The husband and I recently tagged along with friends on a trip to Bangkok, Thailand. Being the sort of people we are, we spent most of our time in the outskirts of the city, in plant markets, at plant fairs and at farms. Not for us the mad shopping and boisterous crowds of the city centre.
True to form, I failed to take any photographs of ourselves or our friends. My point-and-shoot camera’s SD card is full of pictures of plants, and occasional images of food. Oh, and I discovered that I really like (certain types of) succulents. Maybe they will start to show up on this blog in time. I don’t know yet. Haha.
We didn’t miss home. Well, to be accurate, we missed our home, the apartment where we live, but we didn’t miss our home country, which is a city state. I for one was more relaxed out there among Thailand’s open expanses; on the few occasions that we found ourselves braving traffic (both vehicular and human) in an urban area, we were jittery and bad-tempered (me in particular). And it wasn’t five minutes after our plane touched down back on home ground that both our friends and us started to get irritated by the people and things around us.
Before I left on this trip I had been entertaining thoughts of coming back with wonderful revelations about life and spirituality, and I had expected to sit down upon my return and pen something insightful and thoughtful. In reality, I’m just tired; I miss my time away, and I feel more hemmed in and agitated than ever by the general lack of greenery and fresh air. I felt oppressed and stuck in the office, and am twitchy among crowds.
It’s just like both times I came back from Hawai’i—some time is probably needed before whatever I really learned or gained from the trip comes up to the surface of my consciousness. I’m just wondering for the umpteenth time whether E and I really, really need to seriously consider moving. I guess time will tell? …or will it just show that we were too afraid to take risks?