Leaving Asia
I'd like to share my favorite piece of writing that I ever wrote with you here- it's from June of 2016. It's not exactly related to yoga, but it's certainly part of what defines me. After this post, I went to yoga teacher training in Bali and taught yoga for a bit in Nicaragua. I wound up back in Myanmar teaching kindergarten again (AND yoga) before the start of the second quarter. You just can't keep me away! And right now, I'm traveling in Thailand. That's why there won't be new posts for a few weeks. We got accustomed to going to Thailand every 70 days for visa runs, so after nearly 2 years, we're well overdue. Someone asked me the other day what I'll do there and I said, "relive my past?" Part of me does very much miss the traveling life. But I have not given it up for good and I think I am in the right place in Hawai'i for now. However, I know with certainty that travel will be a part of my life for the rest of my life. It is a part of my passion. [This post contains affiliate links]
Today as I was motorbiking on an unfamiliar road through green rice paddies and fields, past mud-soaked water buffalo and cows with large humps on the back of their neck, I had to pull over because I was on the verge of tears. I stopped to more fully admire the soft rain clouds and mist over the mountains and appreciate all of the things that are around me here in Asia. After 5 years living here (1 in Korea, 2 in China, 2 in Myanmar, plus 2 in Turkey, but those don’t count), I have adapted so many of my habits and preferences.
I can squat on a toilet with only the slightest bend in myankles- a pose I also now sometimes take while waiting for transportation orchoosing the best mango at the local market. And also a pose I’veconsidered taking on top of a dirty Western-style toilet—the exact thing somany signs say not to do. I carry tissue in my purse because I know it’sunlikely there will be any toilet paper in the bathroom. I know chopsticksare far more convenient for some foods. I can pick up the slimiest offoods or take the spine out of a small fish with chopsticks. Like myChinese co-workers, I’ll take a spoon over a fork any day. I crave ricehard if I don’t eat it for about three days. I can appreciate good rice(there are different varieties and qualities and also it takes some skill toget a perfect consistency). I bow my head a little and give a slightsquint to smile with my eyes when greeting strangers (though I think the squintcomes from Turkey, where I also picked up a wink). I smile at strangerson the road. They can see me because I’m in the open air on asemi-automatic motorbike. This is my preferred mode of transport-independence without the bulk or closed feeling of a car. I do like tobicycle too. For the number 6, my instinct is to give a “hang loose”sign- they count up to 10 on one hand in China and it stuck with me. Ialso waver my hand in place to show “no” as they do in Myanmar. I put onehand on my other forearm when I’m giving someone something to be polite, asthey do in Korea and Myanmar. People look at me funny in Thailand when Ido. I try not to point my feet at anyone or directly at anything becauseit’s rude. I don’t leave chopsticks in a bowl- they must rest ontop so they don’t look like incense for the dead. When they’re available,I choose to buy socks and erasers and notebooks with cute animal faces onthem. I like to occasionally throw peace signs on both sides of my facefor a photo. I document my food regularly in photos. I’m notshocked or amazed when a stranger wants to take a photo with me, though it doesmake me feel like Mickey Mouse. I am also not surprised to find a livesnake, monkey or elephant out for a photo opp. I’m not surprised to findstray animals or farm animals in the street. I lie in wait to stalk andkill mosquitos darting through my bedroom. I don’t worry about geckos inthe house because I know they’re on my team. I try not to touch myboyfriend outside of our home. I feel naked if my shoulders, knees orchest are showing and I frown at foreigners who are culturally baring too muchskin. I also am alarmed by noisy ones (when I visit “home” this is thething that annoys me most—I hate understanding all of the ridiculous thingsthat everyone thinks are important enough to talk about). I once rode mybicycle off of the dusty road and into pure dirt because I was too busy staringat a couple of foreigners I didn’t recognize, wondering what the heck they weredoing there. I feel drawn to serene temples, I am compelled to bow myhead in respect and ask the Buddha for guidance and calm. Rather thansaying uh-huh I grunt a sort of eunh noise if I agree with someone or toencourage them to continue their story. The first language that comes tomy mind for greeting a stranger is rarely English but it’s also rarely thecorrect language of the stranger. I use big facialexpressions and gestures in case English isn’t enough. I almost don’tnotice typos on menus or errors in speech- I know what they mean so I don’tquestion it. But in turn, this makes me sometimes uncertain of my ownlanguage or spelling. Often words come out of me out of order. Thebacks of my shoes are all scrunched from going barefoot in temples, restaurants,classrooms and homes and being too lazy to put my shoes on properlyafterward. My fashion is whack. One day I’m wearing an Indiankurta, the next day a longyi top and a long Turkish skirt, then a shan shirtand culottes, then a business-y button-down with Thai pants, and on the weekenda beachy flowy cover-up or a T-shirt and grandma-fit pants with pineapples fromthe local market for under $3. “People look at me anyway so I may as wellwear what I want.” I don’t know a thing about modern fashion (I’mtourist-chic?). I also don’t know much when people ask where I’m from andwant to talk California. I’ve learned to say “I’m from California, butI’ve been living in Myanmar.” People are regularly flabbergasted by theword, country and concept of Myanmar.
In a short month and a half, I will be leaving Asia for theforeseeable future; and in a couple of days I’m leaving the part I know best,this place that I have learned to love and call home. This is where Ilearned to cook and what to eat (now that I’m celiac). This is where Ifirst dealt with bodily harm. This is where I learned to get up and go towork. This is where I learned how to teach and how to relate tochildren. This is where I learned how to make a house a home. Thisis where I learned to budget my money and to pay bills. This is where Ilearned to plan a trip. This where I learned how to deal withWinter. This is where I learned to be brave. This is where Ilearned to challenge myself and norms. This is where I learned to takerisks. This is where I learned to trust. This is where I learned tobe alone. This is where I learned how to cross cultural barriers. This is where I learned to accept help sometimes even when I don’t wantit. This is where I learned to smile and always say thank you forniceness. This is where I learned when to follow my gut and say no. This is where I learned to ask for or take the things that I really need. This is where I learned to stand up for myself. This is where I learnedwhen I need to scream. This is where I learned about what it means to bepoor or rich, and to really understand the greater value of right andwrong. This is where I learned to value my family as much as they deserve(and I thank them for nurturing me to become someone curious and kind, who canand will go beyond). This is where I learned to understand passion. This is where I fell in love wholly. This is where I learned to givemore. This is where I learned to be me—and where I found out who I reallyam (or maybe I should say where I’m finding out because I am stilllearning. I hope I never stop learning and growing).
I grew up an American under the guidance of my parents and grandparents, my teachers, social norms, rules, and media. But I was only half-finished. I became an adult here in Asia. I have some new values and I have cemented stronger belief in some old ones. I don’t know if I’m really culturally American anymore. But I don’t think Asia would claim me as one of their own either. I’m not sure I fit into any standard box. What’s left? Me and a one-way ticket to Nicaragua (via Bali and California for a visit “home.”).
