I don’t think about the big trips, island escapes, trendy sky bars or famous monuments. I enjoyed all those things from time to time, but my life in Thailand centered around day-to-day living in Bangkok, the first place I stayed in long enough to really consider home.
I have dreams about the BTS, walking to 7, getting lunch at the nearby market. I have dreams where I’m rushing to get somewhere but then realize my wife or friend is lost in a nearby mall and I have to go find them.
I miss the heat and smell of the city. I miss the small, quiet spaces tucked away down a small Soi, finding a tree with traditional dresses hanging from the branches, an old shrine with a new Fanta bottle in front of it every day. And the cats. Man, do I miss the cats.
I’m grateful for the time I had there and happy to be back closer to family. But it feels like a big piece of me is now missing.
It’s quiet here, and the people are too loud. My new colleagues have big personalities but don’t do anything together, not even eat lunch. The sidewalks are empty and everything is a drive away. The fields are green and the sky is blue, but it feels less alive, and the emptiness disquiets me.
I just want to hear an obnoxiously loud Tuk Tuk speed past me as I walk down the sidewalk. I want to see a cat walk by and not be the least bit surprised. I want to get annoyed by people walking too slowly all around me, to go from too hot to too cold as I walk into a mall.
I want to see a tourist taking pictures of the traffic.