Getting Roasted on the Daily

5B461900-F9CE-46D8-A28B-8E3C54112585.jpegI’m thoroughly enjoying my time living in Vietnam. I love what I’m doing, the freedom I have, and the community around me. Still, I’m getting roasted on the daily.

You come across a countless array of personalities and characteristics while living in a hostel. I meet some people who’s words are as smooth as gravel. A few times, I  would rather have eaten gravel than endure the pain of listening to them try to entertain an obviously unamused audience. Most of the time however, I’m meeting people that I enjoy getting to know, and am fascinated by their ways of life and stories. Not only is everyone uniquely different, but every culture and country from around the world has different forms of bonding, humor, insults, cursing, and so on. Often times, the joke someone said about you that you want to vent in your journal about later, is actually a sign of friendship, or a form of endearment.

A few people roast me harder than the abs of Cristiano Renaldo. Sometimes I live for it, and sometimes I live for the moment they stop talking. It doesn’t help that I’m rooming with a guy as ruthless as Loki, the trickster God. Though if you ask me, he’s more like a devil. (I’m mildly joking, Brady)

What I have found interesting is my responses. With some people, I fire back words faster than a pro frat boy shotgunning a beer. I’m witty, funny, and always ready to come back with more. With others, it’s as though my ability to form any structured sentence vanishes into an abyss. Maybe my responses from person to person varies because every relationship or group has a different dynamic. Or, perhaps it’s my level of comfortability, although I wouldn’t say I’ve ever been uncomfortable per se.

Regardless, it’s all fucking hilarious. If you can’t laugh at yourself, how the hell you gunna laugh about something else? That last sentence was suppose to be an imitation of Rupauls “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gunna love somebody else.” but if you didn’t know that, my reference may have gotten lost in translation.

Anyways, it’s all in good fun. I think it’s important to toughen up your skin while lifting up your spirit. That’s regardless of whether I’m able to come back with a vengeance, or stand there like the criminals in Scooby Doo once they’ve been caught. It could look like they’re out to get me, or I could see they’re taking a piss and it’s funny af. I choose the latter, and will continue to thoroughly enjoy my time in Vietnam.

What It’s Like Living In Vietnam

957AB956-CE02-456B-8E35-65AAC1B7E274.jpegI chose to move to Hanoi, Vietnam, which was an unexpected turn of events. There was a moment of silence after I told my mom the news.

“Didn’t you just tell me that Hanoi was a shit show?” She replied in confusion.

My response was “Umm yes, those were my exact words, but I never said that was a bad thing!”

I guess I like a good shit show. There are an absurd amount of motorbikes and cars in the Old Quarter of Hanoi. I see my life flash before my eyes every time I go out. It feels like a live version of the video game Frogger, when you nearly escape a car, and there are no extra lives left. They beep their horns so much I’m sure they are convinced they need to honk for every person or vehicle they pass. When locals walk by, they shove you aside like they’re Regina George from Mean Girls storming down the halls to get revenge. By the end of the night, the streets look as though a frat house just threw a rager, and sometimes I have to hold my breath walking through the markets.

Yet, it’s so rich in culture, and there is so much beauty. Even though they shove, they don’t realize they’re being a dick head because it’s just their way of getting by. They’re so friendly once you get to know them.

But guess what? I’m living my best life but not for those reasons. I love living here because of the community I’m in, the freedom that I have, and I love what I’m doing with my life.

Someone could be happily living in the bum fuck middle of nowhere. Another person could be in the most advanced, pristine city in the world, feeling like the Scrooge who had one too many drinks the night before and regrettably texted an ex.

After giving it some thought, as much as I love Hanoi, it really wouldn’t matter if I was here or anywhere else in the world. I love my life in Vietnam because I followed my joy and am living a life of freedom, fun, and adventure.

Yes, I could have easily gone back to my home country and convinced myself a 9-5 was the more safe and stable action to take in my late 20’s. However, I chose to work somewhere that fills my cup. Maybe my liver isn’t thrilled when I have to lead drinking games, but my soul is when I’m socializing with people who’s company I enjoy. 

Theres a sense of instability for sure. I know there will be a time when I move on and the future seems unclear. That said, I’d rather be happy where I am and have an unclear future in Vietnam, than be miserable and hope one day I’m happy in a place that feels stagnant.