Is all coffee “Vietnamese coffee” in Vietnam?
The question came teasingly as I FaceTimed a friend from a coffee shop in Hanoi as I savoured my first sip of caffeine since December.
“Is all coffee ‘Vietnamese coffee’ since you’re in Vietnam?”.
Before you go lambasting my friend, please be advised I had told them I was reintroducing myself to coffee not through an espresso or cappuccino but a distinctly Vietnamese creation: egg coffee. Espressos and cappuccinos were options on the menu — Italian-influenced drinks are often listed on any coffee shop menu, even in Vietnam! — hence the teasing (however it should be noted that the beans are grown and roasted here).
It does bring up a question though that’s been rolling around in my mind the past couple of years as I’ve traveled around the world, one I’ve been mulling my whole life. My friend had unintentionally raised an interesting question by asking what makes Vietnamese coffee Vietnamese: What defines identity? Or given my birthplace and the recent inauguration in America: What makes someone an American?
If I’m to use the espresso/coffee bean example on the most basic level: Is it enough to be American if you are born, raised, and live in America, even if your roots, no matter how distant or recent, are from somewhere else in the world? While your origins may be Italian, you have an Italian name, and on the surface you look to be an Italian, you actually have every right to call yourself an American.
Granted it’s not that simple as this coffee metaphor. It’s a lot easier for the majority of the world to accept a stereotypically-looking Italian person as an American because of their whiteness rather than acknowledge that an Asian-looking woman can be an American — but maybe it is that simple.
Maybe it’s as simple as acknowledging that the world has become more interconnected than ever, and the beauty of this is that people from all over can move and migrate and pursue an opportunity to seek a better life for themselves and their families, searching for a better future. Maybe it’s as simple as acknowledging that much of America is built on being a melting pot of people and diversity, whether intentionally through immigration, from 300 years ago to now, or forcefully through slavery. That if you truly want to get technical about who is actually an “American”, then the only people who have that right are the Native Americans who’ve been uprooted and torn away from their ancestral land.
What does it mean to be an American?
I am still figuring that out. Despite living in Sydney, I still identify first as a “New Yorker” and last as an “American”. It feels shameful to identify as American given the current government (regime is likely a more accurate descriptor) and I don’t want to be associated with its values (can they really be called values? It feels wrong to even use the word “values” here - corrupt ideologies feels more apt). But isn’t that what they want, to associate “American” with whiteness, maleness, and fear instead of diversity, equality, and freedom? What might it be like to take back ownership of what it means to be an American, to remember that there’s so much more to what it means to be American and what America stands for rather than what we see happening right now?
“Yes,” I laughed, “all coffee is ‘Vietnamese’ coffee in Vietnam”.
Coffee time!
Surprise but should not be a surprise: Vietnam is the second largest producer of coffee in the world (after Brazil) and the largest producer of Robusta beans. Robusta beans are the most popular coffee beans grown in Vietnam and known for their strong flavor and powerful kick (almost double the caffeine of arabica beans!).
The menu at Loading T Cafe.
I originally associated Vietnamese coffee as only coffee + condensed milk, but I quickly founded out there is so much more than that. There are so many unique creations invented in Vietnam and served in their numerous coffee shops - though I can only speak for Hanoi from personal experience. I love love love Vietnamese coffee and am so glad that it was my reintroduction to coffee. An overview of my experience so far, although it should be noted that I have sampled the tiniest fraction of the menu and visited the tiniest fraction of coffee shops in Hanoi:
Egg coffee: Coffee topped with whipped egg yolks and condensed milk. You may balk at the mere mention of egg, but it is a creamy frothy creation that tastes like a luscious and frothy whipped cream. This Vietnamese creation was invented by Nguyen Van Giang in 1946 during French colonization when milk was scarce.
My favorite: A deliciously caramelized version at Loading T Cafe.
Salt coffee: Coffee topped with salted cream and condensed milk. Not as sweet as egg coffee and reminds me a bit of Starbucks’ salted cold foam.
My favorite: my first and only at Hidden Gem Coffee.
Coconut coffee: Coffee blended with coconut cream and condensed milk, topped with toasted coconut flakes. I believe you can get this hot or iced; I only tried the iced version and found it just okay.
Espresso with condensed milk: Exactly what it says. Why would you use milk when you can use condensed milk?!
My favorite: my first and only at Tranquil Books & Coffee (note there are multiple locations).
My favorite coffee shop is Hidden Gem Coffee because of its trifecta of beautiful venue, delicious coffee, and (in my opinion) the best vegan banh mi in Hanoi.
Third time’s a charm: Laughter yoga in Hanoi
The first time I heard of laughter yoga, or laughing yoga, was when I volunteered at a yoga and meditation center in Pokhara, Nepal.
Laughter yoga was part of the daily schedule for those volunteering at and attending the center’s yoga and meditation retreat. We’d all sit in the outdoor courtyard, watching the owner lead us through multiple rounds of laughter yoga. We started sitting cross-legged on our mats, heaving big fake belly laughs as we waved our arms up above our heads and then slammed them down to the mat. The first several laughs were fake but as I listened to everyone hemming and hawing around me, my laughter turned real as I basked in the joy filling up the courtyard. Another type of laughter yoga was practiced on our backs, legs and arms moving in the air as if pedaling a bicycle or cranking a gear (or flailing around like a flipped bug) as we again heaved great big laughs, making them as hysterical or as wacky as we wanted, slowly transforming them from fake into real laughter.
The second time I practiced laughter yoga was at my yoga teacher training in Doi Saket, a town about an hour east of Chiang Mai in Thailand. That time we danced and moved wildly in circles, making wild, hysterical sounds of laughter as we zoomed in and out of the shala, creating funny faces as we looked at each other, and turning our fake laughs into peals of joy.
I take a deep breath of fresh air as I step outside my hostel in Hanoi, grateful to be away from the humidity and stale air of the dorm. It’s my first day waking up before 6 am since ending teacher training in January, and I’m excited to get back into a daily routine of early mornings, moving my body and being outside before the city comes to life with the beeps of passing motorbikes and the chatter of hawkers.
Today is the Lantern Festival, the 15th day of the Lunar New Year when the moon is full in the sky. In Chinese culture, and back at home with my parents, we eat 團圓 (tang yuan), glutinous rice balls filled with a sweet filling, red bean, peanut, or black sesame, that are as white and round as the full moon. It’s the first year — maybe ever — where I haven’t had plans for New Year, but never mind: I soak in the red decorations, colorful lanterns, and painted Chinese characters that frame shops on the street because the Vietnamese celebrate the Lantern festival too. I’ve already noticed many similarities between Vietnamese, at least in Northern Vietnamese, and Chinese culture during my first week, here. Part of it is likely due to prolonged Chinese rule of Vietnam from 111 BCE - 939 CE which influenced Vietnamese language, religion, and art.
I begin my walk around Hoan Kiem lake but at the last second decide I’m going to be rebellious and walk counterclockwise so I can people watch people’s faces rather than people’s backs. As I walk around the lake I notice the grannies and older ladies dancing and exercising to the blare of music from large boomboxes you typically see on stage at a high school auditorium. They are still going about their morning routine despite today’s rain - some are moving underneath the shelter of the trees’ branches, others are dancing under the overhang of nearby stores.
I veer a bit off course and wander into the French Quarter away from the lake. Five steps in and it doesn’t look interesting, so I make a plan to turn around at the next intersection when suddenly I hear peals of laughter: a group of grannies are gathered in a circle, raising and lowering their hands while launching into big belly laughs.
This group meets at 6am every morning for laughing yoga. Due to the rain, they’ve moved location to the sheltered overhang of a nearby department store where I stumble upon them. I approach with a big smile on my face - their joy is contagious and it’s hard not to catch it. They invite me in their circle and I join, echoing their movements in their version of laughing yoga. I feel their joy and their sisterhood as they move their bodies and chant and laugh to welcome the day. We hold hands and dance in a circle; we give each other back massages in a massage train; we close our eyes with hands in prayer as we give thanks for this moment.
Afterwards one of the ladies asks me where I’m from, and I say “Taiwan” - I’ve learned that usually when someone asks me the question “where are you from?” what they really want to know is “why do you look they way you do (Asian)?”. Another woman comes over and shares that she can speak Chinese, so we begin to chat and get to know one another. I’ve always been glad to speak another language, but I’ve never been as grateful to speak Chinese in a non Chinese-speaking country. While traveling in Vietnam, I’ve encountered several locals who speak Chinese (with a Taiwanese accent!) and as result I’ve had more meaningful conversations than if I’d spoken only English. My Chinese enables me to form a connection with Hai, and learn more about her group of laughing yoga practitioners.
Other grannies come over and distribute oranges and cookies and red envelopes to celebrate the Lantern Festival. One smiles and presses oranges in my hand - I feel a sense of familiarity and community, as if I’m being welcomed home. The ladies eagerly wave me over to join their photos to commemorate this morning’s practice. We pose and I marvel at how they all know how to set up their best angle, popping an ankle or flaring an elbow to get the most flattering photo.
Soon it’s time to disperse - the ladies to the rest of their day and me to the rest of my walk. I’m invited to come back tomorrow and join for another round. I feel at home.
Ninh Binh, Vietnam
Ninh Binh was at the top of my list when planning my trip to northern Vietnam. I’d heard it called the “Ha Long Bay on land” with lush rice paddies and peaceful rivers weaving their way through rolling mountains. On travel blogs (my primary source of research) Ninh Binh was often recommended as an alternative to Ha Long Bay given Ha Long Bay’s notoriety for being overcrowded with tourists and pollution.
Out of the three days I was there I only got one day of sun and clear weather which resulted in the stunning photo at the top of this post. It’s hard to plan a trip around weather when there’s limited time, so I tried to be present and not be peeved at something I couldn’t control. Like many things in life, it’s all about luck and timing 🤷🏻♀️. Once I got over my desire to control every aspect of the trip and have the “perfect” itinerary in Ninh Binh, I started to have fun and appreciate the beauty around me.
I love lists (type A much?) and while I’d compiled a Google Doc of “Things to Do” and “What to See”, I ended up chucking that out of the window. I tried my hardest to let go of expectations (this is why I tend to avoid looking at or Googling photos of places I visit) and just be present. Rather than crossing off each attraction on my list, I took advantage of my homestay’s free bike rental and roamed around the countryside, taking random turns onto unpaved roads and veering off into hidden alleyways, giving myself permission to just explore.
And oh, how freeing it was to release myself of expectations of what my time in Ninh Binh “should” be and what “needed” to be seen. I’d forgotten the joy of wandering, of being open to whatever opportunity comes and being curious of what is around the corner. I’d forgotten the feeling of exhilaration that comes with the wind blowing in my face when riding a bike, a feeling that called back to when I first rode a bike post-diagnosis - that feeling of freedom and aliveness that can only be captured while in movement and breathing in the fresh air of the outdoors.
It’s not to say I completely rid myself of expectations and perfectionism - there’s too much history there to be gone in one go. But it was a lesson and a reminder of how life can be so much easier when I let go and release my stubborn hold of control, when I allow myself to permit even the tiniest amount of space for freedom and the pursuit of joy over perfectionism.
Recommendations
Trang An Boat Tour - the #1 tourist attraction in Ninh Binh but well worth it.
Do
Give yourself permission to wander and explore rather than checking things off your list. Rent a bike (or maybe your lodging has a free bike rental!) and bike around the countryside. Or rent a motorbike / scooter if you want to travel longer distances in shorter times - this definitely gives you more accessibility.
Climb up to the Hang Mua viewpoint on a clear day to get gorgeous views of Ninh Binh (the first photo of the post is taken from Hang Mua viewpoint).
Other activities I did: Trang An boat tour, Van Long Wetland Nature Reserve boat tour, wandering around Tam Coc.
Coming out of a cave on the Van Long Wetland Nature Reserve boat tour.
Eat
Pho, nem (fried spring rolls), bun cha, beef/tofu noodle salad (this is more similar to bun cha than a salad). In my experience in Ninh Binh, fried rice used frozen veggies (that carrot pea medley!) and fried noodles meant fried instant noodles, so I avoided ordering those dishes.
I wasn’t blown away by anything I ate, probably because I spent more time looking at Google Reviews trying to find the “perfect” spot rather than choosing a spot to eat. A word of caution: many Google reviews of restaurants here are inflated as owners will ask (and sometimes pressure) customers to post a 5-star review. While I can understand the need to build and grow a business, as a customer I find it difficult to accurately parse out what is “good”. But maybe this means I should rely less on Google and more on the “old” way of traveling - roll up to a random spot and be open to whatever experience I get, good or bad or neutral.
However! I did really enjoy Tam Coc Noodle Soup Restaurant. I probably am biased because I tend to like and remember places where I have positive experiences, even if the food is mediocre, and I think of this restaurant fondly because the Vietnamese chef speaks Chinese with a Taiwanese accent (he lived in Taiwan for several years). It felt like coming home, being able to speak my family’s language and listen to the familiar tones and sounds of Taiwan.
Meal with a friend at Tam Coc Noodle Soup Restaurant. Pictured here are vegetarian rice cake soup (above; rice cakes are not like Chinese/Korean rice cakes but are rice noodles), stir-fried morning glory, and bun cha noodle soup (below; with meat). During a second visit I ordered the beef noodle salad and preferred that over their bun cha.
Seating area at Green Mountain Homestay
Stay
It’s more important to choose your location rather than your lodging. What experience are you looking for?
Trang An: quieter and in the countryside. Requires transportation (bike or motorbike) to get to attractions. Restaurants are nearby but not as densely packed as Tam Coc.
Tam Coc: the touristy area, although I think you can choose somewhere more on the outskirts. Lots of places to eat and shop.
Tip! Ninh Binh is the region; Trang An, Truong Yen, and Tam Coc are towns within Ninh Binh.
There are so many places to stay, and I found it very overwhelming! So much so that I sent my friend a voice note asking them for help narrowing down the choices. The main thing here is that you generally can’t go wrong with your accommodation choice (as long as you do your research and look at reviews - I recommend looking across two platforms, e.g. Google and Booking.com, as some places have inflated or “fake” reviews).
The things I prioritized when choosing accommodation: free bike rentals, a serene seating area to relax and read, and a private cabin-esque room with its own bathroom. I chose to stay at Green Mountain Homestay.
Tip! Contact the accommodation directly via WhatsApp to see if they can offer a better price than what’s available on third-party booking platforms.
I loved my private cabin at Green Mountain homestay and wish I took advantage of the lounge chairs - it was simply too cold whilst I was there!
I felt like a queen staying here after living in a dorm for a month!
I ran away to France
I ran away to France this summer.
That sounds dramatic and while it is a form of truth, I’m learning how to reframe my story in a way that is empowering, which feels especially important given this tumultuous summer. If I were to rewrite that first sentence, I’d write my story like this: I pursued an exciting work opportunity in France despite receiving devastating news that would have significant implications for the rest of my life. Sure, being thousands of miles away from a place associated with tears and reality didn’t hurt but I still forged forward with my goals. The stories you tell yourself have such a powerful impact on how you think on the past.
I spent most of my time in France in Blois, a small town in the Loire Valley, which is famous for its wine, cheese, and châteaux (castles). I was on a one month work exchange at a luxury bed and breakfast working together with the owner to look after the guests and take care of the property. Maison Loire is beautiful and elegant - the image that comes to mind when you imagine “cozy French luxury in the countryside”. The bed and breakfast housed in a renovated 19th century home that is filled with antiques carefully curated by the owners Nicolas and Alexander, whose own love story also started in the Loire Valley.
Most people’s reaction to my plans of going to France was, “What is a work exchange?”. I didn’t find this surprising as I wasn’t aware of this type of opportunity until I started backpacking internationally post university, and those who had never heard of a work exchange before were all American.
A work exchange is exactly what it sounds: you work in exchange for something, and that something can be room, board, money, or some sort of combination of the three. It’s actually quite a popular concept outside of the US (I have my own thoughts on why that’s the case); many recent university graduates will use work exchange as an opportunity to travel the world and explore different cultures in a cost-effective manner.
However it’s not just university grads - I’ve met people of all ages, backgrounds, and educations who participate in work exchange for a variety of reasons, whether that’s to have a budget-friendly vacation, explore a career break or transition, or support themselves this way indefinitely. If you’re interested in trying it out for yourself (you are never too old!) you can check out Worldpackers, Workaway, or WOOFing, the latter of which is focused exclusively on organic farming. These are the most popular work exchange websites and each has its own pros and cons.
Work exchange is such a cool and budget-friendly opportunity to familiarize yourself with the local culture and meet new people, and it’s a pity that not more people in the US are aware of this possibility. My theory is that we Americans as a society tend to focus on a very specific definition of “success” that emphasizes prestige, income, and status, which means we’re not as open to something like a work exchange that might “derail” our careers because it’s not a conventional path.
This is a generalization, I know, but I can’t help but think about how many Americans never take a gap year or think about other types of education outside of a traditional four year secondary institution. Granted there are a lot of caveats around this: not everyone has the privilege or means to even consider these opportunities in the first place - this applies to a very specific demographic of people. The more I travel the more I become educated - I see all the different types lifestyles that are possible. I see all the different ways it means to be “successful”. I see all the lives I can live.
While a significant amount of my time in France was spent being depressed (lol), I did spend some time exploring the Loire Valley and other parts of France. After all, in the wise words of Taylor Swift: I can do it with a broken heart.
Sitting with Bébé on my last day at Maison Loire.
Postcards from France:
A post about people
I woke up filled with so much gratitude - gratitude to be alive and living, gratitude to have the courage, determination, and resources to take this extended time off, and gratitude for the kindness of humans who live on this beautiful planet. I want to take the time to capture this moment so that whenever I need reassurance or inspiration I can look back on this entry and remind myself of this feeling.
A moment of feeling so incredibly joyful and alive. Kaindy Lake, Kazakhstan.
I struggled a bit when first arriving to Kazakhstan. I was already a little burnt out and arriving to a country where I couldn’t easily communicate with others was challenging and lonely. It made me really appreciate what my parents went through when immigrating to the US and learning how to navigate their way in a foreign land. This could be a whole other journal entry but long story short, I feel humbled by and so proud of how much they’ve achieved and their success in creating a beautiful life for themselves and their family (me!) in America.
It’s also been a while since I’ve backpacked for an extended period of time - while I’ve frequently gone on vacation by myself, those vacations have been three weeks at most (US vacation policy is not that generous) whereas the last time I backpacked and traveled in this way was back in 2015! I’m also a recovering perfectionist, so it was hard to not feel like I needed to create a plan of action for every moment of my time in Central Asian and beyond in order to maximize my time abroad. As a result I’ve been slowly remembering what it’s like to be a “backpacker”, slowly but surely regaining my footing and finding my rhythm again.
Initially I was worried that I wouldn’t get to meet people with whom I’d feel an instant connection - maybe I’d already used up all of my bonus points after building my community and forming deep friendships back home. Now I look at this sentence and laugh at myself - how silly it seems to read out loud but how real it felt when fear and anxiety was taking over.
Someone recently told me that the people you meet while traveling are often more memorable than the places you see (thank you, Aunt Gigi). While I intellectually knew this to be true, it didn’t quite hit me until this morning. As much as the world can be a scary place, I’m realizing just how beautiful our world can be thanks to the people you meet.
I recently finished a two day tour with Steppe Spirit, a Kazakh community-based tour company, and had an amazing time experiencing the beauty of Kazakhstan with travelers from all over the world. We all had a really good time just enjoying each other’s company. I bonded with other backpackers who are exploring the world (and themselves) and danced with fellow travelers to celebrate the joy of journeying together. I’ve met elders who see me as their American daughter and take care of me with care and affection. While Couchsurfing I’ve met generous locals who went out of their way to make sure I felt warmly welcomed in their home country and who want to pay things forward because of previous kindnesses shown to them.
I’m feeling inspired by and grateful for the people I’m meeting while traveling. I’m building friendships with other backpackers with share values and who are embarking on gap year (or years!) for similar reasons as me, so we end up having enlightening conversations about life and purpose. Often times I leave the conversation feeling more inspired to continue my journey or try an uncharted path.
At times it even feels like a meeting of the souls. In just this year, these types connections have formed all over the world in Antarctica, Africa, and Almaty, so I think I can use this time to remind myself that it is possible to meet like-minded, friendly, and authentic people wherever you go. It might take a bit of extra effort, a pinch of extra courage, or a little extra time, but it will happen. Not every friendship will be an intimate one, but even the fleeting ones can be meaningful.
I hope to meet these people again somewhere else in the world. And if we don’t have that opportunity or if the friendship fades over time, it still warms my heart knowing that we’ve had a positive impact on each other’s lives, even if it’s just for a brief moment in time.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my community back home as my friends and family have been such a source of love and support, and they make my time abroad even more meaningful. While traveling has given me the opportunity to meet other travelers, it’s also made me further appreciate the people who make up my home.
It may seem corny bit it seems that human connections enhance the beauty of my surroundings, and those connections make my time on Earth all the more meaningful. How wonderful it is to have such a big family, one filled with people all around the world.
A bittersweet parting: Goodbye Africa
In just a few short days, I’ll be leaving Africa to head to Central Asia. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve spent a little over two months in Africa - some days it feels like I’ve been living here for six months and other days it feels like it was only yesterday that I arrived.
Africa has been on my bucket list for a long time, and I’m so grateful for the time I’ve spent exploring southern and eastern Africa, expanding my worldview and curbing my ignorance about this massive continent. I learned that while we in the West might delineate southern and eastern Africa by its international borders (Zimbabwe, Namibia, Zambia…), most Africans identify themselves by their tribes and the borders are merely just arbitrary lines. In fact, many people in southern and eastern Africa descend from the Bantu and thus share many similarities in their languages and customs. This is not to say that this region of Africa is solely comprised of Bantu-speaking people - there are thousands of tribes, all with unique cultures and histories, which is why I find this land to be a fascinating place to explore and learn.
I’ve learned so much from my time here - about the history, the people, the culture, and myself. I’ve seen the most beautiful landscapes that I’ve only dreamed (or Google-d) about, encountered majestic wild animals up close, and witnessed countless sunrises, sunsets, and glittering night skies. I’ve embraced African food and have had countless meals where I desperately wish I had a second stomach so I could eat more. I’ve absorbed so many facts about flora and fauna, learned about the many tribes and the impacts of colonization, and chatted with locals as they showed me around their villages. I’ve surprised myself by making genuine long-lasting friendships (I’ll be spending Christmas in Sydney!), being strangely flexible with unpredictable travel mishaps, and questioning some long-held beliefs about how the world works.
My time in Africa has been joyful, satisfying, incredible and yet sometimes frustrating. I’ve often been the only East Asian-presenting person wherever I’m traveling, which means I’m often at the receiving end of a random string of words that are supposed to “represent” what an Asian language sounds like. I’m often questioned about where I’m from, no - where I’m actually from, and if I’m sure I’m not from [insert some Asian country that’s not my own]. It’s mentally exhausting but I try to just smile and wade through it because it’s likely not coming from a place of malicious intent and for personal safety reasons. It’s been an interesting experience and one that contributes to my internal musings of what is identity.
It’s been a while since I’ve updated the blog thanks to a combination of poor (or lack of) internet, food poisoning, and minor travel snafus - so what have I been up to over the past month?
Some highlights - and memorable moments - include:
Summiting Kilimanjaro - just happened!
Marveling at the abundance of wildlife and sharing that joy with friends
Getting my shirt stolen by a monkey
The monkey also made off with a pair of boxer briefs that were also hanging on our laundry line, so somewhere in Zambia a monkey is looking quite dapper
Literally walking with rhinos - blog post in the works
Sleeping in a hotel after 40 days of living in a tent
Getting food poisoning but luckily camping near a very nice toilet
Dancing with the locals in the Usambara Mountains
Watching a lioness and her cubs feast on a wildebeest in the Serengeti - blog post in the works
Having our 4x4 vehicle break down in the middle of a safari game drive… at night - blog post in the works
Being invited to a local’s home for dinner in Malawi
Feeling exhilarated and terrified getting up close and personal with lions - blog post in the works
More to (slowly) come - I’ll update this page with links as more content gets published. As the locals would say in Swahili, “pole pole”, which means “slowly, slowly”. Jotting down my thoughts on this blog has been a helpful exercise in reflecting on my time in Africa, and I hope it’s inspired you to come visit.
First up: Cape Town (& big feelings)
Well this week has been an interesting one! It’s been a whirlwind of events including my combined bon voyage and (very early) birthday party, my last day at work, packing up my Brooklyn apartment and moving things to storage, frantically packing and repacking my bags, and to trying to soak up these last couple of days of being with family and friends.
As a result, this week’s been one of mixed emotions - feelings of anxiety, exhilaration, sadness, excitement, gratitude, and just plain being scared. Throughout the past month, and this week especially, I’ve been reminding myself that all of these feelings are normal and as my friends like to remind me, if I wasn’t feeling anxious or scared about a big trip like this, then that’s when there’d be something for them to worry about!
I’m a champion at not dealing with “big emotions” and instead focusing on surface anxieties that are seemingly easier to manage. Here are just some of the more superficial anxieties that have been running through Dino May’s mind (this is what I call the May who goes through analysis paralysis):
Did I pack too little? Did I pack too much?
Both of these questions meant unpacking and repacking and re-rolling my clothes in different shapes, taking out and putting in new items, and consulting my Excel spreadsheet multiple times while Ugly Betty played in the background.
I’ve finally acknowledged that despite all the back and forth, packing and repacking, I will be packing more clothes than I normally would for a regular backpacking trip. During the past several trips I’ve regretted not packing more casual/nice clothes on non-trekking days to feel more “human” (aka not looking like a “backpacker” 24/7). Also I completely forgot how much space a sleeping bag & co (sleeping pad, pillow, liner) take up!
Conclusion: It’s not like I can’t just buy something if I really need it or discard something if it’s weighing me down! There’s no perfect way to pack for a year-long trip to abroad, though I’ll be keeping you posted on whether or not some items discarded/donated in favor of a lighter pack. Current weight is ~27 lbs not including my daypack but does include two large bottles of special contact solution. I did however do a last minute addition of a Smartwool hiking socks because I got panicked after reading REI’s1-2-3-4-5-6 rule for packing light:.
Is my backpack too big?
This happened very recently (two days ago!) and led to frantic and panicked audio messages to my cousin (thank you for letting me rant out loud). Keep in mind that I had done extensive research on backpacks yet the last minute jitters came on strong!
I felt so uncertain that I conducted a last minute dash to REI to consult with a product specialist (shoutout to Kevin) who helped reconfirm that I purchased the right size backpack. I should’ve trusted the May of three months ago rather than the May whose anticipatory anxiety is manifesting right at this moment.
Conclusion: The Osprey Aura AG 65L seems to be the right backpack for me. I was looking for a backpack that would work for a multi-day thru hike, be reservoir compatible, contain a separate sleeping bag compartment, include a rain cover, and have a comfortable yet sturdy harness. The Aura AG consistently came up as one of the best backpacks. It’s also available in the 50L (the size I used to have) so Dino May was trying to decide if she should exchange for the 50L instead a mere three days before flying out of the country.
Fun note: I decided to donate my previous backpacking backpack after a beautiful 8 year long relationship together across 5 continents. I purchased it way back during my GLOBE days in Hong Kong from a random mountaineering store!
Will my checked-in backpack make it through to Cape Town?
The anxiety was heightened when I found out that there is a strike going on at the Heathrow terminal where I’m laying over - welp.
Conclusion: All I can do is trust in the universe - this is entirely out of my control.
And the list continues - “what if, what if, what if?”. A friend and I were laughing over this recently as this is very much an ex-consultant mentality of trying to optimize for every single possible scenario, which is obviously impossible and unhelpful. That’s the inner perfectionist coming out that needs to be tamed!
^ How it feels like it’s going. Photo from the Polar Plunge in Antartica
So what’s up besides big feelings?
First up is Cape Town!
I’ll be flying into Cape Town with a couple of layovers (looking for those budget deals now that I have no income 😅). Keeping your fingers crossed for me that all goes smoothly!
I have several days in Cape Town to adjust to and get comfortable with this next chapter, but I’m also really excited to just explore the city. South Africa has been on my destination bucket list for a while but I’ll only be visiting Cape Town, at least this time around. I’ve had absolutely nothing planned because I’ve been so focused on getting to this point and planning the higher level things such as health insurance (very important lol) and personal finances. But I’m proud of myself for at least researching how to get from the airport to my hostel (in case you’re wondering, best option is Uber or taxi - the airport shuttle got shut down because of lack of ROI).
So far I’ve gotten some great recommendations from friends - thank you Jimmy, Eric, and Hein! If you have any recs or just want to send some well wishes, please share them below.
Bon voyage! 🤞
Empty nester
The close of one chapter and beginning of another - getting ready to say goodbye to New York
No, I don’t have kids. I just literally have an empty nest - or almost an empty nest.
The move, part I.
I’m in the process of moving out of my apartment and moving back to my parents’ home, so the apartment is becoming an empty nest.
This content is not as exciting as waddling penguins or diving humpback whales, but it’s a meaningful moment for my upcoming journey. I have a feeling that I’ll want to look back on this moment and remember all the feelings - a mix of being scared, anxious, excited, and overwhelmed. Disbelief that it’s really happening and bittersweet because this apartment has been a home full of precious memories - egg freezing during COVID and being confined to the apartment’s four walls, hosting dinner parties for friends to celebrate the holidays or our friendship, putting in loving care to create a beautiful sanctuary.
This moment is a pause, and ending, and a beginning. A pause because - I’ll be back, New York! An ending because this period of time in my life is drawing to a close. A beginning because the next adventure is about to begin.
The early days of move-in, back when pandemic days were still a thing.
My favorite place in the apartment - the colorful cozy living room. Home.
How much of an apartment can you fit in a backpack?
