Traveling 101: Take An Axe To The Travel Frustrations

I’m a duck. That’s right, I’m a fowl with feathers that repel every droplet of water to land on my back. And if I can be a duck, so can you.

Traveling can be glamorous, without a doubt. There exists that little puff of ego that emerges when you return home and recant your tales of tramping through the jungle, zip lining through trees, and eating foods that would make your buddies from university gag.

But what about those moments, hours, even days, of chaos. Those times when you’re ready to rip your hair out and scream because your visa paperwork is an utter mess.   Because you know you got ripped off by that salesperson, just because you’re a foreigner. Or that when you say vegetarian, that means you don’t eat meat at all, and yes, fish is meat, and all you want is just something to eat for dinner before you pass out.

It’s pure frustration. And when you’re travel weary, wearing the same clothes for a week, and sucking down malaria pills like they’re candy, I’m telling you to breathe. To repel those things coming at you like water sliding off your back.

I’m telling you to take the axe that you’re ready to wield at the next person to speak to you and slam it down on those moments, those thoughts. Because you’re abroad. You’ve realized that the world is so much more than the world of your childhood, and you’ve decided to do something about it. That, in itself is an achievement. Bottling all of that frustration in the face of chaos, brings you nothing. It exhausts you and clouds the experience that you’re trying to have. So breathe, pause just for a second, and I promise the answer to that chaos will be clear as day. And if it’s not, there’s always the bigger picture—that you are where you are to experience something new, to begin or continue your odyssey.

So take an axe to it, and be a duck.

“Teacher, Everyone Says Your Hair Is Ugly”

I craned my neck this way and that way in an effort to get my hair unstuck from what I was sure was the Velcro of my backpack. A quick look to my shoulder and I am face to face, or shall I say face to palm, with someone’s hand. Embedded…..in my hair.

Having just crossed the gates to enter a scared Buddhist temple, I listened to the tour guide. In entering, I was leaving the mundane world and crossing into that which is holy….only to be poked and prodded by a stranger. As they literally pulled and petted and touched my hair, I analyzed my own reactions vs. theirs. They thought me exotic, I found their actions annoying.

However, these events have become for me, a regular occurrence. I cannot go four days without having someone touch my hair. I have literally stopped traffic and almost caused an accident due to the complexion of my skin and the hair upon my head (Not to mention the constant photos and selfies taken of me by people)

Just a couple days ago, one of my Vietnamese middle school students said the words, “Teacher, everyone says your hair is ugly”. Now, anger could have been an easy response to her claim. But first, I chose indifference. Why? Because I know her words are not true. My hair is not ugly, it’s different. And for every Vietnamese individual that says it’s unsightly, there are at least four telling me it’s beautiful and that they wished their hair could be like mine.

Then, I chose to educate. Bringing up photos of many types of hairstyles of women that looked like me. The versatility, creativity, curls, and colors. My student’s opinion was not completely changed, but her curiosity was piqued.

Living in Bac Ninh, there is no one like me. There are people that have never seen a person like me before. The way I have learned to cope with the constant staring and pointing and touching, is to realize that I am opening minds and starting conversations.

So every time I feel another hand petting my hair, I smile and respond to their questions “Yes, it’s real and thanks, I like my hair too”.

Traveling 101: The Labels Associated With You

I am tall. It’s a fact–the average height of an American woman is 5’4″ and with me standing at 5’8″, I am definitely above the average.  What was unexpected when I was younger, yet that I have learned over the years, is the way my height comes into play when interacting with others abroad.

In Vietnam, I am taller than almost everyone.  Add the fact that I wear heels regularly, and you’re suddenly standing in the presence of a giant.  It is not uncommon for me to be stared at, pointed to, and children near me jumping up and down to try and reach my height.  Somehow, that one label–tall–changes my daily interactions compared to those that are of normal height.

Yet, to be sure, my labels don’t just stop there:

woman, educated, person of color, middle-class, North American, kinky haired, near-sighted, native English speaker….

These labels and attributes unconsciously or consciously affect my communications with people when I am abroad.  More so in Vietnam than in Europe, as I am now living in an ethnically homogeneous country.  I recognize the privileges and consequences of these characteristics and at times accommodate for them.  I understand that my experience as a black, tall, near-sighted woman is going to differ from other travelers in Vietnam.  And that is what makes traveling so much fun, frustrating, and worth while….the differences!

What labels make up you?          vegetarian, religious, biracial, disabled, etc?

Meet Cheeky!

Born in Canada, raised in the States, a mother from Trinidad, and a father from Harlem….as you can see, crossing borders and clashing cultures has come as easy as breathing to me.

At 13 years old, I traveled independently of my family for the first time. It was a marine biology trip to Bermuda, where I would encounter new sounds, a new climate, and colors of every pastel with palm trees as the backdrop. Like lightening striking a tree, wanderlust was electrified into my blood.

Fast forward several years and I’m a recent college graduate, fresh out of a B.A. program in Anthropology (the study of people and cultures). Having traveled several countries in Europe and lived a year in Paris, I was ready for a new adventure. And just as quickly as that thought appeared in my mind, an English Teaching position at an international school was falling into my lap. The obvious answer to such a situation is to pack your bags, get your visa, and jump on a plane.

Within a couple months of graduation, I found myself traveling to the other side of the planet, to Vietnam! Follow me on my journey in Bac Ninh and Hanoi as another ex-pat among a population of 89 million people. This year promises to be one hell of a ride….