January 9-13th, 2015

Phú Quốc Island. The grand Vietnam finale. This paradise also happens to be a 35 min direct daily flight from HCMC. Straight to pristine beaches, palm trees, and delicious seafood markets. So, four days commenced of beach lounging, boat and fishing adventures, cute German boys, phosphorescence, bonfires, $5 beach massages, Russian tourist watching, hoppin’ hostels, hangovers, and general merriment. Have you looked up flights yet? Go for it.

I could tell you about those things, but think the pictures kind of speak for themselves. Instead, I’ll enlighten you with a tale of the time a new love had explosive consequences.

Something new and wonderful came into my life in Asia: hot pot. It has all my favorite things- sitting around a table with friends, fresh ingredients, knowing exactly what you’re eating, noodle soup, and chopsticks. We went a few times in Hong Kong and were thrilled to find a place down the street from our beachfront hostel in Phú Quốc for my second-to-last night.

In hindsight, the nature of hot pot is inherently risky. Thin strips of raw meat right next to things like sprouts and thai basil you’re just supposed to throw in your soup probably isn’t the most sanitary, and overall refrigeration likely not diligent. But there is a pot of boiling broth over a flame in the middle you’re supposed to throw everything in, and then transfer into your own bowl. Unconcerning for me and my iron stomach, or so I thought.

So, surprise! After this enjoyable meal/evening, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like my entire body was made of molten lava. Post-eruption, I stood up, saw a ghost in the mirror, and apparently crumpled to the ground passed out. I woke up a few moments later to a terrified Brittany standing over me, having heard the crash. But being the prepared human that she is, she helped me to bed, made me a Nalgene bottle concoction of water, powdered gatorade, and some sort of salt hydration tablet which I attempted to down. For the rest of the night, I made progress on it in between trips back to the bathroom playing a fun game of guess which orifice, and slept for  most of the day. Finally felt better the next afternoon, but I had missed out on island motorbike day which was quite tragic. But, best to be sick the last day than on the “fly 24 straight hours to get home” day.

Vietnam- a country of hard-earned lessons, as it turns out. But an amazing experience nonetheless. I can’t wait to go back and see more of it.