d. Stepping out of Incheon International Airport, she felt a world away from the familiar dry heat of Otu. Back home, the harmattan s

ing Nollywood drama, the deep rumble of traffic that spoke of a city that never slept, and the sheer, overwhelm

cle, a place where futuristic fantasies seemed to have come to life. Sleek silver surfaces reflected the bright lights and the endless flow of people, and massive digital screens displayed images of technology that felt straight out of a sci-fi film. Even the air had a strange but intrigui

ndent, felt a pang of vulnerability as she tried to decipher the signs, her brow furrowed in concentrat

ntered. But their willingness to help, despite the language barrier, was a welcome reminder that even in this overwhelming city, there was still a sense of human connection. The train ride was a mesmerizing blur of neon-drenched cityscapes flashing past her window. vertical forest that stretched as

he warmth of human connection. Finally, she arrived at Seoul National University. The campus was a welcome respite from the urban frenzy, a

lding that hummed with a quiet but purposeful energy. Students in crisp white coats, their faces a mixture of concentration and determination, hurried between classes, and the air had a faint clinical scent mingled with the subtle aroma of something herbal, perhaps a traditional medi

ut no-nonsense woman with perfect English who managed to cu

said, a polite smile gracing her lips.The woman's face softened into a warm smile. "Ah, welcome, Amar

l and schedule. You're scheduled to join the tour group in five minutes. Let's get you to the meeting point". As they walked, Mrs. Lee, with

And this is Sophia, she's also an international student, from Australia! You'll

gathered, chatting and comparing notes. "Alright, everyone! Let's get started," Mrs. Lee announced, her voice carrying a note of cheerful authority. "Our tour guide today, a senior student named Min-seo, will show you around the department and introduce you to the facult

es that looked like something out of a medical drama, the spacious and well-lit rehabilitation rooms, where she could a

Korean that hinted at groundbreaking discoveries. By the time Amara had navigated the university, checked into her dorm (a small but clean room that, to her relief, overlooked a surprisingly peaceful courtyard), and unpacked her few belongings, sh

ights, sounds, and, most importantly, the smells of Korean street food. The moment Amara stepped inside, she was e

s and fish cakes simmering on the small stove. The spicy, slightly sweet scent filled the small apartment, a comforting promise

h the tiny apartment, they talked for hours. Amara recounted her chaotic but exhilarating day, the sensory overload of Seoul, her awe at the university's cutting-edge facilities, and her slight bewilderment at trying to navigate a city where even ordering a coffee felt like a complex negotiation. Ifunanya, in turn, shared her own experiences, offering practical advice on everything from mastering the subway sy

ust been so content, dropped a bit. She'd almost managed to forget about the intimidating CEO and the daunting task that la

sunny disposition. But you're strong, Amara. You're smart, capable, and you get that Naija fire for body – that resilience, that wit, that unwavering determinati