730 days

It's been a while. A long while. An unintentional break from what was intended to be a detailed account of my travels in Asia. I've certainly told my stories to anyone who will listen. If I had a nickel for every time I started a story with, "When I was in Asia...," I'd surely cease my tiring, time-consuming career as a teacher and go back. Tonight, I set aside my papers to grade (that are already long overdue) to reflect upon the two years that have passed since I left for my Far East endeavor.

One year ago today, I strolled the beaches of Haad Yao on the exotic island of Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand, counting the stars and avoiding the jellyfish bloom that washed ashore. I devoured fresh seafood, caught by the locals, while kicking back at a candlelit table in soft sand and chatting with fellow travelers.

Two years ago today, I missed a flight to Seoul, dry-heaved into a trashcan at gate A19 at Lambert International Airport, then proceeded to hyperventilate at the thought of staying in America any longer.

In these past 730 days, I've aged at hyperspeed. Throwing yourself into a land where you don't speak the language, you don't understand the culture, and you don't fit the mold, you have no choice but to grow within yourself. Issues I ran from in America, I carried with me overseas, and for the first 11 months, I kept with me, tightly holding on to my anger and resentment. Perhaps running from problems isn't what every doctor would order, but it did me a deal of good. Escaping America, I was able to view the world from a less narcissistic point. A little girl in Cambodia taught me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there are others that have nothing and still smile. While climbing a volcano (yes, a volcano) on the Korean island of Jeju, which totaled 12 miles and required 8 hours to complete roundtrip, I realized that I can tackle any challenge I put my mind and body to--even if I cry from the excruciating pain along the way. New friends taught me to trust again--that everyone has baggage and that I don't have to carry mine all on my own. I learned what it's like to be a minority and foreigner, sometimes admired for my big, blue eyes and other times scoffed at for my American roots. My Korean devils... I mean, students... showed me that American kids aren't as ill-fated as we worry them to be. Lastly and most importantly, I learned to love--despite flaws and hiccups--to love others and to love myself.

xx
hh