Travel in 2017 vs. 2012

I recently traveled through Vietnam and a little piece of Hong Kong.  
The last time I left America was in 2012 when I studied in France for three months.  Almost immediately upon my arrival in Vietnam, I realized how different travel is, and how most of my tips had become outdated in just five years.

Technology is the biggest catalyst of change, and I’m curious about how much it shapes culture.  For instance, when I was in France and learning language, I was taught “internet café” geographically and linguistically very early on.

I did have a smart phone when I was in France, but it could do maybe half of what we expect from our phones today.  Moreover, it was a Verizon iPhone 4, which my Apple friends who’ve been with the company for a few years know didn’t have a SIM tray.  In other words, it was hardwired to only understand my carrier in the U.S. and basically an iPod.

I’d have to duck into previously mentioned internet cafés in order to do anything beyond downloaded music and photos.  I get lost very, very easily, and looking back I’m still in awe at how I got around without a little blue dot showing me walking in the wrong direction.

My travel was marked by these internet-happy spots, the equivalent of stopping for gas before driving to the next adventure.  When I changed between bus and train, I knew my stops to go check for messages from friends or directions from the satellite gods.

Fast forward to 2017.  I got a SIM card faster than they stamped my visa.  The Vietnamese government sponsors their cellphone carriers, and that’s partially responsible for how reasonably priced they are.  I inserted the new SIM card into my phone and was immediately joking with one of my friends. While there, my biggest obstacle in communication wasn’t the ability to connect, but simply timezones.  But as long as they were awake, I could speak to whomever I wanted, even from of on a mountain at the other side of the world.

Technology-lead, travel changed from this isolated bubble to being no different than exploring a city in America.  When I was in France, I spent my daily commute writing, listening to the same albums I had downloaded, and almost meditating in my bus seat, unable to communicate with friends or linguistically with those around me.

This was in Strasbourg.  Somedays I’d walk to Germany for lunch, and I don’t even know what that would’ve meant for cellphones.  I’m glad it never came up.  I wonder if the hole in access would’ve dissuaded me from traveling outside my comfort and reception zones.  Instead, it’s some of my fondest memories.

Honestly, I think travel should feel solitary.

I have a few friends that meet travel companions via Tinder.  A few years ago, one of my friends went on what we called her “Sexpodition,”

To be fair, I understand the utility of Tinder in another country.  When I was exploring Hong Kong by myself, I was tempted to use it to find a friend to go to dinner with.  I was blindly looking up places on Yelp, but would rather’ve had a new friend recommend a spot and talk to them about their culture.

And I couldn’t.  I couldn’t find someone available that night that wasn’t looking for sex.  I was not.  I was looking for human connection and I’ve found that is something so rare to find as a woman on those apps.  

And honestly, I don’t need it.  I build friendships rather easily.  I am connected on Facebook with people in Vietnam I knew for maybe an hour, and am grateful for the technology to still have them in my life; but I didn’t need it to meet them.

I even have a connection to someone I never met.  The hostel I stayed at in Hong Kong had these amazing postcards for sale.  They were a unique style illustratively, and when I inquired, the hostel staff excitedly told me that they’re all representative of Cantonese expressions.  I bought a set and asked if I could record one of them explaining their meanings.  She agreed as long as she could film me saying why it excited me so much.  She then sent that video along to the artist who made them, and she found me on Facebook saying how much it meant to her.

Connections are made from being observant and kind to the world around you.

I don’t need to find that superficially, and personally think the easy access of technology deflects my attention from my surroundings.

Some need to travel with those who speak English.  Evolutionarily, it is socially validating to be with someone who speaks the same language, as well as helps travel feel safer and more familiar.  I understand that, and traveled with an English speaker.  It’s my primary language, and see the utility.

But I love the struggle of other languages.  The dance to be understood that’s at the core of every human being.  Loving the linguistic challenge is why I learned French in three months.  It’s why I know ASL, it’s why I choose the friends that I have and what draws them to me.

I love the discomfort and humility that comes with traveling another country.

And in sum, have found technology lessens it.

The postcards.  Art by Bonnie Wong, featured at The Mahjong

Hong Kong Dreaming

I'm currently on a double decker bus making its way through Hong Kong.  I am in awe of a city nestled in the mountains and sad to only be spending 48 hours in it. There is so much to do, both epic and quotidian. Only a few speak English, and the mutual dance for comprehension is one of my favorites.  Last night a woman at a restaurant informed me that the teapot on the table was actually sauce to be poured upon my dim sum. She did so by miming it. I loved her. 

Today I used google translate to ask for a bathroom and the woman totally panicked. She thought I was asking if they had a bath I could use. I love the battle to adapt. I'm fighting to urge to hide my differences, which is ridiculous because I stick out like a sore thumb. Living in New York City has calloused me to the idea of tourists, and here I am unable to hide being one.  So I breathe and enjoy the experience. 

And its beautiful. I am fascinated by the minute differences; what they sell at their Starbucks here compared to the U.S.  All the snacks in their 7/11 that have characters (both linguistic and animated) that I do not know. The flavors that like trees or types of doves seem to only grow from this region. It's like meeting your best friend's twin. 

This city is much more comfortable to me than Vietnam; its history dictates it being so. I'm still struggling to find the words to capture how this journey has changed me and what it has meant. In the meantime, I sit at the top of this bus , gazing out onto the galaxy of new, praying that I only get a little lost. 

 

(My "desk" and my "office") 

The Streets of Hanoi

Thursday I wrote on the side of the rode and then chased a butterfly around the streets of Tay Ho.  It's the Western district, but even there I stood out.  Here's what I wrote:

I am camped out on the sidewalk, next to an electric pole that I mistook for a tree. The heat is palpable. Yesterday [Wednesday] I spent the day in the touristy area of Hanoi's Old Quarters, which is covered in shops, all selling an assortment of products more distinct than the next.  For around $50 USD I found birthday presents for four friends.  I escaped the heat with shopping, getting a tea in an air conditioned café whenever the sweat in my eyes made it a challenge to see.  It was beautiful, culturally new, touristy. I look forward to seeing more outside of this and finding more ways to adapt.

There is a clear distinction between those who grew up here and those visiting. Whether its restaurants with prices and meals only appealing to foreigners, or the fact....that I AM SITTING ON A SIDEWALK writing on the only Apple device that I've seen today. I stand out in America, it is not a surprise that I do here. So, in my inability to adapt, I admire. The slick balance of the Vietnamese people, whirling around on their motorbikes.  Their tolerance of THIS HEAT.  The reformed areas and how much effort clearly went into them compared to the thatched roofs of what they once were and some still are. I am grateful to feel safe as I wander around alone in a tank top (we could just stop there...) with my most financially valuable possession in my hands.

Being here I realize just how familiar I am with Western set-ups. I wanted to go write at an air conditioned café with wifi. I could find that, but would again feel guilt in the comfort. Instead I like my spot here. With ants following the pack as much as Starbucks goers, and motorbike-clad natives staring at me.  I don't get to assimilate, I am here to know what it is to stand alone not knowing the rules of someone else's game. I am grateful to have been let in at all, and will happily amuse in the meantime.

 

 

Coconut Coffee Chaos

Coconut coffee and the start to a beautiful day. There have been two spurts of storms this morning and now there is a warm breeze perpetuated by the whirlpool of motorbikes through the city.

It is strange. I am in a café, with architecture foreign to me. It has an unassuming entrance with spiraling stairs up to a lounge.  Paint is peeling, wallpaper sweating, frayed edges on the corners of the pillows in this lounge give a hint of the country I'm in, and yet the concept of this lounge seems very Western.  Bruno Mars plays from their speakers as I sit next to a luxurious fan.  I feel guilt in indulging in the familiar, but gratitude for the resolve as I peer out onto the tumultuous Hanoi Old Quarters. 

It reminds me of Chinatown in Los Angeles, or the garment district downtown.  Shops lined up shoulder to shoulder, with trinkets and knickknacks spilling from their awnings.  People are constantly in motion as others work patiently at the entrance to their shops. 

I feel like a tourist. I am a tourist. In France I could pretend to be French. Here I am definitely a minority. I don't mind standing out, I respect that I am in some else's home. I just wish I weren't as much of a cliché.  The cost here is very comfortable when converted to USD.  My fancy coffee comes out to $2 and I have a feeling that it is rather indulgent. I would be easy for me to shop lushly, and I almost feel guilt in not contributing to their economy when I so easily can.  That's not what I want, however.  I wish to discover the habits and lifestyle of a native. To wear a cloak of invisibility as I experience life in another's shoes. 

If I wanted luxury I would've booked a spa day instead of a plane ticket. 

I will attempt. In the meantime I sip my coconut coffee, a nectar of caffeine and bravery, and prepare to dive once again into waves this sea-ty.  (The pun was there, I had to take it)

 

 

 

 

Vietnam Night 1:

It took me just over 24 hours to get to the other side of the world, and if you stop imagining for a moment what it must feel like traveling for 24 hours and instead just look at that sentence again -it took me just over 24 hours to get to the other side of the world- that is absolutely awing.  Essentially I sacrificed a lazy day for the ability to adventure.  I already know it was worth it. 

Now I am guilty of writing this at 7:30am after having arrived last night; I have barely seen beyond my jet lag. And yet already so much is different. R. R Rather than exploiting what small non-new-world variances I've experiences, instead I'll just refer to the beauty of a new city at night.  There are little winding alleys that bustle like streets, just out of scope of light and sound as the rambunctious (but still polite compared to the U.S.) outdoor snackery/bar. There are language barriers and an easy inclination to bond with fellow foreigners.  I am fighting that while simultaneously feeling gratitude to be in another culture's world. 

My main take away from a day in limbo is the power of smiles. Being suspended in a metal tube in I the air for 16 hours with a stranger, nothing has proven so immediately disarming as a smile.  It unlocks a new side to them, and seems to well transcend language. I've brought with me a portable charger, a toilettree organizer, a wallet that stores my passport, boarding pass and multiple forms of currency -- and yet the most useful thing I have brought requires no protective case and can only be taken in spirit. 

I am excited to see what my first full day has in store.

Unedited photo from the plane because colors are just that beautiful.  

Good Morning Vietnam

Today I voyage to a new part of the world.

I am going on a vacation to Vietnam for two weeks.  I haven't left the country since I studied abroad five years ago; an experience that immediately shaped me into a seemingly new person.  It pruned the old me, and nourished the branches of myself I was most proud of.  I left feeling like I had a guest pass to other cultures.  Even this week, I met someone from Albania and was able to draw on my study abroad experience to connect with them.

I told them that when I was in Strasbourg, I heard the President of Albania speak at the Counself of Europe.  I recalled that his prestige isn't what I was most impressed by; instead it was his taste in rhetoric.  He chose to speak in English, rather than utilizing translators, so his message would be heard by the majority from his own voice.  This added credibility while demonstrating their country's desire to be an equal with the larger English-speaking ones, and the impact they would like to have.

I was able to recite this impression and connect my respect from this to the person I had just met.

Clearly, linguistics fascinate me.  To analyze them is to identify subtext and create a closer to connection to someone.  To care about them is to respect another person and their culture.  And I am terrified to travel to a country where I do not speak the language.  I don't know taboos to avoid, how to be respectful, how to say hello or ask for help.

In two weeks time I definitely will.  I am immersing myself in my fears, my yearnings, my wanderlust and my insatiable desire to learn.

This past week we all looked to the sky and stared in fascination at the sun and the moon.  We wish on stars and dream of inhabiting other planets.  

And yet there are universes in every individual, lightyears lengths of stories, galaxies of experiences we couldn't possibly imagine from the glimpses we've seen in media.  Even the nature possesses new worlds in their different ecosystems.

So as much as we gaze up at the sky with wonder and curiosity, I plan to bring the same awe to each new person I may meet. 

This trip will no doubt feed my love of language and learning other cultures.  I am excited to sprout new intellect and break down ignorance I didn't know I had.  I promise to write of my discoveries, and share the cultural spores that I collect.  We certainly need them to grow in this nation.

 

Social Hibernation

I've spent to weeks in vocal and social semi-silence.  Speaking for my job all day caused me to strain my voice, and never getting a chance to heal caused a blood vessel to rupture on my vocal chords.  For those of you who've known me in my hospital days, you'll understand that the pain was almost lost on me, evolution has demanded I have a high tolerance. Still though, sharp pain is never a good sign and $50 in copay and $20 in medicine later, I had my injury discovered.

I spent the two weeks mostly on my own; being around others provided too infuriating of a difficulty to communicate.  It's without a doubt made me appreciate my ASL-speaking friends tenfold, for their ability to adapt and their patience to be understood by those who don't sign.

It's been a bit of a mental vacation, just before I go on a geographical one.  I return to work for four days and then fly out of the country for a vacation of two weeks.  It's been years since I've had a vacation, and half a decade since I've left the country.

I am thrilled to be taking a break from the racist insanity that consumes our headlines, though I anticipate many questions from those who live elsewhere.    I was studying abroad during the election for Barack Obama's second term, and was amazed by how thoroughly other countries watch our politics.  People who barely spoke English were finding the words to ask who I was supporting and insisting on it being Obama, someone more understanding of our influence on the rest of the world.  So while I'm excited to take a break from our national shame, I anticipate having to defend those feel it, not cause it.

We'll see.  Spending time in a country whose primary language is not English is always humbling.  We take for granted how easy it is for us to be understood, a theme not lost on me in these two weeks of silence.  Needing to adapt, to change something so fundamental in my day to day, it makes me marvel at others.  Polyglots, those with patience, those who are willing to help.

Language many not be universal, but compassion is.  I look forward to finding those who will help me along this upcoming journey, as well as those who  provide more obstacle than safety net; I'll likely learn the most from them.

And thus I return from my summer hibernation, slightly sleepy, somewhat sore, and extremely ready for change.

Yes, It Was Sunny

I am so in love.
    With a city.

I went back to Philly for the first time in almost a year, and I am so happy. I was there for just for a day and a half, but I feel more alive than I have in awhile.

Monday night I saw eight friends in four hours and got $1 tacos and good beer.  Yesterday was a whirlwind of hugs and love, and I was able to connect with about two dozen people.  Two dozen. 

I forget that I've loved that many people; and with each one, there was still an effortless connection.  Whether that's asking about their growing families, artistic endeavors, or pets...I remembered a piece of everyone's essence, and I realized how beautiful they all are to have shared so much with me.  Plus anyone that picks you up and swings you around when they hug you is a definitely keeper.

Leaving for LA was a bold move, and the realization that I was happier where I had been was one of the most difficult ones I've faced.  So to know that almost two years later my Philly folk still hold so much love for me...it's the closest I've felt to having a family in a long, long time.
And being around those who were my community reminded me of my purpose; to them, to our little world there, and to the bigger one outside.  I know a little more about the person I am going to be.

I absolutely cannot wait to visit again.

(Plus the metallic nails, strawberry-lavender donuts, and perfect weather definitely doesn't hurt.)

Train Day Three

I've met some new people and had more time to think. I suppose this say began during my layover in Chicago, which actually felt super quick for six hours.

I was able to see a wonderful friend and also make the important discovery that I am moving to the right city. I had considered moving to Chicago, and yesterday I realized that I likely would've lent too heavily on that friendship, whereas in New York I am more likely to explore and meet new friends. 

It's like going to a resultant and trying a dish so good, it instantly is your favorite. And every time you come back, you say you're going to order something else...but that one is too good so you never order anything else. And this chapter for me is about discovering what else is on life's menu.  Learning what I love but don't already know.

So it was validation that I am making the right choices. 

As far as the train goes, I had a few great thoughts: I met a guy visiting from Japan, that has been on both of my trains: LA to Chicago, and Chicago to New York. He was in LA for three days and will be in New York for three....and that's actually the same amount of time he's spending on the train. 

I immediately asked why wouldn't he fly to get more time in the cities.  He simply pointed to the window, out of which green swirls of nature tickled our eyes. He said he was here to travel the country. 

It was a literal example of focusing on the journey, not the destination. I also loved they the whirling countryside means as much to him as a big tourist attraction. I feel the same way and that bond I think is another universality between trains folk. 

I met another guy who connected to nature, who couldn't help but gasp at every epic glimpse of landscape and smile at every bridge.  He is in the military and is absolutely different from the guys in Rotchford I met in my college dorm hallways.  They have the same stoicism but what feeds his soul is totally unique to other service men and women I have met.  All of the stories he told were about art, travel and connecting with others. 

About  "finding your freedom."

And that's an appropriate word as I voyage through this country.  Strangely it's a word I don't know that I understood until today. 

In grade school, I mostly associated it with standing up for the pledge during school assemblies.

And now...with the longing for having money and thus choice.

Which is of course ironic, because it is FREEdom.  It's already ours, it's not something we have to purchase or indulge in....but, we do have to define it for ourselves. 

For my train friend from Japan, it was seeing an entire country in a week and two days.

For my military friend it's adventuring in search of others whose souls rhyme with his.

And for me?

I think that's what I'm learning.

And even if I don't yet know my freedom, it's still here. I still have it. Like a wrapped present that I'll one day open and understand. 

And in the meantime?  I will enjoy meeting others on this unique experience, and learning from those that have found their bliss. 

Things Are Moving, and Hopefully Forward:

The Move

As far as my move goes, I had an lovely interview today for the job I want in Philly, and next week I’m having dinner with the beautiful soul who wants to drive Spencer and I across the country.  

My little one molted the last time he was on a train and changed shells the last time he was in a car; so I think he’ll enjoy the trip: perhaps traveling reminds him of the sea.

Also his birthday is coming up at the end of June and I can’t wait to shower him with even more presents.  There are a lot of people that I love whom I’ve lost this year, and yet this little hermit crab has held on unwaveringly.  He absolutely is one of the best things in my life right now.

The Me

Speaking of which, I’m a little lost.  I’ve learned that I’m at my happiest when I have someone to love, and with the absence of many of those that I thought of as family, I’ve started to lose hope in having people to truly love; and in tandem, ever being really happy.

I remember when I was at my happiest, and that’s not only lost in the past, but it’s not even remotely dreamed of by the person with whom I shared those memories.

So it’s time for new memories, and perhaps some changes in what I hope for.

I need a new reason to wake up to each morning.

The Health

And speaking of mornings, my health is a bit finicky.

My body tends to do what it wants.  No matter how early I go to bed or how many alarms I set, my body has been forcing me to sleep an average of 12 hours a night.  Add in the 4 hour-commute to and from work, plus my 9 hour shifts, I now have -1 hours for myself each day (and yes I tend to get ready for work on my bus ride there…).  Again, it’s time for a change.

ALSO

I realize I have never posted about the current theory of what’s wrong with me.  Perhaps that because I’ve been getting used to it.  It's a bit long, so I've created a separate post for it, which you can find by clicking on this blurry but happy photo of Spencer and I:

Don't Go Breaking Into Song

So for days now I've been trying to write about my next move across the country; and I finally figured out why I can't seem to post anything:

I'm scared.  I'm really scared. The last time I moved across the country I regretted it. And not like "oh I shouldn't have had that extra cookie" regret, but full on blaming and shaming myself for things that were never within my control; constantly questioning how much happier I would've been if I just hadn't moved. 

And yes; that's why I'm planning to move back to Philly.....but what if I end up regretting that too, looking back at LA as a happier time?   How will I get over losing what I'm leaving behind if Philly isn't everything that I want it to be?

The ending of the movie Sweet Charity has always stuck with me.  (Yes, spoiler alert. Skip this paragraph if you still haven't gotten to watch the movie from 45 years ago.)  In the movie, Charity works as an escort, until she and a customer fall in love. He scoops her up and makes plans to marry her, have her move in with him, and all in all give her a happier life. 

But on the day of the wedding, he leaves her at the alter. Heartbroken, Charity calls her coworkers, with whom she had been living, to tell them she needs to come home. 

But they are too exited for Charity's new life that she can't bare to tell them the news, and through her tears she plays along with the happy fiction, eventually hanging up the phone.  So she is friendless, homeless and completely alone.  That night she sleeps on the bridge that reminds her of the last man to break her heart; once again in pieces after over investing in a better life. 

And I know I'm not Charity.  I don't need a prince to come save me; nor will I ever depend solely on someone else for my survival. But I relate to the happier moments turning to poison as soon as they become memories.  I understand that feeling of calling the friends who want just the best for you and not being able to vocalize that once again - I've failed to find happiness.  I don't even know how to face myself when happens. 

There were moments in this past year where I'd close my eyes, tense my fists and I really would try to go back in time.  I felt responsible for my suffering. 

So what if this move results the same way?

The last time I transferred to a position that wasn't my promoted role, I quit the job. What will I do for work and rent and insurance if that happens again...? Not to mention that I am really committed to this career path.  Is that worth staying in a city where I am sick and miserable?  Or moving but backwards into a role without a chance to show what I have learned?

If you can't notice I tend to catastrophize and plan accordingly for each reality of apocalypse.  I used to panic about subway cars; how would my life have been different if I had gotten into the front car instead of the one just behind it...?  Who would my friends be if I had had calculus for first period and not fourth?  What would my life had been like if....

So I know this nervousness is normal for me.  I'll be happier once the move is done.  I just wish that in the meantime, I wasn't feeling so afraid.

And the Journey Continues