I apologize, again, for dropping off the face of the earth after my last post months ago, but I have been in that sweet, comfortable normalcy that comes along with being somewhere that kind of suits you. It’s strange, being in one place for more than a year, and part of me has loved [...]]]> Dear Readers,

I apologize, again, for dropping off the face of the earth after my last post months ago, but I have been in that sweet, comfortable normalcy that comes along with being somewhere that kind of suits you. It’s strange, being in one place for more than a year, and part of me has loved it, and another parts has been itching for adventure. Well, the later half of me recently won out. I’m writing from Ho Chi Minh City. I’ll be in Vietnam for three weeks.

Outside a Chinese pagoda, outside the center of Ho Chi Minh City.

Not much has happened yet, good or bad, but I have to say that just being out of my everyday routine is so sweet that I’ve been smiling like an idiot on my flights and taxi rides and even when I walk into my tiny yet clean hotel room (it’s a windowless cell — but it’s my windowless cell, and it even has cable). I am awakened by the beauty of being away, and more excited, overwhelmed and nervous than I can say.

This place is so awake with activity. Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by an absolute sensory overload. Within a couple feet of each other, kids are playing and a is rooster jumping on cars and various women are trying to sell you sunglasses from their portable stands. The traffic feels like absolute chaos, but I have a sense the locals somehow understand it’s random, aggressive flow. The motorbikes, taxis, buses and bicycles somehow coexist here, though when they whizz by one another, they usually leave a few inches to spare. The crush of motorbikes is particularly impressive, and at every stoplight, there’s an army waiting for the change to green. In the last 24 hours, I’ve seen three adults riding on one of those mopeds. I’ve seen moms hold babies on the back of those things, and I’ve seen drivers doing everything from smoking to talking on their cell phone as they navigate the motorized zoo. The lack of rules is scary and breathtaking in its audacity. I also kind of love it, and there’s not-so-small slice of me that’s jealous.

Today, I met a lovely Austalian lady and two friendly Kiwis, and we toured a few ornate Chinese pagodas a little ways from the city center. Later, we drank a few beers together. Sitting next to these three strangers, I was blown away by how lucky I felt. I don’t care if how many friends you have — to connect with someone, especially when you’re far away from home, never gets old. It elated me more than I can say, and I floated back to my budget hotel, and didn’t even get disturbed when I lost my a bit.

It’s hours later now, and lounging on my bed thin, slightly hard foam. I have no idea what tomorrow holds, but I’m excited to get up early and see what it might be. Just like that race I did a few months ago, this place has me awake. I’ve never been here, but something about the space I’m in now is familiar. I’m so far away from home, but I feel in my skin, and it feels wonderful.

Incense at a pagoda.

This is Dave, one of the friendly travelers I met today. He's taking a look at a pagoda's intricate details.

I wasn't sure if I should even take this, but this is the reality for this kid — and many others. The poverty here is immense.