On this, my last day in Thailand, I found myself reflecting upon my journey.  I remembered the first few days where everything seemed so new and different.  My eyes could barely see and my mind barely process all that was around me. 

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.

Yesterday (still today for a few short hours in Illinois) was my birthday. I was going to let this event slip by quietly until Jamie somehow found out earlier on the trip. Once it was known, I decided I would at least celebrate a bit after the conference.

Members of both GSE teams (names shall be withheld to protect the innocent) went out to the Hot Spot to dance and celebrate. It was one of the most fantastic birthdays of my life! The Thai club was not what I was expecting. The farang were looking around for the dance floor as we entered but instead found a stage and rows of perpendicular tables. We were the first people there. I was skeptical.

Then a band took the stage, a few people (mainly older farang and young Thai women) started to filter in, and my skepticism grew. The music was “broken heart” songs as the locals called it. I was wondering how soon we could leave. The band, however, was very interesting. Each song featured a new lead singer and most sported very special “costumes.” My favorite was the guy whose look I can only describe as a mullet, mixed with a Mohawk done Flock of Seagulls style with clothes that were ’80s meets Japan.

When the music and the crowd started to pick up, the costumes became even more outrageous (and smaller for the women whose look switched from streetwalker to stripper), and they added boy-band style back up dancers. It was fantastic! I have never seen such unintentional spectacle. The music was also fun to dance to, so I had a club plus a floorshow. I was giddy. Our whole group was breaking it down, and I think it might go down as one of the most special nights of the trip.

Thanks Thailand GSE for such a spectacular birthday.

In previous blogs, I have mentioned that paper towels are not as prevalent in Thailand. The cultural differences extend to regular towels.

A few towns ago, Jamie and I were staying with the same host, who pretty much did not speak English. Jamie took a shower in the evening and managed to procure a towel by pointing to the one in the bathroom to express her need.

I tried the same trick in the morning. She seemed to scurry about for a bit but with no results. I tried asking again. Eventually, she pointed towards our room and said something including song (two in Thai) while holding up her fingers. As near as I could translate, she had only two towels (the one in the bathroom and Jamie’s), and Jamie and I must share. In fact, she seemed a bit affronted that I would ask for a towel.

When telling this strange story to Wendy, she mentioned that her host explained that most Thais travel with their own towel. This somewhat explains the situation but does not relieve the fact that Jamie and I shared the same towel for two days.

Oh, but it got worse. At our last host, we could not find them in the morning to ask for towels, so Jamie and I air-dried. I employed three methods: 1) shaking like a dog, 2) brushing off the water with my hands, and 3) using my pajamas for excess moisture. For two days, I did this. It was especially hard to get my hair dry.

It is nice to be in a hotel now.

Arriving in Phayao (our sixth city in two weeks), we were all pretty exhausted. Our hosts told us where we would be staying but to grab an overnight bag for the night as we were heading for the mountains.

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.

Apparently in Thailand, I have a twin. Her name is Natalie. I should be flattered. She is a former Miss Universe. What do you think?

Apparently, Natalie married a top-ranked Thai tennis player (I accidentally said golfer before, but meant tennis player), thus making her a celebrity here. In almost every town I have traveled to (including within the first few minutes of stepping off the plane in Phitsanulok), at least one person tells me I look like her. In some towns, like Phrae where we are now, almost every person tells me this.

I wonder if it is just because they associate farang (foreigners) with Natalie or if they really think we share more than being tall and brunette. (As they say, all Westerners look alike.) I’ll let you be the judge.

Today I hit the housing lottery jackpot. After a week in Thailand, we finally got to see into someone’s house today and got to stay with our first host families.

Mine has a daughter who speaks English like a native. She is visiting from her university in Bangkok primarily because of my visit. On the way to the house, she explained to me that we were going to the house in the country as they have two houses – one near her father’s school (which he owns) and one in the country near her mom’s work (she runs a tobacco farm). When we pulled up, we did a short driving tour of the farm first and then back to the house. It belongs in architectural digest. It is the picture of classic Thai style mixed with modern flair. Everything is white or wood – white marble floors in one part, teak in the other; teak doors, teak furniture, teak trim, teak windows (with a beautiful metal design in the middle). I have my own room with a king bed and a bathroom nicer than my one at home (sorry mom). Pak, the daughter, told me they built the house just three years ago, and they normally stay in the city house. Although everyone else’s accommodations sound very nice as well (Roger has his own house as his host is a contractor building small homes near his), none are anything like this.

Early in the day, we entered our first Thai house when a Rotarian from Sawankalok invited us to lunch. He owns a construction business and is currently building an agri-tourism resort on his property. His house was quite large (I think someone counted six bedrooms … each possibly with its own bath) and an interesting study in contrasts. Some things were amazingly beautiful (like the doors carved with elephants entering the kids’ bedroom) and some not so much (like the 1970s style ceiling tiles). The most amazing part was the house within a house. It looked like a traditional style Thai house surrounded by a koi pond (complete with bridge) in the middle of their house. It was one of the many en suite bedrooms and unique.

Although today was a study in Thai opulence, I am sure I will run into some houses that are not that way (much like that last hotel).

Today was a big day. I peed in my first squatty pot! I showered in the bathroom that has no curtain but does possess the dirt of many a decade. Let me tell you a little bit about how this works. There is something that looks a bit like a toilet, but it is really close to the ground. Next you take water from the cistern next to it using a bowl and dump it down the toilet until the waste is removed. Somehow I chose the only day I did not wear a skirt to use a squatty pot. I tried desperately to keep my capris from touching the floor. There was at least a sink outside with soap, which was very important because not enough soap in the world could remove the eww-factor.

Using the special bathroom features found in rural Thailand, I feel like I have washed away a level of prissiness from myself.

Things I don’t understand about Thai bathrooms:

* Every bath has a spray hose next to the toilet. This, I have been told, is used similar to a bidet. My questions: How do you dry yourself afterwards? Do you pull up your panties all soaking wet? And if so, doesn’t that make it look like you peed yourself?

* What’s with the opposition to towels? Many bathrooms have no hand towels paper or otherwise. I’m learning to air dry or use my clothes, but I am not entirely liking it.

Oh, and I got to ride an elephant today … through an historic park with ruins of a 700-year-old civilization! It couldn’t have been more exciting. We fed the elephant afterwards, which was also fascinating. (For more information on all the cool things we did today, check out our group’s blog located under the Blog Roll on the right.)

Today I was sad in Thailand for the first time. And it was entirely my own doing.

We left the many kind hearts of Phitsanulok but not before a tour of TV station, a hospital owned by Rotarians, and a farewell lunch. But this is not what made me sad.

My camera battery died on a day when we toured Sukhothai, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It is the ruins of the first Thai capital complete with 700-year-old Buddhas, temples, and palaces. But my lack of ability to take pictures did not make me sad.

The local club then took us to our hotel. I am getting the impression that we might be staying in hotels the whole time. This is somewhat disappointing because I was looking forward to sharing with a Thai family. But this did not make me sad.

The hotel was not quite up to Western standards. Although it does have a Western toilet, hot water, and AC, it was a bit unsettling. But this did not make me sad.

At dinner (in the hotel) with the Rotarians, the one who speaks English said we will attend their club meeting there tomorrow. I realized that this might be the nicest hotel in town. I felt very ungrateful and snobbish. And this is what made me sad.

One hundred and eighty-eight. This is how many photos I just downloaded from the last day and a half. To say I feel overwhelmed does not begin to describe it. There have been so many interesting experiences that I can’t begin to describe them all. A brief overview (and some photos):

At school we gave autographs to students six-year-olds who spoke better English than some adults at home.

We saw olden Thai way of life, where Thais displayed their ingenuity in things like rattraps at the folk museum.

A bird tried to eat my necklace at the Garden Birds of Thailand.

We saw modern Thai ingenuity at Naresuan University, home of 40,000 students (who are on summer break) and named after a famous king.

Buddha, Buddha, Buddha. We observed statues being made (which retail for around $12,000) and then displayed in the wat. The Wat in Phitsanulok contains what is regarded as the most beautiful Buddha in Thailand, and people buy statues and donate them to the temple. Rows and rows of Buddha. (I’m sure our first of many.)

More on the schools and temples later …

One of my friends jokingly suggested that the Thais would revere me as a god because I was so tall. He had visions of temples being built in my honor. I don’t think it is going to go that far, but I can say that the entertainment at last night’s dinner was having your picture taken with the gigantic farang (foreign) girl. They were all so amused at the fact that they did not even reach my shoulders.

Dogs and motorbikes run rampant in Thai streets. I can’t even imagine how people drive here as motorbike drivers use no signals and weave in and out of traffic. Interestingly enough many also do not wear helmets and bike in shorts and T-shirts (some barefoot). I can’t imagine the road rash if they would happen to crash. Most notable motorbike siting so far: a woman riding a scooter sans helmet with a baby strapped to her chest.

But I can not say enough of how friendly and welcoming the Thai people are. I love talking to them and have managed to learn about as much Thai in one night as I did in all the weeks before my journey, including soy mai (don’t check my spelling, which was solely phonetic), which means very beautiful or what I believe Thailand and its people are.