กลับบ้าน Going home?

Well, today was my last class in Thailand.  Possibly the last class I ever teach. (That sound you're not hearing?  An exclamation of disappointment from potential future students,)  And with it comes the end of my stay in Bangkok.

I have had a really great time here, and it is hard to believe that my trip has come to an end.  I've been able to do a ton of different things here and I've made some really good friends, but seeing my friends and family back in the States will be appreciated too.

กลับบ้าน (klap baan) means to go home, which is only somewhat true of the trip I will be making on Tuesday night of this week.  Part of me knows my home is with my family and friends in the US, but for nearly ten months, my home has been apartment 501 on Soi 37.  That's where I returned after trips and workdays; it will take an adjustment for me to fully accept the fact that I'll probably never see these white walls and dim lights again.

I had planned on writing a longer post, but my computer is apt to occasional strange moments which frustrates me such that I don't like to type too much.  For some reason, the trackpad mouse now clicks whenever my hands are anywhere near the bottom half of the computer (probably ant-related damage), which makes even the most basic tasks far more difficult and infuriating than they should be.

I have a number of fascinating (well my mothers thinks so) stories I have accumulated throughout my trip.  Ask me about them sometime.

Thailand is one of my favorite countries in the world, and Southeast Asia is a magical place where things of wonder occur with freakish regularity.  I in no way find this goodbye to be a permanent decision, but rather a break until I can accrue enough funds to return again.

I would like to think that I did Thailand proper, though no other country did I do justice.  I was able to visit the North, the South and the middle.  I learned enough Thai to get by and was encouraged by the experience to keep learning languages and cultures.  Which, good news for me, usually means going to new places.

I haven't written nearly as much as I thought I would over these short nine months, but I like to think that I was too busy experiencing the world to pull out a pen and paper.  Which isn't to say I don't have pages and pages written (most of which I don't understand as I go back over it today), but more to say that I simply haven't written it for others to read.

Here is an excerpt from one of my journals as I rode the bus to Pattaya:

"Twenty minutes into our drive, we stop at another bus station, still in Bangkok. . . .  Bangkok is full of interesting things to see.  I just saw a man sitting beneath a freeway overpass, comfy as you please due to his Okie Shade Tree'd chair and table.  Ingeniously made from scraps of wood and no small amount of garbage, it was a reminder of creativity in uninspirational areas.  Steve Jobs died today.  And here was this guy, on his reclaimed rubbish table and chair.  Also, he was writing on his laptop.  Strange."

Many things happen underneath freeway overpasses here.  Some of those things, like the one above are strangely magical.  Other things are the opposite of that and better left to the dark recesses of our minds.  Occasionally they are just bizarre.  For example, one evening, about midnight:15, I saw a woman beneath a candlelit overpass, just hula-hooping.  Like you typically do on a Tuesday.

Some of my writings in my pocket journal I took on trips tend to be like that, in a usable story form.  Other times they are scant, difficult to read notes  Difficult to read both because I usually wrote on a bus  whose driving style you could term "runaway," and because I often just scribbled a few words that make sense in so few contexts it is ridiculous.  Like this following gem from my trip to Krabi:

"Left @ 8pm.  Watching some Stephen Baldwin vehicle.  Shoot the Duke.  Urge to buy vest with plentiful pockets."

Seriously, what the dickens was happening there.  I wish that were a one-time occurrence.

Sometimes, I would write something that was neither exotic, nor truly on-point.  Worth mentioning?  Probably not.  But some of these things are actually pretty good ideas.

"Sun, March 11, 2012
I've formulated an ingenious new strategy, whereby I use hot soup to wash a dirty bowl -- while eating it!  Renaissance man."

A final thought on neatness:

"I've found that 'cleaning up' often entails hiding dirty laundry in unexpected places."

Take what you will from the writings I have shared with you today (and possibly more from the writings I haven't shared), but know that this has been a truly life-changing experience, perhaps best illustrated by my last chicken scratches in my notebook, made only a few days ago:

"The goal of life/symbol of success = more independence.
The goal of spiritual life = more dependence."

The pages of writings and the gigabytes of photos I have attained on this journey don't hold a candle to the friends I have made and the experiences I have had.  Thanks for following along, those of you who have.