“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.
A story about how a little village in Thailand is using ecotourism to raise itself from the mud and teach people to save the environment.
Ban Khun Samut Jeen is a village on stilts in Samut Prakan Province, Thailand. It reminds me a bit of the movie Waterworld, a 1995 film starring Kevin Costner about a post-apocalyptic world underwater. Due to global warming and erosion, a large part of the village was completely wiped off the map. To keep their plight on the map, the villagers promote ecotourism through their Homestay. A part of the profit helps support programs that combat erosion and educate people on how to save the environment.
Their Homestay was a great deal. For the price of 600 baht ($18) per adult a night, you get lodging, three delicious authentic Thai meals, and a learning experience. Even though it is only 19 kilometers from chaotic Bangkok, it feels as if you are a world away. Located where the Chao Phraya River meets the Gulf of Thailand, it is accessible only by boat. It was not the easiest place to get to. But it was well worth the trip.
To get there, we used the toll road from Bangkok to Samut Prakan. We followed directions to Pa Ree Port, “ท่าเรือป้ารี่”. (GPS coordinate 13.550067, 100.531123). We got there at dusk and parked the car overnight for 100 baht ($3). Across the parking space is the port where we hired a longtail boat to Ban Khun Samut Jeen port, “ท่าเรือบ้านขุนสมุทรจีน(บ้านผู้ใหญ่สมร)”. For our entire group, it cost only 150 baht ($4.50).
We raced along green tea-color waterways for 15 minutes and reached the port by nightfall. Our adventure did not end there. The port is about a 10-minute walk away from our destination. We dragged our suitcases on a raised dirt embankment flanked by water on each side (note: only bring backpacks next time). The darkness around us did not help. Along the way, we heard splashing and gurgling sounds from the water. Thankfully we had strong flashlights to light to way.
We arrived tired and hungry at Ban Khun Samut Jeen Homestay. The owner, Puyai Samorn, was not expecting us. It was completely our fault we did not call from Bangkok to confirm and had arrived so late they had thought we canceled (note: always call to confirm our stay next time). They scrambled to cook us dinner and set up a hut for us. It is a beautiful wood structure with thatch roof built on stilts over the water. Wood plank walkways guarded by friendly dogs connect it to the main building, restrooms, and other huts.
The traditional Thai meal served was amazing: deep-fried shrimps and fish, steamed crab and clams, sour soup with seafood, and Thai omelet (sorry, no pictures because we were too hungry). After we filled stomachs to the brim, we retired to sleep under mosquito nets on pads on the hardwood floor. It was not a 5-star place but it was authentic, which, to me, beats luxury on most days.
In the morning we woke up to the sun rising over the Gulf and a delicious breakfast of shrimp rice soup. Our guide came to pick us up with a full itinerary (also included in the price). He was there to give us an education on the village and what they are doing to promote ecotourism.
He took us to plant mangrove trees along the coastline, a project started by the villagers to help with erosion. They had also built sea walls to keep the entire village from being swallowed by the Gulf. Because they did not receive enough government help, they had to raise money from corporations and fundraisers to build them. The walls and the mangroves have been the most effective ways of slowing down land loss.
We also visited a Buddhist temple in the middle of the ocean and accessible only by a long bridge. It was once partly under water. Now it sits lonely on an island. People had to excavate it out of the muddy water after they built the sea wall. Evidence of water damage is in the peeled walls and raised wood plank floors.
Among the amazing sea life we saw were fiddler crabs and mudskippers, fishes that could glide around on their fins. As we looked out toward the Gulf, our guide pointed at the poles sticking up in places. “These were utility poles. During low tide, sometimes you can see roofs of homes, hospital, and school that are underwater,” he said.
After, he took us on a walk around the village (what’s left of it). There were a cute elementary school and wood homes nestled among mangrove trees. Along a part of the beautiful paths were plastic bags and bottles – trash from Bangkok washed downstream into this coastal village. I asked about recycling and trash collection. The guide replied sadly that no matter how often they picked up the trash there would be more. Being so close to a major city, it is a receptacle of things carried by the river. It has to start at the source.
After a delicious seafood lunch, we bid farewell to the wonderful people and friendly dogs. Ban Khun Samut Jeen is one of the most special places we have visited. It is a hidden gem that is both a cautionary tale and a hope. It has suffered at the hands of humans – by our reckless behaviors and series of bad decisions. If we can save it, then it would prove that what humans damage we can also fix. It is not too late.
To contact the Homestay, send a message through their Facebook page.
How did it feel to be in a country where ‘Communism’ is not a bad word? Not that different.
Vietnam first entered most Americans’ hearts and minds in the 60’s when the U.S. decided to participate in the struggle for Vietnam’s independence. Except we were on the wrong side – the side of our ally, the French, who for almost 60 years had ruled this gem of Southeast Asia as a colony.
Our reason: If Vietnam fell to Communism, the rest of Southeast Asia would follow. We were in the middle of the Cold War with Russia. Many of the SE Asia countries were young at self-governing and possibly impressionable. After all, China is right next door.
On the other side was Ho Chi Minh, an influential leader inspired by the teaching of Karl Marx and the Socialist Party of France. He led the Vietnamese revolution for independence. He was a key figure in establishing the Viet Mihn, the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, the People’s Army of Vietnam, and the Viet Cong. Ho Chi Minh had the North Vietnamese behind him. The south had a government backed by the U.S., which was not much better than an autocracy. I’m paraphrasing, but in short, the country plunged into a civil war.
Labels were thrown around: Democracy, Communism, Patriotism, Loyalty. Lines were drawn. Teams were picked. Each side branded the other as evil. Many, many lives were lost. Unification of the country came at a very high cost – many South Vietnamese, together with its army, were displaced from their homes.
So, what is this Communist country like in 2017? As I walked around Hanoi I could not help but think that it is not much different than Thailand: cafes and shops littering the sidewalks, cars, and motorbikes cluttering the streets, productive people hustling to work. There is a posh tree-lined street with a high-end mall selling European labels where a security guard made sure only those who belong were allowed in.
Free-market and the bourgeoisie systems are alive and well here, at least on a small scale. I am not an expert on how its government runs the country, but on the surface, the streets of Hanoi did not represent the scariness the word ‘Communism’ conjures in the West. In fact, Hanoi is charming. Lovable, even. And the food was magnificent.
We are lucky in California where the large Vietnamese community brought with it the wonderful tradition of cooking fresh, delicious South Vietnamese food. But until I ate Phở in Hanoi, I did not know that it is served differently in the north. Here, it has different sauces and topped with only with green onions instead of with a side of a giant plate of vegetables. Northern foods are milder than in the south, with some stand-out seafood dishes. And the coffee was so strong it made my hands shake.
What I miss the most about Hanoi:
Chả Cá, grilled fish with turmeric, dill, and green onions, at Chả Cá Thăng Long
Nộm Thịt Bò Khô, dried beef over green papaya salad, at Long Vi Dung
Barson all the windows at both our Airbnb apartments in the Old Quarter and the French Quarter
The padlocks they placed on gates and front doors at night. What if there’s a fire?
The rain (although it was an excuse to stop at a coffee shop)
Walking through the dark and dire Hao Lo Prison with its dungeon and guillotine
Crossing the streets where cars and motorbikes weave around you instead of stop
Hanoi is an easy place to visit, and probably almost as easy to live in. It has history and culture. It has shopping and food. All the conveniences of any city. That is if you enjoy its high energy fueled by coffee as dark as mud and as addictive as adrenaline.
Myanmar is an old country with a recorded history that goes back hundreds of years. Its culture is complex and its government policies intricate. I’ve read the news. I know about the military’s treatment of its people, reporters, and occasional tourists. I was worried. But there’s a way to do it safely and responsibly. Here’s what I did in 7 days.
About Myanmar
When I was growing up in Thailand, I learned about the long history of warfare between the Thais and Burmese. When I think of the Thai-Burmese relationship I see images of ransacked cities, gold melting off pagodas, and dead elephants and soldiers. But the reality is often more complicated.
Like America, Myanmar was a colony of England. From 1824 to 1948 it underwent wars with the British and became known as a province of British India. It finally gained independence after WWII and Japanese rule like several southeast Asian countries. Colonialism marred it, just like it did its many neighbors. Until recently, the country had been under one military regime after another, with much of its spending siphoned to the military at the cost of infrastructure. Based on UNICEF report in 2012-13 fiscal year, it has spent 29% of its entire budget for the defense forces, while the education sector received just 11%, the health sector 5.7%, and social welfare at 0.29%.
The 2015 election granted the overwhelming majority seats to the National League of Democracy. Since then, efforts have been made to reallocate its spending. Although evidence of its past decisions is apparent in potholed roads and homelessness.
Civil unrest and disputes between its people dominate Myanmar’s past and present. There are more than 135 ethnic groups in Myanmar, with 7 being the largest minority nationalities: The Chin, the Kachin, the Karenni (sometimes called Kayah), the Karen (sometimes called Kayin), the Mon, the Rakhine, and the Shan. Each group has their own language, culture, and history, making up Myanmar’s rich tapestry. Yet, not all tribes are recognized and not all the people who were born there its citizens.
So how does one navigate through this rich and beautiful land rife with conflict? Answer: With a combination of caution and thirst for experience, together with help from local guides. Hiring guides was not something we normally do. But we were glad we did. In doing so, we were able to cover a large section of the country and sample the many flavors this wonderful place has to offer. Click on the links to see the detailed travel log of each day.
A street food tour is a must for anyone visiting any country. Yangon is special for its architecture of dilapidated colonial buildings mixed in with modern skyscrapers. We walked around neighborhoods, ate authentic street food frequented by locals, and hung out in a park in the middle of the city. Afterward, we visited the Shwedagon Pagoda at night to experience the peaceful vibration at one of the most famous Buddhist sites in the world.
A bombing during WWII in 1943 destroyed Botataung temple. It was only rebuilt after Myanmar gained independence in 1948. A special place among Burmese, you can find worshippers pray wedged in various corners of the gilded temple. After, we took the ferry across the Yangon River to a fisherman’s village and a non-profit boarding school that educates children from ages 5-13 from all over Myanmar.
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 10,000 Buddhist temples, of which 3,122 remained. It is a must visit for admirers of history and Buddhism. Yangon to Bagan was also my first of many overnight bus rides in Myanmar.
Witnessing the beauty of the morning rays peeling open the cloak of darkness and bathing the valley with warm orange light, revealing red brick temple tops and its green surrounding, was the apex of my trip. Afterward, we drove a few hours to Mount Popa where we climbed up 777 steps to the top and watched a rainbow arch over the majestic landscape after heavy rainfall.
After another sleepless night in an overnight bus from Bagan in Mandalay State to Shan State, we drove to Pindaya Cave. The stalactite cave has 10,000 Buddha images climbing up its sides, with the oldest estimated to be from the 17th century.
Inle Lake was the most touristy spot we visited in Myanmar. But it is still worth a trip. We spent our day riding in a jewel-colored long-tail boat through the beautiful lake. We visited temples, monastery, and villages on stilts.
A graveyard of a thousand stupas surrounding a village called Shwe Indein. Check. A market where one can buy green tea leaves and wild turmeric from hill tribe’s women for a song. Check. Another beautiful ride along Inle Lake. Check.
Our trip to Myanmar has been unforgettable. The people are kind, the food delicious, and the bus rides hellish. There is still an innocence to the country which I suspect may change as it becomes more touristy. The people smile openly and are generous with stories. Regardless of the politics of this country, I was reminded that people and government do not always share an ideology. Each person just wants to live their life peacefully and hold their loved ones close to their heart.
Myanmar, may you never lose the best parts of yourself.
