Laos Lovin' and Learning

Why is it that the one person you want to run into you don't, but those that you don't give a shit about, you do ... weekly. We've been running into the same people over and over again during our travels. We give the mandatory, "hey, what's up, how you doin," salute and then go off doing our own thing. Sometimes you talk for longer, bullshitting a bunch of bullshit you don't care about, then that's it. I even ran into the guy I made a fool out of myself with in a Luang Prabang bowling alley (I'm seeing a tragic trend here), in Vang Vieng. It was awkward, he pretended not to see me, I tried not to make eye contact, then Denny screamed his name and it was all over ... mandatory five minutes of awkward conversation and nervous laughing.

It's been a great/tumultuous week. After Hanoi we took a flight to Luang Prabang. Luang Prabang is a gorgeous city--orange-robed monks roam the streets and crowd beautiful gold temples, elephants walk around town like it's the norm, small open-air cafes surround the idyllic mekong, and at night, the streets are glowing and rich with open air markets selling .... everything I could ever want to buy, and believe me I wanted everything--jeweled toned scarves, beautifully patterned bags, Laotian artwork ... you name it, I wanted it. The minute we got on a tuk tuk from the airport, the first thing I saw was a man on an elephant and a monk in an orange robe ... seriously? How could you not love this city, it's a writer's dream and most definitely a photographers dream as well.

Luang Prabang was not, unfortunately, ideal in every possible way. As I sat at a cafe sipping a Lao Beer and writing in my journal, I thought, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CAMERA! Oh and it was gone. No where to be found. Then I remembered, Denny and I were sitting here, my camera on the table, when two kids came up and sold us one dollar bracelets. We bought some, and after he left, it was gone. That's the only thing I can think of. I don't want to blame some poor kid, but I have to blame some poor kid because that's the only explanation. Damn kid. I spent the next couple hours sulking .... oh and to top it all off, in my manic-frenzy of trying to find my camera I lost the bag I literally just bought. It was a beautiful one too. I've come to the conclusion that I lose everything. It's almost come to the point where I lose something and just think, eh it figures, whatevs, because I'm so over being disappointed in losing things.

During my freak out of losing my camera and all my photos of the past three weeks, there was this amazing boat festival taking place. The city was literally lit up with glowing paper boats making their way in a procession down to the Mekong river, the temples were illuminated with brightly colored lanterns and the sound of banging drums and laughter filled the night air. The city was beautiful, it was such a wonderful thing to see, but I was too upset about my camera to really take it in. I went back to my room, sulked for a half an hour to Denny, and he gave me a pep talk and basically said, "don't let this little thing ruin your night, look at what's going on outside, you don't want to miss this." I decided he was right. I was letting something material get in the way of this experience.

We left the shelter of our air-conditioned room and went outside. It was amazing--a sensory overload almost too brilliant to handle. The smell of egg-crepes covered in condensed milk filled our nostrils, the sound of laughter, of kids running around, and of banging drums filled our ears. The sight of ancient Laotian temples, surrounded by monks in richly colored robes, while star-shaped, jeweled-toned lanterns, and fire crackers illuminated the city of Luang Prabang made me forget that I ever lost my stupid camera. I wanted to slap myself for almost missing this because of something material. We followed the procession of paper boats down to the mekong and watched them float away on the river, forming glowing pools of amber and sparking champagne-colored crystals slowly floating away from us down the tepid river.

After the boats left, we made our way back to the city center and walked through the myriad temples that make up Luang Prabang. We walked into one--it was relatively small, the outside a rich golden color. On the inside there were two monks sitting on the side and chanting something in Laotian. I couldn't understand a word but it really didn't matter. A large golden Buddha stood in front of me and a few others were kneeling down to pray. I kneeled down and at that moment an overwhelming sensation of gratitude came over my entire being. I didn't know what it meant or how to handle it but I could feel my eyes well up with tears as I closed them to the calming sound of monks chanting. I clasped my hands and I thanked that golden Buddha in front of me for giving me that moment. I thanked whatever force out there for giving me this trip, for letting me feel truly and utterly alive again, for showing me, for the first time in a long time, what travel does to your soul. For giving me that boat festival on that muggy day in Luang Prabang, for helping me realize that a camera is just a camera. Someone can steal your camera, your photos, but they can never take away your memories. I know that overwhelming feeling of emotion and thanks I felt at that temple will be with me for the rest of my life ... sans photograph.

After Luang Prabang we left for Vang Vieng where we spent five glorious days tubing, relaxing, drinking shitloads, and meeting new friends. To add to my list of fun individuals we've met, are Franz from Germany, we lovingly call Air France because of the way he flies through the ropes in Tubing, Orla and Pete, a lovely (and ridiculously fun) Irish couple who could and did literally drink me under the table, Leslie an adorable Scottish girl, and Francis another Irish dude whose general sweetness was impossible not to like. This was our new found group of friends in Vang Vieng, our temporary friends who we hung out with, drank with, tubed with and spent time with for a few days. It's strange having two day friends and it's always sad to say goodbye in the end, but it's something you just get used to traveling. We all plan to meet at the Full Moon party in Thailand but who knows if that is going to happen. I hope so.

Tubing in Vang Vieng is hard to explain. Vang Vieng in general is fucking surreal, there were so many days where Denny and I would look at each other and just say, "where are we?" It's full of backpackers--mostly white backpackers with dreadlocks, douche bag backpackers, hippie backpackers, hardcore alcoholic backpackers, and basically, everyone speaks English. Cafes are filled with westerners and episodes of Friends or Family Guy are played back to back. Denny and I are always the token brown folks. Many think Denny is the tour guide or the waiter at the restaurant. I on the other had am harder to figure out. Where the hell am I from? She doesn't look American, why the dark skin? Oh travelling ...

Ok, so I've come to the conclusion that tubing in Vang Vieng is fucking brilliant. You rent tubes and a tuk tuk drives you down to the Nam Song river where you start your totally un-sober journey. As you float down the river, a plethora of bars surround you on every side. I think there are ten total (we only ever ended up making it to five). As you lazily lay on the tubes, natives throw you a rope, or a stick, or whatever, and pull you into the prospective bar. Each bar is the ubiquitous spring break fiesta, full of youngsters chugging Lao beer, taking free whiskey shots, sipping buckets of god knows what, chain smoking, flirting, and just generally partying in the sun. Once you are bored with one bar, you go to the next, and the next, and the next, until you are so wasted and/or high that you can't even imagine how the fuck you are going to get back to land via tube. The first day it was six of us, linked together in our tubes trying to make it back home. It was literally pitch black the only thing we could see were stars and some dim lights in the horizon (which gave me hope). It was pouring rain, Lee, the hippie from Minnesota kept our spirits high by singing Bob Dylan songs, and kept on reassuring us he knew where the hell he was going. Turns out he did and we made it back safely, only to drink more at the notorious "Bucket Bar." I'm gonna give a shout out to buckets right now because, they are amazing. It's a bucket full of alcohol, fuck glasses, who needs glasses when you can literally have a bucket full of delicious alcoholic beverage, with four straws in it. Fabulous and dangerous, but all in all ... fabulous. I'm bringing buckets to San Francisco.

Vang Vieng was great. I miss the friends we made. I always do, but then, I guess you make new ones and move on with your travels. We are in Vientiane now. It's boring so far, but I haven't seen anything yet. It's definitely not tubing. After Vientiane we are meeting our friend Daniel, (the San Franciscan we met in Hanoi), in Phnom Penh to explore Cambodia. I can't wait.

I've realized something about myself on this trip, that I guess I've always known but been somewhat oblivious too. I live my life with my heart completely exposed. There's no armor, no protection, it's completely open to everything and anything. To falling in love--even though I've been disappointed more times than I can count, and my hearts been broken so badly I literally thought I was dying. It's not just about love though, it's about friendship, new experiences, new people, to just new sights and smells, and emotions I've never felt before. Everything affects me so much, everything has meaning, and I always take chances with my heart. Even if it means at the end of the day that it hurts, at least there's no regret. At least, I learned something and at least I am really living. I remember conversations on this trip, with exact clarity and I know they will stay with me forever. One in particular. I asked a guy I met in Vietnam if he felt at home there. He said no, but told me something his friend said to him which I thought was just lovely. His friend who is traveling with his girlfriend, whenever he wants to be at home, he closes the hotel door, looks at his girlfriend, and there he is. At home. It made me realize that home can be a person, it can be a love, or it can just be a memory. I thought that was beautiful and I don't think I'll ever forget that or him. I can't say I feel at home in Vientiane, but I feel at home with myself, no matter where I am. I guess your home really is wherever your heart is. Right now my heart is traveling and in travel I feel at home. I've also realized on this trip that the only regrets I've ever had have been when I didn't follow my heart ... so heart here goes. I guess I'm back to following you again.

A Word With my Heart in Hanoi

It's been a while since I've written. I feel wretched that I haven't been keeping up with my blog, but I've been majorly preoccupied with traveling, drinking, and the like. Too much drinking, too much of "the like." I need a break. We are in Hanoi now, staying at the Hanoi Backpackers Hostel which is the most fun I've had on the entire trip, but also the most cliche thing I've done on this entire trip. It's the ubiquitous frat-party, playing ground of twenty-something backpackers, getting trashed every night off fishbowls of vodka red bull, hooking up with other drunk travelers like it's their day job, and hanging around in circles conversing about their epic Asian adventures. Needless to say it's a blast, but I think I need to get out of here and stop making a drunken fool of myself. Good thing we leave tomorrow for Luang Prabang, Laos.

From Hoi An we went to Hue, which was interesting but semi boring. After coming from beautiful, romantic, enchanting Hoi An, I was disjointed in Hue. We saw the Forbidden City which had nothing on the one in Beijing, took a few cyclo rides at 2 a.m., stayed at the DMZ hotel which was attached to the DMZ restaurant/bar which served exorbitantly expensive drinks and mediocre cheeseburgers. We met some cool travelers, hung out with them for a night and then made our way via overnight bus to Hanoi.

In Hanoi, we decided to take the Halong Bay two night/three day boat tour that the hostel provided. I expected a booze cruise of sorts, full of other alcohol consuming backpackers and hippies, but never expected the views to be so spectacular. From the hostel, Denny and I met Daniel--a lone traveler born in Texas who is now a San Franciscan transplant. We also met a group of hilarious and fun girls named Misty, Emily and Ally--Emily and Ally also from San Francisco. The group of us had a blast on the boat and made the typical plans of hanging out after the trip is over in San Francisco. We are trying to meet Daniel in Cambodia in a few weeks; I hope it happens because he's a seriously legit dude. Legit.

The first day, we took a four hour bus ride to Halong where we got on a beautiful dark-wooden boat that we would be staying the night on. There were thrity-something of us and immediately we all started talking, sippin beer, and hanging out as the boat made it's way through the gigantic rock formations that encapsulated us on every side. Halong Bay is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been, hands down. Every five seconds I would look at Denny or Daniel and just say, this is amazing, this is unreal, I can't believe we are here right now. It's one of those places that just pulls at your heart strings and makes you want to cry because you can't believe you can be this lucky to see something so beautiful. It made me feel so, so grateful to be alive--to be traveling, to be able to see one of the worlds natural wonders, and just to be a part of it all with new and old friends.

In the past three weeks I have had so many moments of clarity amongst the drunken haziness, so many moments of deja vu which always freaks me out a bit but makes me think that this trip was fated in my destiny. There have been so many "wow" moments where I just realize that I am really living for the first time in a long time, I am truly happy, and that there are endless opportunities in this world for me. I can live anywhere. I can say fuck it to San Francisco and move to Hanoi and work at a hostel, like so many others I have met. I can say fuck it to San Francisco, move to Thailand and be a writer. I can do anything I want, if I really want it, and for the first time in a long time I don't feel stuck. I'm scared to try to find a job in San Francisco, the economy is shit. I don't know how long it will take, and now, I'm seriously thinking of moving abroad and finding a writing job. I want to find something that is me, that is more adventurous, that will make me feel excited everyday to get up in the morning, instead of just working for the weekend.

Wow, I just went off on a tangent. I've just been thinking a lot about what this trip has done for me so far, and I'm only three weeks in. If I was in San Francisco, I would be doing the same shit. Working (or not, since I am jobless at the moment), going to Beauty Bar on a Saturday night , and just generally doing the same crap I have done every week for the past two years. Not that there's anything wrong with a routine; it's just nice to break out of it for a while. I'm a restless soul, It's a blessing and a curse--it's one of my weakest qualities but also the one that makes me adventurous.

Back to the boat trip. The first night was spent on the boat, where we had a massive party, full of bottles of Hanoi vodka, a seemingly endless supply of beer, random ipod music, and dancing, people hooking up left and right, all while under the star-light sky of Halong Bay. That was the first time in my life I've partied on a boat while being surrounded by breathtakingly beautiful views. It was a once in a lifetime experience and I loved every minute of it. After getting an hour of sleep I woke up, devoured some breakfast and we went kayaking for the day. Let me start by saying, I'm not a kayaker. I've been maybe once in my life in Mexico when I was seventeen on a booze cruise. Regardless, it was amazing. Being in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by Halong bay, going through caves, looking up and seeing thousands of rock formations sticking out from the serene water, covered in lush greenery, is something I will never forget. Now, I love kayaking, but I think this is as good as it gets. It's hard to even explain how beautiful this place is and photos don't do it justice. If it didn't take two hours to upload ten photos I would put some up to exemplify the sheer beauty of this place. Right now, I don't have the patience. That night we stayed in a hotel and spent another night at a bar partying with the group. Basically a lot of drinking which resulted in me getting three hours of sleep. Four hours of sleep in two days is not enough, let me tell you that. My body knows that too well. Regardless of what my body tells me, sometimes, often, I don't listen.

Since last night was Misty, Ally, and Emily's last night with us we got drunk ... again. Not the best idea as it ended somewhat dramatically with me on a motobike with a dude I met on the Halong bay trip, who I yelled " I hate you" at by the end of the night. I didn't mean it, I was just drunk and dramatic. (Story of my life.) After that, I went on a rant about how I hate all men (pretty typical of me as well), drunkenly told some poor Swiss dude that I thought all men are dicks and that I hated him, and went to bed drunk, angry and laughing because of the ridiculousness of myself. Pretty typical drunk Lena move--all of it. I need to stop saying hate. I really don't hate anyone or anything, I just like to be dramatic sometimes and people don't get it. Pretty typical. Pretty fucking typical. I won't go into detail, it's too much too expose right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm embarrassed today. Pretty sure, and I think I need a word with myself, a word with dude, and a word with my heart.

Denny is the only person keeping me sane, telling me I'm too emotional, that I need to stop thinking with my heart and with my head. Hella cheesy but it's true. If my head was to have a word with my heart, it would say, " Listen heart, stop it now. You are lying. Stop being flattered by every, little thing a hot guy says to you. It doesn't mean shit. It's a lie. Don't be fooled by that adorable accent. Think with you're fucking head for once in your life. You're on vacation. Vacation! Romance is important, but remember, you're on fucking vacation. You have to stop expecting shit. Actually, don't expect anything. You're here for two days, three days whatever. Stop taking everything so damn seriously, you are ridiculous. You are too romantic. Snap the FUCK out of it. Have fun, stop being a drunken mess and move on with your life. You can't trust everyone you meet. You can hardly trust anyone you meet, and why would you trust someone you've known for two days or three days or one day, or whatever. Learn you're lessons and move on. It's all part of the experience and you are learning from it. There you go heart, that's all I have to say to you. Please listen to me." I know it won't. It never does. I think it's just one of those things it needs to learn on it's own. For now, I'm traveling and so is my heart. It keeps bouncing around from place to place ... being fucking confused. Sorry heart ... I'm sorry.

From Nha Trang to Hoi An

• I know I have been lagging on the writing. It's been a chore to get my lazy ass off the beach and to a computer where I can spend some actual quality time writing about my experiences instead of drinking them away at the Red Apple Backpacker's bar in Nha Trang. I spent the last 5 days there consuming sugary alcoholic beverages like I'm in Cancun on Spring Break circa 2002--sleeping in till the afternoon, and lazying away a few hours on the beach only to do it all over again the next night. My twenty-six year old body was not havin' it. I can't drink like I'm twenty-one anymore and I can't keep up with the twenty-three year olds I've been hanging out with. I'm old. I can't party like I used to, I can't drink "buckets" of vodka red bull and follow it up with a beer bong at 5 a.m. Ok, maybe I can (and god, did I, minus the beer bong part) but my body definitely hates me the next day.
  
  My friend Jenna met me from China and is now traveling with Denny and I for a month. Nha Trang was miles away from the hectic streets of Saigon, and a welcome respite from boring, rainy Dalat. It was beautiful. The weather was perfect, I got tan on the beach, got to spend some time in the ocean, got two massages, met a number of lovely travelers, made some new friends, spent all week at one bar--The Red Apple, which became our oasis where the owners knew us by name and the familiar faces of wayward backpackers were there nightly. Kind of like Cheers, but tropical and more "Spring breakie." It was like a home away from home for a few nights. I'm sure my vision was deluded with alcohol, cute boys with accents (sigh), and hot weather--regardless, I enjoyed myself and it was hard to leave.
  
  Denny got bored and had to book it a day early to Hoi An, where we are now. Jenna and I took the overnight bus the next day. It was harsh. Eleven hours on a night bus, ridiculously bumpy roads, with a cramped "bed" space, no bathroom, and the sporadic noise of people coughing and sneezing in the background was no way to get a good nights sleep. Luckily, I scored an ambien from Denny and it was out for a good eight hours until we reached our destination.
  
  We got to Hoi An yesterday morning and spent all day walking around this small, charming town famous for it's clothing shops where you can get anything you're heart desires made. After hours of walking around and checking out the different seamstresses, I found one that made me the most perfect red, flowery hippie dress, a la Mischa Barton, that I found in a cut out of Vogue.
  
  We went to a cooking class later in the day, where we learned how to make a variety of different Vietnamese dishes--spring rolls, tamarind prawns, pork braised in coconut water ... it was all delicious. We ordered two bottles of wine, the chefs insatiably flirted with Denny, and we got drunk at the tiny restaurant lit up with red and yellow lanterns, overlooking the water. It was one of those nights I'll never forget--a perfect travel moment that will always be ingrained in my memory. After we were a little tipsy off wine, we went back to our seamstress to try on our dresses and got conned into buying more. I'm getting another brown hippie dress made that I semi designed myself, semi got off a magazine. I don't know how it's going to turn out. Drunk designing/shopping may not be the best idea, or the best idea for my wallet. Oh well, carpe diem. Right? Today I'm off to the beach in Hoi An then to go see my dress. I love this town--it's charming like no other town I've ever been to. The streets are filled with glowing lantern shops, and the river is overflowing with tiny boats. There's so much to write and not enough time. All I can say is I love Vietnam and I truly am having the time of my life.