It's all about the Journey...

I've been travelling completely on my own for a week now, the longest since I've been away, and I am proud to say that I have survived. I hit Nha Trang tomorrow, which is supposed to be a beach much like the ones I experienced in Thailand - filled with dreds, bikinis, and drunken backpackers - so my time of solitude will be over. And now that the end is near and I'm ready to have conversations that happen outside my own head, it's kind of sad. Even though I feel that I hit my lowest point of the entire trip in Saigon, I also feel that I've entered a new phase of understanding. When there is no one to talk to, you're not feeling well enough in body or spirit to even read, and stepping outside of your guesthouse is just too overwhelming, your thoughts just tend to wander all over the place. I found myself examining all those deep dark places within my soul that normally aren't even acknowledged. I looked at past relationships, past desires, and past actions. I looked back on myself and who I was in high school, so confident in what I wanted in life and so sure that it would all work out just as I imagined. In college, the first year so intense in so many different ways and the New Zealand experience so life-changing, the uncertainty of life seemed to hit me like a sledge hammer. I seemed to come into my own, then lost myself, found a grasp on reality, and then reorganized the whole way in which I looked at the world. But no matter what, I was always in a rush to find something or someone or somewhere. I was never happy just to sit still in the life I was living. All of these things I've been sort of absent-mindedly mulling over the past five months suddenly took a front seat in my consciousness. And now I feel myself slowing down and taking the world in, feeling a place as well as seeing it, and appreciating the moment I'm in right now for whatever it is. It's pretty clique to say that I've "found myself", and in one form or another I've always been right here anyway, but I do feel that in this current incarnation I've really gotten to know myself. I am finally content on this journey of self-examination.

cofee being shelled

The scent of pine and the sharp crispness of clear, high-altitude air took me back to summers spent in Lake Tahoe, but the view I looked down upon was definitely not the family vacation spot I had grown up loving. The countryside below was dominated by coffee fields with a stream running down the middle and surrounded by mountains covered in either jungle plants or re-forested with pines. This was Vietnam, about three hours hike from the central highland city of Dalat, and I had just about killed myself getting up to this spot to see this view. When I had signed up for this all day, 17 km hike to Tiger Falls I had been assured that I'd be able to handle it even if it was labelled as a difficulty level 8 (out of 10). I believed him thinking that after walking for countless hours in all sorts of different cities I should be moderately in shape. So, ready for adventure, I met the three Swedish guys that I was supposed to keep up with all day - Christian, Fredrik, and T-bone (don't ask). At first the trail was pretty level and we had great conversation about Sweden, the States, and the various countries we had all been to since our trips began. We got along well and I was sure the day would be quite enjoyable. And then we started to actually climb the mountain and the conversation was replaced by my deep breathing and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. To my credit, I never lost sight of the boys in front and was never really too far behind, even if the guide who was bringing up the rear kept asking me if I was ok. I promised him that I was fine and ignored the feeling of faintness that was starting to make the trail ahead wiggle a bit as I guzzled my water during one of the stops. I began thinking how if I just twisted my ankle a bit I could go home. But then, amazingly enough, we reached the top. And there before us was a Su Village, a minority group that lived at the top of the mountain in order to be closer to the heavens. And though it was only a few houses built in a circle around a common courtyard, it was incredible. Sometimes in our technology-dependent world in which success has been commodified and getting a formal education is the only way one is ever going to make it "out there", here were people who had made a life without any of that and found happiness. So, when the pain of the morning climb was gone and the four of us "trekkers" sat chatting easily while munching on veggie and cheese bagette sandwiches, I looked out over the valley thinking how lucky I was to be on this journey over the mountain. The rest of the day brought us across swinging bridges straight from an Indiana Jones movie (luckily I didn't have to play the role of girlfriend-screaming-while-hanging-from-a-broken-plank), through fields of fragrent coffee plants, and past not so fragrant ponies. After climbing over two mountains we finally came to Tiger Falls...and didn't even end up seeing it. We heard it, and saw the cheesy statues of the tiger that was supposed to have lived there once, but no falls. There was also a parking lot there and a restaurant. We had trekked all day through mostly-deserted forest and we had finally arrived at this place that resembled an amusement park. It was pretty disappointing to say the least. But then, waiting for the van to come pick us up, I thought how wonderful the day had been. I mean, I had walked about 11 miles over two mountains, seen a hill tribe village and beautiful views, and met some cool guys. Even if the destination had turned out to so sad it was almost funny, this journey, this test of physical endurance, had been an experience.

Dalat city

His name was Rene and he was an Easy Rider. I was sitting on the back of his motorcycle, soundlessly gliding down the twisty mountain roads as the farmland of the valley below changed from a patchwork quilt to a reality. The cool breeze whipped my hair back and workers on the side of the road stopped to wave. It was a gorgeous day! I had first met Rene outside the Peace Hotel, my home for the two days in Dalat. He told me that he was one of the infamous Easy Riders, the best guides in the area (as touted in the Lonely Planet). He said he would take me to see the real Dalat, not just the kitschy tourist attractions that has made the little city famous. So here I was, getting to know the country. My body tired and sore from the trek the day before, I was happy just to ride along and take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the world around me. No pain involved in this journey. Everywhere we went, everyone knew Rene. Other guides would hold back when we went right up to talk to owners and workers in the various places we visited. I could feel other backpackers eyeing me with jealousy as Rene took me right up to the loom weaving blots of silk. I soon realized that "getting to know the real Dalat" was getting to see how everything that I had been enjoying in town was being made and grown. We went to see silkworms just before the cocoon stage, and then saw as those cocoons were turned into silk. As I saw every step of the coffee producing process from plant to Robust Roast, I knew a cup of coffee would never be the same ever again. We saw basket weaving, a rice noodle "bakery", onion and cabbage fields, and a rice wine distillery. It was amazing! Everything was done by hand, even the plowing and picking of the fields, as it had been done for hundreds of years. Every process I was able to witness was a journey of its own - from raw material to sellable product. More machines could have been introduced years ago with robots replacing people, and probably will be in the near future, but for now the way things are made are just as important as the actual product itself. I pondered these production journeys, continuing on my own journey of the mind, while journeying on Rene's motorcycle back up the mountain to the cooler air and city lifestyle. As my thoughts wander from one subject to another, I feel as if I have all the time in the world. All of these journeys that I've been able to experience just in the past two days are really just part of the bigger one. And when I arrive home in almost six months, finished with this year-long epic journey of the world, I know that I still won't be done. We are always on some sort of trip, big or small, and even if there are immediate destinations that we all must come to at some point, those don't really matter. When it's all about the journey (of self-exploration, of physical endurance, of production, of just being) "getting there" just isn't important.

Dalat countryside

Do I know where I'm going in life? I have no idea...but I do know it's going to be one hell of a trip!

Making rice noodles...mmmmm....

Me and the Swedish guys...we all look weird

Me and the waterfall...

Me crossing the treacherous bridge

Me underneath the waterfall...

More gorgeous countryside

Silk being made

silk worms

Taking a break from dying

The Indiana Jones rope bridge

View from my balcany

View from the top