I’ve come to realize
that I was wrong about the feeling of spring being unique to 4-season
climates. Last year, in Ubon, I
didn’t feel spring. I think I missed it because I was still so new to Thailand
and was not really looking for parallels to back home. This year—my second
living abroad—has been different, in a really good way. I’ve become a whole lot
more comfortable in my own skin, and all that blindingly shiny novelty of being
in a new place and constantly experiencing new things has dulled down to a
subtler glow. Because of this, I’ve begun to notice things—a lot of them—in
climate and culture that are not so foreign after all.
One thing that I’ve
been enjoying immensely since the end of October is the feeling of spring in
the air. I used to define spring as the beautiful time of year when the weather
begins to warm after a long winter, when the days grow longer, and when the
color green starts to squeeze its way back into the world.
Spring in Thailand is
different on the surface, but the underlying thing that truly makes spring is
the same: the transformation from yucky, barely bearable weather to more
comfortable, more beautiful weather. It is essentially a transformation of the
out-of-doors from place if discomfort to a place of comfort, and one that draws
you out of your indoor hiding places back into the light. In 4-season climates,
this is the transformation from cold weather to warm weather. Here in Ubon,
it’s the transformation from the hot, constantly wet rainy season to the
beautiful, dry cool season.
Upon returning to
Thailand from my travels to Cambodia and Vietnam in October, I was immediately
hit by this change of weather, and the resulting change of feeling. Spring was
in the air! No more rain meant no more wading and bicycling through flooded
streets: opaque, brown soups of trash, dirt, and doggy doo on my way to work.
Cooler days meant no more sweat-soaked shirts after 5 minutes of biking.
Breezy, bordering-on-cold nights meant the opportunity to enjoy something
seldom felt in Thailand: coziness (in the hot season, I don’t sleep with any
cover at all—not even a sheet. Lately, I’ve been enjoying nights with a sheet and a blanket over that to
keep me warm. What a wonderful thing!). I even did some spring-cleaning in
light of all this springiness, sorting through clothing, getting rid of un-worn
items, and scrubbing the ubiquitous rainy-season mold out of the nooks and
crannies of my room.
The transformation has
been rejuvenating, and has taught me a comforting lesson: that there are more
similarities between home
and abroad—between here and there—than initially meet the eye. They may be wrapped up in a
different package, and may at first appear to be totally different, but inside
they are just the same.
