A bit of a hiatus

I've been limiting my time spent sitting in front of the computer as part of my recovery, so I've been on a hiatus of sorts. Of course, I now have a backlog of posts that need updating. Those will be rolled out in the next few weeks. I will also be going on my first major road trip next week! I will definitely be doing live updates of that trip. Check back here for updates!

This is just too much!

There should be a TV channel solely dedicated to cute animals and babies. Seriously. I would watch it all day. The endorphins that come rushing in from watching these little guys would relieve any bad day. This picture alone has made me reconsider eating pork. It's so cute; I feel like my heart is exploding!

Via jezebel.com

The "Nudge"

I received this Valentine's card from my not-so-secret admirer today, with this comment:

  

"I saw this card and it reminded me of you telling me about the nudge scene--I hope you think it's funny now that it's been so long ago." 

Oh my...the "Nudge". I haven't thought about the Nudge in such a long time, so this gentle (and HILARIOUS) reminder really brought it all back. It's funny how certain events in your life can feel so momentous at the time, but then after a while, it just completely slips your mind. Its significance, once a burden on your memory, is forgotten and tucked away in some forgone region of your subconscious. Until, you receive something like this in the mail and it all comes rushing back...

So, let me entertain you guys on this Valentine's Day with the story of the infamous Nudge, complete with the over-the-top dramatics of what I remembered feeling like at the time, and of course, the lessons I've learned in all its ridiculous glory. 

The Nudge began as what I thought to be a date. But then again, the whole day--no, the whole situation was predicated on the idea of what I thought. It's really amazing how our mind can work to deceive us, covering up all the holes and cracks to ensure that the castle we've built in our head can remain intact. In hindsight, I should have acknowledged them, but whatever. I had just bought new boots. Awesome leather boots that I wanted to you know, show off, and this was the perfect opportunity. 

So, the day was somewhat planned. And it was nice! I was feeling pretty good. Person seemed to be digging things. Conversation was flowing; It felt effortless, easy, and if you know me, that can be somewhat difficult when I'm around strangers. Bonus points, right? As our pre-planned events began to wind down, we still had the whole day left, and I kept thinking, "Okay, what's next?" I knew I wanted to continue the day. I thought I was getting the same vibe from the person, but I didn't know how to bring it up and most of all, I was just too shy to do so. So, we're walking, walking, walking. As we get closer to the train station, I'm thinking, "Okay...is this it?" We're walking down to the tunnel now and in my mind I'm just "blah," while keeping up a cheery exterior giving the fool directions home because its the first time the person took the train.

At that point, the bubble was slowly bursting. I had this wonderful idea in my head to continue the day in Berkeley. I thought it'd be nice to show the person around the city, given the convenience from where we were already at. We seemed to enjoy each other's company, so I didn't think that was a bad idea at all. But before I could even propose the idea, the person kept asking about directions to get home, like he was somewhat worried about taking the wrong train (or really wanted to get home). As it gets to the point when I (and the person) realize this date is ending--there would be no continuing, no spontaneous show and tell through Berkeley--a palpable curtain of awkwardness just sets in. I mean, you couldn't have cut through that awkwardness with your finest steak knife. I felt fine, but it was very clear to me that all that ease that person had had, just disappeared. Conversation stalled to a halt. We're both just looking around, anywhere but at each other.

I was somewhat relieved to hear the train approaching. The roaring and rush of air gave some relief to the heavy air of awkwardness. Person then turns to me very shyly, thanks me for accompanying (as if I was some last ditch alternative), and gives me a side nudge. Person walks off. I can see the person walking through the train as my silent self absorbs the fact that I just got nudged. The train begins roaring away and the "what the heck, did he just nudge me" bewilderment sets in. Like, really? An elbow nudge? Not even a hug? Even a tender pat on the arm?! The back?! Anything else, but the side nudge! I spend the day getting to know you, the underlying premise that I like you, and I can't even get a hug? Have you guys ever seen the movie, Amelie? There's a scene when Amelie, confronted by the guy she is smitten with, is so overwhelmed by disappointment and embarrassment that her whole self just falls into a puddle of water. All her hopes, too heavy to longer bear, come splashing down. Dramatic? Yes. But that's how I felt in the moment I was nudged.

In hindsight, because of course, hindsight is always 20/20--my overreaction to the nudge was more a misplaced reaction to red flags about the whole thing. I learned some valuable lessons from the nudge. 1) I hate nudges. What the heck?! 2) Not to be shy about what I want or what I expect. Just say it. I'd rather get rejected off the bat than go through the shenanigans, get my hopes up, then deal with the consequences and the built-up emotions after. 3) I really do have the best support network. You guys are always the funniest when it comes to these situations, giving me hilarious advice and witty words of comfort to get through my mini-freakouts. It's a good feeling to know that I have a team of people cheering me on during my most awkward moments.

Special thanks to my not-so-secret admirer, Lien, for the funny trip down memory lane. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Fate or Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?

Every new years since college, I have gone to the temple to receive my yearly fortune. The process of kneeling before Buddha, all my hopes, wishes, and insecurities laid out in my prayers is one that I cherish. However, in the past few years, this process of collecting my yearly fortune has grown from merely a festive tradition to a necessity. The thing is, I am a firm believer in free will. The idea of some higher power controlling my fate is unsettling to me. Who wants to live with the idea that the choices we make are set in stone? That some of us are destined to live a life of ease while others, a life of misfortune? No matter our best intentions to make the right choices or how we treat others, our lives are predetermined. That's depressing.

My attachment to collecting my fortune, then, is at odds with this belief of mine. This is because for every year I have received my fortune, they have been spot-on. When I say spot-on, I mean that every prediction that I have received for every single year have been accurate in all areas--my health, family life, school/work life, travel prospects...everything. The first year I collected my fortune, I thought, "Okay, it's just a coincidence that my fortune predicted that I would travel outside of the country, come upon a large sum of money, and receive help while abroad." That year, I traveled to Europe, received a scholarship to fund my entire trip, and met some awesome, supportive friends along the way. Still, it was all a coincidence in my mind. Then, the next year and the next, I saw a pattern that was too difficult to continue casting off as just "coincidence." Recognizing this, I feel I've become sort of dependent on these fortunes to guide me throughout the year. And that's where this question of fate vs. the self-fulfilling prophecy comes in.

At what point is it actually fate that my yearly fortunes have been accurate or rather, a subconscious effort on my part to carry these predictions out and in effect, self-fulfilling these predictions? For example, last year I received an extremely positive fortune on all fronts. At the time, it really gave me a big boost of confidence. I felt that it was finally my year and in feeling this confidence, I approached all my goals with an unrivaled level of determination. If I didn't receive a sparkling fortune last year, would I still have had the confidence to carry out the big goals I had set out on? Or, did the fortune equip me with the right confidence that things were going to work out, so I made sure they would work because "otherwise" was just not an option? Fate or self-fulfilling prophecy?

This question has been floating around in my mind lately because I just got my yearly fortune and it's bad, my friends. It's as bad as a fortune can get. Apparently, my health will take a dramatic plunge this year (lack of health care, I'm assuming), people at work dislike me (LOL), I will be prone to accidents that will lead to spilled blood (what?!), and to top it all off, the Gods have it against me this year (it actually said that!). It's so bad that I find it kind of funny! But really, considering how accurate my fortunes have been, it is a bit scary. So, what does this mean? Will it mean that no matter what I do to combat the bad luck, bad luck will just befall me? Will I allow this fortune to affect me in such a way that I will subconsciously increase the risk factors of bad luck? OR, will I just forget the whole thing and live my life as I see fit. I choose the last choice.

I'm letting go of this whole fortune thing. I'm done believing predictions, even if they have been accurate. I could let this year's bad fortune influence me, but I'd rather not. Considering that I've been feeling pretty positive lately, last thing I need is a little voice inside my head adding paranoia to every small misfortune that I encounter this year as some broader conspiracy the Gods have hatched against me for not praying enough. I'm taking back the power of my own choices. Becoming dependent on these fortunes only means that I won't accept my own bad decisions as my own, that I won't try to approach my life positively when everything is negative. It is this defeatist attitude of believing in fate that bothers me most. I'd rather believe that even if things don't turn out well, at least I have my agency. At least I have the power to change my circumstances. Losing that belief in yourself is when you've reached the point that you've actually "lost yourself." I don't ever want that.

I'm returning to my original beliefs: My choices are completely my own. It is neither fate nor self-fulfilling prophecy. It is all me.

New year wishes!

It's officially the Year of the Cat! Video of my cousin wishing everyone a "Chuc mung nam moi!" and bowing to Buddha as best as his three-year old self can.

A much needed pick-me-up

You know those days when you're just not feeling...right. You don't necessarily feel "down", but you obviously don't feel "up" either. You can't exactly pinpoint what those feelings are or even where they originate from, but you just kind of feel unsettled and insecure. Well, I've been feeling this way, on and off, this whole week and...it sucks.

I've been trying to do little things to cheer myself up, like listen to a particular song or do some online shopping (I love Ebay), but they've all fell short of ridding this nagging downer I've been feeling. So, I turned to something that never fails to brighten my spirits nor that of anyone else I know---ice cream! And not just any ice cream, but "Thrifty" hand-scooped ice cream at Rite Aid.

If you never had Thrifty hand-scooped ice cream at Rite Aid, you've been missing out. Rite Aid's Thrifty brand of ice cream is dated way back when Rite Aid was known as "Thrifty Drug" and when it was still customary for pharmaceutical shops to also sell hand-scooped ice cream on its premises. "Thrifty Drug" was later bought out and renamed Rite Aid, but considering the generations of young'uns that grew up to love Thrifty Ice Cream, Rite Aid was smart enough to preserve the in-store ice cream shop (at least on the West Coast).

And so, this is where I headed to get that pick-me-up I so desperately needed. Of course, I had to pick up some buddies on the way and go through the requisite..."Wait, I'm lost...this is the wrong location...turn around, it's located at the OTHER Rite Aid." Apparently, not all Rite Aids serve hand-scooped ice cream. The closest Rite Aid (on the Eastside) that does have an in-store ice cream stand is located on McKee and White.

When we finally arrived and was immediately greeted by the "Thrifty Ice Cream" sign, I felt a little jump of excitement in my stomach, similar to those twinges of excitement I remember from childhood when my dad brought home M&M candies just because.

And really, who wouldn't crack a smile on their face when faced with the close possibility of eating delicious and very affordable ice cream. Because, it ain't called Thrifty ice cream for nothing! $1.29 for one sizable scoop of ice cream. Can you really beat that price? And (to me) it rivals the top ice cream chains in terms of taste and richness.

It also doesn't hurt when you know an employee at Rite Aid who can hook you up with extra servings! (That's why I love the Eastside, where I can always bump into old high school folks who are always more than happy to help me out) Thanks, friend!

On this particular day, I got the Black Cherry flavor. My buddy Amy got pistachio. It really was all I needed to take me away from the general 'blahness' I was feeling. Consuming this delicious cone of ice cream in the most unexceptionable surroundings... in the early evening, sitting outside in the Rite Aid parking lot, the sounds of shopping carts scraping concrete, over a chit-chat session with friends about random events, just enjoying the moment...yeah, that's exactly what I needed.

An extended vacation

It's been a while. Three weeks, to be exact, since I returned from Vietnam and updated this blog. I've been resting up during this time, restoring my depleted energy from three months of constant travel, heat exhaustion, and sensory overload. Vietnam really took a lot out of me. When I returned, it took me one week to get over a stomach bug (my goodbye present from Vietnam) and two weeks of dealing with jetlag for me to actually feel like myself again.

I have also been using this time to figure things out for myself. I left for Vietnam so abruptly, with all my college stuff still littered all over my parent's house, exactly as I left it three months ago and those big decisions to what I was going to do post-college unanswered. So needless to say, I still have a lot of figuring out to do. But instead of that usual abruptness I usually employ when making decisions, I'm going to take my sweet time figuring things out. Right now, I just want to enjoy my time back home, catch up with friends, and transition myself to life back in San Jose (which hasn't been as difficult as I thought it would be. I'm actually enjoying it here).

Now that I have regained energy, I will go back to updating this blog on a regular basis. Don't be surprised if this blog becomes "Vina's adventures in trying to find a job" because, well, excursions cannot finance themselves! Or, as my buddy Francisco suggested, "Life after Vietnam: The slow progression to the real world."But regardless of whatever that is ahead of me, I'm excited and (hopefully) ready. I'm looking forward to a trip down south to visit my brother in med school in a few days and also, a road trip through the northwest (and possibly up to Canada) with Jasmin in the fall. So, plenty of adventures ahead to keep you guys updated on.

Behind rose-colored glasses

There are a lot of things about Vietnam that frustrates me. There have been moments where I felt so disillusioned with this whole country that I felt ready to go home. I came here with a set of expectations, shaped by my childhood memories of my last visit and raised even more by travel documentaries poetically illustrating the wonders of this country.

It’s hard not to travel without a set of expectations. The whole point of traveling in the first place is because we have a set of expectations in our mind about what we would like to see and do in a new place. We don’t travel and expect to hate that place to which we’re traveling. What’s the point of travel then? We travel because we expect the new destination will offer us a new perspective, that we’ll learn more about a new culture, that we’ll be able to momentarily escape from our troubles back home, that we can sit on the beach with a beer in hand and not be bothered by our usual distractions. That is why we travel.

So of course, coming to Vietnam, I carried a set of expectations that I hoped to fulfill during my time here. Expectations about traveling throughout this country, family, getting an internship, learning about my dad’s past, about throwing myself headfirst into familiar yet strange culture that is my motherland.

And to be completely honest, despite all the rosy blog posts about my time here, all my expectations were unmet. All of them. Some more disappointing than others. There were some expectations that were…expected, but still frustrated me. Like, being treated different as a Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese). I knew that that was a given, that people will view me as a target for money or that their kind words are a mask to hide their resentment toward all Viet Kieus in general (especially American Viet Kieus). But even though I knew this was a given, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t piss me the hell off when it happens.

This expectation revealed itself immediately, the moment our plane landed and we were forced to bribe to get through customs. No one else has to do it, not the Vietnamese nationals, not any other foreigners, but Viet Kieus have to. We had to stick $5 in each of our passports so the customs jerks won’t give us trouble and let us through. It is beyond frustrating to look into the face of those bastards knowing that they are only giving us trouble because of our citizenship.

There are other things about the government that frustrates me, like the overall corruption, the ideology, etc., but I think if I go into details I will get into trouble…and I want to go home. Let’s just say that when there is corruption at the top, it will definitely trickle all the way down to the bottom. The root of many problems in Vietnamese society—the general distrust toward one another, the inability for good people (not tied to the government) to move up, the difficulty of doing honest business and become rich in this country—can be traced back to that problem.

There is also the matter of how Vietnamese people treat each other. I mentioned the general distrust people have with each other here. Of course in America, it’s not like I have my arms wide open in trust of strangers, but at least here I don’t have to worry about people scamming every second I turn. Here, you have to worry about getting yelled at the market for simply haggling, to the bus driver cheating you out of a few extra thousand dong on the bus fare, and the airport baggage claim workers who whisper in your ear threatening comments so you could fork over money to them (this actually happened to my mom). It’s tiring having to look over your back all the time, questioning everyone’s intentions toward you.

I also came here believing that Vietnam was an easy and cheap country to travel in. WRONG. First off, the roads in Vietnam are very undeveloped, making travel (even for locals) very difficult. Traveling the local way is VERY tiring—think long rides on old, rickety buses alongside smelly livestock. A trip from My Tho to Saigon is really only an hour, but on a bus, it is three. So if not the local way, you can take the taxi, charter a bus, or book a flight, but that ends up being quite pricey if you plan to travel throughout the whole country. So, you book a tour, which seems cheap at first, but ends up costing more than you actually paid because of obligatory tips to the driver, tour guide, and surprise costs that pop up during your trip. While Vietnam is still very cheap compared to, say Europe, it is not that cheap backpacker’s traveling paradise as some make it out to be. And, if you’re a foreigner, you’ll get ripped off everywhere. Guaranteed.

There was also the matter of getting an internship. I got one here, with the Red Cross branch in the countryside. I was excited, full of optimism, and ready to throw myself in whatever work they would give me. Then I met the person in charge, who upon first meeting me, spoke about how some American students like me also worked with her and raised money to build a bathroom for poor kids. At first I thought she was just telling me this just to share, until it became clear to me that she also expected the same from me—to raise money. Obviously, I didn’t have that capacity and made it clear by avoiding the subject of money altogether. Although I was accepted, I never got a call back from her about my work schedule. After this, I kind of dropped the hope of interning in Vietnam and did my own thing.

The most disappointing expectation was one I didn’t anticipate and that was of family. The very reason I’ve wanted to come back all these years was to visit my extended family here because they made my first visit so joyous and memorable. In the US, I grew up knowing only my small, immediate family. I didn’t have grandparents to defend me against angry parents, no aunts and uncles to spoil me, nothing. Before my first visit, I didn’t really understand what it meant to be part of a big family, of gathering together at Tet, of having cousins to play with, of being comforted knowing that I had a safety net beyond my parents. I came back to recreate those memories and to feel part of a big family again. Then I came and…it felt different. People had their own lives. My aunts and uncles had their own families to deal with. My cousins, oh god..., save for a few good ones, are...spoiled and disrespectful.

I understand that family is not perfect, but here’s the thing. All my siblings and I grew up poor, not having anything new or even the hope of our parents getting buying it for us because my parents scrimped and saved any money they had to send back to Vietnam, telling us that they were more in need of it than us. We were told at an early age that if we wanted anything, we would have to find a way to get it on our own. I don’t have anything against my parents for raising me that way. It is the best lesson my parents taught me—to learn to care for myself and be independent.

But then, coming back and seeing my cousins having grown up with so much more than I could even dared to imagine when I was little, in a country much poorer than my own, and (this is what gets me the most) seeing them act materialistic, disrespectful to their parents, and lacking the ability to be independent has made Tammy and I resentful for the sacrifice we had to make. I’ve tried to tell myself that while they might have grown up having more than me materially, I still have more opportunities than them. But then I see them act spoiled and resentment just stirs in me.

Because of this, it has made it difficult to feel the warmth I once did toward some members of my family as I did feel on my first visit. Of course, I still love my family. My mom’s side is impossibly good to me. They see that all my siblings and I were raised with good values to understand the value of hard work, to know how to share, to feel empathy toward others less fortunate, and to respect our parents. They see this and they respect my mom and treat me really well. But, the disappointment of not being close to everyone like before has been a hard, emotional fall. When it’s strangers that disappoint you, you accept it as a fact of life. But when it’s family, it hurts in a way that is difficult to fully grasp.

There was an upside in all of these disappointments, as there always is. I'm sort of glad that I experienced them because it made me appreciate those things worth appreciating even more. Unlike some who come to this country, I got to experience both sides of Vietnam--the beautiful and the ugly side. It also reminds me of my age, that I am old enough to understand that everything is so much more complex than the surface may reveal, and to learn from this. This trip didn't make me hate this country, or the people, or my family. It opened my eyes and was a lesson to not wear rose-colored glasses to every new place I visit. Nothing is perfect, nobody is perfect, no experience will ever be perfect.

Oh Em Gee...studio pics

I am SOOO glad I did not inherit my mom's affinity for taking pictures, or I would have ended up with pictures that looked like this:

And this
Glamour shots are all the rage in Vietnam these days, especially for Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese) who are lured in by the dirt cheap prices and being photoshopped into an unrecognizable version of oneself. For about $50, you too can become owner to the most awkward set of glamour shots to show off to your friends.

My mom's friends convinced her to take studio pictures while here, telling her that she will look like a movie star in her pictures. Even though I knew what was to come out of this, I also encouraged her because I am always down for a good laugh, especially if it is at my mom (we have that type of relationship where we like to make fun of each other as much as we can). And...what a good laugh the whole experience was.

First, they painted a ridiculous amount of makeup on my mom's face. In any other context, I would have greatly objected to this strong-handed application of makeup, but the "stylists" insisted that this was necessary.

She was annoyed that I was taking pictures of her pre-photoshop.
And then came the scrambling of wardrobe changes, quick changes to the lighting, and the awkward positioning of poses...
They asked if she wanted to take pictures in Chinese or Japanese traditional outfits. I quickly chimed in and answered, "Yes! Kimonos would make for an interesting look!"
Oh, the giggles that came from these shots...

My mom is in LOVE with these pictures. She WILL NOT STOP looking at them. Anytime I go downstairs, I find her in the same spot in the living room, flipping through her photo album, admiring herself. On the day she picked up her pictures, she was so excited to show off her pictures to my uncles that when she ran over to his house, she dropped 600,000 Vietnamese dong on the ground, only to realize after the rush of excitement wore off that she lost all that money. Since taking the pictures, I have to hear her all day talking about how her pictures make her look like a famous singer, how my dad will surely be enamored by them....OMG.

I mean, it's not that my mom looks bad in them. It's just that...it doesn't look like her. They photoshopped her into an unrecognizable woman 10 years younger than she actually is. They made her nose taller, her wrinkles vanished, filled out her face, basically got rid of any personality from her face. They didn't even let her smile a full smile, which is a loss because she didn't get to reveal her distinct dimples--the only facial attribute (my favorite) that I inherited from her.

This is the mom I recognize, the mom I love to make fun of all the time for simply being her ridiculous self, and the mom that wouldn't trade for all the money in the world (or at least the $50 it cost to take the pictures) to look like an '80s-era Vietnamese singer. She may look her age, but at least she looks like she has a personality.

Soothing my bites

Mosquito bites suck. They itch like crazy and of course, my lack of self-control and unnaturally thin skin has led to the total scarring of my legs. My family regularly asks me if I'm embarrassed by my scarred legs. Uhh..not really? And then they ask me again and again and even strangers I meet on the street ask me what happened to my legs. Of course, then, I'm starting to feel a bit self-conscious about them (but they itch so bad! and they don't look that bad to me). So to prevent further scarring and awkward questioning from family/strangers (which, btw, is such a Vietnamese thing to comment on others' embarrassing physical ailments, right in front of them), I've employed a new method:

Putting my Berkeley mind at work people...

World Cup fever

Like nearly every other country in the world right now, Vietnam is in a frenzy over the World Cup. It's hard to walk anywhere at night and not hear those annoying vuvuzelas and wild cheers coming from the homes of millions of people hooked to the television sets to watch the game. You could ride around Saigon and know when a goal was made--the whole city literally erupts in cheers (minus the Paraguay vs North Korea game. That game was just painful to watch). The next day, it is common to hear people begin their morning greeting with, "Did you watch the game last night?"

It's all very interesting to me, as a complete outsider to this "football culture" that every country seems to be obsessed except our own. I will admit that I have become kind of sucked into it myself. I have been getting lessons on football rules from my cousin, Chanh, whose a football fanatic and whenever I can, try to stay up late to watch a game.

On this day, Argentina and Germany were playing and I happened to be in the middle of Saigon to catch a public viewing. Hundreds of people gathered at this field to watch on a big screen monitor.
Those willing to pay to park went inside the field to watch and those who didn't, stayed on their motorbikes to watch on the outside. I loved the fixed concentration they have on their faces.
The atmosphere was a celebratory one, with people of all kinds all bunched together to watch, mingle, and eat in between goals. It didn't really seem to matter which side people were cheering for (unless they were betting). It was more the gathering of people that lent to the fun mood.

With the World Cup ending soon, this World Cup fever is at its high point and all I can say is...Go Netherlands!

(I am currently in Central Vietnam with limited access to the internet so if I don't update, it's for that reason. Also, sneaky venues to getting on Facebook have been getting shut down so I haven't been able to go on for a while.)

Happy Fourth of July!

On this 4th of July, I would just like to say that I am glad to come from a country where bribery isn't the name of the game and a stable means of success, unlike other countries (ahem, ahem).

And a country with reliable access to toilet...and where the sewage system doesn't overflow into the streets every time it rains...with pretty decent customer service...where all my friends are...I'm feeling homesick guys. :P

Have a good (and safe) one and watch those fireworks for me!

(Taken at a famous temple in My Tho)

A glimpse at what could have been

Life is a bunch of could haves, should haves, and would haves. "If I could have done that, then things would have been different... I should have done that..." Even at this tender age, with the little life experience that I have had, I think back to some of the choices I've made and spend sleepless nights wondering how things would have been different if I had done this differently or if on that particular day I was in a different mood and made the opposite decision...maybe... maybe....

So, I can't imagine how it would feel for a person who has actually lived many lives and was forced to make crucial life decisions that determined the thin line between survival and death. Even more difficult to grasp is how one would feel when the life they would have lived is presented to them years later, forcing them to relive a very painful past. On our trip to Cambodia, my Mom did just that.

I didn't realize how connected our family history was to this country until we entered it. Passing through the Cambodian countryside, my Mom began to tell stories of my Dad's time spent in this country as a soldier training for the war. After my Dad was injured, he was stationed in Cambodia and after he escaped from prison, my parents sold medicine on the black market at the Vietnam/Cambodia border. My parents regularly traded with Cambodians and on many instances, were kindly offered their homes to hide in.

Because of this past, my Mom has a special fondness for Cambodia, saying that all the Cambodians she met were kind to her, especially at a time when a little kindness from strangers could have led to their own imprisonment. It is this very fondness that led her to juggle with the decision made over 20 years ago to escape to Cambodia or to smuggle themselves out of Vietnam into a refugee camp and attempt to gain asylum in America.

Obviously, the better choice was made. But traveling in this country with her, it was clear to me how difficult it was for my Mom to confront the life she could have led in this country, especially when we visited the precise place she would have lived if she had chosen to live in Cambodia.

Tonle Sap Lake, the largest freshwater river in Southeast Asia and home to a large ethnic Vietnamese community, who live on floating villages scattered all over the lake. Many of the ethnic Vietnamese that live here have no citizenship status in either Vietnam or Cambodia. It is this precise reason why Tonle Sap was an attractive option for my parents--My Dad's status as an escaped war prisoner meant that he was unable to live a life in Vietnam without the constant fear of getting caught and so, leaving all that behind for a life with literally no status was a more than attractive option.

But the downside was (and still is) that with no citizenship status in either country, those living on the lake are forced to stay there without much opportunity to leave and seek a better life elsewhere. This was the Tonle Sap my Mom came back to--a very poor floating community of displaced people.

The poverty of the ethnic Vietnamese living on Tonle Sap was traumatizing. Our tour boat first passed idyllic scenes of life on the river, of people casting wide nets to fish and taking a bath in the muddy brown river.



Then, without warning, we were all forced to confront our own privilege when children surrounded our boat to beg for money. Children, carrying snakes to attract the attention of tourists, climbed onto our boats to both shock us with these creatures and beg for money. Their practiced cries and attempts to get a few Vietnamese dongs out of us were heartbreaking. Seeing them forced to beg to survive, their parents commandeering their boats in a sort of 'this-is-all-very-normal-to- exploit-my-children-to-survive' air to them was all very difficult to take.

This little girl with the snake around her neck especially killed me. She looks so young, too young to be crying to all the boat passengers for money. But when someone did give her some money, there was a flicker between the moment she accepted the money and when she placed it into her pocket that made her look so old beyond her years. I can't explain it, but that small moment made the situation so, so sad.

We were then taken to a floating Vietnamese school, where the children all greeted us excitedly. I didn't see any books or any residue of a day spent teaching on the blackboard, just a brightly colored schoolroom with nearly a 100 kids packed into a small room and a donation box smartly positioned at the front.


The whole situation at the school screamed of exploitation to me. I can't know for sure whether this was all set up, but it all seemed odd and even more so when other visitors around me took this opportunity as a photo-op to document their own self-congratulatory acts of kindness by taking pictures and videos of their deeds. My skepticism made the situation seem sadder--that the livelihood of this community was wrapped around the dollars of self-congratulatory tourists.

But what really made it emotional was the personal angle of it all. I couldn't help but think, "This could have been my parents life...my life." At the school, I kept thinking of my oldest brother and the life he might have led here. He could have been one of those kids at the school and my parents fishermen, scraping by with what they can. The rest of us kids probably wouldn't have even been born and if we were, who knows, we might have also been one of the begging kids. The personal aspect of it, of course, hit my mom the hardest. She was crying throughout the boat ride and even more so when we left. I asked her what she was thinking and she told me that she couldn't stop thinking of us and the life we would have led there if her decision to leave Vietnam turned out differently. "Our life would have been over," she told me. I had no reason to argue otherwise.

In confronting the 'what could have beens' on this trip, my Mom was distraught at having to face the life she could have led. Both choices were carefully thought out with the sole goal to survive, but seeing the stark harshness of one life compared to the one we live now was really upsetting to her. One small shift in her decision making at the time could have changed all of our lives. For me, grasping the enormity of this one decision my Mom made years back makes me respect her even more. How could she have known at the time what the better choice was? There was no way. But, she made that difficult decision and here we are now, all of us kids getting a world-class education with more opportunity than all of our past and present family in Vietnam.

The lesson I've learned from all this is that while life can be a bunch of could haves, should haves, and would haves, we have to live with the decisions we made and make the most of it. Sometimes, they turn out for the better and while it is good to recognize the life we could have led, it is even better and wiser to appreciate the life we are leading.

Battle scars

I have been in Vietnam for one week and I sure do have the battle scars to prove it. Mosquito bites, burnt legs, weathered feet--I have it all.

Sunburnt legs. There's a reason why people are all covered up here, despite the 90+ heat. Less than 20 minutes out on a ride on the motorbike wearing shorts and your skin becomes burnt and itchy.



My first really bad mosquito bite. In the past few days, I've seen it evolve from a ginormous bump on my right wrist, to a reddish purple rash, to a series of wartlike bumps. I have to resist the urge to pop these raised bumps. So disgusting.


More mosquito bites on my legs. They've turned a wierd purply-red color, like a really really bad bruise.

Sometimes, I get one and I don't even notice it until it becomes an annoying, itchy bump like this little bugger on my right pinky.

The cream I have been using. I got it in France three years ago when I had the nastiest spider bite on my arm. It was one of those bites that had yellow stuff inside. So, so gross. I have no idea if this cream is working. Placebo effect, I guess. Plus, it expired about a year ago.

I have many more, but mostly in places I don't feel comfortable posting online--enough said. For sure I will return after this three month trip dark, battered, and worn out. At least I will have had fun in the process!

To Vietnam I Go!

As many of you know, I’m leaving for Vietnam…for three months. It’s the day after my graduation and what better way to ride this post-graduation high than to jet off across the world to a distant land for which I am named after. The thought of it is exhilarating. For three months, I have the option to do absolutely nothing other than sit on a hammock, surrounded by lush jungle and drink coconut straight from a tree my uncles climbed and chopped down themselves. No PAPERS, no deadlines…just free time. SIGH.

But of course, I get restless easily and while sitting around doing nothing sounds awesome, I have plans that will hopefully keep me occupied until I return in mid-August and see (and party with!) all of you guys again. So, I made a list of activities I would like to do while there. Here are the highlights (from a very long mental list):

-Learn to ride a motorbike. This is priority numero uno. I have this romanticized image in my mind of me motor-biking through the Vietnamese countryside (where the traffic isn’t crazy and deadly like in Saigon), zooming by rice paddies, and taking in staggered gulps of that sweet country air. Very romanticized but I want to at least learn and I will, dangit!

-Find the best bowl of pho. I know, nothing beats your mom’s bowl of pho, but surely, in a country that thrives on pho, there has to be someplace that can rival mom’s bowl of goodness. I specifically want to visit the famed “Lunch lady” in Saigon, who makes different varieties of noodles on specific days of the week. Her street-served noodle dishes are supposed to be the best, known to lure flocks of locals and tourists alike. Anthony Bourdain featured her on his Vietnam show. And if you don’t know, as a travel show junkie I have an undying love for Bourdain’s quirky and sometimes crude insights, so what he says about food, is pretty close to right.

-Learn about Vietnamese folk music. NOT CAI LUONG, which is a descendent of Chinese Opera but a really annoying version of it. I want to learn more about Vietnamese folk music, from the sounds of the traditional instruments to the ‘60s folk singers I used to hear my Dad listening to.

-Immerse myself in the day-to-day Vietnamese life. A benefit of having family I could stay with is that I could really see what it is like to be a local. I could go to the open markets with my aunts every morning to buy fresh produce, wake up to see the country farmers herding ducks in the countryside, or attend school with my aunt and learn what it is like to be a schoolteacher in Vietnam. These are the experiences I am looking forward to, more so than visiting the touristy sites.

-Retrace my Dad’s life in Vietnam. I don’t know anything about my Dad’s life in Vietnam, other than the few stories my Mom shares with me. I know of their courtship, some terrifying stories of the war, and their eventual escape. Other than that, my Dad’s life in Vietnam is shrouded in mystery. There are many reasons why—the main being that he was a soldier and a war prisoner, who basically had to erase his past to survive. I know that he hasn’t seen his immediate family in over 30 years. I also know nothing about his childhood, so I want to make it a mission of mine to find out about his life, revisit his old stomping grounds, learn about the hardships he had to go through, and to basically understand the past so that I can understand my Dad better. He doesn’t talk much and the vestiges of war have left him with no nostalgia for the past. But for my sake, I would like to better understand my Dad and I’m sure by retracing his past, I will come back with not only a better understanding, but more appreciation for who he is.

-To simply, enjoy my time here. To learn more about my culture, be open to new experiences, and just…take this valuable time I have here and make one GRAND ADVENTURE out of it.

Kudos to Dr. Seuss

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!
You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.

So, I've taken inspiration from Dr. Seuss and decided to create a travel blog based on the message from his book, "Oh, The Places You'll Go." If you've read it, I'm sure it carries special meaning for you as it does for me. If you haven't, run to your local bookstore and buy it.

Anyways, the overarching message is about life--the various trials and tribulations we are all bound to go through at one point or another. But of course, in the typically whimsical Dr. Seuss fashion, it reassures us that while such times will be stressful, we have the power to choose our own direction in life and pursue our own dreams. Things may not go exactly as planned, but if we keep at it, then we can make it to wonderful places and have exciting experiences. Simply, life is the adventure we make of it. This message has always stuck with me and given this awkward phase of life I'm entering, it has come back.

Because...I have no idea what I am going to do now that college is over. I have some far-off ideas of what I kind of want to do and the direction I would like to be on, but nothing definite. This sort of "Waiting Place," as Dr. Seuss terms it, can be exciting, but mostly, it's scary. For the first time in my life, I don't have a plan. I always have a plan for everything. Even when I claim to 'go with the flow', I am working on a plan. It's comforting to know where you will be headed, to have a sense of stability in the choices you make. I don't feel that reassurance and that scares me.

Given this indecision and the fear that accompanies it, I have decided that the only way to overcome these feelings is to embrace it. Wholly. So I'm leaving, for an extended period of time to really live by the words I always claimed to live by--to go with the flow.

What this means is that instead of hunkering down and trying to find a job, committing myself to a plan I am not ready to commit to, I will be traveling for a good part of this year--in the US, outside, rediscovering my backyard..wherever. It doesn't matter. I just want to take advantage of this time when I am not bogged down by a job to do what I've always wanted to do and see what I've always dreamed of seeing. So, that's what this blog will be about--my travel experiences and the various lessons I will hopefully learn on the way. I am taking Dr. Seuss's message and running...flying...driving...or whatever mode of transportation my travels will lead me, and aim to live by it. And of course, I want to use this space to share my experiences with my lovely friends.

Maybe through my travels, I'll find some answers. Maybe I won't, but that's okay too. I just know that this is what I always wanted to do and there is no better time to do it than now. If there are sights to be seen, new food to be eaten, I'm there. I'll keep you all updated on my misadventures and the like. For now, sayonara.

(Next stop...New York!)