It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday

I need to make this entry as dramatic as I possibly can, so please click the green arrow below to accompany your reading of this final post.

	Boyz II Men - It's So Hard to Say Goodbye .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

Well folks, Boyz II Men says it best. How can I possibly put into words what the past six months meant to me? I left the states last October as a person who planned every move she made. I didn’t go to the grocery store without a list. I didn’t meet up for dinner with a friend without first putting it on my agenda. I didn’t let fish eat the dead skin off my feet. I left the states last October as a person who was a little impatient. I didn’t always take the time to listen to other people. I had no tolerance for lateness. If you couldn’t keep up with me, you were out. I left the states last October as someone who, although curious, had a fear of the unknown.

It was that curiosity that drove me to Asia and caused me to shed my inhibitions and have the best time of my life. Calm down, I haven’t turned into some carefree, bungee-jumping, hitchhiking maniac. But I know that great things can come from something that might seem a little scary or intimidating. Erin is going to make fun of me, but December’s hill tribe trek was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Was it a pleasant experience? Not entirely. Did my life flash before my eyes at some points? Yes. But when we made it to the village, and we danced around the fire with the Akha people I felt such a sense of happiness and fulfillment. If it takes life-threatening mountainous treks to experience life, (after all, that’s what it was,) then I’m putting a pair of hiking boots on my birthday list.

I can’t write this post without mentioning the incredible Thai people, who have some of the biggest hearts, most fun-loving personalities, and most comfortable clothing of anyone I’ve ever met. I can guarantee you that my students taught me more than I taught them. They taught me the value of appreciating what you have. They taught me how to have fun in any situation. They taught me the value of a smile. They taught me to always dance like no one is watching (just kidding, I didn’t need any help with that one). SOME of them were, by far, some of the kindest and most respectful teenagers I have ever encountered. I already miss them more than words can say, and I wish the very best things for each and every one of them. I find myself, these days, blasting the Thai music the students gave me while weeping alone in my too-big, too-comfortable bed. I want each of them to pursue what makes them happiest, and if that means farming in Hangchat, that is what I want for them. I think they have what a lot of Americans don’t have, and that is a sort satisfaction with one’s life. We are always hoping and wishing for something bigger and better, which can be fine, but it leads to a sense of discontentment. We met several people in Thailand who didn’t have much more than the necessities, but we never once heard them utter the words, “I want.”

Although it was a completely unique experience, teaching in Thailand almost certainly made me into a better teacher. I mastered the skill of adapting a failing lesson when only crickets can be heard from the desks, as happened on many occasions. Those Thai kids were some of the toughest critics I will ever have. If a lesson wasn’t fun enough, they simply wouldn’t participate. I think my teaching has officially reached a new “fun level.” Our fellow teachers taught me to mai bpen rai, or “don’t worry.” If something doesn’t go well, there’s no point in dwelling on it. You’ll get ‘em next time.

Our good time is largely thanks to our fellow teachers and the people of Hangchat, who made us feel like family. Hangchat will always feel like home to me, and I most certainly hope to return someday. Special thanks to Lun, Pan, and Sutham who took the very best care of us.

And finally, I think I need to take a moment to address the question in our header: “Will the 16 year friendship survive six months in southeast Asia?” It was tested. As I’ve been explaining , Erin and I lived together, worked together, ate meals together, and travelled together. Our longest times apart were when we were teaching, or when Erin would go for jogs around the field. I can safely say that most married couples I know would have divorced under these circumstances. We annoyed the hell out of each other. Our very different personalities clashed. We had disagreements. We had ‘silent treatments.’ We shed tears over a couple of heart to heart, ‘Let’s Work This Out’ sessions. But in the end I think we learned why we have been friends for almost as long as we can remember. We’re good for each other. Erin makes me do things that I would never otherwise do, like jump on a motorbike with a stranger and get taken to a mysterious wooded campsite. By the same token, I keep Erin in line, by doing things like booking guesthouses in advance. We disagree sometimes, but in the end we can always have a good laugh over some chips and salsa, or lad na.
Where are they now? Erin Coneeny is currently trying to pursue a career in finance, specifically one that will land her overseas, perhaps back in Asia. Emily Duval will be moving to Brighton this spring and nannying for the summer. She is giving her resume to anyone who will take it, to try to find an elementary teaching position in her beloved Boston area in the fall. Erin and Emily are still in contact with each other on a daily basis and continue to take trips together, although on a smaller scale, (Hampton Beach, Boston, Five Guys). So yes, the friendship did survive and is perhaps stronger than ever.

Now a special thank you to all of you, the readers and followers. We know we are wordy and sometimes less-than-funny. But we appreciate all the time you’ve taken to follow our adventure, and the feedback you’ve given us. We recognize that our number of followers have grown exponentially, and we are so happy to have been able to entertain and perhaps even teach you a thing or two! Be sure to keep in touch with us and help us find jobs, oops, it slipped out.
Sa wadii ka, rak na, joop joop.

Until the next great adventure . . .