Pac Rim: Final thoughts

NOTE: I skipped over all things about India and my spring breaks/the Himalayan trek because its taken me literally a YEAR to post this blog and I just want it up before I leave for China and start blogging about something completely different! If you have any questions about my time in Delhi, Mumbai, returning to Laos (where I spent 3 months during my gap year), or the Himalayan trek please feel free to reach out and ask! I love talking about my experiences and often do not get the chance to, so I would be happy to answer any questions! 

PART I: Thailand

I slacked off on blogging during second semester. This was due to about a month of personal struggle, probably my biggest obstacle on the trip that I experienced, leaving me with little energy or ability to blog or do anything other than what was expected of me. I’ll get into that later. And then I was just so caught up in enjoying what was left of my abroad experience that I figured I would just blog when I’m home! So it’s going to be a long post - I’m currently on my flight from Boston to Seattle for the summer after spending a week at home on the island, so I have 4 hours where I don’t have to anything except write this blog post! 

First I’m going to talk about Thailand and the experience I had living with a Thai family in Chiang Mai for the month of February. 

My host family was awesome. I have heard a number of host family horror stories, and I’m not sure how, but all three of the homestays I’ve done in my life have been with awesome people! I guess I have really lucked out. In Chiang Mai, I was sharing a host family with another girl on the trip, my good friend Delaney. We had two siblings, an 11-year-old host sister and a 15-year-old host brother, and then a kind of host brother who was 19 but was basically another student from a different part of Thailand that was staying with the family while he learned English and was going through a visa application process to go to college in the States. So technically three host siblings. Everyone in the family except for our host dad spoke perfect English. Our host dad spoke none. Despite the fact we could not verbally communicate with him, he was the one in the family that we spend the most time with. Our host mother ran an English school so she was very busy with that, and the siblings were always at school or sports practices. So our host dad took us everywhere, and taught us everything from Muy Thai boxing to how to cook every Thai meal he ever made us. He is a retired Muy Thai boxer, and currently works as a police man. 

We took classes at Chiang Mai University, taught by a professor from University of Puget Sound who came out for the month to teach a course on the political economy of Southeast Asia. We also took Thai lessons. This is what made Thailand a unique part of the trip – we had a school schedule Monday-Friday, on a college campus, and a home to go to at night. It was really the only time on the trip where that kind of stability existed. The month flew by yet dragged on. We rode elephants and learned about ethical tourism, and the role voluntourism (volunteering abroad for fun) has in development in Thailand, something that spiked my interest as I have personally taken part in that and am minoring in global development studies.  

One of the biggest takeaways from living with a Thai host family? Cultural difference. Specifically, guns. This was not too long after the Florida shooting, and it was all the US media was covering at the time. For us as Americans, guns are a tense topic of heated debate. I think we forget that it isn’t like that everywhere. As an American, I am naturally hyper aware when guns are around, have a strong opinion about whether or not I want them in my home, etc. During our second week at our homestay, Delaney and I were in her room doing some homework on the floor, with our host dad casually cleaning stuff up in the kitchen. He walked by us drying something in his hands with a towel, stops, and comes in to show us a handful of bullets. He is smiling and just drying them. Laughing nervously, we’re like “haha ok..!” and he leaves the room. Delaney and I look at each other like WTF? At this point, we don’t know that our host dad is a police man. So we just aren’t really sure why he as bullets. A few minutes later he returns with a small handgun, shows it to us, shows us it’s empty, and then causally loads it no more than a foot from our faces. As he’s loading it, we’re saying “no, no it’s okay! You don’t need to load it”, but of course he doesn’t understand a word we’re saying.  In the States, this just is not something one would do, you just don’t load a gun if you’re not going to use it. I was hit by a wave of panic, my palms immediately started sweating, and I completely froze. It was confusing because up until this moment there was nothing off about our host dad, he was a genuinely kind, warm, person who went out of his way for us on a daily basis. Delaney kind of shoo-ed him out of the room and he casually walked away. Part of this was a just a bad call on his part, combined with the fact that we can’t communicate in any other way besides showing each other things, so that’s what he always did. He showed us how to do everything all the time, so maybe it was just his way of communicating what he was doing. We knew we had to do something as neither of us were comfortable with not knowing whether or not a loaded gun was in the house. In the end, we called our host mom into the room and explained to her that in the States, guns are a hot topic and we are not comfortable with them, and wanted to know why our host dad had one and that he unloaded it before putting it away. It really was not a comfortable conversation, but she was so apologetic and understood where we were coming from, and relayed the information to him. She also explained that he was a police officer. The next morning he was cleaning his bullet proof vest and police uniform, and recited a well practiced apology in English. 

While loading a gun for no reason is a stupid thing to do regardless of whatever culture you may be in, the weight and seriousness of it was vastly different on our side compared to his. And, the awkwardness of communicating discomfort or your needs is well worth getting the answers you deserve. The transparency also allowed us to continue to build a good relationship with our host family rather than festering in confusion and discomfort which inevitably leads to resentment. 

Part II: Reflection 

We always say we don’t know where the time went. It seems to just drift by us until one day we realize that something that was just beginning, is now ending. That’s when we ask the question – where did the time go?! 

As I find myself pondering this question right now, asking myself how this time seemed to fly by while simultaneously drag on, I know exactly where the time went. 

It was in the moments we were traveling, transitioning from one location to the next via plane, train, bus or boat. Hours spent watching the land pass us by. Time slipped away then, and once we reached the new place it felt like the time spent getting there was nothing, it evaporated. 

The time went to the hours we all spent together – getting to know each other in the beginning through conversations about nothing and everything. Later on, through playing games, laughing, being silly in a way that “regular life” at home doesn’t always have room for. What is regular life anyway? 

The time went to learning about each other through explaining things about our lives that we’ve never really had to explain to anyone before, thus learning even more about ourselves. 

The time went to trying to find places and often times, getting horribly lost. A simple day planned for studying at a nearby café became a frustrating adventure upon finding out the café on google maps doesn’t actually exist. Before we knew it, another day had gone by, was lost to getting lost while we constantly were trying to orient ourselves in new locations. 

The time went to heavily immersing ourselves. In host families, with those around us who so warmly welcomed us to their home, town, city. Taking the time to ask and answer questions, to learn as much as we could through conversations with our host parents. To letting go of the expectations we might have had, and embracing the new, exciting, sometimes unappealing activities and lifestyle presented to us by our homestay. The time went to adapting. 

The time went to learning how to push forward when there was a dull ache within us, missing the people we love and our support systems at home, when we really needed them. Pac Rim doesn’t stop for those 9 months, there are no breaks, pauses, or days off. 

The time went to coping with a mix of wanting a moment to last an eternity, yet wishing time away as waves of longing for familiarity swept over us. 

The time went to learning one of the greatest lessons of all; Pac Rim taught me what I am capable of, and that I am in charge of my own happiness. I learned my limits. I learned what I could push through and set aside to do the day. And I learned what I cannot push through, I learned when to give myself a break. 

I’ve learned that euphoria, happiness, extreme gratitude can still exist and be present  alongside pain, when something difficult is happening. It’s not, and never is black and white. There are pockets of beauty and happiness amidst challenge and hardship, and vice versa. I learned how to allow myself to tap into the beauty despite the challenges. 

That’s where all the time went.