Riding my bicycle through the Old City of Chiang Mai yesterday, I passed a woman also riding. She was meandering slowly down the street while an auto rickshaw driver prepared to pull out in front of her. I knew I had time to get around them before turning left at the next light.
I checked my mirror and then over my shoulder. Using my arm to signal, I swiftly moved into the other lane.
It was a simple moment. A simple decision.
Yet as I passed, I experienced this deep revelation: I live in Thailand.
No longer an idea—something I was thinking about doing or preparing for—it felt real for the very first time.
I somewhat unintentionally waited to tell the social media world of my plans to move. At first, it was to make sure it’s what I wanted. Then it was because I wanted to tell people individually. But really, I think it’s because it just hadn’t hit me.
Maybe it was the way I navigated the road with confidence, or my sense of differientiation from the wandering tourists. Perhaps it was because I spent the two hours prior subbing a yoga class. Or it was simply a byproduct of my first thirty-six hours settling into my new city. Whatever the impetus, any continued sense of dream-walking or playmaking evaporated (momentarily, at least).
Then elation set in.
I felt giddy with this “realization”. My smile spread widely across my face. I sat taller on my bike. The absurditity of my sense of discovering something I’ve long known coursed through me, along with the excitement of really knowing it. Laughing with joy and grattitude, mixed with the apprehension of change, I turned the corner and headed toward my new home.