Post travel blues

In my head, I was never going to be one of 'those' travellers who come back from a trip gushing and starry-eyed, "it changed my life!". But I think I came back with a little piece of my heart still in Saigon, unironically, in the sense that I still daydream about living there. And it won't be a stretch to say that I was really swept up in the magic that was night time Hoi An. I haven't looked at the pictures since because... just because.

I don't know what more to write. I've told the stories over and over, and while Saigon and Hanoi I've shared with people openly, Hoi An and Ha Long Bay I've kept to myself.

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What happened to the girl who couldn't get through the day without breaking down? She's been replaced by the girl who screams inside the car and runs around sounding manic on the phone. Healthier probably.

posting this from kl airport

because i can. now waiting to go to ho chi Minh city.

sleepy and crampy and grumpus. thank god i am not on Facebook and obligated to !!!!

there are white women here wearing skimpy tank tops that say NAM in hot pink. this has got to be interesting.

Skin

For a few hours after being waxed, skin feels like what it really is - rubber stretched over and folded up to make your body, keep all your organs inside. There's a weird detachment in touching and poking smooth, hairless skin, and for a moment you're aware - this is not how it should be.

I've been unselfconscious enough for the past few months to walk around hairy. I can say this time it was a choice, to put my skin through trauma and myself through an hour of silent self-beration.

A year or so ago, I didn't see the same person when I stood naked in front of the mirror. Funny how things change. Funny what love does. People jump continents and people burn villages for it. Funny what love is.