And Suddenly, I'm Sure Of Nothing.

Do you sometimes get confused when the road of your life takes a huge and swinging turn? Do you wish you could peek around the corner and make sure things will work out in the end? Do you ever wake up and think about the plans you made for yourself, plans you were sure of, and suddenly panic and realize that you simply need to do something radically different and wonder if you were ever really sure about anything at all? Do you sometimes think about putting on your shoes and stepping out of your front door and going on a walk that lasts forever and from which you never fully come home? Because I do. And I don't think I'm the only one. Sometimes I want to keep my crazy thoughts to myself and not write them here for you all to read, but perhaps candor is the best medicine at times such as this. And I already have a blog and everything. Let's have a heart-to-heart, readers. I was so homesick for the last part of my time in Thailand, and I thought "home" would be partly when I arrived in New York, and then finally complete when I returned to Bozeman. But I've been here with family and friends for nearly two weeks, and while it was necessary for the recharging of my spirit, I'm ready to leave again for another unknown destination, and even though I want to, I don't feel the need to go back to Bozeman yet. Or go to school in the fall. I was so sure about attending school at MSU; I was even sure what I wanted to major in and what I wanted to do with my life after I graduated. But one day I woke up, and thought about attending freshman orientation, and registering for classes, and sitting in those classes, and being on a campus (albeit a beautiful one), and spending four years spending all my money and taking out the large loans I will obviously need, and I burst into tears. I panicked. I don't want to go. Eventually, I do. I want a college degree in an area of work that I am passionate about, but I don't know if I can handle that right now. I just want to GO. I want to continue living out of my backpack and living new lifestyles. I want to wander. I'm coming back to Bozeman, and I'll make my decision after I've had some time to think things through. Maybe I'll see attending school differently when I'm finally readjusted to stationary life in Montana. I don't want to rush into things. I've found it's most dangerous to rush into the things we most want to rush into. And I won't tell the wispy but promising plans that are taking shape for my future. But I am suddenly rearranging all the plans I made; shuffling some back into the future, moving some up to the front, making a few new ones, and tearing a few up all together. Caught in a suddent fit of restlessness and anxiety, I wrote my first-ever bucket list. It's huge. I want to do everything. I scrawled across two pages of my journal with some of the top items of importance. I think I need to go more and do more before I can do much else. I don't know. I'll be pacing the floors and making secret plans, and I'll try to keep you posted. Also, I'll be home in less than one week. And that's a little frightening.

I'm A Wreck Now.

I am back in the US of A. I am so surrounded by love and well-wishes here in my home town of Dryden, NY. It's so strange to see that I'm not the only one who's grown up. All my childhood friends are adults now, and the only thing weirder than that is the fact that I am too. I thought I would feel so well rested and relaxed when I arrived, but so far that has not been the case. My travel time from Bankok to Syracuse, NY, was 30 hours. I left on the 15th, and saw two sunrises, and two sunsets, but when I arrived, it was still the 15th. I couldn't believe it. I slept for around 14 hours on my first night at my grandma's house, in the most comfortable bed on earth. The next night, I only slept for 3 hours, the next night, I slept for 13. In the daytime, my body tells me to go to sleep, and at night it seems like a good time to start the day. So I'm exhausted. All the time. But worse than the physical part of what's happening, is what in the heck is going on with my head. I am happy, I feel safe and loved, but despite this, I find myself bursting into tears at strange times and fo no reason, and I feel so overwhelmed in this tiny and beautiful town, and can't find the strength to go out and see people who want to see me. It's absurd. I spent nearly a week in Bangkok, one of the craziest cities on the globe, and I was fine. Here, I have mentel breakdowns several times a day and can't seem to function properly. This afternoon I arrived home from a wonderful day with my mom and my grandmother, and laid down on the couch. After an hour, I started crying, and had to go bed for three hours because I just couldn't pull myself together. I don't know. I have a guess, but it doesn't make much sense. I think all the things I've done are finally catching up with me. I've been on my own for 8 weeks, and whether I wanted to or not, I had to make all the plans and all the descisions by myself. I was doing so much, seeing so much, and keeping my guard up all the time. Now I'm safe. And I guess I'm worn out. The wheather here is so beautiful. I can actually be outside without feeling like I'm going to melt or throw up or sweat myself to death. I go on a walk every morning, and I think it's the happiest part of my day. The air is fresh and clean, the sun in warm but not oppressive, and I have so much space to just wander and be happy. By around 3 I'm exhausted, and by dinner time I can hardly stay awake. In about a week I will take the train back to Bozeman, and probably go through this all over again. However, this time with old friends and family has been such a blessing, and I can't wait to reconnect with all my friends in Montana. I just had to write this stuff down, I was hoping it would help me sort things out. Thanks for reading, for the past few months, and again now.        

Thailand, Thank You.

Tomorrow morning at 6am I leave Thai soil and head for New York. I could never fully explain how important these past few months have been for me, but for the sake of you reading, I'll try. I left Bozeman feeling clueless and overwhelmed. I was only two months younger than I am now, but honestly, it feels like years. I bid farewell to my tearful parents and walked through airport security with no idea what this trip would bring or what kind of situations I would face. When I got landed in Bangkok, I took a cab for the first time in my life, to get to a spartan and lonely hotel room that had two rock solid beds and only one of me. I was terrified and so lonely that night. I felt like a lost little kid, who wandered too far down the street and can't see her front porch anymore. Things have changed so much since then. Two months later I'm in Bangkok by myself, beating back the absurdly obnoxious and rude tuk-tuk drivers, and finding the absolute best and cheapest street food stalls. Thailand has made me into the person I had always hoped to be, but hadn't actually had enough courage to be. When I was working on the farm near Sikhiu, I had the revelation one night when I was feeling rather down, that I can do absolutely whatever I want and be absolutely whoever I choose to be. This really made a difference with how I see myself and how I make decisions. From that point on I felt so free.

When I went to Laos, I met so many great people and other travelers. While I was there, I also started staying in budget dorms. The idea of budget dorms is kind of funny; sharing a bedroom with complete strangers for undecided amounts of time. It's kind of funny, but my dorm experiences (with a few exceptions) are uncannily similar. I usually got put in the last dorm on the highest floor up no less than four flights of stairs, and when I arrived I always wondered if the put me in a men's dorms, because I was almost always the only female in the room. This sounds rather sketchy, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that every room I stayed in was occupied only by perfect gentlemen who were usually down for a big dinner and a beer, which meant I didn't have to wander around and eat by myself. I much prefer dorms to hotel rooms, as I have been quite lonely in hotel rooms. This trip has really forced me to stop being shy and self-conscious, which I have tried and failed to do many times in the past. It's also taught me to trust my heart, and just go with the adventure. Sometimes, I was really scared. But I had no choice but to keep going and work things out by myself. I also have learned to accept myself the way I am. I've spent the past few months looking like an absolute wreck, and at first this really bothered me, but by this point I've accepted the fact that sometimes, I will look ugly and sweaty and sunburned, and that's okay. Sometimes all I'll have to wear is dirty laundry that smells like armpits and petrol, and feet will be coated in a permanent coat of dust and grime, and that's okay too. I feel really at peace now, almost no matter where I am.

Most of all, this trip has made me brave. I thought I was brave when I left, but just making brave decisions doesn't make a person brave. I made the brave decision to travel by myself, but on the day before I left, I was a mess with fear.  Now, I can say that I am truly brave. I've been out in big cities at night, I've been lost in so many cities and towns, I've gone out for drinks with strangers, crashed a motorbike in the mountains, climbed waterfalls, gotten tattoos back-alley shops, and lived in a shack with giant spiders. I'm not scared anymore. There are still a few things that scare me, like going insane and being buried alive, but the general fear of doing risky stuff is gone. For this, I thank Thailand, God, and all the amazing people I've met along this journey. Many people travel to "find themselves," but I think you learn more when you leave already knowing who you are. I've loved this experience, and I'm ready to come home. I leave for New York in about 18 hours, and after that I'll be back to good old Bozeman in about two weeks. Kop-kuhn-ka, Thailand. It's been grand.

Homesickness. adjective.

Homesick:

adjective

sad or depressed from a longing for home or family while away from them for a long time.

Also, a condition that comes on suddenly, when you think of the way your own bed feels, or the evenings with your family that you took for granted, that feels like a kick in the guts and doesn't leave you alone.

 

I wasn't homesick until this past week. The thought really didn't cross my mind for the first month of my travels. But when the friend I was traveling with left, and I was by myself again, I really started to feel it. Of course, the saying is true "You're never really alone when you travel alone," but I grow tired of brief friendships and friendly acquaintances for company. I grow tired of eating alone, of going on adventures with no one to share them with me, and of eating alone when I must. Eating alone is a really sad thing, and it always makes me feel uncomfortable. In Pai, I had a lot of solitude. As a result, I became quite homesick and depressed. All the things I never knew I would miss suddenly brought tears to my eyes when I thought of them. Here listed below are some of those things.

 

Dinner with my family. As I skipped dinner and walked back to my bungalow in the rain, I thought about family dinner. How amazing is a dinner with family?! How could I ever have taken it for granted? I have been craving a  barbecue night, with burgers on the grill, corn on the cob, coleslaw, and a can of baked beans. More than the food, however, I crave the company and conversation of my family. We laugh so much, and someone always seems to have a hilarious story to share. When I get home, a family dinner is my first priority.

 

My own bed. When I can't sleep in some uncomfortable budget dorm, I close my eyes and pretend that I'm in my own bed, with my own sheets, pillows, and blankets. They smell like my house, and candles, and laundry, not like someone who stayed there before me. There is something so comforting about ones own bed, which I never really realized until I started staying in so many hostels. 

 

Toilet paper. I know this one is dumb, but I am starting to miss the comforts of home. If you want toilet paper in Thailand, you have to buy it yourself, and carry it with you. The same goes for soap. 

Mountains. It's strange how much a person Identifies his or her self by their surroundings. When My plane flies over the Bridgers, my heart will do little home coming dance. I miss the strong wind and crisp clean air of the mountains, and their reassuring presence when I see them every morning. 

 

Even though I am homesick, I am so appreciative of this trip and all the experiences and knowledge it has brought me. It has opened my mind to so many people and so many different ways of life. This is my last week in Thailand. I can't believe it. I leave for Bangkok tonight on MY LAST NIGHTBUS of the trip, and I'll spend my my last few days being a quintessential backpacker around the Khaosan road. 

Bamboo Tattoo On a Whim.

Since I don't want to write out the history right now, here is a concise explanation of the history of bamboo tattoos: http://www.bambootattoo.co.uk/history-of-bamboo-tattoo.php
As soon as I heard about bamboo tattooing in Thailand, I thought it sounded like something I should definitely try. Since I've been in Pai, I've seen about 5 bamboo tattoo parlors. So yesterday I picked one, got a price estimate, and made an appointment for today. Today I went to my appointment, and the fun began. The design I got is the Thai writing for "chok dee," or, good luck, in Thai. It's something that I've said and that's been said to me often, and it will always remind me of this awesome adventure. They got everything ready, took plenty of time to align the tattoo perfectly, and then prepared the bamboo. Bamboo tattoo is a lot gentler than normal tattooing with a gun. They use a thin bamboo stick with some tiny needles attached to the end. They tap the skin with these tiny needles, and it doesn't bleed or scab. My tattoo artist was a large, friendly Thai wearing reading glasses, and naturally, covered in tattoos. He was assisted by his lovely wife, a sweet lady with a lot of facial piercings. The whole thing took about one half hour. It hurt a little, but not bad at all. Like a pinching and a little burning. I would post a picture if I could, but since I can't, Just believe me when I say it looks awesome and I love it. After two hours, it already looked completely healed. If you go to Thailand, or somewhere else in SE Asia, I definitely recommend the bamboo tattoo experience. Plus, it only cost me about 40USD. 

So, I Crashed The Motorbike...

Today, I decided to go on an adventure. I left my bungalow in the morning, and after a big breakfast, I went straight to the motorbike rental company. "You drive before?" they asked. "Yes," I said, which was kind of true, since I had had a five minute driving lesson in a field a week before in Chiang Mai. I got the bike, and drove around until I found the petrol station. With a full water bottle and a full tank of petrol, I was ready to head into the misty mountains. I drove for about an hour up a hill and through tiny villages and found my way to a few lovely little waterfalls, where I spent a few happy hours climbing and splashing and generally having a great time. I left, and when I reached Pai again, I chose a direction and started driving. After a while, I turned onto a long, winding, crazy mountain pass. I drove this for about a half hour, and was finally starting to feel confident about my driving and turning and whatnot. Pride cometh before the fall. Literally. I crashed the motorbike. I had turned around, and was cruising down the mountain and feeling super cool. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I was taking a steep downhill curve and suddenly I couldn't remember how to drive. I  knew I should hit the brakes, but I couldn't remember how in that moment, and I knew I should turn the handlebars, but I couldn't move. I looked straight ahead, and the bike crashed headlong into a cement post on the inside of the curve. Don't worry mom and dad, I was wearing a helmet, and good thing too, because I was thrown from the bike into the road, where my rage doll body landed flat, my head hitting the ground with a thunk. God kept my safe then, there's no other way to explain the fact that I didn't have a scratch or bruise, not even a headache where my head had smacked against the ground. I scrambled to my feet, and back to the bike, turning off the engine. The bike was heavy. and it was partly stuck in the loose sand at the side of the road. I couldn't right it by myself. Just when I was starting to exhaust myself, a man in a truck drove by and stopped in the middle of the road. He didn't speak any English, but he helped me pull my heavy bike out of the ditch and waited until I started it to get back in his truck. He stood there awhile, staring at me. I think he wanted to ask me if I was okay, or maybe HOW I was okay. I don't know if he saw to fall onto the road or not. I wasn't shaken up, I didn't have a scratch, and my bike still worked fine. Just a big crack in the front fender and a few scratches on the rest of the bike. That could have been really bad. I am so thankful that I was kept safe. As soon as I started to drive away, it started to rain. Hard. I arrived at the next waterfall on my map soaking wet and feeling exhausted. I rested there awhile, and climbed around on some of the rocks. I looked for my sunglasses case in my purse, and found it, smashed flat from when I hit the road. As I was leaving and pulling out onto the extremely steep and slippery road, I lost control of the bike, and wouldn't you know it, the damn thing tipped over on me. ONTO me. I got my leg free and moved just in time, because the bike started sliding down. I wanted to cry. Just sit down and cry. But I didn't have that option, and so I tried to get some traction on that hill, and began the difficult task of lifting the bike a rolling it to the flat spot 20ft down the road. I was out of breath, my arms were exhausted, and my feet were slipping, but I couldn't give up, and eventually I  made it to the flat spot. I sat on the seat of the bike and waited for my hands to stop shaking. I started the bike, and drove back to the rental company. Take this devil machine away from me. I have a few bruises on my leg from where the bike almost squashed it, but I was extremely lucky. I wanted an adventure, but I got more of one than I had bargained for. I think I'll take a break from driving for awhile.

In Pai Now

Praise the Lord, I made to Pai! It was honestly a pretty rough journey, even though it only took four hours. I was picked up from my guesthouse by a sangthaew (song-tao) full of other backpackers, which took us to our minibus. Once every seat was occupied and our enormous and way too heavy packs were loaded, they sealed in the air and away we went. The road to Pai is the swerviest, curviest, craziest road I've ever been on; it was like a slow roller coaster that lasted four hours. After one half hour, I was already carsick. After three hours, I thought I was going to have to break the air-seal and vomit out the window. I sat in the miserable state of motion sick people, arms crossed around my stomach, and laying forward over my legs. Every time I opened my eyes and looked out the window my stomach whirled and spun, and I started to get cold and sweaty. On both sides of every hairpin turn were walls of bright green foliage, with no break and nothing to focus my eyes on. We arrived in Pai just in time, because I thought I might have to cry or vomit very soon. I carried my pack across one of the rickety bamboo bridges across a small river, and checked into a charmingly shabby bungalow, one of many on the property owned by a kind and hospitable transvestite. I'm not really sure what to do with my time here yet, but I think I'll have no problem spending a week here. Pai was previously described to me as a beach town without a beach. We'll see how it goes.

Visas Are Dumb

So, I had a super fun day today. It was spent sweating my face off at the Chiang Mai immigration office. My visa was set to expire on June 9th, but I'm not leaving Thailand until the 15th, so this was a problem. I was naive, however, and thought that I could trust the guidebooks and travel blogs; they told me visa extension was easily and relatively fast. They lied. I arrived by tuk-tuk at 10am, thinking I would only be there for two hours. I made my way to the visa office, to discover that it was positively bursting at the seams with people from every place a person could be from. There were Indian, Swiss, German, Canadian, Ukrainian, Cambodian, American, Australian, and Russian, just to name a few. The line to receive a queue number extended through the doors, and was practically five people deep, with everyone pushing and shoving and elbowing each other for no reason other than claustrophobia. I waited in the queue line twice, and when I finally got my number, it wasn't a visa extension number, so I had to start over. By this time it was about 11am, and I took a seat to wait. And wait. AND wait. By 1pm they had only gotten to number 51. I was number 86. At this time the staff took a lunch break, which took about a half an hour. I also had to get photos taken, because apparently a passport sized photo just doesn't work for the blank space on the form that says PASSPORT PHOTO. These are pictures that I sincerely hope no one has to see. Ever. Taken after 3 sweaty hours of waiting, they are really pretty awful. Anyway, I spent a lot of time people-watching while I was waiting, and a discovered something: absolutely no one likes going to the immigration office. Everyone looked tired, impatient, hungry, and bored. So we were all in the same boat, which made me feel a little bit better. I met a guy from Canada, he was number 87. We passed the time telling our funniest travel stories and talking about our home towns. Finally, at 3pm, they called our numbers. I practically climbed over the people in front of me to get to the counter, I was so excited to get out of there. They spent some time smashing stamps onto my passport, and then I paid them, and they set my passport in a stack of others to wait a little longer. I think the workers there release their anger and frustration by stamping. They punch it into the ink pad a few times, and the slam it onto the passport a few more times. Finally, at 4:30pm, I received my renewed visa and passport, and did a little jig on the sidewalk as I left. That is something I am really glad to only have to do once. So tomorrow, FOR REAL, I will leave for Pai. I bought a kilo of mangosteen, and I am ready for the twisty-turny carsick journey to a few relaxing days in Pai. Thanks for reading about my visa day, I'll update from Pai as soon as I find some internet.

Quick, Boring Post

Ladies and gentlemen, I am freaking exhausted, and I look horrible, but rest assured, I am really happy. I've been spending most of my time with a German friend that I met in Luang Prabang, Laos, about a week ago. It has been really nice to make a friend and take a break from travelling alone. Plus, there's a lot of things to do while traveling that are just a lot more fun with friends. In the past week I've been ziplining, gone cave-exploring, been to many a good bar, explored the zoo, learned to drive a motor bike, climbed and waded through waterfalls, and had more noodle soups and fruit shakes that I could count. Plus, I helped him choose souvenirs for his girlfriend and family, so I'd say I'm pretty helpful, even though I can't find my way back to the guesthouse most of the time and I can't give directions to anyone. The past week has been exhausting, but so awesome. My time in Chiang Mai has definitely been a hilight to the trip. I only have 13 more days left in SE Asia. The time has flown by, but at the same time, I feel like I've been gone for years. It's strange how time works when we're away. I can't believe I only turned 18 less than 2 months ago. I feel like I've aged years in that time. When people ask me my age, it takes just a moment longer than it should to say "I'm 18." I feel like I should be at least 20, high school seems like forever ago, when it was only a year ago. I haven't met anyone my own age so far, which is crazy, because I've been meeting other travelers for almost 2 months. Coming home might be hard. I'm honestly pretty nervous. I will have to find a place to live near MSU, and find another job. I can't hail a tuk-tuk, go out to a cool bar with new friends from other countries, or wear my dirty laundry for a week, and never style my hair or put on makeup. Things will be expensive again, and I'll have to pay in dollars. However, there are some things about home that I am just so excited for. First of all, steak. I am really craving a steak. And snowy mountains and cold nights, and eating apples and peanut butter on the back porch on lazy summer days, and taking some time out of every day to give my dog, Hank, a hug that he will not appreciate. And my friends and family, I'm really starting to miss them. I also miss being able to walk outside without being drenched in sweat and covered with mosquito bites within 10 minutes. Basically, part of me is excited to come home, and a slightly bigger part of me wants to just keep traveling for a very long time. I really love this way of life. Anyway, this isn't a very good post, but I'll do one of those later. There is just to much going on and being thought about right now. I miss you, reading people, and even though it doesn't seem true, I'll be home in a month.