Where has Hanbiya, the "Daughter of the Wind," been all this time? [Hanbiya's Travels in China] will answer your questions.
He said that he studied Chinese in Beijing for a full year starting in March 2000.
[China Travelogue], which contains that story, is cheerful from the cover to the lively writing style.

The reason Hanbiya stayed in Beijing was because 'I thought I would need a lot of Chinese for the emergency relief work that will begin in the future.'
She decided to become a relief worker in Afghanistan and immediately put it into action.
Thanks to that, she was so busy going back and forth between school and academy that she was called the 'daughter of the chair' rather than the 'daughter of the wind'.

In the book, China's spring, summer, fall, and winter unfold in order.
Thanks to the diary I kept regularly, the story is vivid.
You can see China as it really is through the stories of Hanbiya's experiences while learning Chinese, his feelings towards the people of Beijing, and the friends he made thanks to his characteristic friendliness.

The story of how China is a hellish place for college entrance exams, no less than ours, and the character of the Chinese people that was realized through the unexpected 'People's Tribunal' is truly a 'China Travelogue'.
A short field trip to Cambodia and Kenya, where Hanbiya will be active in the future, as well as a trip to Harbin and Hangzhou are also included as a bonus.

Let's think about it carefully.
What kind of person am I? Am I savoring the apples and pears that are in season right now? Or am I pining for strawberries that are still in season or dried persimmons that haven't even ripened yet? All we have is today.
Let's be grateful for what we have now.
And let's enjoy it to the fullest.
One important rule of life that has been put into perspective thanks to the complaining guide Wang Ling.
'If there is no today, there is no tomorrow.'

--- pp.237-238

But the defining event that led me to refugee relief work occurred in a self-made refugee camp in Afghanistan, which has been in a civil war for over 20 years.
I had a great time playing there with the curious children, gesturing and moving my feet.
When I show the boys taekwondo demonstration and draw flower rings on the girls with a three-color ballpoint pen, their faces immediately brighten.
But the adults' stares at me were unbearably harsh.
He was afraid of being questioned by the rebels for talking to foreigners.

As I was turning around, silently praying to the children to survive until the war ended, someone shyly smiled and handed me some bread.
The girl was walking on crutches, her left leg missing, possibly because she had stepped on a landmine, and her right leg below her elbow was amputated.
He wants to give the precious food, which he doesn't know how long it has been since he last had it and when he might have it again, to his 'friend' who played with him.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do.
Is it good for this child to eat this bread and be full, or is it good for me to eat it and let them know that I am their friend?
After a moment of hesitation, I took the bread and took a bite.
Then the children who were there clapped their hands and screamed with joy, not knowing what to do.
At that moment, something hot like magma welled up from the bottom of my chest.

That day I made up my mind.
After my trip, I will work for a refugee organization.
He said he would use me sparingly, especially for the children.
Looking back, I think that majoring in international public relations and traveling the world for seven years were all part of the process of deciding to pursue this career, a fateful process I had to go through to become good at it.
But the defining event that led me to refugee relief work occurred in a self-made refugee camp in Afghanistan, which has been in a civil war for over 20 years.
I had a great time playing there with the curious children, gesturing and moving my feet.
When I show the boys taekwondo demonstration and draw flower rings on the girls with a three-color ballpoint pen, their faces immediately brighten.
But the adults' stares at me were unbearably harsh.
He was afraid of being questioned by the rebels for talking to foreigners.

As I was turning around, silently praying to the children to survive until the war ended, someone shyly smiled and handed me some bread.
The girl was walking on crutches, her left leg missing, possibly because she had stepped on a landmine, and her right leg below her elbow was amputated.
He wants to give the precious food, which he doesn't know how long it has been since he last had it and when he might have it again, to his 'friend' who played with him.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do.
Is it good for this child to eat this bread and be full, or is it good for me to eat it and let them know that I am their friend?
After a moment of hesitation, I took the bread and took a bite.
Then the children who were there clapped their hands and screamed with joy, not knowing what to do.
At that moment, something hot like magma welled up from the bottom of my chest.

That day I made up my mind.
After my trip, I will work for a refugee organization.
He said he would use me sparingly, especially for the children.
Looking back, I think that majoring in international public relations and traveling the world for seven years were all part of the process of deciding to pursue this career, a fateful process I had to go through to become good at it.

--- p.
156

Whenever I travel to another country during the cold winter, there is a taste of Korean winter that comes to mind.
Properly ripened kimchi, garak noodles at a small train station, warm steamed buns, steaming fish-shaped soup, savory bungeoppang, and roasted chestnuts and sweet potatoes.
In particular, sweet potatoes are synonymous with winter flavor, with their warm warmth and savory aroma, as they are taken out of a military drum can and placed in a paper bag.
You can taste those sweet potatoes here in Beijing too.
I'm talking about the sweet potatoes made by cutting the 'Doramutong' that I used to see as a child and roasting them over firewood.
The smell of roasting sweet potatoes wafts around every corner, from in front of the academy, to in front of the bus stop, to the market alley.
A large one costs about 2 yuan, and the bright yellow flesh melts in your mouth.
There is also a sweet potato vendor in front of our accommodation.
She is a pretty little girl with clear eyes and neat teeth when she smiles.
He said he was 13 years old, but he was short and had messy hair, so at first glance I thought he was a boy.
We became friends while buying sweet potatoes on the way home from class all winter long.
"What's your name?"
"This is Lee Hong-hwa (this is Lee Hong-hwa)."
"Where do you live?"
"This is Anhui Province."
"Mom, Dad?"
"You are at home.
I live with my uncle in my hometown."
"Do you make a lot of money?"
"So-so.
"About 20 yuan (3,000 won) per day."
"Only 20 yuan?"
"Sometimes I can't even make that much.
The hotel security guards here just take it for free."
"What? Who said that?"
"It's better to take it.
If those people kick me out, I won't be able to do business."
No, are you saying that the hotel security guards who always open doors and greet me when they see me are eating the liver of a flea?
They are truly bad people who steal sweet potatoes from a child who is selling sweet potatoes in a cart bigger than his body.
At first glance, Hong-hwa's hand is bleeding from a torn wound on the back.
The ball is about to burst.
That day, I bought three large sweet potatoes.
I'm sure I won't be able to eat it all.

Honghwa is not a business that sells on the main road.
If you wash your eyes and look hard, you will find sweet potatoes for sale in a corner.
If you hide in a place like this, Nana will smell sweet potatoes and find you.
When I asked who would buy it, they said they were afraid of being caught by the police and having their sweet potato containers taken away, so they couldn't go out on the main road.
"Did you go to school?"
"Until the third grade of elementary school."
"What about your younger sibling?"
"There are two.
Money for my younger siblings' education.
I will definitely send it to you."
"By selling sweet potatoes?"
"When summer comes, I'll sell vegetables and fruits.
"There's more left."
I bought three sweet potatoes that day too.
Whenever I travel to another country during the cold winter, there is a taste of Korean winter that comes to mind.
Properly ripened kimchi, garak noodles at a small train station, warm steamed buns, steaming fish-shaped soup, savory bungeoppang, and roasted chestnuts and sweet potatoes.
In particular, sweet potatoes are synonymous with winter flavor, with their warm warmth and savory aroma, as they are taken out of a military drum can and placed in a paper bag.
You can taste those sweet potatoes here in Beijing too.
I'm talking about the sweet potatoes made by cutting the 'Doramutong' that I used to see as a child and roasting them over firewood.
The smell of roasting sweet potatoes wafts around every corner, from in front of the academy, to in front of the bus stop, to the market alley.
A large one costs about 2 yuan, and the bright yellow flesh melts in your mouth.
There is also a sweet potato vendor in front of our accommodation.
She is a pretty little girl with clear eyes and neat teeth when she smiles.
He said he was 13 years old, but he was short and had messy hair, so at first glance I thought he was a boy.
We became friends while buying sweet potatoes on the way home from class all winter long.
"What's your name?"
"This is Lee Hong-hwa (this is Lee Hong-hwa)."
"Where do you live?"
"This is Anhui Province."
"Mom, Dad?"
"You are at home.
I live with my uncle in my hometown."
"Do you make a lot of money?"
"So-so.
"About 20 yuan (3,000 won) per day."
"Only 20 yuan?"
"Sometimes I can't even make that much.
The hotel security guards here just take it for free."
"What? Who said that?"
"It's better to take it.
If those people kick me out, I won't be able to do business."
No, are you saying that the hotel security guards who always open doors and greet me when they see me are eating the liver of a flea?
They are truly bad people who steal sweet potatoes from a child who is selling sweet potatoes in a cart bigger than his body.
At first glance, Hong-hwa's hand is bleeding from a torn wound on the back.
The ball is about to burst.
That day, I bought three large sweet potatoes.
I'm sure I won't be able to eat it all.

Honghwa is not a business that sells on the main road.
If you wash your eyes and look hard, you will find sweet potatoes for sale in a corner.
If you hide in a place like this, Nana will smell sweet potatoes and find you.
When I asked who would buy it, they said they were afraid of being caught by the police and having their sweet potato containers taken away, so they couldn't go out on the main road.
"Did you go to school?"
"Until the third grade of elementary school."
"What about your younger sibling?"
"There are two.
Money for my younger siblings' education.
I will definitely send it to you."
"By selling sweet potatoes?"
"When summer comes, I'll sell vegetables and fruits.
"There's more left."
I bought three sweet potatoes that day too.

--- pp.260-262