Earlier today I ventured into my local Thai gym for a spinning class. I just moved to this new area, so I joined the local gym to sweat off the stress of teaching at a Thai school.

I walked in and immediately noticed a Thai grandma on a stationary bike in the front of the room. She wore a bright red sweatband and flared yoga pants, and was in her 60s-70s. I took note of the five other Thai people in the class, the instructor ‘wai’ed to us (bowed), and then the class began.

The class speeds ahead and I immediately fumble on my bike, trying to get in synch with the others. The instructor spoke Thai, but would occasionally throw in phrases in English like ‘faster, faster,’ and ‘stand up’ for my benefit.

The class revs up and my heart is pounding out of control. My entire face grimaces involuntarily, and I can feel my cheeks reddening as deep as a tomato. I look over at the Thai grandma and her face is still as stone, her little legs furiously pedaling beneath her. It’s like she’s watching TV, or taking a nice leisurely walk. I’m not sure her red sweatband was necessary at all!

All the sudden I recognize the song blaring from the speakers, and I have to chuckle under my breath. Listening to Chris Brown’s “Don’t Wake Me Up” while trying to keep up with the Thai grandma on the bikes was a bizarrely hilarious moment in time. It’s moments like these when I remember that I am the foreigner. Not in a bad way, just that I’m not from here, yet I live here. And that I’m doing okay.

Halfway through the class my mind screams ‘Su Su’ to me as I force my legs to pedal harder and faster. ‘Su Su’ is a common Thai phrase that translates to ‘keep going,’ or ‘keep fighting.’ I used it all the time during finals week or when my students were taking a particularly difficult test. Almost simultaneously as I have this thought, I catch the phrase ‘Su Su’ out of the instructor’s mouth. Again, I smile under my breath.

The class finishes with another ‘wai’ and I walk outside the room to see the Thai grandma smiling and eating watermelon. I smile and wai to her, and she offers me wedges of her watermelon. I graciously accept, and I’m gluttonously chomping away when I hear her ask, ‘You going to body pump class?’ I ask when it is, thinking maybe I’ll clear up my schedule and join the class later in the week. She looks at her watch and says ’30 minutes.’ I laugh and shake my head, shocked that this little old lady is taking yet another high intensity workout class in the same night.

Even 8,000 miles from my hometown, I feel at home in the warmth of kind gestures. In the comedic moments of every day life. In building a beautiful life for myself.

Since moving to Thailand a year and a half ago, I’ve often pondered the feeling of living as a foreigner. How exciting it can be, but also isolating. I’ve thought about the foreigners (for some reason always called ‘immigrants’) living in my home country of the United States, and how they must feel.

Living as a foreigner has brought forth empathy in a rare way. It’s laborious, and humbling, and most definitely infuriating at times. But I feel grateful to have been given this perspective, to be in a country that accepts me and teaches me.

Next time you get annoyed at a worker who cannot speak perfect English, think about how you would feel living in their shoes as a foreigner. Think about going far far away, to a place that doesn’t speak your language or have similar customs, and think about how you would feel. Then show that person the same kindness that Thai people have shown me.

It’s a simple lesson, but it cuts me deep.

xx Gracie