“Home is not a place, it’s a feeling”

Six months ago, I stepped off the Airport in Khon Kaen. The sun was hot, the language was new, and everything felt different. I was full of questions: What will my school be like? Will the students understand me? Will I be able to connect with anyone? Will I find any friends ?

In the beginning, I wanted to meet as many people as possible. I was excited to learn about Thai culture, talk to locals, and be part of the community. But soon, I realized that this is not always easy. The language barrier makes things difficult. Even though I live in a time with Google Translate, it doesn’t do the talking for you. It can help with words—but not with building trust. It cannot replace a real conversation, a smile, or the courage it takes to approach someone.

Sometimes, I felt unsure. Do people want to talk to me? Do they understand me? And what do they think about me if we can’t speak to each other? I didn’t always know how I was being seen and I also didn’t know how to really get to know others. In a way, this can make you feel lost.

But then I learned something very important: Don’t compare yourself to others. Every volunteer experience is different, and that’s okay. Some people live near the beach, some have students who speak more English. But what I have here is special in its own way—and I started to see that more and more.

Because here, in this quiet village, I get to live very close to the local people. That is a big gift. Even though many people in the countryside are shy and don’t feel confident speaking with foreigners, they still try in their own ways. Every small connection—every smile, every invitation to dinner, every “hello” from a student—feels extra special. I’ve come to understand how meaningful it is when someone opens their home or shares food with me. These are not small moments—they are signs of trust.

In school, things also began to change. At first, it was uncomfortable for both me and the students. They didn’t know how to act around me, and I didn’t know how to teach when there was almost no English level. But slowly, we started to connect—through games, sports, drawing, and laughing. We started to feel more relaxed around each other. Now, they might still be shy, but we can share moments of fun. And that’s a big success.

One of the most beautiful things I’ve learned is this: a home is not made of walls—it’s made of people. And here, I found many people who made me feel safe and welcome. The teacher who always saves sticky rice for me. The students who wave at me from motorbikes. The neighbor who gives me fruit just because I pass by. These are the people who made me feel at home even far away from my real home.

These six months in Khon Kaen were not perfect, but they were real. Full of quiet, strong moments. Moments that don’t always look big from the outside, but that feel big in my heart. I have learned to be patient—with others and with myself. I have learned to listen more, to feelmore, and to appreciate the small things.

And I’ve learned that sometimes, just being there—showing up, smiling, trying—is more important than speaking the same language. Because understanding doesn’t always need words.

By Lola Rosa in VSAMLTV1401: RPK50 SCHOOL-KHONKAEN June 2025