Moving to Saigon

Dearest readers,

If you are reading this blog post, you probably already know that I've up and moved to Vietnam. I wouldn't be surprised if, because I've talked so incessantly about the upcoming move the last few months, you have wished me away much sooner. But alas, I've only just arrived, and while you might be free of my hallway conversations, I will now blast you with social media notifications....get ready.

I traveled to Saigon in a rather roundabout way, stopping first in Edinburgh, where I stayed for 1 week trying to fix a particularly troublesome piece of equipment. I (mostly) fixed it, and here are some obligatory Scotland pictures to prove I was there.

 Above: Countryside adventures feat. Mr. Phil the Slug

Above: Edinburgh city center adventures

Above: Royal Botanical Gardens, Edinburgh

I then traveled on to Saigon - also known as Ho Chi Minh City, but that takes too long to write - and arrived at my long-term hotel sweaty and exhausted, which I'm sure raised some internal eyebrows among the staff. My apartment for the next 6 months is far too fancy for the likes of me, but I am determined to learn the ways of the 1% and fit in by the time I leave.

Above: My very fancy Saigon apartment

My first day consisted of sleeping off my jetlag and trying desperately to figure out the washing machine. Thankfully it was idiot-proof enough even for me, and even includes a built-in dryer (a luxury in this country of window-hanging washing). I also ventured out to the local market and bought lots of necessities, like toilet paper and soap, and promptly discovered that my hotel cleans my room and restocks these items every day.  I'm anticipating these next 6 months to be the laziest of my life.

After a few days of work came the weekend - and what a weekend! I overscheduled myself per usual, but the early mornings were worth it. First came a local market tour and cooking class. We made fresh spring rolls - mine were a bit lumpy, but very tasty - and bun cha, which is one of the countless delicious Vietnamese noodle dishes. This particular variety features pork meatballs and tons of fresh herbs. My classmates included a lovely British couple - one of whom loved Boston so much he got a tattoo of the city after just one visit!  I think I found my spirit animal - and massive group of Koreans. The Koreans filmed an episode for Korean TV during our class which featured, among other things, my terrible hair day. Hopefully they edit me out, but after my experience in Japan that's unlikely.

Above: Vietnamese cooking class feat. Boston-loving Brit, Korean filming crew, and a master chef [obviously me]

I left the class and immediately returned to the market, buying the Vietnamese necessities (fish sauce, soy sauce, white vinegar, oil, rice) and putting together the requirements for my first at-home attempt: grilled lemongrass chicken. Although I lack a grill, it turned out surprisingly tasty. My kitchen, however, did not fare so well: it still smells strongly of oil, which I am currently trying to mask by boiling the extra lemongrass. No word yet on its success.

Above: My Vietnamese cooking attempts at home

After hitting the gym (I habit I promised myself I'd restart during my time here), I headed to a local expat meet-and-greet. Small talk has never been my strong suit, but I've already made dinner plans with one of the attendees - my first local friend! I'll try not to overwhelm her :)

Today's adventure consisted of a tour through the Mekong Delta, or as it's known locally, the Nine Dragons Delta, as the river splits into 9 major waterways. I rode on the back of a vintage-style Vespa; I'm fairly sure I leaned the wrong way into all the turns, but my driver didn't kick me off, so I'm counting it a win.

Above: Mekong Delta

Our first stop was at a local market, where we toured through, saw tons of wriggling fish, vegetables, and would-be escapee frogs, and stopped for Vietnamese "junk food." This consisted of steamed shrimp, clams, scallops, and fruit - a far cry from the American Doritos, candy, and soda! No wonder obesity has not yet struck Vietnam.

Above: Local food market and Vietnamese "junk food"

We also stopped in a local sticky rice wine maker and saw the distilling process. We tasted two varieties: traditional sticky rice wine (think rubbing alcohol), and red rice wine (think delicious fruit juice).

Above: Distillation process, burning sticky rice wine (clear), and delicious sticky rice wine (purple), feat. kitty cat duo

We continued past countless rice paddies, dusty roads, and enthusiastic children to visit a Cao Dai temple. Cao Dai is a new religion unique to Vietnam, started in 1926, and is intended to blend 6 major religions: Buddhism, Hinduism, Catholicism, Islam, Daoism, and Confucianism. The founders included a woman, and so this is one of the only religions to allow women to be "professors" (priests).

Above: Cao Dai temple. The "stone" tiles are a fun touch.

We ended with lunch and rather sore bottoms, but I'm so glad I left the big city to see how the average Vietnamese person lives.

The Wanderer's Return

The day I never thought would arrive is finally here: I, Lauren, have returned home.  I flew in on a Tuesday night, and will start work next Monday, which gives me a few much-needed days to settle in and prepare for my return to work. It's a bit surreal: it seems like nothing changed since I flew out. Boston is still freezing, though thankfully I missed the worst of the snowstorms; my friends and family faithfully rotate in their daily spheres; the Starbucks from which I write still serves bitter black coffee.

I'll skip the melodrama and not pretend that "everything has changed" for me, because it hasn't. I'm the same person, with a few new experiences under my belt - it's just odd to return after a whirlwind tour halfway across the world to find that Boston has remained beautifully unchanged. I've learned a lot these last two months, about myself and the world around me; because I am an engineer and fond of organizing, I shall put them in bullet points for my own sanity.

- Just because someone is from ten thousand miles away doesn't mean I can't relate to them. This should seem obvious, but I think I departed with the expectation that things would be so different, that everything would be foreign to me. In some sense, that was true - the trappings of the places were different (language, dress, culture, scenery, socioeconomic class), but people are people no matter where you go. Everyone has a story, from an AirBnB hostess who wept in front of us about her son tragically killed in a car accident, to new friends who still searched for their vocational passion and worried about their future. There's a lot that separates me from those I met, but a smile and a kind word go a long way.

- English isn't necessary. This wasn't too much of a surprise, as I've traveled to places with limited English before, but generally I can make out some words with my knowledge of Spanish and German. I didn't understand a darned thing anywhere I went, but gestures, Google Translate, and calculators for numbers were my saving grace.

- I think I could live in Asia someday.  A few years ago, my goal was to spend part of my life in Western Europe, but after spending time in Asia, I've expanded that list of future long-term home bases to include Singapore, Hong Kong, Korea, and Japan. (I'd live anywhere now, but when I become a real grown-up and have kids, the list necessarily needs to narrow.)

- I like to plan....a little too much!  I kind of exhausted myself; I planned things for every single day of my trip, and I could have used a day or two "off" to recharge in the middle. Next time I have a long trip, I'd like to travel with only a general idea of where I'm going, so I can be flexible and stay in places I like longer and hurry through places I don't love.

- Being a cheap person in general does not mean you will stay within your budget automatically...oops

- I have too many clothes and shoes. I survived on 3 pairs of shoes, 3 pairs of pants,  1 pair of shorts, 6 shirts, 1 skirt, and 2 dresses for 2 months. The size of my wardrobe practically paralyzed me this morning while dressing-- and this is after having sent 4 trash bags full of clothes to Goodwill.

-I never want to stop traveling. New goal: visit all 6 continents before I turn 30 (yes, yes, I know there's 7, but I don't have any particular desire to visit Antarctica - Boston in January is an adequate substitute). I have 4.3 years left!


Without further ado, I'll sign off....until the next adventure :-)

A Monk's Life

While Kate stayed in Kyoto another day (primarily, let's be honest, to spend all day in the International Manga Museum without m trading her incessantly), I headed to Mount Koya, also known as Koyasan (the town). Koyasan is a mountain in central Japan that i home to hundreds of temples, some of which offer lodging, monk-style, known as shukubo. Guests stay in the temple grounds, are given monk food (vegetarian, lots of mushrooms), and use facilities that monks typically use - a floor mat bed, traditional pajamas, etc - and can participate in the religious ceremony in the morning. This sounded like just the sort of experience I love, so I signed up for one night.

Turns out getting to Koyasan was a little bit harder than I bargained for. One-way took me five hours the way there, three and a half the way back. (Let's not talk about what happened the way there.)  After one subway ride, three train rides, a cable car jaunt, and some bus time, I finally arrived at my destination: Jimyo-in, a temple on the main street in town.  Koyasan is a very small town, with the main street no more than a few miles long, traversing the entire length of the town. On one end stands a famous old cemetery, "The Angkor Wat of Japan," as one monk described it. It's full of the tombs of ancient feudal lords, monks, and others noteworthy enough to gain a spot. The most famous resident is Kobo Daishi, who in 835AD was forced to commit suicide according to placards at the site, but died of an illness according to the internet.  No comment from me as to which is truer. Near his mausoleum he's a house of lanterns, which holds lanterns donated by thousands of people. Of the scores of lanterns, three remain continuously burning since they were donated: a lantern donated by a poor woman in 1016, who sold her hair to buy the lantern in memory of her deceased parents; a lantern donated by an emperor in 1033; and one donated by Emperor Showa in 1948.  Those dates are incredible--the woman's lantern has been burning  continuously for over 1,000 years!

Below: cemetery pictures

After wandering the cemetery, I returned to the temple and immediately (and accidentally) stomped all over the carefully raked stones and wore my shoes into the entryway (apparently, you take them off while still outside). The monks sighed, but with their ever-forgiving spirits, or perhaps for their own penance, have me the nicest room in the place. I had the most beautiful view of the garden, normally a luxury I would have to pay double for. The room has the most lovely view of the gardens, and a magical low table with a heater underneath and a comforter on top, so you'd stick your legs under the table for beautiful warmth while your fingers turned numb. Other than that, furniture was very limited, except for (I was disappointed to note) a TV. Who watches TV at a temple?

Below: monk life

Anyway, dinner was served to me alone in my room, as was traditional, and consisted mainly of cold mushroom dishes, tofu, and cold vegetables. It wasn't the best food I've ever had, but if monks could do it, so could I. Just as I was contemplating how to sleep in the hard, bamboo-mat floor, my server brought in soft thick pass to serve as a mattress, a warm comforter, and a straw pillow. The pillow was not in fact made of straw, but of short plastic hollow cylinders, and was surprisingly comfortable. Breakfast was much the same, and the religious ceremonial of incense and chanting. I think I was supposed to sit on my feet the whole time, but my feet kept falling asleep so I switched every few monutes, hoping to avoid monk glares (I heard they can be lethal). The most surprising aspect was how much time I spent alone; I'm not used to thay,but it was a good chance for me to reflect on where I've been these past two months, and cement my memories.

Below: sad monk food, monk pajamas, and padded bed

After my sad monk breakfast, I left town to rejoin Kate and travel to Hiroshima, where we'd stay one night. It wasn't a long visit, but we wanted to see the famous floating Torii (gate) and see the Peace Park, where the A-Bomb dome lies. The floating gate was first - it required a bit of a journey to the seaside, but it was worth it. Plus we saw more tiny deer and lots of little crabbies in the mud! Alas, the gates don't look floating in my pictures since high tide is morning and night, and we could only manage an afternoon visit, but they were majestic nonetheless.

Below: Torii gates and baby hermit crabs

The next day came for Peace Park. There were many sculptures to the victims of the atom bomb, but the most sombering sight was definitely the A-bomb dome itself. This building is one of few to even partially survive the attack, which obliterated almost the entire city. It's a haunting reminder of the destructive power of nuclear weapons and war.  Over 140,000 people died in the Hiroshima attack, 70,000 instantaneously, and the rest later as a result of radiation exposure. After Japan rebuilt Hiroshima, they declared it a city of peace.

Below: Hiroshima, plus A -bomb dome before and after, paper cranes for the dead

Afterwards, Kate and I wandered Hiroshima downtown a bit before stopping at a sushi place for our final lunch in Japan. That afternoon we took a bullet train back to Tokyo,and the next morning I left for my flight home!