28 Ways Travelers are All the Same
Being the first tourists ever to find ourselves hilarious, JD and I spend a good deal of our time in Siem Reap cracking each other up.
Angkor.
What?
Angkor Wat.
Angkor WHAT?
Wat.
In retrospect (and now that the beers have worn off) I pause to appreciate how un-originial we are…all of us travelers.
To travel is to widen the mind, to open the window of thought, to dive into the sea of knowledge.
If only.
Things I Love and Hate about Vietnam
Living in Vietnam as an expat is like being in a dysfunctional relationship. Just as you snuggle up to its sunny charm, it cuts the power, lets the rats run loose and throws in a typhoon to boot. But when you’ve finally had enough and are set to leave with the kids, it begs you to stay with lovely days at the beach and unexpected flowers from neighbors. My love/ hate relationship with my temporary home leaves me frustrated and happy. And also confused. I can’t figure out why the things I hate about Vietnam are the same things I love.
Here are a few.
Every Night is Biker Night
Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes: Keeping Up with Covering Up
In Vietnam, shoulders are not for ladies. In Cambodia, knees must be covered to enter the temples. In Malaysia it’s the head that offends in mosques. And in Singapore, closed-toe shoes signify you’re one to be taken seriously. Ladies, am I the only one confused by what parts to keep under wraps?
The Biggest Storm in the World: Typhoon Nari Through Third Graders’ Eyes
Last week Typhoon Nari came to Danang. JD and I were lucky and suffered little more than some lost plants. Even still, it was a proper scary night that involved me sleeping in my scooter helmet. I wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Here to tell you what a typhoon is really like in their own, unedited words, are my third grade students.
That day I was so scary. I don’t like storm. My house dore is broke. It is heavy. I can’t hold it. I’m very scary. My house got water in it. The wind was so big. My house broke.
Books and Maps
Nerds are wonderful.
After years of trying to pretend to be cooler than I am, I have come to love my own nerd-ity. It might just be that I like books more than cheerleading and buy more maps than cute shoes. I often don’t brush my hair thoroughly and lack coordination in all forms. I’m bad at sports, worse at driving and often a miss at witty conversation. Maybe that’s why Travel and I get along so well.
The Undignified Demise of a Rummed-Up Slunky
Actually the place wasn’t even called Slunky – that says Slinky now that we’re all sober
Yes, Virginia, there is a Slunky.
Although Thailand was not where I expected we’d meet.
Thailand has always held that wonderful aura of Exotic for me. It’s got the dense jungle, mysterious temples and edible bugs to intrigue me. However on my recent trip there I discovered I am not the only one to whom Thailand beckons.
Nope, turns out I am just a sheep in the herd.
Losing my Residency
Today I am a little less – fake – South African. As of last week I am no longer a legal resident of the Rainbow Nation. If I go back now I will have to queue up at immigration with all the – ugh – tourists; without any distinction, any recognition or any applause for having already established a relationship with the bergs, straands and chesters that lie beyond the customs desk. My ninety day visitor stamp will belie the fact that I am more in tune with this place than those other schmucks coming to look at elephants.
For the last ten months I’ve felt like nothing short of a traveling badass with my sweet combination of American citizenship, Vietnamese residency and South African residency. I am a walking conversation starter. But according to the visa in my passport, South Africa has decided it’s time for me to be demoted. That’s right: I’ve just been dumped, and by an entire country, no less.
8 Months In
No scooter yet lies beneath me, but I am suddenly aware of becoming just a little bit Vietnamese. After 8 months here in Da Nang, Vietnam, the previously weird begins to morph into the vaguely familiar. Although Home with a capital H remains Michigan, little guy h home has become right here. The view off my balcony – of five karaoke bars, two lit up neon bridges and the newest Dragon Bridge that really, actually breathes fire – is somewhat normal. I’m comfortable packing my own toilet paper anywhere I go and don’t ever consider drinking water from the tap, even when I’m thirsty and half asleep. Chopstick by chopstick, I’m adapting.
Ain’t Nothing Wrong With Nothing
And hella then what?
Suddenly you’re more tired than rested and you’ve missed your favorite show for the last half season, lost your spot in that book you were reading and haven’t bothered to blog or tweet or facebook, email, pinterest, text or do any noun that we now consider to be a verb. But turns out you don’t give a what. Sorry, Imaginary Audience and Facebook Newsfeed. I’ve been too busy out there living life to remember to document it with copious blurred photos and drunkenly insightful posts. And, sorry to say, but don’t look like nothing’s bout to change no time soon. The world is calling and this computer screen can only hold me just so long before I succumb to sun and sky and scooterly life.
So off I trot…
Happy Togetho
It’s great to be happy.
In the six week hiatus since the last post I have jetted off to America, had an incredible three weeks with my family, struggled through a round of goodbyes that was no less than devastating, and emerged on the other side with one great, big, silly grin. Why? Because the day after I arrived back in Vietnam a present landed on my doorstep…JD.
beyonddisneytraveltips 