When I first signed up for this exchange in Thailand, I imagined vibrant markets, temple visits, eating noodles in the heat of the day like a local and personal growth through travel. And yes, all of that happened. But what no one tells you is how strange it feels to suddenly be dropped into a new life and be expected to live it like it’s always been yours. It’s been months since I arrived in Bangkok, and the city still often feels surreal, It’s like a movie set I haven’t quite finished rehearsing for. I go to class, I navigate the local supermarkets, I chat with people. And yet, every once in a while, I wake up expecting to hear the sounds of my street back home, to step into my old kitchen, or to run into someone I’ve known for years. Living in Bangkok doesn’t quite feel like my life yet. It still has that weird sense of imposter, like I’ve been temporarily placed in witness protection.
Plastic Chairs and Familiar Chaos
What’s funny is how often Thailand reminds me of home,of Bulgaria and the Balkans in general. It hits in unexpected ways. Like paying with cash almost everywhere – no cards, no fuss, just coins and crumpled bills pulled from the pocket of my jeans. Or the way people sit outside smoking and drinking on plastic chairs, laughing loud and not caring who hears them. There’s something raw and familiar about that. There is something that makes me feel like I’m back in Sofia on a random Tuesday night. Personal growth through travel
There’s also this strong sense of community, even in a city as massive as Bangkok. It’s the lady at the 7-Eleven who now knows I always buy that one onigiri. It is the street vendor who tries to joke with me using three English words and a lot of body language. It’s that Balkan vibe of people who try, even when you don’t share a language.
I find myself gossiping over sunflower seeds again, something I didn’t realize I missed until I was doing it in the common parts of my accommodation. And sure, the neighborhood store here is a corporate chain, but the rhythm of going there daily for something small – an ice cream, a phone top-up, a snack I don’t need, feels exactly the same.
It’s like the past has found little ways to travel with me.
Ghosts of Friendship in the Market Lighs
And then there are the things that remind me of the Netherlands—not the country exactly but the people I associate with it. I see traces of the friends I wrote about in my first post scattered all over this new life. I’ll see something glittery in a night market and immediately think, “Sisi would die for this.” The same goes for the fast food chain here that sells pretzels—it’s not the same as home, but it’s enough to make me smile and think of Janne and her oddly specific snack cravings. Every time I walk past a cafe, I instinctively want to drag Elvira there, open a book we’ll never finish, and just sit in the calm of it all. Even in the snacks I find little reminders. I spotted Dubai chocolate in a supermarket the other day, ones I knew were expensive, and immediately thought of how Marwa would’ve wanted but refused to buy them just on principle. The people I love are all around the world and old memories, but here, their ghosts pop up. They make Bangkok feel less foreign, like parts of my friends are peeking through the gaps in the unknown making it familiar.
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The Freedom of Being Lost
But of course, some things here are unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
The sheer chaos of traffic where lanes are just suggestions. The smell of grilled meat mixed with exhaust fumes, sweet fruit, and incense all on the same street corner. I’ve eaten things I can’t name, taken boats instead of buses, and learned to use my hands more than my words when ordering food. Personal growth through travel
School isn’t just lectures. It is field trips to rice fields, tea houses and temples. The food markets are dizzying and beautiful. I’ve taken more photos of chili pastes than I thought humanly possible. There’s something freeing about being so far from what I know. It gives me permission to be a little lost. I’ve started journaling more, talking to strangers more, and wearing colors I normally avoid. Personal growth through travel
I’m not sure if that’s Thailand or just me changing…
I don’t know if Bangkok will stop feeling like a temporary stop and start feeling like a version of home since there’s no much time left. But I learned it’s not about fully replacing one life with another, but watching the edges blur. My Balkan habits, my Dutch friendships, and this new Southeast Asian rhythm are all mixing together in unexpected ways. And maybe that’s the point, not to recreate what I had, but to recognize how deeply it lives inside me, even when everything around me changes. For now, I’ll keep eating sunflower seeds on plastic chairs, paying in coins and texting my friends every time something screams their name. It might still feel alien on some days,but more and more, it’s also starting to feel like mine.