I’ll admit it: when I was in Japan for those ten days in August, I didn’t get it. Everything was so quiet… so mercilessly efficient and effective… so… helpful! The fact that the trains were on time to the MILLISECOND made my free-spirited soul panic.
And yet, I am now starting to get it.
Sitting in Saigon’s hottest new cafe, the Japanese-run “Ministry of Food” (“MOF”), I gazed at my green tea and red bean ice cream (with chocolate gelato hugging [...Read More!]
The Vietnam war slashed its knife through America. My parents marched in anti-war protests, sprinting from billy-club smashing police, and aching with frustration at the movement’s powerlessness to stop the conflict. My father became a teacher to avoid being thrown into the bloody battle overseas; others were tragically drafted and deployed. Even today, new Vietnam War films, books, and stories emerge each month. The Vietnam war is deep within us as Americans.
And yet, if WE [...Read More!]
This next post is dedicated to the witty, wise, and w-ridiculous Ray Newton (pictured, right, in the classy purple shirt). Ray was a student in my English class for four straight years (the lucky duck!) from ninth grade to twelfth. I watched Ray grow from a sunglasses-wearing pup who stared in awe at the Aquarium fishtanks during our field trip until we forcibly pulled him out, to a sunglasses-wearing scholar who had the funniest (but also most insightful) [...Read More!]
Kolajo’s mission directive was clear: Locate and ingest the Pho at the famous Vietnamese chain, Pho 24, thus confirming or refuting that it deserves its title as Best Place to Eat Pho in the World (according to the recently published Guardian article).
I set out at noon, zinging with the thrill of Ho Chi Minh’s energy, refusing cyclo ride hawkers every three steps, and being absolutely, positively terrified of the traffic of Saigon.
Basically, there are a gabillion motorcycles here. People [...Read More!]
“One dollar only to Pham ngo Lao,” the taxi driver said, holding open the taxi door. The blazing lights of Ho Chi Minh City ricocheted off the insane 9pm traffic next to the bus station, and I felt dizzy. “Perfect,” I moaned, staggering into the seat and pulling my backpack behind me.
“I am so glad to be off that bus!” I cried, leaning against the taxi’s soft interior. “16 hours is a long journey!” The taxi [...Read More!]
My name is Lillie and I thank you for reading and taking part in this journey.
I'm the Boston coordinator of a national event on extended travel on 9/14/10. Sign up for details at: MeetPlanGo.com!
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