Life in Yasothon is moving along, as life always does. There have been good and bad times, but I can effectively say that everything here is now normal to me. Christmas and the New Year came and went without much of a fuss, that which proves to me that it is easy to avoid homesickness during these times if you just think about a holiday as any other day of the year... Score one for apathy!
As far as farewells go, there have been a couple this month. I had to say goodbye to Jana, a farang friend who worked as an assistant teacher here at Yasothon Pittayakom School. She is off to travel independently for a month, and then she will be reunited with her family in Germany! So we went to "Coffee Bar," the cutesy cafe near her house (where the owner speaks English with a real English accent! She lived in the UK for a while) with all five of us (Me, Silvia, Jana, Marine, and Natasha), to wish her good luck in the next few months and have a last little moment together.
I've also had to say farewell to somebody else. I am going to be really mysterious and annoying here and tell you much, but it was a necessary goodbye for me, and I know that it will be for the better. I don't have regrets, and my life continues moving as always-- trudging forward, through the bad and the good, not necessarily with a specific goal besides trying to find some peace of mind, clarity, and happiness in this life. As of now, I think I have found that. I am finally happy with myself.
On another note, did you know that they eat more French Fries in Belgium than in France?! That's a mind-blowing realization, folks. The two Belgian girls here are making this Thai exchange far from normal and predictable, and I have been consuming lots of French Fries and waffles. Who would have thought that I would come to Thailand and speak primarily French with my farang friends? I am certainly not complaining... my French skills are returning, and I am even hoping to mix my slight American accent with a Belgian one so as to confuse the heck out of my French host family when I talk to them next. But aside from that, I can safely assume that there will be even more French Fries in the future... for a Belgian boy named Maxime will be joining us here in Yasothon at the end of January. I am certainly excited. More French Fries, and more French speaking...
But don't worry, my Thai isn't left by the way-side with this crazy mix of languages. I have been improving pretty steadily, and I can hold simple conversations with just about anybody, as long as they don't start to speak to me in the North Eastern dialect. Hmmm.
I am not sure if AFS would approve of my situation here, consistently having five farang at one school-- but as much as my exchange is not necessarily conventional, I can proudly say that I am happy as it is, and I wouldn't want to change it. In all truthfulness, I am not an "exchange purist." I think that you should make your exchange into what you want it to be in order to make yourself happy, so long as you still make an effort to connect with the people of your host country as well. And that I do...
The last thing I want to mention is that I made a (really crappy) video!
Watch it!
Woohoo!
It may not be the most accurate portrayal of daily life, but it will show you some of the interesting stuff I have been up to... and put a picture to some of the places I mentioned in my last blog post!
-Carly
The link is not herrrr... but here I will try again:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrfVanx-P5M
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Saturday, December 1, 2012
A Meditation on the Rainy Season
~It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times~
For the last couple of years, I have been obsessed with the literary merit of the four elements. The easiest for me to comprehend was always water, a motif that represents not only sadness and gloom but also rebirth and purification, a symbol that truly portrays the beauty of the human condition, the inability of anything to be entirely good or evil, dark or light, etc. And since I really believe that art mimics life, which in turn mimics art, I thought that I would take a gander at attempting to look at the first third of my exchange through the various torrential downpours that graced life here in Yasothon and during my travels in this time.
I love rain, and I can recall how it lifted my spirits during my first bleak month here in Thailand. I was going through extreme culture shock and I closed myself off from the world, which led me to be as unhappy at school as I was at home. Nonetheless, as soon as water started to pour down from the heavens at school, I would immediately step outside into the covered corridor and observe as everything around me was given new life. For some, rain is a punishment, but for me, it is a gift and also a harbinger of what is to come.
Fittingly, the dark Sunday afternoon that sealed my fate to change families was also met by rain. I remember clearly having a tense conversation with my host mother in her white four-door car under the tall, pitched tin roof of a parking garage before we went to buy food for the night. When we exited the car, the rain had picked up its pace and was filling the streets more and more with every second we wasted trying to determine what route we were going to take in order to get to the supermarket. I can acutely recall the sound of the storm pounding down on the top of the parking—I had the peculiar sensation that the rain was screaming at me, its sound amplified thousands of times by the thin corrugated metal rooftop on which it was quickly hammering down upon. Later that night, we came to the mutual conclusion that I should change families.
When my advisor and coordinator picked me up to take me to my new hosts, I was once again greeted by the familiar windshield wipers and sound of water splashing under the tires of Ajaan Niwat’s car while nineties pop music played in the background. At that moment, even through the horrendous backstreet boys’ song that made its way to my brain through the reluctance of my eardrums, I felt like I was finally being cleansed. Cleansed of all of my mistakes for the previous month, and given a chance to start over completely new. I hugged my old host mother goodbye, and said hello to a new life.
Since then, there has been rain on several more occasions, each bringing with it a sense of purpose and a reason that I always try to uncover. One week, there were several truly prolific thunder and lightning storms during the middle of the night, and the first night, a loud clap of thunder forced me to sit upright in bed and look around at my dark surroundings. The flashes of lightning were diffused through the window shades, and I eagerly got up to look outside. Rain dove to the ground at a skewed angle because of the wind, and the boughs of trees blew every which way. Lightning was coming from not one, but several different clouds over Yasothon, and I thought back to our initial flight to Bangkok, in which we circled around about fifteen times in order to avoid an intense thunderstorm brewing just below and in front of the airplane. The thunder made the house tremble, and I wondered what it would be like to be out there right now, with what honestly seemed like the apocalypse taking its toll on the outside world. When I was younger, a scene like this would have utterly terrified me, but the strongest emotion that I felt this time was sheer fascination at the destruction and creation that the rain was catalyzing. Two nights later, I again bolted awake when a shock of thunder shook the entire house, but the storm itself was less interesting.
The funny thing about storms like that is that they contain both water and fire. There is something so special about rain and lightning coexisting at the same time. It creates an odd mental image to think of fire in the midst of rain, but maybe it is just another one of the miraculous occurrences of this life.
In October, the rainy season died down in the Northeast of Thailand, but we had the luck to have a long school vacation during this time, and we, the Yasothon exchange students paired with several others from around the country, headed off to Chiang Mai in the North to a meditation for ten days. I don’t know if it was the meditation, or just the way that the rain glistened on the tin rooftops of the temple dormitories, but I have never felt so present during a rainstorm than the rainstorms of Wat Rampoeng. In the midst of walking meditation, it started to rain. Luckily, I was under a covered area, and I slowly approached the railing of the second story. Rained rushed off the roof and plummeted down to the ground below, and I could not prevent myself from breaking the repetitive lifting-putting pattern and letting my hand reach out to touch the sparkling drops. At that moment, I really felt alive.
Fast forward three weeks, and I was off to a YES Abroad community service project in the (very) South of Thailand. Now, at this point the Isaan had returned to cloudless skies, and for the past week at home, I was fairly depressed without my daily dose of the water cycle, and a trip to the South sounded perfect. When we finally arrived on the minuscule island off of the bordering province to Malaysia (Satun), all of us were struck with the idea that this may well be heaven on Earth. No amount of words will do the landscape of mountains, rocks, sand, and sun any justice, suffice it to say that it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. In the South, there is no “winter” season, or so I have heard—the rainy season continues until the end of October and even into November. This proved to be very accurate, as our time on Koh Lipe was met with several torrential downpours.
Being on Island Lipe was like being born again. During the most reverent of the storms, I went fully clothed (maxi-dress and all) into the 90-degree ocean while the rain was still pounding down on the choppy waters. Above the mountain on the island next to us, several clouds had convened at the perfect angle to form a halo of lightning just over the summit. This metaphorical baptism in the bath waters of the tropics was a bit of an awakening for me, as was my entire month of semi-independence and freedom.
As of now, the rain has stopped. Occasionally I am awoken at night by the pitter patter of rain on the windowsill or a loud clap of thunder, the nightly visits verified as real in the morning when I find that my school shoes are soaked entirely through, and I have to wear flip-flops to my classes. But for the most part, life goes on. These four months (almost five) have been life changing, spectacular, morose, awe inducing, and transformational, and I think that most every person in Thailand with me would agree. Now it is December first, officially “winter,” and I will just have to wait and see how the rest of my time here in Thailand will continue to mold me into a new person.
For the last couple of years, I have been obsessed with the literary merit of the four elements. The easiest for me to comprehend was always water, a motif that represents not only sadness and gloom but also rebirth and purification, a symbol that truly portrays the beauty of the human condition, the inability of anything to be entirely good or evil, dark or light, etc. And since I really believe that art mimics life, which in turn mimics art, I thought that I would take a gander at attempting to look at the first third of my exchange through the various torrential downpours that graced life here in Yasothon and during my travels in this time.
I love rain, and I can recall how it lifted my spirits during my first bleak month here in Thailand. I was going through extreme culture shock and I closed myself off from the world, which led me to be as unhappy at school as I was at home. Nonetheless, as soon as water started to pour down from the heavens at school, I would immediately step outside into the covered corridor and observe as everything around me was given new life. For some, rain is a punishment, but for me, it is a gift and also a harbinger of what is to come.
Fittingly, the dark Sunday afternoon that sealed my fate to change families was also met by rain. I remember clearly having a tense conversation with my host mother in her white four-door car under the tall, pitched tin roof of a parking garage before we went to buy food for the night. When we exited the car, the rain had picked up its pace and was filling the streets more and more with every second we wasted trying to determine what route we were going to take in order to get to the supermarket. I can acutely recall the sound of the storm pounding down on the top of the parking—I had the peculiar sensation that the rain was screaming at me, its sound amplified thousands of times by the thin corrugated metal rooftop on which it was quickly hammering down upon. Later that night, we came to the mutual conclusion that I should change families.
When my advisor and coordinator picked me up to take me to my new hosts, I was once again greeted by the familiar windshield wipers and sound of water splashing under the tires of Ajaan Niwat’s car while nineties pop music played in the background. At that moment, even through the horrendous backstreet boys’ song that made its way to my brain through the reluctance of my eardrums, I felt like I was finally being cleansed. Cleansed of all of my mistakes for the previous month, and given a chance to start over completely new. I hugged my old host mother goodbye, and said hello to a new life.
Since then, there has been rain on several more occasions, each bringing with it a sense of purpose and a reason that I always try to uncover. One week, there were several truly prolific thunder and lightning storms during the middle of the night, and the first night, a loud clap of thunder forced me to sit upright in bed and look around at my dark surroundings. The flashes of lightning were diffused through the window shades, and I eagerly got up to look outside. Rain dove to the ground at a skewed angle because of the wind, and the boughs of trees blew every which way. Lightning was coming from not one, but several different clouds over Yasothon, and I thought back to our initial flight to Bangkok, in which we circled around about fifteen times in order to avoid an intense thunderstorm brewing just below and in front of the airplane. The thunder made the house tremble, and I wondered what it would be like to be out there right now, with what honestly seemed like the apocalypse taking its toll on the outside world. When I was younger, a scene like this would have utterly terrified me, but the strongest emotion that I felt this time was sheer fascination at the destruction and creation that the rain was catalyzing. Two nights later, I again bolted awake when a shock of thunder shook the entire house, but the storm itself was less interesting.
The funny thing about storms like that is that they contain both water and fire. There is something so special about rain and lightning coexisting at the same time. It creates an odd mental image to think of fire in the midst of rain, but maybe it is just another one of the miraculous occurrences of this life.
In October, the rainy season died down in the Northeast of Thailand, but we had the luck to have a long school vacation during this time, and we, the Yasothon exchange students paired with several others from around the country, headed off to Chiang Mai in the North to a meditation for ten days. I don’t know if it was the meditation, or just the way that the rain glistened on the tin rooftops of the temple dormitories, but I have never felt so present during a rainstorm than the rainstorms of Wat Rampoeng. In the midst of walking meditation, it started to rain. Luckily, I was under a covered area, and I slowly approached the railing of the second story. Rained rushed off the roof and plummeted down to the ground below, and I could not prevent myself from breaking the repetitive lifting-putting pattern and letting my hand reach out to touch the sparkling drops. At that moment, I really felt alive.
Fast forward three weeks, and I was off to a YES Abroad community service project in the (very) South of Thailand. Now, at this point the Isaan had returned to cloudless skies, and for the past week at home, I was fairly depressed without my daily dose of the water cycle, and a trip to the South sounded perfect. When we finally arrived on the minuscule island off of the bordering province to Malaysia (Satun), all of us were struck with the idea that this may well be heaven on Earth. No amount of words will do the landscape of mountains, rocks, sand, and sun any justice, suffice it to say that it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. In the South, there is no “winter” season, or so I have heard—the rainy season continues until the end of October and even into November. This proved to be very accurate, as our time on Koh Lipe was met with several torrential downpours.
Being on Island Lipe was like being born again. During the most reverent of the storms, I went fully clothed (maxi-dress and all) into the 90-degree ocean while the rain was still pounding down on the choppy waters. Above the mountain on the island next to us, several clouds had convened at the perfect angle to form a halo of lightning just over the summit. This metaphorical baptism in the bath waters of the tropics was a bit of an awakening for me, as was my entire month of semi-independence and freedom.
As of now, the rain has stopped. Occasionally I am awoken at night by the pitter patter of rain on the windowsill or a loud clap of thunder, the nightly visits verified as real in the morning when I find that my school shoes are soaked entirely through, and I have to wear flip-flops to my classes. But for the most part, life goes on. These four months (almost five) have been life changing, spectacular, morose, awe inducing, and transformational, and I think that most every person in Thailand with me would agree. Now it is December first, officially “winter,” and I will just have to wait and see how the rest of my time here in Thailand will continue to mold me into a new person.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Monthly Report Numero 3
Last Friday, in the midst of international tragedies involving western and Muslim nations, I sat on the ground of the house of one of the few Muslim families in Yasothon, sipping coffee nonchalantly, eating peanut-buttered bread, and having an experience that I will remember for a lifetime.
I was fortunate enough to meet an amazing American teacher from New York at my old host school. She has been in Thailand for about two years, and she really opened up my eyes to the beauty of Thai culture from the very beginning. Being able to talk to a person who can understand both the Thai and American perspective was honestly an amazing opportunity for me to learn, and for the first month that I was in Thailand, I frequented the English room at Yasothon Pittayasan School and talked to her about various aspects of Thailand that would go unnoticed to an untrained eye.
During that time, she also mentioned that there are a few people who I might want to meet in Yasothon. Although there are only about forty thousand people here, the city is host to several foreigners and interesting characters, including a ladyboy troupe, a Thai-American who runs an English school (And incidentally doesn't speak Thai), two Mormon missionaries, four exchange students, and at least one Australian ex-pat with a Thai wife who spends half of his time in Australia and half of his time here. So, surprisingly, Yasothon is a fairly diverse place (Within the province of Yasothon there are also two Peace Corps volunteers, one of whom I had the great chance to meet!).
Among some of the other people Teacher Malee recommended that I meet, she also mentioned that Yasothon had a small Christian and Muslim demographic as well, although most people practice Buddhism. When she said that her Muslim friends loved foreigners and would be thrilled to meet me, I gladly accepted the opportunity.
Initially, I planned on going to a Ramadan celebration with them, however, I was swept off to a bordering province on that day by the teacher volleyball team, and thus missed the event. I was a little disappointed, and in a few weeks, I had already changed host families, and the prospects of anything happening grew smaller, until I got a call from Teacher Malee last Thursday, saying that the offer was still standing to meet them.
We arrived at their home at about seven, and were warmly greeted by Mohammed at the door. Dressed in all white clothing, he urged us to come in. The house was beautiful-- the design was much different than Thai style, and I later learned that Mohammed studied architecture in school.We took a seat on the floor in the living room, and he brought us out coffee (Made with milk! This is very uncommon in Thailand), and introduced us to his wife, Fatima. I introduced myself and they told me about how their daughter studied abroad in Buffalo, New York, several years before.
They both struck me as wonderfully sincere, and I had the strange sensation that I was not in Thailand anymore. Of course, they didn't look very Thai, for the first Muslim who came to Yasothon was Pakistani, according to Teacher Malee, but it was more a cultural impression that I was feeling. I first stayed with a Thai family, and now I am with a Chinese one, and the culture from one family to the next changed a lot, but both seem "very Thai" to me. Of course Mohammed and Fatima spoke perfect Thai and had lived there for their whole lives, but something seemed different, and it was a good different.
As we carried on conversing with each other and eating our American snack, I realized how lucky I was to be able to see this flourishing subculture within my small town. The experience majorly underlined the fact that even in a place like Yasothon, I have the opportunity to learn about so many different people, from so many different backgrounds, even if, for the most part, everybody looks similar to me.
Buddhism teaches that you should respect all other religions and races, and I see that every day in Thailand. There is a Mormon Church on my street, a teacher from my old school who had monthly prayer sessions with the small Christian demographic there, spirit houses on every stretch of road, and three girls at my school who wear a hijab every day. I can only wish that one day the United States will be able to coexist like this. It doesn't matter whether you are the majority or the minority-- every belief deserves respect. Teacher Malee relayed to me on Friday a quote that Fatima had told her: "The world is God's garden, and it would be an ugly garden if all the flowers looked the same." Here, I am seeing rainbows.
I was fortunate enough to meet an amazing American teacher from New York at my old host school. She has been in Thailand for about two years, and she really opened up my eyes to the beauty of Thai culture from the very beginning. Being able to talk to a person who can understand both the Thai and American perspective was honestly an amazing opportunity for me to learn, and for the first month that I was in Thailand, I frequented the English room at Yasothon Pittayasan School and talked to her about various aspects of Thailand that would go unnoticed to an untrained eye.
During that time, she also mentioned that there are a few people who I might want to meet in Yasothon. Although there are only about forty thousand people here, the city is host to several foreigners and interesting characters, including a ladyboy troupe, a Thai-American who runs an English school (And incidentally doesn't speak Thai), two Mormon missionaries, four exchange students, and at least one Australian ex-pat with a Thai wife who spends half of his time in Australia and half of his time here. So, surprisingly, Yasothon is a fairly diverse place (Within the province of Yasothon there are also two Peace Corps volunteers, one of whom I had the great chance to meet!).
Among some of the other people Teacher Malee recommended that I meet, she also mentioned that Yasothon had a small Christian and Muslim demographic as well, although most people practice Buddhism. When she said that her Muslim friends loved foreigners and would be thrilled to meet me, I gladly accepted the opportunity.
Initially, I planned on going to a Ramadan celebration with them, however, I was swept off to a bordering province on that day by the teacher volleyball team, and thus missed the event. I was a little disappointed, and in a few weeks, I had already changed host families, and the prospects of anything happening grew smaller, until I got a call from Teacher Malee last Thursday, saying that the offer was still standing to meet them.
We arrived at their home at about seven, and were warmly greeted by Mohammed at the door. Dressed in all white clothing, he urged us to come in. The house was beautiful-- the design was much different than Thai style, and I later learned that Mohammed studied architecture in school.We took a seat on the floor in the living room, and he brought us out coffee (Made with milk! This is very uncommon in Thailand), and introduced us to his wife, Fatima. I introduced myself and they told me about how their daughter studied abroad in Buffalo, New York, several years before.
They both struck me as wonderfully sincere, and I had the strange sensation that I was not in Thailand anymore. Of course, they didn't look very Thai, for the first Muslim who came to Yasothon was Pakistani, according to Teacher Malee, but it was more a cultural impression that I was feeling. I first stayed with a Thai family, and now I am with a Chinese one, and the culture from one family to the next changed a lot, but both seem "very Thai" to me. Of course Mohammed and Fatima spoke perfect Thai and had lived there for their whole lives, but something seemed different, and it was a good different.
As we carried on conversing with each other and eating our American snack, I realized how lucky I was to be able to see this flourishing subculture within my small town. The experience majorly underlined the fact that even in a place like Yasothon, I have the opportunity to learn about so many different people, from so many different backgrounds, even if, for the most part, everybody looks similar to me.
Buddhism teaches that you should respect all other religions and races, and I see that every day in Thailand. There is a Mormon Church on my street, a teacher from my old school who had monthly prayer sessions with the small Christian demographic there, spirit houses on every stretch of road, and three girls at my school who wear a hijab every day. I can only wish that one day the United States will be able to coexist like this. It doesn't matter whether you are the majority or the minority-- every belief deserves respect. Teacher Malee relayed to me on Friday a quote that Fatima had told her: "The world is God's garden, and it would be an ugly garden if all the flowers looked the same." Here, I am seeing rainbows.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Brief Update
This week has been great. This time, I have decided to stray from the philosophical and just point out the obvious in my life, because it may not be so obvious to you.
In the last week I have:
-Started and finished reading the book "Slam" by Nick Hornby (Really not that much of an accomplishment in terms of reading speed... It's written very simply. Ha ha.), I enjoyed it.
-Eaten Som Tum with my classmates from school and the other three exchange students in Yasothon. Woohoo!
-Had coffee with the American teacher who works at my old host school (Realizing now that I never stated that I switched host families... oups. I switched host families. There. It was a month and a half ago, and I now attend Yasothon Pittayakom School. We have a website.) and her really good friends, who happen to be Muslim-- more about this later. Simply put, amazing experience.
-Achieved no scholastic feats. What's new?
-Did have a Thai dance class, and an (out-of-focus) video to prove it! One day I will upload photos to Facebook, one day.
-Host sister's birthday is tomorrow! Hooray! I drew her something and got her a little gifty. I hope she will like it. I told her that I wanted her to wake me up at four to go give offerings to the monks, but at this point in time that doesn't sound like such a sweet dealio... Don't judge me, just because I am in Thailand, doesn't mean I don't need my beauty sleep! ;)
-Will go to Amnat Charoen (Province to the South-East of Yasothon) to renew my visa tomorrow. Let's hope that there are no problems!!
Lately, I have been quickly jotting down sociological observations, and I would like to blog about a lot of things this year, including stuff about: Boy-Girl relationships, food culture, indirect communication, and respect. But those will have to wait until a little bit later.
At the moment I am watching Soul Train video clips on Youtube, and feeling some weird sort of nostalgia for a period of time in which I did not live. Perhaps they're rememories (Beloved reference). Obviously, this is a better and much more constructive use of my time than journaling about really profound and semi-controversial aspects of Thai culture. Obviously.
Things are chugging along quite nicely, though, and I hope to get back to you soon with another post. It will be really soon-- my monthly report will make a good entry, and it is due on the 15th of September.
Ahem.
Thai Time.
-Carly
Okay, I know keeping the philosophical on the D.L., but I couldn't help but notice today that I have an odd Thai vocabulary-- I know the word for tomorrow, but not yesterday, and for after, but not before. Might that say something about my personality? Haha.
Bye!
In the last week I have:
-Started and finished reading the book "Slam" by Nick Hornby (Really not that much of an accomplishment in terms of reading speed... It's written very simply. Ha ha.), I enjoyed it.
-Eaten Som Tum with my classmates from school and the other three exchange students in Yasothon. Woohoo!
-Had coffee with the American teacher who works at my old host school (Realizing now that I never stated that I switched host families... oups. I switched host families. There. It was a month and a half ago, and I now attend Yasothon Pittayakom School. We have a website.) and her really good friends, who happen to be Muslim-- more about this later. Simply put, amazing experience.
-Achieved no scholastic feats. What's new?
-Did have a Thai dance class, and an (out-of-focus) video to prove it! One day I will upload photos to Facebook, one day.
-Host sister's birthday is tomorrow! Hooray! I drew her something and got her a little gifty. I hope she will like it. I told her that I wanted her to wake me up at four to go give offerings to the monks, but at this point in time that doesn't sound like such a sweet dealio... Don't judge me, just because I am in Thailand, doesn't mean I don't need my beauty sleep! ;)
-Will go to Amnat Charoen (Province to the South-East of Yasothon) to renew my visa tomorrow. Let's hope that there are no problems!!
Lately, I have been quickly jotting down sociological observations, and I would like to blog about a lot of things this year, including stuff about: Boy-Girl relationships, food culture, indirect communication, and respect. But those will have to wait until a little bit later.
At the moment I am watching Soul Train video clips on Youtube, and feeling some weird sort of nostalgia for a period of time in which I did not live. Perhaps they're rememories (Beloved reference). Obviously, this is a better and much more constructive use of my time than journaling about really profound and semi-controversial aspects of Thai culture. Obviously.
Things are chugging along quite nicely, though, and I hope to get back to you soon with another post. It will be really soon-- my monthly report will make a good entry, and it is due on the 15th of September.
Ahem.
Thai Time.
-Carly
Okay, I know keeping the philosophical on the D.L., but I couldn't help but notice today that I have an odd Thai vocabulary-- I know the word for tomorrow, but not yesterday, and for after, but not before. Might that say something about my personality? Haha.
Bye!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
What I Probably Should Have Said
I have been fairly absent from the blogosphere for the past couple of months. I have found inspiration in hundreds of things that I find every day here in Thailand, yet I have not had the motivation to write it out on paper. I have an inkling as to why this is, but it will be difficult for me to form a coherent blog post out of it. Nonetheless, I think I owe an explanation, and maybe even an apology to those of you who have gone so long without hearing anything from me, especially since I was a fairly loyal blogger back in the days of France.
Life here has taken on a sense of normalcy. I'm at the point in which I have to physically remind myself sometimes that I am in Thailand, a country that is thousands of miles away from my home in the United States of America. I've reached what is to be considered the "Surface Adjustment Period" in my time abroad. I have started to get used to Thai customs, traditions, and culture, and it has reassured me that yes, although it will be hard, I will be able to survive this year.
Culture shock was an undeniably awful experience, but I am glad that I had to go through it. After spending days trying to divise a proper escape plan and feeling like crying every day when people addressed me, I gained a lot of insight into my psyche.
I have been grappling with a lot of unanswerable questions lately, and in recent times I have struggled to find even an inkling of intuition in the ever-flowing stream of consciousness that my brain throws at me. These two vastly different cultures that I have been forced to accept and appreciate really make me question myself and human existence. Things like "Why am I here, in Thailand? What do I want to accomplish? Where should I start?" have slowly morphed into inquiries such as "What do I need in order to survive and thrive as a human being? Why I am here, in the world? What has led me to make such decisions in my life? Why do people act as they do? How can a culture withstand time?" In the past few months, these questions have led me to see the most unpleasant and best sides of me.
I am an imperfect being. I am self-conscious, introverted, and abrupt. I am made up of unbalanced dichotomies of light and dark, good and evil, and I have trouble coping with that. My first month here brought out the most extreme versions of myself. I receded into the solitude of my own mind, I would only really say something when I was unhappy. It has gotten ten times better, but I can't forget how I acted then.
I've often thought that regret is the worst feeling in the world. I look back at my first month, and regrets flood back like a tsunami in the south of Thailand. You see, memories leave scars. Some scars you look at and think to yourself, "How badass," or "It gives me character." But others, regrets, leave deeper wounds. They come back to haunt you and leave you with a bitter feeling in your mouth and disdain for yourself and your actions. The problem is, the scars of regret are always left in the most obvious of places-- in the center of your calf, or in between your septum and the top of your lip. These scars seem to be here to torment you. All you can do is look at them, recall how you got them, and kill yourself for letting it happen. The past is a haunting thing. These regrets have a way of seeping into my everyday life and keeping me from living it. They come in the form of jealousy, frustration, and embarassment.
Exchange is a surreal existence. It truly is living two lives at once. Even if you aren't on Facebook or Skype, it is impossible to keep yourself from thinking of the past, which indubitably, includes your life somewhere else. This collision of lives makes memories from your previous life more acute and sentient, as well as exacerbating the present moment. In this black hole that is created, this dimension-less in-between, your mind is constantly filled with ephemeral ideas, thoughts, and reminders of then and now, and regrets and painful memories resurface with more fervor than ever. But at the same time, exchange makes things so much more beautiful. Earlier this evening, my host sister drove me back from the park on her motorcycle. I love riding on the back of motorcycles. In a car, you can easily drown out the world around you and lose yourself. Being on a motorcycle enhances your senses and makes you appreciate every little thing you see. As we drove around the park on our way out, I looked up at the palm trees with awe and saw hundreds of little stars glowing in the sky. I was truly speechless as we continued heading down the tiny streets, hanging street lamps swarmed by mosquitoes and flies lighting the way. In addition to emphasizing the hard times, exchange also allows you to see the irrevocable picture that is the world we live in.
I've strayed from the topic at hand, but I think that it is an accurate representation of what I've felt while abroad. My mind is brimming, and the thought of writing a blog post has been so daunting to me that I haven't even tried. The most I have done is journal in incoherent bursts, occasionally proclaiming a shortcoming or triumph that I have had, and even less so trying to sort out the overactive nerve endings in my head.
Back in my senior year, my English class was the most inspiring course I have ever had in my life. My teacher, Miss De Soto, taught me not only about literature, but also about life. I'm eternally grateful to have had that year before coming here; it taught me so much about myself and really helped me to accept the mass of unresolved contradictions that make up my being (I've already referenced this class four times in this post... hehe). At the end of the year, we had to do a project called the "Senior Statement." In this assignment, our goal was to take a leap into the icy waters that separate us from our comfort zone and tell the truth about ourselves. I gained respect for so many people during the four or five class periods we took to present them all, but one student in particular really took my breath away with her perspective. Simply put, she mentioned having so many thoughts in her head that she needed to get them out onto paper in some creative form. Therefore, what she created was not just for fun, it was truly an extension of herself, and therefore she held it dear to her heart.
Similarly, I find that I am constantly being bombarded by a series of tiny revelations and thoughts, and it seems to be impossible for me to keep them around for long enough to be able to cement them in a journal entry or a blog post. They just keep coming and going and coming and going, and while I am in the middle of trying to properly format one into an acceptable creation, be it in an essay or poetry or art, new ones find their way into my brain, and I fear losing them, because it feels like I am losing a part of myself. I beat myself up because I feel like if I can't create something great, I may as well not create it at all. But I know that is not the right way to look at life. If I could just manage to organize my thoughts and understand what it all means, I might just be able to figure out this crazy thing called exchange, and more importantly, life.
Maybe dancing will help.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1DaACK8zVU
Life here has taken on a sense of normalcy. I'm at the point in which I have to physically remind myself sometimes that I am in Thailand, a country that is thousands of miles away from my home in the United States of America. I've reached what is to be considered the "Surface Adjustment Period" in my time abroad. I have started to get used to Thai customs, traditions, and culture, and it has reassured me that yes, although it will be hard, I will be able to survive this year.
Culture shock was an undeniably awful experience, but I am glad that I had to go through it. After spending days trying to divise a proper escape plan and feeling like crying every day when people addressed me, I gained a lot of insight into my psyche.
I have been grappling with a lot of unanswerable questions lately, and in recent times I have struggled to find even an inkling of intuition in the ever-flowing stream of consciousness that my brain throws at me. These two vastly different cultures that I have been forced to accept and appreciate really make me question myself and human existence. Things like "Why am I here, in Thailand? What do I want to accomplish? Where should I start?" have slowly morphed into inquiries such as "What do I need in order to survive and thrive as a human being? Why I am here, in the world? What has led me to make such decisions in my life? Why do people act as they do? How can a culture withstand time?" In the past few months, these questions have led me to see the most unpleasant and best sides of me.
I am an imperfect being. I am self-conscious, introverted, and abrupt. I am made up of unbalanced dichotomies of light and dark, good and evil, and I have trouble coping with that. My first month here brought out the most extreme versions of myself. I receded into the solitude of my own mind, I would only really say something when I was unhappy. It has gotten ten times better, but I can't forget how I acted then.
I've often thought that regret is the worst feeling in the world. I look back at my first month, and regrets flood back like a tsunami in the south of Thailand. You see, memories leave scars. Some scars you look at and think to yourself, "How badass," or "It gives me character." But others, regrets, leave deeper wounds. They come back to haunt you and leave you with a bitter feeling in your mouth and disdain for yourself and your actions. The problem is, the scars of regret are always left in the most obvious of places-- in the center of your calf, or in between your septum and the top of your lip. These scars seem to be here to torment you. All you can do is look at them, recall how you got them, and kill yourself for letting it happen. The past is a haunting thing. These regrets have a way of seeping into my everyday life and keeping me from living it. They come in the form of jealousy, frustration, and embarassment.
Exchange is a surreal existence. It truly is living two lives at once. Even if you aren't on Facebook or Skype, it is impossible to keep yourself from thinking of the past, which indubitably, includes your life somewhere else. This collision of lives makes memories from your previous life more acute and sentient, as well as exacerbating the present moment. In this black hole that is created, this dimension-less in-between, your mind is constantly filled with ephemeral ideas, thoughts, and reminders of then and now, and regrets and painful memories resurface with more fervor than ever. But at the same time, exchange makes things so much more beautiful. Earlier this evening, my host sister drove me back from the park on her motorcycle. I love riding on the back of motorcycles. In a car, you can easily drown out the world around you and lose yourself. Being on a motorcycle enhances your senses and makes you appreciate every little thing you see. As we drove around the park on our way out, I looked up at the palm trees with awe and saw hundreds of little stars glowing in the sky. I was truly speechless as we continued heading down the tiny streets, hanging street lamps swarmed by mosquitoes and flies lighting the way. In addition to emphasizing the hard times, exchange also allows you to see the irrevocable picture that is the world we live in.
I've strayed from the topic at hand, but I think that it is an accurate representation of what I've felt while abroad. My mind is brimming, and the thought of writing a blog post has been so daunting to me that I haven't even tried. The most I have done is journal in incoherent bursts, occasionally proclaiming a shortcoming or triumph that I have had, and even less so trying to sort out the overactive nerve endings in my head.
Back in my senior year, my English class was the most inspiring course I have ever had in my life. My teacher, Miss De Soto, taught me not only about literature, but also about life. I'm eternally grateful to have had that year before coming here; it taught me so much about myself and really helped me to accept the mass of unresolved contradictions that make up my being (I've already referenced this class four times in this post... hehe). At the end of the year, we had to do a project called the "Senior Statement." In this assignment, our goal was to take a leap into the icy waters that separate us from our comfort zone and tell the truth about ourselves. I gained respect for so many people during the four or five class periods we took to present them all, but one student in particular really took my breath away with her perspective. Simply put, she mentioned having so many thoughts in her head that she needed to get them out onto paper in some creative form. Therefore, what she created was not just for fun, it was truly an extension of herself, and therefore she held it dear to her heart.
Similarly, I find that I am constantly being bombarded by a series of tiny revelations and thoughts, and it seems to be impossible for me to keep them around for long enough to be able to cement them in a journal entry or a blog post. They just keep coming and going and coming and going, and while I am in the middle of trying to properly format one into an acceptable creation, be it in an essay or poetry or art, new ones find their way into my brain, and I fear losing them, because it feels like I am losing a part of myself. I beat myself up because I feel like if I can't create something great, I may as well not create it at all. But I know that is not the right way to look at life. If I could just manage to organize my thoughts and understand what it all means, I might just be able to figure out this crazy thing called exchange, and more importantly, life.
Maybe dancing will help.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1DaACK8zVU
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)