This undergraduate is here to be brutally honest about the reality of studying in South Korea

“For Hope , unlike everyone else, there was only one choice — study in South Korea. Born in Russia to a Korean family, Hope grew up between cultures. When she returned to South Korea with her mother, there was no familiarity. It’s even felt when applying for an undergraduate degree at a Korean university. Hope pays international tuition fees despite her heritage, and she’s lumped together with international students. Nothing wrong with that. She knows she’s one, and she feels like one anyway. That layered identity — ethnically Korean, nationally Russian, legally international — shaped her university experience, so she decided to create content about it. What began as casual YouTube uplands has grown into something far more meaningful: a digital diary turned survival guide for students dreaming of studying in South Korea. “I remember the first time a student came up to me and said, ‘I watch your channel. Your videos helped me a lot,’” Hope shares. “I was blown away. That’s when it felt real.” At first, it was just friends watching. Then strangers. Then a freshman who recognised her on campus. “If I were exposed to the content I’m creating when I was younger, it would have helped me so much,” she reflects. “So I just thought, why not be that person for someone else?” But Hope’s channel isn’t about aesthetic cafe shots or where to eat as an international student in South Korea. It’s built on honesty. And honesty, especially online, can be risky. The fear of ruining one’s dream to study in South Korea There’s a carefully curated fantasy surrounding student life in South Korea. K-dramas. Late-night convenience store runs. K-pop. K-beauty. Chomping down on Korean barbecue. For many international students, the country represents not just education, but aspiration. Hope understands that deeply, because she had it too. “When I first came to Korea, I enjoyed it for a little bit,” she says. “But then, the first impression wears off. And you’re left with reality.” Her first years were far from easy. She found herself constantly flying back and forth between Russia and South Korea, unsure if she could handle staying. It was too hard for her at the time, and she didn’t really enjoy her first couple of years there. Even during her first year of university, Hope struggled to make friends. She recalls a friend from Russia who spent years preparing to study in South Korea. However, on the first day of the semester, the friend broke down crying. Not long after, she returned to Russia for good. “My friend dedicated so much time learning Korean and planning everything,” Hope explains. “She’d never been here before. And from day one, she hated it. The dorms. The staff. Everything. She wasted years trying to come to Korea, and in the end, she didn’t like it. It’s such a common story. But no one talks about it.” That silence is what motivated her to speak up. Because for many students, the fear isn’t just academic failure, but admitting the dream doesn’t exactly match reality. “Everyone thinks, ‘I’ll just come to Korea, and everything will be fine’, but I’ve heard so many — too many — stories of students giving up scholarships and going back home,” she says. “It’s challenging. And I think people deserve to know that.” I agree with Hope. I, too, almost packed up and left South Korea during the first six months of studying there. In fact, I bought a ticket back home just three months into my programme because it was so hard. For Hope, even posting critical content felt risky at first. She remembers a “sticky situation” with her dormitory during freshman year. She understood that she would be guaranteed housing for two semesters. Instead, vague policy wording allowed the dorm to remove students if space ran out. “One day, they just said, ‘You don’t have a room anymore, ’” Hope explains. “I had to figure it out on my own, and I was so angry.” Hope decided to film a video about her experience, but it made her hesitate. Was she being too real? Will she ruin her time at her university for filming this video? But it has happened to so many students, especially international students, so why wouldn’t she talk about it? So, she did . And comments thank her for the “life-saving” video. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Hope (@hope_seventeen) The honest truth and “deserving the full picture” If there’s one myth Hope wants to dismantle, it’s the idea that you can study in South Korea without learning Korean. “It’s 2026, and there are people saying you don’t need Korean to live here,” she says. “It’s false. People hate hearing this. They just want an easy way out. But knowing Korean is essential. Even if your major is in English, your life isn’t.” Beyond language, she talks openly about loneliness , something that’s rarely captured in glossy study-abroad vlogs. “People have friends, yes, but building friendships takes time,” she explains. “And everyone is kind of looking for other friends, too. You don’t want to feel like you’re someone’s only option.” Add heavy course loads and part-time jobs into the mix, and social circles can dissolve between semesters. “If you don’t share classes the following term, you might barely see each other,” she says. “A lot of students feel really lonely, and again, they just don’t talk about it.” Then there’s the work reality. People are very optimistic about finding jobs in Korea, but it’s challenging on a student visa. And after graduation, there’s no guarantee. A company has to sponsor you. It’s a sobering message, even for Hope — but one she believes students need to hear. Hope is also candid about education in South Korea itself. “You don’t really pay for education,” she says. “You pay for status and connections. For the name on your diploma.” That might sound cynical, but she continues, “It’s the truth for most universities. The quality? It’s great or maybe even mediocre sometimes. But the recognition, that’s something people care about.” And yet, despite everything, she doesn’t regret her choice. Hope understands that her decisions are somewhat contradictory, but at the same time, being a student in South Korea can open so many doors. Before enrolling, she felt shut out of certain spaces. Once she became a student, it was like a new door had opened — she met new people, gained access to things, and even raised her social level. Her content now reflects that duality: struggle and opportunity, frustration and growth. What keeps her going are the messages. “When students say they need my honesty — that it helped them prepare — that makes me feel like I should keep doing this,” Hope says. “I don’t like sharing negativity online. Maybe it’s cultural, but when people are risking so much to come here, they deserve the full picture.” If her younger self were watching? “She’d probably say, ‘Upload more often,’” Hope laughs. “But I think she’d be proud.” Because somewhere out there is another student, doom-scrolling the internet with a dream to study in South Korea. They need the truth, and Hope is brave enough to give it.

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