I wish...

I’m not a fan of New Year’s Eve. Don’t get me wrong. I love sipping champagne or a few “R & Rs” while getting dolled up with my girlfriends. And, I do embrace the gathering of friends and the drinking of copious amounts of alcohol. I don’t mind that all the restaurants and bars are overcrowded and over-priced (I avoid them anyway). What I dislike about New Year’s Eve is that it is New Year’s Eve. It’s a holiday that’s inherent existence obligates you to take an inventory of your life as it stands at the end of another year gone by and on the eve of a new one. (Not to mention that it always sneaks up on me). But this year, I did something different.

On the eve of 2009, the crowds converged around Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake, bringing traffic to a near standstill and creating a carnival-like atmosphere. Some toted bunches of brightly colored balloons, others sold incense and other offerings to leave at the pagoda’s alter, but most were there simply to take part in the celebration.


My friends and I arrived at the fringe of the festivities by taxi, and we quickly realized that we’d have to go by foot to get through the crowded streets. As we weaved single-file in, out, and around the idling motorbikes going nowhere, we took in the sight of dozens of brightly lit lanterns drifting gracefully upward above the chaos below. It was beautiful, and in that moment, amid the exhaust fumes and honking horns, I knew that no New Year’s resolution was going to bring me closer to what I wanted for 2009.


I set my sights on finding a lantern of my own. Like a Buddhist prayer sent into the wind, I was determined to send my wish out into the world. Among thousands of people, it was a seemingly impossible mission like searching for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow except nothing has ever felt more possible. At the stroke of midnight, I made my wish and watched it float away into the night sky. I didn’t revisit regrets or make any half-hearted pledges for the coming year. Instead, I was reminded of a different time. For that evening, I was filled with hope and faith and I believed again in the childish magic of wishing upon a star.

Vietnam: Day 2-Present, Part I

Since getting through my first day, my experience in Vietnam has been a whirlwind. On Day 2, I woke at 5am. By 7am, I was sitting at a local Pho shop drinking my morning coffee when a Dutch traveler sat down beside me. He was headed to the Mekong Delta in 15 minutes. Would I like to come? I boarded the bus at 7:30am.

The road beyond the Mekong has led me all over the country—from the beaches, fishing villages and floating markets in the south to the mountains and hill tribes in the north.

I have trekked through terraced rice paddies and bamboo forests. I have seen the sunset over Ha Long Bay, explored the old French hill station at the top of Ba Na mountain, and navigated the tailor heaven (or hell, depending on how you look at it) of Hoi An. I have learned to ride a motorbike (even during the Hanoi rush hour traffic!). I’ve found a house and have begun my teaching job at the International Language Academy (ILA).





Things have fallen into place. And, although the experience has been wonderful in so many ways, I still wonder what part it will play and where this road will lead. I wonder does this change anything. Is this going to help me find what I’m looking for? I can’t help but to question myself; to question whether or not it really makes a difference what I do or where I go. Wasn’t it Pink Floyd who said, wherever you go, there you are?

In moments like these, I always think of my life in Vermont. I think about what I would be doing if I were there now. Maybe I’d be making dinner with Erin or out running with Julie; watching a movie with Suz or dealing with the latest crisis at work. I certainly do miss my friends and so many other aspects of my life there, but then I remind myself that it was time for me to move on. I was no longer happy and I needed to do something about it. I don’t love or miss my friends any less and, thankfully, I know that they’ll always be there. I have made a number of new friends and somehow, all along the way, I have been fortunate enough to catch up with quite a few old ones as well…

Vietnam: Day 1

Three and a half months ago, I had my tarot read. In tarot, the first card chosen is the most important because it is what the entire reading is based upon. My first card was an illustration of a woman leaping from a cliff. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Three days from then, I would be boarding a plane to Vietnam. I had given up my job, apartment, and the majority of my clothes and shoes. I gave up my Bongos! More importantly, I had made the decision to leave a community filled with close friends and many memories—a place that had become ‘home’ to me for the first time in my life. I was taking a leap of faith and trusting that the universe would provide me with everything I needed.

On September 18^th, I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, tired, jetlagged and definitely a little lost. I spent my first day searching for a cheap hotel that would be clean and comfortable for the duration of my CELTA (Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults) course. The heat was oppressive, the streets impassable and the sidewalks weren’t meant for walking. In Vietnam, the sidewalks are for cooking, eating, peddling and motorbike parking. Walk at your own risk! By late afternoon and after having little success, I was feeling frustrated. I decided to buy a cell phone. I needed to hear a familiar voice and was determined to give my friend, Jessica, a call.

I’ve known Jess since 2001. We served in AmeriCorps*NCCC together and had stayed in touch throughout the years. It was a coincidence that we were both in Vietnam. In March, I received an excited phone call from her that went something like this:

Me: “Hello?”

Jessica: “Guess what?! Guess what?!”

Me: “Umm…I don’t know…You’re finally going to Chile?!”

Jessica: “No,” she said, “Vietnam!”

Me: “Me too!”

Six months later, we shared in that excitement and disbelief again on my first day in Vietnam. Sure, she was in Hanoi and I was in HCMC, but close enough. At least she was in the same country as me. Hell, she was on the same continent! I only spoke with her briefly that day, but that was all I needed to make it through Day 1—to hear a voice of a longtime friend who wasn’t so far away.

Thank you, Jess (and the Universe).

Bye, Bye B-Town

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Yes, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, that was God telling me everything's gonna be alright








Well, so long good friends, when will we meet again?
I said so long good friends, when will we meet again?
Well, I don't know, I don't know, but I guess I'll see you then








Well, I'm gonna pack my old guitar, move on down the road
Where I go I don't know, but I guess I gots to go

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
That was God telling me everything, everything's gonna be alright.

Rainbow, Jack Johnson

The First of Many Lasts

Yesterday morning I said goodbye to my sister, her husband, their youngest two children, and most of my furniture, clothing and shoes. As I watched them drive away, I realized that this goodbye was the first of many to come over the next six weeks. And as I replayed it in my mind, the reason for my sister’s sadness finally hit me—it was also the last time I would see her for an indefinite amount of time. I’ve got a one-way ticket out of here without any idea of when I’ll be returning. This goodbye was the first of many lasts, which left me feeling a bit undone.

I reviewed the photos taken during their stay. There wasn’t a single one of my sister and me together or of me with my niece or nephew. And it rained throughout their entire visit. This place has been my home for nearly 4 years and I didn’t get to show them why. Then, I found myself assessing the skeletal remains of my closet, upset that I hadn’t given her this shirt or that dress. I looked around my room and saw a wallet I should have given her, oh, and I meant to ask her to hold onto that T-shirt for safekeeping. It has sentimental value, but now it’s too late. What will I do with that T-shirt now!

Feeling deflated, I realized that I just needed to stop. I needed to stop with these small regrets. I’m sure that someone else might appreciate a new wallet. I needed to stop feeling bad about things that are out of my control. I consider myself a person with some talents, but sun dancing is not one of them. I needed to stop and sit and think. I needed to figure out how to shake this feeling of inevitable failure and impending regret. I decided to make a list.

My list is of the things that I know I want to experience for one last time. They are made up of the things that I love most or have some of my fondest memories of doing in VT. I figure that with sufficient planning I’ll be able to escape BTV with limited emotional baggage. In no particular order:

1. Muddy's Chocolate Espresso Shake
2. KK's Rise and Shiner with Bacon
3. Hike Mt. Mansfield with lots of yummy food
   
4. Run the entire bike path
5. Individual runs with J, B, Em and E.
   
6. A day on the lake with friends and cocktails on A's boat
7. Grace Potter concert on the Waterfront
   
8. Bangkok Bistro's Calamari and Massaman Tofu
9. Maura's Fabulous Salad and the Planet Burger
10. A leisurely day on Church Street of cocktails, lunch and shopping w/ EKB
11. A picnic with Friends at Leddy Park
12. Time with out-of-state friends and family
    
13. A final reading with D
14. Dinner and a movie at Q-Monroe's with J, Oli and Ella (This is not a hint, I swear!)
    

$.25 Hotdog Night!

Last night was one of my favorite summer events in B-Town. Three years ago I was introduced to $.25 Hotdog Night at Centennial Field, home of Vermont’s minor league baseball team, the Lake Monsters (formerly known as the Vermont Expos). At the time, I hadn’t eaten a hotdog for somewhere around 14 years (or whenever it was that I learned what they were actually made of). Fortunately, a baseball game is the perfect place to put such things aside. And, for that evening, that is exactly what I did by eating my fair share of wieners. Since then, $.25 Hotdog Night has become an annual outing and the one night a year that I happily eat hotdogs for dinner.

Oh, and did I mention the view...

TBD

Vietnam. It’s where I’m headed to next. People are naturally asking me why I chose Vietnam. My response is very simple: Why not Vietnam?

I am 30 years old. I rent. I have no car. No pets. No boyfriends. No kids. No debt! I do have a job that I love and hate in the very same moment. And, I do own a geranium, which does hold a miniscule of sentimental value since it was stolen from a cheating ex-boyfriend as an act of pure, malicious, liberating revenge. As much as I love and hate my job and as much as I enjoy being sent into nostalgic bliss at the sight of my “love plant,” it’s just not enough.

So, what is enough? And, why do I think I’ll find it in Vietnam?

Honestly, I don’t really know.

What I do know is that I want to live a life that I can look back on and be proud that I lived it well and to the fullest, that I took advantage of the unique opportunities I was presented and that I at least tried to make a difference and to leave the world just a little bit better. Wherever I am, I want to know without reason that that is exactly where I belong, and whomever I’m with is exactly whose arms I need to be in.

I know that everyone has choices to make, whether they end up as good or bad choices is irrelevant. The important part is living with intention, being conscious of the possible consequences of each decision and being willing to live with those consequences. I’m making this choice because I don’ want to ever wonder, what if? I’m at peace with stepping to the edge of the unknown and making the choice to leap. Now whether or not I soar or even land on both feet, well, that is yet to be determined.