Day 6. Broke my sidewalk stall streak and went upmarket. Had to try the coconut coffee, cà phê dừa. This one came in a cocktail glass topped with toasted coconut flakes, thick and cold, more dessert than caffeine. Coconut milk or coconut cream blended with strong Vietnamese coffee, sweet and rich, a different animal entirely from the straight black I’ve been drinking all week. Still drinking it on the street, not confined by walls.
A week in and I’m building a routine without meaning to. Morning coffee on a plastic stool. Photograph everything. Come home, collapse, do it again. Saigon doesn’t ask you to make a plan. It just gives you a chair and waits to see what happens.
A man on a motorbike passes by an old building screaming with graffiti. Mo Chit, Bangkok.
The myth of travel for me was that it would give me a new life. The truth is that it has given me a clearer view of the one I am already living.
I am writing this from Bangkok.
Twenty three years into a nomadic life that once felt like permanent ‘becoming.’
For a long time, I believed that if I moved far enough, something inside me would rearrange. That airports, bus terminals, and train stations were thresholds. That boarding passes carried permission. That somewhere else, I would feel more aligned with the person I was trying to become.
Chatuchak Market. Early morning. Before the consumers arrive.
Movement felt like possibility.
I keep thinking about how returning to Japan this time unsettled me. Not dramatically. Not catastrophically. Just enough.
I kept waiting for recognition. For the version of myself who once loved Japan with a kind of hunger to step forward again. She did not.
The trains still ran precisely. The light still fell cleanly across the streets. The aesthetic restraint that once steadied me was still intact.
But I was not the same woman who needed that steadiness.
When I first lived there, in 2003, I required structure. I needed disciplined beauty. Japan felt like instruction.
Now I am less in need of instruction.
Feeling disillusioned in Tokyo, Japan. Fall, 2025.
Travel did not fail me. It clarified me.
Mobility, after twenty three years, is not reinvention. It is confrontation.
Confrontation with nostalgia. With former selves. With the illusion that geography can absolve you of continuity.
We romanticize starting over because it sounds hopeful. Because it sells tickets. Because it suggests we can outpace our own history.
But no skyline erases you.
Now, back in Bangkok, considering Vietnam not as destiny but as movement, I see this more clearly.
I am not searching for a new life.
I am tracing the shape of the one I have built.
I can’t calculate how long I sometimes stand, waiting for a bird that is buzzing around, to enter my frame. Birds in flight. Something I can relate to.
There is gratitude in that.
Gratitude that disappointment can be information rather than loss. Gratitude that cities act as mirrors. Gratitude that movement sharpens perception rather than promises transformation.
The myth of travel for me was that it would give me a new life. The truth is that it has given me a clearer view of the one I am already living.
And clarity, at this stage, feels steadier than reinvention.
This mural is located at one end of the. Nemi Zam at Rinpung Dzong.This is Pema Lingpa (1450-1521), one of Bhutan’s most revered treasure revealers (tertons) and spiritual masters. He’s shown in the traditional style of a tertön with a beard, wearing lay clothing rather than monastic robes, and holding a treasure vessel. He is considered one of the five great treasure discoverers of Tibet and is especially important in Bhutanese Buddhism as their most significant native-born tertön. The painting shows him with two disciples and includes typical Bhutanese iconographic elements like the decorative clouds and UFO-like celestial palace (gau) above.18dec24
These two murals are painted on the walls at the entrance of the Bhutan Post Office.
The murals depict the Four Harmonious Friends—an elephant, monkey, rabbit, and bird—stacked together in a natural setting. This traditional Bhutanese symbol represents harmony, cooperation, and interdependence.
According to a Buddhist fable, these animals worked together to care for a fruit tree, demonstrating unity despite their differences.
The story emphasizes the importance of mutual respect, community living, and environmental stewardship, values deeply ingrained in Bhutanese culture.
This imagery is often seen in monasteries, schools, and public spaces, reinforcing moral teachings and social harmony.
Changlimithang Stadium, located in Thimphu, Bhutan, holds historical and cultural significance.
Originally the site of a major 1885 battle that helped consolidate power under the future king, Ugyen Wangchuck, it later transformed into a venue for national events.The stadium was officially constructed in 1974 for the coronation of King Jigme Singye Wangchuck.
Since then, it has become Bhutan’s primary sports and cultural hub, hosting football matches, archery competitions, and major national celebrations, including royal ceremonies and National Day festivities. Over the years, it has undergone several renovations, symbolizing Bhutan’s progress while honoring its historical roots.
Wilhelm Richard Wagner (22 May 1813 – 13 February 1883) was a German composer, theatre director, polemicist, and conductor who is chiefly known for his operas.
