Sweet Homesickness....

The past few days have left me with a "hangover". No, I have not been drinking. The hangover is a result of too much American culture, too much, too much. I feel burned out. It's sucking the energy out of me.

Every now and then, I need to escape it. Sometimes that can be difficult when, naturally, the TV, the radio, the Internet and the people who surround me are all quite saturated in it. Marinated might be a better word.

It's times like that when I transport myself to Khon Kaen. When I try hard enough, I can even recall some of the smells. That spicy, hot smell of chicken over an open grill. The scent of the plants that mingle with the cooking. There's something in the air.

I can almost taste the food. Although I have spent the past hour making curry chicken with rice, it's not the same. I can't quite re-create it.

When I turn on the music, it takes me to the waterfall. It was awe-inspiring and that day, it didn't matter if I died right on the spot. As far as I was concerned, I'd seen the greatest beauty this world had to offer.

But, of course, there is something far more important to recapture. Words escape me to describe it. It's the tether that binds me to that place, the earth that roots my feet.

And sometimes I know it could be the ugliest place on this planet and I'd feel the same. It's not just the geographic beauty that holds me. It's something much more.

The ease in everyday interactions. I miss the smiles. I miss the purposeful strides of people on the street who have no aggression. I miss the warm-hearted courtesy. I miss the Khon Kaen Night Market. Oh, I spent way too much money there and elsewhere, too many times. I wear some of the jewelry to this day.

One of the things I loved most are the small, spontaneous gatherings that would take place, especially near the university. There was usually food present. Someone would yell out, "come sit with us!" The open-hearted friendliness was breath-taking at times.

We would chat. There was always someone or two who spoke English and I can belch out a little Thai if it's absolutely necessary. Broken Thai. Grammatically incorrect Thai ~ but that and some good sign-language always works. Time would pass. We would share ideas, talking about all nature of things. No pretenses. These were probably people similar to me, the assorted oddballs and eccentrics. It didn't take long for us to get past our differences. I was no longer "farang". They were no longer "Thai". We were just people.

I loved all of them. I didn't even know their names but I can see their faces.

Hours would pass. And there was nothing else but that very moment ~ complete strangers discussing everything from the meaning of life to music to food to ....

It didn't matter. I was home. By then, I knew it.


Peace,

~Chani