There’s another side to travel that people who don’t do it often, don’t really know about….coming home.

Reverse culture shock is an actual thing. After being on the road, or getting used to a country’s way of life, there is an adjustment period that takes place when you arrive back ‘home’.

There’s an unspoken bond among travellers, those who truly have it as a lifestyle for a period of time. We get the idea and understand the inevitable stress related to attaching and detaching to a place. When we come home, there is a psychological adjustment that has to take place.

When home, though most people from the outside see it as the place where you can chill, it’s mentally chaotic for a little while. Varying side effects can include anxiety, depression (raises hand), feelings of being in a dream, disconnection from that once normal, disgust for that once normal, loneliness, and paranoia at all the new people who have popped up out of your ass apparently curious to see what you’ve been up to. It’s a mind fuck. Apparently mine has been conjured up along with the holiday spirit.

What has me the most warped right now is that I realize that of those people that I consider to be best friends…people I can do the ugly cry in front of, yet still love me in the morning, about 95% of those people are scattered around the world. It’s a bit of a hard pill to swallow, especially in New York. I always say New York has one of the highest populations of a city in America, yet you can feel like the lonliest soul walking these streets sometimes.

I don’t run in a pack. Extrovert with very introverted tendencies. Yet, I miss the allure of friends. Of all the places I’ve been, New York is probably where I spend the most time by myself. The photo above shows what was nearly an every weekend occurance when I lived in Japan. Thailand…shit I lived in a house with five other people, enough said. Even my small bouts of time in other countries, you mingle and have a good time with people on that same personal journey as you. I find the hardest struggle in this area to be when I’m home. My phone can not ring.

Acquaintances and networks are one thing. But when you need substance, you need your friends. So my heart reaches out to Ferndale, Michigan; Calhoun, Louisiana; Madrid, Spain; London, UK; Niigata, Japan;Sydney, Australia, as well as New Rochelle, Yonkers, Bronx, and Poughkeepsie.

It’s sinking in…I’m really home.

This week represents something that has been in the making for two years.

It’s the first time in two years that I’ve been home for the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. the entire season. Family, friends, boyfriend, pets, the ‘neighborhood’. It all comes alive.

New York City, during Christmas is nothing less than angelic.

Thanksgiving boasts it’s Macy’s parade. Carols sneak their way into elaborate store front displays. Ice skating becomes the exercise of choice in Bryant Park and Rockefellar Center. It’s just the vibe.

2 years in the making… Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I missed Loi Krathong. Honestly, out of EVERYTHING I wanted to see in Thailand, but knew I would miss by leaving early, this was that one thing that hit the hardest. I’d been excited about going to Loi Krathong, since hearing about it. Well, it’s night in Thailand right now and I know the guys there are having an awakening while watching tens of thousands of lanterns float up into the sky.

It has to be such a spiritual experience, and something I would consider bopping back into Thailand at some point to experience in person.

I hope the Jet Set Zero crew enjoys it thoroughly tonight. Wish I was there, but happy I’m here.

I also hope they are more successful than we were, trying to set off lanterns, when I was there.

Remember me and Jeremiah?

Crying is actually my default stress relief. When I have had no more, I’ve reached my brink, and emotions are at a high, I cry.

I’m not good at this saying goodbye piece. Never have been, never will be. I have trouble letting go, and wish I could take everyone and everything I’ve ever come across with me for life. I’ve been in the middle of a week long goodbye. It’s a lot. Bittersweet as it is, I stand by my decision to leave the show, and Thailand, early. Approaching the 8 week mark, of 12 weeks, I left Thailand.

Another day, another blog, I’m sure the details will come out. Today is not about the goodies. It’s about the love. All that needs to be known for the moment is that, for a number of reasons, it was time for me to head stateside.

I knew the day would be difficult. From finding out last minute (the night before) that I’d be leaving, I knew it was going to run me through the ringer emotionally, and it has. It was hard for me to look Jean-Pierre and Jeremiah in the face, for fears I would collapse into tears at the very sight of their eyes. I genuinely love these two. I may have the front on now, but my heart aches, not for leaving Thailand, or the project, but specifically for leaving them. They are what matters right now, on this side.

I think to the dinner they made for me the other night, and how much their actions of love transferred through their hearts and into my belly. That sounds gross but you get what I mean. I can’t say enough positive things about both these men, and I am beyond grateful to have been able to truly offer them the title “friend”. Friend to me, is as important as saying ‘love’ or ‘trust’. Both of which I have for them.

One of the conversations I was dreading was that to be had with Thai Mom and Dad.

I knew, walking into it, I was going to end up as a lost cause. In the security of one of their guest houses, they sat me down in what looked to be a double therapy session.

“What happened? Why you leave?” This was repeated. I wanted nothing more than to stop myself from crying, because I know it worried them. I tried to explain that I cry because I am sad, but nothing bad has happened. Mom doesn’t really play that though. She’s yelled at the guys, on my behalf, for letting me walk into town alone…when it was really absolutely fine. She’s made sure I was fed. Dr. Cosi drove me to and from hospitals and constantly checked up on me during the recovery of Dengue Fever. This has been a legit Thai home. I don’t know what has left more of an impression, his care, or the words he left me with today.

“If you really feel I am like your father, and she like your mother, then I want to say something as like my child. When you grow into adult, sometimes you have to make a decision and not look back. You have to just keep straight if it is right for you.” I needed to hear that more than he knew.

I apologized to the men of the house, in advance. I tried to calm their worries, but when Mom stops sending you free food, you’ll know why.

Their daughter is a travel agent and even scored my cheap last minute flight to take care of the leg I was missing from Bangkok to Hong Kong. Again, love. I’m surrounded by it, and grateful for it.

To these gentlemen, this house, Thai Mom and Dad, and Thailand…you have been a gracious host. I adore you for the hospitality, the learning about others and myself, as well as the very newfound appreciation I have for the concrete jungle I’ve returned to.

Ka pun ka! (Thank you!)

I’m out…

See any familiar faces?

Oh, how our mug shots are so alluring…

If I recall correctly, Jean-Pierre pulled that shirt out of a bag, and had to borrow the tie.

We were so prepared for our close-ups…..NOT! Who cares, the kids love us!

It’s innately apparent that the women in Thailand have a sense of self, and tradition. When out of the cities, away from the prostitution, and in the lives of the true Thai women, there is an unyielding pride. There is a sense of protection, as well.

While sick, Thai Dad helped me out tremendously. The day my health was at its worse, he was waiting on me outside of the house, checking up every so often, and bringing food. His need to protect enraptured my sick body, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it. It was during this time I learned a lesson about Thai house protocol.

“In Thailand, it’s disrespect for another man to walk into a woman’s house. We must stay at the door,” he explained.

This started to make sense as Thai Mom would prance in and out with the freedom of someone who owned the property, as her sister did. Thai Dad, on the other hand, always kept his distance. Popular for his front “porch” conversations, he didn’t really enter the house.

That day, he continued, “But when you sick, it’s OK. I will come inside to help you, if you need.”Enter the protector.

From the first day we met Thai Mom, the power that radiated from her was infectious. I still don’t know if the men of the house picked up on it, but I sure as hell did. She’s as nurturing as she is nurtured by her husband.

It was she who aggressively confirmed, before the housemates had spoken amongst themselves, that the female is to be protected and have her own room, with a bed. There was no discussion. It was she who would worry, and interrogate the men, if she saw me walking anywhere alone along the side streets. It was she who really sparked my interest in exploring this strength that, many times, women in other countries lack. Something, at times, I know I definitely lack. Thailand understands and reveres the matriarch for her role in the household, and in the community.

Was it just Thai Mom? I explored this budding theology with a female friend who’d traveled around South East Asia a few months back.

Megan spoke of an incident on a train in which she and Kennedy were being harassed by a Thai man. The Thai women on the train created a human wall to separate the man from them, while another woman notified the police.
They don’t play that here!

Of course, my experience is genuine to what my eyes have seen, ears have heard, and heart has felt, but this is something that was consistent with the entire trip.

As a woman, it feels good to see others who don’t dumb down their role to appease or become one of the guys. They’re women, strong and weak, emotional and logical, free and protected… unapologetic.
For this, I thank every one of them.

This particular day at work, Jean-Pierre and I had a four hour break in between classes. In the past, we’ve gone home and chilled out for a few hours, but today adventure was in the air. Where I thought we were simply headed for a joy ride towards some hot springs, Jean-Pierre was on a personal mission to find the legend, in Chiang Mai, known as Crazy Horse.

Coming from New York, I have a lot of friends that are involved in an array of hobbies. Jean-Pierre is the first ever rock climber in my circle of friends. He’s a beast on these rocks! His excitement, almost immediately, became my excitement. I knew, looking up at that rock, that I’d be witnessing JP climb up it. It was only a matter of time.

So, while riding into the jungle route, on a dirt road, re-remembering “Oh shit, I am in Thailand,” we ran into these three women from Colorado. Of course! We all got to talking and they started spitting out words and rock terminology that only rang a bell in remembering former childhood episodes of “Guts”. It was dope!

I’m very happy for him. I’m happy for all of us to find our outlets, that keep us centered back home, here. It’s just as important as finding new things here that encourage happiness. Jeremiah loves music…karaoke is his thing. As it should be, he has an amazing voice. I happen to be a writer. Sitting somewhere secluded and writing for hours brings me pleasure that many never know. Jean-Pierre is a climber. It’s in his blood. I can only respect and admire that.

So, as we spoke to these women, and as I watched one ascend and descend the rock, I could feel JP’s eyes glaring.

“He wants me to try this,” I said to myself. The weird thing was, watching the women, and JP free climb just to get a “feel” for the rock, sparked my interest as well. What is happening to me? Have I been hanging around this man too much?

Sometimes local noodle dishes just won’t do, and you need KFC to fulfill the urge…

Sometimes walking through a street market won’t suffice, and you end up walking through a five level mall instead…

Sometimes forgetting you’re in Thailand, is exactly what you need to clear your mind to get back to it…

Sometimes bugging out in a photo booth with one of your best friends is what the doctor ordered…

Even Dengue cant front on that!

(Jeremiah one day you will forgive me for posting these photos up on the internet!)

Tonight was one of those nights where you know the Universe is working with you.

The plan was to walk as far back home, from downtown, as possible (until we’d had enough) then either hail a tuk tuk or hitch hike the rest of the way.

As soon as we hit the bridge, a much noted checkpoint on our journeys home, we spotted two women with what appeared to be lanterns, signifying the approach of Chiang Mai’s famed Loi Krathong Festival. We’ve only seen a few of the lanterns, in the distance, since arriving in Chiang Mai. They glisten like huge, individual suns with their own path through the darkness of night.

Both Jeremiah and my curiosities were surrounding these women.

How do you get them in the air? How do they glow? What are they made of? How do hundreds, maybe thousands, of them occupy the sky at the same time?

Tonight, we found out! After this video was shot, the two women drove Jeremiah and I home on their motorbikes. They refused our money and took our thank you as all the  compensation they needed.

Great night…

Twenty hours, two countries, and seven Muay Thai fights later, we were able to rest.

Yesterday was a great day for the record books and memory bank. Jeremiah and I started off at 5am headed to Burma so we could get another two week extension to our expired visas. The ride, in reality, wasn’t that bad. The border crossing was much smoother than what I went through in Cambodia. Having company there also made it more pleasant. Always nice hanging out with Jeremiah.

The previous day, I made it known to the crew that I wanted to hit up a Muay Thai fight. I’d been sitting on it for awhile. It was the one promise I made to my boyfriend; attend and shoot a Muay Thai fight. My interest was sparked from the beginning really. I personally have always had an affinity for kickboxing.

Jean-Pierre, Jeremiah, Bogdan, and I bonded last night over some round houses, bloody noses, and several weight classes. Seven fights took place last night, including a female round, and ‘Special Fights’ round that included four blind-folded boxers going at each other simultaneously. Weight classes ranged from 100 lbs, to the Main Event at 168 pounds, a Thai local vs. a Frenchman.

During the female round, I left the crew to stand with the Thai men that were ringside. The energy from the women was infectious, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I wondered how I would be in the ring. Could I handle the brutality, while respecting the fact that it is, in deed, an art form? One I respect very much.

Hitting me that both Jeremiah and I had been up since around 5am and traveled so far via bus, my eye lids proved to become heavy during the final round. That is, until, the fight ended in the Frenchman’s win, and the ENTIRE corner that was cheering on the Thai boxer had left him stranded to leave the ring on his own. We’re talking, holding onto the ring, not able to stand up straight, seeing circles, and sliding down the steps…alone. It was great. Thanks fellas!

PS. The chicks rocked it! More photos seen HERE!

PPS. There are videos. Many video clips. I was just anxious to get this out. Stay tuned if this is your kind of thing…