What on earth does 19 weeks of freedom look like? 19 weeks without a job, sometimes without a home, sometimes without a purpose, sometimes without friends. 19 weeks of no new posts.
The first and largest chunk of time was spent decompressing in Bangkok and traveling by myself through India and Nepal. These are the stories that will be forthcoming.
The middle chunk was spent at home, in the company of my family and mostly crying from laughter every day. That, or dealing with leftover medical woes from India.
And this last chunk, this closing chunk, has been spent searching for employment in a city that isn’t new but isn’t exactly old news either. This period of liminality is now coming to a close. Things are falling into place and it feels good.
I promised, however, that I would update my blog with some of the time I have left now.
December 17, 2012, I rose early. After discarding the last of the dingiest clothing and jamming spices, tea, and yak wool songs into my trusty backpack, and layering in thermals and fleece. I was unaccustomed to the Kathmandu valley cold and slept under six layers of down blankets – I’m sure my subtropically-adjusted body could take no fewer than six.
I passed through Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International Airport for the third (out of four) time that year. (Remember my first time?)
And many, many hours layer, I made it to Bangkok. I shed multiple layers upon my arrival into Suvarnabhumi. Five weeks was a long enough time to develop a strong craving for Thai food, even if I had had it each and every day for over a year. So with my craving in mind, I sat on the skytrain with plans to meet friends for a big Isaan feast in Bangkok’s Ari neighborhood.
With thoughts of som tam (papaya salad) and khao mu yang (grilled pork neck) in my head, I lugged my luggage off the skytrain and through Ari’s soi-side dinnertime crowd. Let me tell you, I was so happy to see a table of smiling faces waiting for me. I was there, with kind and fascinating people, eating food I can’t get here in the US, and feeling dewy and more than a little ripe after a day of international travel and an evening of navigating the Bangkok heat with a giant backpack. I remember gushing about the past five weeks and everything I’d just been though, because really, other than my journal and conversations with strangers here and there, my stories and experiences hadn’t had a chance to come forth yet.
Immediately upon relieving myself of my backpack and sitting down, my friend Kyle asked me, “So, did you find yourself?”
Half-jokingly, half-seriously I snapped (the literal kind of finger-snapping, not the angry speech type) and replied, “I was never lost.”
“Finding yourself” in India has become trite, to say the least. But I wasn’t lost before going to India and I’m not now. So while I can’t speak to India’s life-orientation skills, I can say that my time in India was as personally enriching as I had hoped (and I hoped for a lot, believe me).
I feel like this a bad, privileged thing for me to admit, but after being in India, I felt like it was the first real place I had been to. I can’t even describe what I mean. All of humanity is on display and it constantly requires attention.
So with time and with photos and with a few words too, I hope to share with you what I saw.