Saying Goodbye

I stepped off the plane in Thailand and was greeted by Ajaan Mark and some of the Thai Pi’s. They dropped a necklace of flowers over my head and said “welcome to Thailand!” We stayed that evening in a hotel and the next morning were taken to ISDSI for orientation. By 5 pm our host families began arriving to come pick us up. I hadn’t been in the country a full 24 hours by this point and had learned only one word in Thai (sawadee-ka). Then all of a sudden there I was standing face to face with a Thai couple in their 50’s. They smiled at me and spoke some Thai; I just smiled back and got in the car. I had no idea who I was with or where we were going. We drove through the city (a scary experience, to be sure), all the way through the city, then started coming upon some rice fields and orchards. Where are we going? I wondered the whole time. I had no sense of direction, no way of communicating, no knowledge of appropriate behavior. All I had right then was my Thai parents. They were my only foundation and source of help, comfort, and conduct and so to them I entrusted myself and my wellbeing.

The fields across my house

For five weeks, I’d woken up to these parents and my two sisters in a house in the country. I’d learned (very slowly) what to expect as normal Thai behavior and began to feel more comfortable in their house. My pa woke up every morning around 5:30 and showered. By the time I got out of bed at 6 the front doors would be opened with light streaming in. As I showered he or my maa would cook me breakfast. Different dishes at first, sometimes it was a full meal, other times it was a piece of fruit. Eventually they settled on hot-dogs and a fried egg, which I would routinely couple with hot chocolate. My sister would wake up and when she put on her backpack I knew we were leaving for school. I’d walk outside and down the steps to where all of our shoes sat. They’d unlock the gate and out we’d go. When school was over my parents would drive up and if I didn’t see them first and walk out, my maa would come find me. She’s ask “wan ni koon le-en aria ka?” and I would take out my notebook and butcher the pronunciation of about every word I tried to say. “Kao jai?” I’d add after long silences after I’d read a word. (Do you understand?) to which the response was usually “mai kao jai” (I don’t understand) and a chuckle. I’d then try it in a sentence, if I knew enough vocab for it. But oftentimes I had to resort to pointing at the Thai spelling of the word (while I had English phonetics written beside). Once she realized what I’d been trying to say she’d laugh harder, pronounce it correctly for me, and I’d repeat.

We’d get home and I’d retreat to the air conditioning in my room (yes! I had a small AC unit in my room! It was absolutely wonderful) to cool off and unwind from the mentally taxing day of learning Thai. I’d come out a little bit later and practice my Thai or watch my mom cooking dinner. I’d ask “ni arai?” (what’s this?) and she’d tell me Thai word that I’d repeat and usually forget within 20 seconds. I do regret not writing more down about what she was cooking. Many of the ingredients were different and not common/available in the States so it was hard to figure out what she was making and how I could copy it. I did learn general trends in cooking, how things are cut and prepared, how foods are cooked, and whatnot. Then I’d gather five plates and place some heaping mounds of rice on them. We’d eat dinner in Thai fashion: fork in left hand, used to push food onto the spoon in your right which you then eat from. There were multiple dishes, all placed in the middle with little serving spoons. You’d take one or two bite portions at a time from a dish so eating was a communal affair. Some night’s I’d do dished, if not then my maa would the following morning. Then came karaoke time, which was after dinner most nights. I sang some English songs for them and even a Spanish one, while they sang many in Thai. We also listened to a lot of K-Pop while my sisters would dance to the music videos. My maa would say “ap nam” (shower) and I’d be soon showered and off to bed. They day would repeat for nearly every school day.

On weekends, they took me to meet the grandparents and see the piglets, chicks, and puppies that had just been born on their little farm. We went to many shops and markets. I went to Pa’s retirement ceremony and a funeral. I met many policemen at my pa’s station, and the students my younger sister went to school with. I was introduced as their “luke sow” (daughter). Sometimes they would tell me we were leaving, so I’d grab my things and hop in the car without any idea where we were going. Show up, have no idea what was going on, and end up back at home (sometimes still clueless). Sometimes my maa would sit down and talk with me. This was an entirely Thai conversation, as she speaks little/no English. It was a long, long, long process to express a few seemingly simple ideas. One time there was straight-up charades, which actually went over pretty well. I went to the mall with my sisters and had my pa help me in the evening with my homework. It was truly a part of their family.

But after five weeks, the homestays were over and the students had to move into apartments. I was sad to leave my family but excited to gain some freedom. I spent most of Friday night packing, which was a much less organized affair then my packing to come to Thailand a month before. Saturday morning I’m served another fried egg and make myself some hot chocolate. It’s pretty low-key and doesn’t even seem like I’m leaving or my family is too concerned about it. I’m actually ready early so we load up the car and set out. Then I realized I forgot my Karen bag so we had to turn around. Setting out again I realize we’re turning onto the small street that my grandparents live on. We pull in and I’m ushered over to sit next to my grandfather. I greet him appropriately and smile, sitting wondering what’s going to happen. My maa has me hold my hands out in front me, side by side, palms up. My grandpa pulls out some white string and takes a short piece (maybe 6 inches) and drags in across both my palms, chanting. He then takes one of my wrists and, with more chanting, wraps the white string around it three times, ties a knot, and blows on it. He then repeats on the other wrist. When it’s all said in done my parents tell me to thank him, and then we’re back in the car again.

I think my grandpa might have been a monk previously. I think he was Bali chanting, because I couldn’t understand any of it, which is what monks chants and blessings are in. I’m pretty sure I was just blessed by an 80-something Thai monk. Words could not describe how I was feeling at that time. I just felt really great and kept smiling. It was a great send-off from my family, blessing me with good luck and fortune for the rest of my adventures in Thailand and America.

We reach the P&S Mansion Apartments (yeah, say P&S five times fast. You’ll be laughing too). My family helps me take my things up to my room and they check it out to make sure everything is working properly. After so long, there’s not much else to do but for them to leave. I walk them back down to the front door and we stand there for a while, greeting other families as they drop off their host-children. I could tell they didn’t want to leave me, and I knew I was going to miss them, but I was ready to unpack and see where the other students were living and settle into our new apartment life. I also wasn’t sure what correct protocol was for saying goodbye in Thailand, so I just stood there. When it comes time they and give me wai’s and ‘sawadee-ka’s and we just stand there looking at each other.

“Can I have a hug?” I say to my host sister Fern, “That’s what we do in America.” She translated to my maa, who promptly ran forward and threw her arms around me and started to cry. “No, don’t do that. You’re going to make me cry too!” To which the tears immediately started swelling in my eyes. I buried my head in her hair and hugged her, both sobbing. I didn’t want to leave this mother who has had a hand in helping and guiding me during my first very confusing five weeks in Thailand. She’s helped give me a place in society and ground me within Chiang Mai. She’s taught me when to wai, how to eat Thai style, and taken as good of care of me as I could have ever asked (actually she was a little too caring, and it sometimes felt a little suffocating to have such lack of responsibility and freedom, but I know it was only out of love). She steps back, still crying, and I hug my sister Fern as well. Men and women don’t really touch in Thailand, so I didn’t hug my pa, but he did give me a smile and a nod. Then my family walked down the steps, got into the car and drove off. My safety net and security blanket, and most of what grounded me in Chiang Mai had suddenly been ripped away in a very emotional morning.

I walked back upstairs, trying to dry my tears along the way. After sitting in the air conditioning for a little bit, I decide I should unpack. After all, it will be a Saturday night and the first night all the students are together with our new-found freedom.  I would much rather come back in the night to an organized, unpacked, and put together room. I open my backpack and start to unload my books when I come across something I don’t remember seeing before. I pull it out and find a hand-made card written by my host sister Fern. It’s so touching and sweet, full of pictures of me and the family (and my classmate Reid, who my sisters think is incredibly attractive and looks like Justin Bieber. Reid disagrees with the JB part, as most American boys don’t want to look like him). Reading this brought me to tears again.

Sara Do not forget my family. I hope that you will be successful. I hope we can meet again and teach me to sing again. Some call me back. If you come to Thailand again. Families are always welcome. Goog luck! Fern and family <3 Ps.. My love won't accept to change... "love you"

They really cared for me, as a family should. I’m happy to be moving onto the field excursions courses, but I’m very sad to leave them. I have my family in the States. I then have my Prairie Lane family, whom I address as Aunt, Uncle, and occasionally Cousin. A brand off of that is my longest-time friend Leah’s family in southern Ohio, with people like my Uncle Richard, Aunt Pam, and my cousins Josh, Sean, and Nate. They treat me like family and love me just the same. I’ve also adopted two step-families into my life (one’s Italian, now that’s at least five times the size of my blood-related family). Now I’m adding another group of people I can call my family. Having these six families have led me to develop a new definition of the word “family”. A family isn’t only a group of people to which you are genetically related to. Families do not have to be born through blood. A family is a group of people who support one another. They teach the young together. I know I was always safe in the care of any of my Prairie Lane family members. I don’t think there was much worry in my parents mind if I were to be left with any of them. My step-fathers family taught me much about cooking. My southern Ohio family taught me how to ride four-wheelers, shoot guns, throw knives, and drive a car. A family is a support network of people who love and care for one another, and who would drop all they were doing to come to your side in time of need, even when you don’t ask for it. A family is above all, a group who loves one another. I love all my families and am so grateful that I’ve grown up in each of their lives. It’s given me a large safety net to fall back on, a place to be grounded, and an environment to feel safe and comfortable. If I should come back to Thailand, I’ll definitely be visiting my Thai family again. We may be physically apart, but they’ll always be a part of me. To maa, pa, Fang, and Fern: Thank you for such wonderful hospitality. I miss you already, and I’ll never forget you. 

Traditional Lanna dress for the farewell dinner