“It is only in
adventure that some people exceed in knowing themselves – in
finding themselves.”
-Andre
Gide
I fit practically
everything I own into a backpack and duffle. It's a strange feeling,
putting your whole life into a couple bags. It's exciting.
Liberating. Scarily impermanent.
After 2 ½ years of living
in Thailand, I'm going home to America. I've known it was coming
since I bought the plane ticket two months ago. It's not a
last-minute decision – not a surprise. In fact, I've been looking
forward to it. Not because I've grown any less fond of Thailand, but
because America the greatest country in the world and it's my home.
It's where my family and many of my friends are, and I'm excited to
be back with them. But even though I've known the time to leave has
been steadily approaching, it didn't really hit me until my
last day, while packing my things for the final time.
The last thing I threw in
my backpack was my lucky Caps hat. It's always the last thing
I put in my backpack – always at the top so it doesn't get crushed.
I can remember when I bought it back in the States before ever
coming to Thailand. It was dark blue then. Now it's a weathered
light gray. I've put a lot of miles on that thing in the past couple years. I've worn it all over Thailand, from the mountains to the
islands. It was on my head, keeping the pouring rain out of my eyes
in Cambodia at Angkor Wat. It kept the Vietnamese sun off my face
every day while I rode a motorcycle for hours and hours down Highway
1. In Laos, I'd pull it down over my brow so I could sleep, just to
kill time on a two-day slow boat down the Mekong.
I've accomplished some
amazing things and had some incredible experiences living and
traveling abroad. I stared at my hat and many of these experiences
flashed through my memory. That's when it hit me: I'm
leaving. Not for a visit or to another town, but actually leaving.
A heavy feeling came over me. Leaving Thailand is the end of not
just a chapter, but a volume in my life. I might occasionally
have a “third-world blowup” and bitch about the inconveniences of
living in a developing country, but I truly love Thailand and the
Thai people. It's become a second home to me and I'm going to miss
it a lot.
I can honestly say that
I'm a different person now than when I first arrived. I've learned
so much about so many different aspects of life. I'm healthier. I'm
happier. I've had more adventures in 2 years than most people will have in
their whole lives. Do you have any crazy stories? Because I've got
more than I have time to tell.
Perhaps the most valuable
thing I've gained are the relationships I've built. I treasure
these. Living and traveling with people thousands of miles from home
creates a certain bond. Most of the friends I've made have moved on
already, either back home or to a new country. I imagine that they had
the same feelings while packing their bags as I did while packing
mine. Knowing that you'll see those people again – someday,
somewhere – makes it a little easier to deal with. And that's how
I have to think of Thailand too – as a friend that I'll see again
someday.
I zipped up my backpack
and in just a few minutes my emotions had traveled the full spectrum.
I went from a moment of realization to a moment of nostalgia. Then happy. Sad. Proud. Overwhelmingly thankful. And finally... excited. I'm excited
because I know that this is the end of one series of
adventures, yet so many more are still to come. I'm making a promise
to myself to make sure that I never stop having adventures – that I
never stop having experiences, meeting interesting people, wearing that hat, learning –
that I never run out of things to write about.
I still have a lot of the
world left to conquer. I better get started.
Jer gan mai, bpratet Thai.
So long, Thailand. Until we meet again.
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