Saying Goodbye to My Paradise-Prison

After three and a half months, I am finally leaving Phu Quoc Island – and I’m so relieved. I hope to visit someday, but I’m definitely ready to depart. It was wonderful in many ways, but it was also a very difficult experience for me.

I spent an immense amount of time alone (or what felt like alone, since no one could understand me). I had some incredibly unique experiences with Vietnamese families in remote places – but rarely did I really feel genuine warmth or love. Several awkward goodbyes with these families made that even clearer.


Yes – seahorses are interesting and fascinating, but I’m looking forward to a break from them. Especially seeing them plunked into rice wine, still alive and squirming. Week after week I have looked at dead seahorses caught by boats, and I am tired of asking them where they fished today, for how long, and at what depth. And they are tired of answering me.

You know what I really wish I could do? Rally a group of people to clean up this island. I want to teach people to dispose of garbage appropriately, and not treat the ocean as their trash can. I honestly don’t think seahorse conservation is possible when everyone poops straight into the ocean and throws all of their plastic in there too.

Enough with the moping – there are so many positive things to look back on. It was incredible to watch Phu Quoc Island change over the course of four months. I saw buildings demolished and reborn; asphalt was pressed upon red dirt to form a slowly expanding maze of roads; I saw forests burn and pepper farms rise from the ashes; I saw monthly tides dramatically alter beaches and shorelines; I saw monstrous resorts constructed along the coast. I tried new and interesting foods; I experienced raw Vietnamese life. I saw two men with three nipples, and a guy with two thumbs. I caught cleaning ladies going through all my stuff and taking pictures wearing my things, and I laughed about it. So much has happened in the last three and a half months – but it’s relieving to know it’s behind me.

After this long, I’ve got some tips for anyone travelling to Phu Quoc – so here are a few recommendations for the Ultimate Phu Quoc Vacation:

• Rent a motorbike and zip all over the island – it’s the best way to see it (and you can check out the beautiful and vibrant fishing communities - my favourite is Ganh Dau)
• Catch a sunset on long beach – bring your own beers and head further south than the tourist resorts so you can enjoy a private show!
• Allow yourself one dinner at the Night Market (it’s expensive, but has great people watching)
• Try all of the local food you can – my favourites are Bun Cha Gio (spring rolls and vermicelli noodles), Ban Mi Op La (baguette with egg, cucumber, carrot, and cilantro), Com Ca (rice and fish) and Pho of course! Don’t be hesitant when it comes to seafood.
• If you’re craving “western” food, the best pizza is at Pepper’s, and Winston’s makes a wicked burger
• Go snorkeling / scuba diving in the An Thoi islands – and try to get to one of the many private beaches on these tiny islands
• Enjoy a fresh coconut for 10,000 VND (50 cents)
• Visit the pagoda on the south of the island – the entrance is not well marked but it’s the most peaceful place on the island
• Head to KikiCoconut Beach on the east side of the island and get them to guide you through the jungle up the mountain (start early if you want to reach the top!)
• If you visit the waterfall, hike up past the main falls and enjoy the fresh water to yourself, away from the busloads of tourists
• The best bar on the island is Rory’s – usually has a good crowd of people, and the owners (Rory and Eun) are super friendly 
• If a local offers you rice wine, DRINK IT!

The Blur of Travel

There is an awful, disorienting feeling that comes from constantly shifting your location on the planet. It occurs mostly at night - waking up in a strange bed in an unfamiliar room to unrecognizable sounds and smells. In the darkness, your mind struggles to grasp ahold of reality, to plant itself firmly in a place of familiarity. Yet it cannot recollect this new room, seemingly shifting from underneath you in the stream of new places experienced each day.

You slip between confused dreams and hazy consciousness, restless and exhausted, lost and drifting. It isn't until morning that the thoughts seem to align, configure themselves, and you can remember where, exactly, you are. Yet in the days ahead, you will leave this place just as it begins to become familiar, and once again you will endure the disorientation of newness.

I've spoken with a lot of travellers about this, and more often about its opposite - when you stay somewhere for several days; long enough to unpack your backpack. One friend relishes the moment where he can uncap his toothbrush and leave it in the bathroom. Another, folding her clothes and putting them into drawers.

Recently, I've been asking fellow travellers how they'd describe this feeling in one word. A few of my friends said "security" and “comfort.” A few Irish ladies called their five-night stay in one town their “base,” while one friend described a similar situation as his "territory." One friend couldn’t put it into words – he only described it with a relaxed sigh of relief. For me, it is to "decompress," to let yourself unwind, spread out and reorganize. Others, who float through the world unanchored, are happy enough to call a three-night stay "home."

There’s nothing like continual movement to really make you appreciate a bit of time to stop and breathe.

Vietnamese Food Part IV

After three and a half months of living in Vietnam, I've started getting used to a lot of things that were  quite jarring at the beginning of my time here. Things like deafening thunderstorms, painfully awful synthesized Vietnamese karaoke music, and constantly having a sore bum from motorbiking everywhere and sitting on hard plastic chairs. Or little things that I used to always notice that seem completely normal now - like the obsession with bedazzled Apple clothing items (e.g. sweaters that glitteringly say "Authorized Dealer"), or the fact that people openly pick their noses while having conversations.

However, I can always count on new foods to keep things interesting. So here are a few unusual items I've tried in the last couple of months - and the stories that accompany them:

There is one lady in town who sells waffles from the cart she wheels around. When I first discovered her, I was SO STOKED because the waffle was delicious. But then I couldn’t find her again for weeks. When she finally did reappear, I was with An, and he asked if I wanted an “ice cream cake”… I had to explain to him that waffles are definitely not ice cream cakes. But that they do go well with ice cream. Anyway, while I was consuming my gloriously delicious treat (and taking a selfie to prove it) we stopped at a traffic light and some dude on another motorbike kept touching my leg, presumably because I have such ridiculously white slash lobster skin. It didn't even bug me though because my waffle was SODAMNTASTY!!

This is a deep fried rice-wrapped banana. Tastes like a deep-fried rice-wrapped banana. 

My friend Brittany and I trying duck tongue. It actually wasn't that bad!

My apprehensive reaction as I unwrap banana leaf to reveal a special Vietnamese treat - sticky rice and vegetables in a kind of gluey gel. Not my favourite ... I had one bite before rejecting it. 

Snails on snails on snails. I can no longer keep track of all of the different kinds of seafood I've eaten now.

One day I was sick and Thanh brought me dinner - soup in plastic bags, pineapple juice in a plastic cup in a plastic bag, and mangoes in a plastic bag. Sigh.

A common treat in both Cambodia and Vietnam, I have now eaten two duck fetuses. They taste exactly like an egg, just a bit chewier in certain places. 

Perspectives on Beauty

My mother peers through the pixelated Skype screen, asking why I'm still not tan, why my hair isn't as blonde as it was when I lived in Africa.

Meanwhile, my Vietnamese aunties and grandmothers click their tongues in disapproval each time I visit, my skin growing darker each week. They twirl my golden curls lovingly, and pull at the near-white hairs on my arms in awe, asking if we can trade.

Questions Frequently Asked of a Blonde Foreigner in Viet Nam

1. Whatyoname?
2. How old are you?
3. Where you from?
4. If you're Canadian, why aren't you taller and fatter?
5. Are you married?
6. Do you have a boyfriend?
7. Will you marry a Vietnamese man?
8. Why are you here?
9. Are there seahorses in Canada?

Bonus (less frequently asked) Questions:
1. Why you don't dye your hair black to look like everyone else?
2. How much do you weigh?
3. What is your religion?