“Between Waves and Rush Hour”

 The Sound of Waves vs. The Sound of Traffic

Some people wake up to alarms.
I used to wake up to waves.

Growing up on islands like Hawaii and Fiji, the ocean wasn’t a vacation spot — it was background noise. The steady rhythm of waves crashing against the shore felt like breathing. Slow. Natural. Alive. Even silence wasn’t really silent. There were birds, wind, distant laughter, and someone calling out from across the road. Life felt open.

Now I wake up in Korea to something different.

Traffic.

Cars rushing past. Buses sighing at every stop. The low hum of a city that never fully sleeps. Even late at night, there’s movement outside my window. Delivery bikes. People talking. Engines idling at red lights. The sound is constant — not violent, just busy.

At first, I didn’t notice how much it affected me. I told myself I liked the energy. The productivity. The feeling that something important was always happening. And in many ways, I do. Korea moves with purpose. It pushes you to move too.

But sometimes, after teaching English for long hours, when my brain feels heavy, and I’m too tired to talk to anyone, I catch myself missing the waves. I miss the kind of sound that doesn’t demand anything from you. The ocean never asked me to hurry. Traffic always does.

On the islands, noise felt organic. In the city, noise feels mechanical. On the islands, you could walk outside barefoot and hear your own thoughts. In the city, you walk fast — because everyone else is walking fast.

Yet somehow, both sounds tell a story about who I am.

The waves remind me of where I started — slower, lighter, more carefree.
The traffic reminds me of who I’m becoming — driven, disciplined, constantly adapting.

Sometimes I play ocean sounds on my phone before I sleep. It’s a small rebellion against the concrete outside my window. A quiet reminder that no matter how loud the traffic gets, there’s still a part of me that belongs to the sea.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe life isn’t about choosing waves or traffic.

Maybe it’s about learning how to carry the sound of the ocean inside you — even in the middle of the city.