It Goes Full Cycle: Final Days

This post was written on March 29, 2010 on a breezy evening in Koh Samet. I was savoring a scoop of chocolate ice cream as I reminisced on my time in SE Asia (journeys to Burma, Cambodia, and Vietnam will later be posted)...

The full moon sits in the dark, velvety blue sky like a perfectly illuminated bronze penny – a mint coin on museum display, so it seems. It's 6pm, and I face the perfect circle as I wade alone in the warm waters of Koh Samet – my favorite island in all of Thailand – as if engaged in a final goodbye conversation with a loved one – for it is, sad as I currently am to say, one of my last days in Thailand.

I don't even know if I'm saying anything coherent to the moon, but who cares? I'm here in Koh Samet by myself and want to talk to someone/thing that understands what I'm going through. But because the journeys we (“we” being foreign teachers, volunteers, expats, travelers, etc.) go through when living abroad are so wonderfully individualized, the only entity to which I feel safe unleashing my torrent of thoughts is one that won't talk back or question or sympathize with me, because that's not what I want right now. I just want to reflect without needing to make sense, and the simple moon, with its golden reflection silently shimmering on the black waters, seems to smile kindly at me and say, “gab away, Kristina.”

So I do. The combination of the jacuzzi-like water, pampering sand, Singha, perfect night air, and Jack Johnson playing in the background jolt me into reflection mode. I really can't help it. I open the flood gates and start with the thought that has plagued and amazed me most throughout these past few weeks: “How the heck did time fly by so fast?!” This leads me down a most wallowing path, during which feelings of last-minute desperation overwhelm me. I feel the need to do and try everything that I love about Thailand just one more time before I leave. My thoughts run something like this:

I must eat suki at MK one more time. I must eat my favorite coconut yogurt one more time. I should call Madam Chong and have a final lunch with her. Is Tina in town? Is Nancy in town? Where is Nate, Reuven? I really wish I had hung out with them more. I also wish Linnea were here with me, dang she's cool. We've had some good times, haven't we? And ugh, I should have ordered a Chang beer instead of wine tonight at dinner– my gosh, what was I thinking? I can get wine anywhere, but Chang? By the way, did I buy all the terribly cheap goods I need to buy, or do I need to go shopping yet again? And why, why, moon, doesn't America have street-side fruit vendors? I'm going to gain fruit fat from all the mango I'll need to consume in the next few days...

But then, in the midst of my most petty run-on babbles, I stop, and I look up to my most patient listener, which happens to be the calming answer to all my frantic and anxious worries, and I literally chuckle out loud.

The funny thing is that my departure from Thailand coincides with a full moon, which, as I've learned, is a big deal in Asia for both religious and social purposes (see: Full Moon party, which I happened to skip in order to spend time in solitude at Samet instead. But I digress.). “How wonderful it is,” I think to myself, “that the end of my Thailand experience can be symbolized by the mark of one of nature's finest cycles.”

I stop worrying, and I am at peace.

It goes like this: the moon will always be there, as will my opportunities to find and do the exciting things I have done in Thailand, God willing. As we all know, the moon goes through routine growth changes that inevitably lead it to be complete, full, and round – an exuberantly shining beacon in the middle of the expansive night sky. We can expect this to happen before it slips away and re-starts the cycle of rebirth to full growth, on repeat.

And I suppose that is what has happened to me, and to the thousands of other individuals who are courageous, and admittedly fortunate enough, to leave their known comforts at home and start afresh and sort-of alone, abroad. As long as we throw ourselves into our experiences with as open-minds as the blank, moonless sky at the beginning of the lunar cycle, then we'll leave with a full chapter written in our life's book, as well-rounded and enlivened as the full moon. And though our next “cycles” may be unknown, we can still move forth with a conviction that shines from within. Because we know we can. And that we should. And that we really have no choice in the matter, for the next cycle is coming whether we like it or not.

Waving goodbye with my 9th graders at Amnuayvidhya School on the last day of class

Bewitched; it's love.

Right now, I'd like to quote Mr. Darcy from “Pride and Prejudice” when he says at the end of the movie to the lovely Keira Knightley: “You bewitch me – mind, body, and soul.” And how every woman sighs a romantic sigh as she bracingly clutches her heart when she hears that line, I sigh a bittersweet sigh whenever I pause and reflect on my experience here.

Thailand has bewitched my mind, body, and soul.

At this point, I can easily confess that I love the Thailand that I've gotten to know. During my first month here, I was having fun and appreciating my experience, but I was still slightly homesick and would sometimes think about life back at home: how much I missed it, how happy I'll be to be back, etc. But something recently changed; I woke up one morning after Koh Samet and realized how hard I'm falling for this place.

It's hard to live in the present, for when I'm in it and am having the time of my life, I only think about the future and how much I'll miss this current life I'm leading. Does that make sense?

When I look at my students or pictures of my students, I get nostalgic and start missing them, even though I'm currently teaching them. I see them every day in the halls but am getting attached to their cheery greetings and how they'll drop everything they're doing just to run outside and yell “TEACHAH!” down the hall if they catch a glimpse of me. I'm getting attached to their exuberant cheers and the applause by which I'm greeted when I enter their classrooms. Attached to their high-fives, stickers, hugs (so many hugs), smiles; getting attached to singing “I want nobody, nobody but YOU!” by the Wondergirls (a famous song in Thailand right now) with my kiddos, and training them to do the “cha-cha-cha” whenever I say the word, “dance!” The other day after school, I witnessed the 2^nd and 3^rd graders practicing their dance for our upcoming Sport Day in January (these girls can dance, by the way, wow! Danger...haha). They are SO adorable shakin' their “thangs”, clapping and sweating as their braids bounce up and down, that I got teary-eyed at the thought of leaving them. Already they've taught me the importance of patience and not taking life too seriously (no one likes an angry teachahhh!). Let loose, have fun, and smile. I will miss them so when my five months are up.

Each week here flies by. If time here were the equivalent of an animal, it'd be a hummingbird, for it zooms about and pauses for a brief few moments – suspended in time as it forces you to think and reflect, as traveling/living by yourself often makes you do – but then it's moving, moving, moving once again. The past few weekends have been some of the most exciting of my life; the constant traveling and seeing new things with just one other (cool) person (Linnea) is liberating, exciting, eye-opening, refreshing, introspective, and fun. I get a high from it. On a Saturday/Sunday at home, I might read three chapters of a book, run, go to church, eat a good meal, watch a movie, spend time with friends and family (which is always awesome), and sleep in. Nothing special, nothing too boring, nothing too exciting.

But consider this: I write this post on a Sunday night back at my apartment in Phra Padaeng. Yesterday morning I woke up in this same apartment, left for Kanchanaburi (3 hours away), arrived, rode bikes in the countryside, visited a museum and war cemeteries, explored a cave, hiked to 7 different waterfalls, came back to Bangkok, and then sat in on a Swedish Lucia/Christmas festival. All within two days, one night. Brother Time must be impressed with how Linnea and I have made use of him during our travels.

There's still so much that I want to do while I'm here and I'm getting nervous at the thought of how little time I have left. In the meantime, I will continue to let myself fall in love with Thailand and all its natural wonder, historical stupor, personable charm, and culinary surprises. I'll continue to get lost in appreciative reflection during long bus rides overlooking Thailand's majestic mountains, greenery, and snaking rivers. I'll gladly continue to contentedly nap – full with fresh mango juice and papaya – under palm trees and the blanket of the sun, on Thailand's breathtaking beaches. Everything's awesome. Any foolish doubt that I may have had when entering this program and choosing Thailand over, say, a country in South America (I still really want to go there, though!), has been erased. I'm so glad I chose to teach, for it has been one of the most enriching parts of my experience here.

I fall asleep many nights thinking to myself, “if I died right now, I would die happy.” I'm blessed to have a supportive family and this fortunate opportunity. Not everyone can afford to do this, but I wish they could. Traveling with an open mind is the best education and the easiest way to fall in love with life.