hamster wheel

Convincing my mother to allow me to adopt one of the newborns from my teacher's children's hamster's batch of babies was probably my first lesson in negotiation skills (full circle (part 6)). One of the traumas in my life was experiencing the death of Fuzzy, which similar to full circle (part 4) resulted in my mother never allowing us to have any more pets.

Fuzzy was a gentle and loving soul. He allowed us to hold him in the palm of our hands and fall asleep while we caressed him. In hindsight, I realized that when I needed to feel love or calmness in my life, I would pick him up and hold him in such a way. For a period of my life, he was love in a world of loneliness.

At some point, I wanted Fuzzy to explore the world (of our house). I convinced my parents to get him a clear ball rather than the hamster wheel in his cage for him to run around and see different things. Perhaps his gentle spirit and having Fuzzy be one of the family resulted in his trip to run errands with my siblings and parents that ended up in his final moments without me.

In the last few months, it seemed as if the universe was giving me signs of my growth and progress. Perhaps I got too confident in the experiences that were being manifested. In a moment of truth, I finally saw how he saw me in relation to others in his life, and realized that my progress may have been a hallucination for me to have manifested someone who made me feel 'unworthy' in his eyes when I know I am not so. I now understand how Fuzzy felt in that plastic ball that allowed him to see different things but yet the reality is that he is still caged in a hamster ball and not truly running free.

culo up

Since a spontaneous yet fateful motorcycle tour around Bangkok, I have always loved motorcycles. The irony though is although it is on my bucket list to own one, I have not quite learned how to ride one, which would require quite a bit of customization given my size.

In some countries, it is fairly common to own a scooter, motorbike or motorcycle, yet I have found that there is some common personality trait that would draw someone to owning certain types of motorcycles, and perhaps that is the trait that appeals to my adventurous side (face of the girl (part 1)).

So when offered a trip to Caorle to see the Adriatic Sea on the last weekend of summer on motorcycles to avoid the traffic, given the crowds, I was more than game. My motorcycle host though was coming from his family's country estate in the mountains, and while he owned a few motorcycles, his options were limited to what he had stored at the country house.

My friend dubs it the 'culo (ass) up' bike. It is designed as a motorcycle for racing, and not very practical for passengers although it has an option to attach a passenger seat. Given its design, the passenger is sitting higher up than the rider, which results in a very uncomfortable position that probably works for shorter rather than longer rides. With the ride being approximately 40 minutes each way, my body was definitely sore for days. Luckily, my companions offered to provide massages, including one whom I found out had studied to be a professional masseuse in his career explorations.

Caorle, known as Little Venice, is a beautiful little beach town with colorful buildings and history. The Sanctuary of the Madonna dell'angelo had its own claim to a miracle in 1727 when the entire town was flooded while the church on the sea was left unscathed. It even has its very own leaning tower, one of the few circular bell towers in Italy.

The Adriatic Sea is shallow in general, with average depth of 173 meters. However, most of the northern part of the sea is less than 100 meters, which was amazing to see and great for families with small children. It was as if everyone is walking on water for as far as the eyes could see. With shallow water comes warm water temperatures even for Northern Italy.

The fellows' idea to take motorcycles rather than a car was a great idea given the immense traffic at the end of the evening as families were taking advantage of the last days of summer. While it was great to be able to swerve in and out of traffic between the cars on the way home, I did miss the ability to hit high speeds on a racing motorcycle. My host though was kind enough to oblige when he could with a few pop-a-wheelies and slowing to a crawl in order to hit speeds of 160km/hr, even if for a short stint. Though sore and tired, we ended the day with great laughs over pizza roulette.

syzygy

I have always believed in magic and miracles (or said a different way, that we are not alone, left with coincidences in life). As I have opened my heart and mind to such possibilities, I have started to notice more of these serendipitous moments in my life as alignment of the sun, stars and moon.

Padova is the second largest college town in  Italy with a number of different universities represented. Since classes do not resume until October, it was mostly populated with local residents. Galileo Galilei taught math here for 18 years. His astronomical observatory was housed at La Specola di Padova. Padova is also where the famous Italian aperol spritz, an aperitif cocktail, originated.

The town center is mostly closed off to autos. Most people travel by bicycles, many are fairly vintage as well since bicycles are subject to the highest thefts in the city so residents have learned to not bother to own the more expensive versions. Although I am used to see bicycles in San Francisco as a mode of transportation to and from work for many of the software engineers, it was adorable to see the locals go bar hopping via bicycles. Many had baskets and the little bells that reminded me of childhood.

From the beginning of booking the trip (with new templates...the party continues) with a one-way ticket as a fulfillment of stamp collection, I made no plans and decided to follow the wind wherever it may blow. There were so many moments throughout my travels in Italy where I felt that this is exactly where I need to be at this moment in time.

In its simplicity, the biggest 'aha' moment for me that left me with a huge grin and a bounce in my step was in taking a picture of a typical Italian casa in a cute courtyard in Padova. As I put the camera up to my face to snap the photo, I noticed a couple and a bicyclist approaching the left of the screen. They slowed down as they saw me with the camera, and without any cues, the bicyclist circled the courtyard and left the way he came, as if that was always his intent to come and circle the courtyard, while the couple waited for his departure before they leaned in for a romantic kiss and loving embrace. Both represented quintessential Italy. For me, they were where they needed to be at the exact moment in time.

crushing grapes

Well almost.

I was never a fanatic for I Love Lucy, but the episode where she and her best friend stomped on grapes to make wine seems to have stuck with me as one of those cool experiences. I finally decided to join my friend who owns a prosecco label to harvest season in Valdobbiadene, the finest prosecco region in Italy.

While they no longer crush grapes by stomping on them, they also generally harvest with machines. However, the beauty of Valdobbiadene is that the vineyards are on the mountain side, too steep for machinery. Every harvest is entirely done by hand. In many cases, the vineyards are family owned, and as each section of land is so diverse in its topography (e.g., soil, limestone, rainfall, sunlight), harvest even within the same vineyard is usually done when an agronomist or viticulturist determines  that various vines have the appropriate sugar content, so are done in batches.

My first experiencing harvesting with the top agronomist in Valdobbiadene and his family was definitely an unforgettable experience. The forecast called for rain, which would have made the steep hills challenging as well as the battle to beat the rain, in fears of it diluting the fruit content. With waterproof booties, long socks, and clippers in tow, we were prepared for what nature had in store for us. However, she graced us with a beautiful sunny day with crisp air and the magnificent aroma of grapes and slight fermentation. 

Although his vineyard is less than an acre, this is his passion, and harvest is family time for him, ranging at least three generations. Every vine is passed over at least by two sets of eyes with neighbors helping each other. Lunch was prepared by the matriarchy of the clan, and served on a picnic table nestled in the vineyards with all the fineries of Italian culinary delights of prosciutto, cheese, pasta, olives, peppers, prosecco, torte, and caffé perfecto (coffee with homemade grappa).

While I did not understand everything that was said, I shared in the laughs and family frivolity such as when the parents pointed out the massive hickey that the older son had on his neck, resulting in his face turning beet red. While other vignerons were selling their best harvest in many years to vintners, Giovanni chose to keep his batch to make his own blend of bubbles for personal use.

They did offer the silly American an opportunity to fulfill my dream of crushing grapes by throwing some poorer quality grapes into a bowl so that I could stick a foot on it but the dream was just in living out the day with a beautiful and gracious family rather than some silly stomping of grapes.

calming the mind

Similar to 22, it is fascinating how the universe (and my male spirit) rallies. Within the last week, I have had the fortune of four men in my life reach out to check in on me. One we went on an amazing date (p(h)et-life) before life happened. Another I have never met in person. We matched while he was in my town for a wedding a few years ago, and due to emergency surgery, he couldn't meet me in Cape Town when I was in his hood in 2016.

They all reminded me how although we may not be compatible in the end (well, except the one where we are picking up where we left off), I have been blessed with amazing men in my life. We not only helped each other discover a bit more of ourselves during our times together, but also have remained true to basic caring and kindness in remaining in each other's lives.

As I reflect on the couple of people (and perhaps this latest) who do not remain friends after relationships morph (absolution), it is not because any were more or less toxic/volatile than the other. The common denominator were the people involved (when it rains, it pours). There was a pattern with those that they never stayed friends with any of their exes. While I generally would ask the question during a relationship when getting to know someone, it occurred to me that I did not make a habit of it, like I did with observing how people treat wait staff and strangers.

The other common denominator was how they approached difficult situations. We all have our unproductive behaviors when discussing or 'hashing' out things with others. Some even call for a time-out. Some result in shouting matches. In many ways I start to mirror my partner's style of engagement (whether productive or not), despite my best attempts usually. 

The relationship from moments that matter (part 4) taught me the most healthy way of engaging for me...regardless of my tone or volume, he would position himself next to me, touching me somewhere (e.g., caressing lower back, leg or even hand), hear me out without interruption, and then shared his perspective without interruption (or vice versa depending on who was introducing the topic at hand). We did not always agree but we respected each other for our views.

I also never closed the chapter from lost 'n found. He was one of the four men, and we have had a number of misunderstandings in our relationship. Yet despite being a millennial, he immediately calls (rather than text) when he detects any tension in texts. He prefers to meet to talk through things in person even when I do not believe there is anything left to discuss. He is patient and kind though as he continues to check in even if that is months later to bring up the topic.

On our usual bench in the Presidio almost six months later, it would seem as if he was not ashamed of the age gap after all. His close friends knew about me. On the flip side, he thought I was pushing him away because I was getting feelings and wanted to change our relationship without knowing how to effectively communicate it. Our communication got entirely lost in texts. In reality his intent was to protect me from his judgmental roommates although he offered to introduce me to them, I am at this stage in my life that I no longer care to be around such narrow minded people so it was an easy decision to pass.

While he is very traditional and conservative in his mindset (e.g., relationship escalator), it would seem as if I left some adventurous mark on him when he reached out last night to ask about a toy (face of the girl (part 2)) that I had introduced him to, and he wanted to try it out with his new lady love. I was surprised that he remembered the name of it as it has been years since I had shared it with a partner, which turned out to have only been him.

Unlike these men, the few above have chosen 'flight' rather than 'fight' when faced with difficult situations, resorting to passive aggressive behaviors like silent treatments, blocking people, etc. It is extremely challenging to have any type of relationship when someone eliminates any form of contact, but it makes it exponentially challenging when someone has to chase the other to face their fears. It must be exhausting to constantly run away from oneself.

* * * * *

Since a child, I have always been that student who could not study in quiet libraries. My mind either wanders in vary disparate directions or it gets bored and I fall asleep. As I got older, I learned that I needed to distract my mind (e.g., music, television) in order for a part of my brain to focus on the activity at hand. Even when reading a book where I tend to escape with my fantasies and imagination, there is still that part of my mind that I distract with music or background noise.

Meditation helps to clear resistance, similar to sleep, yet since it is during a full-state of alertness, one can attempt to see one's natural state of consciousness. While face of the girl (part 3) helped me face the barriers erected from the inner child, I am hoping meditation will take me on the final phase of my journey to authenticity. 

Quieting the mind when I have always had to distract it has been an interesting project. With nature sounds in the background, focusing on my inhalation and exhalation and counting, I was able to find mental clarity for a few minutes. The South African, who ironically is also learning Law of Attraction and tantric methods, gave me additional pointers today on focusing on the energy in various parts of the body and imagining the energy flowing throughout.

* * * * *

Odd...now 6 with two more reaching out tonight after this post. Déja vu to when it rains, it pours.

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 5)

Someone with Saturn in Gemini supposedly has communication challenges as a child; however, this also is a person who works hard, and so can become successful in communication as an adult, especially if he/she chooses to face this challenge head on. Such communication challenges could be from speech impediments or feeling as if he/she is not listened to, especially in comparison to siblings. As one person described it, it could also be from an overbearing mother overshadowing and silencing the father, resulting in the person learning from that environment.

I did have a lisp that speech therapy helped address and given my situation with my mother (full circle (part 3)), I never felt that I was heard as a child, especially when my brother would bribe my sister to take his side in things. In a culture that is male dominated, my mother seemed to always blamed my father for her situation (e.g., married at an early age rather than focus on her career) although according to her, her parents had her marry so that they no longer had another mouth to feed. Because my dad was in the military and mechanical in nature while my mother was educated in university, she always made him feel less intelligent.

It was always sad and frustrating for me to see him not stand up for himself when she did that. It is also the reason why I stray away from relationships where either the man wants me to change him and/or someone I view as a doormat and who does not stand up for his own beliefs and decisions. Yet, my dad is the best MacGyver (third time's the charm). He could fix anything even with limited tools and/or parts. We used to have such an old washing machine because he could always fix it and at some point, my mother had to just tell him to stop fixing it so that we could get a more modern one with additional functionalities. 

He also used to buy scrap cars and fix them from scratch, only to then give it away to others, like the Mexicans who worked with him at the auto shop, who could not afford to buy new or even old cars. My mother recently told me how all the old folks at the temple rely on him to fix random things and would bring them in hoping he would be able to be their MacGyver as well. What I love about him is that even if someone did not compliment/appreciate him, he would compliment himself in a passive aggressive way with a twinkle in his eye that just makes one giggle, almost very childlike.

We always had a very unique banter and wit, teasing each other, complete with a dead pan delivery, that made strangers think we did not like each other. My cousin once told me that she thought for years that my dad and I did not like each other because we would almost try to outdo each other in insults of sorts. She clearly missed the gleam in our eyes and smile to each other when we did it. My mother almost always missed it when I was younger, and usually became an unwitting pawn in believing the things we said until I had to clue her in.

However, it took me many decades for me to realize that my father's interaction with my mother was not due to weakness. It was due to love and kindness. He picked his battles. She was usually the disciplinarian and out of my rebellion, I would push her buttons until she brought in my father to step in during my impetuousness (see an eye for an eye). I believe the last "spanking" I received was when as a teenager, I declared at dinner that I would never marry an Asian (I have many reasons for that view at the time), and wallop, I was flying over other chairs and almost hit my head on the fish tank. It wasn't until twenty years later that my mother disclosed to me that my parents had a long discussion after that and agreed that they will have to let go of their views on potential partners for their daughter, as my father's reaction really shook him (them). He has always known how unhappy she has been and his concessions for her views, discipline, etc. was his way of trying to minimize her unhappiness.

One of my biggest hopes is that one day he will get the chance to meet my dad, my first soulmate...the two men I admire and love the most. Both are MacGyvers in their own right.

Happy Father's Day, bô'! Thanks for teaching me the art of kindness.

taxing time

The causality dilemma of the chicken or the egg has me wondering whether awareness causes subconscious behavior and/or recognition of events that one would not have normally connected, similar to synchronicities as noted by Carl Jung (11:11 (part 5)). While Venus in retrograde has finally gone into its shadow period, Mercury started its retrograde on April 9. It would seem as though this should impact me more with the double whammy that Virgos are ruled by Mercury and that I was born when Mercury was in retrograde.

While it isn't entirely uncommon for me to leave my phone(s) in different rooms/offices, it was odd that not only did I lose both phones while transiting in Australia (full circle (part 2)) but also last week while heading to a client in Portland. Even after retracing my steps throughout the campus, it took many hours before my mental capacities reminded me that Apple has a "find my iPhone function". Of course, Mercury would not be in retrograde if my flight back did not get delayed multiple times, resulting in me missing my coding class altogether.

Mercury rules intelligence, memory, communication and transportation, including commerce/ agreements, mechanical equipment/phones/computers and travel. Those who were born with it in retrograde though would generally have challenges with these aspects (perhaps, as part of past karmic life) to overcome. Interestingly enough, I had a lisp as a child and had to go to speech therapy to work through it. In addition, I had taken journalism for a few years in high school to improve my writing skills. During much of my early years in my professional career, as well as in childhood, I was always misunderstood, whether in written or verbal form. When I learned about Myers-Briggs, it provided some rationalization to this since I was an INT(F)P in an ESTJ world. However, I was probably destined in some way to be in such an environment to work through this.

While it was an unpleasant situation, I was not surprised when I opened up my Turbotax last night and my 2016 tax file, which was mostly completed, disappeared yet was present enough to be a blank space, and say it could not be opened once clicked upon. My new coding sleuthing could not save me from the practically all nighter although it was quite fun to try to put my new learnings to use. Somehow, I feel though that in the rush attempt and with the retrograde in my natal charts, I paid more than POTUS. To rub salt in the wound, my hotel room tonight turns out to be 1040. 😟

* * * * *

As I waited for my order tonight at Mickey D's prior to class, a gentleman, who had ordered french fries and coffee was short, as either the voucher or gift card he had presented did not cover tax. He was probably homeless, and the escalating exchange between the cashier and him eventually drew my attention even with my headphones on. There was a whole line behind waiting. When I realized what was occurring, I paid the difference, yet somehow it did not end the hostile exchange, resulting in the man throwing the hot coffee at the cashier, who went around the counter, to engage in fisticuffs.

I am not sure what was more disturbing: a fight stemming from such a trivial matter or all the people who were too busy pulling out their phones to record the exchange inside and outside the store rather than stepping in to assist in diffusing the situation. I am hoping that when they replay their videos, they feel a bit slighted when hearing me stating "shouldn't you help rather than record?" I would like to think the miscommunication had to do with Mercury in retrograde; unfortunately, I think it has a lot to do with the signs of the times with the current POTUS who incites fear, hatred and ego, not to mention blasting on social media. The difference that everyone was standing in line waiting for was a whole 26 cents.

the chicken or the egg dilemma

The age old saying: If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck - can usually be tossed out the window here. Beef and chicken taste different yet they look the same. Seafood looks different yet it tastes the same (see farmer's tan). Sometimes water buffalo meat is passed off as beef. Asia is not really known for innovation as much as it's known for the ability to make a damn good copy of anything, including the iPhone. Yet, one would think there are limits to what can be imitated and copied.

During busy season (mid-December to end of March), our company orders in dinner for staff since they are working until midnight for many days. In many cases, staff are at client sites but they would come back to the office for the food before they head home to work or continue to work in the office. One would think that these are elaborate meals that people are returning for, but alas, no...they are usually the equivalent of small appetizers - most of the time, it is the banh bao, which is a form of dumpling containing a mixture of ground pork or chicken meat, onion, mushroom and egg that costs about 50 cents.

The first time I had one of these, I thought that the egg tasted different because it was perhaps quail egg or some other fowl. Subsequently, I started to just take out the egg, which I normally like in a banh bao, and toss it in the trash bin as I thought the egg actually tasted foul. We have now started up busy season again, which usually conjures up the image of the banh bao. Recently, I mentioned the egg and my lack of appreciation for the local egg. I soon got an education on the reality of the fake egg in Asia. While we may think that the cost of an egg is trivial compared to other food stuff, when your product is 50 cents, a 5-10 cents difference significantly influences the margin. Surprisingly the cost to make a fake egg with fake eggshell as well is cheaper than the real thing.

The video also shows how to make fake grapes. There have been suggestions that these products are cancerous. As if the debate of what came first - the chicken or the egg was confusing enough, my brain is now fried.

all-purpose tool

One day while in an elevator, I pointed out to an expat that Vietnamese will generally keep their hairy moles, especially on their face, and not trim the facial hair as it somehow represents luck. He then asked if that was why the men had long point fingernails, primarily the pinky. Yeah, ummmm....no. The man next to me on the ferry today happen to have all his fingers long and pointy. Some have argued that it is similar to Asian women's desire to be white - i.e., a sign of wealth as people with long nails are less likely to do a lot of manual labor (see quest for snow white). While that may have been the case many centuries ago or perhaps an urban legend to make it seem a status symbol of sorts, the reality is that it is for more practical reasons - picking noses and cleaning out ear wax.

That sure makes one think twice before shaking someone's hand when noticing the long pinky nail, or better yet, when that person is making the sandwich that was ordered at Subway.

third time's the charm

My dad is MacGyver. We would have appliances dating back to the 1970s because he kept fixing them until we would have enough of the 'old farts' that we would force him to stop. Naturally, I inherited some of his mechanical mind and usually am not gadget/electronics challenged, and can hook up any complicated entertainment system. However, I was at a loss this weekend when I couldn't figure out the rice cooker, microwave or oven in my apartment.

Given the diversity and mass production in the Asian markets, gadgets/appliances usually have symbols rather than words. The user manuals seem to cover a number of different models in one booklet, and it usually isn't clear what model I have in the apartment. There are a number of options on my washer and dryer but I've been happy to just figure out the basics to avoid shrinking or coloring my clothes. We had three people look at the manual for the oven just to turn it on. We ended up having my friend call her friend who coincidentally is my neighbor to walk her through it. It doesn't seem so self explanatory that one has to push the timer and heat buttons at the same time to turn it on.

After baking the chocolate cake twice, we could not figure out why it would only cook the top. Luckily my friend is married to a MacGyver also. While he couldn't explain to us what he did, he somehow managed to solve our dilemma. After scraping off the burnt top, the chocolate cake was well worth the wait.

elvis has left the building

It's been over two months since I have moved into my permanent place. Although I can be a homebody, especially in the winter months in New York, for some reason, I'm constantly out and about here. I haven't finished a book that I have started here yet. Although I don't cook much and insisted on having an oven, I have only used my kitchen to boil water once. Many of the weekends have been filled up with trips (e.g., Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Cambodia and other domestic locations). Regardless, I have not organized and put away the items that I had shipped. Someone speculated that it is because I don't want to put down roots here. 

Apartment View @ Night

Since I moved out of my Chelsea apartment in early December, which was before my transfer date was determined, I had to decide at that time what items get stored and what items get shipped to Vietnam. I had spent a bit of time researching what other expats recommended to pack or not pack, especially items that would get hung up at customs and/or that are not readily available in Vietnam. For example, media (e.g., books, DVDs) may get screened for content, which given translation issues, would take a long time to clear customs. Despite what was noted in that's a-mores!, pornography including toys would be confiscated. One blogger recommended condoms since the quality here is questionable, and supposedly, the size is not as diverse.

Quite frankly, I had forgotten what I had put into the air cargo category. Over the last few months, there were certain things that I was hoping I had heeded other bloggers' advice on, such as loading up with tampons since they are pretty scarce in this part of the world, but had faint recollections of such preparations to the point where I doubted myself. The housekeeper who comes three times a week started to put things in piles just to clear up areas for her to clean. So I decided that I was going to buckle down this week, and would force myself to put things away by hosting a pool/BBQ party at my place this weekend.

I am a bit baffled at some of the things I decided to bring and not bring in my infinite wisdom - common sense may have been on a vacation that day.

• Wig - a spontaneous purchase with a friend but since I've decided to grow out my hair, the long-hair wig makes less sense now. Hair extensions here cost less than the wig does.
• Toaster oven - made sense until I realized that the voltage here is significantly different. I have already fried my hair dryer, flat iron and rollers.
• Corset - while this came in handy for a theme charity event, I'm not sure why I didn't decide to also pack the garter attachments that goes with the corset as well as the stockings to go with it. Somehow I also managed to pack a garter belt but of course a bit useless without stockings, which are impossible to find here without it costing something like USD 40.
• Cowboy boots - I've lived in Texas for almost 20 years without owning cowboy boots, but for some reason, I had a hankering to purchase some boots before leaving for Vietnam and somehow thought that bringing two pairs made sense in this part of the world where flip flops are worn for a reason - who wants toe sweat?
• Freestanding burner - hasn't been used since college when I lived in a dorm. I can't think of an occasion where I would even need this, especially given the voltage issue.
• Computer locks - not just one but two. Neither personal nor work computers have slots where these would fit.
• Sewing kit/medical scissors - those scissors would cut through anything too but somehow it didn't make it into the cargo. =(
• Certain shoes, clothes, etc. - if I didn't wear them (even if they still had tags on them) for years in New York, I'm not sure why I thought that I would do so here.
• Jewelry - I've heard stories about necklaces, earrings, etc. getting yanked off of people so not sure why I thought it made sense to pack all of these. I've already lost portions of 3 pairs of earrings and 2 belly rings and I'm not entirely sure how.