leffjuong-blog

[leffjuong-blog]

Unexpected Turbulence

This leg of the trip was going to be my first actual solo part of the trip. One with no friends and almost zero ability for myself to speak the local tongue. That is...until my parents decided to take a vacation to Vietnam around the same time and end just a few miles away from where I was going to stay. 

In Da Nang I tried getting through customs and things immediately went wrong. When I presented my E-Visa as a PDF on my phone the guy checking it immediately grabbed it from my hands and started walking back to where security was. Reluctantly following him I approached the group and they asked if I spoke Vietnamese but I just shook my head. You couldn’t convey a stronger look of apathy that these guys did once they found out I don’t speak Vietnamese.  I got the phone back and zoomed in on the E-Visa to a dude who appeared to be in charge came and but he just took my phone out of my hands again, this time rather forcefully. 

Aw crap. 

At this point I saw a few options playing out:

1) These guys take my phone, deny I ever had a Visa, and bribe me to get it back. 

2) They install some shit on my phone a la Mr.Robot and hack it for some unknown reason watching my every move.

3) I chill the fuck out and just let them do whatever it is they’re doing behind closed doors because I have a legit visa... right?

“Be careful in Vietnam, people are out to steal your money, rob you, and take advantage of you. It’s dangerous and you should not be travelling alone there.” 

The advice from my parents echoed endlessly in my head making option chill-the-fuck-out a bit harder to maintain as these guys pretty much didn’t seem to give a shit if I made it through or not. I check my clock and saw that 10 minutes went by. Then another 5. Then another 10. 

A man slowly opens the door from the mysterious room of potential-fuck-your-trip-up and hands me back my phone along with a printed version of my E-Visa. 

At this point I was doing my best to hold the literal brick in my pants and calmly walked back into the queue, this time making it through.

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Now that my traumatic entry into Vietnam was over I can talk about the awesome stuff I got to experience. The city of Da Nang seemed very much like a hollowed out version of Ho Chi Minh City. Vast swathes of land between buildings housed skeletons of the future hotels that would soon entice more tourists solidifying Da Nang as THE resort town. On the beach I was literally one of just a handful of people lounging about and it was awesome. I was lucky to have the ‘private beach’ experience in such a beautiful place.

A seat under one of these umbrellas as 40,000 Dong which is just shy of $2 US.

The beach view reminded be a bit of the shores back in Rio De Janeiro. Except it lacked polluted waters, mass amount of foot traffic, and persistent salesmen slinging caiparinhas in your face (OK the last part makes 100% sense but they actually sell them at almost every bar here). My trip to Vietnam was meant to be 100% relaxation and recovery and if you look at the picture above I had all the space and time to do it.

Life is good, drinks are cheap, and although there’s not much to see in terms of eye candy I finally had the time to chill on my own terms. I hit the recliner on the chair and lean back with Mai Tai in one hand. As my head hits the cushion the table begins to vibrate. Who the heck is calling?

“Hello Jep? This is Dad. Where you at now boy?”

Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. They’re super sweet and baby the crap out of me more times than I’d like to admit. But when you travel solo... well, you want it to be solo. You want to get lost a little. Find your way, make friends with locals, and potentially get detained at the airport because of VISA problems. Fearing for their eldest child’s safety they wanted to be within cab rides distance of me wherever I went and I had to keep reminding them that I took this trip to be on my own. It was then that I had a jarring thought.  Damn I’m being a shit son. How often am I really going to be able to take a trip with them anywhere during my life. They came out all this way to make sure I was OK and here I was attempting to avoid them like the plague. Letting my ego slide back for a bit I re-envisioned this as a trip to spend some quality time with Mom and Pop. 

On the last day in Da Nang I actually had a great talk with my dad. I brought up an idea I had with finding a way to make a business or foundation that can somehow help the people here. He argued vehemently that this was a terrible idea and that he absolutely did not approve. Fighting back I said that this was something very possible in this day and age. If I believe in the purpose there was a way. Prodding his reasoning in the argument he eventually told me he was scared shitless that I might literally get killed. The desperation in his voice caught my attention and it was then that I noticed how wide his eyes were. He was genuinely concerned that interfering in these sorts of things would lead to me disappearing. 

My dad lived during the days of the Vietnam war. He lost a brother, smuggled his family onto a overcrowded boat full of refugees, was raided by pirates, stranded on an island, and eventually rescued by a Mormons that adopted his entire family into their home in Salt Lake City. He relayed to me the fear he experienced during that time and even though he left out a lot of details it was obvious that he still carries these demons with him. 

I explained to him that those days were over. We live in a society now where technology has a greater reach and impact that has the ability to transcend governments. Never before could you do so much from the palm of your hands. In a show of bravado I explained to him how I have always been able to accomplish the things I felt passionately about. Becoming my city’s ambassador to Japan, raising a fraternity from the ground up into the top chapter within 3 years, and completely flipping my career 180 degrees from healthcare into tech, my voice was literally shaking from my own personal pride in these accomplishments. 

Dad definitely took notice. He said he was proud to know that I feel that way when I put my heart into things and that it made him think that he did one thing right to have raised a son with that level of conviction. The trembling breaths settled and the twitching in my hands evaporated. For the first time in my life I was finally able to really connect with my Dad.This was huge for me. 

Learning 4 languages in a broken fashion growing up we were never able to fully express our feelings to each other. Between the broken English-Village dialect and occasional Mandarin was a void where words fell short of their intended targets. Growing up I wanted to close that gap. But cultural differences and life as a first generation Asian American wedged more obstacles in between. I let this slip and forgot why I even wanted it in the first place. 

Interestingly enough, all it needed was two banh mi, a coconut, and 30 minutes with my Dad on a random street in the Vietnam. 

We flew out of Da Nang hours later. Leaving the city I realized I gave up some of the rest and relaxation I wanted but knew that I was coming back with something I didn’t think I’d be able to feel. I found the bridge over my gap and I’ll never lose sight of it again. 

[leffjuong-blog]

A City of Aesthetic Design

Dense populations and limited land often ruins city skylines by turning them into atrociously crowded blocks of metal and glass. Shots of San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego are usually taken from the outside in, away from the ground level. Zoom in and you might run into walls of buildings that eclipse the horizon or overly crowded structures that take away any reason to took upwards. Things are different in Singapore. With each corner I turned there was almost always a beautiful structure or art piece to admire. The skyscrapers themselves each seem to carry their own unique style and character that transforms the city feel into a giant architect’s museum.   

Day

On the ground level the variety of building types within each block have their own distinct characters. Religious temples representative of the diverse population could easily be found just around the corner.  

Hindu Temple just 7 minutes walking distance from the shots above.

Despite a very concentrated density of people, I have yet to feel like I was packed like a sardine when travelling around at most hours of the day (Rush hour will always be rush hour).

To put things in perspective, Singapore has a population of 5.6 million people over 719km while San Francisco has 864,000 over 121km which is ~7788 and ~7140 people per km. Though Singapore is has ~600 more people per km there is a sense of personal space I could never grasp in SF. What’s even crazier is that during the nights, parts of the town almost seem eerily desolate. I biked back after hitting the bars at 3AM and we ran into a grand total of 12 cars and 8 people over 3 km. 

It could be that I’m a tourist. In fact that’s probably the most likely case...  I acknowledge that I am very much in vacation mode so my perspective is certainly one of the rose colored tint.

But something about this city makes the whole concept of  urban environments feel like it was done to lessen that crowded city feel. 

Going through my current set of photos I don’t think I can do it justice with words but these shots may give you an idea of what I’m talking about. You just have to see it for yourself. 

[leffjuong-blog]

Something like home.... 8778 miles away

Travelling to Southeast Asia my general expectations of how I’d feel could be summed up in a few words: out of place. Yeah there’s Asian people everywhere and I can generally understand the language but after eating just a few meals and walking around the city I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this was naturally my home. 

70% of the meals I’ve had remind me of either my mom or my grandma’s cooking. This chicken curry dish that I never found in the US I had that tasted EXACTLY like what my grandma made as I grew up. 

The taste was unreal. Even the way they cut the potatoes was just like how Gma does it.

I didn’t sign up for these flashbacks to my childhood but it was a nice side dish for the kid inside. The people spoke Mandarin and Cantonese to me as if I fit in with the local population with the same accents and tones I hear from my own family. Shit, even the humidity which I dreaded dealing with became a gentle hug. That’s right. I almost like it. Close friends know how much I sweat and how much I hate it. I am actually embracing the suffocation this time though I nearly died after 3 games of outdoor basketball. (Pretty sure I lost 5 lbs in 2 hours.)

To backtrack my parents are of Chinese and Vietnamese descent but spent almost all of their lives living in Vietnam. Up until now I’ve personally identified as Chinese/Vietnamese and never even imagined that my family background may have roots further East. I never dug into my ancestral past. Frankly it just wasn’t that important. I’m Asian American, end of story. But now there’s this strange mystery of where my distant relatives were and what they went through.

It’s only been a few days but I feel like I could call this place home.

[leffjuong-blog]

30 days of winging it

I did it. I took one whole month off work and I get to keep my job.

What began as a life resolution is now the real deal. Typing away at the crack of dawn I have no idea what or how I am going to document this journey. To be frank I’m still not 100% sure what the purpose is. Why did I do it? The first things that come to mind are the thousands of times I’ve heard “Travel when you’re young”. This seed of wisdom is continuously given by those older than us. I usually think “Huh… I should probably do that. I’ll get to it eventually.”  

Reading through The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho I realized that this mode of thinking was toxic when it came to living your life… yet everyone succumbs to it one way or another.

“Everyone believes the world’s greatest lie…“ says the mysterious old man. "What is the world’s greatest lie?” the little boy asks. The old man replies, “It’s this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That’s the world’s greatest lie.” 

During a weekend bender with some good friends a buddy of mines picked up the book and continually asked me: “Jeff, what is your personal legend?”

This seemingly innocuous question kicked me in the spiritual nuts.

What does my life story look like? Would the chapters be worth reading over? Where can I turn the “I should haves” to “I did”? 

At this point I had already planned my trip but the purpose and intent became more clear. 

I am doing this for me. I am my life’s purpose.