Tisch Global Jumbos

by Vorleak, Alonso & Liam

“Home away from home.” It’s a phrase that gets thrown around a lot when talking about homestays, right? But honestly, nothing could have prepared us for the whirlwind of emotions that came with actually living it.

“Home away from home.” The words that echoed in our heads as we rode off to the Huai Lan Community from our Doodle house in our usual silver vans, our hearts pounding like the Khon dance drum. We have still yet to know who our host mothers “Maes” were but there they were; beaming with their smiles all wide and welcoming, but their words, a melodious cascade of Thai, washed over us like a foreign tide. We managed to speak out “Sawadee kha and Sawadee krap” a basic phrase taught by our Kru Nim and Kru Angpao, but one that has helped us out in countless awkward situations.

Home. The world felt alien in this old wooden house supported on stilts, the air both outside and inside filled with the scent of lemongrass, basil and other unfamiliar spices. My room, a simple space with egg colored walls, a giant woven rose mat and mosquito net, was a far cry from my Rilakkuma pattern bed sheets and walls covered with bookshelves back home in Cambodia.

Continue reading “Homestay in Huai Lan: Home Away From Home (Part 2)”

by Karlita

As the halfway point of my Thailand Civic Semester was approaching, I felt hesitant and afraid about being placed in a host family. However, when I first met my host mom, Mea Rod, she welcomed me with open arms and a giant smile spread across both our faces. In that very moment, I realized I had nothing to fear. To our daily walks at five in the morning or our conversations over eating delicious authentic Thai food at the dining table, there is never a dull moment with Mea Rod. Although a language barrier can be challenging, when Mea Rod and I make the effort, our conversations overflow with laughter that never seems to end. It feels as if I’ve found a second home, a place where I’m cherished and cared for just as warmly as I would be with my own family. As time continues, I hope to deepen my bond with Mea Rod and create unforgettable memories.

Originally posted here.

by Michela

P’Tor asks if America is more beautiful than Thailand. We both laugh: me at the absurdity of the question and him at my expression. I wonder about the America he is picturing: tall east coast skyscrapers, mid-west corn, cars on the highway, evergreens, orange leaves, diners.

If you asked what it looked like, here, I would start with the bathroom, the one on the balcony with its pretty tiles and slits near the ceiling. Washing away the day’s heat, I see the sky turn pink. And then, the dining table—soup with mushrooms from the sunrise morning, rice, always hot, eggs in every fashion you can imagine, greens from the vines climbing up the fence that the dogs can clear in a jump, pork, chicken, noodles, guava with chili-salt-and-sugar, pumpkin, coconut sweets. What I’m trying to say is this: I am surrounded by things that can make you full. The rice paddies. Every kind of cloud. Longan trees, tamarind trees, basil, bananas, and papayas. All the oldies I have memorized on P’Tor’s guitar. Language, a new word every day—sesame, rambutan, sun, moon, wake up, full, enough, wash, win, lose, miss, happy, worry, wear, airplane, forget, remember.

I would tell you how the smallest details here are unspeakably pretty: the little bowls and flower vases folded from banana leaves, woven mats splayed out in the shade, sliced dragon fruit, the albino lizard that matches the wall by the sink, bamboo fish and birds hanging by the kitchen, aluminum silver cups, skirts that remind me what color is: here is pink, here is purple, here is green. The mountains on all sides, every shade of light blue, faa, which also means sky. The wat, its abundance of flowers, paintings on the ceiling, shoes lined up by the steps like we’re all coming home.

P’Tor asks if America is more beautiful than Thailand and I can’t find the words to say no in the way that I mean to; to explain that sometimes it is so pretty I cannot bring myself to take pictures.

Originally posted here.

by Nelson

Dear Ma and Ba,

“I miss home” is the least I can say about how I feel today. It’s strange how “home” has evolved so many times for me over the past few weeks. I thought I understood what it really meant when I left home in Quincy and arrived at the Tufts University campus to start my Civic Semester Orientation or even that morning when our cohort moved out of the Doodle House and transitioned into our homestays––which, I have to say, was quite emotional after having to say goodbye to the owner of the เจ๊นา อาหารตามสั่ง restaurant who cooked the most delicious pad see ew I’ve ever had. But after living in Chiang Mai for the past six weeks, sharing a space with 13 other (wonderful) people, and being part of the everyday life in the Huai Lan community these past few days, I’ve come to realize that home is much more than just a place––it’s the people, the small gestures of kindness, and moments of care that make home feel so much like home.

Living in the Huai Lan community these past few days feels complicated, especially having to adjust to a pace of life that is slower but fuller while, at the same time, quieter yet filled with the hums of familiar connections. But, in a way, it still feels so much like home. Ma and Ba, you might be wondering, “How are you doing with the language?” Well, to be completely honest with you, I’ve been stumbling my way through learning Thai (something I definitely have not been productive with), and though my vocabulary is still embarrassingly small, Meeh WanDi, my lovely host mom, has been extremely patient with me. I’ll probably never forget that night when my host family celebrated Pho Wanlip’s (my amazing host dad’s) 70th birthday, and I had to rely on a mixture of hand gestures and the few words I knew to navigate our small conversations around our dinner table.

Continue reading “A Letter to Home from Home, Thousands of Miles Away”