The Beginning

Scientists process the world through questions, hypotheses, and objectives. We want to solve issues, find truths, and seek answers. For the past eight months, I’ve been bustling away in the Ivory Tower running laboratory sessions for first years, marking hundreds of their quizzes and lab reports, reading endless scientific papers, giving presentations, attending workshops, writing assignments, and perhaps least of all, dwelling on potential thesis topics. Academia hasn’t been quite what I expected; after an undergraduate degree that was as much about extracurriculars as it was about class, it’s been a hard pill to swallow spending up to 14 hours a day in the same building. Some days my skin never feels the sun; I emerge from the Fisheries Centre groggy-eyed and brain dead, unable to form proper thoughts or interact with other humans. Yet the next day I return, to pour my heart and soul into a Masters degree that will eventually unlock all the keys to pursuing my passion (I hope).

What do I do, exactly? On paper, I’m working towards a Master of Science (Zoology) degree. Specifically, I am studying the exploited seahorse populations of southern Vietnam from biological and fisheries science perspectives. The number of times I have said that can’t be counted, the background literature review is unending, and the questioning and requestioning of how I’ll approach the issue has left my head spinning for months. Yet I don’t think I once stopped to really think about what it would actually be like to live in Vietnam.

At this current moment, I can hear the clang of a bell as a man pushes a garbage cart down the street, a cat incessantly mewing, horns honking, some sort of wind chime, the pop of electrical wires, and people shouting. I am in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, the country’s second largest city. I will be in Northern Vietnam for about a week to meet with some of Project Seahorse’s colleagues before I travel south towards my research location.

Having never been to Asia before, I was in awe of Vietnam before I even got off of the plane. When we finally broke through the low-lying clouds, I could see endless green farms, large ponds, and long red dirt roads occupied by zipping motorbikes. My face jammed against the window, I watched tiny villages of tall, red-roofed houses go by – “I’m here!” I thought, smiling. It seemed idyllic, spacious – I imagined myself like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love bicycling along the road.

I wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming the city would be. In the car from the airport, Vietnam smacked me right in the face. People, motorbikes, trucks all crammed together and moving, constantly moving past concrete buildings built side-by-side. “What have I got myself into…” I thought. But when I arrived at the hotel, the staff was so lovely and helpful that I was full of relief. I felt refreshed, and I went out to explore the city.

I surprised myself; despite the noise and activity, I felt completely calm. The whir just goes on around me, and I manage to find my way through it. I’ve already tried several local dishes, and of course springrolls at every chance I get! The food is delicious, cheap, and plentiful. I’m looking forward to four and a half months of eating Vietnamese food, and all of the new experiences I’ll have. Oh yeah – and why am I here again? To find seahorses… Right. Can’t forget about the science, too!