As someone who seems to exist purely in the past, it’s been a pretty interesting 3 days in Thailand. Not very eventful, but interesting in that I seem to be constantly shifting between 10 years ago and the present. I’m seeing and feeling very vividly how I did all those years ago and trying my best not to contrast and compare to how things are now, because it’s VERY different.
I guess there’s no need for me to wax on and off about my previous travels, because I plan to (finally) do that and fill in the blanks when I get back to London. I didn’t paint the picture of my time abroad then, but I’m going to do it, for sure.
But I don’t remember longer flights being so difficult… or such small things making me smile so much! The last time I boarded any planes was 2019, but those were more like flying taxis around Europe. I remember 10 years ago, being on an Air India flight and quaking in my barefoot shoes about what was going to happen to me when I landed. I can’t remember much of the flight, except for sleeping and panicking a lot.
This time, I was very happy to find a pillow, ear plugs and a blanket on the EVA flight (it’s nice to know little things can still spike my dopamine levels). And playing some Angry Birds (which I haven’t done in 14 years) on the seat screen impressed me probably more than it should have. And the food! A beef patty with potato gratin and pork and rice had me so happy! I don’t recall being this impressed or appreciative about such things back then.
Maybe I was too cool? Maybe my interest in Buddhism has changed me? Or maybe after being in isolation and survival mode for so long, I just can’t help but take on these small acts of hospitality as large acts of kindness that I lap up hungrily?
A few hours into the flight, the biggest difference hit me. Not the shift in mindsets and mental health, or expectations, or the difference in bank balances or the duration of my stay… but the physical bullshit I have to put up with.
I remember being able to sleep like a log no matter where or when. Now? The constant pain in my shoulders, in my lower back, the pressure in my ankles and knees from years of slouching over a desk and inactivity (and maybe age, which I don’t want to admit) has made being on a plane for more than 6 hours NOT VERY FUN AT ALL.
I was a bit dismayed by the fact that EVA only gives earplugs, and you’re expected to bring your own headphones to plug into the screens to watch movies. Until I realised (quite later on) that the earplugs ARE the headphones. And yo, that dopamine was spiking HEAVILY when I hooked myself up to some distraction for the rest of my waking hours on that flight. Which seemed to go on forever.
But the wait was worth it.
As someone who seems to exist purely in the past, nostalgia is very strong for me.
My mind is full of video tapes that I play on repeat. People are often surprised by how good my memory is, and I tell them I don’t have a photographic memory, but a videographic one; I can still walk down the Thai streets and recall how I felt when I saw my first gecko, the look on my face, the “holy shit,” I said out loud. I can still see the sights as I walk down memory lane, I can hear the laughter echoing in my ears of the girl I was in love with, I can watch back the moment when after feeling like I was lost, opening the door to my Airbnb and feeling like I finally had a place to call home.
I don’t just record things I see in my life… I log the moments that make me feel.
So, it’s no wonder I’m someone who seems to exist purely in the past. After the last 10 years, that’s where most of my love, laughter, freedom, hatred and pain lies. Not in total harmony, but far more balanced than the last few years.
When a friend I met and travelled a bit with in Thailand last year asked for some photos and videos I took back then, I told him I can’t bear to look at them, because “it’s the last time I felt alive.”
In coming to Thailand, I might be chasing the dragon and looking for a feeling of blood being in my veins again… and I’m often feeling a sense of worry when things aren’t quite the same. Like the weather. ESPECIALLY the fucking weather. I have been rained on more in the last 3 days than I have in maybe 2 years of being in London.
But when I got off that plane and was hit with that heavy humidity and feeling of heat? Standing outside under the fog of adventure, hearing the sounds of the Thai language for the first time in almost a decade? The unmistakable smell of the city, the sound when you walk into a 7-Eleven, and biting into a ham and cheese croissant that tastes the exact same as it did for my breakfasts all those years ago?
I didn’t know nostalgia could feel so real again.
I didn’t know that nostalgia could feel, smell or taste this way.
I didn’t know that I could stop existing purely in the past and actually be here.
Now.
Not in my head, playing back videos and sorting though memories for moments that matter, and being hijacked by the ones I’d rather forget.
I couldn’t stop smiling and almost felt myself wanting to cry.
After 3 pretty interesting (yet uneventful) days where I’ve been swept up in a mix of emotions, comparison and confusion… I realise I’m constantly landing to find another nice little video tape to my collection.
And I feel the blood back in my veins, again.
At long last.
