From a sociologist’s point of view, traveling to (and living in) a strange culture is akin to taking off your clothes and jumping butt-nekkid into a cold mountain lake. It strips away any notion of comfort that you may have had and gives you a new perspective on yourself, your surroundings, and the world you inhabit. Thailand certainly has this effect on one as well, as I expect living in or visiting most any country would, but in some very interesting ways. There are many short-term changes – things that most people recognize during their first week, month or year – but there are also a surprising amount of long-term changes that sneak up on you.

I remember going back to my tiny little hometown after a few years in Thailand and, for some reason, ending up at a skeezy, dingy bar that was the hangout of choice for the rednecks and skids that inhabit the type of backwater farming communities which I grew up in. I was totally shocked to see most of the patrons were people I’d gone to high school with – half drunk on a Wednesday night with a world view that was no bigger than it was when we used to read about other cultures in Mrs. McDonald’s Social Studies class. It was pretty sad – there but for the grace of Eva Air go I.

"Hi, remember when you had a crush on me in grade 10? Well, guess who's single now? Where are you going?

“Hi, remember when you had a crush on me in grade 10? Well, guess who’s single now? Where are you going?

As a refugee from your home culture, the first thing that gets stripped away from you is the sense of familiarity as you’re surrounded by strange things, everything from traffic patterns to clothing sizes. This is pretty obvious so I won’t talk about it too much. Some people can handle it and some can’t, which became clear to me when my best friend/roommate/travel partner bailed on our Asian adventure a week after we got to Thailand despite having planned to stay for at least four months. I guess it’s called a comfort zone for a reason.

For me, the second noticeable change was the gradual realization that, as knowledgeable as I thought I was, I didn’t know anything about anything, relatively speaking. Politics, history, culture, personality types, food, relationships, language… I was a rank amateur in nearly every way. When you constantly meet new people who have done, seen, heard, experienced and tasted things that you have never even thought of doing, seeing, hearing, experiencing or tasting, it puts you in your place pretty quickly. The world is a big pond, and you are a tiny fish with a lot to learn.

On the left: you.

On the left: you.

In terms of making you see things differently, one thing that Thailand does particularly well is devalue the currency of sex. Some guys jump on the booze-n’-orgies express as soon as they leave the airport, while other guys, like me for instance, have never really felt the need to board that particular train (although I’ve pondered a trip many, many times). I know I’m treading on thin ice here, so I’ll be careful, but let’s be honest – when sex is available in quantities that many guys back home can only dream of, your perspective on what constitutes ‘special’, ‘tender,’ ‘cherished’, ‘romantic’ or ‘precious’ undergoes a bit of an adjustment. Add to this the fact that you, as a foreigner, are considered unique, exotic and wealthy (despite a boatload of proof to the contrary), and you have the recipe for a serious paradigm shift in terms of nookie. Some guys can resist this, other guys can’t. Pro tip: if you know the names of all the girls at the bar, you can’t.

Really drunk, really lucky, or really low shutter speed.

Really drunk, really lucky, or really low shutter speed.

But the most noticeable change – at least for me, and especially right now – is how my outlook toward civil unrest has been altered. Back in Mrs. McDonald’s social studies class, we read about coups and uprisings and protests with descriptions of clashes, fighting and bloodshed that would have shut our entire province down had they happened where I lived. However, this sublime, cocoon-like existence is soon replaced by a realization that what passes for ‘batshit crazy lawlessness’ in your hometown is de rigeur in many other places in the world. During my first Thai coup of 2006 I was pretty scared, until I was advised by Thai friends that this is just how things get done here, no worries. Subsequent political flareups and brinkmanship have dulled my sense of what constitutes a ‘dangerous situation’ to the pont that, seriously, I found myself complaining that bad traffic was going to make me late for dinner during the awful violence on April 10th. Not to belittle the tragedy that took place that night, but several years ago I would have been looking for air tickets home; this year I was upset that my linguine was getting cold.

"What? No, it's supposed to be spelled like that."

“What? No, it’s supposed to be spelled like that.”

It continues into the present: despite the ongoing threat of violence as tensions flare and chest-pounding idiots on both sides refuse to back down, I go about my business as usual. True, I’m aware that things may turn to crap at any time, but I’m still surprised at my lack of alarm. In Canada, violent street protests would have me taking shelter in my basement with a stack of my best comic books; in Thailand, I simply plan my night around the impending chaos, and hope for the best.

These are some of the reasons why it’s often so hard for an expat to return to their humdrum existence. I love the town I grew up in, but if I had to read one more headline about a flooded school gymnasium, I think I’d be on the first flight back to Asia, coups and riots be damned.