How Travel Transformed me

Looking back on it, it was much like a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, but I was living it and my personal evolution wasn’t televised. I was a teenager of about 17, who hadn’t really been anywhere, much less to the other side of the world. What did I know about traveling, or traveling to Asia for that matter? So, there I was in my small southern town of origin—Richmond, Virginia—which is a small, easy half-horse town where things change slowly and slow down fast. If you’re from a larger city such as New York or London, coming to Richmond will feel like being dropped in a jar of molasses. But I digress.

My origins are in an impoverished environment, where people often spent the entirety of their lives within an 8-block radius. My personal familial roots are planted in America’s rural south amongst its hardy, farming country folk. I came up among and amid beautiful people, yet historically, these people have either been tied to the land or have simply not had the resources to go very far from where they were born. My existential incubator had the ingredients of a strong Christian background and was even topped off with a four-year tenure in a military High school. The worldview that my hometown bequeathed unto me was American-centered and Jesus-worshipping, whereas within the home my milieu was heavily focused on African-American culture and urban based survival. Yet, here I was, about to undertake a massively transformational trip to the other side of the world, alone, without any friends that I knew. I was preparing to take a trip that would end my world, or worldview, as I knew it.

Next thing I know, Bang! I was in Bangkok; my plane had landed, and I had touched down in Thailand. The cognitive process or sequence of events that led to me arriving in this part of Southeast Asia was minimal at best. I remember literally putting a hand over my eyes and jabbing my finger at a country and agreeing to go wherever my finger landed. Yet, I didn’t regret the decision. Arriving in Thailand was truly an eye-opening experience. Upon arriving in a new culture and country, everything seems strange, especially if you are in Asia. Asian scripts don’t use the roman alphabet, so signs, posts, advertisements and notices become unreadable in a way that makes you feel as if you a child again. It’s like a de-evolution back to being a toddler who can’t read, can’t talk, can’t ask questions and can only stare, gawk and witness the phenomena around you in wide-eyed amazement. Yet, when my “adult” skills were nullified, it forced open other senses—such as my sense of reading body language and my ability to read the “energy” between people as they interacted. The subtle signs often hidden by the more obvious speech and listening marched to the forefront, becoming glaringly louder, clearer and informing you of things about people and places that you rarely picked up on before.

Once attuned, one-by-one the other aspects of being a foreigner came into focus. I witnessed how a 17-year-old in America is regarded as almost an adult while someone in Thailand of the same age would be considered a kid. I experienced the food, which was amazing in taste and off the charts in spiciness—something that I had never experienced before. Thai food was delicious and had very little sugar which caused me to lose quite a bit of weight. I experienced traffic patterns that seemed deadly and life-ending, I had to come to terms with being Black in Asia and standing out like a sore thumb. There were times when I walked into places and people would run, at other times you would have thought that I was Will Smith. I vividly remember one girl seeing me and running off towards her peers and teachers, yelling foreigner, foreigner! Others would come up to me screaming “chocoLAT, chocoLAT!” but while I cringed a first, they would point to my skin and then to theirs following with “Hey…same, same.” I wasn’t being other-ed, I was being connected with—albeit in a way that I would have never accepted in America. While I had previous life experience as a minority and, in all terms, and respects being different, Thailand taught me the difference between being a cultural other, which is a curious novelty and being ostracized as a non-desirable or un-casted untouchable. While Thai youth reacted to me in various ways, I learned that it was mostly because I was considered different and not considered dangerous.

All of this was designed to be a cultural exchange where I shared a bit of my culture and they shared some of theirs. Admittedly, the Thai people and my host family embraced me with an openness that I could have never anticipated. They introduced me to every facet and form of Thai food, Thai music, Thai dance and even a smattering of Thai language. All Thai-ed up in every facet of their culture, I thought that was the end, but I was wrong. The best was yet to come. One afternoon, the Vice Principal of my host school called me into his office and said that he had heard that I wanted to learn how to box. I don’t remember ever saying anything of the sort, but I replied in the affirmative any ways. So, in what I guess was his wanting to see if I was “up to snuff” he started to shadow box me, right there, in his office while gracefully avoiding the furniture. I had no idea what was happening, I was in fact being vetted, yet supposedly I passed. The next day I was introduced to a tall, thin, frail man who didn’t speak much English but said that he was going to teach me “Thai boxing.” For the next six weeks, 5 days a week for about 2 hours I proceeded to go through the very Jean Claude van Damme-like process of running, learning the basics, sparring and pad work that turned me from a very insecure inner-city youth to a quieter, confident, calm but savagely dangerous adolescent. At the tender age of 17, in a country where a boy of that age is considered a kid but able to be trained to fight, I kicked trees, sparred other kids my age and learned to knee the air out of someone, elbow your face open, and Thai kick the blood flow out of a leg. After weeks of this, I was asked “Do you wish to fight.”

Like a mindless Yogi, I said yes. I had learned to say yes to everything, devoid of fear and hesitation. Next thing I knew, I was on a bus going deep into the forest. I had no idea where I was or where I was going but I remember giving myself a pep talk the whole time. Upon arrival, I remember a boxing ring, stands for people to sit all under some type of semi-outdoor pavilion. I was escorted off the bus, warmed up and was then spread with “an ointment” that burned like fire. When it stopped burning, I was led to the ring, where I did a special dance that they had taught me to pay respect to my trainer and the ring. Everything went by fast, and I had no idea what I was doing but I went through the motions and hoped for the best. I entered the ring a boy, but I came out a man who knew what he was made of. Of course, this was my first fight in an actual ring, while fighting someone who was trained and knew what they were doing. The guy was much bigger, much more experienced and very calm and serene. I, on the other hand, jittery and nervous, went at it the whole thing as if it were a street fight—trying to knock him out in 5 seconds. What I did was gassed out and then had to survive the remaining rounds in a state of fatigue that assured me that I was going to die. I must have looked like I was going to die because I remember the vice-principal of the school asking me If I wanted to quit. I respond with an affirmative no. That “No”, that one word I spoke when I had nothing more in the tank was an utterance that I am proud of myself to this day. When given the opportunity to quit and walk out against a Muay Thai fighter, I didn’t take it, instead I strapped on my proverbial shield, went into the last round and resolved to go out on my shield. I felt as if I were going to die and, in a sense, I did. The whole experience was truly transformational, being that I somehow got my wind back and gave my opponent all I had, everything that I had and everything that I was I left in the ring in the ring on one fateful, hot and humid summer day in a jungle of Thailand. I came out of that ring, knowing through sheer experience that I was not one to quit, not one to leave a fight and not one to go out without a fight.

It ended in a tie. I don’t know if it was a real tie or if they gave me an A for effort but regardless of who won, I conducted myself in a way I’m proud of to this day. A story I’ll be telling drinking buddies and grandkids until I’m 80. The me that got on that plane for Thailand never returned to the US, I left him in the ring, the me that returned was a newer and improved version. Thailand was a transformational trip, everything I did was cathartic and healing. I came back in better physically, focused mentally, emotionally calmer and with a quiet sense of calm that I carried with me in every situation. My passion for transformational travel was born.