Foreign Object

I was digging around in one of our drawers yesterday, (where we keep the miscellaneous items like band aids and batteries) and underneath a messy pile of museum brochures and old ticket stubs and past trip itineraries (they build up in number after nine countries), guess what I found?

My cell phone!

I forgot those things existed, friends.

And it looked so strange sitting there in my hand; I had to pause for a second.

I haven’t touched a cell phone in over three months. I haven’t thought about it, and I have to tell you, I haven’t missed it one bit.

I’ve missed the people it connects me with tremendously, but I haven’t missed the tones and the rings and the beeps and the buzzes.

The thing about it is, I completely appreciate the wonderful things a cell phone allows for back at home…I can text Marissa random You’ve Got Mail quotes on a whim or call my mom on the verge of tears when I drop my psychology notebook in the toilet the day before the midterm (Mother dearest, aren’t you glad you gave birth to someone as coordinated and rational as I).

But I also can’t help feeling refreshed by the fact that I’ve lived a life this past semester that doesn’t necessitate cell phone usage—I look at my little black phone and it doesn’t carry the same weight as it used to, it doesn’t have the same power as before. And I think there is some small freedom in that.

I told Allie before we went to sleep last night about the foreign object I discovered in our drawer that afternoon.

And we decided that those are the strange, little things that will make our adjustment back to real life weird and almost difficult at times.

Things like cell phones and television commercials, driving (no silly rickshaw drivers?) and fixed prices (I half expect the checker at Target to tell me my total and to respond without thinking “Fair price now. I’ll give you ten dollars—final offer”).

The beautiful thing about it though is that I don’t just come home to those things, but to people who love me, people I ache for even now, people who will lavish me with grace as I find myself, once again, in transition.

Love. Anna

I just finished a ten-pager (and have another twelve pager ahead), which is to say that my well of words is running dry (not sure we ever thought that was possible).

I do want to wish you the loveliest of Sundays, and let you know that home is fifteen days away!

It won’t be long now.

Love. Anna

November 28th #2

Yesterday was Saturday, November the 28th.

I awoke today to greet Saturday, November the 28th for a second time.

The International Date Line is a strange and confusing thing for my brain to try and grasp, but we did indeed cross it last night.

This means that I went to bed twenty hours ahead of California time, and woke up four hours behind it.

At least I can say I’ve lived a day of my life over again, right?

O how absurd normal becomes when you’re living (and sleeping) on a boat.

Love. Anna

From Home

There are two things in particular from home that I've found in every port of call without exception (I call them two of our most prominent American exports).

Can you guess what they are?

It’s not Coca~Cola (although you can easily consume that in every country too).

And it’s not McDonalds (you may remember that Ghana’s left out of the loop on that one).

Our first big global export is music.

I can’t tell you how many times I was in a restaurant or a store or driving in a random taxi, and We’d hear a song on the radio and I’d to turn to Lila or Allie and say, “Remind me where I am again”. From Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” to Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” to the “YMCA” (most bizarrely in China)—our music is everywhere. I’m convinced a great majority of the time people have no idea what it is they’re actually listening to, but that seems to be of little to no consequence in matters of enjoyment.

Our second pervasive export is a little chain we like to call KFC.

Oh my, how I wish I could fully communicate how the rest of the world loves our Colonel Sanders, but they love him infinitesimally more than we do in the States.

Not only was it by far the most widespread U.S. fast food chain around the world; it was most always frequented by locals from whatever country we happened to be in at the time. I still don’t fully understand it, but this global fried chicken love is, indeed, deeply-rooted.

Seven days to Hawaii (and hooray for a much-anticipated reading day tomorrow).

Love. Anna

I joked with my sister before beginning this voyage that I was going to make a button with the slogan “Girls—the world’s greatest untapped resource” printed on it to wear about the world for all to see.

We both chuckled at the idea, but anyone who’s familiar with my heart on these matters knows that I’m completely kooky enough to actually do it, and having seen more of the world than before, I rather wish I would have.

There are seven billion people on the planet.

About half of those seven billion people are women—a great portion of whom have been exploited, disempowered, forgotten, and excluded from entire arenas of society. I have seen their faces time and time again on this journey, and their great strength and unspeakable beauty never cease to astound me (I cannot wait to tell you of them when I get home).

I have days when I awake disheartened at the state of world. Days when the list of problems seems long, and the list of solutions exhausted.

But then I remember.

I remember that there’s about 3.5 billion of us out there with intelligent minds and creative hearts and articulate voices that have yet to be claimed and cultivated and celebrated for all they’re worth.

This little factoid, while a problem in itself, also gives me a crazy kind of hope, a hope that makes my blood flow thicker in my veins.

Because these women have so much to give the world.

And the more we learn to include them, the more their voices are heard and their minds educated, the more that we advocate for such things, than the more we all up our chances of stumbling upon the cures and the solutions and the bright ideas that our world is aching for. Even in their brokenness, I know they have a remarkable role to play in the making new of our messed up world.

I wait in great expectation for the day humanity comes to understand this.

It’s not about anger or the burning of bras, but about justice and doing right, about acknowledging and fostering the tremendous amount of promise that lies within this world’s women.

I, for one, want to live in such a world.

And I eagerly await the day (though it’s a long way off) when I have daughters of my own, or sons for that matter, that I get the privilege of teaching about the extraordinary and mysterious gifts women bring to this world—I see the possibilities and it moves me.

Love. Anna

Turkey Day

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends!

It’s been a rather low-key day here on the ship. Classes and routine were as usual, but they did whip up a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for us in the kitchen (which is no easy task when cooking for six hundred).

I hope this day finds you in the fullest posture of gratitude for God’s goodness and grace, and for the abundance we know and experience daily that such a great deal of the world is without.

Whether you’re a friend or a family member or a random blog-reader, I’m grateful for you on this day, and I wish you all warmth and blessing this Thanksgiving.

Love. Anna

Farewell to Jesse and Hello to Don

Our crew works on ten-month contracts that don’t correspond with the dates of fall and spring voyages in their entirety, which means we had to say goodbye to a bunch of our crewmembers in Hong Kong.

One of them was our beloved cabin steward, Jesse.

Jesse probably knew Allie and I better than anyone else on the ship.

He knew what time we each woke in the morning, he knew when we were feeling stressed with work (because our room would grow exponentially more messy), and he cleaned around many a pair of panties (our room often becomes a small-scale laundry mat after being in port) as he made our bed each morning.

We were sad to see him go.

But we’ve welcomed Don into our lives now.

Don is efficient and smiley and has a sense of humor about things (as we know from the way he makes Allie’s bed and places her stuffed hippo in front of her open laptop, as if the hippo were typing away important documents—cracks us up every time, Don).

Nine days to Hawaii.

Love. Anna

Japan

In thirty-six minutes we’ll be sailing away from our last international port (those are such bittersweet words to type).

I’m completely enchanted with Japan, and also adamantly set on returning—four days just wasn’t enough (I know I feel that way with every country, but I really do mean it when it comes to Japan).

The fun thing was that each day in Japan I got to spend in a different city.

Day one: Yokohama—lovely and quiet and lined with trees lit up with all kinds of autumn hues. We took the bus to the Sankeien Gardens, where we viewed a tea ceremony and hiked to a pagoda and threw euros from Spain into a wishing-well. We finished the night off with sushi and people watching (my favorite) and When Harry Met Sally (also my favorite, and quite possibly the best chick-flick ever written).

Day two: Tokyo—Brittany and I decided to take the train to Tokyo for the day, and were completely out of our minds when we went without a single map or brochure or destination in mind. We wandered far and wide, and conveniently stumbled upon the Harajuku district and Takeshita Street, where we window shopped and admired the prettily dressed people (in, of course, our baggy sweatshirt and jeans—we haven’t been able to do laundry for over three weeks. But then who am I kidding? My entire Semester at Sea wardrobe could be washed and hanging in our closet and my outfit still wouldn’t hold a candle to the immaculately put together women of Tokyo) and ate the most scrumptious dip-died noodles ever.

Day three: Hiroshima—We drove ten hours total for our visit, but I have no regrets in choosing to spend my day that way. Anyone remotely close to having the means should go and see and grieve and learn (or at least read John Hersey’s booked, eloquently titled Hiroshima). The atomic age is one I would wish on a million stars to be able to erase, and the museum that was erected to remember August 6, 1945 is breathtaking in that it chooses to skip blame in order to seek something greater—this in itself brings to my heart a great hope.

Day four: Kyoto—My Anthropology of Reproduction professor took a group of us to Arashiyama’s Monkey Park for some good, solid Japanese macaque observation. The macaques are the most hilarious things you’ve ever seen, with their bright red faces and even redder butts (it was indecent of me, I know, but I couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures of the their buttocks). After our observation time was finished, Marissa and I stayed behind to explore the gorgeous, little town of Arashiyama. We had lunch and peeked in the town’s quaint little shops and enjoyed some sweet potato ice cream before navigating three different train lines back to the boat in Kobe for on-ship time.

And just like that we begin our ten-day trek to Hawaii.

The MV Explorer is lovely, and I’ve met people on the MV Explorer that are even lovelier. But ten straight days sailing on a boat of this size is enough to give anyone cabin fever. On top of that fact, we are going to have eight class days during this stretch, and sad as it sounds, that’s unprecedented for us on this voyage, so Allie and I might just be loosing some hair (reality will be a very, very cruel thing come January).

But not to worry—we’re going to do our very best to quell the fever with plenty of movie-nights and Uno games.

Love. Anna

heavy heart.

I visited Hiroshima today.

And I understand better now how dark of day it truly was when humanity figured out how to melt the flesh of 100,000 people with a bomb 3 meters long.

Eyeballs became liquefied and rolled down charred faces as tears.

Human beings were evaporated into oblivion leaving nothing but a black shadow on the sidewalk beneath them.

I’ll be gnawing on this one for a while.

Love. Anna

Important Notice

So I’ve used bathrooms of all shapes and sizes on this trip, right?

From the squatty-potty to the hole in the ground to your plain, old, average toilet—I thought I had seen it all.

Then Japan happened.

I feel the need to inform those of you who thought we had it won with the western toilet that you are mistaken.

Because the toilets in Japan are completely amazing.

Fact.

Heated toilet seats? Remote controls for toilets?

I never knew, I NEVER KNEW about such things, my friends.

Basically, I’m changed—Japanese toilets have changed me.

It's like peeing in the land of the Jetsons.

And I thought you needed to know that Japan is kicking our big booty in the race for most technological toilet.

Love. Anna

Second to last stop...

2 days in Yokohama.

2 days in Kobe.

And one great big hooray for Japan!

Love. Anna

So one thing I had every intention of blogging regularly about, and have failed massively at actually following through on, is food in port.

This is due in large part to the fact that a great deal of the time, we have no idea what we’re eating (there are moments when I think this is for the best).

Menus aren't often in English, and it’s a rare day when you have a waiter who can speak a semblance of broken English, which means it's really a wonder we ever order anything at all.

On occasion, there does happen to be an English menu that’s completely misspelled, and we end up almost peeing our pants attempting to order “Fnied Schnimp with Siggling Onions” while keeping a straight face. And I kid you not when I say there was a dish on the menu in China called “The Palace Explodes the Diced Chicken”—I was tempted to order it, but I passed (I’m not sure how my stomach generally feels about exploded chicken).

Sometimes, we use our own brand of food sign language. Other times, the menu has pictures to point at or you gesture to a kind local eating next to you, who’s vastly more knowledgeable regarding a good order than you could ever be.

And then there was one time in India, where we walked into a restaurant that I’m pretty convinced no foreigner had ever been before—everyone there spoke Tamil (and Tamil exclusively). By the time we sat down to eat, we were so hot and tired and hungry, and there were no menus.

We talked to the waiter man for a minute as if he had absolutely no problem understanding English. Of course he didn’t understand, and began to talk at us, as if we could understand perfect Tamil, which we (shockingly) couldn't.

So I smile widely, and we enter a staring contest of sorts, the waiter and I just looking at each other, until he shakes his head, mutters something, and walks away.

But you know what, he ended up bringing out a perfectly delicious spread for us, and while it’s not the most dignified way of ordering food at a restaurant, it worked in a pinch.

Now for food in China (as I was at my most adventurous in this port).

I had my first bite of duck brain in China—extremely rich and buttery.

And I also really enjoyed eating lotus root, which is a vegetable that has a texture similar to that of an apple, but tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before.

Martin also took us a Sichuan hot-pot restaurant before we left Beijing, and it was hands-down THE spiciest food I have ever had in my life. This is not Mexican salsa spicy or even Indian curry spicy—this is otherworldly, tingly-mouth, cleansing-sweat spicy.

Our waitress brought out this huge pot of dark red broth that rested on a burner in the middle of our table. Floating atop the liquid we had affectionately titled “the witch’s brew” were four whole frogs (at least six inches in length each). Once the chili-broth started to boil, we tossed in all kinds of raw meat and vegetables, they cooked, and then we picked miscellaneous items out of the pot with our chopsticks—it was something like a very spicy grab bag, and you never knew just what you might end up with. 

Martin, of course, was absolutely dying of laughter watching our facial reactions to our mouths being completely aflame. But it wasn’t all that long before he started digging in and began sweating bullets himself (he admitted it was pretty spicy).

I must tell you that the frog was absolutely wonderful, and I quite enjoyed it. I would have it again if I ever got the opportunity (granted my taste buds were essentially charred from the spicy, but texture-wise I thought it very pleasant).

One last random thing I tried while in China was “Blueberry Breeze” flavored Pringles, (which were absurdly wide spread in the grocery marts and convenient stores). They were like what you might imagine salted fruit loops would taste—quite bizarre and something I never feel the need to try again.

So there you are for fun food in China!

I very much anticipate wonderful sushi in Japan, and Allie and I are already assembling a list of things we can’t wait to enjoy once we get home. Sometimes we lie in bed at night and ask each other “if you could have anything to eat right now, what would it be?”

It’s a game that normally ends with a burrito, a tuna sandwich, or chocolately-chip teddy grahams.

Love. Anna

Beijing

Minus weekends of slush at winter camp, I’ve never been in real snow before.

Which is why I kept telling myself it would be cold in Beijing.

But as someone who’s never known a cold that can sting your eyeballs and make your lips feel as though they’ve received a generous dose of Novocain, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The truth is, I laughingly bought leggings and a hat and mittens at the H&M in Hong Kong (which was a balmy 80 degrees by the way), thinking how cute and quaint it was to be making such a purchase.

When I stepped off the plane in Beijing wearing cotton socks and Converse, I finally understood—it would be COLD in Beijing.

That first night, Laurel (who’s tall and witty and makes for a lovely travel buddy) and Lila (who you should know now I absolutely adore) and I ran around the Peking University campus stalking up on long underwear and wool gloves and other such things one needs in order to be properly bundled. And then, of course, Lila and I bought the most ridiculous-looking panda hats. We wore them loud and proud around Beijing, and I can safely say that we most certainly spread joy everywhere we went, as a good three out of five locals couldn’t resist a hearty chuckle at the sight of us (I might post a quick picture if I find internet in Japan so you can get a better idea of exactly what we were sporting around town).

We walked out of the hotel the next morning looking like first cousins of the Michelin Man, but from there on out we were warm enough to enjoy Beijing in all it’s full (and snowy) glory. It felt absolutely magical to walk around the city with icicles hanging off of buildings and the pine trees so perfectly dusted. The Bird’s Nest Stadium was covered in snow, and the Great Wall was made that much more breathtaking (and treacherous, may I add…but more on that later) by the early winter cold.

I suppose I should’ve mentioned earlier that my trip to Beijing was a university exchange, so we were staying on the campus of Peking University (supposedly the Harvard of China, and one of it’s oldest universities). We toured around the city with a student-guide during the day, and in the evening we chatted with Chinese students at two separate receptions the university held for us.

Martin was my first university friend, and what a wonderful one he was—if my suitcase was big enough, I just might’ve smuggled him back on the boat! We got to chat about family and holidays and communism and his dreams of studying at Stanford one day. We all had quite a lot of questions for him, and Martin was ever so patient and lovely to answer them for us. He took Lila and Laurel and Eric and I to his favorite eatery on campus, and we bought soup-in-a-bag and squid-on-a-stick and a random egg-pancake thing, and we could see our breath as we walked happily through the campus.

Lily is my other university friend. I met her at the reception on the second night. She’s studying law, and her hair holds curl (which she is rightfully quite proud of). We talked about relationships and dating and marriage in our respective countries, and about her dreams of studying at Cal Berkley (notice a theme in dreams here?).

Other wonders that I had the pleasure of seeing while I was in Beijing were the Summer Palace (absolutely gorgeous covered in snow), the Ming Tombs, Tiananmen Square (there was much to learn here as the massacre took place the year I was born), the Great Hall of the People (i.e. the Chinese parliament building), an acrobatics show (a slightly lower budget Chinese style Cirque du Soleil), the Forbidden City (gigantic), the Temple of Heaven, and of course, the Great Wall of China (my personal highlight)—we were just a little bit busy, and a little bit tired at the end of four days. Just a little though.

I have a million little gems of moments and memories from my time in China that I wish to share with you in perfect nuance—it truly was such a marvelous time—but this is a small start in that direction, and it won’t be long now until I can convey them to you personally (HOOray!).

Last night, I must have woken up hourly to the sound of drawers slamming or the jolt of a large, rolling wave against the ship, and it’s been so long since we’ve had really rough seas that it seems I’ve lost any and all tolerance I had for them—but our stretch to Japan is so brief; I know I can make it!

Sporting the sea bands and wishing you the calmest of seas,
Anna

Rough seas.

Nausea.

Will post later.

Three hours ago I was in Beijing?

And there was snow EVERYWHERE!

My hands were mittened.

And Lila was my bus buddy.

And my heart is very, very full.

Beijing made it easily onto my top 5 favorite life moments, and is otherwise indescribable.

But I shall try to elaborate more in coming posts.

For now, a night of sleep and then a day of frolicking in Shanghai.

Love. Anna

Shifting Seasons

As I mentioned before, it’s been incredibly hot at every port of call thus far.

From Spain to Vietnam, the sun’s been shining and the humidity’s been in full force.

By the time afternoon arrives, normally you feel like you are walking around in a steamy shower—we often walk by our reflections in a shop window, and I just have to say “embrace the glow, ladies, embrace the glow!” You really do end up being shiny all the time.

But things are about to change drastically.

At our logistical pre-port tonight, they forecast temperatures in Beijing to be in the 30’s.

This basically means I am going to freeze. The extent of my cold weather clothing is a sweatshirt and jeans.

So—if I return home come December with a few missing toes, it’s probably because they were frostbitten off while hiking on the Great Wall of China. =)

I have no idea what access to internet I’ll have during my time in China, which means I’m probably checking out for these next few days, but I’m sending you all my love, and you can send me warm thoughts in return.

Love. Anna

Things are about to get crazy, friends.

We hit China in less than two days.

I’ll be in Hong Kong for one day, and Beijing for four.

My last day in China I spend in Shanghai, where we board the ship again, only to hit Japan three days later.

After five days in Japan, we are U.S. bound to Hawaii.

It’s crazy to think how close we are to the home stretch!

There’s still so many things in my head and my heart I want to process, but because of the insane travel schedule coming these next couple of weeks (meaning very few class days), we all have heavy homework loads now.

I, myself, have hundreds of pages to read and tens of pages to write.

It’s just so hard to find the motivation when you know you’ll be in Hong Kong within the next forty-eight hours.

But I’m going to bite the bullet.

So in case you were wondering what I’m up to on this Monday evening, I’m writing a paper about the Mekong Delta, and reading a healthy portion of "Our Babies, Ourselves: How Biology and Culture Shape the Way We Parent".

Hope your Monday night activities are as equally stimulating.

Love. Anna

Days 2,3, 4, and 5 in Vietnam

Day two in Vietnam, I had an FDP for my Geohazards & Natural Disasters class. We took a boat down the Mekong Delta, looking specifically at human interaction with the river and the impact of floods on the relationship between the Vietnamese people and the landscape.

My professor has a six-year-old daughter named Stella (she looks exactly like Tatum O’Neil in the film Paper Moon) who comes along on all our field trips and talks with the most prim and adorable British accent you’ve ever heard in your life (when you ask this six-year-old girl how she’s doing she says “I’m well, thank you. And how are you?”). We “shared secrets” on the boat ride back.

That evening was the whole rigmarole (to use an Allie-word) involving Emily and our change of plans, so I got to live it up in the hotel room solo, and I made it back to the boat early the next morning to catch Allie and Christina before they began day three in Ho Chi Minh.

We called home from little wooden phone booth stalls in the post office, and then explored the bowels of the enormous Ben Thanh Market for hours.

The first day in Ho Chi Minh City, Christina met a mother and daughter (Elsie and Chloe) who are originally from the Philippines, but who have immigrated to Vietnam for a cheaper cost of living and better jobs. They graciously invited us over for dinner.

So that night we ended up enjoying a home cooked meal in Vietnam. Chloe and her mom were so incredibly hospitable, and we stayed for their little prayer and fellowship gathering, which was random and so fun. I will always remember that night.

The following day, we had a leisure morning. We sipped iced coffee slowly (Vietnam has some of the highest grade coffee in the world—it was amazing) at a café, and wandered through the streets (it’s amazing what delights you can stumble upon when you walk). I also dragged Allie high and low to find a fair trade shop I had read about (quite the fiasco) only to arrive down the ally where it was supposed to be tucked away, and find they had moved elsewhere.

We settled for frozen yogurt instead (did I mention it was incredibly hot and humid in Vietnam? It was HOT and HUMID).

We went back to the boat briefly to drop our things off and devise a plan for the evening, and ran into our lovely friend Brittany. We decided to grab dinner and see a movie (my first trip to the movie theater this whole trip). We enjoyed pho (pretty much the best thing on the planet) and spring rolls for dinner, and were entirely humored to find that the only movie we could get tickets for was “This Is It” (ironic that we came all the way to Vietnam to watch a film about Michael Jackson). But we were there, so we bought tickets anyway (you get to select a seat like you would getting a boarding pass on an airplane…my seat number was G10). And we actually ended up enjoying the movie, and were exceptionally glad to have seen it.

Which brings me to our last day in Vietnam. I woke up early to go visit the War Remnants Museum by myself (the girls had gone the day that I was on my Mekong Delta FDP). I wanted to go and to see it.

I forced myself to stare at the photographs for a long time. To look at the faces—full of trauma and fear and death. It weighs so heavily on your heart, but there was something in me that felt like it was important to do.

After, I walked to meet Christina and Brittany and Allie at the shop where they were getting dresses tailor-made. They had their fitting, and we ooo’d and ahhh’d, and then went on our merry way to the markets to do some last minute bargaining.

I was still set on finding the fair trade shop we had devoted a ridiculous amount of time and energy trying to track down the day prior, so Allie and I slipped away, and to my great delight, we actually found it! The girl who was working there was our age and we ended up sitting and chatting for a while. She attempted to teach us some Vietnamese (quite unsuccessfully, mind you), and after lunch, we decided to go get our toes painted (when your feet have walked you around seven countries, they get pretty battered, I’m not gonna lie).

We made time for one last iced coffee before heading back to the boat, and bidding Ho Chi Minh City farewell.

Happy Sunday, friends. May the start of your week be a wonderful one.

Love. Anna

Rewritten

Hi friends,

Just wanted to let you in on the little fact that God decided to change plans (being the ultimate travel agent that he is), so Emily and I won’t be rendezvousing in Vietnam after all.

I’ll spare you details and just say it was a visa problem of sorts, and we’ll call it a day.

But not to fret.

Emily is spending her days off visiting a dear friend in Indonesia, and I’m spending these next few days exploring the wonderful Ho Chi Minh City with dear friends of my own.

What marvelous things alternative plans can turn out to be, no?

Much love,
Anna

Day One in Ho Chi Minh City

Oh.

My.

Word.

What a first day I had in Vietnam!

Allie and I went to the Cu Chi Tunnels (an incredible and expansive network of hand-carved underground tunnels built over a period of about twenty years by Viet Cong forces).

We knew going in to the trip that we’d have the opportunity to crawl through some of the tunnels, which is a must-do if you’ve gone through the trouble of the two-hour bus ride.

When we arrived to the spot, our guide brushes away some leaves to reveal the trap-door entrance to the tunnel network.

Roughly speaking, it’s a generous 12-inch by 14-inch rectangle opening.

I couldn’t help but have visions of the horrible trauma that would ensue were I to get stuck in this petite-sized entryway.

But one by one our group members were inching their butts and torsos through the opening…meanwhile, I’m still attempting to reconcile the size of the hole in front of me with the size of my lovely butt.

By now most of our group has crawled through the network already, so if I was going to embrace this adventure, the time was now. I think small, get half my body through the entrance with ease, Allie snaps a quick picture, hands me my camera, and bids me farewell with a smile.

Down into the tunnel network I go.

By myself.

Why anyone in their right mind let me go down into the darkness of the tunnels without a flashlight I have no idea…but it’s pitch black, my friends, pitch black.

So I’m using the flash of my camera to find my way on my hands-and-knees.

Snap a picture, crawl four feet, snap a picture, and crawl four feet.

Until I get to a fork in the tunnel network.

Once again. How anyone in their right mind let me down there without telling me which way I was to crawl, I do not know. But I chose to crawl to the right, all the while attempting to breathe deeply (the minute amount of oxygen that’s down there anyhow) and stay calm. 

I continue the crawl-and-camera routine.

Until the flash of my camera startles, of all things, a bat that proceeds to fly towards my face (mind you this tunnel is AT MOST three feet wide—not nearly large enough to feel even remotely comfortable sharing space with Mr. Bat, and certainly not wide enough to handle my dramatics).

I scream.

And the next flash of my camera reveals ever so kindly even more bats hanging every few feet or so from the top of the tunnel.

I have no choice but to keep crawling, but it doesn’t take long until I hit a dead end.

It’s at this point that I realize that right was not right after all.

I reverse crawl now, all the while lamenting how horrible it would be for some innocent tourist to find my carcass eaten away by the flesh-hungry bat species I was sure to be sharing my Cu Chi tunnel experience with. 

Once I made my way back to the fork in the tunnel network, I hear voices.

I literally cannot remember a time I was so relieved to hear another human’s voice as in that moment.

Three other SASers were behind me now, and one had a flashlight.

We crawl left and approach the exit.

I can hear Allie’s voice asking…“Is that Anna?”

Up and out I come.

I take one look at Allie and shout “THAT WAS NOT ENJOYABLE!”

Makes me laugh thinking about it actually.

I’m sure it was the adrenaline talking…but it reminded me an awful lot of the betrayal I felt getting off Space Mountain for the first time after my mother had assured me it wasn’t a  “fast one”.

We finished off our visit with an opportunity to shoot weaponry used in the Vietnam War for an extra fee. Try as I might, the irony of it all was indigestible—where forty years ago (which is nothing but a blink in historical terms), millions of human beings were being slaughtered (and it was indeed millions when you count U.S. casualties, along with Vietnamese soldiers and civilians), my generation will line up and pay to, of all things, shoot bullets.

It’s an irony that will prove invaluable to my Warfare in the Modern Era coursework, in addition to my own ruminations on how it is bombs and booby traps and bullets weaseled their way into most every decade of the twentieth century, and why they’ll most likely continue to do so.

My day was hardly finished after the Cu Chi tunnels, as Lila and I still had many adventures ahead of us that evening, including among other things, two lost shore passes, the most scarring cab ride experience I’ve had to date, dinner at a local night market (I’ve decided wrapping spring rolls is not my gifting), and a hilarious cyclo ride back to the boat (entirely epic, as usual)…but I’m going to tuck those stories away for another time, seeing as it’s late, tomorrow’s another full day, and this post is already longer than intended.

Love. Anna

Good Morning, Viet Nam

As I type these words, it is morning here and we are sailing up the Mekong River to our port destination of Ho Chi Minh City. We can see the fishing boats from our bedroom window, and wave at the locals as we pass them.

I know Viet Nam will hold many exciting things.

But by far most exciting is MY SISTER.

Viet Nam is a cheap flight from Indonesia, which means Emily is coming to rendezvous with me in Ho Chi Minh City for three days.

It is the loveliest, most splendid, perfectly timed gift to know that I will be seeing a member of my family tomorrow.

Exactly what my heart ordered.

Vietnam with a side of sister.

Much love,
Anna

Happy November, dear friends!

Yesterday was a silly day.

The boat didn’t move.

We spent the entire day bunkering just off the coast of Singapore.

We could see the skyline from our bedroom window.

But we weren’t docked there, which meant we weren’t allowed to get off.

Just stare at it longingly.

But we’re moving again.

This time towards the lovely country of Vietnam, where we arrive tomorrow morning.

I have excitement in my bones.

Love. Anna