naomi shihab nye describes love as “breathing in two countries”. for me, i feel like i’m breathing in three. after living in mexico for four years, part of my heart will always lie there; and now, thailand is also etched under my skin.
this month, i am starting my 9th year in thailand. NINE years. how did that happen? i mean, other than the obvious… that time can’t stop, won’t stop. it is simply racing by at rapid speed. i moved to bangkok in my twenties, as a grade 5 teacher. at that time, i had never even been to asia, i was reeling from a difficult breakup, and i didn’t like yoghurt. (the yoghurt thing was truly a loss!) in the last nine years, i’ve travelled all over asia, made some of my best life friends, found my calling professionally and had my life turned upside down. i have made a life and a home in bangkok – it has become the setting and the backdrop for a quarter of my life.
over the past six months, i’ve been particularly observant of life in bangkok and thailand. after being gone for several months last fall and living in what felt like grayscale, i came back feeling like everything was in technicolor. even the annoying parts took on new meaning: those useless little pink napkins at local restaurants (that don’t absorb ANYTHING) made me smile. the mesh of tangled wires that hang over the streets looked like artwork. the piercing noise from the whistle-happy security guards became music to my ears. at least for awhile.
here are a few specific reasons why bangkok (and thai people) continue to be so endearing to me:
- motorbikes: i used to dream of living in a place where i would ride a motorbike, with my long hair waving in the wind out of the edges of my helmet. that image usually involved island living, palm trees, and a beautiful man. alas. there is still time! my motorbike reality is slightly different, yet equally thrilling. every time i get on, i join a sea of motorbikes that somehow twists and turns through the traffic gridlock. it is like we are dancing as we swerve gracefully, avoiding the cars around us by mere inches. when i’m driving my own motorbike in bangkok, i’ve never felt more alive.
- it is socially acceptable to break small rules: i’ve always loved to live on the healthy edge of rules. i’m not a complete thrill seeker, and i don’t mean BIG rules where i’d be in trouble. just small ones. like a right hand turn where it it not technically allowed, or crossing the street where there isn’t a crosswalk, or parking my motorbike on the sidewalk. in bangkok, sometimes, people will actually help you to break the rules! the other day, i was trying to make an illegal right hand turn onto my street, and a kind gentleman got out of his car to stop traffic for me. not a single person honked, and the police officer on his motorbike gave me a nod and a wave. healthy disfunction, at its best.
- the genuine shock and surprise from thai people when something doesn’t work: thailand isn’t known for having the structures and systems to be the most efficient country in the world. small things go wrong pretty much all the time: i have a package stuck at the border, the new electronic security for getting my car in and out of my condo building is unreliable, and you still need a physical printed passbook to get anything done at the bank. yet, every single time something doesn’t work (even if it is a regular occurrence), locals act genuinely shocked and surprised. audibly, they gasp, even if it is a mistake that they have made, implying, “how could this have happened?” i am sure this is rooted in the whole concept of not losing face; yet i find it so lovely and sweet. how nice to assume everything will work all the time and to be genuinely puzzled when it does not.
- it is all about relationships. i’ve been getting a foot massage from the same woman at the massage parlour on my street for many years. i’ve been buying flowers from the same stall every saturday for as long as i can remember. the tuk tuk drivers that work at my building do not speak english, yet are so thoughtful and kind, and willing to go above and beyond to help me when i’m stuck. when i returned after being gone, everyone remembered me, their faces brightening up. rather than shop around, it is much more satisfying to build relationships with locals, learn about their lives and their families, and be a loyal repeat customer. the service is much improved, and more importantly; i feel more connected to the local culture and to individual lives.
- mai pen rai mentality. essentially, mai pen rai translates to “no worries” or “it’s okay”. it is a state of mind that is important here: not to be stressed out or bothered by things and to accept that much is out of our individual control. this also comes up in the cancer world. my thai oncologist actually said to me: “you shouldn’t worry so much”. uhhhh, you try being diagnosed with a very deadly disease and then not worry about it!?? the mai pen rai mentality certainly helps to keep things in perspective, and in general, is the perfect antidote for our western mindsets that are over-focused on productivity, effectiveness, and results.
bangkok is a chaotic city of extremes. thailand is a country filled with genuine goodness and at times, a lack of efficiency. the hot humid weather, the monsoon rains, the fresh coconut water, the traffic, the smiles, the strong massages.
they aren’t for everyone, but they are for me.
*this photo was taken at a local market in thonburi, in march 2018. thai people have a deep love and appreciation for food, and the best food here is often street food. vendors usually become experts in a particular dish (or a small number of dishes), perfecting their recipes over a lifetime. it is hot, exhausting and physical work.
