"So it looks like I'll be spending Christmas alone this year... on a boat," I paused as I spoke to my brother.
"That sure sounds like fun," I heard in a sarcastic tone over the phone.
And my holiday decision, which I had already put so much thought to, was hit like a dagger.
My brother and I don't really see eye to eye on my life approach. As I've ran away from my family, and moved around the globe to never look back.
There has been no other time on my 9 months abroad that I've questioned why I moved away than now. Now, during the Holiday season.
Thanksgiving skype chats have passed where I got to virtually see the whole family together. Pictures of Christmas trees and reindeer sweaters have swamped my news feed.
I really do miss home.
But then my life continues over here. The fear of missing out at home disappears as I go running after little Laos nuggets. As I play hide-and-seek behind their windows and get invited to sit with the husband and wife for water. Managing a grown up conversation, all the while playing hand games with their children. They tell me it isn't often the little ones get to play and listen to a farang girl. So I say "hellooooo" in a drawn out way that sets them into laughter as they mimic me.
I can be completely in my head and in regret about not being on the other side of the globe. And then beautiful cross-cultural exchanges happen. And I become aware that whatever I'm doing, it's working. I'm feeling connected to the world and I'm happy.
So this year, my Christmas will not be spent nestled with my kitty by the fireplace. My Christmas will not have a tree glittered with ornaments. This season I will not write a letter to Santa. This season I will not open gifts nor wait in anticipation for surprised expressions.
So this year, my Christmas will be spent rocking along the riverside with my backpack by my side. My Christmas will have a boat stocked with strangers. This season I will celebrate the day like every other. This season it will just be me.
When you decide to live abroad, you pay a certain price. You set a distance from yourself and those you love to afford the luxury of the foreign. You make the decision that it might be months, or even years before you'll get to see those friends and family you once interacted with on a daily basis.
So here I am, choosing the life of travel. Choosing a home called Thailand populated by people who speak a language I barely understand. Choosing to spend the season in a way most of the world's population will never experience.
I dial the phone twice, as once never seems to give them enough time to get there.
"Is that you, Nora?" he says as my mom laughs in the background.
We talk about what he's done that day, and I talk about what I've got planned. Mom is always asking if I'm safe. Or if I've gotten a tattoo.
And the tender subject comes up for my plans this holiday. I explain I'll be on my own for Christmas as I make my way to my friends for New Years.
As if he knows I need a good laugh he replies, "Well if you aren't going to be with us for Christmas, what does it really matter anyway?"
"No one knows you better than yourself. And if you've gotta be alone on Christmas, then you've gotta be."
"That sure sounds like fun," I heard in a sarcastic tone over the phone.
And my holiday decision, which I had already put so much thought to, was hit like a dagger.
My brother and I don't really see eye to eye on my life approach. As I've ran away from my family, and moved around the globe to never look back.
There has been no other time on my 9 months abroad that I've questioned why I moved away than now. Now, during the Holiday season.
Thanksgiving skype chats have passed where I got to virtually see the whole family together. Pictures of Christmas trees and reindeer sweaters have swamped my news feed.
I really do miss home.
But then my life continues over here. The fear of missing out at home disappears as I go running after little Laos nuggets. As I play hide-and-seek behind their windows and get invited to sit with the husband and wife for water. Managing a grown up conversation, all the while playing hand games with their children. They tell me it isn't often the little ones get to play and listen to a farang girl. So I say "hellooooo" in a drawn out way that sets them into laughter as they mimic me.
I can be completely in my head and in regret about not being on the other side of the globe. And then beautiful cross-cultural exchanges happen. And I become aware that whatever I'm doing, it's working. I'm feeling connected to the world and I'm happy.
So this year, my Christmas will not be spent nestled with my kitty by the fireplace. My Christmas will not have a tree glittered with ornaments. This season I will not write a letter to Santa. This season I will not open gifts nor wait in anticipation for surprised expressions.
So this year, my Christmas will be spent rocking along the riverside with my backpack by my side. My Christmas will have a boat stocked with strangers. This season I will celebrate the day like every other. This season it will just be me.
When you decide to live abroad, you pay a certain price. You set a distance from yourself and those you love to afford the luxury of the foreign. You make the decision that it might be months, or even years before you'll get to see those friends and family you once interacted with on a daily basis.
So here I am, choosing the life of travel. Choosing a home called Thailand populated by people who speak a language I barely understand. Choosing to spend the season in a way most of the world's population will never experience.
I dial the phone twice, as once never seems to give them enough time to get there.
"Is that you, Nora?" he says as my mom laughs in the background.
We talk about what he's done that day, and I talk about what I've got planned. Mom is always asking if I'm safe. Or if I've gotten a tattoo.
And the tender subject comes up for my plans this holiday. I explain I'll be on my own for Christmas as I make my way to my friends for New Years.
As if he knows I need a good laugh he replies, "Well if you aren't going to be with us for Christmas, what does it really matter anyway?"
"No one knows you better than yourself. And if you've gotta be alone on Christmas, then you've gotta be."
