And here I am, having nearly reached that point. I don't have a clue where in that maze-of-a-building I stored that stainless steel wok, but it doesn't even matter to me. I'll find it when I find it. The reasons and results of why I packed that wok (and everything else I own) are the things that matter and they've become the newly constructed aspects of myself that I could've never built at home.
The Reasons...
Many people get tangled up in the fanciful notion of travel and its fairytale appeal. Its seemingly unattainable charm becomes akin to our many other unique collections, like our vintage vinyl record collection or autographed baseballs in glass cases. The colored tacks on our map are the same, but they're only locations until we can make something unique of our time spent there.
Having only been out of the country twice beforehand, I don't considered myself particularly "well traveled" when I booked a ticket to Thailand. The term is relative, really. You may do something as cliche as a week in London or as adventurous as a transcontinental bike trail or as ambitious as spending a year in Nepal, but the question remains. Did you "travel well?" Can someone say you left some mark other than the "flag" you planted on your map? If so, you are well-travelled. Can you say you went to that place to enrich and exchange cultures rather than checking it off your bucket list? If so, you are well-traveled.
These are the reasons I left. I wasn't running away from responsibility, escaping reality or avoiding adulthood, reasons unfairly branded on young travelers by those only envious. I wanted to do something wonderful. Philanthropy, in its obligatory sense, is not at all enticing. Working to get community service hours, a badge or a promotion is as altruistic as a text message donation. What I loved about this experience was the "hands-on" kindness, and quite truthfully, I bountifully received more than I could ever give.
Travel isn't selfish if that self-discovery is unearthed through humble service. It's no walk in the park. But once your reasons for travel surpass more than just personal gain, charm and showmanship, that's when the results pour in. And here, on the last leg of my journey, I am being showered with more sincere kindness and regretful farewells than I could've ever imagined.
The Results...
When Chelsea Lynn and I hopped on the jet to Thailand, we were mere acquaintances compared to now. In hindsight, it really was a risky thing, committing to traveling with someone for a year with how new our background of friendship was. Travel can make or break relationships, and I'm lucky to have been with someone who made it. I couldn't have asked for a more complimentary and dynamic travel buddy than Kelsey Crow. Although I may've forgotten a few jokes and now wish someone had been writing this year's hilarity into scripts, I'll never forget the strength of friendship they helped to form. Someone who made the fondest memories out of days so simple and someone who tolerated my quirks in such small living quarters deserves a lot more than a paragraph in my blog. This era in our lives is over, but I'm thankful for the foundation it has given and the bond it formed. I've not just come away with good memories, I've come away with a best friend and someone who knows me well enough to not only make fun of my quirks, but to be a true confidant. And from the bottom of my heart, I am forever appreciative.
Last week, I walked into my office to find a large, rolled poster on my desk. I removed the rubber band and unfurled papers taped together forming 2 yards of precious messages from one of my classes. Reading their quirky syntax and slightly misused grammar, I couldn't help but fight back the tears. "I wish you happy, healthy & smile," one read. Nuy said, "I'll remember you in my heart forever, good teacher." Another from Pare, one of my favorites, saying, "Thank you for hands and heart to make me wonder at English. First lesson, so funny & fantastic. You're sweet woman, so kind with smile like an angel. Don't forget me." I've been undeservingly lavished with these and so many other kind words like them. How could I forget? From the bottom of my heart, I am forever appreciative.
I enjoyed a lunch with my coworkers the other day, and as much as they confuse the heck out of me sometimes with their odd choice of words, lack of communication and scheduling, I just adore their hearts. At a table of 30 people, we were ceremoniously recognized, profusely thanked, asked to make speeches and were given our very own embroidered school shirt. Knowing we'd have a place, no only in the city but in the heart of its people, is such a comforting thing. From the bottom of my heart, I am forever grateful.
When I get on that plane, a tug of emotional war will most likely begin. Knowing my family is on the other side of that ocean waiting is what makes it easier. Though I valued them fiercely before, I've since learned their worth to be much more than I could have ever realized at home. They never once questioned my decisions, were impatient with my call to Thailand or skeptical about my future plans. They've never made me feel anything but solace regarding my decisions, and nothing comforts me more. They've always commended my search for the unbeaten path rather than question why I didn't follow convention, and they continue to bolster my morale each and every day with a love I can't begin to comprehend. From the bottom of my heart, I am forever appreciative.
Final exams were getting closer, and my last official day of teaching arrived with one of my dearest classes. I tried to make news of my departure be the jovial, "not goodbye, but see you soon" type of message, but it was hard to say those words knowing that in all honesty, I would probably never see these children again. Early high-school aged girls who were caught between the age of carefree childhood and clammed up adolescence were a challenging age. There were kids they said "I love you, teacha Jade!" on the first day, and there were those who only crept up to me for a shy photograph on the last day of class. I loved each one. Sometimes I would get caught up in the monotony of lessons or the frustrations of miscommunication, but when I took a step back to see the big picture, I realized that these kids wouldn't remember me as the teacher who taught them Adverbs of Frequency, they would look at me as the foreigner who loved them, tried desperately to learn their names, talked with them and showed them one-on-one affection amongst a sea of thousands of other students. Though some said "I love you, Jade!" from day one, I really think they meant it.
From the bottom of my heart, I am forever appreciative.
