As I sit down to write this final report, I can hardly believe that my time in Khon Kaen is coming to an end. What once felt like a year stretched endlessly in front of me now feels like it has passed in the blink of an eye. It’s strange how a place that once felt foreign can now feel like home — not because of the buildings or the streets, but because of the people, the routines, and the memories that have grown around me.
Volunteers from Germany have joined our project. I was so excited to welcome them, show them our school, and take them to my favorite spots in the city — the night market, the coffee place near the temple, and the lake where we always watch the sunset. It felt a little strange at first to suddenly have so many other Germans around, but very soon it just felt right. Life in Khon Kaen has changed a lot since they arrived — in the best possible way.
The days have become livelier. We visit each other’s classrooms, help prepare lessons together, and sometimes even teach side by side. It’s inspiring to see how differently everyone approaches their classes and how we all learn from each other.
It’s one thing to tell your family or friends back home about life here, but they will never truly feel it — no matter how many pictures or stories you share. Even people who have been to Thailand often only know the beaches in the south or the busy streets of Bangkok. They don’t know the early mornings in a small village school or the warmth of a teacher who hands you sticky rice just because she noticed you haven’t eaten yet. Or the random things that still leave me cultureshocked — things you would never expect to see, like an entire family with a dog and even a turtle sitting on one motorcycle at the same time. But now, with the new volunteers, I have people who really understand — people who see and feel exactly what I see and feel every day.
That shared understanding means more to me than I can express. It creates a bond that goes beyond friendship — it’s like having a small family here. But at the same time, it also makes saying goodbye harder. These people have become part of my story, part of my version of Khon Kaen.
Of course, this year was not always easy, and I would be lying if I said that I never thought about quitting or changing the project. I struggled at times, felt out of place, and missed my family and friends back home very much. But now, at the end of this year, I can say with certainty that everything happened for a reason – including my decision to stay. Staying here meant, and still means, a lot to me. It shows me that even when I feel stuck and alone, and it seems like no one can help me feel happy again, I can still rely on myself.
But it also makes it harder to leave. With every new friend, every student, every teacher, and now with every new volunteer, I’ve built little pieces of a family here. Thinking about leaving them all behind feels heartbreaking. If the goodbye hurts, you know you ´ ve spent your time well. But one thing I know for sure: this goodbye is not forever. I will come back. Maybe not right away, but Khon Kaen has found a permanent place in my heart.
This year has changed me in ways I never expected. I’ve learned what it means to be patient, to adapt, to let go of control and trust in myself. I’ve learned to connect beyond language, to find joy in simplicity, and to see beauty in the smallest things — a smile, a wave, a shared meal. I’ve learned that home isn’t just one place. It’s the feeling you carry when you’ve been seen, accepted, and loved — even far from where you were born.
By Lola Rosa One year program volunteer at VSAMLTV1401: RPK50 School-Khonkaen