adventure build-up

I am not an adventurous person. I do not possess an intrepid spirit. Anyone who knows me even a little can tell you I'm not particularly daring. I am risk-averse and timid. My idea of being rebellious is throwing a glass bottle in the garbage instead of recycling it. Seriously.

I remember all the great books and movies from my childhood seemed to preach the intense benefit of travel and a great adventure. I remember feeling that all humans were supposed to seek out adventure, to really crave it. I guess I bought into that idea and always felt a gnawing pressure to do something bold in life, something risky – but I could never bring myself to break away from the norm.

In regard to taking the giant leap and moving to Thailand for a while, my best friend (who is always honest in that best-friend sort of way) said, "This is you we're talking about, remember?"

on an island in thailand

There is a modest house in the jungle on an island in Thailand, flanked on one side by a rubber plantation and by a drunken Nazi neighbor on the other (don’t ask). In that house, for seven months (the blink of an eye), I learned to live life at a snail’s pace and to sink further into myself; dwelling, nesting and escaping.

I can’t make my travel story out to be something that it wasn't... it wasn't about becoming infinitely brave or anything grand or noble. But I can make my travel story out to be exactly what it was: me, a fairly wimpy girl, staying in a foreign country with no job, no direction, no great wealth... it was a personal study in escapism.

there is a house in the jungle...

oh, where shall I begin...

...and it was lovely at first

it began in 2006