The Courage to Admit What You Don't Know and a Story from Thailand

The tsunami caused by the earthquake that occurred in Indonesia on December 26, 2004 (local time) hit Phuket (December 25th). I was there at that time.

It had been about 5 months since I quit my job, packed my bags with my wife, and arrived in Phuket for a break.

By that point, I was getting bored with leisure, so I was working as a dive master at a dive shop to obtain a SCUBA diving instructor certification.

The tsunami completely devastated the western coastal areas of Phuket, Khao Lak, and Phi Phi Island.

Phi Phi, including the bustling commercial areas and hotels, was submerged and then drained, leaving the island in complete ruins.

A few days after the tsunami hit, the dive shop was also damaged by the tsunami, and all diving activities were halted. So, I was helping a volunteer group that had come from Korea.

Early in the morning, I received a call from Mr. Joy, the owner of Phuket Sunrise Guesthouse (it no longer exists).

The guesthouse housed the volunteer group's staff.

He said they needed someone to drive a pickup truck to load supplies onto a boat going to Phi Phi Island.

I readily agreed and hurried to the guesthouse, where the supplies were already loaded.

I received the keys and, after being told that time was of the essence, I immediately set off.

I was only told that the supplies needed to be loaded onto a boat called Paradise 2000 (Songphan), so I stepped on the gas.

There are two ferry terminals in Phuket that serve Phi Phi: Khao Sire Pier and Rassada Pier.

At that time, I only knew about Khao Sire Pier.

Since Khao Sire was the only pier I knew, I headed straight there.

I took a shortcut that was known only to locals and arrived at the port earlier than expected.

But the boat wasn't there. That's when I realized something was wrong.

'Oh no! Darn it!'

A chill ran down my spine.

I racked my brain, trying to recall the details from before.

"You know the XXX pier where the ferry leaves, right?" Mr. Joy had said.

I hesitated for a moment.

'There's probably only one pier, right?'

But it seemed a bit different from the name of the pier I knew...?

Maybe it's just a different name for the same place?'

I should have asked more precisely at that time.

"No, I don't know." I should have answered.

But without realizing it, I had answered "Yes" and sat in the driver's seat.

Even if I knew, I should have double-checked and asked more clearly.

I called back and asked about the pier name again and asked nearby rabchang (motorcycle taxis) where Rassada Pier was. This was before the days of Google Maps.

People started gesturing and getting busy, trying to show me the way.

Then a young man stepped forward, said "follow me", and started his motorcycle.

I started following him.

I frantically stepped on the gas pedal, weaving through the alleys, and somehow...

When I arrived at Rassada Pier, I was about 5 minutes late.

The boat and people were waiting, and as soon as the truck arrived, volunteers and the boat crew rushed to unload the supplies.

I was relieved that I wasn't too late, but I had driven frantically on my own.

As I got out of the car, sweat trickled down my back.

I should have said I didn't know and asked for clarification, but...

Ever since I started working in Seoul, I've had a kind of aversion to admitting that I don't know something.

I don't know why I was afraid to say I didn't know.

Even though it led to things going wrong and ultimately resulted in regret.

After that incident, I decided I shouldn't pretend to know something I don't.

Later, one of the staff members I was working with said to me,

"XX, you're so great at saying you don't know when you don't. It's really impressive."

I'm not sure if it was a compliment or sarcasm, but I chose to take it as a compliment.

But lately, I feel like I'm falling back into my old habit of pretending to know things.

I've lived in Korea for too long.

In our society, admitting you don't know something feels like committing a crime.

It's not wrong; it's just that you don't know.

It's okay to not know.

You can learn and find out. But...

I was surprised to find myself unable to say 'I don't know' as boldly as before. So...

I need to live the way I think.

Think the way I live,

Because I've been speaking out of habit without thinking,

I hesitate to say 'I don't know' when I don't know something or...

I make the mistake of pretending to know something.

"I'm not sure."

I'll regain my composure and live my life by saying I don't know when I don't know.

After arriving at the port, when I tried to pay the rabchang youth who had given me directions,

He refused the money and coolly rode off.

Knowing that we were volunteers

and that the supplies were water for the victims and materials for recovery efforts,

he didn't want to accept payment.

Although our conversation was brief, using a mix of basic Thai and English, I understood his intentions perfectly.

Initially, I had preconceived notions about Thai people.

Because Phuket is a tourist destination, I had first encountered the commercial attitudes of people who dealt with tourists, which led to my biases.

When taking a tuk-tuk, you always have to negotiate with the drivers.

If you accept the initial price they call out, you're likely to be taken advantage of, and overcharging is commonplace.

Those people, whom I had perceived as only interested in money,

willingly gave us rides without charging when they saw me in my volunteer vest and readily gave us a thumbs-up.

When they realized we were helping them, they readily offered the resources they could provide.

It was a moment of epiphany.

I have more stories to tell about the kindness of the Thai people, but I'll save that for another post.

In short, they are incredibly kind and always have a smile ready.

The best thing about Thailand was that people would smile whenever our eyes met.

Young, beautiful women and even rough-looking older men never hesitated to smile.

I encourage you to pursue your challenges.

Just keep going.