Vietnam. A country with lush and verdant green hills in the central highlands, a bustling metropolis in the south, exquisite white sand beaches in the central part, and a great deal of history in the north. Hanoi can seem chaotic at first, but that’s part of it’s absolute charm. I dreamt of going to for about ten years before I actually was fortunate enough to finally go. This land hasI first arrived during the rainy season in October 2023. I remember my mother and I booked the flight in July, and I counted down the days like an excited child counts down until Christmas. There’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes, because they never truly live up to who you imagine them to be. My first days in VIetnam were absolutely pouring with rain; rain unlike anything I’ve experienced growing up in a place that is known as the rainiest location in North America, where people own more raincoats and umbrellas than sandals and sunglasses.
Despite the rain, I was besotted with this wonderful land. I felt a happiness that I truly had never felt before. I’m no stranger to Southeast Asia, as this old blog that has posts from 2013 shows. I deliberately chose to use this blog (one of many that I have) to write about my current adventure. I had high expectations of Vietnam, but it truly exceeded them. I fell hopelessly in love with the lush landscape of the north, the beaches and swimming in the South China Sea at midnight, and the most hospitable, lovely, kind, and beautiful people of Central Vietnam, and on my second trip, unimpressed with the people, sights, and gruffness of the South (Saigon).
After my first trip, I was determined to go back as soon as possible. So in February 2024, I went back. First I was in Saigon, which I did not like at all, so I quickly booked a flight to Da Nang. As soon as the plane landed, I felt so at ease, a feeling which betrayed me so profoundly in Saigon due to being kidnapped by a taxi driver who held me captive for hours demanding money whilst brandishing a screwdriver to threaten me. I ended up being dumped in the red light district, when a large man who spoke English with an American accent taunted me and told me that he was going to “turn me out.” I truly thought I was going to die. I stood there shaking like a leaf, and if it wasn’t for a very brave bellboy who came and grabbed me and took me upstairs to a rather seedy per hour hotel, who knows what would have happened. He even went back to retrieve my backpack and other bags from the gutter of the red light district. I will always be immensely grateful for that young man’s bravery. He was truly my hero, and I told him so. He was rather shy and brushed off my praise and gratitude as though it was nothing, when in fact it was everything.
This incident left me profoundly traumatized. I livestreamed the kidnapping on Facebook just so people would be able to alert my family as to what was happening and to show the area of where I was just in case I was murdered. I had dreams about the incident and I’d wake up screaming. My mother said that in the phone calls in the proceeding days, my voice sounded almost so petrified and resigned that she immediately booked a flight to be there for me. The night before she arrived, I happened to meet someone who would become one of the greatest loves of my life, as well as one of the hardest lessons that I never wanted to learn.
That trip, which was supposed to be three months (February until May) turned into an 8 month long odyssey filled with love, adventure, and living in many different places! I fell in love with an American man and we lived together within two weeks of meeting. It was whirlwind romance filled with midnight swimming in the South China Sea, going to amusement parks and laughing like children, going to different places to explore, and sharing secrets and opening up and seeing the light and the darkness in one another. One night, on a whim, we got engaged. Those were some of the happiest days of my life.
My love came to Canada and the wedding was planned for late October. My wedding dress was ethereal, my mother was in full planning mode and so proud to be the mother of the bride, as I think she never thought that her rather unbothered about getting married daughter would finally tie the knot. Two weeks before the wedding when my love and I were ring shopping at the mall, he took me outside for air, and he told me something that was such a profound betrayal that simply could not marry him. So the wedding was off. I mortifyingly had to notify everyone about the wedding being called off so shortly before the wedding. I was a total wreck, absolutely heartbroken, and totally blindsided by what he told me. It was something that completely changed my view of him and I felt like he was a total stranger to me. It was the greatest pain I’ve ever known. To mourn a future that will never be is a level of grief that I simply cannot describe. We had called each other husband and wife the entire time we were in Vietnam (because people assumed that’s what we were) and it just felt so right. Unfortunately, I would never actually get to be his wife and he would never be my husband. The sadness was like being buried alive and there was no one with a shovel to help me. No one could rectify the pain. The betrayal was so profound that it’s left me unable to fully trust people all of these months later.
In my grief, I booked a trip to Hanoi. A week to the day of what would have been my wedding date, I had a seizure, which I’d never had before. I fell down my stairs and was uncurious for twelve to 14 hours. I was completely for anywhere between 12 – 16 hours. I was in hospital for just over a week, and because of this, I had to cancel my trip to Hanoi. I texted my ex-fiance pictures of my injuries, and he didn’t seem that bothered. In fact, he was very proud of the fact that he was now doing gay porn, something he told me in the ICU. I woke up one morning from a nap and saw a bouquet of flowers and I knew that they weren’t from him, but I had hoped. Sure enough, they were from a friend and they were absolutely beautiful! I still cannot fathom the level of cruelty to text your very recent ex-fiance that you were doing gay porn whilst she was in the ICU bruised all over my body. But that’s just him, I suppose. He said it was to “push me away” – but you don’t behave in malicious ways when someone is very injured and ill. This is just one of the million reasons why I did not marry him. I have never seen anyone unravel as quickly and as fully as he did, and so masterfully self-sabotage. But it’s not my problem any longer, and I thank the universe for showing me who he truly was. I’d been complete hoodwinked. Now he is back in California not doing very well.
The months passed by and I was languishing. I tried everything to get over the grief, but it just didn’t work. I need to travel or else I feel claustrophobic. I booked a trip to Cambodia in January and left for three months in February, It was a complete disaster. I was groped, sexually assaulted (the owner of the hotel/homestay that I stayed at put his fingers in my genital area as he showed me the balcony — I was wearing a very modest skirt, as I believe in modesty in Southeast Asia. I wanted to knock him into next week, but I knew that as a property owner, he was pretty far up in the hierarchy in society and knocking him out would have land ME in jail, and not him, as he was definitely buddies with the Cambodian Peoples’ Party and the cops). There was this odd sense of heaviness in Phnom Penh, as though the souls of those killed in the genocide lingered everywhere. The streets were not bustling with happiness and excitement like Vietnam or my brief trip to Manila. People did not smile, and in fact glared at me when I smiled. The complete opposite of Vietnam. Even at my age, I phoned my parents semi-embarrassed and said that I’d like to come home. I felt this complete urgency to leave, or else I may never leave at all. I am no stranger to solo backpacking, but this was something else entirely. With very pale skin, I am a spectacle in Southeast Asia where it is very coveted. Even people who were Cambodian were warning me and telling me to leave. So I took that as my sign and headed home. Do I feel like a failure? Absolutely not. I tried, and if I’d had a man with me, or if I was in a group, or if my skin was darker, perhaps things would have been different.
This trip to Vietnam is to retrace the steps and let go of what was. And it’s been working so well. I’ve been to our old apartment, I’ve been to the beach that the apartment overlooked, I’ve been to areas of town we’d walked around, at food from places that we both loved.
I’m having difficulty uploading videos and pictures from things that I’ve done, which is such a shame. But here’s my on the beach near our old apartment. And here’s me seeing the Dragon Bridge fire show for the first time in my life, despite living here almost a year in total!
It’s opened my eyes so much. He wasn’t right for me; I’m right for myself. I bristled a bit with being so open and vulnerable, but why not? People struggle and nothing is perfect — except my love for Vietnam.
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