The Week That Changed Everything
The Week That Changed Everything
You know that feeling when you’re somewhere new and your brain keeps whispering, “This is temporary”?
That’s how our first week in Thailand started.
Even after the elephant adventure, the laughter, and the excitement of having the family here — it still felt like we were just visiting.
A long, beautiful layover.
And then, somewhere between our fifth 7-Eleven run and our first attempt at navigating the local market, something shifted.
The 7-Eleven Stage of Expat Life
Every expat’s journey begins at 7-Eleven — it’s like a rite of passage.
Where else can you buy bottled water, laundry soap, coconut toasties, and an iced latte all at 2 a.m.?
The kids quickly developed a love affair with toasties (especially the ham-and-cheese ones).
We joked that we’d become “professional snack curators.”
Our fridge was still empty — but the 7-Eleven bag collection under the counter was thriving.
It was ridiculous, and perfect.
The Market Misadventure
A few days in, we decided it was time to brave the local market.
Savannah and I grabbed reusable bags, the kids in tow, and set out to “buy things like locals.”
We lasted 10 minutes before realizing we had absolutely no idea what half the products were.
The vendors smiled patiently as we wandered the aisles like confused tourists on a mission.
We came home with something that actually made the beds softer — small miracle — and toothpaste that, surprise, had salt in it.
It was fine. We were fine.
Right? 😅
The Language Barrier That Made Us Laugh
If you’ve ever used Google Translate in a grocery aisle, you know.
Sometimes it’s magic. Sometimes it’s chaos.
Mike once tried to buy milk and ended up with yogurt drink.
Savannah asked for ice and got three bags of rice.
And at least once a day, someone said “thank you” in Thai — at completely the wrong time.
But here’s the thing: the laughter never stopped.
No one was impatient.
Every smile felt like a little piece of understanding — even when words didn’t match.
The Moment It Hit Us
By the end of that first week, we sat outside our apartment, barefoot, sipping something cold and sweet from a plastic cup.
The city hummed around us — scooters, chatter, the smell of street food in the air.
And for the first time, it felt right.
We weren’t tourists anymore.
We weren’t visitors.
We were home — in a place that didn’t need to make sense to make us feel like we belonged.
Reflections
That week changed everything.
It taught us to laugh at the confusion, to embrace the small wins, and to find joy in the ordinary.
It reminded us that sometimes, “settling in” doesn’t look like stability — it looks like surrender.
And honestly, we wouldn’t have it any other way.