Miss and Individuality

I’ve been in Canada a year and a half now. After living in Thailand for five years.
I can tell you that I do not miss the place too much. I have pangs of it every now and then and a slew of specific moments that snag in my brain system. I don’t know what draws them out- usually it’s nothing relating to what my present moment is.
I don’t get stuck on them though-I let them pass for what they are and continue on.

As soon as those deep misses hit,immediatly following I feel either one of two things.

One: You want to be at the place you are not in; but  you have set a perfect example of the grass not being greener on the other side.

I want to go back sometimes, but if I think practically, the idea is absurd. I got into such a rut there ( my relationship at the time certainly aided it) that I began to detest my surroundings. Wanting nothing more, than my homeland.

Two: I am fortunate to be able to feel something like this. For a place like this, for a time in my life like this.

There are millions who will never know what living outside of learning what hackysack or hopscotch or caramilk chocolate bars are. Millions who will never spend five years of their life in a country with a language different then their own. People who will not know what it’s like to go without having a bath for years and only showers. Who will not know what it’s like to miss a bag of ketchup chips or honey nut cheerios.

And that’s okay.

I admit to never walking the Great Wall of China or trying to learn how to surf.
I’ve never even eaten an olive and liked it.

And this is what creates individuality.

 

 

 

Travelled Birdy WhoaMan

I think this month of 2016 I’ve written the most. In all four year I’ve had this blog.

I just feel like spilling I guess. Brimmed up slowly like the drops of the Tassimo and the cups too small and there it drips down the sides of the black mug I always choose.

I’ve been to a few places in the world:
England, Italy,Switzerland,France,Germany,Thailand,Austria,Oman, practicially all 51 ( or is it 52 now? ) states of America. Vancouver,Newfoundland,Toronto,Quebec.. and none of those are airport pitstops.
Those are a few off the top of my head.

I started out young. 16? Well, young to me.
And I like the person it’s made me. I think.
I think because I also think that sometimes it’s a downfall. Like you need more to impress you now. That it takes more for you to be interested in a person.
Your senses are broadened. You’ve seen more. You’ve met more. You’ve tasted more.

I didn’t intend anything in this post. But here I type, cross legged in a chair from Thailand and my feet are asleep like I will be in 23 minutes.

Through all that travel experience, which has done mucho much for me and to me,
i like how it’s made me want to live in only one country for life.
The country I was born in.

Can Ah Daaaahhhhhhh.

 

Back To Thailand

Let’s take a look back to the place I lived in for five years. Pattaya,Thailand.
It changed me.
As  moving anywhere does.

Pattaya is a city of tourists,prostitutes,murders,drugs,wires,signs and deceit.

That basically sums up the negative.
But I am not such a cynical person that I find no positive of anything.

Fruit is wonderful, markets, 24hour 711’s almost within 4 minutes of anywhere.
Beautiful. Cheap clothes.
Weather.Beaches.

And there’s people that will drive you home so drunk you don’t even know where home is and they call your mom from you iphone asking and taking no money from purse and delivering.
Once in a lifetime that happens.

There’s also the time where you almost get raped by a so called friend and you set it up cause you went there alone in the dark and it waas in the middle of nothing but  a pack of dogs so when you scream and bolt and run and run and have dogs chasing and you’re whipping stones at them and hoping hoping hoping you won’t feel their teeth on your leg, well that’s life there too.

I haven’t had many scary expeirences there. That I felt. Save for that one. So in five years, i think that’s doing pretty good. I mean, i putmyself in dangerous spots all the time. I truly did. I ate noodles in a stairwell at three am for 2 months straight on the weekends.

I bruised with reality. I tested it. I got so drunk i was shoeless in a massive downpour, water rushing down streets and alone and white wearing me , brother searching, me just drunk drunk drunk.

I like to believe that my non touristy brain, saved me.
That I could smell danger, I avoided. That I thought like them. That my knowlede of the city, the people, helped me. I was able to manevouer around people. My expertise at people, at Thai’s really came into play and I belive that the reason for my safety.

No matter what they say.

Cause they lie like they need the money.
And most of them do.

 

It is a Big Day

Well I’m not drunk this time.
But I’ve got some big news to share.

My three year old son meets his biological father for the first time today. As of right now, there are no memories attatched to this man. Z has no recollection, no idea that he was made because of two people in love in another country.

Yes, he was there when my son was born. We stayed together for a year or two after.
But those spaces in the brain,
that is not what son remembers.

So after a year and three months they shall meet at my parents log house and I shall stand by and watch very closely. Every tidbit of strength and understanding coming to the platform. Perhaps I will see similarities that I never knew of before. I am proud and excited to show him my dedication and devotion of over a year, in the creating of this boy that is our son.

May the papers over this little boys head, go smooth and easy.
Let us be adults.
Good ones.

 

They Are Back There

My parents are back in the place I lived in for five years.

Just for a vacation.
Five years of my teaching and drinking and having child and marriage and being and learning the living.
They are in the midst, my mothers skirts brushing at the strokes of my history. My fathers golf swing smothering the memories and moments of mine.

It is strange. They to be meeting with my ex husband. For him to give them a box and for him to give them papers.

It all feels strange. And unreal.
Is this my life or anothers.

A Country Break Up

I think I thought I would miss Thailand more than I do.
I do ride on waves and big wind gusts of the stuff sometimes. But it isn’t very frequent at all. And it’s easy to get off of them.

Since moving back to Canada in September of 2014, I have been conscious-and still am- when it comes to Asian stuffs.  I refuse to have any contact in any form with Thai friends. I don’t let myself scroll through there Facebook pages or Instagram accounts. When I see Asians out in public I do find myself staring and feeling a deep connection. But that is really all I allow myself. Partly because I cannot control the sight of them, and partly because running in the opposite direction just doesn’t seem like a good thing to do.
I’ve found that it spills out an over abundance of connection to the country and memories and feelings that I consider to be  interference’s.

It’s kind of like a break-up. Emotional connections don’t just ‘zip’,’zilch’ out of your life. It takes time. You’ll still see things or hear music that reminds you of them, and that’s part of the whole process. The duration of it depends on the person.

Thailand will always be a part of my life. I had my son there and he’s a quarter Asian, for goodness sake. I am not against the country or it’s people but by cutting out as much contact with it, it has helped me lesson the emotional attachment I had pertaining to that part of my life. Coming to the understanding that I do not miss it because I have not made a place for that miss to build, is a reassuring, refreshing analysis in my life.
I am capable of doing that with other categories. I can avoid the dangerous, tempting spots. I just make a conscious effort and ‘voila’, time gets it.
Time will always get it.