Hellobee

Ever since we moved abroad, life has been a grand experiment. I know that we are incredibly privileged to play with life this way. We’ve realized that this is a very unique time in our lives and possibly the hardest all at once. Days are stimulating in ways that they simply aren’t if you’re in your native culture. I completely underestimated how challenging it would be at times to live in a country where the language, customs, and daily habits are not natural for me. Simple things are huge accomplishments, like communicating over the phone, catching one of the red taxis or finding natural laundry soap. 

So if step one in the experiment was relocating, step two was finding a place to call home. For our first year in Chiang Mai, we chose to rent a four story townhouse in the city that checked all my boxes for walkability – something we really missed out on living in a neighbourhood in the US for 5 years that was acknowledged to be a “food desert.” In our neighbourhood in Thailand, I walk to the local food market, any number of restaurants and little noodle stalls, the pharmacy, and even the waterfall at the foot of Suthep Mountain. Over the past 15 months, we’ve discovered new rhythms, figured out where to get organic produce, learned to avoid the afternoon sun or rainstorms depending on the season, and I think my legs have gotten stronger at least from all those stairs! At this point, we are comfortable here… which for the Gumdrops perhaps that means it’s time to try something new!

This past month, we’ve been dreaming more seriously about the country. Mr. Gumdrop has never lived anywhere that’s not suburban or urban, and especially not in a beautiful area like this city is surrounded by. We have so much flexibility right now- it will be years before Jujube is in school, and we’ve already done the hard work of settling into a new country. So we put it out there to God and the universe to see what would come back. One rapidly growing snowball later, we’re signing a 6 month lease at a one story, one bedroom home a half hour outside the city, surrounded by tropical orchards and nestled in the mountains. We’re moving. We’re not going far but there are so many little things I’ll miss about this tiny corner of the world.

Since we made the decision, I’ve been fluctuating between excitement and fear. FOMO. I know it well. I’m learning to become more at peace with this state of mind itself, knowing that growth happens outside my comfort zone. Unlike Mr. Gumdrop, I have lived in the country before, but I was a teenager and not in a frame of mind to benefit from the open space it offered physically and mentally. I was just concerned with how far away I was from all my friends – and I guess I haven’t changed that much.

Thankfully, one of the big draws to this place was that we have good friends a short walk down a muddy mountain path, settling into life with their newborn. And yet I’m examining the fear – I see fear of the unknown, of boredom, of having to drive a car on the “wrong” side of the road. A lot of it seems to boil down to a fear of being trapped. Part of me wants unlimited options even if I rarely use them. I want a bustling night market outside my front door even if I only go once every few weeks and even though it just tempts me to indulge in excess shopping or sugar. I want a distraction ready at my fingertips for whenever the silence of sitting with myself gets too strong.

So instead of staying where we’ve become comfortable, I want to push myself to find deeper contentment. I want to learn and be able to pass along the peace that passes all understanding. I still remember life without the technologies that we surround ourselves with, but there’s no question if Jujube will be a digital native. It’s not all bad but I want our daughter to know how to be alone. To find peace in the mountains, in flowing water, and in silence. I hope that stillness and wilderness will be native languages to her, wherever we go.