An American traveling to a country on the other side of the world for vacation can be daunting at times. Yet actually moving there is a whole other story. Now, technically I have been living in Singapore my whole life and many might say that this is now my home. And yes, I do actually feel at home when in Singapore. But to the locals I am still a foreigner masked by my white skin and American “accent”. Being a minority is something that is hard to adapt to. When I go back to Minnesota every summer I am surrounded by my family and friends that look and sound just like me. When I go out to eat or shop you wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd. Now, we travel to the other side of the world where I stick out like a sore thumb. I travel to countries where locals ask to take pictures with me strictly because of the way I look. Oh and if you thought that was it, let me just bring up the topic of language and help educate my friends in America by letting you know that English is not the only language in the world. Living in Singapore, I am able to travel to places where the people don’t speak any English.

7:00

I awoke suddenly to the sound of a hundred motorcycle horns roaring through my window. Slowly emerging from my pile of hotel pillows, clenching my fists in anger. The sounds of this city never seem to really stop, I have been here a week now yet have not been able to find a shelter from the constant noise. Psh, but who needs sleep anyway, no one in this damn country apparently. The sun was just starting to rise, and it seemed I was the only one in a hundred mile radius that was still in bed. Thinking, there was no point to go back to sleep forced myself to crawl out of bed, still half asleep. Today was my final day here in Vietnam. Don’t  get me wrong; I have had an amazing time, but there is only so much I can take before I hit my threshold.

Still distracted by my own anger, I had been oblivious to the fact that my dad has been banging on the door for the past 15 seconds. I open it to see him standing there with his duffel bag in hand, through the corner of my eye I then see that my parents suitcases were also laid out in front of their door. Filled with confusion I exclaim that he had told me we were leaving for the airport at seven pm that night. “No, I just told you seven tomorrow, I assumed you already knew out flight was in the morning. Better pack fast then, we leave in ten minutes.” He said before turning to go back to his room. I turned to see large mountains of clothes across the whole room, from my clean mountains to my dirty ones, it was clear that I had to get my ass packing. I dug through the clean pile looking for something I would be able to wear on the plane. Red shirt with black basketball shorts? Fine. I moved those out of the way and shoved everything else into my suitcase, having to sit on the bag so that it would actually zip.  

7:25

My family felt it would be a good idea to call a grab (The uber of asia) to the airport. It was a much safer idea than taking a regular cab, saying that two days earlier we were charged $30 USD for a cab that we would later learn should have been two dollars. We sat in the lobby for what must have been 20 minutes before I got a notification saying that he had arrived. I walked out the glass doors on to the busy streets of Vietnam; the smell of street food filled the air as cars raced by. I saw my car across the street, license plate number, 30E-272.34. It was a small brown Toyota that looked as if it was driven through a mud storm. I had to knock on the trunk for what felt like eternity before the driver realized I was asking him to open the trunk. Once actually open I slowly lifted my bag into the trunk worrying that it was gonna explode due to the amount of clothes crammed into it.

This car would be my house for the next 45 minutes. I opened the back door and sat down in the small car. Instantly noticing the heat, did this man have to clue what aircon was. I felt like I was in an oven. I peeked into the front seat to see a small Vietnamese man sitting in the driver's seat. “Hello!” I said as I sat back and tried to get comfortable. The man just smiled and nodded at me. It was currently around 7:30 and out flight was at 11. We were cutting this close; at this rate, we would be arriving at the airport 45 minutes before the plane took off. Now the heat was starting to get to me, I politely asked the driver if he could turn up the AC a little more but once again only got a smile and a nod. I tried to make hand gestures to symbolize I was hot, yet was met with even more nodding.

8:20

We are now almost halfway to the airport and sweating our asses off. Like how is this man not aware that we are literally melting in front of him. My mom and I were both in the back of the car while my dad sat in the front. As we grew near to the Airport my mom reached into her bag to get our passports ready. I sat and watched as she dug through her bag, her face turning from calm to confused. She began to dig a little faster, this time pulling everything out of the bag. She did this until everything was piled across the back of the car, everything except our passports. A look of complete terror struck her face, the last thing anyone wants on a trip is to lose their passports. She being a classic mom began to panic and dig through the clearly empty bag. While she was doing her thing me and my dad were trying to tell the driver to pull over until we figured this all out. Not knowing if the following nod meant he understood we once again turned to stupid hand gestures as a sign of communication. After that he seemed to understand what we were urgently trying to tell him. He pulled over onto the side of the road next to a rice field. It felt reassuring to know that he actually understood that time, but then it hit me once again that if we don’t find the passports we will be stuck in this country. Stuck in a country where it is a challenge to even order a water at a restaurant. The next thing me and my dad had to do was get in contact with out hotel to see if the passports were in the safe still. Our phones were basically useless here because we had no service at all. The only solution would be to use the drivers phone, and I feel like that was gonna be a lot harder to get across to the driver than it was to say, “stop…”    

In the end we went through all that to learn the passports were hidden in one of the suitcases in the trunk. Through all the hardships that may come with traveling to a foreign country, I still feel extremely blessed to be able to go to the places that I do. Mostly everyone I know that lives in the US has never left the US, being able to travel around the world each year has helped to create who I am today. Being able to meet and work with people from all kinds of different backgrounds and cultures has given me the ability to work extremely well with people, whether it be my problem solving or even my patience. I plan to continue traveling throughout the rest of my life, the ability to see things from a different perspective and be able to interact with people that don’t even speak your language are experiences that are brought out through traveling.