“While we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.” – J.K. Rowling
I recently combined a fear of traveling alone with a dream of visiting SE Asia. I lived out of a backpack, partied without my usual friends, and went on some crazy adventure trips. In this blog post, I will share my highest moment, my oh sh-t moments, why dating is so hard for me (*harder than it already is for the average person), and my self-discovery moment.
I have been dealt unique cards throughout my life, and I have been, and still am trying my best to play the hand masterfully. To create a backdrop, I did not have strong role models growing up. My mother abandoned me as a child. My father is a man of few words. My stepmother is a classic “tiger mom” and reassured me that I’d be a starving artist after I decided to pursue a Film degree. I spent my childhood in the Mission and Tenderloin districts of San Francisco. For non-San Franciscans, this translates to hipsters and drug addicts, respectively. In elementary school, I discovered what it was like to be stalked by sexual predators (yes, plural). In high school, my stepmother slapped me when I did not understand a math problem, and pretty hard too, I should add, especially for a woman of such petite stature. The icing on the cake is that she favors her own son over me. The benefit to all of this? At a young age, I developed a tough skin and an inherent understanding of the fact that oftentimes, life is not fair. But to put my cards on the table, I have battled (past tense) alcohol abuse, and more specifically, having grown up without a strong motherly figure, I struggle (present tense) to see my own beauty. I don’t know how to take a compliment, and I second-guess myself every time I swipe right or meet someone IRL.
Friends who know me well will know that I am deathly afraid of three things:
1. Snakes, worms, and caterpillars
2. The sight of blood
3. Ex-girlfriends
The first two are arbitrary, but the third one is directly related to the aforementioned paragraph.
Throughout my childhood, the only constant was change, so as an adult, I find myself avoiding change and incessantly trying to hold onto things, whether it’s a job, a boyfriend, and so on. To adapt to this flaw, my approach is to avoid my comfort zone, because this is where dreams go to die. And so, it’s with this mentality that I decided to throw my things into a backpack and buy a one-way ticket to SE Asia to embark on a self-discovery trip. Trust me, while it may seem like it was a whimsical decision, you should know that I was on the brink of tears waiting in the security line at the airport; my heart was palpitating and my hands were trembling as I boarded my plane.
This blog post will focus primarily on my “oh sh-t moments,” because 1) I realize that no one cares what fun thing I did on this day and what I ate on that day, and 2) the “oh sh-t moments” crystallize lessons learned.
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To start, I will share my single, highest moment:
My favorite pho restaurant in SF has a framed photograph of Ha Long Bay, and every time I eat there, I admire it. I booked a one-night cruise to sail through Ha Long Bay, and it was easily the highest moment of my backpacking trip in nine countries. We sailed to the furthest point, Bai Tu Long Bay, so there were no other boats around. That night, everyone had retired to their rooms, but I went out to the bow of the boat. I sipped on my Ha Long beer, listened to the gentle splashing of the emerald waters against our boat, and looked up at the stars as they illuminated the towering limestone pillars surrounding me. It made me complete. I love the mantra of “speaking it into reality,” and that night, I thought to myself, “I did it. I’m here.”
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Now I’ll move on to…
Oh sh-t moment #1:
Ironically, it was on this same cruise that I experienced my first low moment. I met Emma and her mother, Sheryl, from New Zealand on my cruise. They were taking a mother/daughter trip together. As bittersweet as it was to discover this, I couldn’t help but warm up to them because they were so sweet. That night during dinner, there was arranged seating, so I was paired with another solo traveler, and adjacent to me was Emma, who was sitting across from her mother. And that was when it hit me, “Oh sh-t, this feels painful.” I could barely turn to even look at them. They were experiencing something so special that I will never have the chance to experience.
Oh sh-t moment #2:
My next destination following Vietnam was Myanmar. Upon arriving to Noi Bai International Airport and checking into my flight to Bagan, the airline representative asked for my Myanmar visa. I didn’t have one, because only then did I realize that I misread an online source regarding visas for Myanmar. You need one IN ADVANCE. (Pro tip: Do thorough research on every country and its visa requirements, if any.) To complicate matters, there are no direct flights to Bagan, so I needed to catch two flights that day, and the “oh sh-t moment” was when reality quickly set in that there was no way I was getting on these two flights, and that I would need to re-calibrate, get a rush visa ($198), and re-book flights ($$$).
Oh sh-t moment #3:
Four days later, I was armed with my Myanmar rush visa, and I proudly boarded my flight to Yangon, and then my flight from Yangon to Bagan. I was nervous about visiting this country because of the current events around the Rohingya refugee crisis. A friend of mine advised me not to go, but the heart wants what the heart wants, which was to fly in a hot air balloon over the temples of Bagan (don’t judge). Upon finally arriving to Nyaung U Airport, the power straight up just went out in the entire airport. After about 10 minutes, the power returned to reveal five guys standing by the exit hustling taxi rides. There was nowhere in this tiny airport to buy a SIM card, so I held my breath and took a chance on getting into an unmarked car to take me to my hotel. (I made it to my hotel safely, and fast forward to the next morning…) I woke up at 4:30am, pumped to get into that hot air balloon. A minivan arrived to pick me up. Inside were two men, neither of which spoke English. Outside, the sky was pitch black and the roads were unpaved, with little to nothing as far as houses and buildings. I looked down at my phone only to be reminded that I had no cell phone reception. I thought to myself, this could very well be how I will die. (Fast forward: I did not die. I discovered later that morning that hot air balloon rides were cancelled due to the rain, and that if I wanted to, I could try again the next morning. So I did it all over again the next morning only to receive the same update. By this point, I had to catch my next flight to Bangkok, so after jumping through all of these fiery hoops to get to Bagan, I couldn’t do the one thing I had set out to do.) The resounding “oh sh-t moment” actually hit me when I was in Thailand, where I traded travel stories with a new friend, who said, “Even as a guy, he wouldn’t go to Myanmar by himself.” And that’s when I thought to myself, “Sh-t, I can’t believe I just did that.”
Oh sh-t moment #4:
I befriended a gentleman on my flight from Yangon to Bangkok. He referred to himself as Dr. No. We shared a natural rapport. He was a successful businessman originally from South Korea, now based in Thailand. As a solo female backpacker, a theme throughout my travels was thin-slicing, and I tried my best to thin-slice Dr. No. I was comforted by the fact that he showed me photos of his wife and two kids, although my spidey senses tickled when he then told me that his wife and children live in South Korea, he alluded to his affinity for having fun, and he even invited me to his house for a homemade dinner prepared by his maid. Despite that, I felt a good enough read from him, and I told him how I was glad to have made a new friend in Bangkok, as I’d heard mixed things about the city and was nervous about arriving, dealing with tuk-tuks, sex tourism, etc. He said that he had a private car picking him up, and offered to give me a ride to my hotel. Again, thin-slicing as best I could, I felt that he was trustworthy enough for me to agree to a ride. (And hey, it was pretty stressful at times as a solo female backpacker, and the thought of a ride to my hotel in a private car was alluring.) Upon arriving to Bangkok, sure enough, a luxury minivan pulled up. The driver put our bags in the trunk and then escorted me into the minivan. The moment the door closed, I thought, “Oh sh-t”. I stared at the door handle, and a flurry of “What if’s” raced through my mind. (Fast forward: After politely declining his invite to have dinner at his house, Dr. No treated me to a seafood dinner in Bangkok’s Chinatown, and then dropped me off at my hotel. After graciously thanking him for everything, he explained that his birthday was next week, and he felt compelled to do a good deed before then, i.e.: looking out for a solo female traveler. He said that I should think of him as a Korean “older brother”. Sounds too good to be true, in my humble opinion, but we will never know what his real intentions were as I never called him back. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, though, and think that perhaps he really was just a kindhearted person looking out for someone that greatly appreciated it.)
Oh sh-t moment #5:
This one is eerily similar to “Oh sh-t moment #1” in that Anneli and her mother were also doing a mother/daughter trip. Anneli was planning to do a solo trip to Thailand, and the salt on the wound was when I found out that her mother wouldn’t let Anneli go alone because she was too worried about her. As bittersweet as it was to meet them, I couldn’t help but say to Anneli’s mother, “You are a good mother.”
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At the onset of my trip, I knew that there would be moments when everything goes south on me, and I wanted to experience these “oh sh-t moments” to challenge my fear of change and to grow as a person. At the time, the “oh sh-t moments” felt awful, and I really thought to myself, “This is it. This is how I end,” but it’s about playing through the pain and conditioning your mind to see the benefit in any situation. Missing my Myanmar flights meant that I had three more nights in Hanoi, and it was on my last night there that I discovered THE BEST PHO. And as for the moments involving my mother, or lack thereof rather, it was a humble reminder that between loving and abhorring something, there is acceptance. I learned that taking deep breaths goes a long way. This trip was about creative problem solving, trusting in yourself, and in others (plus thin-slicing, obviously).
I needed to experience these overseas “oh sh-t moments” to prepare me for…
Oh sh-t moment #6:
I flew home for a friend’s wedding reception on November 11. I knew that my ex-boyfriend would be there, which was okay since we’re on good terms. Sometimes, as evident during my travels, the universe likes to test what I’m made of, because standing alongside my ex-boyfriend was his date–his ex-girlfriend. I just saw and conquered the world, so it was a paradoxical feeling to face one of my kryptonites shortly thereafter. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that if I could handle all of those oh sh-t moments in SE Asia, there is nothing that I can’t handle, including this. After all, to step out of your comfort zone means to face your fears, so I am proud to say that I pushed through the fight-or-flight response, and I smiled the entire night. (However, I am not proud to admit that my hands were trembling and that I succumbed to my other kryptonite of self-medicating with alcohol.) I feel embarrassed to even deem this as an “oh sh-t moment,” because I acknowledge that it really is quite trivial after traveling around the world and gaining perspective on what really matters, but it goes to show how deep this fear runs in my veins.
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To end on a high note: My self-discovery moment
I hired a private driver in Myanmar to take me around to the temples. I barely understood any of his English, but I was okay with it, because the sights of the country compensated. When he dropped me off at the airport, he told me that he’s driven around a lot of travelers, but I stood out to him because I had a positive demeanor. And apparently, not complaining about his English meant a lot to him, because he’s received a lot of hate for it in the past.
As I mentioned at the start of this entry, I don’t know how to take a compliment. I needed to fly halfway around the world to have my driver in Myanmar tell me that I’m good–that I’m doing okay despite the cards I’ve been dealt.
Here is my driver singing along with the radio. Although I don’t understand Burmese, I still felt the love.
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Having heard the good, the bad, and the ugly about SE Asia, I was apprehensive at first, but I found it to be an enchanting place. I wouldn’t call it a vacation as it was a battle against the elements: heat, rain, malaria, food poisoning, etc. But there is beauty everywhere if you choose to see it, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. As the key principle of the Toyota Production principle goes: Genchi Genbutsu, which means “Go and see for yourself”. And who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself along the way, too.
Throughout my childhood, no one had my back. This adventure has taught me that I’ve got my own back, that the world’s got my back…and that I’m kind of a badass.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. It means more than you know. I hope you found it helpful in some way(s), but if not, at least you know a little more about me now, so I thank you, again.
One people, one world, one…
Love,
Julia
“We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.” – Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture
Nine countries.
Eight weeks.
Seven local beers.
Six new elephant friends.
Five times that I was certain I’d be “Taken”.
Four languages that locals approached me in (Thai, Japanese, Korean, and Mandarin).
Three tubes of sunscreen.
Too many places still yet to explore.
One people. One world. One love.
That first night in Bagan, I woke up to a weight at the end of my bed. My first thought was of Laurie waking me up for our rendezvous with the sunrise. When I felt the weight slipping under the cover I realized I was either dreaming or experiencing something closer to a ghost encounter.
In a city as ancient as Bagan, it is easy to imagine coexisting with spirits and superstitions. But exhaustion won out fear, and the only thing I could muster was a request to the spirit/bad dream to go away. When the real Laurie woke me up at 4:45 AM, I was still exhausted from a night too short. But even with disrupted sleep, sunrise over Bagan is not something you miss.
We rented electric motorbikes from our hotel for 1,500 kyat each ($1.10 U.S.). We rode in the dark to Thitsarwadi temple, one of the many ancient temples near our hotel. It was pretty easy to find with instruction from our guide. Go past the Dhammayazika temple (the big golden pagoda was hard to miss), turn on a small road, then when you see a small sign, turn off to a dirt road around the bend on the right. It took us about 15 minutes to get there.
The temple was small unlike the Shwesandaw, the Sunset pagoda we were at the day before.We climbed up the steep steps and found we were not alone. Several early birds with heavy-duty professional cameras around their necks were already sitting on the edges of the brick overhang. They were waiting the perfect moment to capture the sunrise.
Armed with our mighty iPhones we stood in a scene reminiscing of the movie ‘City of Angels’. We were like the angels at the beach listening to the tinking of the bells as the sun rose. It was – and I don’t use this word often – magical.
Soon the morning ray peeled open the cloak of darkness and bathed the valley around us with warm orange light, revealing red brick temple tops and its green surrounding. Watching it unfold to the soundtrack of Gymnopedies was peace epitomized. It is human nature to want to find our place in the chaos of life and meaning in random encounters. And I wish that I could say something more meaningful for having witnessed the beautiful scenery, but there really are no words to replace the experience of having been there.
We took the overnight bus from Yangon to Bagan. Although technically we could have afforded plane tickets, we decided to try the local way. I’ve traveled by bus before in Thailand when I was younger, but this was a whole new ballgame. First, it was freezing cold. It seemed the driver was compensating for the hot weather and turned up the AC. Then there’s the roads. They were so bumpy we thought we were on a Mars rover.
To maintain a semblance of comfort, I found having these items helped: 1) Ear plugs (there were snorers); 2) Socks, jacket, scarf, sarong or whatever to keep warm; 3) Sleep mask because they left the lights on; 4) Water and snacks. Not all buses will give you food so don’t count on it; 5) Wet wipes. There were no bathrooms on the bus and the quality of bathrooms at the different stops was not standardized. One of the rest stops only had squat toilets with water in a bucket for washing.
When taking an overnight bus in a country where you lack the language skill, it is important to pay attention to what the driver said or ask your neighbors when in doubt. I know this should be a no-brainer. But at 11 PM, the mind does not think straight.
At the 76 km mark, the bus almost left our little group behind at a food stop because. Our fault. We didn’t know we only had 30 minutes. The driver had some attendants hunt us down while we were eating the last of our hot noodles soup. The walk of shame back to our seats was pretty embarrassing.
We arrived at Bagan just as the sun was rising. Bagan is an ancient archeological city that was the seat of the Pagan kingdom from the 9th to the 13th centuries. At its height, there were over 10k Buddhist temples, of which 3,122 remained. We spent our first day here in 4 of them: Shwesri Gon Pagoda, Htilominlo, Ananda Temple, and Shwesandaw, the Sunset Pagoda. The Shwesri Gon Pagoda from 11th century contains the bone relic of the Buddha. The Ananda Temple, another from the 11th century, has 10k Buddha images. Some depict the story of how the Buddha transformed from a prince to the enlightened one. There were more things we would have learned had we not had to siphon all of our effort toward not passing out from heat stroke.
The temples would be best visited early in the day. The walls of the temple absorb the heat and by end of the day it felt like 120 degree with 100% humidity inside. It was not easy to stay focused on our knowledgeable guide as he lectured about the differences in Buddha images from century to century. After a while, all we wanted was just a cold drink.
A few things I did learn:
1) Never, ever go to the Shwesandaw for sunset. It was a zoo! The precarious steep steps are dangerous to navigate when congested and the clouds made it impossible to see the sunset.
2) Some tourists can be rude if stuck on the said stone steps. They seemed to bring out the worst in some people. Just move slow and hug the wall.
3) Bobby will buy anything if under enough pressure. There were hundreds of vendors hawking all kinds of tourist trinkets. Some were extremely persistent. Bobby is now a proud owner of a painting he will never hang.
4) Always order the Burmese set meal. Always. You choose the meat (I chose fish and shrimp but there were also beef and chicken), which were then cooked in spices, onions, and peppers. It also came with a soup, a vegetable side, and rice. Heaven.
