Author: Samantha Latimer

Whew, it’s been a while. Here are some updates for ya:

First of all, I’ve decided to stay another semester at my school in Ubon Ratchathani, a decision I somewhat surprised myself with making. I had an extremely tough transition here, culture shock hit me like a boulder, and things were changing too fast in my life for me to adjust, which caused me to blame my unhappiness on where I was and what I was doing. After those feelings subsided and I began to feel more comfortable here, I started to really form connections with the kids and embraced the new, everyday experiences instead of resisting them. A few weeks ago I was watching my kids eat lunch at school and as I observed 5 year olds attempt to put noodles on a spoon and get that spoon to their mouth without the noodles falling off (it takes about 10 minutes per spoonful, if you’re wondering), I realized that I couldn’t leave these kids in a few months time. Just like that, I did a complete 180 and decided to stay and you know when you make a decision and immediately feel in your gut whether it was right or wrong? Well it felt really right.

Also in Mickey Tennis life news: my lifelong battle with clumsiness finally caught up with me about two months ago as we were celebrating New Years in Chiang Mai when I stepped off a curb while walking back to our hostel, rolled my ankle and subsequently broke my foot, putting me on crutches for 4-6 weeks. That’s right, by stepping off a curb. Yikes. Everyone asked me if it was a motorbike accident and I started just saying yes because that seemed like a more exciting story. I even tried telling my kids that I got stepped on by an elephant but sadly they didn’t believe me.

As if being a westerner didn’t already garner constant stares on the streets of non-touristy Thailand, I was now a westerner on crutches so my zoo animal status had officially peaked.

The worst part of all this was not the fact that I would surely miss the half marathon I had been excited for, nor the fact that I now had to scoot up and down the stairs of our apartment on my butt, but the reality of becoming slightly dependent on other people. I am fiercely independent and will not admit I need someone’s help unless absolutely necessary, you know, like if I can’t open a jar of pickles or something (a true emergency). In Thailand you cannot drink from the tap, so I had to nag my roommates to go refill the water jugs and get me groceries if they went to the store, to hold my crutches, to do my laundry, to please pass me that thing over there that I can’t reach without ungracefully hobbling over to it. One weekend both my roommates went out of town and they had to stock the house with water and food like we were preparing for the apocalypse.

Through this whole ordeal I’ve learned why I’m independent and it’s for a very simple reason: Because depending on other people really blows.

I think this idea can be expanded into every area of life: travel, for example. Since I’ve decided to stay teaching in Thailand it means I have two whole months between March and May in which to travel around Southeast Asia and I’m extremely excited about it. As of right now the plans are Laos for 1 week, back to Thailand for 2 weeks to travel with my sister and dad (!), then to Myanmar for 2 weeks and lastly, Cambodia for 2 weeks. I had made travels plans by myself, expecting to be alone but my roommate has decided to join me which makes me feel much more comfortable, but I still feel extremely passionate about independent travel and strongly believe in the benefits of traveling on one’s own.

I think there’s a stigma or rather, a fear, of traveling alone, especially at my age.

There’s the idea that traveling is first and foremost about partying, meeting new people, and getting away from the restrictions and responsibilities of “home”. There also exists the idea that traveling can only be enjoyable with other people when there is safety in numbers, comfort, and people to fill those otherwise lonely minutes lying on a hostel bed in a foreign country. These are all valid reasons because, hey, we’re all human.

But traveling with people is, at least in my opinion, sometimes more restricting.

Traveling solo has so many perks that I think people fail to realize. First and foremost, you can do anything YOU want to do and for however long you want to do it. What you do in a day is 100% up to you and no one else. That’s liberating and refreshing, isn’t it? For example, I’m a fast walker but I go through art museums at a glacial pace. For most people I’ve traveled with, that’s not the case.

You also are more open to meeting new people along the way. I’ve traveled alone before, stayed in 20 bed hostel dorm rooms by myself and it’s incredibly hard as a primarily introverted person to approach someone and try to make a friend out of thin air.

Traveling alone also forces you to be more confident and fearless. When traveling with other people, there’s the nice comfort in the safety in numbers idea, which may breed carelessness. When alone you don’t have a choice but to make decisions on your own with your own best judgment. This in itself breeds confidence in travel as well as other areas of your life.

Over the past few months I’ve further understood quite a few things about myself, including my willingness to travel alone. One thing I’ve struggled for quite a few years is my apprehension to make deep connections with people. I love being close to people but I feel this weird inward urge that causes me to resist it. It’s actually quite complicated and I’m only beginning to understand it. I’m not shy or antisocial but I think I’m learning that I’m just idealistic. I want the best life possible for myself. But who doesn’t?

But the problem is that I mistake the best life possible for being automatically different than the life I’m living. I’m here but I want to be there, I’m sitting having coffee with this person but it could be someone more interesting, I’m happy with my hairstyle but eh, it would look better some other way. It goes on and on until being content seems a loftier and loftier goal.

I think herein lies two different views that I find myself constantly conflicted over: On one hand is the view that we come into this world alone and we leave it alone and therefore we need no one but ourselves to live the life we want. I believe this is largely true and I have full confidence in every individual’s ability to do whatever they want given they are determined to do so. I think that’s a very freeing thought.

But every since I read “Into the Wild” a few years back, I’ve started to alter my views a bit.

Happiness is only real when shared.

Now I don’t think this is true by any means, but I do think it introduces an important counter view. I think as humans we’re often scared of being alone, especially if we think long term like marriage and kids. I think sometimes these are things people do because they’re frightful of being alone, being lonely. But then we also risk unhappiness if we find we don’t enjoy marriage or we regret having kids.

Is there, then, a happy medium? A life lived by our own terms, independently, but one which we can share with others at the same time. I think it’s a hard line to tread and one I’ve been resisting for a while but that what travel does to you. It changes you and alters the way you think about the world as well as your own personal life.

Well, I’m off for two months of traveling through Southeast Asia before I head back to reunite with my kiddies in May for another semester of boogers and failed noodle-eating.

A few weeks ago we were blessed with three days off and a nice five-day weekend in which to celebrate New Years so we decided to jet to Chiang Mai for the holiday. The main city in the north of Thailand, Chiang Mai is a traveler’s paradise complete with jungle excursions, mountain adventures, elephant rides, tiger hugging, and an international atmosphere.. It also comes with all the comforts of home if that’s what you want when you’re traveling. When you’ve been living in Thailand for over three months though, I think it’s justified to crave western food and the comfort of English speakers. So I happily ate my weight in pancakes, pizza, yogurt, and endless amounts of juices and walked the streets in the silent comfort of not being stared at all the time. Travelers usually stick to the center of town so we rented motorbikes and explored the outskirts of Chiang Mai finding hidden temples and chasing the elusive mountains and never quite reaching them. We did accidentally enter an army base, though, but that’s a story for another time.

As a traveler’s paradise, Chiang Mai is full of people from all over the world, mostly backpackers, and after spending three months in “real Thailand” where there are virtually no westerners I couldn’t help but hate myself for being a “tourist” there.

There was one experience in particular that prompted some thinking on my part. We took a songthaew (like a mini, open-air bus) up a steep, winding road halfway up the mountain to a temple called Wat Prathet Doi Suthep, which overlooks the city. Now I’ve been in insanely touristy places before: Times Square, the Louvre, Big Ben and they’re all crowded and packed with people but this temple was another story.

Swarms of people were walking up hundreds of stairs to get to the temple holding their cameras protectively around their necks, careful not to bump them against bodies and small Thai women in hill tribe dress sold colorful jewelry at every turn. When we got to the top, the temple was beautiful of course, but it was easy to distract from once you noticed the piles and piles of shoes scattered around. It’s customary to remove your shoes before entering a temple and for this reason they have shoe lockers for rental in case you don’t want to risk them being stolen or ruined by the crowds. I’ve always had an unnaturally large trust in people and I really didn’t care about losing my $10 Target flats anyway so I decided to add them to the pile, wondering if I would see them again.

I walked around the temple trying to focus on the immaculate beauty of the buildings around me and the ornate, intricate detail of it all, the unapologetically excessive use of golden color, the careful etching, the way the late afternoon sun landed on the top of the temple. Magic hour.

…Well it worked for a bit before I would accidentally bump into someone ahead of me, or duck to avoid being in someone’s Facebook album entitled “Southeast Asia 2014”, or narrowly miss being stepped on by some small child being touted along by their parents.

I found a place in a corner and just observed the temple. Well, I tried to observe it but found myself observing the people around me more. I was particularly dumbfounded by these three women who, armed with a selfie stick, were taking hundreds of pictures of themselves with the temple behind them yet never once turning around to actually look at the temple. I watched as they took turns taking photos of the other two. I was intrigued by their poses much like a visitor at the zoo is intrigued by monkeys picking shit off each other. It must have been 15 minutes before they stopped taking pictures and left. Never once looking at the temple itself. And I realized that in all the interest I had taken to watching the strange self stick commercial happening before me, I hadn’t either. So I sat for a while and did just that.

On our way down the mountain I listened with my eyes closed (I get car sick) to an Australian guy about my age talk to his friend about how he hates touristy places like that temple. At first I felt annoyed; yeah you hate touristy places, but you’re a tourist yourself and you chose to come here so aren’t you just perpetuating the reasons why you hate touristy places?

But then I thought about it and realized that I understood because I feel the exact same way. We travel to places and we feel like we’ve completely wasted the trip if we don’t visit the most famous attractions, the ones Lonely Planet are telling us we need to go. But the truth is, places are famous for a reason. They must be beautiful, important, historical, challenging, enlightening places otherwise people wouldn’t flock to them…right?

But then there are those off-the-beaten-path places that you discover one day and wonder why they aren’t world-renowned and one of the “1000 Places You Must See Before You Die”. You probably love it simply because it’s quiet and it’s seemingly untouched by so many visitor’s footsteps and camera flashes.

But we’re still tourists even if we visit “non-touristy” places. By definition tourist means “a person who travels to a place for pleasure”. Well, aren’t we all searching for pleasure in everything we do? When we eat, when we sleep, have sex, travel, we’re all attempting to get some sort of pleasure out of it. But unfortunately the word tourist itself has a terrible connotation and conjures up images of fat white men in Hawaiian shirts, pasty sunscreen on their noses, “I heart NY” t-shirts and disposable cameras.

Similarly the word traveler by definition means “a person who is traveling or who often travels”. So, we can deduce that a tourist is also a traveler because they’re traveling, but is a traveler not a tourist much like a rectangle not a square?

I’ve always been interested in if not confused by this tourist/traveler debacle. We all have a right to travel to places and see things we’ve always wanted to see and whether you stay in an expensive five star beach resort or a $3/night hostel, you’re not necessarily doing something right or wrong and whether someone is labeled as a tourist or a traveler is highly arbitrary.

I, for one, prefer the term traveler because it’s a catchall. When you travel you’re a traveler, it should be that simple.

But I do think that there are different types of travelers. We’re all different, so of course we’re all going to travel in different ways. Some may prefer the quick, clean, convenient act of flying while others prefer the scenic, long and thoughtful journeys brought on by train travel. Some may seek the comforts of home while away, whereas others thrive on adapting to a new places’ culture. Some may pack five bags for a weekend trip, while others need a single backpack for a three-month one. But all these different travelers have the same right to see things as the next one. I will argue that there are more ethical ways of traveling than others, ways in which we can work to benefit the local community in which we stay, boosting their economy rather than that of larger and potentially exploitive corporations. We can do activities that help to celebrate and protect the natural environment rather than those that degrade it and destroy it.

And it’s really too bad that these amazing places are seemingly “ruined” by so many people, so many cameras, so many people wanting you to buy this bracelet and that scarf. But more people are traveling now than ever before; that’s just the globalizing world we’re living in and I think we’re just going to have to adapt to that. With any hope we can preserve these places so people can enjoy them for many more years to come.

And when the crowds get too big and the noise deafening I’ve found my own personal strategy: find a place away from the crowd, sit alone and reflect. Take a few pictures but take even more mental ones. Then I just look. Look and take it all in and try to find the reason why this place is so famous. In my experience, I’ve always found it, despite all the madness.

So I haven’t written a lot lately. I’ll blame it on lack on inspiration.

But I’m in Thailand, constantly experiencing new things, “living the life”, I could write about anything, right? The truth is, traveling doesn’t change who we are and how we react to things. That is built in to us. You could travel all over the world, meet people from all walks of life and do things you never thought you could ever do and at the end of the day you will still be the same person you were before. So when something happens we react how we always would and that is independent of whether we’re in an amazing place or not.

I’ve been thinking a lot about bad things that happen to us. They happen, it sucks, you wallow, and you project unhappiness and anger on everything else in your life. I’m not someone who can easily separate things in my life so anything good, anything bad, anything at all is reflected across everything. The past few weeks have been unfortunate in that way. An unfortunate event mixed with culture shock is a surefire recipe for unhappiness if I ever heard of one. But things have definitely been on the up and up and I’m feeling more optimistic than ever about my experience here.

I just finished this book about a guy who gets approached to write a movie based on his memoir. He essentially rewrites his life and comes to the realization that life is a story that is written by you and only you. You are in charge of whether or not the main character does this or does that, feels this or feels that, loves this or hates that. You can make the character adventurous and have them go skydiving or climb Mt. Everest. You can make them shy and hide in the corner at an office party. You can make them a family person and have 10 kids in a house in the suburbs. You can make the character read books, watch movies, go to restaurants, meet people and travel the world because you’re the author and you control the story. But life is that way. Aren’t we the main characters in our own book? As cliché and cheesy and obvious as that may sound, it’s a simple realization that I often forget.

Why did I come to Thailand? To write a piece of the story I want my main character to live. And by coming to Thailand I, quite serendipitously (don’t you love that word?), have found myself in some amazing situations doing things I never would have done if I were in my “comfort zone”:

-I’ve learned muay thai from an ex-fighter who speaks no English and has 75% of his body covered in bamboo tattoos. I’ve been accepted ceremoniously as his student and performed a fight in front of an audience. More miraculously, I didn’t make a complete ass of myself while doing it and have learned that while practice may not make perfect, it gets you close enough.

-I’ve hiked to see an ancient temple glistening under sunlight flooding in from a hole at the top of cave and consequently seen the most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever seen.

-I’ve gotten a license to teach English to non-native speakers. That’s pretty cool!

-I’ve carried the sign for our school in a parade through the city on the King’s birthday (it was a great arm workout, whodda thunk?)

-I’ve tried food I’d never heard of and learned to speak words in a language I thought I’d never learn. I can now say hello, how are you, my name is, what is your name, eat food, would you like to eat food, rice, fried rice, spicy, delicious, it’s windy, and other somewhat useless terminology.

-I’ve rediscovered a truth I already knew but had forgotten about: Christmas, as most holidays, is extremely commercialized. In a country predominantly Buddhist, Thailand sure does love Christmas. Decorations are all over the stores, Christmas music plays over the loudspeakers at the mall (just as excessively and annoyingly as in America), and our school had a whole day devoted to Christmas just the other day when kids dressed as Santa Claus and made up dances to Jingle Bells.

Now I am as close as you can get to an atheist, with some reservations due to the great uncertainty of everything, but I love Christmas an obscene amount. So, I was naturally extremely pleased to see the abundance of Christmas spirit that exists in a country where it bears no religious significance. Yeah, the commercialization of it all is reason enough, but I’m quickly realizing that Thais just love to celebrate things. And when they celebrate, they go all out.

Yesterday every single one of my kids all wore red to school. Not just red, but full on Santa suits (complete with beards), bracelets with jingle bells on them, and red Dorothy-like shoes bought just for the occasion. Our school spent the whole week decorating with colorful tinsel, fake trees, and miniature Santas. Schools in America would never do this. We’re so worried about insulting other religions that we shy away from celebrating anything at all. Yes, Christmas holds religious significance for many, many people but as much as it has become a cultural day/month both in America and around the world, maybe we should take a cue from the Thais and seize the opportunity to celebrate things. I’m not necessarily just talking about Christmas here but in general. Thai people love to dress up to the nines, eat, get together with friends and family, decorate and plan elaborate performances for the littlest things. It makes these things, these events, seem not so little anymore and suddenly you’re not celebrating whatever it was you were supposed to be, you’re celebrating just being together and having fun. Now that’s something I can get behind.

 

…But back to the list.

 

-I’ve met amazing people from all over the world that I never would have met if I had stayed home or chosen a different path. Thais, obviously, but Americans and Brits and Australians who came here to do the same thing I am. They’re people I probably never would have met back home, but we have a shared solidarity in the difficult and trying nature of being in a foreign country for a long time. In my experience, yes people came here to travel, to learn about a new culture, to get away from something back home but even more so, I think people came here for reasons they can’t articulate. Maybe we realized that getting out of your comfort zone was in some way going to change something about our lives or coming here was going to open new doors that never would have opened if we had stayed home. I myself am still trying to figure this out and I can only imagine the farang I’m sharing this experience with are too.

-I’ve fallen permanently in love with about 50 kindergarteners who provide me with endless comic relief everyday. Example: Just the other day my kids wanted to sing Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes at the end of the lesson. We were singing and just as we were about to bend down to touch our knees, one kid throws up all over his hands. But he proceeded to continue with the dance like nothing had happened. Was it gross? Sure. Was it hilarious? Absolutely. I thought it was the perfect description of kindergarten: “I’m just having so much fun I have to throw up!”.

That is by no means an exhaustive list but it’s interesting to notice just how many opportunities and experiences emerge with a single decision.

So even in the seemingly never ending rough transition I’ve gone through in Thailand, I’ve come to realize that I can write any story I want for myself. This means I can change things at any time. I can rewrite my story as many times I want until I get it right. Now that’s pretty powerful.

My mouth is on fire. I feel like I just returned from a cavity-filling Novocain party at the dentist. My lips feel nonexistent and Angelina Jolie-massive at the same time. I may never recover. Will I ever feel my mouth again? My stomach may disappear from acid erosion. Give me water. Give me water now.

Well, that’s actually an exaggeration. In my mind however, that is the truth of eating some dishes here. Eating should be an Olympic sport when done in Thailand, especially in the northeast region of Isaan, where I live. By far the spiciest, most in-your-face flavorful dish I’ve ever had is papaya salad (som tum), a traditional staple to Thailand and particularly Isaan. When ordered it is expected of you to request it to be made to your taste, meaning spicy or really really spicy. The som tum I eat here is bought from another Thai teacher who has an incredibly high spice tolerance so I usually get the full-on experience.

While much of the spice we’re used to in America takes its form in a certain sauce such as Sriracha, or hides quietly in a dish such jalapeños in corn bread, Thailand’s spice is just chili. When eating Mexican or Indian food the spice builds, each bite getting our mouths more and more numb until finally we’ve reached our desired peak spice level. This gradual build up does not exist in Thailand: When you take a bite you are immediately smacked in the face with chili, tearing up, drowning your mouth with water, and sitting mouth gaping, hoping the air will relieve some of the pain.

I always thought I had a high tolerance for spice but let’s add that to the list of things Thailand is making me question.

I had an experience in my first weeks here after taking a bite of som tum when I found myself staring at a spot on the table, mouth wide open, eyes droopy, just lost in the effect the spice was having on me. I’m not sure how long I was like that. I swear I had an out of body experience that day. Now each time I eat som tum I wonder why I keep eating it. I have a bite, take 10 minutes to recover from that one bite, and then do it all over again. Why do I do that to myself? I actually like the taste and texture of it, but neither of those last too long until my mouth goes numb. Do I enjoy the feeling of food this spicy? I can’t say I do, it’s actually quite an ordeal and usually makes my stomach hurt for a while after.

I think it’s because I have this weird urge to adjust to those around me, which means trying new things and “proving myself” even if I don’t necessarily want to. Much like children. Chalk it up to one of my many faults or perhaps it’s really my kids running off on me.

At the risk of sounding annoyingly cliché, I’m starting to realize that teachers can learn as much from students as students learn from them, maybe even more. The life lessons they teach us are endless and that has never been more clear or obvious to me than teaching kindergarten.

At morning assembly the other day, all the kindergarteners participated in foot races as practice for our school’s Sport Day, which is coming up. It was 8 in the morning; the kids had woken up probably 30 minutes ago and were looking fatigued and bleary-eyed. They reluctantly lined up on the starting line, unenthused and tired. I was wondering if they even knew what they were supposed to do or if they would collapse in sleepy daze right then and there. But once the whistle was blown, they started running and something really amazing happened. The goofiest grins and cackles of laughter erupted from the kids as they were running, like they couldn’t believe their bodies were capable of providing them with such a fun activity. I found myself laughing harder than I have in a long time just watching them.

The other day I thought I’d try to run the way my 4 year olds do to see if I could have as much simple, unadulterated fun as they had. I wish I could say that I realized that running actually is that fun, that it’s cool that our bodies can take us places faster than walking, that it’s neat to feel a breeze slightly more powerful than if we were standing, but it was hard and tiring as usual. I tried to smile and laugh and probably ended up looking a crazed maniac. Let’s add that to the list of things that are cute when kids do them and aren’t when adults do them.

The more I thought about it though, a child’s real joy of simple things makes sense. We are born with a clean slate, a clear mind and a naked view on the world. Everything we think, do, feel, or say now is a result of many things and whether that is mostly innate or environmental is yet to be determined. Whereas adults teach children things they do not yet know, children teach adults things they once knew but have forgotten or have retired in favor of new ideas. That day I learned the beauty in simplicity and the real wonder of things we take for granted everyday.

I had never thought of having kids of my own and always thought it wasn’t going to be in the cards for me for many reasons (too selfish, too many personal goals, poopy diapers…the list goes on and on) but my views may be changing.

I recently went through something that, if it had been at home would have been extremely hard. I would have felt alone, lonely, somewhat depressed. Going through this particular situation was almost “easier” here in Thailand because I already felt somewhat alone. For the past two months, my family and friends have not been here. I made new friends but they don’t carry the same amount of comfort as the familiar faces of old friends, at least not yet. For two months I’ve been on my own, questioning who I am and why I’m here, going through sporadic personal realizations that no other experience could bring out of me.

Teaching makes me feel less alone.

Seeing the smiling faces of kids everyday makes me happy, watching them run-laughing makes me giddy with laughter too, and when that rare lightbulb goes off in their brains, I feel proud. I’ll forever owe these kids for getting me through a rough patch of loneliness, doubt, and fear. I owe them for offering me something I had no idea I needed.

There are many perks to teaching Kindergarten, especially in Thailand. For one, the kids all come with creative and entertaining names like Pinky, Earth, Tigger, and my personal favorite, Creamy. There’s even an appropriately named kid that is as wide as he is tall named Sandwich. There’s Ohm who comes to school every Friday (free dress day) in a Batman suit complete with a cape and mask and another named Garfield that comes in full Spiderman attire. There’s Mano who consistently gets lost on the way from the lunchroom to the classroom and is usually retrieved from outside where he is staring at the wall. There’s a kid named Mickey who always is quick to remind me that Mickey is a boy’s name. There’s a chubby kid named Alex who despite his sizeable body, always manages to wear pants too big for him and proceeds to be caught with his pants on the ground multiple times a day. Then there’s Best who singlehandedly makes me question my morals (especially the one where I shouldn’t hit a child).

Kids also have yet to develop a filter when they speak (well some adults are too) so everyday I have to prepare myself to hear the strangest, most unexpected things come out of their mouths. For example, one of the other teachers told me that as she was writing on the board, her back to the class, one of the students yelled out “Teacher? Why is it you have small head and big body?” No filter. Likewise, I was explaining locomotor and nonlocomotor movements to a 2^nd grade Health class the other day and as I was mid-sentence a student blurts out “Teacher Mickey, have you ever been to Benjamin Franklin’s house?” Random. Just the other day I was speaking to a class and one of the students got up from his seat, came up to me and whispered in my ear “Um Teacher, Future just burped.”

Naptime is both a blessing and a curse. For as grateful as I am for silence and calm, it is excruciating watching children sleep and knowing you don’t have the same luxury. “Milk time” is also a thing here that happens twice a day, once at 10am and again after they wake up from their after-lunch naps. They sit in a line with their milk boxes at the ready and recite a minute-long Thai blessing, which ends with “Thank you teacher and milk”, after which they break open the straws and poke ‘em in the box. The same oration happens at lunchtime, except at the end it’s “Thank you teacher and food”. At first I thought this was strange, mildy robotic and slightly creepy but I now realize that it’s yet another example of the gratefulness and appreciation in Thai culture. Thais take the time to appreciate even the most necessary of life’s needs and never miss an opportunity to acknowledge them.

Despite all this daily entertainment, to say I’ve been going through a rough transition here in Ubon Ratchathani would be somewhat of an understatement; teaching is great but endlessly overwhelming, I feel pulled in so many different directions, spread too thin, constantly in need of air and never really getting it. At the same time, homesickness has hit me hard. I have a terribly unfortunate talent of never being 100% content with where I am. Now that I’m in Thailand, doing what I’ve dreamt about forever, I miss the simplicity and comfort of home and the familiarity of family, food and local hangouts. At the same time, if I were home right now instead of Thailand, I would hate it. Things would seem banal, lifeless, routine. I would constantly be wishing I were moving, on the road, learning new things from new places and new people. I am forever wishing for something other than what I have, continually treading the line between taking advantage of opportunities given to me here and now and struggling with the prospect that there may be better opportunities somewhere else. I am never living in the moment but constantly lost in possibilities of the future or a painful nostalgia for the past. While sitting at a café in Thailand enjoying 80 degree, sunny weather, sipping an iced drink for less than 50 cents and writing I am instead lost in daydreams of walking the cobblestoned streets of Paris in the winter or hiking rugged green trails in New Zealand. I should be realizing the amazing fortune I am living right here in this moment. I should be in awe of the insane beauty around me right here in this moment. I should be grateful for this opportunity offered to me right here in this moment.

I should, so I am. “Be here now” has become somewhat of a cliché mantra for me in the past few weeks and while I find it hard to do most of the time, I am actively trying. I did not come here because it was easy. I came because I know that through the hard times, culture shock, homesickness and loneliness that this experience will be rewarding in ways I cannot articulate. That’s what keeps me going. That’s what keeps me hopeful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this quote from The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

“The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man’s body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life’s most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?”

As much as the weight is there to remind us of our commitments and of our love, the attraction of experiencing lightness is magnetic. Can you have both? Can you be both weighed down by your love for people, your commitments to morals, your desire to establish connections yet enjoy the lightness of true freedom, of no barriers to your goals, of making decisions solely based on your dreams. Can you have both?

I don’t know, but I really hope you can.

I walked into the store head held high, on a mission to find whiteboard markers and chocolate (obviously) when the strangest smell hit me. It was the best, and worst smell I had ever experienced. It was like a rotten egg rolled up inside freshly cleaned sheets or dirty socks stuffed with warm blueberry pancakes. I looked to my right and saw a little stand selling tiny donuts with flavors like “taro pineapple” and “green tea lemon”. The signs were pink and in big bubble letters were the words “Mister Donut”. All around little Thai kids were flocking to the stand like it was Hello Kitty brought to life (kind of looked like it) and I could practically see fluffy pink hearts emerging from the wafts of delicious odor. Well, I thought, that explains the best smell…

I looked to my left. A gray blob sat sadly on the seemingly darker side of the room, sign-less and simple. An older man stood defiantly in the stand, protecting the hundreds of fresh fish he had laid out upon melting ice. Many people came by, quickly bought their fish and left: a simple exchange for a simple product. I stood a second too long and accidentally got a whiff of sewer gas mixed with compost and decided it was time to move along.

Although it was a quick and ordinary instance, I started to think about how that stark contrast of smells perfectly defined Thailand to me. Thailand is filled with contradictions. Take the way they view relationships: prostitution is legal, very openly practiced and sex tourism is a major economy booster. However, relationships are very private, PDA is practically unheard of, and conservative dress is expected.

Thailand bridges traditional values with progressive ideas very well, if sometimes confusingly. For example, last weekend one of the teachers at my school took us to a temple in Ubon Ratchathani, the city we live just outside of. In temple, you remove your shoes, approach the Buddha and sit on your knees so your toes are not pointing at him (toes/feet are seen as the lowliest part of the body, the farthest from above, etc and is a sign of respect).

There were two monks sitting before the Buddha, receiving gifts from temple-goers, and blessing them. The whole temple was very quiet, very peaceful. When it was our turn we approached the monks, presented them with flowers we had bought, poured the holy water into the proper container and lit the incense. Just as the monk opened his mouth to bless us my co-teacher’s phone went off. I immediately got embarrassed for her, hoping that this wouldn’t bring us bad karma and that the monk would still bless us instead of condemn us (although I wouldn’t know the difference I suppose). I was imagining all the worst possible consequences when I realized that she had actually answered the phone and was chatting to her friend. In the temple. While a monk was speaking. I turned to the monk who had proceeded with his blessing and thought nothing of it, like this happened all the time.

After he finished blessing us the monk opened his eyes and looked right at me. I was suddenly keenly aware of my non-turtle necked shirt and slight makeup. Instead of offering a disapproving stare or yelling incantations in Thai he simply asked “Where you come from?” Apparently I was an oddity at a Buddhist temple.

“America,” I replied.

“Ah, welcome to Thailand!” said the monk, softly but excitedly.

In a similar instance, our first week here we visited a temple in Hua Hin and got blessed by a monk. He spoke to us while our instructor translated. I won’t forget how his calming voice transported me back to a time I can only imagine, how organic his words seemed, and how he had casually pulled out an iPad to take a picture of us while we were sitting. Contrast.

In other news, I’m all moved to my new and permanent city in the north east of Thailand just an hour away from the Laos border in a city called Ubon Ratchathani. In four days I have moved from one place to another, been almost attacked by dogs while running, and greeted and shocked again by the kindness of Thai people.

I am adjusting to life here, and I think it will be a slow process. I feel truly alone for the first time in Thailand, overwhelmed with information and uncertain of what teaching will be like and what is expected of me. I feel like I’m learning how to swim again (and I never really knew how in the first place). When you first learn how to swim people help you, hold your hand for a bit but before you know it, you’re thrust into open water where you can’t touch the ground and you’re forced to swim on your own. Ubon feels to me like the biggest and deepest open water I have ever experienced.

It won’t be easy, but I feel determined to make a community here that I’m happy about, that I can look back and confidently say that I had the time of my life. In the past few days I’ve had moments of deep pessimism and I don’t feel that very often. I am an optimistic person to a fault and I am unsure about how to adapt to these new feelings. If there is one thing I am determined to learn here it is patience. I will try my hardest to be patient in my new life and allow it to impress on me whatever it is meant to. I am certain of one thing: If I were home, living my great but comfortable life, I would always be wondering what this would have been like. How I would have changed. What opportunities would have come from it. What I would have learned. Now, I am given the chance to know that. I guess that’s my optimism emerging again. I hope it sticks around.

After a long two-week stretch of our TESOL course (no weekend) complete with a two-day exhausting, kid-filled, booger-infested, and amazing English language camp we were finally rewarded with a much-needed three-day weekend. Naturally, being so close to the beach, we spent most of our free days walking barefoot in the sand, narrowly avoiding jellyfish in the bathwater ocean, and sipping on 120 baht (4 bucks yo) pina coladas. It sounds idyllic, and it was, until a monsoon set in of course. Granted, it is the rainy season here in Thailand but the days will trick you with clear skies and sunshine until 2pm and then torrentially downpour with no warning. So we took shelter underneath a makeshift ceiling made of umbrellas and tarps while the storm hit the beach and what I thought was going to be a miserable experience turned out to be one of the coolest things to happen to me here. What was once a beautiful blue ocean turned into a dark gray blob and you could barely tell where ocean ended and sky began. The mountain just to the left disappeared in the dark and it suddenly felt like midnight. Wide rivers were made in the sand and the faces of people across the table from me became hard to make out. Everyone became silent underneath the pellet-like sound of the incredible rain. Half and hour later, the clear blue sky was back, the mountain reappeared, more drinks were ordered and people ran out into the wet sand, eager to return to their games. Ah, Thailand.

While the rain has become commonplace, one thing that still shocks me (pleasantly) is the low cost of everything here. As I write this, I’m digesting a full plate of the best pad thai I’ve ever eaten from the local night market for 35 baht (~1 buck). Today a few of us “splurged” on an hour-long Thai massage and a pedicure for 300 baht (~$9). Now, Thai massage is different than most you would get in the US. It involves the masseuse getting on the table, using elbows and feet to forcefully knead your body, and bend you into yoga-like positions you never thought you could do. I’ve only had one massage in America and I remember it being a relaxing, soothing and pricey experience. Well it was the exact opposite in the best way here.

The masseuse was the most intense Thai woman I have ever met. She was a woman who could probably pass for a lady boy. And not a pretty one. She blatantly said she thinks Americans are loud and talk too much and generally made it clear she wasn’t a big fan of us. So of course I was simply overjoyed she would be doing my massage. For the next hour I was punched, shoved, pulled, and put into multiple tickling frenzies when she attacked my legs. The real kicker was when she kneeled behind me, grabbed my arms over my head, and whirled my body in a circle. It made my back crack so forcefully that she yelled “HOOOYA!” Seriously. The whole ordeal was hilarious, somewhat frightening, and AMAZING. I cringed and laughed and while it was not the most blissful and relaxing time ever, I left feeling really loose, like a human noodle. I also felt like I had just gotten a great workout, although I probably just exerted energy vicariously through the woman. $6 for an imaginary workout and valuable cultural experience? What a steal. Back home that would get me part of a Chipotle burrito. Honestly though, between the massage and the burrito, that’s kind of a hard choice to make at this point.

Let’s talk about this heat.

Now granted, I don’t come from a hot climate. I’m from the land of -20 degree snowy winter days, clearly defined four seasons and mild, enjoyable summers. A Wisconsin kid in Thailand will be the first to tell you it’s hot here. Immediately after arriving I wondered if I would ever leave the indoor comfort of air conditioning or more realistically, a cheap fan blowing in your face. On the off chance that a breeze appears, everyone seems to stop and spread themselves wide in order to reap the full, albeit brief, benefits of some sort of air movement. I’ve been sweating out of orifices I didn’t even know existed until I came here. I have consumed more water in the past week than I would drink in 3 months back home because the sweat drains out of you at alarming speeds. It’s really no wonder Thais are so relaxed and move much slower than Americans – because of the heat! Anyone who knows me knows that I walk fast. Really fast. But here, I find myself slowing down. I accredit this largely because of the lethargy produced by the heat and partly because of the lax attitudes of the Thai that I hope I’m beginning to acquire.

All this being said, you really do get more used to it. I no longer feel oppressed by the air when I go outside, the sweat has simply become a part of me, and a fan after a cold shower has become my best friend.

Weather talk aside, we officially began our TESOL course yesterday! The past week has been more of an introductory period where we all get to know each other, go on planned excursions and explore the new city every night. In other words, it was freshman year welcome week all over again. Throughout the week I got the opportunity to meditate to the sound of ocean waves, get blessed by a Buddhist monk with an iPad, feed fermented pineapple to a pregnant elephant, meet local rescue dogs, and swirl paint colors into beautiful designs at an artist village. Here are some photos from my first week in Hua Hin complete with harmonica-ing elephants, cliff dwelling temples and the best damn pineapple I’ve ever tasted.

 

 

 

While walking down any street in the states, you are bound to come across more than one Starbucks and you probably find an odd comfort in knowing that no matter where you are, you’re never too far from mediocre coffee and overpriced oatmeal. Well in Thailand, 7 Elevens are the equivalent. Thirsty? No worries, cheap bottled water wrapped in a plastic bag served with a straw awaits just around the corner. As do singularly packaged bananas, slushies, and questionably delicious croissants (packaged of course).

Despite the Thai fascination with bagging everything at least three times over, finding a garbage is near impossible. And recycling? Don’t even think about it. Aside from the obvious being-in-another-country-it’s-weird feeling, the use of bottled water is a concept I have yet to get used to. As Americans we have a luxury of clean drinking water from the tap, but Thailand does not so it’s either install expensive water filters or buy bottled water. In all honesty, buying it here makes infinitely more sense than in the states but I still feel off doing it.

Another cultural shock? The traffic. Before this, “traffic” to me referred to backed up cars on the beltline during rush hour. Here, there are lines in the road (I think?) but they seem more like suggestions than rules. Motorbikes rule the road here and it’s not unlikely to see a four-person family sharing a single bike. The other day I saw a woman holding an infant baby in one arm, holding a standing young boy between her legs and driving the motorbike with the other arm. If that isn’t multitasking, I don’t know what is.

Bottled water and traffic aside, in my first week here I have been truly blown away by the kindness of the Thai people. The “Land of Smiles” could not be a more accurate representation of the way of life here and everyone approaches situations with patience and a smile. Exhibit A: In Bangkok we took a two hour boat tour down the river which took us past some of the most famous temples and landmarks for only 750 baht (roughly $23) and at one point we went under a bridge where a bride and groom were taking wedding photos. They saw our boat, waved ecstatically at us and the bridge yelled down to us “Welcome to Thailand!” Would anyone ever do that in the states? Probably not. Have I ever experienced that kind of enthusiasm for travelers in other countries? Definitely not. The Thai are a people I can and maybe need to learn a lot from; they approach everything slower (which may be from the heat, I myself am a lot slower here) and with a laid-back attitude. They are eager to help even if they can’t and are quick to smile at a complete stranger.

Made it to Hua Hin a few days ago where we’ll be for a month while taking the TESOL course. It’s a smaller city right next to the beach and much more manageable than Bangkok. More on that to come!

Riding elephants, eating spicy food washed down with fresh mango juice, relaxing on pristine tropical beaches, zooming along the coastline in a motorcycle. I have to be honest, when I decided to go to Thailand to teach English, these were the thoughts that filled my mind. While there is no doubt truth behind these stereotypical, daydreaming-invoking images, I realized quickly that I had to take a more realistic approach to moving to Thailand. I’m choosing to approach it as a learning experience rather than a party-filled vacation, a serious job rather than a way to get paid to travel, an open book rather than one I have already written in my head.
That’s the way travel has always been in my mind: the most effective way of subsequently learning about the world and yourself through an immersion in fear and the everlasting appeal of the extraordinarily new.

The way I see it, life is about realizing what you want to do and doing them. What is the point of creating aspirations for ourselves if only to talk about them fleetingly? Nothing was ever achieved (arguably) by hoping, praying or wishing for them, they were achieved by trying. Yes, trying is terrifying in every imaginable way and whether it’s in relationships or work, the risk of failure is likely what holds us back. But isn’t that slight possibility of success a worthy motivation?

When I graduated college just last May, traveling always seemed like the logical next step for me. Applying for jobs close to home or even within the states honestly never occurred to me, at least not right away. I love my home of Madison, WI but most of the time I feel too comfortable, like if I stay here I will always wonder what life would be like somewhere drastically different, in an environment where everything is new, fresh, exciting. What better time than now to go out and do what I’ve always wanted to than right now? For me, and I’m guessing for most people, waiting only creates more excuses.

I am probably the most unfortunate person to have this insatiable yearning, however, as I crumble to a puddle of tears at the mere thought of saying goodbye to people and places I care about. I am deeply, sentimentally attached to things in my life, but they are also all I’ve ever known. All I know is the only thing more powerful than my will to stay if my desire to go.

The other day I saw a gif of Mindy Kaling in which she says to herself “You are not Mindy, you’re a warrior, and your warrior name is…” So I decided to create a warrior name that would inevitably empower me in all times of self doubt to remind myself that I am a wonderful woman who can do anything she sets her mind to. However, after much concentrated thought I realized my desired warrior name, the only warrior name I was ever meant to have, had already been taken by none other than Mindy Kaling herself. “Beyoncé pad thai”. Oh well, Mickey and Mindy are similar enough that I can borrow her warrior name, at least for the time I am in Thailand, it only seems fitting.

Warrior names and sentimental thoughts aside, I truly have faith in the experience of travel. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am not a religious person but I do believe in believing in things, if that makes sense. I believe that you should trust in experiences and allow them to change you, or not change you. How you approach life is going to affect how it approaches you, so I’m choosing to seize every opportunity that comes my way and letting that experience work its magic and teach me whatever it was meant to.

Safely in Bangkok, pictures and more posts to come soon!