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| 03rd Jan 2026 |
At 8:00 AM, I sat down for a simple breakfast of bread, eggs, and coffee. But as I packed my bag for the day, I stopped. I held up my blister pack of medicine. The paracetamol? Half gone. The allergy pills? Half gone.
I stared at the foil wrappers. In my "real life," I rarely swallow pills. I pride myself on being healthy. But on this trip, medicine hasn't been a "just in case"—it has been a necessity. It hit me hard: I am getting old. I am dragging my body up mountains and through rainstorms like I am still a teenager, but my cells are checking their watches. My spirit is young, but my knees are keeping score. I made a silent vow to the mirror: From now on, I have to take better care of this vessel.
The realization of mortality was followed by a check on reality. I walked to the money changer to exchange my stash of Malaysian Ringgit for VND. Let me be clear: I am not broke. Abundance always flows to me in unexpected ways. But my travel budget? That is bleeding out. My spending habits have followed me across the border like a bad ghost. Breaking into my emergency fund feels like a defeat, but I choose to see it as a blessing—I have the funds to break into. I am safe. God provides.
But the universe has a wicked sense of humor. Moments after I exchanged my cash, desperate for a good deal, I walked past a street vendor. Salted Coffee: 20,000 VND. I froze. For days, I have been paying 40,000 or 50,000 VND. And here, on my very last day in Hoi An, I find the cheapest, most authentic cup in the city. I felt cheated, but mostly I felt the irony. The deal was always there; I just found it too late.
In the afternoon, I joined a sunset tour to Marble Mountain. Our guide, Thien, was excellent—his English was sharp, his storytelling vivid. But the group dynamic was heavy. I was the only Asian. The rest were Europeans. As we climbed the caves, the conversation shifted to the heavy stuff: The Vietnam War, global politics, religion, and the recent news about Trump. They were loud, opinionated, and articulate. And me? I shrank.
I realized I know very little about global politics. While they debated, I just listened, terrified someone would ask for my opinion. I feel small, I thought. They weren't being mean; they were just educated and confident. I felt the "Asian Awkwardness"—that instinct to stay quiet. But deep down, I knew it wasn't just culture. It was a lack of knowledge. I sat there, resolving to upgrade myself. I want to be the woman who can stand in a circle of strangers and speak her mind without fear.
We visited the Lady Buddha on Monkey Mountain (though the monkeys were hiding). Thien told us how she faces the sea, her hand raised to protect the fishermen from typhoons. She is a symbol of safety.
But at Marble Mountain, my safety was tested. We stood before a statue—a "Cupid" figure known for blessing love lives. Thien told the group: "If you want to find a partner, bow three times and pray." My heart jumped. Yes, it whispered. I long for a partner. I stepped forward, ready to bow. But my soul pulled me back. I am Catholic. My loyalty belongs to Lord Christ Jesus and Mother Mary. I cannot bow to another god just because I am lonely. It was a violent internal struggle. The desire for love against the fidelity of faith. The confusion gave me a physical headache. In the end, I stepped back. I walked away, breathing in the fresh air outside the cave. I chose my faith, but the ache of the un-bowed head lingered.
I escaped the pressure cooker and went for a quiet dinner near my homestay. I was sitting alone when a French lady wobbled over and joined my table. She was intoxicated—eyes glassy, smile loose—but coherent. We talked over food. She didn't talk about Trump. She didn't ask me to bow to statues. She just talked about life in broken English. It was messy, it was random, and it was exactly what I needed. After feeling "not smart enough" on the tour and "not faithful enough" on the mountain, it was nice to just be "human enough" with a tipsy stranger.
I am packing tonight. Hoi An is done. The medicine is half empty. But my spirit is full of lessons.
Reflection: The Upgrade
Travel exposes your gaps. It exposed the gap in my physical stamina (the pills). It exposed the gap in my intellectual confidence (the politics). It exposed the gap in my heart (the longing for a partner).
Today was uncomfortable. I felt old, I felt uneducated, and I felt spiritually conflicted. But discomfort is just the sound of growing. I am leaving Hoi An with a new list of goals. I need to take care of my body. I need to read more history so I can speak up. And I need to trust that God has a plan for my love life that doesn't involve bowing to statues in a cave.
I am not broke; I am investing in a newer version of myself.
Date: January 3, 2026 Location: Hoi An (Last Day) Mood: Growing Pains
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