130 days later

Not going to lie - I began writing this post over two months ago. For the majority of my time in Vietnam, I lived in constant anticipation and calculation of the end of my field season.

During my first two months, a desperate desire to leave Vietnam overwhelmed me … which made me shocked and disappointed in myself. How could I be feeling like this? I fell head over heels for New Zealand - I made lifelong friends, survived a deadly earthquake, and saw staggeringly beautiful landscapes. South Africa stole my heart and still has it locked away deep amongst dolphins and drums and desert. I thought I was an adventurous soul, ready to be won over by my next foreign living experience. But Vietnam? It wasn't wooing me.

Perhaps it was the fact that I was stuck on an island, unable to explore other places. Perhaps it was the remoteness of fieldwork and my own dedication to data collection; a self-induced isolation. Perhaps it was the lack of English speakers – or rather the lack of English speakers that stuck around for longer than two days at a time – that left me starved of social interaction and a close group of companions. Whatever it was, the combination was making me anxious, homesick, and lonely.

Things turned around after about two months of living on Phu Quoc, when I knew I was on the downhill, and also when I took a weeklong vacation to Cambodia. I forced myself to appreciate all of the unique experiences I was having, and I got used to being alone with my thoughts (and dead seahorses). I had valuable time for contemplation, meditation, and mental re-organizing. Something I haven't ever taken the time to do. I surrounded myself with Vietnamese families so I could feel like I was part of a home, despite understanding none of their conversations.

Vietnamese people are wonderful. They are friendly and generous, quick to share a drink or a meal, helpful and honest, simple and happy. There are plenty of reasons to love this country – from the people, to the places, the history, the food. But my time here has made me realize something I'd taken for granted previously; that "happiness is only real when shared" (a quote from Christopher McCandless).

I think I’ve learned more about myself, grown more, and faced more challenges in this living abroad experience than I ever have before. I’m relieved to have reached the end and to be returning to my beloved Vancouver, but looking back is an incredible feeling. The sting of loneliness is a fading memory, but I’ll have to think twice about my PhD research – next time I want to be a part of a team … or at least on a more populated island.
 

Things I'll miss about Vietnam:
- lizards running up my walls
- not feeling obligated to say anything after someone sneezes
- zipping around on my motorbike
- spring rolls
- mangos!
- $1 fresh smoothies
- bun bo nam bo and bun cha gio (my favourite VN meals)
- cheap cell phone plans
- the ocean and beaches of Phu Quoc
- my friends and families on the island
- adorable street puppies

Things I won't miss about Vietnam:
- incessant horn honking and uncontrolled traffic
- monsoon rain
- ants, cockroaches, bed bugs
- being yelled at everywhere I go
- garbage everywhere and the overwhelming feeling of being incapable of changing it
- Vietnamese music

The more I see of the world, the less I realize I have seen. 

As much as I'm looking forward to being back in Canada, I know I'll be back on the road again soon enough. 

Changing Perspectives

When I left Phu Quoc, it was with a bit of nostalgia, but mostly an utter sense of relief. I flew from Phu Quoc to Hanoi and took some time off to enjoy Vietnam.

My first stop was Sapa, a town in northern Vietnam where tourism is booming. Set amongst green mountains layered with rice paddies, the area is stunning. Sapa itself is an overrun, unregulated tourist town, but provides the start point for epic adventures. Northern Vietnam is home to 26 ethnic tribes, who are considered second-class citizens by the government. Politics aside, these people have incredible histories, culture and lifestyles, and experiencing their way of life is a unique and rewarding experience.

I met up with my beloved Swiss friends Stephanie and Simon (who I met in Cambodia) and we did a two-day trek and homestay with Chan, who is of the Black H'mong tribe. Chan led us over mountains in the fog and rain to her home village, Tavan, where we spent the night with her family. She speaks fantastic English and was able to teach us all about her tribe, and other similar tribes. We were fascinated by the clothes worn by the H'mong, which are made from hemp (which they grow) and dyed with indigo (which they also grow), then decorated with elaborate embroidery. The entire process can take a year to complete.

Trekking past awe-inspiring views.

Trying on local clothing at the market.

On our third day in Sapa, we rented motorbikes and cruised along the highest road in Vietnam and through one of the most incredible mountain passes I've ever seen. We spent the afternoon with Lao Cai people, whose language, culture, and dress is completely different to the H'mong.

Stunning views at Heaven's Gate.

Chatting with Lao Cai in a house built for six families.

I adored Sapa. I wish I'd had more time to stay ... But I think I'll be back in the future!

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TOURISTS. TOURISTS. TOURISTS.

That is the best way to describe Halong Bay. Yes - it is incredibly beautiful and geographically unique. But it's not worth being put on a tourism conveyer belt with 15,000 other people. The only part that was worthwhile was when we went kayaking in a remote area with less people (but still about five boats and forty people).

My friend Ali and I enjoying a tandem kayak away from the hustle and bustle.

Typical Halong Bay view: monstrous limestone karsts, and ugly tour boats.

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I returned to the Research Institute of Marine Fisheries in Haiphong for my final week. When I first arrived in Haiphong at the beginning of April, the madness of motorbike traffic terrified me. Now, I'm able to wake up at 6am and walk blurry eyed into a constant stream of honking, chugging motorbikes like it's nothing. I can hop on the back of a friend's bike and not blink an eye as we drive head-on into oncoming traffic.

Morning motorbike selfie

It's amazing how much my perspective has changed. My first impression of Haiphong was a dirty dull city, and now my eyes seek out well-built mansions, swanky cars, well-dressed people. The city seems cleaner, wealthier, more beautiful compared to the poor and decrepit areas I've been in.

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I managed to squeeze in one last adventure by taking a ferry from Haiphong to Cat Ba Island. It's very close to Halong Bay and experiences quite a bit of tourism, but I was there for one reason only: rock climbing.

I brought my gear with me to Vietnam in the hopes that I'd have some climbing opportunities - but the sport is so new here that I was left staring longingly at beautiful rock faces all summer, while my shoes and harness gathered dust. Cat Ba Island is one of the few places where routes have been bolted, and a company regularly takes people out climbing and even deep water soloing (where you climb straight out of the water, unharnessed, and jump back in the ocean when you finish the climb - or can't go any further). Unfortunately the tides weren't right for DWS, but I spent a day on an interesting limestone wall with five other climbers (from the US, the UK, and Switzerland). I was stoked that I finally got to put my gear to use!

Struggling my way up a 10.b after 6 months sans climbing.