What Fresh Hell is This?

Night fell on Chiang Mai and so did the rain.

The locals tell me it hasn’t rained in ages. But the skies opened up the night after the USA elected Donald Trump as president, and they continue to weep.

My Thai host is apologetic. I can’t do the outdoorsy things that Chiang Mai is popular for, like hiking up Doi Suthep or frolicking in the sticky waterfalls. But I don’t mind. The weather looks the way I feel.

I woke up on the morning of America’s Election Day with hope in my heart. Any nerves I had previously had about the election were gone. I had cast my absentee ballot months ago, of course, but I was excited to watch the results unfold. I scurried along the edge of Chiang Mai’s Old City gates to an Irish pub to meet Katie and Jessica, two American gals I befriended while volunteering at Elephant Nature Park. We were meeting up with the Chiang Mai chapter of Democrats Abroad to watch the returns, twelve hours ahead of the East Coast. Although I was sort of excited for the unique opportunity to watch an election while abroad, I found myself wishing I was home with my friends and family. We were about to elect our first female president! As a child, one of my favorite books was a biography of Susan B. Anthony. I thought of her, and of Hillary, and of all my strong female friends who have endured misogyny and assault and harassment on both subtle and serious levels, myself included. I thought of my friends’ young daughters, who might grow up to know women as equally viable presidential candidates and not give them a second thought as something unusual or exceptional. And I wished I was with my sister, who cried happy tears along with me last summer as Hillary gave her candidate’s acceptance speech, and with my funny and fierce friends, who were celebrating with taco dip shaped in an H.

The bar was bustling and I ordered a round of beers with our coffees…after all, it was 9 pm in New York! And then, well…I don’t need to tell you what happened. The chatter quieted, our faces dropped, and I experienced my first stomach upset in nearly three months of traveling in southeast Asia.

Katie, Jessica and I walked out of the bar several hours later, dazed and confused but without any Matthew McConaughey to cheer us. We walked slowly through the streets with no direction, trying to find things that would perk us up. An apple pie latte at an Into the Woods themed cafe. Pineapple soap at an herbal gift shop. A glass of red wine and a pizza in an outdoor garden. On most days, these might have delighted me. Not today. The girls and I finally parted ways and I stumbled home, curled up in the hammock, and began to cry.

Part of the reason I took this trip was to find a sense of place. After ten years in NYC, I was feeling it was time to move on, but I didnt know where to go. So as I travel, I have been soliciting  suggestions as I meet other US travelers. Bay Area folks share my consternation: we love our cities, but they are killing us with their prices and stress. Chicagoeans are overwhelmingly positive about their city, but can I survive those winters? I long for a little patch of land to call my own, so moving somewhere more rural appealed. The Pennsylvania town I grew up in is no longer home, and I don’t think Brooklyn is anymore, either. I did not think the digital nomad life was permanently for me, so I always thought I would return home to the US.

But now…

This isn’t about liberal versus conservative. It is about humanity. How can I live in a country that gave the highest office in the land to a man with no political experience? To a bigoted racist who paints entire religions and cultures with derogatory slurs, who says flat out disgusting things about women, who petulantly takes to Twitter with tantrums like a fourth grader anytime someone says something marginally negative about him? A man with the vocabulary of a kindergartener? Someone with exactly no diplomacy thrust into the role of a diplomat?

How can I live next door to people who think that kind of person should have the nuclear codes?

I have really been thrown for a loop, thinking about my next move. I don’t recognize this country.

I don’t know where home is, anymore, but I am not sure it is America.