Cosmic Dive 01: 2000
Hello 2000, Love 2024
When I was seventeen years old, I ran away to Thailand. I ran away in plain sight, with parental approval. I was selected as a Rotary Exchange Student. They said I would be a great ambassador for Canada; I wanted to get as far away from home as I possibly could.
At the orienteering workshop, I was told to write down my top pick for exchange destinations. Hmm. New Zealand seemed attractive. I didn’t know much about it, but it met the criteria: it seemed very, very far away. Also, being a rural girl, I loved sheep.
I liked the idea of mountains and fluffy white sheep and lush green fields; I wanted to wear wool sweaters and cold water surf. The idea of Kiwi boys with cute accents sounded pretty swooney. It was the era of Leo.
In 1998, all selected exchange students across Ontario gathered for a weekend long orienteering weekend to prepare them for the following year abroad. The excitement level was through the roof. We were all going on trips of a lifetime — but, nobody knew where they were being sent to. I overheard other students say, “I want to go to New Zealand…” I started to realize the competition was fierce.
I was a little older than most of the other exchange students. Most were sent for grade 10, but my late spring birthday got me a pass. We were cocky and nerdy and totally stoked. We were the top academic picks from every high school across Ontario. We would be sent to live with different families in countries around the world, to attend their local high schools and be ambassadors for Rotary Club International.
I remember the orienteer coordinator scrawled in big letters across the blackboard one word: THAILAND. I remember a sound like static in the room. The coordinator was explaining that if you’d wanted to go to Australia or New Zealand, too bad, those picks were already chosen. One country which no one had selected yet, was Thailand, and could we please have a volunteer. I remember looking at the word scrawled in white chalk on the black board and thinking, I’ve never even HEARD of a country called Thailand. I had no idea where it was, but it sounded exotic and - number one criteria - very, very far away. My hand shot up.
Paying for the trip was another story. Once I landed, I’d live with host families and receive a monthly allowance to buy lunches at school or attend local events, but I had to get there. I remember it being an astronomical amount of money for my family at the time. To his credit, my Dad paid it. I wonder how long it took him. I can never thank him enough for that. He funded a pinnacle moment in my life that changed the course of who I was fundamentally. He sparked a life-long love of travel and learning and adventure. He taught me I could survive on my own.
Travel would become my life line.
In August of 1999, I found myself on a plane to Thailand, nestled beside another Canadian exchange student who had also been roped into going to Asia.
Looking back, my naiveté was astounding. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. You have to think back to the late 1990s. No one travelled to Thailand unless you were a backpacker, a businessman, or a Euro-Russian male interested in the sex trade. I had literally never heard of the country before. After I had volunteered, the Rotary Club coordinator gave me a book that had been written by a previous Rotary Exchange student who had gone in the early 90s. The book scared the shit out of me. It detailed the stark contrast I was about to experience in lifestyle in minute detail.
No toilets, just a hole in the ground. No sanitary pads. Yellow-fever. Disease.
Every Thursday, I tell travel stories. I’m going to be travelling in real time with my daughter, in an effort to teach her that the world isn’t actually that scary, that people aren’t inherently bad, and most places we travel to proves humanity is not just good — it’s extra-ordinary. This is hopeful. We are looking for every day miracles: one week at a time. Follow along….