Beachside Musings

Location: Roots Guesthouse, Mae Ramphung Beach, Rayong, Thailand

Having recovered from playing on the beach all morning, I awoke from my nap to sit on my balcony, stare at my surroundings, and soak in what was happening.

Though I intended to stay in Japan for only six months (a year at most), I ended up staying for two and a half years. I must admit that when I decided to move to Japan, I was excited about the move and change in scenery but fairly ambivalent about the country itself. It was a convenient runner up to the more attractive but less financially viable South America. It was a challenge from the start. Modern Japan, for its flashy, neon ways was a culture I had little in common with originally. That said, I left the country having learned much more than expected about its culture, language, and people and left feeling even more curious still. By far the best presents Japan bestowed on me were the incredible people who shared my trials and tribulations, not to mention fun, cherry blossoms, and not just a few nights of drunken karaoke. I left Japan feeling all the richer for the friends I'd gained along the way. Like my friends and family back home, they will always be dear, if not as near as I would like them to be.

We arrived in Thailand on Songkran, the Thai New Year. It's celebrated by dousing people with water as a sort of "blessing". Locals and foreigners alike walked, drove, and scooted around with water guns and buckets of water making the hot, humid air even wetter. We escaped Bangkok to an intentionally low-key beach filled with mostly Thais. We walked up the main strip with our backpacks looking for a guest house and were greeted with hearty and enthusiastic "hello"s just before buckets of water were cheerfully poured on us. We were soaked from head to toe. Hahahaha, it was priceless.

One of the most difficult things in Japan for me was that despite being surrounded by people, you could feel so alone. When not with friends, I walked around invisible. Umeda station was a crowd of hundreds or thousands of people invisible to each other and refusing to meet my eye. As we walked around the beach, people would immediately make eye contact with us and smile. Others would shout "Hello!" while standing in the beds of passing trucks. It's an invigorating and soul-hugging feeling to be seen again.

The rich smells of Thai food are wafting up to my balcony. Brett is swimming on the beach. I have no doubt that Thailand will give us its fair share of headaches. It already has before we even landed. I'm just happy to be here.