I get dressed quickly and shout to my mother: “Mom! How is the temperature today?!” She promptly shouts back, “What? Hurry Jeremiah, you'll be late for class!” Even though I can hear the anger in his voice, I smile at the fact that a language barrier doesn't bind us. I put on my ski jacket and run out the door. It's not long before I reach the first floor and rush to the bus stop. A biting wind roars across the country of Korea as I sit clutching my legs. I'm waiting for a bus that will arrive on time. As I scan my surroundings I see nothing but buildings and cars. Apartment buildings and hospitals dominate the sky while buses and taxis roam the ground. I can barely hear myself think with all the resulting honks and squeaks around me. When the bus arrives, I quickly stand up and scan my bus pass. The bus driver bows and I promptly bow back. After finding a seat, I sit down and close my eyes. The sounds of people talking and the roar of cars cease to exist and I find myself isolated in my bubble. Even if the noises don't distract me, my surroundings remain the same. Cars zoom past each other and buildings continue to survey the sky. I study the chaos and pray that the bus driver is aware of his surroundings. After seven stops the bus creaks to a stop at the Olympic Park. I stand up, careful not to lose my balance, and wait for the doors to open. When I get out and start crossing the street, nothing has changed. Vehicles still speed through the streets and apartments survey the sky. I put my hands in my pockets and start running towards the tennis courts. Avoiding the freezing wind and the hundreds of people crowding the streets, I finally manage to get to the park entrance. The park is different from the city. I feel like I have... middle of paper... to criticize and give advice to my partner. After every single mistake, my coaches consult my partner and show her how she should hit the ball. Confused about what to do, I stand on the sidelines watching the breeze and blowing hot air into my hands. My partner is finally ready to start hitting again and I get ready on the baseline. We start a rally and after the 15th ball I don't even hit the net. Seconds after missing, I turn to my coaches for advice or constructive criticism. They look back, nod, and start evaluating my partner's thrusts again. It didn't take me long to realize that they didn't want to train me because of our language barrier. Feeling more detached than ever, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, I splash water on my face and look at myself in the mirror. I say to myself, “It's going to be a long day. You can overcome this.”