storytime

One of my favorite pastimes, especially when traveling (pig in mud (part 3)), is to people watch and make up stories about their lives based on behaviors and/or interactions that I observe. Truth be told, this started a long time ago as an escapism, a coping mechanism for me during my younger days, vacillating between creating stories of joy as a form of hope and of misery as a form of company.

I used to sit at my window in New York City and look down at the "ants" flitting about the sidewalks. From my second floor window at Brittany Dorm, I generally could also overhear conversations. Most of the time, I was left to my imagination. Today, I decided to venture into the sunshine (first time since the lunch in moments that matter (part 5) that ended up wiping me out for much of the last couple of days). After all, I needed to learn to walk again before I ran, and my work wife gently reminded me that perhaps the lack of sugar in my diet contributed to my lethargy.

While standing in line at Boba Guys, my eyes were initially drawn to a couple. Neither individually were striking but as a couple, they were. Both had distinct features but also looked as if they were "mutts" in their own way, with the gentleman having light eyes despite his Middle Eastern look, and the woman seemed of Asian descent but some European features. He was caught up in eating while she seemed distracted. At first, I had thought they looked like a couple that was on their first date.

While they were sitting next to two boys (one with brass hair and the other dark hair), it was not immediately obvious that they were together until a girl with brass hair who was on a nearby couch walked up to the woman before walking back to perhaps two sisters (or potential step-sisters) on the couch. Similar to the boys, they all had very distinct looks of various mix features that were different blends of the couple. Once I realized they were with the couple, I thought it was a date whereby the couple brought their extended family, and the boys were getting to know each other, similar to the girls on the couch. Individually, they did not immediately look like siblings but as a group, the overlaps became more transparent. 

I am so used to children today, like my nieces and nephews, who engross themselves in electronic gadgets to entertain themselves, that it seemed a bit at odds that the children were actually having engaging conversations with each other, while the couple were having their individual moment. Once he finished his meal, he reached out and caressed her hand across the table, lost in their own love language. I was so immersed in the visual before me that I was never quick enough to catch a good photo.

While the sunshine, sugar and walk (although I did have to stop to catch my breath a few times) were good for the healing of my body, the family was a beautiful start to healing my soul.

take a stand

...to take a knee. A year ago as his right to protest, Colin Kaepernick from San Francisco 49ers kneeled during the national anthem during a NFL game as a protest to recurring police brutality to "black lives" nationwide. Some believe that the distraction is why no team has picked up Kaepernick in the current season.

Perhaps as distraction from issues with Russian investigation or with his inability to get any significant legislation passed, the self-identified master negotiator and unifier, continued his divisive tactics by bringing up a very old issue to rally his base at a rally in Alabama Friday, by challenging the NFL owners to "fire" players like Kaepernick who do not stand for the national anthem, this coming from the man that had to be nudged by his wife during Easter to put his right hand on his heart, as dictated by the 1942 US Flag Code for civilians.

The next day, Oakland A's Bruce Maxwell became the first MLB player to kneel while his white teammate, Mark Canha, put his right hand on Maxwell's shoulders in solidarity. Maxwell grew up in Alabama came from a military family. While Roger Goodell, NFL Commissioner, had condemned POTUS (although not naming him) for his divisive comments, it was not clear how the owners and coaches would respond.

Today, the NFL responded in kind. Owners and head coaches stood with their team on the field with arms locked, hands on shoulders and/or taking a knee. A number of owners, including Robert Kraft, who had noted that he is a "good friend" of POTUS and owner of a team that has primarily identified with POTUS, and Shahid Khan, who was another $1 million + donor to POTUS, stood in solidarity with their team.

The Pittsburgh Steelers decided that solidarity for them meant not making their teammates individually decide on whether to stand or to kneel and to remove themselves from the controversy. They decided instead not to have the team on the field for the national anthem. In support of his team, Alejandro Villanueva, who was a graduate of West Point, served as an Army Ranger and did three tours in Afghanistan, stood with his hand over his heart in the tunnel during the national anthem.

The NFL has also decided to re-air its unity commercial, which was meant to be a one-time show during the Superbowl in February 2017 to demonstrate the power of the game to bring people together.

POTUS' challenge that not standing is utter disrespect for what the U.S. stands for clearly showcases his lack of knowledge of the U.S. Constitution, and the freedom that the men and women in the military have fought generations. This coming from the man who has yet to denounce or say anything negative of Russian leadership, who clearly tried to manipulate the American democracy. Something that started as a Black Lives Matter symbol has now been escalated to equality for men, women and children of any race and religion.

Similarly, with all the women speaking up in the technology industry regarding the clear discrimination (flash of light and kissing my boo-boos), it is time to stand in solidarity, and I have started discussions on this within the firm prior to my departure. I can be silent no longer. Continuing the modus operandi of pussy riots, the girl with the dragon tattoo, and hot as hell, POTUS has become a unifier, in spite of himself.

* * * * *

Update September 26, 2017:

As Villanueva's number 78 became the best selling jersey in the last day or so, some fans were burning their paraphernalia of other NFL players who chose to kneel. However, as it turns out, Villanueva's actions turned out to be a plan gone bad. He had planned on being with his team in the darkness of the tunnel, but in the front in order to have visual of the flag. As he was vying for a view, and as others were clearing the field for the anthem, he got separated from his team when the music started. He froze in his spot.

"I made Coach Tomlin look bad, and that is my fault and my fault only. I made my teammates look bad, and that is my fault and my fault only...Unfortunately I threw my teammates under the bus, unintentionally.

I've learned that I don't know what it's like to be from Dade County, I don't know what it's like to be from Oakland. I can't tell you I know what my teammates have gone through, so I'm not going to pretend like I have the righteous sort of voice to tell you that you should stand up for the national anthem. It's protected by our constitution and our country. It's the freedom of speech."

~ Alejandro Villanueva, Pittsburgh Steelers No. 78 

moments that matter (part 5)

It has been a tough few days. I am thankful that most of it was spent unconscious. The waking hours were difficult to focus on work or any pre-assignment for bootcamp, so I was left to my thoughts. In the wake of Law of Attraction, I am trying really hard not to think about the trauma from the initial procedure. While I have slight fears of vaginismus or some skewed impact on my ability to enjoy the pleasures of intimacy, I want to be able to separate the physical from the emotional trauma.

buds of love

Word has gotten out regarding my health (without too many details out of respect). A few have sent brief messages with positive energy while others have been kind to not disrupt me and get updates from my "work wife" (one day I will write a post on how much she has meant to me). She reminded me yesterday how many people out there care for me. Interestingly, while I view that I have more male friends than female in general, I am so blessed with the sistas (near and far) I do have and how they all rallied, leaving care packages of fruit, soup/broth, probiotics, healing drops, etc. and have periodic check-ins to make sure I did not pass out.

Some offered me to temporarily move in with them so that I am not alone. Luckily, I had the energy to make it out for a lunch with a sister from another mother who was visiting from Vietnam, and made a special trip to San Francisco during her tour of the U.S. just to see me.

As noted in hallmark holiday, I am a fan of surprises so it brightened up my day to randomly receive beautiful bouquets today that I have on my dresser across my bed as a reminder to me of the love in my life. It also seems apropos that it is the autumnal equinox where the day equals the night, at least at the equator. So with the darkness comes the sunlight, and a new phase for me to look forward to.

bloody hell

I had a sigh of relief when the doc cleared me to go home early this morning after pulling out the vaginal packing and not seeing ongoing bleeding. The pad they had put under me was clean as I got up and got dressed. Since she was on call at the hospital, they had put a hospital bracelet on me in case I had to head to the operating room that she had booked as a default plan.

I had not eaten since lunch yesterday so stopped by Starbucks for a muffin and chai latte on my way home. With those sensitive nerve endings, I knew that there were fluids moving within my body but figured it was just the body's way of cleaning itself. I had not even touched my muffin by the time I realized that the fluid movement seemed unusually high. A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed my fears and after it seemed to stop filling up the toilet, I thought it was safe to change, including topping it off with a fresh pad.

I barely got back into bed before I felt that it had not stopped, realizing that after another toilet full of red and the dripping not stopping, that perhaps doubling up my pads may not be sufficient. I had the foresight to get a change of clothes, and started texting my friend and doc. The lack of blood took its toll and I found myself constantly sitting down to catch my breath waiting for my friend. The doc called me with instructions including calling 911 as my picture to her had her alarmed enough to not wait. As I was laying on the kitchen floor with the door open, there was something surreal about the moment that I could not place.

As 5 EMTs came in, it occurred to me that I had dreamt about this recently. At the time, I had thought it was a very odd visual memory mixed in with an entirely different theme from the dream. Luckily, my friend arrived in time of them getting me into the ambulance to coordinate. I was worried about her relatively new car and had eyed a beach towel downstairs that I was going to grab, but as they switched me to the hospital bed and I saw the bloody gurney, my first thought was that I was glad it wasn't my friend's car. The nurses had difficulty drawing three vials of blood, as the blood seemed to want to flow elsewhere. I did learn that the body can survive on two-thirds of its usual blood volume as they were discussing potential transfusion. I still had the hospital bracelet on from earlier this morning.

As with the oocyte retrieval, I went out like a light, and apparently was not aware of any update from my doc; fortunately, she followed up with a call to remind me. We had dinner plans at Lazy Bear, a fixed menu dinner that you had to purchase tickets a month in advance. I was determined to make it, as it was also a friend's birthday. In the end, I was not allowed to go and order to get rest and be horizontal. Of course, I got chastised by my brother who became my emergency contact and default family doc for not even letting him know that anything was going on. He must have informed my sister, the anesthesiologist, who advised me not to be alone post surgery.

As we had to get replacements for Lazy Bear, since two others did not want to attend if I wasn't going, as it was my event that I really wanted to experience, a few others at work had reached out to check in. I did tell him that I could have used a cuddle yesterday, before today's event. I had sent him kissing my boo-boos. He had made a point that over the years, he did not feel as if I initiated, primarily texting and in life ways rather than transactional texts. While I tend to mirror people's communications style, and had communicated that, I had heard his concerns and had made efforts since returning. We all have our lives, and he's busy acclimating to new team and new job.

I don't often reach out for help - lot of that is based on full circle (part 8). To me, communicating that I wished for a cuddle from him is initiating. Perhaps this is another episode of lost 'n found and as with that gentleman, he initiated and pushed despite my hesitation with the age difference, sometimes people do not know how they would react until experiencing it, which I understand. However, I disclosed to him what happened with the other gentleman, and he still danced the dance. A part of me is disappointed, a part of me knows to focus on my recovery. In the end, I am blessed for my friend who was there for me throughout the day, as well as very kind people who interacted with me today, from the EMTs to nurses to doctors, and my siblings, the doctors. full circle (part 7) serves as a reminder to live in the moment and not fret over a past that cannot be changed.

* * * * *

Update September 21, 2017:

It turns out I lost over 3 units of blood (or over 25%). Luckily, I did not need a transfusion but it has made my body anemic and dehydrated, causing weakness, lethargy and headaches. 😔

* * * * *

Update September 28, 2017:

In an act of kindness, the primary EMT who worked on me texted me today to check up on me. Given the sexual harassment at work (kissing my boo-boos), I initially hesitated to respond, assuming ulterior motives. I am glad I listened to my inner child and responded in kind...Law of Attraction.

kissing my boo-boos

As children, sometimes pain is more mental than physical. That is why when someone kisses a child's boo-boo, all is good with the world. Children cry many times as a reaction to an adult's facial expression so we learn to smile and laugh after a child falls in hopes that it is somehow encouragement that the fall was a cool thing to do.

Today was a painful day for me. It was with a heavy heart from flash of light that I started to resolve by turning in my resignation. After spending almost a quarter of a century devoted to the firm, including sacrificing critical parts of my personal life, I could no longer associate myself with one infiltrated with misogyny and racism. Since I have repatriated back to the U.S., I have had two married partners attempt to have sex with me, both times trying to get me drunk under the guise of mentoring and advise for the "new girl in town". One even was so arrogant that he had already booked a hotel room and had an excuse to his wife as to why he had to stay in the city for work. 

However, the "new girl" was just "fresh meat". Another single partner, whom I had rejected a few times, in a drunken stupor thought it best to try to shame me in front of my team at a happy hour for dating younger men, as he believed it was inappropriate, although it was entirely acceptable for him to date younger women. Unfortunately, one of these men became one of my immediate reports who would influence my performance. With him and a number of other male partners, I witnessed how they would push a male senior manager for promotion by giving him credit for "training" a staff person who worked with him for a month or two, while stating that a female senior manager, whom the staff worked for two years with, benefited from the tutelage of the male senior manager. The "leader" also avoided interacting with me or giving me the courtesy and respect as a partner, even going as far as going to my senior managers and managers for information on my projects.

Same discrimination was done as it related to staffing of projects and performance ratings of staff, turning a blind eye to unethical behavior of other male partners. Yet, I did not formally report any of this. I was vocal though. A different leader had stated to me that is why people like me should stick around and speak up, but a voice of one in a sea of many, especially when I am not always invited to the table becomes a fruitless exercise of going around the hamster wheel. I reported these informally though, including a leader of both of the leaders noted, as I was hoping that he could be on the lookout for potential retaliation. However, he said in passing that he didn't believe me on the sexual harassment. Perhaps, deep down I was hoping that someone would formally report it on my behalf so that it would minimize the retaliation that would come my way.

I consulted with others internal and external and it was unanimous that at someone my level, it would just ruin my reputation and given the lack of transparency, especially in performance evaluations, it would be impossible for me to prove any retaliation. So I kept silent. I now have to deal with the tremendous guilt that I could not do anything to help those below me, from my senior manager who was so devoted to the firm and is a superstar yet having to go through such disappointment at how the firm treats people to the ladies that reached out to me to report their individual stories. However, unlike those I informally reported to that failed me, I am determined to do the right thing including formally reporting their concerns, as is our policy. While certain actions while I was on vacation had frighten some to withdraw their participation, I am hoping that when they called me in Vietnam that something I said may have given them strength to continue to try to improve the culture.

I cannot change the past but I no longer have to remain silent, and hopefully my actions can lend them a voice.

* * * * *

I have been blessed with amazing full-body orgasms (reclaiming the cunt (part 3) and face of the girl (part 3)). I used to think it was normal until a few partners had noted that they had never seen such a thing. With that, comes a cost of having a lot of nerve endings.

The LEEP procedure was supposed to be a relatively easy in-office procedure. While I had gotten the usual dosage of local anesthesia (20 ml), the doctor decided to give me an additional 10 ml, the maximum that she can give without a licensed anesthesiologist. My tolerance for pain is high. My masseuse has the San Francisco 49ers and Golden State Warriors as clients. She generally leaves bruises on other women yet I have never gotten a bruise from her massages. I did not even know that the doctor had completed my egg harvesting for oocyte cryopreservation as I felt no pain or cramps. I don't usually have cramps when Aunt Flo visits. Even a masseuse in Vietnam who walked on my back noted that somehow working on me is like working on two people given my pain tolerance.

So I was not prepared for the immense pain - it was as if someone was cutting me open without any anesthesia at all. I cried the entire time and went back and forth from almost hyperventilation to not breathing at all from the pain. The procedure was further prolonged as I also seem to have a lot of blood vessels there as well. When drawing blood, my veins usually are free flowing but with pressure, it seals quickly. Even after a 10-minute break with old-fashion gauze packing vs. cauterizing and to let my pain settle, the flow did not stop.

When the doc gave me the option of going to operating room this evening or vaginal packing with alternative of operating room in the morning if the bleeding did not stop, I opted for the latter as I could not emotionally take any more today. It was the most traumatic experience for me based on my limited memory banks (safe haven), and it may be a while before I can separate that from my amazing orgasms. Luckily, after a bit of a dry spell, I was fortunate to have a lovely "romp in the hay" recently to be fresh in my memories.

As I was walking home, I realized that this is one of those rare occasions where I "regret" not having someone "to go home to". I did not tell many about my procedure - primarily my senior manager and masseuse who both offered to be there for me. A small group of friends from Asia knew as I mentioned in passing as it related to an entirely unrelated but related conversation yesterday. Because of location and kindness, I know that the man from lost 'n found would have readily been there to lend a warm body and cuddles; however, in the end, I rather be alone than hidden (hide 'n seek). In the end, it results in the same thing...being alone, except one I can salvage my authenticity.

chain smoking

The first time I had attended the Singapore Night Race five years ago, my memories included a sweet moment with moments that matter (part 4) and so I had associated Maroon 5, particularly the songs from their album that they were promoting Overexposed, to that moment in my life.

Although in a last minute negotiation, the Singaporean government had extended its arrangement with Formula 1 for another four years, it was promoted as potentially the last race with some marquis performers. When I saw The Chainsmokers on the lineup, as well as a friend moving to Singapore, it seemed a divine sign to make it happen.

It was a bit of a mix feeling with the association of the duo to 11:11 (part 3). However, I was determined to let it all go. I was a bit surprised when I woke up on 9/9 and received a happy belated birthday message that was sent at 1:22am his time. In all our years, I have always wished birthday wishes on his date but had never received the same until now. Perhaps it is part of the full circle.

Regardless, I had a wonderful time with one of my first friends and one of my last friends during my assignment in Vietnam. The latter was someone who had spontaneously contacted me on Facebook (ironically where he started a new role in Singapore) at the time. We marvel that we stayed in contact over the years as well as that we have no real mutual friends in the small community of expats.

He had never been to F1, and as with children, it is always a blessing to see things through the eyes of someone going through something for the first time. The excitement from the night was not limited to that though and the energy in the air that I had felt the first time I went was exponentially intense and contagious. In so many ways, the experience had a lot of full circles. While many were busy recording snippets on their phone, I marveled in living in the now and absorbing the sights, sounds and love of the night.

It was perhaps one of the best nights of my life, and maybe there is some significance to the best set that my friend recorded lasted 3 minutes and 33 seconds.

two wheelers

credit: Baptiste LeJeune

Bicycle sharing has been in operation in major cities for over a decade, with Citi Bike in NYC, for example. Docking stations took up vital car parking spots throughout the city. Over time, it became the new normal.

Starting in China, with the ease of technology and GPS, a number of startups (e.g., Mobike, Ofo, oBike) have been competing over the last few years for the dockless bicycle sharing market. Venture capitalists have infused millions and their markets have expanded to Europe, Australia and other Asian markets. The wheels unlock with a code, and GPS allows a user to locate the nearest bicycle.

In many major cities though, many have complained about the clutter. Although users get points deducted for traffic violations and/or inappropriate "parking" of the bicycles, the concept of dockless gets mired with appropriate parking spaces. While one would think that people would just park these in front of their doors for door-to-door service, it was really random where these were "hanging out" (e.g., in a pedestrian tunnel, middle of a field, inside a private and secure parking garage, in the middle of an alley).

While Singaporeans appear too orderly for such thing to arise, there have been protestors in other cities who have taken the bicycles and hung them up in trees and other outlandish spots.

* * * * *

Update September 20, 2017:

Mobike made its debut in the U.S. market by launching a pilot program of 180 bicycles. While Washington, D.C. already has a dock-based Capital Bikeshare program, officials believe this would serve a different market and in different neighborhoods. However, the company is planning on mobilizing a local team if necessary to move and re-park the bicycles neatly.

Ironically, Spin, a U.S. based startup, also launched a pilot with initial 100 bicycles in D.C. Although it has also launched pilots in other cities, including Bay Area, it has been in very select neighborhoods like South San Francisco, rather than it being as prevalent as the dockless bicycles in Singapore and China.

full circle (part 7)

I have spent the last 16 years wondering why (a lil' part of history and carpe diem). My cousin recently told me that when her uncle looked at my tử vi (astrological charts), he had noted that he had never come across someone that was such a risk taker. After 9/11, in my search for answers, I have pushed my limits in cougartown and ftale almost in a daring way of challenging the universe to take me.

While my approach has not changed, I am learning that my intent has. I have learned that no matter what happens when taking risks, I am a survivor. Always have been, and I have confidence that my spiritual self will always guide me towards the light at the surface of whatever depths I may find myself in.

With POTUS, we seem to be reliving states of entitlement and supremacy but I do believe that love trumps hate and hopefully, society has learned from its history (truth or dare). moments that matter (part 6) was probably my first lesson from 9/11, but it is also not my last. While the stone skipping series (stone skipping (part 3)) is a reminder as to why I was spared, I am learning that the true reason I was spared is simply...to live.

23 vs. 42

While 42 may be considered unlucky in Japanese culture because it sounds like the word death, it is also the answer to the ultimate question of life, universe and everything, as calculated by Deep Thought (a supercomputer) over 7.5 million years in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. In the last 24 hours, 23 seems to be the answer...at least in some aspects.

In my quest to search for happy ending massages for women in Asia, my friend last night noted that there is a massage parlor in Danang where menu item #23 is the magic formula. A Korean woman had blogged about her experience where she happened upon this and towards the end, as she decided to also participate by performing oral on him, he had noted that it was not the norm. She went back the next day and after that she booked him for the whole day.

My other friend noted that for some reason she had been picking the number 23 lately when she buys lotto. I happen to be pulling out my VND for something and on one of my 500,000 VND bills, someone had written 23 on the bill and circled it. My friend immediately grabbed it and noted that she was going to use the bill to purchase a lotto ticket today. When paying for dim sum this morning, I had forgotten about that until afterwards. Luckily, I did not pay with the same bill. 

We had a spa service at her house as her son was napping and she had noted that she was going to buy the lotto ticket while he was napping, but ended up getting lazy and figured she would go later. As she went on a walk with her son and stopped by the shop to get the ticket, she had missed the cutoff for today's drawing. She let out a loud "FUCK" when she saw the number 23 as the pick for the day. Sometimes one has to act on the signs to not lose out on the opportunities that the universe provides. 😉

seeing white (part 1)

After a few unsuccessful attempts, my friend is finally pregnant with her first. They threw a coed shower for her today, and as time moves, so do friendships. They have mostly had expat friends rather than local; however, as I look around the room, I did not recognize anyone other than the mutual friend I showed up with. None of those others had even attended or been invited to their wedding two years ago.

It would seem that during her last few years of trying to get pregnant, she may have become a different person. Many of her old friends that I had met through them were intentionally not invited, as she was evasive as to the reason. In a way, my friend and I were an afterthought - we were the only Vietnamese in the apartment as well.

By ways of deduction based on the Law of Attraction, are their current friends a reflection of whom they have become? It is a small apartment and there were perhaps twenty adults and a slew of children. As the mistress of ceremony was trying to get us to break up into two teams for a game, one group in the living room and another in the kitchen, my friend and I found that we were the only two in the kitchen before the father-to-be joined us. When we moved into the living area to one of the sides, one of the other participants commented that I was part of the kitchen team, at which point I responded that I was one of three people so we decided to join the others. 

Prior to that, the mistress of ceremonies had asked us all to move to the living room. Given that there were limited seats, I moved to the perimeter to sit on the floor. One of the other women who was sitting on the dining room chair picked up her chair to move to the living area. She stared at me as I continued to look at her. Without blinking or looking away, she set down her chair right in front of me, turned around and sat down, fully blocking me from the rest of the group. Whether I was the help or an invited guest should be irrelevant to her actions and white priviledge. 

Turns out that she hangs out with my friend and her husband on a weekly basis. I am happy for them that they are on their way to their next milestone of relationship escalator, but am perplexed and sad as to the path that they took to get there. Ironically, although I have not seen her in years and our interactions on WhatsApp are intermittent, in the game of eight questions of how well do you know the parents-to-be, of all the others, I had won with the most correct responses.

midnight madness

Supposedly, one should avoid getting married and opening a new business during ghost month (the living dead). That did not stop a friend/"sista from another mother" from doing a civil ceremony Thursday (Sept. 7) in Italy, which we broadcasted on FaceTime, nor did it detour a number of stores from bypassing a critical feng shui date of 9/9 (luck be the lady).

H&M (Hennes & Mauritz) is a global clothing retailer. Although it is a Swedish company, it is well known in the U.S. more as a discount retailer, carrying low-end collections from designers and celebrities, such as Karl Lagerfeld and Madonna. Because of this, it seemed surreal that the grand opening of H&M in Ho Chi Minh City called for a countdown clock, red carpet with celebrities and midnight opening with locals queuing hours in advance.

With the luxury taxes placed on such brand names, I am not sure if the price point in Vietnam would result in the discount concept. However, Zara, a comparable peer, seems to be doing well in the Vietnam market even with its price point. Regardless, it is not clear if it is the "scarcity" principle or FOMO that is the driver for the patience to stand in line for hours for the chance to buy clothes from H&M at midnight on a Friday night. Somehow, I think the quality is not significantly different from the clothes in Saigon Trade Center at the Hermes price. 

same same but different

The skyline has changed. There are multiple Starbucks and the Golden Arches seemed to have made its debut. Lê Lói Street is practically unrecognizable with the construction to build a subway. Yet, as I spent my first day in District 1, navigating new and old spots, many things are still the same.

Vietnamese white coffee is a combination of strong black coffee with sweetened condense milk. As I am not a coffee drinker, I tend to substitute it for black tea. However, in good old Vietnamese style of not thinking outside of the box (a box of crayons), if it was not on the menu, the wait staff could not take the order, despite having all the vital ingredients. Substituting tea for coffee in Vietnamese white coffee or substituting sweetened condense milk for milk and sugar with an order of a pot of tea somehow was overly complicated.

birthday bubbles

It continues to amaze me that I am remembered not only by my face but also by name (at your service). For some of these establishments, it has been two years, others more than four. From the bánh cuốn (street food) lady to a foot massage lady who has never worked on me but had seen me in the establishment to the spa owner who automatically knew how deep I like the pressure, it felt good to be back. I even got a glass of bubbles from a restaurant manager who remembered my birthday.

Tricia & Verona are expensive for local customers as tailors; however, their quality and price tend to cater to expats. Over the last six years, I have maybe used them three times maximum, of which one was for a bridesmaid dress that my friend had organized for her wedding in 2013 after I repatriated. Having sent in measurements beforehand, I had only planned to come in a week before the wedding for any last minute fittings.

popping out...almost

However, Verona had remembered my measurements to be much smaller (e.g., thinner) than what I had submitted so adjusted accordingly as she had assumed that the measurements were incorrect. They were so confident about the prior measurements that they didn't even cut the pattern to have much wiggle room. Since that time, my friend out of principle no longer uses them although she initially introduced me to them. The groomsmen and their friends though were making bets as to when I would pop out of my bridesmaid dress. As they put it, it was not a matter of "if" but "when".

Since I had only a week left here, I did not have time to explore new tailors. Besides, my friend's principles are not the same as mine, as it was not my wedding that they had put stress on. Quite frankly, Tricia & Verona had intended to provide the extra customer service based on repeat customers, and knowing our personal profile and measurements. It could have completely gone the other way if my measurements that were sent over were, in fact, incorrect, and they did not have time to correct it. When picking fabric color this time, Verona noted that as my clothes tended to be more neutral and/or subtle so for a fun outfit, she suggested I got for a brighter color such as burnt sienna. I was slightly taken aback when she stated it so confidently as if she had been observing my wardrobe over the years.

As the foot massage lady commented that she had not seen me come in the in a very long time, my other friend who was with me noted that perhaps she was just making conversation (yes, we were texting each other as we sat next to each other); however, I am not so sure given my recent experiences in the last 48 hours. As for special orders, I soon learned that it was better to order the pot of tea, and then ask for sweetened condensed milk after the tea has been brought out.

the living dead

The 7th month of the lunar calendar is ghost month, especially for those who follow Buddhism or Taoism. It is said that the spirits who may have been confined to hell get a month of parole where they can associate with the living. The 15th of the month is considered Pavarana (Zhongyuan or Yu Lan Pen) Day (or Hungry Ghost Festival), which is a day to feast the spirits to please and pacify them, especially any restless ones who may be back to cause misfortune.

As my friend's aunt (22 and 11:11 (part 6)) was channelling what the spirits had to show her as it related to me, it seemed as if many of my ancestors came at her from all angles. She noted that many of them are stuck, and suggested that I should help to set them free. It seemed apropos with ghost month, specifically with today being the 15th of the 7th month. She was also very specific in the temple that would have the appropriate monks to do the blessings...One Pillar Pagoda (Nam Thiên Nhất Trụ).

While I may not believe in organized religions, I do believe that every soul is entitled to have their beliefs and in so doing, may be trapped in the trappings of such beliefs. Out of respect for my ancestors and loved ones, I felt obligated, yet honored, that I had an opportunity of being in the right place at the right time to lend a helping hand. Although my mother had texted me the names, my ancestry app helped me fill in the year of death, and my friend's mom and driver were kind enough to make the journey with me and walk me through the traditions for Cầu Siêu (the deceased) and Cầu An (the sick), as well as appropriate accent marks needed to get the names accurate.

As for the male spirit, she still saw him but he was a lot lighter than the last time she saw him two years ago, and seemed ready to move on as well. It is interesting that the default for Vietnamese is to think that not getting married was a curse, rather than the perspective that perhaps the male spirit was protecting me from the wrong relationship(s) (face of the girl (part 1) and 22). There have been times in the past few months when I thought he may have moved on that I felt that I missed his company; however, I, too, am a lot lighter than I was two years ago and I also hope that he, as well as my ancestors, feel light enough to take flight to everlasting bliss.

soul sistas

bubbles welcome for the pocket rocket

gangnam style birthday

It was not only a holiday in U.S., but also one in Vietnam. The airport was packed at 1 am, especially at the landing visa. With all the time to kill waiting for my name to be called, I switched on Wi-Fi. Similar to beach angel, my friend was waiting outside with her driver and new friend (who supposedly reminded her and her husband of me) with a bottle of bubbles and "cheeky". We spent all night with friends of old and new with not a wink of sleep as we rolled into the girls luncheon the next day for my birthday.

I have historically had more male friends for numerous reasons, perhaps a lot of it was that I did not naturally come from the same space as many of those in reclaiming the cunt (part 5). However, somehow in the last few years, I seem to have crossed paths with some wonderful women that similar to those in full circle (part 6) who have very different perspectives in life have turned out to be sisters from the same soul family. 

master photobomber got photobombed!

In one packed weekend, for various reasons, we were all able to get together to celebrate my birthday and the beginnings of a new phase in my life. There are no other people in my life that I would have wanted more to share this moment with. Some things change yet there are things that and people who do not change in ones' lives for the better. Love is love!