I realized something big had changed one morning that fall, about a year afer we moved to Korea. We were staying in a hotel, and I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me. It was soft. And my first honest-to-goodness, panicked thought was, Oh my gosh, has someone else used this towel?!
By then, I’d done laundry for at least six people (seven most of that time, and nine when my parents were visiting) in an apartment without a dryer. And if you’ve ever hung towels to dry, you know that when they are dry, they aren’t soft. They’re scratchy. You remove the top layer of skin using them. And then, apparently, you start to equate “scratchy” with “clean”.
We lived in Busan for two years, then moved to several hours to another part of Korea. And something big happened when we moved: I finally got a dryer.
As someone who frequently suffers from Imposter Syndrome, I don’t really like to write “what I learned” posts. My fingers suddenly freeze above the keyboard as I think, Did I really learn? Can I speak with any authority on this matter? What if ____ happened? Would I stand by my words?
But the truth is, those two years in Busan really changed me. I did learn a lot, and it kind of all comes down to lessons from my dryer — or rather, the lack thereof. Now, I know there are much more difficult things to survive than the absence of a dryer in one’s life. In fact, I actually used drying racks and clotheslines prior to my move to Korea because it saves a lot of money in electricity bills (important especially when you live in Hawaii!), and it’s good for the environment as well as your clothes. And I still regularly use my drying rack frequently.
But there are two important factors that set apart my Busan experience from those previous ones. First, my clotheslines and drying racks were usually outside in the sun (and the occasional, unfortunate downpour). That, come to find out, makes a huge difference. And second, I did have the dryer there as backup to use on bedding and towels and other items that take a long time to dry.
So if you will bear with me, here’s how living in an apartment in Korea, without a dryer, changed me.
1. I learned to think outside the box more.
There is both an art and a science to drying clothes quickly indoors. You have to make sure nothing is folded over on itself. You have to turn clothes over to make sure they dry on both sides. Laundry is your job, and you have to treat it accordingly. Fans help; dehumidifiers help more. When you run out of room on your drying rack, use lampshades, chairs, and the back of the couch.
Similarly, I found myself thinking of new ways to handle a variety of problems. When my property manager told me he wouldn’t replace my oven, I honestly started thinking (with the help of my friends) of ways I might be able to survive without an oven. (Thankfully I didn’t have to!). I missed having a yard to for the kids to play in — so, so much — but we got creative with our indoor space, and had fun at kid cafes or parks. Our playground time with friends was a lifesaver.
2. I learned to notice beauty in surprising places.
It was definitely weird: I started having these moments when I’d hang the laundry and suddenly think, How pretty. Maybe it was the mix of patterns within a color of the load I’d washed — I really can’t say. I wondered if anyone else would see the beauty if I left the rack in the living room when company came... Yeah, probably not.
Other scenes began to strike me as beautiful too, in ways they never had before, like the crowded store fronts I passed on narrow crooked back streets, or fruit and vegetables laid out by vendors near the subway station, or this little tiny garden patch in front of a wall on the drive to my kids’ school. In some of the other places I’ve lived, like Hawaii, it was ridiculously easy to see the beauty around me. But finding beauty in surprising places is finding an entirely new and special treasure.
3. I don’t say “I can’t/ don’t do that.” so much now.
This is probably the hardest part for me to write because I know full well that there many things worse than having no dryer. But still... it’s true. Since I took the apartment without a dryer, it would seem that I knew what I was getting into. (Yes, some apartments in Busan do in fact have them!) I just didn’t realize quite how hard it would be. It wasn’t the first time I’d done it, but I caught vomit in my hands so that it wouldn’t get on the comforter — because how would I ever wash that out in my tiny washing machine, let alone get it dry?! I learned how to get three whole loads washed and dried in a day. That felt like a huge accomplishment worthy of a Facebook post or maybe even skywriting because before Busan, I think I would have said, “No dryer for two years?! For a family of seven?! I can’t do that!”
There are, in fact, so many things I would have chosen not to go through. Earthquakes experienced more than twenty floors up, trying to get medical help when there were no English speakers, and smaller things like parking in tiny spaces deep in a basement garage. (Claustrophobia, anyone?) Learning to back into those minuscule spots in my old minivan that doesn’t have a backup camera, driving through busy intersections with blind corners that have no signal lights. There are also the hilarious moments I’d have missed if I’d said “No” when we first found out we were moving here, like browsing a catalogue of feminine products in the middle of a busy store.
And then there’s this:
4. I’ve thought even more about must-haves and what is enough.
Being born and raised in Bangladesh definitely shaped my view what what true “must-haves” are. But it’s also easy to forget, and I can be just as fast as the next girl to justify luxuries in my life, saying, “I deserve this.” My two years without a dryer brought into sharp relief the fact that what myself and many of my peers consider “standard living items” are so much more than what others have to live with. When I’m asking God for something — even health or safety — I find myself thinking, Who am I to think that should be mine?
I can’t imagine our lives now without the two-year Busan chapter. I’ve thought back several times to the Sunday before we found out we first moving to Korea. We were at church, singing Oceans by Hillsong United, which we’d sung a thousand times at least already. And as I sang the line “Your grace abounds in deepest waters. Your sovereign hand will be my guide,” I was surprised by tears that suddenly filled my eyes and goosebumps crept up my arms. I wondered what in the world was going on.
All that day and the next, I felt apprehensive, like something big was about to happen. I thought maybe there would be an earthquake, or one of the kids was going to get sick or hurt, or something terrible would happen to our family back home. When I fell asleep I was fully expecting to be woken by one of the kids having a fever, or something worse. But after a good night’s sleep, I thought maybe everything was all right after all.
And then Matt called and said, “Korea.”
These were deep waters, but God’s grace has yet again amazed me. I feel stronger than I did before, but I know it’s only and all because of Him.
So when we got our new dryer, did I actually dance like a fool around the house? Um, yes. Did I tear up a little? Well, what can I say? I’m a cryer. Did I wrap my arms around the dryer and give it a hug? You betcha. When I pulled the first load of towels out, all warm and soft and fragrant, did I bury my face in them and say, “Thank You, thank You, God.”? Absolutely.