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 Almost immediately upon my arrival in Vietnam, I realized how different travel is, and how most of my tips had become outdated in just five years.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

Train Day Two

It may be day 3...?  The days are blurring together. I left on a Thursday and it's currently Saturday, but it's also the second 24 hour period, and I have one more before I'm in New York. 

I'm definitely groggier. 

I've been yelled at by a passenger and two conductors for trying to sleep......which is ridiculous because a) my health and b) what else is there to do on the train...?  Not to mention Train Friends number Two and Four and I have all been asleep at some time in the last day and no one complained then. 

All but one of the employees is in a pissy mood it seems. Ahh well.  Soon I will have a room to sleep in and no one there to angrily poke at me to wake up...

The sights are still beautiful, though it's definitely been nothing but cornfields for the last 12 hours.  My little group with Friends Two and Four is going to split up once we're in Chicago. We've been together since LA, so it'll definitely be a different voyage without them.  I think it's incredibly serendipitous that we all met on the same train, all leaving LA on the same day, same time, to start our lives somewhere else. 

It's been very comforting to have friends facing the same excitement and nerves. 

Then again, everyone on here sort it seems like they're running from something.  Either temporarily from the mundane of their everyday, or permanently running from houses that weren't homes. 

Awhile back I realized that no matter how diversely incomparable every individual is and how different work can be....the feeling of work being "uuugh work" makes sense to all of us.  Thus the need to spend our days doing something that feeds our souls is a universal human emotion.

And after being on this train....perhaps the fearlessness in trading malcontent for the new and unknown, is unanimous within us as well. 

Anyway, those are today's thoughts. Spencer is loving the trip and doesn't seem to mind the downsize of his train home, and I have little pocket warmers keeping him warm enough at night. That, and I spoon his picnic basket as I sleep. What can I say, I love this little bug. And without him, I wouldn't be on this voyage today. 

I am excited for the unknown ahead, and for the train epiphanies of tomorrow. 

(Above: friends two and four respectively)

Having to Let Go

Moving always sucks.  It's always stressful, something always breaks, when you're unpacking you always can't remember where you put at least a dozen things and never find them until they've become irrelevant, and, the hardest part, you have to say goodbye to a lot of things that matter.

I am someone who endows everything I own.
I did an acting exercise where we were to replicate our rooms in class and perform an every day activity in our space.
My teacher ridiculed me for having too many possessions that didn't matter.
I asked him to pick an object.  Any one.  I could tell him who bought it for me or how long it took me to save enough for it, why I so desperately need it, and how if it went missing, that I wouldn't be able to replace it.
Because of that, everything is precious.

And because I've at some point had so little; eating off of my one plate that a friend's roommate gave me, with my one fork that I stole for the dining hall, the pasta that I had to half-cook in the microwave because I couldn't afford a pot....it's so hard not to choose to leave those things behind.

What's more, I don't live by a Good Will or anything, and so I'm having to confront throwing away things that have been little luxuries, a chance to vacation in normal, something that someone somewhere needs and I just can't get it to them.

I tried leaving things outside of my apartment, hoping someone would take them home....and instead the building supervisor tossed them in the trash.
I feel like the biggest consumer.

So here's what I've gotta do: own less.
I love moving.
Not my stuff, but the experience.
I love change, new people, new friends, a new home.
A chance for a place to have everything that yesterday lacked.

And if I'm going to want to do this again, I can't keep these things.
I emotionally can't confront this year after year,
But I also don't need all those little luxuries then.
I'll borrow, and make my own as I make things work,
But if I want to be a nomad, I have to carry less too.

And perhaps as I whole, I'll feel freer and able to connect to what really matters.
Like a tree shedding it's leaves in the fall, and enduring the cold and empty winter because it knows that spring will come, when its leaves will return bringing hope with them.
I am excited for seasons; and inspire to let go.

To Build A Home

And at last I stood on the outskirts of my struggle, staring at what had become my home.  From a distance I saw my once supportive beams, now fallen, splintered and harmful. I recalled how that roof over my head had become toxic, and how climbing out from under it had left me bruised and exhausted.

I was still sore, still sick and still on my own.

I finally realized that here I was, stuck in a pit of my own creation and my own demise. 

To fill it and rebuild sounded like more effort than it was worth.  I had fought so hard, and what had it been for?

This empty pit. This lot of nothing, a painful reminder of my efforts at construction that quaked into a wasted year.  I had already discovered this spot as turbulent and sterile, so why was I still trying to make it my home?

It took me a lot of time to see this clarity. It was as if I needed to escape the pit and wait for the dust to settle to finally see. And as soon as I did, I booked a flight and went back to my old loves. 

I wanted to look at my old home.  Though I did worry how much of its stability was rested upon the ex; was he the reason it hadn't collapsed?  And now without him, would it still be the stable home that I needed?

And the answer is yes. My friends, those coworkers turned to loves, are my beams of support and light, even helping me find more people to keep building up my life. 

Perhaps he was my windows, my guide to the outside world, but with the warmth of those I adore, my house is well heated enough not to need his glass panes. (And who really wants to rely so heavily upon something so fragile?)

Even as a visitor, I feel more at home here than I've felt in months.  Some had said well I only had a year to build that western home and yet I had the same time here. And between an empty pit and a cozy and warm cabin, there's only one choice:

Happiness. 

This is the city where I fell in love. With my love at the time, with my coworkers-turned-to-family, with my jobs, this city, my life and myself. 

So considering that in under a week a rediscovered more happiness than I found in a year, no, I don't want to go back to that pit.  

I didn't waste my time, as I learned there that no path is worth permanently leaving behind a home where you are happy..... I just wish I could have learned that without the constant struggle of this last year.  

So I'll see what it is like to go back to the pit.  And if it doesn't seem worth it, I know where my little cabin is, with loves waiting to adventure with me. 

"1000 Words" for 1000 Miles

And the Journey Continues