Conclusions

Entry #21. November 27, 2013, 9:50 am. Gate K15, Chicago O’Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, USA. (Note: the last two blog posts are temporally out of order, but in conclusion, it's necessary to conclude my blog with my conclusions.) I have many mixed emotions as I look out the airport window at American soil, knowing that I’m back home. These feelings almost match the ones I had in the airport before I started my journey to Asia, except they are reversed; now I am excited to be home and sad to leave Asia. But here I am again, nearly two years later, overwhelmed by the sight of America beyond the window, just like I was when I wrote my first blog post.

There is only one accurate word to describe the adventure I’ve had: indescribable. I could throw out a bunch of powerful, sensory, and sappy adjectives, but no words will sum up all that has happened to me, internally and externally, from my time in Vietnam and SE Asia. I’m wondering how I’ll answer the undeniable questions people will ask me: “What was your favorite place?”, “What is the biggest difference between here and there?”, “Did you like it?”. I’m sure I’ll give a too general answer or maybe sound aloof, but I know that if anyone wants to have a serious conversation about the world, travel, or people, I now have a lot to say.

For example, I’ve been in America for 2 hours now, in a large and busy airport, and I’ve noted some interesting things: It’s freezing. Everyone is speaking English…or Spanish or Spanglish. Everyone looks the same (no joke, I actually said this to myself, and there’s a college dance team sitting near me and I swear all 42 of them are wearing the same sweatshirt-leggings-boots combo and they would seriously confuse any Asian). There are so many rules.  People are fat. Real toilets but no bum guns. Gingers. People stand in lines and maintain order.  MCDONALD’S.

(Note: the custom agents and girls who direct people at passport control are extremely rude.  I feel sorry for non-citizens who come here and have that as their first impression of the USA.)

Although most of these observations are somewhat negative, know that I spent the last 12.5 hours on a plane sitting next to a snoring Japanese man and the airline food has left me with my first case of American diarrhea. But truthfully, I am very fortunate to be coming home the day before Thanksgiving to a family that has been enlarged twice while I’ve been gone. My sister got engaged and my brother had a baby all in the last few weeks. Uncle Jon can’t wait to meet his beautiful niece…and eventually corrupt her…for the better. I can’t tell you how guilty I felt when I knew my family was in the hospital waiting for Lillian to be born, or calling my sister to congratulate her after her fiancé, Rich proposed. Just like when I missed the first weddings of my friends to get married or when my dog died. Although living in Asia has enriched my life, it was very hard to be away at times. Which means that I am blessed to be coming home to a supportive family and group of friends who are equally excited for me to be back. The people who reached out to me while I was gone, even in the simplest email or message, gave me an enormous slice of home that reminded me of the wonderful life I also have in America. I think this is me getting emotional through writing—but it’s true, nothing is more important than the people you love and who love you back.

In conclusion, I want to thank you for reading my blog, writing comments, and encouraging me to experience life. Again, I have many strengthened opinions and thoughts about travel, the world, and its people. I think the most important lesson I take from this experience is that it doesn’t matter where you go or how beautiful the places are you visit. What you will remember most, and what will give you those ‘indescribable’ feelings, are the people you meet. Our cultures are different throughout this planet, but people are the same everywhere. A love for family, friends, and a desire to shape society for the better are what we share.  It really isn’t the sights, but the people who make this world beautiful and life wonderful.

A New Way to Travel

Entry #20. November 30, 2013, 8:25 am. Living room, Parents’ House, Naples, FL, USA. The integrity (or traces of) of my blog wouldn’t be preserved if I didn’t insert a post about my most recent and final trip through SE Asia. Other superlatives for this trip include the most expensive, longest, least people traveled with (=0), and BEST. For my last ‘hoorah’ in Asia and after I officially quit my job at my English school, I spent 10 days in Thailand and then 10 days in Myanmar (formally known as Burma, if that helps... or if you’re like my mother or sister, just go with it).  I traveled alone, for which at first I was a bit worried, but it turned out to be an incredibly enriching experience. Although I believe “life-changing” is a phrase that is terribly overused and underappreciated, this is the trip that is most worthy of the tag.

I knew it would be criminal to leave SE Asia without exploring Thailand. So I did. But beforehand, I felt that the country was overplayed, too modernized, and had lost its allure. But these are dangerous assumptions and should never be taken seriously. Even if it wasn’t my favorite country, I’m still glad I saw some of it and I can’t say I didn’t have a great time or didn’t see some beautiful places.

I first flew to Bangkok (for $45 oh yeah) and spent 2 days in a quaint guesthouse on the river. Many people blatantly hate Bangkok and I was going in without any serious expectations. But, I loved it. I did a few touristy things, but mostly I just wandered, took the ferry to random stops, ate at the busiest restaurants, and did a lot of day-drinking. I spent a night on the famous Khaosan Road (where the partiers go to take part in all forms of obnoxious debaucheries) and although it represents many of the things I despise about travelers, it gave me a great comparison to Vietnam. Basically, it confirmed my suspicions that Thailand is 10 years ahead of Vietnam, concerning rules, development, and breeds of tourists. Then, after a surprisingly pleasant time in Bangkok, I flew down to Nakhon Si Thammarat, a small town in southern Thailand, to visit my only remaining friend from my original Language Corps group (the program I enrolled in to gain my teaching certificate). She lasted as long as I did in Asia and loves her town equally. It was really cool to visit her and witness the parallels of her “English teacher” life. We both found an amazing group of friends, loved our jobs, and most importantly, developed into worldly citizens.  I also got to see what my life would have been like if I had chosen to go to Thailand instead of Vietnam… and although she had a perfect set-up, for her, I’m very glad I picked Vietnam (but I’m biased, of course). After that visit, I logged in my beach time by traveling to Koh Phi Phi, most famously known as an idyllic Thai island and where they filmed “The Beach” with Leonardo DiCaprio. (Actually, I missed the last ferry to the island by about 10 minutes so I spent one night in the transit city of Krabi, Thailand.) Koh Phi Phi is your imagined version of paradise come to real life, but it’s certainly been used and abused by the party backpackers (them again).  For example, one side of the island houses an ideal beach surrounded by whimsical mountains that frame a perfectly oval harbor. BUT, it’s been turned into the “party beach” and the water is no longer clear and has floating beer cans, the sand is no longer white and is filled with cigarette buds, and the surroundings are no longer silent and are polluted with blasted techno music.  Such a shame.  This seems to be an unfortunate, recurring trend throughout the world, as travel becomes much easier.  Tourists flock to the most beautiful places in the world, and consequently, these places turn into exotic playgrounds for people to do whatever they want.  However, once I got over that, I found some untouched spots to enjoy happy hour, just a short hike through the jungle or up a hill. And I went scuba diving with over 30 Black Tip Reef Sharks, which was an all-time highlight.  Although the young Western ‘gap-year’ backpack travelers may have ruined the place in my opinion, I got what I wanted from the island: a tan, a belly full of seafood and beer, ideal diving, and spectacular sunsets.

The next destination was the one where I enjoyed every second and that permanently enhanced my outlook on the world and its people. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to visit Myanmar.  Even before I moved to Asia it was at the top of my list (along with Indonesia, which is ironically my second-favorite place I’ve been (not including Vietnam)). I wanted to go because from what I’ve read and watched on TV, it’s an untainted, raw country that has a fantastically complicated history, both recent and archaic. Plus, it’s an ancient Buddhist Mecca (are those cross-religion metaphors allowed? Hey, what the Hell) and it hosts some of the most beautiful pagodas and stupas in the world. Please Google Image search “Bagan, Myanmar” and your jaw will drop. Leaving Asia, I think that Vietnam may have captured my heart, but it was Myanmar to hold onto my soul. (This is so cheesy and accurate at the same time, so please allow it.)

This country is still horribly corrupt and has a laundry list of problems; it only opened up to the rest of the world about two years ago. They just got ATMs this past year, and hotels are now allowed to utilize internet bookings, for example. You may have heard of Aung San Suu Kyi (or would recognize a picture of her), who is a famous opposition leader and champion of human rights. In 1989 she became the icon for democracy in a country that was closed off and brutally dictated by the military. However, in a place run by a fanatical, paranoid junta, she never had a fair chance and spent 15 years under house arrest, only to be released in 2010.  She is the Nelson Mandela and Mother Theresa of SE Asia, and after reading a biography of her by Peter Popham, she’s become a personal hero of mine. In fact, I have a new answer for that same job/school interview question. She is still fighting to change the ubiquitous corruption in the country and at nearly 70 years old, she aims to be president. What a lady.

I could write an entire book on my experiences in Myanmar, as I deem it to be a “cultural explosion”. But for the sake of brevity, I’ve compiled a list of the things I accomplished on this trip:

In Myanmar, I

-smoked a cigar with an 80 year old lady

-ate dinner with a large family in their bamboo hut with no electricity or running water

-danced on an ancient temple under the stars

-drank beer with 10 old men in a small restaurant

-was invited to Hamburg by two awesome German tourists

-was walking down the street in two different cities when groups of locals I previously met shouted my name, to come join them

-bought dinner for a small, young vendor-boy

-had tea with a family during a sunrise

-drank beer with a random taxi driver and almost missed my bus

-gave an English lesson to a group of waiters

-allowed three separate women to apply the local, natural sun tan lotion all of my face

-was given a small, clay cup by my very poor boat driver

-was invited to eat lunch in a monastery and watch a concert

-witnessed the “procession of donating rice” by local villagers to their community's monks

-was hit by a firework during a massive festival that included a firework competition (it hurt)

-played volleyball with 15 Burmese men on a makeshift volleyball court

-fell in love with my Burmese tour guide in Kalaw, and saw her twice in a different city—fate?

-got drunk by noon because I thought I was going to a tea house, which turned out to be a whiskey and rum house
-was told the country needed people like me
-learned more about traveling in 10 days than I have in 10 years

None of these things involve the beauty or serenity of the places I saw, but rather revolve around the people I met. I was able to have many of these sensational experiences because I was traveling alone and therefore forced to talk to new people, but more so because I’ve learned to travel in a way that enriches myself as well as the people around me. Traveling does not need to be and should not be a selfish act.  If I decide to write a book, this will be its theme. By integrating yourself into the culture around you, the experience becomes one of human interaction. From unique and illuminating human interaction, rare and meaningful emotions are evoked that trigger your senses and last in your memory.  It really isn't the magnificent sunset or serene mountain or crystal beach that you will remember, but it's the friendly, interesting people that you meet who make the lasting impression. This is what happened in Myanmar, and this is what I hope will happen on every future trip I take.  Perhaps it’s easier said than done, but I’ve learned to travel not to the place, but rather to travel to the people.

Bangkok, Thailand

Koh Phi Phi, Thailand

Yangon, Myanmar (Yes that is me wearing the traditional "longyi" in the foreground)

Bagan, Myanmar

Mandalay, Myanmar

Kalaw, Myanmar

Inle Lake, Myanmar

One funny story: In another post I mentioned how important and beneficial it is to know some of the local language when traveling.  But don't expect this to come easily or without tribulation.  For example, in Burmese, "la day" means beautiful or handsome (for people and sights) and "con day" means beautiful or delicious (for food).  However, I mixed these two up constantly, which is why I received strange looks when I called my lunch "handsome" and a Burmese baby "delicious".

Travelaholic

Entry #19.  July 17, 2013, 7:05 pm.  Living room, Apartment, District 5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  At times, my life is just not real.  In hindsight, I shake my head at Jon-past... and the craziness partly explains the 4.5 month gap between current posts.  (The other 96% is due to laziness.)  If you've noticed, I'm back in the Ho in Vietnam, but the past two months have been filled with other places.  In May, I flew east back home to Florida for a very stressful month of beach weather.  I meant to write a blog post when I was in the airport heading back home for the first time (reflecting upon my very first post), but I was in the 96% at that point.  It felt great to be home.  I was really looking forward to seeing my family, friends, and large food portions at restaurants.  I was pleasantly satiated.  I will admit, though, that at first I was a bit worried for a bout of reverse culture shock.  Being reintroduced to the environment that I am so familiar with, but having been far away from for so long, brought about some anxiety.  Also because I've become so Vietnamese, immigrating to America was no small task.  People so tall.  Everyone drive car.  So expensive.  People so nice.  Traffic law?  In fact, the only bouts I suffered from were in the bathroom, as my stomach and intestines were not used to American ingredients.  No bum guns to help, either.  But after the initial small-talk, I was having normal, ludicrous conversations with my friends again, and it was like I had never left.  The beer is definitely better in America, by the way.

In June, I flew east to Europe to visit my brother and sister-in-law, who are currently living in Zurich, Switzerland.  If a family member or good friend lives in Europe, I will visit, freeload, entertain, and take to happy hour.  This is to be expected.  Such victims were my brother and his wife.  They turned out to be incredible hosts and even though they worked during the day, I  was easily able occupy myself by galavanting around the city or often day-drinking by the lake.  'Twas a glorious fortnight in Switzerland.  But as I tell my story to others, at this point people start shaking their heads, maybe you included.  After two weeks in Zurich, I met my mother in Nice, France for another stressful week of leisure.  It actually was the best time, and even though our travel styles are a bit different by now, we managed to see much of the area and slowly lounge on full bellies.  After another sad goodbye, I left my family in Zurich to meet up with some good friends in Bavaria.  We first spent a night in Como, Italy, and in one day we had breakfast in Italy, lunch in Austria, and dinner in Germany.  A foodie's dream.  We beer-gardened in the countryside and also partied in Munich for my friend's birthday.  Another burdensome week.  I, myself, am shaking my head at past-Jon again.  It was an unreal holiday.  However, I've learned something about myself.  At separate times throughout the trip, my brother, sister-in-law, mother, and friends called me an alcoholic.  I find it a bit presumptuous, but then again I was on vacation from my vacation and drinks are a big part of culture.  And the beer is much better in Germany, by the way.

After a month in Europe, I flew east again (stopping in Dubai) to completely circumnavigate the world in just two months, and arrived back in Vietnam.  Within a day I was in the classroom and within a week I am completely settled, with my Euro-chocolate souvenirs already almost gone.  Once again, it feels like I never left, but in a completely different place.  This is the grail of a world traveler, and I am so fortunate to have been able to live my passion.  Overall, in two months I visited eleven countries, tried speaking five languages, and gained 14 pounds.  I'll be completing a life achievement soon, too, by applying to get extra pages for my passport.  But, you never realize how much you'll miss a place until you leave for so long, and I was relieved and happy to be back in the heat and intensity of Ho Chi Minh City.  I even missed the kids on Saturday early mornings.  It's felt so good to be back, so much that I decided the beer is much better in Vietnam, by the way.

Vung Tau, Viet Nam

Zurich, Switzerland

Colmar, France

The Matterhorn, Zermatt, Switzerland

Nice, France

Antibes, France

Villefranche Sur Mer, France

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Tour de France fly-by, Nice, France

Neuschwanstein, Bavaria, Germany

Heaven

*I owe any surviving readers at least one humorous anecdote.  After leaving 'Nam for a long amount of time, I almost forgot how insanely ridiculous it can be.  I went to get a needed haircut the other day, in order to tame the nappy beast nest that developed on top of my head.  Unfortunately, Mano Mano, my previous upscale hair salon, had closed while I was gone.  I was a proud member with a card and everything...probably the only time in my life I will be a member of a hair salon.  So I found a new place, although it was just a small barbershop with only three chairs and a few locals sitting around.  A big fan in the corner cooled the room and also blew hair all over the floor, and a TV was blaring a Vietnamese soap opera.  The owner shepherded me into a chair and the barber came over.  I was hoping to receive a quick and simple haircut... but those adjectives are seldom used in Saigon.  The barber began fine-trimming my hair, using scissors when anyone else would just use a buzzer.  I was already growing impatient, but it was turning out to be a pretty intricate haircut.  After deciding that the ceremonious clippings were done, I sat up ready to pay.  But the owner came over and quickly shoved me back to lay down.  A woman came over with a knife.  I then realized that I was about to be shaved... my first street-side hot shave.  I had been hesitant to indulge in this Asian novelty, but since it seemed imminent, I obliged and tried to enjoy.  (Not that my grasp on Vietnamese could have stopped it from happening, anyway.)  The woman covered my face with hot shaving cream and began minutely hacking at my facial hair.  Never before had someone put a knife to my throat, and thank goodness I didn't have to sneeze.  She did a very comprehensive job and shaved parts of my face that I didn't even know could grow hair, such as my forehead and below my eyes.  Again I sat back up ready to pay, but only to be forced back down again by the owner, who had assumed the role of my personal supervisor.  I braced myself for the next stage.  I turned my head to the right and saw a different woman wheeling a rickety cart over with a tray of 1950s neurosurgical-looking tools.  This is when I broke.  I quickly sat up and said "không, không, cảm ơn!" and waved my hands, realizing that they were going to use these long needles and throngs to clean my ears.  The girl slightly bowed and turned the cart around to go back to the scary room it came from.  Almost immediately, the owner pressed me back down into my seat again.  Taking things into his own hands, he showed me a small vial with white cream in it and proclaimed "it good, it good!".  He proceeded to rub it all over my face and then apply white strips of linen over it, so that I now looked like a burn victim.  It was a fitting metaphor for the fiery destruction of my dignity and trust in barbershops.  I was left to sit for another solid 15 minutes while the solution dried on my face.  At this point, it was over an hour time in this damned chair.  Finally, the young surgeon girl came back over, this time without any equipment.  She started to pull the bandages off to peel away the cream.  I never knew my skin was so loose and leathery, so it hurt like hell... and because she was irritating my eyes, I had tears completely streaming down my face.  It was very comical for the employees and why not be laughed at in this ludicrous situation?  The hair from my face, the skin from my nose, the water from my eyes, and my self-respect were already gone, so I had nothing to lose.  My traditional facial was then completed and I was FINALLY able to stand up and pay.  I was so happy that is was all over, as I had to be at work in 30 minutes, that I tipped them 20,000 Dong and got out of there quickly.  I left crying, still in pain, and with a small suspicion of Hepatitis, but I don't have any rogue hairs on my cheek bones and I gained an eternal appreciation for Q-tips.  

Onwards

Entry #18.  February 27, 2013, 6:08 pm.  Living room, Apartment, District 5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  A year abroad.  18 blog posts later, I sit at my same computer and think about how my time abroad has changed me, how my experiences have shaped my thinking, and how I've learned from the new people I've met.  But once more I mostly focus on how quickly time has gone by, especially when I consider that I originally planned to stay just six months.  To think about the person I was a year ago, before the Eastern hemisphere exploded before me, I can conclude that my moral framework- my perspective on human reality- has been shaken, because I have seen so many new things and thought about matters that never before entered my mind.  My political and even religious views have evolved, in attempt to rectify the human conditions I've witnessed.  By starting a new life across the world, I've been instilled with new forms of confidence, practicality, and adaptability.  And best of all, I can carry these transformations into the future, to better myself as a worldly inquisitor.

Recap- the past 12 months in a paragraph: I've lived and studied in Phnom Penh, trekked through Khmer jungles and temples, swam along the budding beaches of coastal Cambodia, eaten my way through Singaporean neighborhoods, traveled to the traditional north and historic middle of Vietnam, observed Ramadan in Kuala Lumpur, trudged through island rainforest in Malaysia, slept under a mosquito net in the rice patties of the Mekong Delta.  I've celebrated Christmas with my family in Vienna, capered in the Austrian Alps, indulged in Paris, meandered down France into Switzerland, flown back across the world to my home of Vietnam, continued my life as an English teacher in Ho Chi Minh City, and I've (evidently) learned to use the present perfect tense. And most recently, I've returned from a provoking trip in Indonesia.  "The world is only as big as what you know."  Agreed, and looking back, I can affirm that traveling to new places makes the world smaller, but its meaning much larger.

From my past, we move to the present plans for my future.  Status: tentative.  It's a lot harder to stop when you've got the momentum of the travel bug.  But as much as I'm allowed to say, I intend to come home in the next five years.  The engagement has complicated things, her family is particular, and it will take time to move a family into America.  And I'm in no hurry to return to a country that hosts all three of my outstanding arrest warrants.

By now, dry sarcasm should be nothing new.  I will, however, publicly announce that I plan on coming home this year to pursue my career, but currently, my life ain't broke, and I ain't going to fix it.  Here's why:

What thoughts and images unfold in your mind when I mention Bali?  If you're my mother, you're asking, "Where's that?"  If you're my sister, you're asking, "What's that?".  Well, most people don't realize it's an island off of Java (the world's most populous island) in Indonesia.  As one friendly local man said, "people say they've been to Bali, but if you ask if they've been to Indonesia, they say no!".  Further, it is not exactly common knowledge that Indonesia is the world's fourth most populous nation, after China, India, and the United States.  The island of Java itself has nearly 135 million people- a little less than half of the population of the US- crammed onto a detached landmass the size of North Carolina.  The nation also ranks as the world's most populated Islamic country, but Buddhism and Hinduism (primarily on the island of Bali) remain strong cultural influences.  What's more, the country is filled with stunning beaches, delicious cuisine, enormous biodiversity, and interesting people.  At first, ten days seemed like a long time for a holiday, but I could have spent ten weeks island-hopping in this largely underappreciated nation between the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

I went with six other teacher-friends and we first flew to Jakarta.  Another enormous and frenetic capital city, we decided that two nights was enough time to spend in what was first thought to be a Saigon-like, cement jungle of chaos.  However, we arrived the night before the Chinese New Year (called Tết in Vietnam and massively celebrated in southern Asia), and the city was relatively quiet.  We spent the first day in my ideal way- drinking the local drinks and sightseeing the local sights... these are a few of my favorite things.  Because it was Chinese New Year, we thought it would be a good idea to head to Chinatown, to see the dancing dragons,  impossibly flexible street performers, and bustling markets that sell antique fireworks-- all the things that should be expected of a celebrating Chinatown.  Upon arriving, we weren't even sure if the cab driver had taken us to the correct spot because the streets were empty and the only vendor in sight was selling hamster cages.  The local architecture revealed that we were indeed in Chinatown, but where were all the people?  After turning down a lantern-covered alleyway, witnessing a chicken slaughter, and passing napping rickshaw drivers, we finally approached a small crowd.   Following a trickle of people down an even smaller alleyway, we were coughed out into a wide courtyard decorated with a red central pagoda, masses of praying Chinese, and a swirling prayer house.  All the activity of this particular neighborhood was condensed in the Buddhist temple before us.  People were lighting candles, burning incense, and releasing live birds from cages.   After spending the whole day in what was a seemingly empty capital city, we were all enlivened when we discovered this burst of Chinese energy... or as you may know it better, qi.

From Jakarta we ventured to highly anticipated Bali.  A two hour plane ride across a different time zone took us to the world renowned island, where Hinduism is the dominant religion and a unique language (Balinese) is spoken.  Bali was the it place to go in the past decades, and it is currently seeing a resurgent boom in its tourism industry.  Nonetheless, February is a perfect month to go because it's in the low season, and therefore escapes the other months when hordes of tank-top-wearing Australians bombard the island with Ozzy debauchery.  We spent our first nights in Kuta, the spoiled tacky tourist beach town of southern Bali.  The 'Cancun' of Asia and complete with Señor Frogs-esque beach bars, Kuta was fun but not quite a cultural epiphany.  I enjoyed spending the day under the sun and above the sand, but two days was enough in that joint and our next stop was due to be a far more genuine experience.  We bussed up to Ubud, which lies within the mountainous Balinese jungles.  The town is a haven for artists, hippie tourists, yoga junkies, and Crab-eating Macaque monkeys.  Although not untouched by the tourism trail, Ubud still has a sense of exotic mystique, with the dense tangle of vines, towering trees, relentless insects, and sporadic Hindu spirit temples adding to the old charm of the South Pacific.  My favorite day of the entire trip started early in Ubud, when our hired driver took us to a traditional Balinese dance concert (somewhat of a tourist trap and somewhat horrifying when the midgets came out).  Interesting, but not riveting.  Onwards we went to the backcountry and hiked a short path to a stunning waterfall- the kind of waterfall you would expect to see in the background of an antique postcard.  I chose to venture towards the falls and swim in the pool of churning water.  Call it my Balinese baptism, it was a very beautiful spot in this beautiful world and 30 minutes of euphoric swimming that I will not forget.  Next our driver took us to a reputable wood-carving workshop, where we watched the typical "how-to" demo from the token English speaker, to then peruse the intricate final products.  One guy in our party decided to drop $800 on three delicate Balinese masks, and I felt compelled to show him up and purchase a $15 wooden elephant.  Afterwards, we ate lunch at a market food stand so that we could try the local favorite- suckling pig.  A massive pig sat looking dead with a spick impaled through its opposite holes, and the lady relentlessly carved off some shavings, including its crispy skin.  Then a bowl of noodles, pork, intestines, blood cake, liver, heart, and skin was delivered to me and I had to try my best to enjoy the bodily feast.  Some biological structures taste better than others.  After our bellies were full of swine organs, our driver took us to one of the most revered holy sites on the island, the Hindu water temple.  It took an hour's ride deeper into the mountains to bring us to Istana Tampak Siring, or the Holy Springs Water Temple.  In the center of this forest sanctuary sit two rectangular, crystal clear, natural pools.  Against their far walls, nearly 15 spouts of natural spring water, believed to have mystical healing powers, jet out from the mouths of stone carvings.    Each spout has a unique ability, whether to heal the sick or bring good fortune.  An incredible place.  Some intriguing things about this temple-  tourists and worshippers together can enter the pools and rinse off in the holy waters (of course I did), the President of Indonesia's Bali mansion sits above the temple on a hilltop, sarongs are needed to enter the most sacred parts of the temple (including the pools), and two holy spouts in the line of 15 must be avoided, as they are reserved only for the dead.  This place was a true highlight; the feeling of bathing in purely natural water under the tropical canopy, amongst devout worshippers, really brought me a sense of tranquility and a connection to the human spirit that I was not expecting.  I felt just like Julia Roberts in one of her "find myself" movies, in fact.  We needed several hours to explore the rest of the temple, and then later we finally embarked on our journey back to Ubud.  The drive led us through tiered rice patties of every shade of green, and after few hours we were all sipping cocktails at sunset back in Ubud.  Although it took a hefty paragraph to describe, this day was a perfectly paced expedition around central Bali.

To find the more untainted beaches of Indonesia, a few days later we ferried our way to the Gili islands, a small archipelago that boasts amazing scenery.  And although 'amazing' is often amazingly overused in American slang, which is amazing b.t.dubs, here it is rightful.  Besides a single road crammed with restaurants, swim-up bars, dive shops, and bungalows, the island hosts turquoise water that I've only seen elsewhere in the Caribbean, as well as white-pink beaches with volcano-laden backdrops.  Truly amazing. 

 I fully embraced the island lifestyle and if I had stayed any longer, I would have started growing dreadlocks and getting Bob Marley tattoos just like the overly Rasta locals.  I completely lost track of time while I was there; the only two options were that it was either light, or dark.  The days were spent on the beach and in the water and the nights in bars or restaurants, either partying too hard or eating too much.  The many local seafood barbecues served up some of the tastiest grouper and snapper I've ever drooled over.  Some of the best scuba diving I've done as well, where I was swimming alongside Lionfish, Giant Moray Eels, Parrotfish, and Hawksbill Turtles.  Not to mention the famed Kimodo Dragons lived a half-day excursion away.  Again, I could have spent many more days on this particular island, and I'm even sad thinking about when I had to leave it...especially as I type and see on my arms that my Bali bronze is fading away.

One year sounds like a very long time, but really, 365.25 days it just an arbitrary measurement.  My mind is molding and the plasticity of my thoughts is exploited while I experience the world.  One lesson I dwell on is that it is very important to stay in the present, because those who dwell on the past can get depressed and those who concentrate on the future are likely to get anxious.  Peace comes in the now, and right now, I am staying in Vietnam to continue my life as a world investigator... at least until I feel it's time to throw off my conical hat, hang up my pollution mask, and pack up my chopsticks to come home.

Reunited and It Feels So Good

Entry #17.  January 23, 2013, 10:12 pm.  Bedroom, Apartment, District 5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  Another two months slip by, uncontrollably but now expectedly.  Packed with travels, revelries, stories and Swiss chocolate, the recent weeks have been nothing less than exciting.  I am bursting at the seams to write about my family’s European Christmas Vacation (film rights still available), but I can’t neglect an entire month and a half of living in Vietnam.  I am left reeling back the Rolodex of memories, finding the ones that are most worthy of the screen.

In my last post, I focused on our new apartment.  After our first week of soaking into the place and swimming in all its perks (all pool puns to remind you that we do literally soak and swim), we threw a raging, hyped pool party that became the talk of the English teachers’ inner circles of districts 1, 3, and 5 of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  Nearly 50 people came and graced our neighbors with loud conversations and cannonballs.  It was so fun that someone got hurt.  A few, actually.  One roommate fell down the stairs twice, someone fell in the pool and out of it, another threatened to jump off the awning into the deep end, and I found at least one band-aid in the pool.  But after the last roisterers left at sunrise, I could tell myself that at least it was just a band-aid.  It was a great time and appeased my nostalgia for college-type parties, and as far as we know, no complaints were filed from the other 23 floors.

This same teacher that is publicizing his debaucheries also wants to note a recent success.  The English school I work for, VUS, celebrates Teachers’ Day every November.  At a large banquet hall, the twelve school campuses come together to drink and eat their way through speeches, award presentations, painful emcee jokes, and dance performances.  Note: Positively correlated to the length of the speeches was the drunkenness of the teachers.  By the awards time, though, I was happy to be called on stage to win one of the ‘Teacher of the Year’ awards.  I was excited because I knew I had greatly improved as a teacher, and my classroom games are ever evolving.  Along with many other winners from different campuses, we were given a plaque, an invitation to an away trip to the beach, and a fake rose.  And a blown up picture of my face popped onto the screen for a few seconds, to the onlookers’ delight.

Nothing else accelerated time like the wait for my anticipated trip to Europe to meet my family, though.  Because my brother, Jeremy, now lives in Zurich, Switzerland with my sister-in-law, my parents decided that we should all meet up in wintry Europe for the holidays.  Tropical Christmas in Saigon didn’t sell as well as the Alpine option, but I was more than content to meet my family across the Pond (although that phrase has no meaning coming from Asia).  We met at the luggage carousels in the Vienna airport a few days before Christmas.  As it had been the longest time I had ever gone without seeing my family, I could not wait to see them.  This reunion could have been in any city in the world, but the place of it would still be completely overshadowed by the excitement I had to see my parents, brother, and sisters for the first time in 10 months.  After the sappy rejoining of the clan of Martin, we began our first family adventure through Europe, and my first time on the continent in winter. 

The drive-through version: I loved every snow-peaked mountain, soaring steeple, piquant bakery, and even all the obviously posed family pictures.  The longer version: You can download as a .pdf file from link below.  Kidding, I’ll restrain my phalanges and keep it short...ish. 

We begin in Vienna, Austria.  This city was my recommendation, as I’d imagined it to be the exemplar of old World Christmas charm.  The city did not fail.  It began to snow on our cab ride from the airport, and the quaint opulence of Vienna looked even more stunning in white.  We immediately fell in love with the traditional Viennese coffee houses: My mom on a quest to find the perfect hot chocolate, my brother to find the most efficient caffeine product, my sister to find the most fashionable way to drink whipped cream, my father to find Splenda sweetener, Laura to find a way to practice her German, and I to find the best piece of Sacher Torte.  Beyond the coffee houses were beautiful Christmas markets, which were always piping with hot gluhwein, the effective warmer of choice.  The most beautiful Weihnachtsmarkt existed in the front courtyard of Schoenbrunn Palace, Marie Antoinette’s birthplace.  We saw Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker at the Vienna State Opera House, which boasts of itself.  After an orchestral Christmas Eve concert and singing the Austrian classic, “Silent Night” at Midnight Mass in St. Stephen’s Cathedral, we were all pleasantly satiated with Vienna’s generous dose of Christmas panache.

On Christmas day we flew to Jeremy and Laura’s leg of the trip- Innsbruck, Austria.  I can see why the old Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I, decided to pimp out a famous balcony and set up base camp here.  Massive Austrian Alps make the 360° backdrop for multi-colored Baroque buildings.  Lauremy chose to ski (or to fine-tune their yodeling) while the rest settled for some altitude drinking on the mountain.  But perhaps the most magical moment of the trip happened when we stumbled into the city center on Christmas night.  On three separate balconies (including the famed Golden Roof balcony) surrounding the central, massive Christmas tree were three string quartets, all harmonizing or playing verses of traditional carols.  With a nearby gluhwein stand, I think we were all in Christmas bliss.

The next stop of the vacation was pretty bland and uneventful, with little history and not much to see.  Paris was just, eh.  …said no one, ever.  Quite possibly my favorite city in the world, again I loved experiencing a European city in the winter, with chilly winds, mysterious fog, and bright afternoons.  We stayed in an apartment on the coveted Île Saint-Louis, along with my aunt and cousin, who both joined us in Paris.  Our days included the Louvre, Versailles, more gluhwein, bistros, exploring, red wine, black coffee, and many trips to the bakeries.  My mom was a regular at the nearest bakery, going three separate times one morning because she kept “forgetting” things.  Not that I’m complaining.  I also tried to utilize French as much as possible, as I made a cheat sheet of useful phrases and greetings.  I would spend the whole cab ride trying to memorize the correct way to order tap water or to see the menu, but, typically, my mom would spit out some overly assertive English immediately upon sitting down.  This allowed me to use the phrase je suis désolé (I’m sorry) quite frequently.  All was well, though, and we were all proclaiming bonjour and au revoir in due time.

The Martin itinerary led us next to Strasbourg, France and finally to Zurich, Switzerland.  Strasbourg has always appealed to me, because it sits in the contentious Alsace-Lorraine region in eastern France, on the border with Germany.   Its tumultuous history of continuous annexation by Germany and then France, and then Germany again and back to France, has providentially left a town with incredible architecture, delicious food, and a hybrid Franco-Germanic culture.  Undoubtedly it was a worthy two-night stay, but quickly after tootling around the city we found ourselves on a train destined for our last stop, Zurich.  The most recent stomping ground of my brother Jeremy and his wife Laura, Zurich was highly anticipated because we all wanted to see their new home.  How amusing it is that my family now spans three continents, nearly equidistant away from each other.  Zurich therefore had a sense of comfort because Jeremy and Laura could host our reunion, and we could all have dinner in their apartment, see their daily routes, and experience their favorite spots of the city.  Firstly, though, in Switzerland I was able to remedy a rather deep craving that has plagued my appetite since I moved to Asia-- we're talking cheese. I wanted nothing less than to bathe in cheese, and had the fondue pot been wider, it would have happened.  Two lost lovers came back together in a passionate night of palatable bliss.  Beyond my intimate dinner with cheese, Zurich offered a beautiful end to an epic holiday in Europe.  On one of our final nights together, we paid tribute to my end of the world and ate at a Vietnamese restaurant ironically near to my brother’s apartment.  I was thrilled to show my kinsmen how to properly eat noodle soups with chopsticks and cut meat with spoons.  Upon entering the restaurant, I was inclined to take charge and order for everyone.  The young Vietnamese girl who worked the register was appreciatively surprised when I choked out some Vietnamese, peppered with tolerable German.  But after having slugged down a few tall beers beforehand with my brother and father, the exchange between the cashier and I was more of a comical slur of hybrid words.  I am conversational in German, at best, yet barely passable in Swiss German, and remarkably unremarkable (after 11 months in Vietnam) in Vietnamese.  However with a belly and mind full of good beer, I am perfectly fluent in all three.  In the end, I ordered the table some damn good food, including phở, bún chả, and Vietnamese curry.  The meal was completed with the (in)famous Saigon Red beer, which I was shocked the restaurant had.  Until they come to visit, my family was able to have a literal taste of Vietnam, and I was overjoyed to finally be at the same table.

Back to ‘Nam I went, unbearably sad to leave the family and angered at time for being so unruly again.  But I had the comfort of continuing my journey in Vietnam, and I was revitalized to maximize every moment of it.  However, I really shouldn’t grumble… I am going to Bali next week for the Vietnamese New Year, as I have 10 days off, and I’ll have another pinnacle world site to discover.  I’m learning that the world is both large and small, with time propelling it, and that now is when I should see as much of it as I can.