As I approach the end of my year living in Thailand, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting. This has certainly been the most adventurous, magical, life-changing, and crazy year of my life, and I could not be more grateful for the way everything worked out. I will forever hold a special place in my heart for Kalasin, the far-off town in Northeast Thailand that welcomed me with open arms and gave me people and experiences I’ll cherish forever.
As I reflect, I’ve tried to decide the greatest lesson I’ll take away from this year and have finally settled on a single word: joy. Thailand has taught me that it is more than okay to be joyful and that, in fact, life should revolve around this joy. I’ve laughed more in these past 365 days than I have maybe in my entire life. And yes, I mean my full-force ear-piercing cackle. Sometimes, this was because it was either laugh or break down crying. Yet, most of the time, it was because of the silly, goofy, joyful nature of life here.
As a recovering Type A perfectionist, I’ve been broken open by this country. My well-constructed plans and ideas of what life is supposed to look like have been tossed aside in exchange for spontaneity and unexpected surprises. I’ve learned that it’s okay to not know what’s coming next. It’s okay for today to just be today and for each day to just be full of little moments of fun that add up to something fulfilling. I’ve grown to appreciate activities that in most other places would seem mundane but in Thailand spark inexplicable joy-- my morning coffee purchase, a trip to the laundromat, buying groceries for the week, travelling via public transportation, and generally anything that involves communication. Living in a country where I don’t speak the language, I’ve felt like a little kid stumbling over myself, hoping someone can direct me to the right place. It’s humbling and hysterical and another reminder that it’s okay to laugh at yourself (especially when you realize your attempts at translating have gone horribly awry).
If you’ve been following along on my journey or gotten the chance to experience any of it with me, you’ll know that the Thai people and I have a sort of special connection. I frequently find myself in situations where I am communicating with a Thai person solely through hysterical laughter. From taxi drivers to waiters, tour guides to tattoo artists, bartenders to masseuses, I have had this similar experience with Thais in every part of this country. I've fallen in love with the way they aren’t afraid to express their joy and giggle like children. They don’t call it the Land of Smiles for nothing.
Despite these daily delights, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the challenges of living in Thailand. For the past year, I've lived in an apartment building called Lucky Mansion that--according to Google Maps--is permanently closed. I flushed my toilet with a bucket. It rained in my bedroom whenever there was a heavy storm. I had a variety of dwellers living rent free--geckos who left their droppings everywhere, birds building nests in my window, and unwelcome bug invaders that I was forced to fend off. My landlord spoke not a word of English but would frequently tell me seemingly important information in rapid fire Thai. Being one of the only young foreigners in my town, I was frequently stared at and photographed while doing any normal activity. My students’ English levels varied greatly, and I had to create lesson plans that catered to both those who spoke fluently and those who would just smile at me when I asked them a question. I’m still recovering from the trauma of my recent leg infection that left me subject to the care of the staff at the local hospital who spoke barely any English. Yet, despite all these challenges, I wouldn’t trade a moment of this past year for anything. I realized early on that I had a choice in how I viewed these difficulties: I could get frustrated and upset (which wouldn’t change anything) or I could laugh and embrace the way nothing made sense. Naturally, I chose to laugh.
Looking ahead, I don’t know for certain what’s next. And--as surprised as I am to hear myself admit-- I’m okay with that. The best things happen when you open yourself up to possibility. What I do know is that after I leave this beautiful country that was home for a bit, I’ll carry these sentiments with me: I’ll appreciate the good moments as they’re happening; I’ll continue to laugh (especially at myself); I’ll put myself in situations that aren’t always comfortable; I’ll explore more of the world through travel; I'll choose joy.
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