Another year coming to an end. Another new year just around the corner. What does it have in store for us, I wonder? As we begin this day, the last day of 2015, I am thinking about the last two years, when I finally fulfilled my dream of living abroad and traveling and seeing more of the world. During those two years, I felt more at home, energized, and alive than I felt in my previous 30+ years. I felt more purpose and meaning in my life, and I met more kindred spirits in those two years than I ever did.
For us, the last two new year's eves were spent on the road: Vietnam in 2013 and Taiwan in 2014. It was amazing and incredible. What I've learned from the last two years is this: home is not a physical location. Home is where your heart is, where your loved ones are. I felt quite at home in countries where I didn't know the language or the customs, where I didn't know anyone. But my family was with me, and together, we had our adventures and overcame obstacles. Through it all, we became closer, got to know ourselves and each other better, expanded our horizons, and made a home for ourselves in unexpected ways and places.
I hope this coming year brings more of the same. And I hope that all of you get closer to fulfilling your dreams in this new year, whatever they may be. May you find your place in this big, chaotic world, surrounded by those you love and those who love and support you.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Irreversibly Shocked
In a few weeks, we will have been home for six months. I haven't been keeping up with blog posts because I have been feeling completely uninspired. While the first month or so at home felt...tolerable (I won't say it was fine because it wasn't even that), I've been growing more and more unhappy about my life here, feeling more and more out of place. Yes, I have a raging case of reverse culture shock.
The first and most obvious change was my physical environment and surrounding. Life in an American suburb is mind-numbing, to say the least. It lacks any kind of culture and stimulation. This kind of environment can zap anyone of life. Add to that the impending winter, the bitter cold, shorter days, and weak sunlight. During the warmer months, there is at least color in the trees and flowers. Now, everything is gray or brown. Adjusting to the cold also has been torturous. I get cold easily and do not warm up easily. I hate the restrictions and feeling of confinement from all the layers we need to put on and from having to be inside just to keep from freezing. And the need to hunker down for an entire season...I can't even. People rush around in their layers in order to get to somewhere warm. They don't stop to talk (not that they normally do anyway), make eye contact, or even acknowledge others' presence. Winter is an isolating season.
But what's been far worse has been the people's mentality and attitude. Americans may pride themselves in their individuality, but, as they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same. The younger people are so intent on being different and standing out that everyone becomes the same in their differences. And from this mindset of individuality comes a sense of entitlement, rudeness, and selfishness. Everyone thinks they are so different and special, deserving of whatever it is they think they've earned.
Even in everyday life, entitlement rears its ugly head -- people grow impatient waiting in lines and cut ahead in traffic. They think they are more important than everyone else and their time is more precious. Everywhere I turn to, people are unkind to each other. Nothing is sacred; there is no respect for anything, especially from the teenagers.
As for selfishness -- well, it permeates our culture. Everyone is looking out for only Number One and not for anyone else. They are judgmental about who "deserves" help and who doesn't. There's no human connection and a dearth of empathy for fellow human beings. One morning, a few weeks ago, as I was walking out of the metro train station, a woman in front of me suddenly slipped on something and fell. Only two of us stopped to make sure she was okay; everyone else -- in a train station full of people at the height of rush hour -- didn't even acknowledge that something had happened! They just rushed by in a hurry as if they didn't just see a person fall. This incident, to me, epitomizes the current state of humanity in our society. We've stopped seeing each other as human beings that need our support.
As for the people's mentality -- well, you've seen what's been going on. It has now become acceptable to openly make discriminatory statements against minority groups and advocate for the ban of certain minority groups from this country, all based on generalizations and stereotypes (which, of course, don't apply to the American people at all!). It's a slippery slope because once we allow discrimination for one group, it will soon become acceptable for other groups as well. It's been disheartening and scary to see how many people are still so prejudiced in their thinking and actions. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
On a more personal level, people have continued to amaze me with their ignorance, confusing Thailand with Taiwan, Thai with Taiwanese. They are ignorant of the culture and politics of other countries, and have no desire to learn. On the contrary, almost everyone I've ever met in Asia, including un(der)-educated taxi drivers and housekeepers, is very knowledgeable about other countries. Some of them know more about the U.S. and our government than most Americans do. People here also don't see the need to learn about other cultures or learn other languages. I am tired of the willful ignorance of the people here. For such an expansive country, Americans are really very insulated and narrow-minded.
As you can see, it's been a challenging few months. It feels like it's been over a year, and has been emotionally draining and exhausting. I hope things get easier, but at the same time, I hope they don't so I don't get complacent. The way things are going here, I do not want to stay and have my son grow up in such a hostile environment.
The first and most obvious change was my physical environment and surrounding. Life in an American suburb is mind-numbing, to say the least. It lacks any kind of culture and stimulation. This kind of environment can zap anyone of life. Add to that the impending winter, the bitter cold, shorter days, and weak sunlight. During the warmer months, there is at least color in the trees and flowers. Now, everything is gray or brown. Adjusting to the cold also has been torturous. I get cold easily and do not warm up easily. I hate the restrictions and feeling of confinement from all the layers we need to put on and from having to be inside just to keep from freezing. And the need to hunker down for an entire season...I can't even. People rush around in their layers in order to get to somewhere warm. They don't stop to talk (not that they normally do anyway), make eye contact, or even acknowledge others' presence. Winter is an isolating season.
But what's been far worse has been the people's mentality and attitude. Americans may pride themselves in their individuality, but, as they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same. The younger people are so intent on being different and standing out that everyone becomes the same in their differences. And from this mindset of individuality comes a sense of entitlement, rudeness, and selfishness. Everyone thinks they are so different and special, deserving of whatever it is they think they've earned.
Even in everyday life, entitlement rears its ugly head -- people grow impatient waiting in lines and cut ahead in traffic. They think they are more important than everyone else and their time is more precious. Everywhere I turn to, people are unkind to each other. Nothing is sacred; there is no respect for anything, especially from the teenagers.
As for selfishness -- well, it permeates our culture. Everyone is looking out for only Number One and not for anyone else. They are judgmental about who "deserves" help and who doesn't. There's no human connection and a dearth of empathy for fellow human beings. One morning, a few weeks ago, as I was walking out of the metro train station, a woman in front of me suddenly slipped on something and fell. Only two of us stopped to make sure she was okay; everyone else -- in a train station full of people at the height of rush hour -- didn't even acknowledge that something had happened! They just rushed by in a hurry as if they didn't just see a person fall. This incident, to me, epitomizes the current state of humanity in our society. We've stopped seeing each other as human beings that need our support.
As for the people's mentality -- well, you've seen what's been going on. It has now become acceptable to openly make discriminatory statements against minority groups and advocate for the ban of certain minority groups from this country, all based on generalizations and stereotypes (which, of course, don't apply to the American people at all!). It's a slippery slope because once we allow discrimination for one group, it will soon become acceptable for other groups as well. It's been disheartening and scary to see how many people are still so prejudiced in their thinking and actions. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
On a more personal level, people have continued to amaze me with their ignorance, confusing Thailand with Taiwan, Thai with Taiwanese. They are ignorant of the culture and politics of other countries, and have no desire to learn. On the contrary, almost everyone I've ever met in Asia, including un(der)-educated taxi drivers and housekeepers, is very knowledgeable about other countries. Some of them know more about the U.S. and our government than most Americans do. People here also don't see the need to learn about other cultures or learn other languages. I am tired of the willful ignorance of the people here. For such an expansive country, Americans are really very insulated and narrow-minded.
As you can see, it's been a challenging few months. It feels like it's been over a year, and has been emotionally draining and exhausting. I hope things get easier, but at the same time, I hope they don't so I don't get complacent. The way things are going here, I do not want to stay and have my son grow up in such a hostile environment.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
First Holiday Season at Home
This morning, when I turned on the car radio, Christmas music was playing. After a moment's shock, instead of feeling the anticipation of the impending holidays, I was immediately overcome with sadness and a sense of emptiness. I cried.
Before Thailand (B.T.), I loved hearing Christmas music on the radio, looked forward to it, and was a little sad when it ended. But along with the music also comes the Holiday Season, and all the hopes and promises that come with it. It is something you're supposed to look forward to. From around Halloween until after New Year's, it's a huge build-up of commercialized frenzy, anticipation, and excitement, even though it's supposed to be a religious holiday. Kids put on holiday shows at school and at church, make lengthy wish lists of what they want Santa to bring them, talk for months about what they want for Christmas, make "holiday" crafts, bake cookies, eat said cookies and other holiday treats. They count down to Christmas and "track" Santa on where he is on his journey. Now, there's also Elf on the Shelf that may bring little gifts before Christmas arrives, and other gimmicks to get kids in the "holiday spirit" (because they really need help with that!). Christmas music is blared everywhere. Ads and commercials tell you all the wonderful Christmas surprises your loved ones will want and you should get them. Everywhere you go, everyone and everything dictate your feelings, behaviors, and actions. Holiday festivities and shows abound. People shop, shop, and shop some more in anticipation of the festivities they will put on and will attend. People get together and eat and drink and pretend that life is perfect and wonderful with no cares. Families get together and try to cram a whole year's worth of time together into one or two days. And the piles and piles of presents -- things that are cherished for the moment, but all too quickly forgotten and tossed aside for the amount of time and thought put into them.
It's supposed to be a "magical" time of the year, full of joy and love.
But when it's all over -- and it's always over much sooner than you expect and hope, and much quicker than all the time you put into preparing for it -- there's a sense of let-down and a void. People get on diets and "detox" programs to get rid of all the crap they put into their bodies for all those months. They exercise to lose the "holiday pounds." Life goes back to "normal." It was the roller-coaster emotional ride of the holidays that I could never get used to. You're high as a kite one day, and down in the dumps the next. Never having celebrated Christmas as a child, I could never really get into the "holiday spirit," and always thought the anticipation and commercialization of it were overblown. It felt like everyone pinning all their hopes and dreams on that one day. And it's gotten only worse, too, in my opinion -- much more commercialized and crazed.
In Thailand, it's much more low-key and manageable. Because Christmas is not celebrated in Thailand, there is no crazy hysteria over the holiday. Some places, like the westernized malls, and some restaurants and public places will decorate with lighting and play holiday music (which they also do in July...). Our school, being an international school with an American curriculum, puts on a big, elementary-wide holiday show. Each class may have a party with food from different parts of the world, depending on the nationalities of the kids in the class. Teachers receive little gifts from some of their students. But that is it. It starts in the beginning of December (not October or November) and ends before Christmas Day because the school's break begins at least one week before that. It is nice and sweet.
I don't know why hearing that Christmas music made me sad. Maybe it reminded me of all the past holiday seasons and the exhilaration that I felt while I was immersed in it, but also how hollow and unfulfilled it left me. And this year, it'll take extra effort to get through it because I haven't had to deal with it or felt this way for two years. It's taken me a while, but I'm beginning to realize that I can no longer deal with the over-the-top, emotional ups and downs that are so much a part of American life because I tend to internalize the mood of those around me. Americans are a passionate people, I'll give them that, and compared to, say, the Asians, they wear their emotions on their sleeves. They're elated, devastated, pissed off, depressed -- sometimes all within a day or even an hour! But I appreciate and connect more with the even-keeled temperament of the Asians. Even though there's no thrilling roller coaster ride with this type of temperament, being in a more emotionally stable environment not only takes the pressure off to have an opinion and emotion about everything. It also allows me to let go and brings a sense of peace and contentment that I've never felt here. For me, that is priceless and worth much more than any temporary sense of euphoria that the holiday season brings.
Before Thailand (B.T.), I loved hearing Christmas music on the radio, looked forward to it, and was a little sad when it ended. But along with the music also comes the Holiday Season, and all the hopes and promises that come with it. It is something you're supposed to look forward to. From around Halloween until after New Year's, it's a huge build-up of commercialized frenzy, anticipation, and excitement, even though it's supposed to be a religious holiday. Kids put on holiday shows at school and at church, make lengthy wish lists of what they want Santa to bring them, talk for months about what they want for Christmas, make "holiday" crafts, bake cookies, eat said cookies and other holiday treats. They count down to Christmas and "track" Santa on where he is on his journey. Now, there's also Elf on the Shelf that may bring little gifts before Christmas arrives, and other gimmicks to get kids in the "holiday spirit" (because they really need help with that!). Christmas music is blared everywhere. Ads and commercials tell you all the wonderful Christmas surprises your loved ones will want and you should get them. Everywhere you go, everyone and everything dictate your feelings, behaviors, and actions. Holiday festivities and shows abound. People shop, shop, and shop some more in anticipation of the festivities they will put on and will attend. People get together and eat and drink and pretend that life is perfect and wonderful with no cares. Families get together and try to cram a whole year's worth of time together into one or two days. And the piles and piles of presents -- things that are cherished for the moment, but all too quickly forgotten and tossed aside for the amount of time and thought put into them.
It's supposed to be a "magical" time of the year, full of joy and love.
But when it's all over -- and it's always over much sooner than you expect and hope, and much quicker than all the time you put into preparing for it -- there's a sense of let-down and a void. People get on diets and "detox" programs to get rid of all the crap they put into their bodies for all those months. They exercise to lose the "holiday pounds." Life goes back to "normal." It was the roller-coaster emotional ride of the holidays that I could never get used to. You're high as a kite one day, and down in the dumps the next. Never having celebrated Christmas as a child, I could never really get into the "holiday spirit," and always thought the anticipation and commercialization of it were overblown. It felt like everyone pinning all their hopes and dreams on that one day. And it's gotten only worse, too, in my opinion -- much more commercialized and crazed.
In Thailand, it's much more low-key and manageable. Because Christmas is not celebrated in Thailand, there is no crazy hysteria over the holiday. Some places, like the westernized malls, and some restaurants and public places will decorate with lighting and play holiday music (which they also do in July...). Our school, being an international school with an American curriculum, puts on a big, elementary-wide holiday show. Each class may have a party with food from different parts of the world, depending on the nationalities of the kids in the class. Teachers receive little gifts from some of their students. But that is it. It starts in the beginning of December (not October or November) and ends before Christmas Day because the school's break begins at least one week before that. It is nice and sweet.
I don't know why hearing that Christmas music made me sad. Maybe it reminded me of all the past holiday seasons and the exhilaration that I felt while I was immersed in it, but also how hollow and unfulfilled it left me. And this year, it'll take extra effort to get through it because I haven't had to deal with it or felt this way for two years. It's taken me a while, but I'm beginning to realize that I can no longer deal with the over-the-top, emotional ups and downs that are so much a part of American life because I tend to internalize the mood of those around me. Americans are a passionate people, I'll give them that, and compared to, say, the Asians, they wear their emotions on their sleeves. They're elated, devastated, pissed off, depressed -- sometimes all within a day or even an hour! But I appreciate and connect more with the even-keeled temperament of the Asians. Even though there's no thrilling roller coaster ride with this type of temperament, being in a more emotionally stable environment not only takes the pressure off to have an opinion and emotion about everything. It also allows me to let go and brings a sense of peace and contentment that I've never felt here. For me, that is priceless and worth much more than any temporary sense of euphoria that the holiday season brings.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Awkward!
Over the last three months or so, I had increasingly noticed that something was off, not quite right. But I could never put my finger on it. Then, one day, as I stood waiting for my son to be dismissed from school, watching other parents, it hit me -- ever since coming home, I'm often at a loss as to how to behave or what to say when interacting with my fellow Americans. It's like I'm that awkward teenager again, all squirmy and twitchy, not sure where to look or where to put my hands.
The first example is interacting with my son's teachers. Before Thailand, this was a no-brainer: my child's teacher is a professional, an authority figure, so our interactions are more formal in nature. In Thailand, though, all the lines were blurred: my son's teachers were not only professional educators and authority figures, but they were also our colleagues, our friends, part of our social circle, and sometimes our bosses! And sometimes we were our colleagues'/friends'/bosses' kids' teachers, too! We had to learn to straddle being friendly-casual and formal-professional. In one conversation, we could have discussions on travel destinations, where to shop for groceries, and hiring maids, to how our children were doing in each others' classes and personally, to professional development! This new kind of socializing took a while to get used to and learn to navigate, for sure.
So now we are back, and I have NO clue how to behave towards my son's teachers. What do I say to them? If I ask them about their families and personal lives, is that too casual and out of line? Would that be seen as being nosy? If I ask his main teacher about her life abroad (she's from New Zealand and has lived all over the world), is that getting too personal? Would she think I only cared about her as my son's teacher if I only ever talked to her about school?
These days, I must seem like such a strange creature in others' eyes -- standing off to the side, watching people, looking confused and consternated. But it's only because I'm trying to figure out all over again how the heck to act and what to say in different social situations. Luckily, I'm not too bewildered to make sure the thoughts racing through my head stay in my head and don't come flying out of my mouth.
Then there's the act of walking down the street. During the last two years, I had gotten used to smiles from everyone while walking down the street, and returning those smiles. Strangers strike up conversations and talk comfortably with each other. However, the friendly ways of the Thai people are very different from those of the American people, especially in our area of the country. Most people don't even make eye contact with others, either looking past or through each other, let alone smile. So many times, I've found myself smiling at someone, then wiping it off my face as I see the stony expression on the other person's face and it registers that no one smiles at each other here. Once or twice, I have been surprised when I unexpectedly receive a greeting initiated by a stranger. My facial muscles have been performing gymnastic feats as I continually, and sometimes quickly, contort and distort my face from stony to smiling to frowning, depending on other people's expressions.
Professionally, I've found myself in a similar position, as if I've just graduated and have no idea how professionals speak with each other! I'm so used to interacting casually with everyone from our maid to the administrators at our school in Thailand that I'd forgotten how to "act professionally" and the words that people use professional settings here. And by the time I figure it out, the moment is gone.
It's hard to believe we were gone for only two years; everything feels so foreign, I might as well be a new immigrant stepping foot on American soil for the first time and speaking a foreign language. Which is how many expats describe their experience when they go home again. In fact, I would probably fare better if I were actually speaking a foreign language....Hmmm, maybe I should pretend to be a foreigner until I'm more used to acting "American" again.
The first example is interacting with my son's teachers. Before Thailand, this was a no-brainer: my child's teacher is a professional, an authority figure, so our interactions are more formal in nature. In Thailand, though, all the lines were blurred: my son's teachers were not only professional educators and authority figures, but they were also our colleagues, our friends, part of our social circle, and sometimes our bosses! And sometimes we were our colleagues'/friends'/bosses' kids' teachers, too! We had to learn to straddle being friendly-casual and formal-professional. In one conversation, we could have discussions on travel destinations, where to shop for groceries, and hiring maids, to how our children were doing in each others' classes and personally, to professional development! This new kind of socializing took a while to get used to and learn to navigate, for sure.
So now we are back, and I have NO clue how to behave towards my son's teachers. What do I say to them? If I ask them about their families and personal lives, is that too casual and out of line? Would that be seen as being nosy? If I ask his main teacher about her life abroad (she's from New Zealand and has lived all over the world), is that getting too personal? Would she think I only cared about her as my son's teacher if I only ever talked to her about school?
These days, I must seem like such a strange creature in others' eyes -- standing off to the side, watching people, looking confused and consternated. But it's only because I'm trying to figure out all over again how the heck to act and what to say in different social situations. Luckily, I'm not too bewildered to make sure the thoughts racing through my head stay in my head and don't come flying out of my mouth.
Then there's the act of walking down the street. During the last two years, I had gotten used to smiles from everyone while walking down the street, and returning those smiles. Strangers strike up conversations and talk comfortably with each other. However, the friendly ways of the Thai people are very different from those of the American people, especially in our area of the country. Most people don't even make eye contact with others, either looking past or through each other, let alone smile. So many times, I've found myself smiling at someone, then wiping it off my face as I see the stony expression on the other person's face and it registers that no one smiles at each other here. Once or twice, I have been surprised when I unexpectedly receive a greeting initiated by a stranger. My facial muscles have been performing gymnastic feats as I continually, and sometimes quickly, contort and distort my face from stony to smiling to frowning, depending on other people's expressions.
Professionally, I've found myself in a similar position, as if I've just graduated and have no idea how professionals speak with each other! I'm so used to interacting casually with everyone from our maid to the administrators at our school in Thailand that I'd forgotten how to "act professionally" and the words that people use professional settings here. And by the time I figure it out, the moment is gone.
It's hard to believe we were gone for only two years; everything feels so foreign, I might as well be a new immigrant stepping foot on American soil for the first time and speaking a foreign language. Which is how many expats describe their experience when they go home again. In fact, I would probably fare better if I were actually speaking a foreign language....Hmmm, maybe I should pretend to be a foreigner until I'm more used to acting "American" again.
Monday, September 21, 2015
The "After" Life
So we've been back for about 2 1/2 months now. Day-to-day life is finally beginning to normalize a bit. But it's been a very long two months, and our time abroad feels like a dream. I have to admit, it's been pretty hard for me being back, a lot more difficult than moving abroad two years ago. Prior to our return, I already had concerns about repatriating and all the adjustments that come with it, all based on how I felt last summer when we came back to visit for one short month. From conversations with various friends who went back to their home countries and then returned abroad permanently, I also knew moving home permanently was going to be ten times more painful than simply visiting during vacation. To prepare myself, I tried imagining life in America and how I would handle things, and read articles about strategies on dealing with repatriation. But, of course, nothing can truly prepare one for reality except for reality itself.
The adjustments have been both big and small, affecting every facet of life -- physical, emotional, mental, cultural, spiritual. On a daily basis, the landscape of American life feels uneventfully familiar, yet also trying and taxing. The day-to-day routine is duller. lacking in adventure, and much less colorful (literally and figuratively). Gone are the days when, while walking down just the two blocks of my street, I encounter people of all ages wearing everything from pajamas to cocktail dresses, scooters, cats and dogs, vibrantly colored flowers and plants, and sometimes monitor lizards and other scaly beings. Now all I see are cars and maybe a few people. The buildings and landscape are earth-toned and completely lacking in vibrancy. I'm no longer accustomed to the chillier climate or dressing in layers and wearing any type of footwear other than flip-flops. Now I pay my bills the "old-fashioned" way -- electronically, through my bank account, rather than with cash at the local 7-Eleven. Grocery shopping these days is at once boring and overwhelming and stressful. I've had to re-learn everyday tasks like grocery shopping, driving with different rules and traffic patterns, writing checks, and loading the dishwasher. I've even forgotten certain common English words and expressions, even though we continued to speak English in Thailand.
I also feel much more restricted now, even with a car. I'm so used to being able to just walk, bike, or scoot for a few minutes to get to anywhere -- grocery stores, markets, restaurants, cafes, playground -- that having to drive a car just to get to any of these places now feels tiresome and confining. My son also has felt the loss of freedom he enjoyed in Thailand, where he had more independence, and was able to run off with friends for hours at a time and run of the campus when at school. Now, whenever he wants to go somewhere, he has to depend on us to drive him, and his movements at school are more restricted as well.
The bigger changes are even harder to adjust to. The biggest shift I've had to get used to has been the loss of community after coming back. Here, we live farther away from everyone; our friends are scattered all over the D.C. metro area across D.C., Virginia, and Maryland. To get together, we all have to check our busy schedules and plan weeks ahead. Also, most extended families don't live close to each other and see one another only during holidays, so there's also little to no support from family for many. In Thailand, not only did we have the ready-made support network of our school, but we also lived within a five- or ten-minute walk of most of our close friends. We could just gather spontaneously after work or whenever the mood struck us, right in our own neighborhood, where restaurants and coffee shops abound. Even living in a more Thai neighborhood our second year, we felt enveloped by a community. While out and about, we would meet and strike up conversations with Thai people who were out for a stroll or just socializing with each other, and befriend them. Even though being back home eliminates the cultural and language barriers, it nevertheless feels lonelier and more isolating to be living among people we're supposed to have more in common with than among those we weren't even able to communicate with.
Something else I've really had a hard time adjusting to is the bombardment of expectations and obligations, especially from my family. Almost as soon as we stepped off the plane, we were inundated with questions and advice that implied unspoken expectations that we will return to "real life" now that we've gotten the fun of being abroad out of our systems. Some questions and comments include: Will you be buying another house to settle down in? You're home for good now, right? You need to put down roots for your son. Why would you want to leave again, anyway? Are you doing this or that with your son? You need to get x, y, and z things for your new home. You (meaning me) should be looking into doing a, b, or c for job possibilities.
Many people seem uncomfortable with uncertainty and change, and have been quick to want to put us back into boxes that we were in previously because that was what we were and will be in their minds. When we respond that we're not sure where we will be living or whether we will be going abroad again in three to five years, so we're not going to buy yet another house, or that I'm just going to take a moment to adjust and to see what comes up for me job-wise, people are taken aback. My own mother immediately began to "instruct" me on what I should tell my relatives about our new living and working "situation," as if our choice to live in an apartment rather than a single-family house, and my preference to take my time looking for a job that I actually might be excited about, were shameful actions to be hidden. It is annoying at best and demoralizing at worst, and especially difficult to swallow after two years of having the freedom and space to be myself in all respects, without judgment or criticism. Since returning two short months ago, I've already physically and mentally felt my world and energy contract and stifled again. I feel completely uninspired, as if all the hope, creativity, and imagination I had ever had and felt for the past two years have disappeared forever. While I'm fighting like hell from being stuffed back into these confining and limiting boxes, it is still exhausting and draining to have to spend energy actively ignoring feelings of suffocation and swimming against the current all the time.
The culture of consumption and materialism that we live in is another change I'm trying to get used to. For the past two years, I lived in houses that were already furnished, and we did not buy one single piece of furniture while in Thailand. Everything that we owned could fit into ten plastic containers that traveled to and from Thailand with us. For two years, I did not spend one minute thinking about accumulating material things. Don't get me wrong, consumerism and materialism are alive and well in Thailand, especially with the middle and upper classes. There are more mega-sized, very high-end shopping malls in Bangkok than I've ever seen anywhere else. But because we mostly hung out with expats, we weren't exposed to that as much. The people we hung out with are more our kindred spirits in this respect and with other values. No one spent energy thinking about looking for and acquiring things. And as many of them are nomadic by nature and have never lived in any one place for more than a handful of years in their adult lives (some of them are only 30 years old and have already lived in five or six different countries since graduating from college), they don't tend to accumulate much in terms of possessions. Then we came home. Immediately, the amount of stuff we owned tripled because we had stored some furniture, appliances, and other things with my parents. Seeing the piles in front of me totally overwhelmed me and made me feel weighted down.
After two years with people who mostly focused on having experiences instead of things, it struck me how many people in this country spend so much of their time and energy talking about, researching, and thinking about the things they want to have or how to get more of what they have, working their butts off to make enough money to buy (more of) the things they want to have, and planning for the things they want to have. Bigger homes, nicer cars, shoes, brand-name clothes, electronic devices, accessories for everything in one's life--the list goes on. If you want it, it's out there to be bought and had. And if you already have it, there are always better and bigger things to strive for. So many people are working themselves to death just so they can have nice things and hold onto what nice things they already have. They become slaves to these things. I was never into material possessions as an adult, but after seeing all this focus on material things around me, I realized that a lot of my mental energy used to be spent on that as well because that was what was "normal." I've come to realize that I no longer have tolerance for this aspect of American culture, and I don't want that to be any part of my existence anymore. It's quite freeing, actually -- when I see ads or catalogs for beautiful and shiny new things, I don't feel a twinge of desire. On the other hand, because there's neither a sense of want nor urgency to acquire anything, most of our living room remains an open and empty space, and I have no desire to shop for things that need replacing.
Going hand in hand with the culture of consumerism and materialism is the information overload that exists everywhere I go. Even though I still had access to American news while in Thailand, I could limit my exposure to it and control how much I wanted to know from such a long distance. In addition, I understood so little of what was around me--the television, the radio--that it was easy to ignore. Our lives were simple and quiet compared to our lives here; we truly lived the maxim of "ignorance is bliss." Being back here, I'm constantly being inundated with ads, information, news, opinions, and entertainment. At seemingly every moment, there are different messages battling for my attention; there are so, so many distractions all around. I've been limiting my time on the internet, listening to the radio, reading the news, and being out in public just to stay sane and focused.
The people here also aren't what I've gotten used to anymore. After living in a very relaxed atmosphere among extremely laid-back people for two years, it's hard to get used to all the type-A personalities and uptight people in this area. Add to that those people who are also self-important egomaniacs -- very common in this area, unfortunately -- and you get what feels like a rushed and unfriendly environment.
I've also had a hard time with the narrow-mindedness of the people of this country. Within the first two weeks of returning from Thailand, I heard very derogatory comments about African-Americans, gay people, and other minority groups, from three different individuals -- a relative, an acquaintance, and a stranger! I was floored. I nearly got into a shouting match with the relative who made these comments, and I had to walk away from the acquaintance. But the stranger backed down once she realized we did not see eye-to-eye. And hearing all the discriminatory comments on the news directed at those who believe differently, those with different skin colors, women, and other minority groups makes me sad and angry all at once. It's a disgrace and embarrassment.
In general, I feel as if I've been having an out-of-body experience for the past two months. I see myself going through the motions of re-settling back into life here, but I feel as if I'm watching someone else do it and can't quite wrap my brain around what's happening. I feel numb and detached from my life--in denial. I think one of the reasons we still have packed-up boxes and hardly any furniture is that I still can't quite believe we're home for good. Then there are the times when it feels as if nothing has changed and yet everything has changed--that strange feeling my life here has always been the way it is and that Thailand never actually happened, yet feeling out of place and time at the same time. Sometimes, though, I'm reminded, with a jolt -- as if waking up from a dream--of where I am, and I miss Thailand and our life there so much that it hurts. Mentally and emotionally, I've been all over the place.
At any rate, I don't know that I want to get used to some of the things I mentioned above. I want to remember that things can be different. Nevertheless, I've taken to heart some of the advice about repatriating that I've been given and read (such as here and here), and am taking my time readjusting. The "old" me would've wanted to rush through the process, and get on with life already. But now, I'm being patient and letting myself feel the grief of what I've lost. I'm trying to appreciate what is now in front of me. And I'm allowing myself time to reflect and think. And plan for more adventures in the future, of course. Because there will be more adventures. I'm not even close to being done
The adjustments have been both big and small, affecting every facet of life -- physical, emotional, mental, cultural, spiritual. On a daily basis, the landscape of American life feels uneventfully familiar, yet also trying and taxing. The day-to-day routine is duller. lacking in adventure, and much less colorful (literally and figuratively). Gone are the days when, while walking down just the two blocks of my street, I encounter people of all ages wearing everything from pajamas to cocktail dresses, scooters, cats and dogs, vibrantly colored flowers and plants, and sometimes monitor lizards and other scaly beings. Now all I see are cars and maybe a few people. The buildings and landscape are earth-toned and completely lacking in vibrancy. I'm no longer accustomed to the chillier climate or dressing in layers and wearing any type of footwear other than flip-flops. Now I pay my bills the "old-fashioned" way -- electronically, through my bank account, rather than with cash at the local 7-Eleven. Grocery shopping these days is at once boring and overwhelming and stressful. I've had to re-learn everyday tasks like grocery shopping, driving with different rules and traffic patterns, writing checks, and loading the dishwasher. I've even forgotten certain common English words and expressions, even though we continued to speak English in Thailand.
I also feel much more restricted now, even with a car. I'm so used to being able to just walk, bike, or scoot for a few minutes to get to anywhere -- grocery stores, markets, restaurants, cafes, playground -- that having to drive a car just to get to any of these places now feels tiresome and confining. My son also has felt the loss of freedom he enjoyed in Thailand, where he had more independence, and was able to run off with friends for hours at a time and run of the campus when at school. Now, whenever he wants to go somewhere, he has to depend on us to drive him, and his movements at school are more restricted as well.
The bigger changes are even harder to adjust to. The biggest shift I've had to get used to has been the loss of community after coming back. Here, we live farther away from everyone; our friends are scattered all over the D.C. metro area across D.C., Virginia, and Maryland. To get together, we all have to check our busy schedules and plan weeks ahead. Also, most extended families don't live close to each other and see one another only during holidays, so there's also little to no support from family for many. In Thailand, not only did we have the ready-made support network of our school, but we also lived within a five- or ten-minute walk of most of our close friends. We could just gather spontaneously after work or whenever the mood struck us, right in our own neighborhood, where restaurants and coffee shops abound. Even living in a more Thai neighborhood our second year, we felt enveloped by a community. While out and about, we would meet and strike up conversations with Thai people who were out for a stroll or just socializing with each other, and befriend them. Even though being back home eliminates the cultural and language barriers, it nevertheless feels lonelier and more isolating to be living among people we're supposed to have more in common with than among those we weren't even able to communicate with.
Something else I've really had a hard time adjusting to is the bombardment of expectations and obligations, especially from my family. Almost as soon as we stepped off the plane, we were inundated with questions and advice that implied unspoken expectations that we will return to "real life" now that we've gotten the fun of being abroad out of our systems. Some questions and comments include: Will you be buying another house to settle down in? You're home for good now, right? You need to put down roots for your son. Why would you want to leave again, anyway? Are you doing this or that with your son? You need to get x, y, and z things for your new home. You (meaning me) should be looking into doing a, b, or c for job possibilities.
Many people seem uncomfortable with uncertainty and change, and have been quick to want to put us back into boxes that we were in previously because that was what we were and will be in their minds. When we respond that we're not sure where we will be living or whether we will be going abroad again in three to five years, so we're not going to buy yet another house, or that I'm just going to take a moment to adjust and to see what comes up for me job-wise, people are taken aback. My own mother immediately began to "instruct" me on what I should tell my relatives about our new living and working "situation," as if our choice to live in an apartment rather than a single-family house, and my preference to take my time looking for a job that I actually might be excited about, were shameful actions to be hidden. It is annoying at best and demoralizing at worst, and especially difficult to swallow after two years of having the freedom and space to be myself in all respects, without judgment or criticism. Since returning two short months ago, I've already physically and mentally felt my world and energy contract and stifled again. I feel completely uninspired, as if all the hope, creativity, and imagination I had ever had and felt for the past two years have disappeared forever. While I'm fighting like hell from being stuffed back into these confining and limiting boxes, it is still exhausting and draining to have to spend energy actively ignoring feelings of suffocation and swimming against the current all the time.
The culture of consumption and materialism that we live in is another change I'm trying to get used to. For the past two years, I lived in houses that were already furnished, and we did not buy one single piece of furniture while in Thailand. Everything that we owned could fit into ten plastic containers that traveled to and from Thailand with us. For two years, I did not spend one minute thinking about accumulating material things. Don't get me wrong, consumerism and materialism are alive and well in Thailand, especially with the middle and upper classes. There are more mega-sized, very high-end shopping malls in Bangkok than I've ever seen anywhere else. But because we mostly hung out with expats, we weren't exposed to that as much. The people we hung out with are more our kindred spirits in this respect and with other values. No one spent energy thinking about looking for and acquiring things. And as many of them are nomadic by nature and have never lived in any one place for more than a handful of years in their adult lives (some of them are only 30 years old and have already lived in five or six different countries since graduating from college), they don't tend to accumulate much in terms of possessions. Then we came home. Immediately, the amount of stuff we owned tripled because we had stored some furniture, appliances, and other things with my parents. Seeing the piles in front of me totally overwhelmed me and made me feel weighted down.
After two years with people who mostly focused on having experiences instead of things, it struck me how many people in this country spend so much of their time and energy talking about, researching, and thinking about the things they want to have or how to get more of what they have, working their butts off to make enough money to buy (more of) the things they want to have, and planning for the things they want to have. Bigger homes, nicer cars, shoes, brand-name clothes, electronic devices, accessories for everything in one's life--the list goes on. If you want it, it's out there to be bought and had. And if you already have it, there are always better and bigger things to strive for. So many people are working themselves to death just so they can have nice things and hold onto what nice things they already have. They become slaves to these things. I was never into material possessions as an adult, but after seeing all this focus on material things around me, I realized that a lot of my mental energy used to be spent on that as well because that was what was "normal." I've come to realize that I no longer have tolerance for this aspect of American culture, and I don't want that to be any part of my existence anymore. It's quite freeing, actually -- when I see ads or catalogs for beautiful and shiny new things, I don't feel a twinge of desire. On the other hand, because there's neither a sense of want nor urgency to acquire anything, most of our living room remains an open and empty space, and I have no desire to shop for things that need replacing.
Going hand in hand with the culture of consumerism and materialism is the information overload that exists everywhere I go. Even though I still had access to American news while in Thailand, I could limit my exposure to it and control how much I wanted to know from such a long distance. In addition, I understood so little of what was around me--the television, the radio--that it was easy to ignore. Our lives were simple and quiet compared to our lives here; we truly lived the maxim of "ignorance is bliss." Being back here, I'm constantly being inundated with ads, information, news, opinions, and entertainment. At seemingly every moment, there are different messages battling for my attention; there are so, so many distractions all around. I've been limiting my time on the internet, listening to the radio, reading the news, and being out in public just to stay sane and focused.
The people here also aren't what I've gotten used to anymore. After living in a very relaxed atmosphere among extremely laid-back people for two years, it's hard to get used to all the type-A personalities and uptight people in this area. Add to that those people who are also self-important egomaniacs -- very common in this area, unfortunately -- and you get what feels like a rushed and unfriendly environment.
I've also had a hard time with the narrow-mindedness of the people of this country. Within the first two weeks of returning from Thailand, I heard very derogatory comments about African-Americans, gay people, and other minority groups, from three different individuals -- a relative, an acquaintance, and a stranger! I was floored. I nearly got into a shouting match with the relative who made these comments, and I had to walk away from the acquaintance. But the stranger backed down once she realized we did not see eye-to-eye. And hearing all the discriminatory comments on the news directed at those who believe differently, those with different skin colors, women, and other minority groups makes me sad and angry all at once. It's a disgrace and embarrassment.
In general, I feel as if I've been having an out-of-body experience for the past two months. I see myself going through the motions of re-settling back into life here, but I feel as if I'm watching someone else do it and can't quite wrap my brain around what's happening. I feel numb and detached from my life--in denial. I think one of the reasons we still have packed-up boxes and hardly any furniture is that I still can't quite believe we're home for good. Then there are the times when it feels as if nothing has changed and yet everything has changed--that strange feeling my life here has always been the way it is and that Thailand never actually happened, yet feeling out of place and time at the same time. Sometimes, though, I'm reminded, with a jolt -- as if waking up from a dream--of where I am, and I miss Thailand and our life there so much that it hurts. Mentally and emotionally, I've been all over the place.
At any rate, I don't know that I want to get used to some of the things I mentioned above. I want to remember that things can be different. Nevertheless, I've taken to heart some of the advice about repatriating that I've been given and read (such as here and here), and am taking my time readjusting. The "old" me would've wanted to rush through the process, and get on with life already. But now, I'm being patient and letting myself feel the grief of what I've lost. I'm trying to appreciate what is now in front of me. And I'm allowing myself time to reflect and think. And plan for more adventures in the future, of course. Because there will be more adventures. I'm not even close to being done
Saturday, August 15, 2015
The Endless Summer
Not that I'm complaining, but this summer is getting to be quite long! Because our school in Thailand finished in early June and school here doesn't begin till end of August for my husband and early September for my son, summer will be 11 weeks long and 14 weeks long for each of them, respectively!
This summer has been quite hectic, busy, and chaotic. June was dedicated to wrapping up school, planning for our trips to Hong Kong and other parts of Thailand with our visitors, hosting and traveling, and packing. July was spent moving back to the U.S., apartment and car shopping, completing paperwork for work and school, visiting some friends, and planning our road trip.
We took off for our road trip at the end of July and just returned earlier this week. We went to Chicago for sightseeing and to visit a high-school friend of mine, Michigan to camp along the shores of Lake Superior, and Minnesota to visit friends of ours. It was quite exhausting as we aren't used to driving such long distances and for such long periods of time anymore. But it was good to get away and decompress.
Now we're back in our own state, and just moved into our own place yesterday. The move probably covered a distance of less than 20 miles, but it was much more stressful than our move back from Thailand. In another week or so, my husband will begin working, and summer break will be over. I'm ready to begin to settle down, unpack, and stay put for a while!
This summer has been quite hectic, busy, and chaotic. June was dedicated to wrapping up school, planning for our trips to Hong Kong and other parts of Thailand with our visitors, hosting and traveling, and packing. July was spent moving back to the U.S., apartment and car shopping, completing paperwork for work and school, visiting some friends, and planning our road trip.
We took off for our road trip at the end of July and just returned earlier this week. We went to Chicago for sightseeing and to visit a high-school friend of mine, Michigan to camp along the shores of Lake Superior, and Minnesota to visit friends of ours. It was quite exhausting as we aren't used to driving such long distances and for such long periods of time anymore. But it was good to get away and decompress.
Now we're back in our own state, and just moved into our own place yesterday. The move probably covered a distance of less than 20 miles, but it was much more stressful than our move back from Thailand. In another week or so, my husband will begin working, and summer break will be over. I'm ready to begin to settle down, unpack, and stay put for a while!
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Changes and Adjustments
It's fascinating how quickly one's environment becomes a part of oneself, how quickly we absorb our surroundings and the way of life and thinking around us. After just one week in the U.S., Thailand already felt like a distant memory, a hazy dream. Now, after three weeks, it's almost as if we never left. The people who rode on a scooter with the wind in their hair, traveled to islands and other countries on weekends -- they seem like other people, living other lives.
That's not to say, of course, that we have slipped seamlessly back and that coming back here and re-establishing our lives hasn't been difficult as hell. Our first week back, while staying with my parents, I tried to shield myself from the outside world as much as I could. The only places I went to were the library and the playground. I didn't watch TV, read the newspaper, go through the mail, or expose myself to any kind of media. It made coming back less overwhelming.
But I could only hide for so long. We had apartments to see, cars to test drive, appointments to make. The minute we started this process of repatriation, things got stressful. Quickly. The problem is that no one gives you the benefit of the doubt here; no one gives a crap. No one is watching out for us to make sure everything we need is taken care of, is resolved. There is no human connection; it's all about business.
The other thing is where we have come home to. I've always detested American suburbia. To me, the American suburbs are devoid of personality, soul-less, indistinguishable from one another. Over time, I had gotten used to these types of surroundings, and it helped that we had pretty easy access to all that Washington, D.C., has to offer. However, coming home to the suburbs again after two years abroad, living in a country full of life and character, has only highlighted how mind-numbing the 'burbs can be. Even driving down streets I used to think were picturesque, past houses I used to consider charming, I feel boxed-in and claustrophobic. Everything is just too clean, too sanitized, too quiet. Too organized, too controlled.
It's funny, too, watching the people in this area -- everyone speed walks, purposefully, as if on a mission. Even during the weekend, in the supermarket, out at the playgrounds, everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere. I remember feeling frustrated when I would be stuck behind students walking to class on campus in Thailand. The students would walk slower than snails move, as if they had all the time in the world. Now I wonder what the rush is. Now I'm the one sauntering.
I feel even more weighed down now that we have begun acquiring the material possessions necessary to live here -- cars and furniture among them. I've never been one to accumulate much in the way of material possessions, but now they feel even more limiting and restricting than before. And even though we are lucky beyond belief to have so many of the conveniences, creature comforts, and options that so many in the world don't have, I no longer enjoy them. Instead, I feel these amenities only serve to complicate life and enable me to "participate" passively in life without doing much, making me lazy and complacent.
Of course, coming back has its advantages -- we're much closer to family and friends, we've been able to visit the library almost every day, we've visited the free museums in our area. And I've certainly come to appreciate the level of intellect that exists in this area; the depth, independence, and strength of many American women; and the freedom we have to express our opinions and thoughts, and to disagree with each other and our government. Still, I do feel the stress of daily life here creeping slowly back into mine. If only I could export the best of this country abroad, life would be grand!
That's not to say, of course, that we have slipped seamlessly back and that coming back here and re-establishing our lives hasn't been difficult as hell. Our first week back, while staying with my parents, I tried to shield myself from the outside world as much as I could. The only places I went to were the library and the playground. I didn't watch TV, read the newspaper, go through the mail, or expose myself to any kind of media. It made coming back less overwhelming.
But I could only hide for so long. We had apartments to see, cars to test drive, appointments to make. The minute we started this process of repatriation, things got stressful. Quickly. The problem is that no one gives you the benefit of the doubt here; no one gives a crap. No one is watching out for us to make sure everything we need is taken care of, is resolved. There is no human connection; it's all about business.
The other thing is where we have come home to. I've always detested American suburbia. To me, the American suburbs are devoid of personality, soul-less, indistinguishable from one another. Over time, I had gotten used to these types of surroundings, and it helped that we had pretty easy access to all that Washington, D.C., has to offer. However, coming home to the suburbs again after two years abroad, living in a country full of life and character, has only highlighted how mind-numbing the 'burbs can be. Even driving down streets I used to think were picturesque, past houses I used to consider charming, I feel boxed-in and claustrophobic. Everything is just too clean, too sanitized, too quiet. Too organized, too controlled.
It's funny, too, watching the people in this area -- everyone speed walks, purposefully, as if on a mission. Even during the weekend, in the supermarket, out at the playgrounds, everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere. I remember feeling frustrated when I would be stuck behind students walking to class on campus in Thailand. The students would walk slower than snails move, as if they had all the time in the world. Now I wonder what the rush is. Now I'm the one sauntering.
I feel even more weighed down now that we have begun acquiring the material possessions necessary to live here -- cars and furniture among them. I've never been one to accumulate much in the way of material possessions, but now they feel even more limiting and restricting than before. And even though we are lucky beyond belief to have so many of the conveniences, creature comforts, and options that so many in the world don't have, I no longer enjoy them. Instead, I feel these amenities only serve to complicate life and enable me to "participate" passively in life without doing much, making me lazy and complacent.
Of course, coming back has its advantages -- we're much closer to family and friends, we've been able to visit the library almost every day, we've visited the free museums in our area. And I've certainly come to appreciate the level of intellect that exists in this area; the depth, independence, and strength of many American women; and the freedom we have to express our opinions and thoughts, and to disagree with each other and our government. Still, I do feel the stress of daily life here creeping slowly back into mine. If only I could export the best of this country abroad, life would be grand!
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
One Week in America
I can't believe we've been back for only one week. Thailand already seems so far away and a distant memory, and our life there feels like a dream. It's been a disorienting, confusing, and overwhelming week, trying to understand again how life works here and re-establishing our lives again. Everything has stayed the same, but we haven't. Life here is almost as foreign to us now as life in Thailand once was...
- Even when it's 90 degrees outside, it still feels cool enough to me to put on pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
- When paying for the bill after a meal, my husband forgets and wonders out loud if we need to tip, as if not tipping were an option.
- Everything now seems negotiable, regardless of what we're shopping for.
- Getting use to having and operating voice mail again.
- We miss seeing Asian faces around, even though we are already in a town with a good-sized Asian population, so we go to the local Asian market just to feel at home.
- Our son has been mispronouncing words the way he's heard them pronounced the past two years: "kitchen" is now "kitshen" and "chips" is "ships."
- Forgetting about and getting used to the tedious process of credit and background checks just to rent a place, instead of being able to just show up and sign a lease on the spot.
- Paying for everything with cash.
- Forgetting that we no longer have free access to virtually any book, movie, or music we will ever want.
- It feels too formal and impersonal when people address me by my last name.
- Being unused to hearing European foreign languages instead of Asian ones.
- American food is no longer appetizing, feels overly processed and "fake," and doesn't taste good.
- Feeling closed off from the outside world because the doors and windows of all the houses are always closed, we have to drive to get anywhere and can't just walk or use a scooter, and don't hang our clothes outside to dry.
- Forgetting that we can't just buy minutes at the 7-Eleven to use our cell phones.
- Looking at 7-Eleven stores with fondness instead of indifference.
- Forgetting that many places you need to go to are closed on the weekends.
- Not blinking an eye when my kid runs off out of my line of sight at a public place full of people.
- Everything feels too clean, quiet, and sterile.
- Getting used to seeing so much green in all the trees and grass again.
- Even when it's 90 degrees outside, it still feels cool enough to me to put on pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
- When paying for the bill after a meal, my husband forgets and wonders out loud if we need to tip, as if not tipping were an option.
- Everything now seems negotiable, regardless of what we're shopping for.
- Getting use to having and operating voice mail again.
- We miss seeing Asian faces around, even though we are already in a town with a good-sized Asian population, so we go to the local Asian market just to feel at home.
- Our son has been mispronouncing words the way he's heard them pronounced the past two years: "kitchen" is now "kitshen" and "chips" is "ships."
- Forgetting about and getting used to the tedious process of credit and background checks just to rent a place, instead of being able to just show up and sign a lease on the spot.
- Paying for everything with cash.
- Forgetting that we no longer have free access to virtually any book, movie, or music we will ever want.
- It feels too formal and impersonal when people address me by my last name.
- Being unused to hearing European foreign languages instead of Asian ones.
- American food is no longer appetizing, feels overly processed and "fake," and doesn't taste good.
- Feeling closed off from the outside world because the doors and windows of all the houses are always closed, we have to drive to get anywhere and can't just walk or use a scooter, and don't hang our clothes outside to dry.
- Forgetting that we can't just buy minutes at the 7-Eleven to use our cell phones.
- Looking at 7-Eleven stores with fondness instead of indifference.
- Forgetting that many places you need to go to are closed on the weekends.
- Not blinking an eye when my kid runs off out of my line of sight at a public place full of people.
- Everything feels too clean, quiet, and sterile.
- Getting used to seeing so much green in all the trees and grass again.
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Sh*t, Look at All the Places We Hit!
My last post from Thailand -- a final walk down memory lane to all the places we've visited in our two years here. There are still a million other places we never got to, but I'm happy with how much we got to travel. So long, Thailand. Thanks for the memories. We will never forget our time here!
Thailand
Bangkok
Ayutthaya
Koh Chang
Koh Samui
Kanchanaburi
Erawan National Park
Chiang Mai
Sukhothai
Koh Lanta
Koh Larn
Rayong
Khao Yai National Park (my husband)
Bangkok
Ayutthaya
Koh Chang
Koh Samui
Kanchanaburi
Erawan National Park
Chiang Mai
Sukhothai
Koh Lanta
Koh Larn
Rayong
Khao Yai National Park (my husband)
Malaysia
Kuala Lumpur
Penang (my son and I)
Kuala Lumpur
Penang (my son and I)
Singapore (me)
Vietnam
Ho Chi Min City
Hue
Hoi An
Hanoi
Ho Chi Min City
Hue
Hoi An
Hanoi
Japan
Osaka
Nara
Kyoto
Nagoya
Osaka
Nara
Kyoto
Nagoya
Taiwan
Taipei
Hualien
Taroko Gorge
Sun Moon Lake
Chuang Hua City
Lukang
Toayuan
China
Hualien
Taroko Gorge
Sun Moon Lake
Chuang Hua City
Lukang
Toayuan
China
Hong Kong
Cambodia
Siem Reap
Siem Reap
Indonesia (my husband)
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Friday, July 3, 2015
Living the Island Life One Last Time
Following our trip to Sukhothai, we returned to Chiang Mai for one more day, then came home to regroup for a couple of days before heading out to show our visitors island life as the last leg of their visit. We went to a small island, named Koh Larn, about a 30-minute ferry ride from Pattaya. Unlike beautiful Koh Larn, Pattaya is a seedy city frequented by foreigners for its sex industry and about 1 1/2 hours' drive from us. Just walking through the port area of Pattaya made me feel dirty.
It was on this trip that our visitors got a small taste of what living and traveling in Thailand might be like. First, we had hired a driver -- our morning taxi driver during the school year -- to take us to and from the port of Pattaya for an agreed-upon price. But the day prior to our departure, I received an email from a teacher's aid at our school, who is neighbors with the driver, telling us that the driver's taxi cab had been rear-ended, so a taxi-driver friend of his would drive us instead, and that the friend was asking for more money. It wasn't that much more money than what we had agreed on, but it still didn't sit right with me that we were paying the price of his accident. Nevertheless, it being the day before we were to leave, we agreed to the change in driver and amount of payment.
On the day of our trip, the driver showed up on time to pick us up, but he didn't seem to know where he was going. Due to that and bumper-to-bumper traffic for much of the way, a trip that was to take less than two hours took about three hours instead. By the time we got to Pattaya, it was early afternoon and we were all starving.
Once in Pattaya, we were immediately visually assaulted in every direction by leering men. We tried to ignore it and look for lunch. Unfortunately, walking around, it seemed every restaurant was closed except for a fairly pricey western-style grill. Fortunately, the food was decent, and as it was my husband's birthday, I surprised him with a large piece of the best chocolate cake I have tasted in Thailand.
After lunch, we took the ferry to get to Koh Larn. Once there, we walked to the place where we were staying. The streets there were narrow and crowded with people, animals, tractors, scooters, tuk tuks, and songthaews. It was quite a scene. Our first afternoon there, we took a songthaew to Samae Beach. The songthaew ride was harrowing -- the driver drove at breakneck speed on narrow roads that were steep and windy. We held on for our lives. At Samae Beach, we walked and our kids played in the water. Samae Beach was busy, but fairly scenic with mountains in the distance. There also was a building with a solar-paneled roof shaped like a sting ray.
After a couple of hours there, at around 5:30 p.m., we decided to head back to the hotel. As we were walking towards a songthaew to get on, a group of people got on and took up all the space. So we decided to wait for the next one. Immediately, everyone from the passengers to the songthaew driver began talking in Thai and gesturing. Everyone was insisting that we get on, even though there was not one single space left on the bench in the back of the songthaew. After some confusion, one of the passengers told us in broken English that songthaew was the last one from the beach for the day, and that we HAD TO get on that one. Everyone started shifting and a couple of people got up for all of us to sit with our kids in our laps. Then, once everyone realized we were completely ignorant of the ways of the island, they asked us whether we were staying on the island that night because the last ferry heading to Pattaya was at 6:00 p.m.
We got so lucky that we decided to leave at that time rather than stay longer; otherwise, we would've been stranded at the beach and would've been walking for at least an hour or two on windy, steep roads alongside speeding scooters and cars just to get back to our hotel. We were also lucky that people were nice enough to inform us about what was going on. This experience was the epitome of living and traveling in Thailand, and of our experiences with the Thai people -- you're never completely certain of what is going on, no information is ever communicated to visitors to inform them of any kind of schedule, and you just have roll with the punches or you'd go insane, but people will help you out once they realize you're a clueless farang.
We finally returned to our hotel for a shower and dinner. The shower in our friend's room had no hot water, so we reported it to the concierge. Of course, when they went to check it out, hot water came out. Later, when she decided to shower, there was again no hot water. The way our day was going, we were neither surprised nor upset about the shower.
Dinner that night was a disaster. We chose a restaurant recommended by someone at the hotel. At first glance, it seemed like a cute place with an amazing water view. But that was the only good thing about the restaurant; nothing else seemed to go right. We waited forever for our food to arrive; the waitstaff made mistakes on our order; all the lights at the restaurant kept going on and off; and our friend's and her son's dishes were super spicy despite instructions to add no spice, so dinner was torture for them.
As if that weren't enough already, the power went out at our hotel that night. It wouldn't have been a big deal except it was hot and muggy without the air conditioner. My husband spoke to someone at the hotel who spoke English who told him that it was probably caused by some work being done on the cables in town. After about half an hour, I was about to wake up my son to go outside for some fresh air when the power returned. Phew.
The misadventures continued at breakfast the next morning. When I booked our rooms, I had made sure that breakfast was included, but when we ordered breakfast for our kids, we were told by the Thai staff that they weren't included and that they could only get a small box of cornflakes and milk each. I was quite annoyed by this information as there was no indication that the kids wouldn't get breakfast on the hotel website or the booking website. We three adults ordered breakfast and had to give the kids some of our food to supplement. Luckily, as we were heading out for the day, we ran into the Australian proprietor of the place. He asked us how breakfast was, and we told him what had happened. He told us the kids were entitled to a full breakfast like everyone else, and the problem was resolved for the next morning.
The rest of our second day there went well, fortunately. We hit another beach called Tien Beach after another harrowing songthaew ride. Getting to the beach area was a bit of an adventure itself with rocky terrain and a walk above the rocky shores, but the beach was gorgeous with pristine water. It also was a quieter beach with fewer people, though there were quite a few speed boats and other boat tours. We rented umbrellas and beach chairs at 50 baht per person for the entire day, parked ourselves under the umbrellas, enjoyed the temperate water and the view, ordered delicious food delivered to us for lunch, drank delicious cocktails, and had a relaxing and wonderful day at the beach. It was just what we needed.
The next morning, we all had a full breakfast, got on the ferry to go back to the port of Pattaya, and our driver picked us up, all without incident. The drive back took only an hour and 20 minutes as there was no traffic whatsoever. All's well that ends well!
The view from Pattaya's pier:
On the way to Koh Larn: A beautiful house on its own island, and views of Koh Larn from our ferry.
At Koh Larn: Colorful buildings near where we stayed, a wedding being set up at the parking lot where the songthaews usually park and pick up passengers, the view at the horrible restaurant where we ate the first night, and a menu item at another restaurant.
At our hotel:
At Samae Beach: Building with sting ray-shaped, solar-panel roof, a floating pier, a colorful shack, and the colorful rocks at the beach.
At Tien Beach. The third picture is of my husband's foot. He stepped on a sea urchin, and a woman who was referred to as a "doctor" came over with a stone and pounded on the wound site to break up the spine that had gone into the skin.
It was on this trip that our visitors got a small taste of what living and traveling in Thailand might be like. First, we had hired a driver -- our morning taxi driver during the school year -- to take us to and from the port of Pattaya for an agreed-upon price. But the day prior to our departure, I received an email from a teacher's aid at our school, who is neighbors with the driver, telling us that the driver's taxi cab had been rear-ended, so a taxi-driver friend of his would drive us instead, and that the friend was asking for more money. It wasn't that much more money than what we had agreed on, but it still didn't sit right with me that we were paying the price of his accident. Nevertheless, it being the day before we were to leave, we agreed to the change in driver and amount of payment.
On the day of our trip, the driver showed up on time to pick us up, but he didn't seem to know where he was going. Due to that and bumper-to-bumper traffic for much of the way, a trip that was to take less than two hours took about three hours instead. By the time we got to Pattaya, it was early afternoon and we were all starving.
Once in Pattaya, we were immediately visually assaulted in every direction by leering men. We tried to ignore it and look for lunch. Unfortunately, walking around, it seemed every restaurant was closed except for a fairly pricey western-style grill. Fortunately, the food was decent, and as it was my husband's birthday, I surprised him with a large piece of the best chocolate cake I have tasted in Thailand.
After lunch, we took the ferry to get to Koh Larn. Once there, we walked to the place where we were staying. The streets there were narrow and crowded with people, animals, tractors, scooters, tuk tuks, and songthaews. It was quite a scene. Our first afternoon there, we took a songthaew to Samae Beach. The songthaew ride was harrowing -- the driver drove at breakneck speed on narrow roads that were steep and windy. We held on for our lives. At Samae Beach, we walked and our kids played in the water. Samae Beach was busy, but fairly scenic with mountains in the distance. There also was a building with a solar-paneled roof shaped like a sting ray.
After a couple of hours there, at around 5:30 p.m., we decided to head back to the hotel. As we were walking towards a songthaew to get on, a group of people got on and took up all the space. So we decided to wait for the next one. Immediately, everyone from the passengers to the songthaew driver began talking in Thai and gesturing. Everyone was insisting that we get on, even though there was not one single space left on the bench in the back of the songthaew. After some confusion, one of the passengers told us in broken English that songthaew was the last one from the beach for the day, and that we HAD TO get on that one. Everyone started shifting and a couple of people got up for all of us to sit with our kids in our laps. Then, once everyone realized we were completely ignorant of the ways of the island, they asked us whether we were staying on the island that night because the last ferry heading to Pattaya was at 6:00 p.m.
We got so lucky that we decided to leave at that time rather than stay longer; otherwise, we would've been stranded at the beach and would've been walking for at least an hour or two on windy, steep roads alongside speeding scooters and cars just to get back to our hotel. We were also lucky that people were nice enough to inform us about what was going on. This experience was the epitome of living and traveling in Thailand, and of our experiences with the Thai people -- you're never completely certain of what is going on, no information is ever communicated to visitors to inform them of any kind of schedule, and you just have roll with the punches or you'd go insane, but people will help you out once they realize you're a clueless farang.
We finally returned to our hotel for a shower and dinner. The shower in our friend's room had no hot water, so we reported it to the concierge. Of course, when they went to check it out, hot water came out. Later, when she decided to shower, there was again no hot water. The way our day was going, we were neither surprised nor upset about the shower.
Dinner that night was a disaster. We chose a restaurant recommended by someone at the hotel. At first glance, it seemed like a cute place with an amazing water view. But that was the only good thing about the restaurant; nothing else seemed to go right. We waited forever for our food to arrive; the waitstaff made mistakes on our order; all the lights at the restaurant kept going on and off; and our friend's and her son's dishes were super spicy despite instructions to add no spice, so dinner was torture for them.
As if that weren't enough already, the power went out at our hotel that night. It wouldn't have been a big deal except it was hot and muggy without the air conditioner. My husband spoke to someone at the hotel who spoke English who told him that it was probably caused by some work being done on the cables in town. After about half an hour, I was about to wake up my son to go outside for some fresh air when the power returned. Phew.
The misadventures continued at breakfast the next morning. When I booked our rooms, I had made sure that breakfast was included, but when we ordered breakfast for our kids, we were told by the Thai staff that they weren't included and that they could only get a small box of cornflakes and milk each. I was quite annoyed by this information as there was no indication that the kids wouldn't get breakfast on the hotel website or the booking website. We three adults ordered breakfast and had to give the kids some of our food to supplement. Luckily, as we were heading out for the day, we ran into the Australian proprietor of the place. He asked us how breakfast was, and we told him what had happened. He told us the kids were entitled to a full breakfast like everyone else, and the problem was resolved for the next morning.
The rest of our second day there went well, fortunately. We hit another beach called Tien Beach after another harrowing songthaew ride. Getting to the beach area was a bit of an adventure itself with rocky terrain and a walk above the rocky shores, but the beach was gorgeous with pristine water. It also was a quieter beach with fewer people, though there were quite a few speed boats and other boat tours. We rented umbrellas and beach chairs at 50 baht per person for the entire day, parked ourselves under the umbrellas, enjoyed the temperate water and the view, ordered delicious food delivered to us for lunch, drank delicious cocktails, and had a relaxing and wonderful day at the beach. It was just what we needed.
The next morning, we all had a full breakfast, got on the ferry to go back to the port of Pattaya, and our driver picked us up, all without incident. The drive back took only an hour and 20 minutes as there was no traffic whatsoever. All's well that ends well!
The view from Pattaya's pier:
On the way to Koh Larn: A beautiful house on its own island, and views of Koh Larn from our ferry.
At Koh Larn: Colorful buildings near where we stayed, a wedding being set up at the parking lot where the songthaews usually park and pick up passengers, the view at the horrible restaurant where we ate the first night, and a menu item at another restaurant.
At our hotel:
At Samae Beach: Building with sting ray-shaped, solar-panel roof, a floating pier, a colorful shack, and the colorful rocks at the beach.
At Tien Beach. The third picture is of my husband's foot. He stepped on a sea urchin, and a woman who was referred to as a "doctor" came over with a stone and pounded on the wound site to break up the spine that had gone into the skin.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Northern Thailand: Sukhothai
In the middle of our trip to Chiang Mai, we also made a quick trip to Sukhothai via a five-hour bus ride. We had planned on staying there for two full days, but because there isn't much to do in the city outside of the ruins, we left a day early and returned to Chiang Mai.
Sukhothai was an early kingdom that existed from the 1200s to the 1400s. Its capital, the ruins that we visited, has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Instead of biking through the historical park, as originally planned, we hired a tuk tuk for the day to take us to all the sites of the ruins. It turned out to be a good plan as the ruins were fairly spread out. The ruins were in a number of different zones, and each zone required purchase of tickets. However, the two kids were free, and each of the three zones cost only 100 baht for adults.
The ruins were magnificent. I enjoyed these ruins even more than those in Ayutthaya: Not only was the main site in Sukhothai grander and more majestic than the main one in Ayutthaya, but Sukhothai was also practically free of visitors and tourists, making everywhere we went peaceful, quiet, and meditative. While the adults walked and reflected in silence among the ruins, our boys ran around and explored on their own, using their imagination and creativity to make up games and stories as they used the ruins as forts, hideouts, and whatever their imagination allowed. We all enjoyed ourselves immensely and are so glad we made it to this beautiful place before our departure.
Sukhothai was an early kingdom that existed from the 1200s to the 1400s. Its capital, the ruins that we visited, has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Instead of biking through the historical park, as originally planned, we hired a tuk tuk for the day to take us to all the sites of the ruins. It turned out to be a good plan as the ruins were fairly spread out. The ruins were in a number of different zones, and each zone required purchase of tickets. However, the two kids were free, and each of the three zones cost only 100 baht for adults.
The ruins were magnificent. I enjoyed these ruins even more than those in Ayutthaya: Not only was the main site in Sukhothai grander and more majestic than the main one in Ayutthaya, but Sukhothai was also practically free of visitors and tourists, making everywhere we went peaceful, quiet, and meditative. While the adults walked and reflected in silence among the ruins, our boys ran around and explored on their own, using their imagination and creativity to make up games and stories as they used the ruins as forts, hideouts, and whatever their imagination allowed. We all enjoyed ourselves immensely and are so glad we made it to this beautiful place before our departure.
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