How was Thailand?

"How was Thailand?" is the impossible question to answer; how could I even begin to summarize that entire year? I always feel the need to say something profound yet succinct. Something that captures the magnitude of my entire experience, yet keeps in mind that no one wants the four hour version that would still only be the tip of the iceberg. And that's why after a momentary pause, I'll just say something like, "Thailand was great."

It’s been a month since I've left my position of being a full-time teacher to being a full-time student, and I’ve struggled to answer that question in the same way I’ve struggled to reflect on my entire experience on paper (screen). I feel a sense of pressure that anything I say or write needs to carry some tremendous weight, and I can never find the words. Maybe I’ll have a profound revelation in a year or two on how this experience has fundamentally changed me, but I've decided that before then, I won’t try to force something out. So I guess this is my honest attempt to answer that formidable question: how was Thailand?

Thailand was an adventure. I didn’t discover the meaning of life (although I did think about it quite a bit), and I don’t feel like I reached a newfound state of enlightenment. I haven’t become a completely new person, though I’ve grown and changed in subtle ways, the same way I grow and change from going out and living life everyday. I’ve learned how to speak (and swear) in Thai, I’ve built incredible friendships, and I did my best to teach 600 kids English. 

Thailand was composed of all the little memories. Some have taught me a lot, some have taught me absolutely nothing at all, and I cherish them all the same. There were the moments I learned to conquer my fears in face-offs with scorpions or spiders in my kitchen and moments I sat immobile under a weak fan, swearing I would never take AC for granted again. There were times where I mustered up the courage to start a conversation with the stranger sitting next to me on the bus and times I refused to make eye contact with the people gawking at the new foreigner in their village. There were times I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe, and there were times I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe (although I’m grateful to say that the former significantly outnumbered the latter.) There were a large number of days that were just neutral. Being a teacher is a full-time job, and like any other full-time job, it initiates routine. Those days made up the most of my time in Thailand– the days of biking to school and waving at all the students who sped past me on their motorcycles, teaching my classes and trekking up four flights of stairs between periods to seek solace in the AC-filled office, mustering up the energy to make it out to Pencack practice and staying late to chat with the kids, and biking to the local market to get fresh produce for whatever I wanted to cook for dinner.

Thailand was so many different sounds, smells, and sensations I had never experienced before. I grew to love the way I would start coughing every time chilis were thrown into hot oil and the fragrant smoke diffused through the room. I got used to the feeling of rain on my skin in the village where umbrellas were only futile. I woke up to the sounds of roosters and geckos each morning, sometimes early enough to hear the bell signaling that monks are passing through. I learned to accept the constant sensation of sweat dripping down my body– I genuinely don't think my body has ever produced that much sweat in a year. And I swear, everyone in Thailand sleeps on rock-hard beds.

Thailand was the kids. I was endlessly challenged and charmed by my 7th and 10th graders, who never failed to surprise me in the best and worst ways. While I tried to teach them English, they taught me patience, perseverance, and a lot of words in Isaan. I’m not sure how much English most of my students actually retained, but I don’t think my role there was really to teach them new vocabulary words or sentence structures. I think if I sparked curiosity or excitement about learning English or traveling outside the country within any of my students, I did my job. In my last week at Khammuang, I promised all my students that if they made it out to America, I would give them a place to stay and show them around. Out of the hundreds of students that I promised, I truly believe that there will be some students who will eventually travel to America and reach out to me. And if it’s only one student, that would be enough for me.

Thailand was a place of the most incredible people and relationships I’ve formed. I had conversations and built friendships with so many people who gave me both comfort and support while pushing me, both intentionally and unintentionally, to explore different perspectives and learn so much about the world in a way I could never learn in a classroom. I experienced life in Khammuang; the people, the culture, the music, and the food. I learned that love is expressed with food, and created so many shared memories around food. I ate a lot of really, really good food. I know that I will be forever grateful to every person who welcomed me into their life– to all the teachers and students at Khammuang, to all the strangers I befriended on weekend rendezvous, and to my incredible Muay Thai community. If there is one thing I am sure will never leave me, it will be that deep sense of gratitude.

I don’t really have a profound realization to share, nothing quite life-changing, but then again, I would say that all the little moments and all the relationships I formed were pretty profound and life-changing to me. And all of that is what I mean when I say, "Thailand was great."

Some photos from my last month in Khammuang