My final month in East Asia has naturally made me more attentive to the ordinary places I might otherwise have passed without much thought. After more than a decade of living, studying, and building a family across Korea and Hong Kong, even a short walk through my parents-in-law's neighborhood in Korea can feel like part of a much larger farewell. One place in particular has stayed with me: a new public library that recently opened near their home.
I expected a familiar collection of shelves and study tables. What I found was a modern, carefully designed space that seemed to understand how people actually learn and work today. The building was bright and open without feeling noisy. It offered comfortable areas for individual study, dedicated workstations with computers, and free Wi-Fi reaching roughly 600 MB/s. That speed was not merely convenient; it made the library genuinely capable of supporting data-intensive academic and professional work. These details make the library more than a place for storing books. They make it practical infrastructure for thought.
A public space for serious work
Academic work often depends on access to resources that are easy to take for granted: a quiet desk, a stable connection, a computer, and enough uninterrupted time to follow an idea. Not everyone has those things at home; with two young children, I can confirm that uninterrupted time is sometimes the rarest resource of all. A well-designed library gives students, job seekers, researchers, and anyone with a project the dignity of a space in which to concentrate.
I was especially impressed by how naturally the library combined traditional and contemporary forms of learning. Books remained central, but the space did not treat computers or connectivity as threats to reading. Digital tools were simply another part of the environment. The result felt neither nostalgic nor overly futuristic. It felt useful, generous, and grounded in the real needs of its community.
The most hopeful sight
What affected me most, however, was seeing so many children reading. Some sat with parents, some explored the shelves on their own, and others were completely absorbed in a book. At a time when conversations about artificial intelligence often slide quickly into predictions about the end of traditional education, the scene offered a quieter and more convincing counterargument.
AI will undoubtedly change how we search for information, write, analyze, and solve problems. It already has. But education is not only the efficient production of an answer. Reading teaches patience. It asks us to sustain attention, encounter perspectives on their own terms, and remain with uncertainty long enough for understanding to deepen. Those habits are not made obsolete by powerful technology. If anything, they become more important.
The presence of those children gave me hope that reading, in its more traditional sense, is not disappearing. The challenge is not to choose between books and AI. It is to help people develop the judgment to use new tools without losing the capacities that make learning meaningful: curiosity, reflection, imagination, and care.
Leaving with gratitude
Korea has shaped my adult life in ways I could never have anticipated when I first arrived. It is where I pursued graduate study, completed my PhD, met my wife, and started a family. As I prepare for the next chapter at Nova School of Business and Economics, I am leaving with immense gratitude for the people, institutions, and everyday experiences that helped me grow.
This new library is now part of that memory. It represents something I have long admired about Korea: the belief that education deserves serious public investment and that shared spaces can quietly expand individual possibility. Seeing it full of readers, especially young readers, made my final month here feel less like an ending. It felt like a reminder that the work of learning continues, across places, generations, and technologies. I already look forward to returning, opening my laptop, and borrowing it as a home-from-home for a few productive hours—especially if the Wi-Fi is still running at 600 MB/s.