Returning to Korea: A Personal and Evolving Journey Through Heritage Travel

By Sarah Kurtzahn, Korean Ties Program Manager, The Ties Program

In my nearly 13 years with The Ties Program, each summer revolves around our busiest travel season. The rhythm of the year builds toward these weeks when adoptees and their families return to the countries where their stories began. This summer, Korea greeted us with intense heat—temperatures reached over 100°F in Seoul, making it the hottest Korean Ties trip I can recall. As I pushed a stroller through crowded sidewalks and past food stalls, I felt a familiar sense of gratitude to be back in a place that holds so much meaning, both personally and professionally.

Members of the summer tour play around in a photo booth in Seoul, Korea.

When I first started leading programs, I was a fresh-faced twenty-something, eager to prove I was capable and responsible. I still remember carefully laying out a wardrobe I thought screamed, “Adult in charge” and I still cringe at some of those photos from my first Russian Ties summer. These days, I don’t worry about looking too young. Now I’m more likely to wonder if people are silently judging my rapidly greying hair. Over the years, I’ve grown more confident, not only in my professional role but in the way I show up for others on these journeys. I’ve also grown in my personal life—from being the partner of a Korean adoptee to becoming a spouse and now a parent to three children.

Ben with two members of the summer tour, smiling and laughing together on their way from Busan to Seoul.

This summer, my husband Matt and I staffed our third Korea Ties trip together, and for the first time, we brought our youngest child, Benjamin. Born in January, Ben was too young to stay home or go off to grandma’s house like our older two children. Having a baby on the trip changed how I supported the group day to day, but it also added so much joy. Ben’s big smile brought light to every space we entered, whether it was a hotel lobby, a bus ride, or a cultural site.

A Personal Evolution with Korea

My own connection to Korea began in 2012 when I moved there to teach English. It was the coldest winter on record, and I was looking for a fresh start. At a picnic table surrounded by fellow teachers, I met Matt. He offered me his gloves, which I vehemently declined, but I remember feeling instantly drawn to him, especially after learning he had grown up just a mile away from me in Minnesota.

Matt and Sarah in Busan during the early days of their relationship.

At the time, Matt was returning to Korea for the first time since his adoption at 15 months. While we fell in love, we were also navigating questions about identity, belonging, and connection to Korean culture. Those questions became part of our shared story and eventually part of our family story.

After we returned to the U.S., I began working with The Ties Program. The more I engaged with adoptees and their families, the more I learned how to support Matt on his own journey. Since then, we’ve returned to Korea together for both work and family visits—including one very memorable trip when Matt proposed at the same spot where we first met. This summer felt like a continuation of that full-circle experience, now with Ben along for the ride.

Witnessing Change in Korea’s Post-Adoption Landscape

This summer, we also witnessed a shifting landscape in Korea’s post-adoption world. As the role of traditional adoption agencies evolves, Korean government offices and newer NGOs are beginning to take on more responsibility for things like birth family and foster family connections.

Members of the Korea Ties tour pose in front of Bulguksa Temple in Gyeongju, SouthKorea.

There’s a lot still unfolding. Some processes are less clear than they once were. But amid the uncertainty, I’m grateful that Ties continues to have long-standing relationships, cultural context, and on-the-ground partnerships to help support adoptees and their families through these changes. It’s not always straightforward—but no one has to navigate it alone.

Why This Work Matters

A local family poses on a pathway overlooking the ocean on Jeju Island, Korea.

Supporting adoptees and their families on heritage journeys is more than a job—it’s a calling. As the spouse of a Korean adoptee and the parent of a multiracial, adoptive family, I’ve seen firsthand how adoption can shape lives in nuanced, deeply personal ways. I’ve also seen how healing and affirming it can be to stand in the places where your story began—with the right support around you.

This year, bringing Benjamin along reminded me of just how layered identity, parenting, and adoption can be. It’s made me even more passionate about creating inclusive, accessible options for families with young children who want to explore their heritage together. In fact, I’m now working on a new itinerary designed specifically for adoptees traveling with little ones—something I wish had existed when we were just starting out.

I believe deeply in the power of community, of shared experience, and of holding space for complexity. That’s what Ties does. We don’t offer neat conclusions or one-size-fits-all solutions—but we offer care, respect, and presence. We walk alongside you, wherever your journey takes you.

As Korea’s adoption landscape continues to shift, I remain hopeful. Hopeful that adoptees will be met with support. Hopeful that we, as a global community, will continue learning from one another. And hopeful that the next generation—like my own children—will grow up knowing that their stories matter.