A very overdue update.

I understand at the moment that I am an absolutely terrible blogger. Like absolutely, without a doubt, the worst there could possibly be. My intention to blog has become much like my intention to take crisp, clear photos on my expensive, perfect camera- utterly overwhelmed by my desire to do it all. Let me put it this way: when I go out to a wonderful little restaurant and crack open the menu only to find hundreds of the most mouth-watering foods imaginable, I take a polite look, salivate uncontrollably, and then continue to shut the menu. Too many delicious choices equals brain spazz which equals....abandon ship. That is what's happening here. Too many amazing experiences to blog about, too many incomparable photos to take...
too much for me to handle.

The past few weeks have been filled with, again, the most exemplary experiences of my life. Last week we went on a "home stay" to live with a Burmese refugee camp and provide labor and support in whichever areas they saw fit. After a seven hour (and incredibly crowded) car ride into the middle of what I can only describe as the set of Mighty Joe Young, we arrived at our destination in the most green, lush area I have ever had the privilege of visiting. This is where the biggest learning experience of my life begins.

As we all sat in a giant circle in the middle of an empty temple, we were told the story. These wonderfully kind-hearted people were practically forced to make their ways out of their homes, the only country they have ever known, in two thousand and one. Feeling as though their government was quickly turning corrupt after the lives of so many innocents were wrongfully taken, they fled with their children and belongings into the secure borders of Thailand. However, Thailand would only offer them a "temporary" refugee camp, meaning they do not receive many of the "privileges" that many villages in the area (privileges such as, you know, electricity) receive. They've been living in such a way for over ten years.

I stayed on the floor of a temple and in this camp for two nights before we moved along to the next area for the week, and it only took two nights and days of such intense living situations to nearly make me break down. I am a tough girl- and I have not exactly been living in a luxurious paradise for the past six weeks- but being denied the simplest of "every day" commonalities was enough to really make me re-evaluate. As I handed out old, tattered clothes to villagers of all ages and sizes, I really began to understand the extent of my blessings.

And yet, the people were of course as kind as could be. Treating us as if we were little nieces, nephews, or grandchildren, they took care of us and gave us a place to stay while we offered assistance. This temporary camp is not allowed visitors, so we were ushered into the temples at night to keep us safe, as temples are a place of sanctuary and cannot be touched by the government. The following days consisted of eating the daily "gatherings", making chalkboards, and sleeping on concrete while intertwined in the dusty fumes of mosquito nets.

Today is Thanksgiving, and just like my birthday and Halloween, I am constantly battling any slight feeling of homesickness with the intense gratitude of this experience. I know that everyone at home is eating turkey mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie (even typing that made my stomach flip in desire), but I am happy to report that this year, I enjoyed pumpkin curry with a very unique, and yet very real, type of family.

I only have two more days here at the Mirror Foundation, but I will leave that to an entire separate blog completely as I am currently distracted by friends and mosquitoes. No complaints.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Today and Everyday

The large, open window directly next to me at this quaint midtown bakery is proving to be a source of incredible, thought-provoking entertainment. Tourists with giant back-breaking backpacks (surely the current home of all of their possessions), small blue tuk-tuks that look like tiny beetles scooting about the highway, rows of bicycles and motorbikes lining the road, and a grand bus terminal accepting tourists and bringing them to their next adventures. 

I woke up this morning with an unfamiliar panic. A panic that I am certain I would never have felt in the States. The type of panic that is actually not a panic at all, but the source felt so strange and unfamiliar I had no idea how to respond to it. And here it is:

"What the heck am I going to do today? I have no plans!"

Can you believe that crap? I live my life at home, each and ever day, with a set schedule of tasks and to-do's. Lists are made, running tabs are kept in my head, and the constant thought of "man, am I exhausted" nags at me. Like so many around me, the idea of a task-less day is not only unfamiliar, it is completely alien. My day has been sprawled out in front of me as an open canvas or a "choose your own adventure" book, and I had the audacity to let that discomfort me for a few irresponsible moments. I find that this alien way of life has been the backbone of many of my journeys here. I wake up and my day is filled with that question, the same question I've ignored to ask myself for years. "What do I want to do today?"

Yoga? Sure, right down the street. Massage? Definitely. Ostrich riding? Let's do it. I settled on starting my day at the bakery with a quick blog update and a slice of warm, calorie-filled carrot cake- and you know why? Because I can. Today, the day is mine; that's one of the most beautiful parts of this adventure. 

Time to go as I only got a free 15 minutes on the internet. Thailand is forcing me out to adventure. I'm not complaining. 

Happy Halloween!

As the days flutter by, I am finding myself increasingly at home here. The little changes in my routine that I primarily saw as inconveniences have become a natural part of my every day life. As I exited the freezing cold shower late last night, I looked to my roommates and said "I'm not sure if I am just learning to tolerate that, or if I am actually starting to prefer it." Rice for breakfast, running around barefoot, sharing a room with five other girls, riding in the beds of trucks: these have all become a part of the life that I live now. I'm used to taking only the bare minimum rather than indulging in everything that I've been blessed with back home, and I believe that in only a few short weeks, my appreciation for even the simplest of pleasures has been amplified. Coffee in the morning...woah, what's the occasion? Waking up with only three bug bites...winning! Toilet paper in the bathroom...holy crap! I'm amazed at how the lack of these things hasn't made me miss them, but rather just adore them more when they are there. Tonight I sat in the outdoor kitchen area and treated myself to a warm cup of coffee in a large mug. A wonderful treat indeed.

A few days ago, the volunteer gang and myself decided that there was no way were going to let a Halloween pass by unrecognized. This mostly went for the American volunteers as our Australian and English friends didn't quite understand, but they were so excited for it! One Australian in particular, Steve, completely spearheaded the day by purchasing candy for everyone and making us say trick or treat. He continued to exclaim "Oh my first Halloween! This is so exciting! Are we doing it right?" with the goofiest, childlike smile on his face. It was adorable. Anyway, we all went into town the night before and, as they don't celebrate it here, attempted to find just a little something to wear as a costume. Glasses, little mouse ears, a mask or two; nothing extravagant or like I would be witnessing at home but we were absolutely thrilled. The night of, we got dressed up in whatever little thing we bought (I painted my face...actually much better than I thought I would) and made a large bonfire in the middle of an open field. We ate the little candies that Steve provided us with, sat around the campfire, and took turns telling our scariest stories for hours on end. Surrounded by trees, darkness, and new friends, I stared at the thousands of stars in the night sky and, again, felt the familiar sense of gratitude. Not a drop of alcohol was sipped, no intense costumes were worn. Just us, in the middle of nowhere, having a much different Halloween than we have ever had before. Some of us for the first time ever.

Happy Halloween to everyone back home!