After several days, I began to settle into my new country and time zone.  I was now less shocked to see four people on a motorbike or a dozen people in the back of a truck.  All the streets that had seemed so winding and confusing before, now developed a sense of organization and familiarity.

A couple weeks into the trip, I was feeling burnt out.  The end seemed so far away.  The food once so unique and flavorful, now all tasted the same.  And somewhere along the way, I felt I had lost myself in the tsunami of people around me.  One day during this time, I enjoyed KFC like I never have before in my life because it brought me a little morsel of home.

As the weeks went by, I started to feel more and more a part of Thailand as it grew to become a part of me.  When I would see white people or others who looked like me, I would condescendingly think, “farang.”  I was no longer a tourist.

A month into my journey, I was beginning to feel ready to come home, tired of short doors and stiff mattresses, but the siren call of the southern beaches kept me from homesickness.  As we said goodbye to the Rotarians, I did not feel much sorrow.  I had met many nice people and a small few who I hope will always be my friends.  More than specific people, however, I would miss all of the Thai people with their friendly attitudes and warm smiles.

During my last week in Thailand, the beaches followed through on their promise of being some of the most beautiful in the world.  The water was warm and clear, the skies blue, and limestone cliffs rose from the edges of the white sand.  No words can accurately capture the beauty of the area, and I wiled away my days frolicking in the waves and diving into the pools, each time thinking nothing could be more refreshing than where I was at that moment.  I even went snorkeling for the first time, and the first 15 minutes were some of the most interesting I’ve ever spent.  I never knew there were fish that were purple and aqua and never dreamed that I would be swimming among them.

And now I sit in an airport, waiting on the first of many flights that will take me back to Jacksonville.  I am ready.  I miss my family, my friends, my cat, and my bed.  But part of me worries that I have forgotten that life.  I have never been on holiday for so long, and I wonder if I can regain my normal life.  What will it be like to go back to work five days a week with no wats, motorbikes, or Tom Yum Goong (thank God!)?  How will I adjust to being nobody again when everyone here treated me like a beauty queen?  I will survive; I kind of like carrying my own bags and doing my own laundry. 

But I am sure that each time the scent of jasmine wafts through the air, I will remember all the garlands I have worn and know that I left a little part of myself in Thailand and carry a little part of it with me.

Post from: Thai Trek

Post from: Thai Trek

Post from: Thai Trek

On the rare occasion that we are given menus to order from (this has only happened twice despite numerous times eating out), the English translations are often horribly misspelled. For example, “Deep Fried” is a common section header. I’ve seen “deep” spelled “depp,” “deed,” and “deef” sometimes all within the same menu. This misspelling amused me enough to take a picture. Not surprisingly I did not order this menu item. (Click for a larger picture and look closely for the error.)

Post from: Thai Trek

Normally, this would rouse joy in me because I love natural beauty. But how unclear are plans were (I was told the business skirt I was currently wearing would be appropriate attire; it was not) and how tired we all felt left me unsettled.

After another long drive, we spent a lovely afternoon with some Hmong children or hill tribes as they call them here, who first performed for us at their school and then toured us around their town.

I was most struck by the contrast of ancient ways with modern life. In a contemporary looking home, a family of 27 shared a living space where the women practiced traditional cloth making arts next to the TV and DVD player. It was a strange juxtaposition.

The evening meal and accommodations were very outdoorsy, and Wendy and I were not too comfortable with them. Riding in the back of a pickup truck up a mountain was a bit reminiscent of my childhood on the farm, but I just wasn’t to sure of the food sanitation levels and was a bit nervous.

At 5 a.m. we were roused for a sunrise hike. At 6 a.m., we finally left. The half-mile climb was arduous, but the view and feeling of accomplishment were worth it. Although the white skirt and flip-flops I was wearing were perhaps not really hiking gear, I was glad I was not wearing the business skirt. And I didn’t even have the most inappropriate shoes — that award went to our host’s wife who had a bit of a platform heel.

This journey has been much like climbing a mountain. We have reached the peak in our trip, but there is still a long climb down.

Post from: Thai Trek

This sign was in the public bathroom in the lobby of the less than luxury resort we were staying in a few nights ago. Jamie and Wendy noticed it when they left the karaoke party that featured two women in questionable attire.

Tonight we attended the city fair. They don’t have prizes like this at our carnivals.

Like dogs in the U.S., apparently bunnies get to wear clothes in Thailand.

Umm. Yummy.

Post from: Thai Trek

Although I don’t think flamingos live in Thailand, this is not the error to which I refer. The cake makers were told to prepare something beachy, but look closely at the message. Apparently cultural understanding must start with spelling.

Looking for some understanding myself and with my departure drawing near, I thought it might be time to have that very important conversation that every young woman must some day have with her mother: what things, if eaten, might kill me. As a registered dietician, I thought she could help the worries that had started to churn in my stomach, generating much the same feeling that bugs (yes, bugs) might be generating in a few weeks. Her response: “Well, I don’t know.” Thanks that’s helpful.

Upon further reflection, she suggested staying away from the drowned rat (served raw), which she recently read is a delicacy in Northern Thailand. “In general, stay away from anything raw,” she said.

“But I eat raw fish,” I said, being a sushi lover.

“But that’s in America.”

Now to my more specific worry. “What about bugs? Can they kill me?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you are supposed to know about food!”

“I’ve never served bugs before.” (At least not to her knowledge.)

The results of our conversation were inconclusive, but she has given me something to chew on.

Post from: Thai Trek