Student Stories · Open Water
An Open Water Course in English in Korea: Meg’s Honest Story
A schoolteacher living in Korea wanted to learn to dive without a language barrier. This is her story of the course — nerves, drysuit wobbles and all.
the teacher who searched in english
She Searched padi.com for an
Open Water Course in English
Meg teaches elementary school in Korea. Like a lot of expats, she had wanted to try scuba diving for years — she grew up far from the sea, and the chance simply never came. When it finally did, she ran the search almost every foreign resident runs when they decide to start diving here: she went to padi.com and filtered for dive shops that teach in English. That filter led her to our centre in Songpa, Seoul.
After her ocean dives we sat down for one of our honest interviews — the kind where the student keeps the microphone and we print the answer even when it stings a little. What follows is her account of the PADI Open Water course: what she feared, what surprised her, and the one piece of feedback we took straight back into how we teach.
why we hand students the microphone
A Student’s Word,
Not a Brochure’s
Any dive centre can say its teaching is calm and careful. We would rather let a first-time student say it — or not say it — in her own words. Diving is our culture, and our motto has held for a generation: learn it slow, keep it forever. These interviews exist because that promise should be checkable. Not for everyone, only for you — the reader wondering whether a course in a foreign country can actually feel safe.
Training at our own centre runs small — 1:1 to 1:3, never more than three students — with staff instructors who each carry ten-plus years of teaching. And the language barrier ends at the door: our dive professionals communicate in English, as well as Korean and Japanese, from the first theory session to the last debrief.
the fears in her dive bag
The Fears She Packed
for the Pool

Meg’s worries were the classic pair. First, the theory itself spooked her: “Studying the e-learning, I realised how many risk factors I hadn’t known about. I was anxious I’d make a mistake.” Second, the language barrier — would anything be lost between instructor and student when it mattered? On that one she was blunt: “Communication went far better than I expected.” The questions she brought — about language, about swimming ability — are the same ones our FAQ answers every week.
What dissolved the anxiety was not a pep talk but pace. “The instructor’s calm, reassuring manner was what I liked most. I got comfortable with diving step by step.” She laughs at her own habit of turning every new challenge into a competition: “Maybe it sounds funny, but learning that diving is meant to be enjoyed — that helped. I rush things. Being reminded to take my time and breathe before moving to the next step was genuinely valuable. Calm, steady breathing became a habit.”
the day the suit fought back
The Drysuit Day
That Humbled Her

She is just as honest about the hard day. In the pool she “almost panicked a few times” before experience washed the feeling away. Then came Korean water and a drysuit: add a little air and up you float, faster than you expect. “I lost my bearings and struggled to vent the extra air. It was less scary than confusing — I was disappointed in myself.” Her own verdict: more experience, and the confidence will come. That is exactly how it works.
This is also why we put students in proper cold-water equipment from the start — training gear is available to rent, drysuit included, with premium thermal layers from Fourth Element on the shelf downstairs. A drysuit on day one is harder than a swimsuit in a warm pool. It is also the honest version of the sea you will actually dive in, and mastering it is the usual first stop when new divers level up after certification.
first breath in the sea
The Horizon Below
the Horizon

Ask her for the moment that stuck and she skips the skills entirely. “The first time I stepped into the sea. You look at the horizon, and then — like a switch — the ocean wraps you in another infinite space. A horizon below the horizon.” Then, because this is an honest interview, she adds the unpoetic part: she fumbled her gear so much at first that the instructor “had to help me like a small child”, and with practice the helping hands were needed less and less. Both halves are true of everyone’s first dives in the Korean sea; only the poetry gets remembered.
Along the way she even met her first local — a flounder, flat against the sand, entirely unimpressed by the new diver above it. “It feels like a new chapter has begun,” she says of the whole thing. “I’d wanted to try for so long, and I’ve finally started.”
the feedback we kept
What She Would Change —
and What We Did

We asked what could be better, and printed the answer. Because her travelling buddy was on a tight schedule, the pace felt quicker than she wanted: “Looking back, I wish I’d practised some skills a little more. It would be good to ask students whether they feel ready before moving past a skill.” Fair — and useful. Checking in before moving on is now part of how we brief every course, and any student who wants more repetitions gets them. Would she recommend us? “Yes — communication was no problem for me at all.”
That flexibility is built into how the course is billed, too: an instructor’s day, divided by the one to three students sharing it, laid out plainly on the pricing page. Stop partway and you pay only for what you completed, with the rest refunded — so taking the time you need never feels like a penalty.
Write Your Own First Chapter
Tell us where you are — never dived, half-certified, or just nervous — and we’ll map your Open Water course honestly, in English. A consultation is free, needs no registration, and comes with no pressure to sign up.
good to know

