Walking on the beach of Phu Quoc Island, looking distantly into the horizon of the South China Sea while listening to Oceans is an incredible experience. Less incredible was walking behind an older woman who’s bikini top was at her waist and her bottom piece was more nonexistent than existent, if you know what I mean. Over the weekend I spent 48 hours in retirement paradise amongst mostly people old enough to be my grandparents. I met up with a new friend, Kate from Canada, and shared laughs over the fact that we were the “young chicks” as one sweet older couple called us.

As she headed off to motorbike around the island, I headed off in search of clean beaches and time to reflect over the last 4 weeks of my life. As I walked, I strolled through street markets, to local areas, to dirt roads, to talking with local children just getting out of school, to accidentally stumbling upon and deliberately sneaking into a 5-star resort with a beautiful beach. Here’s the thing though: it worked. As I walked onto the beach and set up camp, I wasn’t questioned. I blended in, sitting there amongst the small crowd of variably tan white people, and was never questioned whether or not I belonged there. It was then that I realized that the privilege I have in the US as a white female is just as real here and everywhere else in the world. The whiteness of my skin is a ticket to not being questioned of my authority or belonging. So what do I do with that? How do I treat my privilege here or anywhere? These are the questions I’ve had for much of college and studying abroad continues to confront me with this, especially living in a district mostly populated by local Vietnamese. I still don’t have answers. I do my best to acknowledge my privilege and bias but I fail all too often. One important lesson I learned from an international experiential education conference I attended a couple of years ago is that there is a 100% chance that you will offend others at least one point in your life when trying to make cross-cultural connections and confront your own privilege. However, now more than ever you have to make room for brave space. Be okay with the fact that you will fail and try anyway. I’ve learned the most through conversations with others, and I’ve already had several eye-opening conversations here about race and what it means to be a foreigner in Vietnam.

 

 

So switching gears a bit, I’m a month in and have been blessed enough to have done a ton of traveling and bouncing around within SE Asia. However, I’ve been yearning for something more, something more immersive. And yet, I’m the only one getting in my way. There are moments of motivation where I reach out to service organizations that are mostly Vietnamese run or have conversations with locals who don’t have English as their first language that push me outside of my comfort zone. And then there are moments that have me running to my cà phê sữa đá in English-speaking cafés and my bed with Netflix. I want to be happy enough with the progress I’ve made so far, the small victories, the lessons I’ve learned, but I can’t help but think that there’s more to this. Should I just throw my computer out the window, cut off all ties to the US and walk out my front door in search of solely Vietnamese company? Should I keep enjoying my status quo of classes, cafes, banh mi, and short interactions with locals? As I struggle through what it means to be in search of an immersive study abroad experience, any advice can be directed to 497 hoa hao, Phuong 4, Quan 10, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. At the beginning of the year I made a list of 17 for ’17 achievable goals for the year that would challenge me to open up my perspective of the world and enjoy each moment as it comes. While I’m happy that I’ve started to make progress on many of them, I’m realizing more and more how little I know and have experienced so far.

 

 

So by now you’re probably wondering why I titled this post the way I did. For reading this far, I’m granting you the answer. So one thing that’s great about all of the flights around SE Asia is that they all play music while boarding and getting off. On my solo flight to Phu Quoc, excited for the weekend ahead, I knew it was going to be a good time because as soon as we landed, they started playing an anthem by the great hero, Sufjan Stevens. And not just any song, but “Chicago” of all possibilities. I took this as a sign that not only is it going to be okay, but I need to see each moment for what it is and accept each emotion as they come. Between signing myself up for an adventure race in April, joining a local church, and continuing to make a name for myself here in Vietnam, I’m slowly but surely learning who I really am and want to be, all the while experiencing things I never could have dreamed of before coming here.

 

Here’s my motto for the rest of the semester:

 

Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry. – Jack Kerouac

 

Catch you on the flip side.