Live in the Moment

While walking along Lang Co Beach, my eyes followed the ripples that grooved from the sand to the waves hitting my feet. I took a deep breath and took in everything around me: the locals enjoying their one-hour slot of bearable sun, the sun slowly setting behind the light cloud and lush mountains, the lack of trash that is usually present at Thuan An Beach, and the company. Then I thought to myself, I will never have this again. The ripples in the sand will be in a different pattern, the water level will change, the trash may increase or decrease, and I will not be in the presence of all of the people present at the beach again.

In a different part of my life, I will not be able to partake in the same activities again, nor will landscapes maintain the same look and feel with way tourism is progressing in Vietnam. My Vietnamese skills will either deteriorate or strengthen, depending on the work I do back at home. Su and I won't be able to "chem gio" about the same stories while walking along the dragon bridge. Khoai and I will eventually be only two of many people who explore Da Nang at daring heights. I may never have the same relationships I have had with people in Vietnam, either because opportunities to meet are scarce, or because work will consume me once again.

When I think about these things, I don't think about them because I'm fatalistic or generally negative. I think about them to keep in mind the opportunities I presently have to live and love. If I were to believe that everything will be the same when I leave the country by the end of the month, I would be in need of a serious reality check. Hence, by the midway point of this journey, I promised myself that I would live in the moment, and take in everything I could without driving myself crazy. To fulfill that promise, I've journeyed through Southeast Asia with my mother, who had never traveled beyond South Vietnam. I've taken my sister and hey boyfriend on que huong food and site tours. I've engaged in a countrywide water fight during Songkran in Thailand. I've started dance parties with other Fulbrighters at random restaurants. I've sung "Va Toi Cung Yeu Em" the first day I taught an International Studies class when a student asked if I could sing a song for them to conclude my introduction. I've illegally driven with three people on my motorbike when the Hue rain prevented taxis from picking me, Jenelle, and Steven up. I've eaten things that I wouldn't dare repeat in words or in consumption. I've "Gangnam Styled" with my American Culture students during our last lecture. I've laughed my butt off, cried my heart out, and loved hard.

And I will continue to do so. Tomorrow, I will embark on an introduction / farewell tour with my best friend Robert (who's traveling outside of the States for the first time!) and my cousin Khoai. We will begin our exploration in Hanoi, and stop by Halong Bay, Hue, Hoi An, Da Nang, Saigon as well as Phnom Penh and Siem Reap in Cambodia. I will "gioi thieu" Robert and Khoai with all the places and people I have come to admire, and in the end, I will have to bid "hen gap lai" as well. However, keeping the end in mind, I will make sure to keep my head up and enjoy everyone's company as I always have, and save the sorrows and trips down memory lane for the 17-hour plane ride home.