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blog #8

Over the course of my one-week break, I've doused myself in half of Netflix’s movies. But only one caught my eye – me before you. Other than that, a handful of Instagram scrolling and binge eating. I came across this post which had me thinking about my life. 

“Make sure you don’t allow your fear to hold you back. Instead, look at your fear in the face and invite it to dinner, become its best friend. Live alongside it, let it make you feel alive. Choose impossibility. Choose the risk. Choose to make mistakes and to make memories. Make things up as you go. Life is infinite and fragile, and it vanishes too quickly so make it worthwhile.”

And that’s exactly what I did. For the first time ever, I smacked a cockroach.

The ritual was, whenever I saw a cockroach, I would result in a high-pitch yelp. Running to my parents' room, I’d ask them to hit the cockroach for me. All the other times, they’ve agreed. However, this time, she replied with a blunt: “learn to do it yourself.”  

It may sound like an average day for a typical Asian, but not for someone who can’t be within 1 meter of a cockroach without screaming for her dear life. With that being said, I faced my biggest fear, which is to approach the sickening flying insect with my Ben Thanh slippers tightly mounted in the palm of my hand.  

Its wings twitched, in sync with my current rapidly beating heart. My head told me to back away, but my animalistic instincts wanted to smack the fuck out of that cockroach for stepping into my territory. My room, my rules.

On the very same day, the bond between me and my slippers broke apart– as I swore to never wear the same pair of slippers again. I definitely did not want some cockroach ghost haunting me.

You may be wondering, what does me smacking a cockroach have to do with being able to live my life fully without fear?

Living on the 18th floor wasn’t a coincidence. My thirteen-year-old-self calculated that if I lived high up, no insects could reach me. Emphasizing THIRTEEN. 

Now that I think back, it made sense when I was younger. Now knowing that cockroaches do no only crawl on flat surfaces, I want to mentally slap myself. We’ve had a significantly a smaller number of mosquitos, but not cockroaches. How the fuck do they even crawl up here?

Not only have cockroaches restricted my living space, but there are also some things I cannot do such as a shower in my own bathroom as a cockroach is peacefully chilling nearby my sink.  

As for me slapping that cockroach, I have asserted a new level of dominance. The cockroach has always mocked me, as being so big, yet I fear such a tiny creature. Not anymore. This shed of blood marks a new beginning for me and the cockroaches. I am not one to mess with. That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

Picture from Tumblr.

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Blog #7

Today marks the beginning of the third month out of the twelve, another month closer to the date of my departure from this country. Setting off to college used to be an idea that I couldn’t keep in my excitement about. The exhilarating thought of living an independent life as an adult, coming home when you want without having the constant nagging from my worrying parents. Or experiencing the feeling of stocking up your fridge for the week for the first time. The first shopping cart you pull out from the department store as you get ready to dive into shelves of room décor. The wheels rustling against the asphalt floor of the parking lot as you make your way inside. Or the change to living in dorms with a complete stranger only for them to become your best friend for the next four years. Basically, just being able to do your own thing because you finally can, you’re finally old enough to make your own decisions.  

My imagination had no limits; I believed I could have the best college experience ever through what I’ve heard, and binge watched over the span of my teenage years. Sororities and fraternities, bringing muffins to study groups in the library and having the undying privilege of sleeping in wooden bunk beds. That ladder was made for me to climb on it!

The concept of college seemed very appealing until reality hit me, and boy did it hit me really hard. Applying to schools was way harder than I thought - choosing a college was difficult, especially when everyone wants to be an Ivy League student. But if Elle Woods from Legally Blond could get into Harvard Law School with the initial motivation of getting back with her ex-boyfriend and months of cramming her way with zero analytical ability whatsoever, I could easily get into a college too (not to mention her and 179 out of 180 on her LSATS).

My prior view on what college is like was so unrealistic that when the time came to start your college-applying journey, I was completely lost. I felt like I got hit in the face, really fucking hard. Completing my College Board was a pain in the ass. Simultaneously, I had to sign up for all the test required by the University before applying, including SAT, IELTS, expensive health tests and checking my passport validity.  

Hence, here’s a more accurate description of college (or what I’ve compiled through videos of “a day in the life of college” on YouTube, speak with college represents and previous alumni's): canned food, the microwave being your best friend, and a shit ton of reading to do. On top of that, you had to buy your own textbooks, pay the rent and leave the room significantly earlier to make it in class on time because your class happens to be a fifteen-minute walk from your dorm.

Positively, absolutely and unquestionably not how I pictured living abroad would be like. But I guess sometimes you must go through the storm to get to the rainbow. And of course, I couldn’t really blame my fourteen years old self for wanting to leave the house and hang out all day.  

Emotionally poignant about not being able to attend frat parties like the movies (Seth Rogan would have been a cool partner), but Ms. Karen is one-hundred times cooler for repeatedly dragging my lazy ass out of study hall to check my progress. Other thanks to the countless college applying services in Vietnam which helps guide you through the applying process (with a fee, duh). Both act as the hard-stepping stone to the path of my successful future, without them, I'd still be typing “Top 10 universities in Australia” on Google and letting sketchy websites like topuniversities.com determine my G R E A T future.

“No one is destined for greatness. Everyone is destined to express the greatness that already exists from within.” - Aunna Pourang

Image from 9GAG.

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Blog 6

As February 5th falls on the calendar, indicating the first day of Tet, it was also the first day of my social media detox. Being part of an extremely religious and superstitious family, praying wasn’t an option during New Years - which resulted in our short flight to Con Dao. Hands down one of my best yet cheapest trip ever.

Upon arrival, we traveled up to the mountains to Van Son Pagoda. It was on top of a hill with the view of the ocean and the whole town, along with an array of mountains. Climbing the steps up was a struggle, but we made it. For the first time, I wasn’t staying in a hotel but with my aunt in her tiny leaf hut inside a tiny village below the temple. So for the next week and a half, my daily routine was no different from the locals that lived there. I protested against this as the thought of living on the side of a mountain did not sound like the ideal living space (unless you are Ms. Sara and Mr. Nick).

Side note: if you ever feel like you want to live in the middle of nowhere for a few days, I’ll personally have my aunt list her DIY leaf hut on Airbnb just for you. 

We woke up at 5 in the morning, which allowed us to see the beautiful sunset that I never got to experience in the city (or maybe it was because I was too busy with my phone to realize). The locals planted their own crops, so every time before eating, we would take a basket and go pick out the vegetables for cooking. Everyone was mostly vegan there which meant we had to become vegan for the next ten days (which was no problem for me). The garden was huge and had almost every vegetable you could think of. From coconut trees to salad, everyone there contributed to the growth of the garden. Actually it was just a large piece of land and four sticks in the corner to act as the fence but nonetheless still did the job. It was nice to see their act of selflessness.

Before breakfast, we would hike up to the top of the mountain with local monks and prayed - to give thanks for a new day and to find peace and strength through breathing exercises.

When breakfast finished, we would sit and listen to the monk as he shared a series of life lessons and taught us the teachings of Buddha in figuring out how to truly find happiness through wisdom. He taught us the theory of Karma and why we should always aim to live as a good person.

Throughout the trip, I learned many things that I never got the chance to realize before. Not having my phone being the barrier to my learning and growth allowed me to focus on more important things, something as simple as the way the leaves moved or the shade of green the plants were. In the monk’s stories, they all had a moral lesson which allowed me to understand why things happen the way they do and why many people experience suffering before finding happiness. To recognize how privileged I am to be able to live in a proper house whilst the locals built their own from big branches of dried up leaves. But not because they are poor, but some made the choice to leave their hectic life behind to have a simpler and minimalistic life here. When it rained, we had to get baskets to put where it would leak through the leaves. To be exposed to an environment where everyone shared the same garden loved each other and approached life with kindness made me question and reflect on myself. Was I being the best person I could be?

To be surrounded with so much positivity and waking up in the morning, not having to check my phone, felt like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t even remember what Instagram was. I wasn’t comparing my life to what other people had posted, what they ate or where they traveled. Not having that content in front of me allowed me to focus on my own life, for once.

A negative: I came back twenty shades darker and a shit ton of mosquito bite. Lesson learned. Definitely bringing my own mosquito net without holes in them. Or an electric mosquito racket and introduce some of them to some mad cool technology. LOL.

Electric Rechargeable Mosquito, Fly Killer, and Bug Zapper Racket, 3000 Voltage, sold on eBay for $15.99 (360vnd) but easily bought for only 80k on the side of the street. I love Vietnam.

Picture: agoda.com

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Blog 5

Week without walls was an unforgettable experience (both negatively and positively) and I have learned a handful number of things though only in the span of a week's time. To be honest, I didn’t really expect to learn as much as I did from the trip, which only made my experience that much more exhilarating.  

On our first day, we traveled forty minutes to a Christian nursing home for elderly women in district 5. Also, another additional fifteen minutes because our driver got lost halfway, so we ended up at the wrong nursing home — meaning a total of fifty-five minutes of hearing Mr. Nick Mason whining about how much he wanted a banh mi. The place was called “Nhà dưỡng lão tình thương Vinh Sơn” and was built in 1995.

Before walking into their living area, we were introduced about their reasons for being here and their daily routine.

[6:00am] Caretakers come in to wake everyone up (although many grandmas that I’ve talked with wake up as early as 4 in the morning)

[8:00am] After they finish washing, they have breakfast. Usually, porridge since most don’t have teeth to chew.

[8:00am-12:00pm] Technically like free time for everyone. Most caretakers push the elder’s outside to get some sunlight for the extra vitamin. Some decide to stay inside and continue to nap.  

[12:00pm] This is generally when lunch is served. A wet towel is hung on the side of the bed allowing them to wipe after finishing their lunch. Some are still very well and capable of eating by themselves, however, some aren’t so privileged. Despite that, I got the opportunity to feed a lady who was 96 years old and she finished the bowl in no time.  

At first, it was hard to open to everyone because I'm very shy, but they were surprisingly open with us. While I was walking, one grandma even attempted to smack my bum!  

A lot of them were caressing us and holding our hand which makes me sad knowing they can still possess so much positivity though being in a hard situation.  Most people who live here have families but not enough finances to take care of them, or they have nobody left or worst case it’s because their families don’t want to take care of them anymore. It’s quite depressing to have a family member that has experienced and seen so many things in their lifetime only to not be able to tell their story.  

My goal was trying to hear as many stories as I can from them. There isn’t a word I can use to describe how I felt when hearing their life. One lady who was close to a hundred years old could remember a few French words as she was alive during the French revolution in 1945 when she was in her mid-twenties. Another could speak some English because of the Vietnam and United States war from 1945 to 1975.

Subsequently, a conversation that stood out the most for me was about one grandma telling me about how lonely it gets here late at night. With her grandchildren visiting her every six months due to their education in Dalat, she’s always talking about how she’s sacrificing to be here so her grandchildren could go to school (as living in nursing homes were free).

She reminded us that we are very privileged to be able to go to a private school and travel abroad, so we shouldn’t take this opportunity for granted. She also reminded that when we grow older, don’t put our parents in nursing homes if we happen to be too busy with everything else. We should take care of them and keep them close to us as nothing makes her happier than seeing her grandchild grow up to be successful and happy. I never knew what a nursing home looked like apart from the ones in movies — but the one we visited looked nothing like those.

Another thing I found out was they didn’t like getting their photos taken. Some students were assigned tasks of taking photos to post, some of the elderly told us to not take any photos as they don’t look as good as they did before — which was not true. But we respected their choice, so we stopped taking photos. Hearing this made my heart swell knowing although they were born almost a decade before me, they still possess the same insecurities as me, like everyone else. Afterward, I felt a closer connection with them. 

So, to end my blo0-g, unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to take photos, so I had to take them from the internet. Here’s a stunning photo of two elderly (that I talked to) looking young as ever!

Image from: https://hieuvetraitim.com/donggop/nha-duong-lao-tinh-thuong-vinh-son.171/

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Blog 4

My next blog is dedicated to the women who gave birth to me and persistently beats me up. First my best friend and now my mom, it seems like there’s an over-whelming number of birthdays in September – which explains why my wallet gets thinner and thinner by the day. Unlike the Western culture, I don’t think Asians express their love for one another enough. My family never says “I love you” to each other or kiss each other on the cheek. This meant I never got the opportunity to officially thank my mom for the countless sacrifices and care she’s given to me through raising me with pain and sweat, this woman has endured all my bad and good moments with a smile on her face (and a broomstick ready to hit me between her perfectly manicured nails). Seriously, she would never leave the house with chipped nails. Sometimes thinking back at all the things I’ve done, I don’t understand how she deals with me. If I had a kid this rebellious, I’d be tired as shit by now.  

She’d always tell me. “you won’t know how much my love for you is until you have your own child,” which is a very long time away but hell I hope he/she isn’t anything like me!

So, I’d like to take this blog to finally appreciate and thank her for her efforts as the best mother ever.

I’d like to thank my mother for giving me an education to make up for the lack of education she had. Growing up from a poor family and eight siblings, there was no chance they’d have money to send all eight kids to school. Meaning she went to school until seventh grade, then dropping out to help my grandma sell food, giving the opportunity to her younger siblings as she stood third oldest in her sibling line. She’s one of the most self-less people I know, and I only strive to learn from her. Every night she’d cook dinner and we’d eat as a family on our Asian table with the cool spinning turn-table on top. My brother being almost 1 meter 90 had a large appetite, so he’d always eat double the amount of everyone else. Knowing this, my mom would always say she wasn’t hungry but deep inside, I knew it was because she wanted to save the good food for my brother to eat, and she’d nibble on the left overs later at night,  

To properly thank her, I spent my allowance on a big boquet of flowers to surprise her for her birthday. Since she usually wakes up at nine, I set a timer to wake up at eight-thirty to set up the kitchen. Me and my brother blew up heart-shaped balloons and stuck it around the area with double sided tape. Me, my brother and my dad all wrote her a card and left it lying below the flowers so when she wakes up, it’d be the first thing she sees.

To my surprise, she was very excited to see the flowers since the only occasion we’d ever buy flowers were on days where we had to pray. Other than that, she never treated herself to anything as she was always so busy. We had a nice dinner during the night time and spent the evening watching her (very boring) Korean drama movies.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!

If you were wondering what she’s holding in that picture, its acrtually a GIANT mango the size of her face - and yes, those do exist. 

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Blog 3

Moon festival was coming up, which is meant for making up lost time not spent with family members. With the hustle and bustle of modern-day lifestyles, everything feels as if it’s fast forwarded. I remember when I was young, my mom would tell me about a story that her own mother told her when she was a similar age.  

Long ago, there was a loving couple with golden hearts, always wanting to help everyone they saw. Despite not having much, they would offer what they could. The heaven above saw their constant act of kindness so they offered the couple an elixir that could give them immortality. They kindly accepted although not having any intentions to use it. Hearing this, the husband’s mother snuck into their room at night to steal the small bottle as she was aging quick and wanted to live forever. She drank the bottle and felt a tingly sensation crawling up her spine. It’s working, she thought. Little did she know, there was a twist. The elixir only worked on people it was given to. Those with greed and selfishness would suffer a side-effect when taking it. She would live forever as she was promised, but she was banished to the moon to stay there forever. For generations, rumors have slipped around that you could see her shadow on the moon when it was full.

Sounds unrealistic but growing up, every time it was the Moon Festival, I would gaze deeply at the moon to see if I could somehow find her shadow lurking on the moon. Of course, this was before I learnt about space in science and knew that the universe was made up of dark matter. Or that travelling to space without proper equipment is physically impossible and my naked eyes could not possibly see a shadow on the moon unless I used a microscope.  

As I thought back while writing this blog, I’ve realized that I didn’t even remember it was Moon Festival until an email was sent out by Ms. Chelsea. Instead, I confidently remembered that two weeks ago, it was a half-day on Friday. Doesn’t that sound depressing?  

It’s quite interesting. Was it that I grew out of the excitement and was engaged in other things as I got older or was it the overwhelming amount of work I was buried way too deep under that I had forgotten the importance of culture and fun.  

In a Socratic seminar with Mr. Nick, one student explained why he was unable to finish his work. His reason being over the weekend, he was too busy hanging out with his friends because Moon Festival is a very big event in Korea. His statement made me ponder at my own actions. It’s a big event in Vietnam too. If anyone lived in an apartment like me, we could tell just by looking at the abnormally lit up streets compared to normal- indicating the hectic conditions of the streets as families went out to spend time together. If he was away from his home country and still was able to celebrate his culture and traditions with ease, why couldn’t I?

Memories of the past lurked through my brain as I recalled the excitement that burned deep within me whenever the Moon Festival was approaching. I’d spend the day making lanterns with our Vietnamese teachers in school, ate traditional Moon Festival food for lunch and ended the day with a heart-felt assembly. Everyone would dress up in their áo dài, the school would radiate with colors of the rainbow. The atmosphere was phenomenal. My favorite part of the occasion was the mother-daughter time spent together. The day before my school celebrated the moon festival, we’d go to Ben Thanh market to shop for a new áo dài to wear. I absolutely loved walking around, having my mom hold my hand as we cross the street, and having her pick my clothes.

As I get older, I seem to care less about things like this. I can’t even remember the last time my mom took me áo dài shopping. Do I even have one that fits anymore? Seems like I had forgotten what the texture and taste of a Moon Cake was like in my mouth. This year was much like every other year ever since I turned double digits. Though the occasion has passed, it’s a good reflection for me to see whether I’m balancing my life out properly. Maybe this will allow me to reflect, making my next year’s moon festival extra exciting as I’ll be abroad in university- so I’d need an extra load of Vietnamese culture to keep me feeling at home in my heart while being physically thousands of miles away.

 A stall selling Moon Lantern

Photo from: blog.vietexperttravel

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Blog 2

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Mr. Matt’s history class. The hate aspect being the suffocating amount of homework he gives, but in love with study of certain overlapping events that have shaped our modern-day society. Although Vietnamese, I mentally do not consider myself as one as I’ve been going to an international school since I was two- which is why I’m so curious about the Vietnamese history and trying over-priced traditional food that I could probably find elsewhere for half of the price if I was more Vietnamese.  

One topic that intrigued me the most was the Vietnam War from 1955 until 1975. Mostly because it’s the closest to my generation, therefore I’m still exposed to the aftermath of the event, allowing me to have a closer relation with it. I’ve always had a fascination for going to museums. There was something enchanting about visiting a museum and thinking to yourself: “Wow, fifty years ago, a Vietnamese soldier stood on this very tank and now it’s right in front of me!”

Being to countless museums, time after time they all started to look the same to me. A lot of preserved writings, plans, some uniform and a shit ton of maps with lines indicating the military routes they planned. But one museum I will never forget (and would recommend anyone who has free time and is interested in being blown away) is the War Remnants Museum in the city center. Containing three floors filled with leftover items from the war, as I proceed to make my way up every floor, the more interesting the artifacts get. I never knew entering a room could change my life so much. In small sealed glass boxes lies real fetuses preserved from the war that was affected by agent orange. You could see extra limbs crawling out as the fetus floats in the orange liquid. Never in my life have I planned to see a human fetus close-up (ever), definitely a gruesome sight, but a worth-while experience for opening my eyes to the conditions of the war.

To end this blog, here’s a picture of my friend, taken in front of the museum gate where they displayed vintage cars (her Instagram game is strong)

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Blog 1

The majority of my best and most beautiful memories are captured with my iPhone X which is the main reason why everytime I’m out, my phone is always surviving on low battery. When introduced to this ongoing project, I’ve thought about many outside the box ideas, however, agreed that simplicity was always best- so of course, she settled for the smiling and head tilting backward pose. This breath-taking picture is of my best friend, Nantha. Since it’s almost her birthday, I’ll dedicate my first post on my blog to her.

I’ll start with a little background about how my love for photos grew. There were many factors that sparked my interest in taking pictures, starting at an early age. I can’t quite recall specifically but I remembered when my uncle bought his first camera, and me being very intrigued by it. I can mostly remember during family vacations, I’d always offer to take the family photos. Of course, I was young therefore most of my pictures were either slanted or had my thumb sneaking onto the edge of the photos, but nonetheless was the start of my developing love for photography.

Let’s continue with the photo. There’s a saying that goes “there’s always a story behind every photo,” which I believed was just some sappy cheesy quote you could find after scrolling on Tumblr for the remainder of the night. Despite that, after this photo, it changed my perspective on everything.

This photo was taken a few months ago and continues to be one of my favorite photos I’ve taken. Like the quote mentioned, there’s a story behind every photo, making this picture no different. Quite a personal story actually, yet she gave me the permission to share it with my high school English teacher. At first glance, this photo might appear to be just a cheery nicely dressed girl sitting by the side of a bar at a fancy coffee shop. But behind the clothes, makeup and smile is the now damaged soul of my best friend after the loss of her father. This photo was taken right after she attended the burial of her father. She’s changed into this outfit and met me to eat. One contributing factor that makes me love this picture so much is the mixture of bright colors, but what shines brighter than the colors is my friend’s smile. The fact that even after a depressing event, she still manages to smile and stay strong. I love that when I look back at this photo, I get reminded of her strength and it contributes to my daily confidence.

Photo taken by me.