 |
| 25th Dec 2025 |
Christmas morning usually begins with hymns or gifts. Mine begins with a scream.
I am strapped into an Alpine Coaster at the Datanla Waterfall, hurtling down a track at breakneck speed. The wind tears at my face, the pine trees blur into green streaks, and for a few glorious seconds, I am not a solo traveler worrying about her budget. I am just a blur of noise and joy.
Merry Christmas to me.
The day started with a lesson in "Vietnam Time." My guide, scheduled for 8:00 AM, texted to say he’d be late. So, I sat at a stall opposite my hotel and accidentally ordered a feast: Salted Coffee and two Banh Mi. I forgot how huge the portions are here—stuffed with meat, eggs, and veggies. I ate like a queen, fueling up for the mountains.
Our first stop was Robin Hill. I paid the 120,000 VND for the cable car and found myself suspended high above the pine forests. I shared the cabin with a guy from the UK and another from Korea. We dangled our feet over the canopy, talking about monkeys and jungles, while the lake glittered below us.
Then came the "Tourist Tax" reality check.
After the coaster (another 130,000 VND), we hit the Strawberry Farm. I’ve been eating strawberries for two days straight, so I skipped the picking.
Then lunch. I sat with a lovely couple from Myanmar, but I made a rookie mistake: I ordered two dishes. The bill hit 188,000 VND. As I stared at the uneaten food, the guilt set in.
By the time we reached Langbiang Hill (another 120,000 VND entrance fee), the math started to terrify me. Everywhere needs money. I confessed my fears to the Myanmar couple: "I thought Vietnam would be cheap, but my spending habits are as bad as they are back home in Malaysia." They nodded in agreement. We were all feeling the pinch.
But then, a moment of pure grace.
The Korean traveler in our group—let’s call him "Oppa Korea"—saw us sweating in the heat. Without a word, he walked into a grocery shop and bought ice cream for the entire group. It was a small gesture, but on a hot, expensive day, that cold sweetness tasted like kindness.
As we ascended Langbiang, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The cool air, the rolling hills, the majestic pine trees... I wasn't just in Vietnam anymore. I felt like I was back in Kundasang, Sabah. The resemblance was uncanny. For a moment, looking at the trees that mirrored my homeland, I didn't feel so far away.
The day ended at the Crazy House. The name is accurate—the architecture is melting and twisting—but the crowds were the real madness. I abandoned the tour there and walked the 750 meters back to my hotel, needing silence.
The Broken Toy and The Silent Beggar
At 5:15 PM, I returned to the church. The crowd was dense, everyone locked in their own bubbles. I accidentally stepped on a plastic toy dropped by a child. Crunch.
The kid looked up, eyes welling. I didn't hesitate. I bought him a brand-new toy. His tears turned to a smile.
I waited for someone to wish me Merry Christmas. Silence.
Fine, I decided. If you want the spirit, you have to bring it.
I walked down to the Christmas tree and started beaming at strangers. "Merry Christmas!" I told them. They looked surprised, then smiled back.
But my charity has a limit.
Outside the church, a beggar approached me. I looked at him, and I walked away.
Yesterday, at the café, I saw a young boy begging. An English gentleman gave him money, but I refused.
Some might call me cold, but I come from Sabah, where we wrestle with this issue daily. Normalizing begging, especially for children, feels like trapping them in a cycle. That kid needs school, not my spare change. I gave a toy to a crying child today because it was an accident I caused. But I won't pay to keep a child on the street.
Reflection: The Cost of Connection
Christmas is often about giving, but solo travel forces you to be selfish. You have to hoard your energy, your safety, and yes, your money.
Today was a balance sheet of the soul.
I spent money recklessly on roller coasters and food, but I withheld it from a beggar.
I felt poor when looking at my wallet, but rich when "Oppa Korea" handed me an ice cream.
I felt lonely in the crowd, until I realized the hills looked just like home.
We judge ourselves for how we spend our money and our kindness. But I am learning that generosity doesn't always have to be cash. Sometimes, it’s an ice cream. Sometimes, it’s a "Merry Christmas" to a stranger. And sometimes, it’s just recognizing that the pine trees in Vietnam wave the same way they do in Borneo.
Date: December 25, 2025 (Christmas Day)
Location: Da Lat
Mood: High Altitude, Empty Wallet.
No comments:
Post a Comment