A Girl from an Exotic Place – Part 1/2

Tonight, the moon hides behind clouds, leaving Bangkok’s high-rise skyline aglow under rows of streetlights. There is a girl, not much of a girl anymore from her appearance, but her bright and shining soul still definitely belongs to a girl. She walks along the bustling street, observing the lively scene of department stores and the intersecting sky trains.

Many people from various parts of the world view the city of Bangkok as exotic. The girl hates this label; it evokes a sense of being part of a spectacle like in a zoo for others to observe. While people might have a different opinion, for her, the word does have a sinister meaning to it. Perhaps it’s because this is the place where she grew up—familiar and comforting—but hearing others describe her homeland as exotic bothers her, suggesting that the place she considers normal is, in fact, viewed otherwise.

The underlying cause could be her desire to fit into the so-called ‘normality’ of the first-world country where she currently lives. The fact that she comes from this exotic country only emphasises in her heart that she is indeed an outsider in her current environment. What she fails to realise is that many within this realm of first-world normality desire to escape, to feel exotic, to be different. The grass is indeed always greener on the other side.

The girl has flown for more than eleven hours from another continent to spend three weeks of her holiday here. She wishes to spend this time with her family and childhood friends, filling the voids that have become larger over the years due to the lack of their encounters. She longs to reconnect with the familiarity and friendships she has struggled to maintain over long distances. Yet whenever they meet, it feels as if no time has passed.

Observing the scene in front of her, she reminisces about the times and places in the country where she once lived, pondering how her life might have been if she had chosen to stay. For ten years, she has been living outside this familiar country of hers. Standing here in the heart of Bangkok, it feels both familiar and alien at the same time.

She doesn’t know exactly why she is feeling sad—sad to witness the differences between where she currently lives and where she used to. It’s not that her life is miserable; she is happily married and secured a well-paying job in a wealthier country, doing work that interests her. Yet she is sad because being here in Bangkok emphasises the differences—the ridiculously huge gap between people in Thailand.

It pains her to see an old beggar lady who clearly looks like she hasn’t eaten much, sitting in front of a shopping mall that showcases luxury handbags costing as much as a house in this part of the world. It reminds her of the frustration she once felt in a society that judged people based on wealth and appearance. More often than that, opportunities are granted through connections and favours rather than morality and genuine ability. And corruption—so much corruption—pervades this country. None of this is new, but the fact that it hasn’t changed in a decade truly saddens her.