The Post-Travel Depression Epidemic
Like most endings, my last days were not as glorious as I would have wanted them to be. For some reason, my energy was starting to run dry and I lost all motivation to explore. A part of me was paranoid about spending too much money and not being able to survive until the end of my trip, but I was also starting to feel very tired. In some ways I was really looking forward to going home, so I wouldn't have to deal with the everyday scams and my limited 4-shirt-2-pants all black wardrobe. Now that I am here, I feel at ease but tear up a bit when looking through all my videos and photos from this trip. After Phong Nha, I had the pleasure of having an entire flat to myself in Hanoi, courtesy of Vivian and her family. I spent a few days in Sapa exploring the villages and markets, then headed back to Hanoi.
Phong Nha
Phong Nha
Water puppets
Street Market in Sapa
Women from one of the cultural minority tribes in Sapa
Cue the food pictures:
Bun Rieu in Hanoi! (My all-time favorite Vietnamese dish)
Che Ba Mau - my childhood favorite dessert
From Hanoi, I took a few days off to Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba. Coincidentally I ran into Mo again. I never really thought I would see anyone again, but it was really great to be reunited with him.
Beach bummin'
And then back to Hanoi:
Some rolled ice cream
Last dinner with Couch Surfing hangout group
After a few more days in Hanoi, I flew back to Bangkok and spent four days there. Four days isn't enough to go to Chiang Mai or the southern islands, so I stayed within the city and did some exploring.
Dinner on the crowded streets of Bangkok Chinatown.
Muay Thai - this place was packed to the brim and probably one of the best experiences I've had in Bangkok. Thai men were shouting in the crowd and waving their hands betting with one another. I have never felt so much energy in the crowd. As for the fighting, it was very much blood, sweat, but no tears.
My oldest sister, who has visited Asia many times before, told me about the Erawan Shrine in Bangkok, which is widely popular amongst locals. Apparently it is one of the rare shrines that actually grants your one wish. I am not very spiritual, but decided on my last night to go ahead and ask for my wish to this Thai version of Brahma. Looking forward to see if this wish of mine is granted.
Post-travel tan. I love Chacos. :)
After 22 hours of flying, I almost kissed the JFK airport ground. But as soon as I smiled in relief, I was greeted by long unorganized lines, and a two hour wait through customs. Welcome to the worst airport in the US. In the car, my mother went on the usual rant about how I should start thinking about actual career goals because Anthropology isn't a "real thing" to study. And my hair? With all those chemicals I'll go bald soon, apparently. Just look at Dad. Oh, and I was a lazy bum and didn't clean the basement before I left, so I have to do that.
Nothing has changed. It never does.
A few days leading up to my flight to Nepal, I was chatting with a friend and brought up my trip. He was so excited for me, and although I felt the same I was also overwhelmed with fear. After traveling for 2-4 weeks abroad, I knew what it felt like to come home. I understood the impact of post-travel depression and how the scale of time changes when traveling. If 2-4 weeks made me feel slightly distant and out of place from the people at home, what would 3 months do? Would I ever be able to go back to the way things were?
Here I am three months later. The other night, I sat in a well-decorated, hipster restaurant in Brooklyn, consuming a beautifully sculpted beef burger, steaming crisp sweet potato wedges, and an icy fresh 8-dollar draft. The meal was amazing but I could not bring myself to love it, because I thought of Auntie's grinning face as she proudly served us her Nepali version of pancakes. I thought about how many children could be fed with the 25 dollars I am spending on this food for one, or the fact that the average Nepali makes $60 per month (that is pretty good). Friends talk about the newest guy that they're seeing, or the most recent drama with such and such. I talk about the time I motorbiked through the Hai Van Pass and almost died driving off the cliff. They are amazed but can only respond with "cool". Once the stories are over and time goes on, my travels won't be of interest to them anymore. It's old news, and it's time to move on to real life. They go back to their drama. Unfortunate events from last semester will carry over on people's lips this semester. My mother goes on talking about how I need to clean more. She nags me about how fat I've gotten (I haven't..).
"Anyway, I hope this is the last time you travel for the next few years," my mother said. I just smiled sadly. I don't plan to tell her that I will probably study abroad in Botswana next semester, learn Bangla in India next summer, study abroad again in New Zealand, and eventually volunteer in Bhutan after graduation. Not yet, anyway.
New York will always be my city, but it is no longer my home. There's no turning back anymore. Even as I sit still finishing up my degree in Rochester, my eyes will endlessly be looking ahead to the next adventure - there is still the entire world left to see, after all.