I wrote this while sitting in the airport in Tokyo. It's a long one, so make sure you have plenty of free time.
============
I’m sitting in Narito Airport in Tokyo, Japan. Thailand has come and gone. I’ve been so busy in the last few weeks preparing for the concert that I don’t think I’ve taken any time to really sit down and process my experience. That may have been subconsciously intentional. I have a hard time saying goodbye, and this time was no different.
That said, a little detour to say that the concert was great. The students totally blew my expectations out of the water. They worked really hard and, in the end, you could tell that they really enjoyed themselves. I think they are going to continue the choir—I mean, they started it because I came. This was the first choral concert that SSRU has ever worked on. I feel totally blessed to have been apart of the inaugural group. Expect videos soon.
I also want to say how impressed I am with how they handled the logistics of the concert. I don’t know exactly how to put it in words. If you’ve seen a Thai concert before, you know what I mean. I mean, they went out and got flowers and arranged them for decorations. Some of the girls stepped up to put their outfits together. They worked so hard to make sure it was the best that it could be.
Back to my point, I’m not entirely sure what has happened to me over the last two-and-a-half months. My experience has been totally different from what a tourist would have experienced. I lived in the city. I became a part of it, and it became a part of me. How this will affect me in the future is yet to be determined.
My friend, Ashley, one of my best friends from ISU, came to visit for the last few days. We outwardly processed what we were going through, about our self-discovery within the last year. Both of us have been taken out of our comfort zones to be out on our own in an unfamiliar place. We talked about our personality types and how they apply to our current situations. I am an ISFJ, and she is an INFJ, if you are familiar with Meyers Briggs. (Some people might consider that kind of stuff as hokey, as just another personality test, but it has really helped me understand myself.)
For me, that means that I am:
- loyal and devoted; always striving for harmony in my surroundings
- a natural mentor; I find great satisfaction in watching and helping other people grow
- conscientious, consistent, and meticulous; I prefer “detail oriented” to the term perfectionist
- quiet, modest, and reserved (to people who don’t know me, that might come off as “stand-off-ish,” when really I just don’t know how to interact with you upon a first meeting, not that I don’t care)
- dependable, a high sense of duty and responsibility
- only accepting of the highest standards for myself, and expect for others to be the best they can be; always looking for the best in others
- reluctant to take leadership positions, but I will take one if necessary. I would much rather be a secretary than a president where there are goals and expectations already spelled out—not that I’m lazy and can’t set goals myself, but I’m a GREAT supporter of those in charge. Not everyone can be at the top.
- always thinking in concrete terms (black and white, systematic), rather than abstracts and theories.
You can put “ISFJ” into Google and read about it for yourself.
Each one of those traits can be a strength, and depending on how I handle them, a weakness. For example, consistency is great in some circumstances where it is needed. Consistency can also keep me from branching out and embracing change. ISFJs have a really hard time dealing with change or a deviance from an established system.
Which brings me around to this whole experience. I shoved myself out of my comfort zone by getting on a plane on January 10, 2010 and coming to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. It was really hard at first. I mean, I wrote about it in one of the first blog posts. But, eventually, I sort of made a system for myself, and after a few weeks, I pretty much adapted. I got to know the people I work with and the students. I eventually settled into the food—and even tried some new things.
Trying new things. I guess that’s a big one for me. I tried congealed pork blood. Cow stomach lining. Squid was even a stretch for me. Oysters. And I even ate mushrooms and liver. If you know me at all, you know that textures bother me. All of these foods have similar textures. Squishy. Ick. But, I tried them, and they weren’t that bad. I mean, I wouldn’t eat pork blood all the time.
I think it’s important for ISFJs like me to step out of our comfort zones. It helps us learn how to deal with change. I mean, I don’t want to change who I am at the core. I like being loyal. I like having a small group of friends. I don’t mind being an introvert (which doesn’t mean I’m a loner—it just means that I need to process things internally and recharge by myself, alone time). I like being detail-oriented. But learning how to deal with change is difficult. It’s not natural for me. I like feeling secure. I guess that’s one thing that coming to Thailand did for me.
Like I said earlier, I lived in the city. I became a part of it, and it became a part of me. I always said that I don’t think I could ever live in the big city. I love being in nature, in the great outdoors with brilliant views. But the city is really not that bad, either. Surprisingly, I did alright. That “S” in ISFJ stands for sensing. I take in information via my five senses in a literal, concrete fashion. The city is full of exciting sights, smells, and sounds. I really enjoyed it. It was like a huge sensory playground. I also appreciated the times when I did get out of the city to visit the countryside.
Another thing that helped me cope with living in the city was the relationships that I formed with my students, the other music professors. I was very blessed to get a view of Bangkok from the inside. I never really felt like a tourist.
Earlier I mentioned that it is hard to cope with change. But on the other hand, part of the fun of living in a new place was figuring out how to get around. Finding where I was on a map. Recognizing places that I had passed before. I like maps. They are black and white and systematic. They work well for my mind.
The one thing I worry about is the temptation to return to “normal,” whatever that “normal” was before I came to Thailand. The thing is, I really don’t have the desire to go back to “normal.” Whatever minute difference has been made, I want to process it and let it do whatever it needs to do within me. It’s very similar to the temptation one might feel after a very intense summer missions trip with a youth group. You come home very affected, and promise yourself that you aren’t going back to the way things were before. And then six months later, you’ve all but forgotten the experience, and it’s almost like you never went at all.
We, as Americans, are spoiled with having things work. We are obsessed with being clean. We are very schedule oriented, our lives run by time. Things don’t always go that way in Thailand. For that reason, we can sometimes dismiss another culture, thinking that ours is “better.” I don’t think that I came into this experience with that mindset, but I am more aware of the fact that Thai culture is just… different. Not better, not worse. Different.
After all, the Thais have been practicing their culture for a lot longer than we have. Their hospitality runs very deeply. I was so impressed with how much respect the students gave me. Even though I am not much older (and probably younger) than some of them, they showed me respect. That’s not me being bigheaded, or to make myself bigger than what I am. But respect is not something American students readily give to their teachers. Go to any American high school. Sit in the cafeteria. Listen to their conversations. You won’t hear a lot of respect.
Don’t get me wrong—I am incredibly proud to be an American. I love our military and will do anything to support our boys. I love the freedom we have. I love the opportunities that I have had in education as a female. But, gosh, we can be so arrogant sometimes.
As a musician… well, this trip has helped me to see even more that I express myself best as a choral singer. I love choir. I can’t say that enough. I love incorporating theory and history into lessons in order to give students a more holistic view of the music they are performing. I love working on phrasing and diction and all of that. Voice matching was awesome. The phenomenon that is the voice never ceases to amaze me. Voice matching is essential for helping a choir’s intonation. It’s kind of like tuning a piano. Before you tune it, the touch is off, and it just doesn’t sound as great. After tuning, the touch is like a dream. Something about the sound waves just makes it easier to play. In the same way, voice matching allows the sound waves to fit in with each other. (See what I mean about being a choral musician? I’m such a nerd!)
The “behind the scene” thing I mentioned was me applying for a music teaching position at a bilingual school near Bangkok. However, the position requires more elementary teaching than I feel comfortable doing. I love little kids, and I loved working at the Center, but I’m not an elementary teacher. After some personal reflection about who I am as a musician and where I want to go professionally, I think that if offered the position, I will decline. I’ve been having a hard time with that. Is that okay? Am I crazy? Getting a job back in the US is going to be rough, though… shouldn’t I take it so that I have some sort of security?
I cannot do something if my heart is not in it. I would rather take a lower paying job if I found it more fulfilling than any higher-paying job where I don’t really care about what I’m doing.
Getting to conduct two concerts has been a blast. I had so much fun at the Thammasat concert. Those students are great and are eager to improve themselves as musicians, even though none of them are music majors. They just love to sing. And this concert at SSRU was so fulfilling in that I got to work with the students from day one. I saw where they struggled and watched them work to improve upon those weaknesses. I saw leaders emerge to step up and help their peers. They, too, really enjoyed performing as a choir, and I sincerely hope they continue what they’ve started.
It’s night time on the plane, and we are crossing the Pacific Ocean. I wish you could look outside my window and see what I am seeing. I can’t see the ocean since it is the middle of the night. But there are clouds, and a slight fog in the distance. The stars can clearly be seen. It looks similar to the Pirates of the Caribbean when they are traveling to Davy Jones’s locker to rescue Jack. It kind of looks like that.
And now the sunrise is starting to appear on the horizon. Quite the view, indeed.
I think I’m all processed out for now. More to come later, I suppose!
