The Really Dramatic Saga Known As Vietnam: Part 7

By the time my decon process was over, it was time for my next Vietnam stop: Phu Quoc island. I heard it was this beautiful, gorgeous oasis where I could wile away my days in sunshine and beaches, and I was determined to try to start over. I tried so hard to start the day off in a good mindset, I really did, but I was also just so exhausted.

The Danang airport was jam-packed full of screaming children, and then my flight got delayed, because of course it would. I sent the following string of messages to one poor soul who was silly enough to respond to me:

”My flight is delayed 1.5 hours.
Vietnam is trying to break me.
I’m sitting here with a shoe that STILL smells like cat pee, worried that bed bugs lurk in my bag, already sleepy and I just had to eat Burger King because it was the only option in the airport.
Burger King makes the dumbest burgers by the way.
Who the crap wants pickles and mustard, the bastard children of the condiment world, as not just the default ingredients but the only ones?
I got a double cheeseburger minus those two things and it literally just had cheese left on it.
Also there’s a lady here wearing a skin tight evening dress and high heels.
Who does she think she’s going to see here?
It’s almost midnight.
I just found a sticker in my hair.
Wtf is happening in my life”

Minus two resilience points

When I finally did land in Phu Quoc, I was stopped at the exit so they could confirm my bag tag matched my boarding pass. They were conveniently only stopping the non-asian people, so that was an interesting experience that in a different context would have been very educational to me...but in this context, it was just another blow.

My taxi driver claimed there were no ATMs at the airport, and that she could take me to one, but the process of turning in a circle suggested otherwise, much to her chagrin. The taxi ride itself was just her on her cell phone shrieking about something, and then at the end it was about 50% more expensive than the hostel had estimated for me. I checked into the (best in town) hostel, and immediately found indications of bed bugs. And then I found an actual bed bug. And then asked for a refund because COME ON GIVE ME A BREAK.

Minus another freaking resilience point. Am I having fun yet? Remind me again what an AMAZING opportunity this is, and how LUCKY I am?

They tried to tell me that they get the bugs because of the humidity. That's not how that works, honey. They refunded me all but one night of my stay, and helped me arrange a taxi to a different (more expensive) place down the road. I thought the only silver lining at the time was that I met the only other guest at the hostel, a nice guy from Brazil. We exchanged info before I left (I warned him about the bugs...he didn’t seem to care...ew).

The place I moved to was pretty cute and I had my own room (yay!), but it had an outdoor bathroom. “Oh how cute and rustic!” you might be thinking. NO, you are WRONG. Mosquitos find your exposed skin in an outdoor island bathroom in like 2 seconds flat. Pee at your own risk, and GOOD LUCK taking a [cold water only, by the way] shower. Soooo charming. Those mosquitos also found their way into the room through the rather large gap under the doors, so I got eaten alive while I slept.

Minus one.

Exhausted and hoping for some island happiness, I walked around for a bit, checking things out. There were some beautiful things here -- some random flowers, some graffiti -- but on the whole the island was covered in trash and felt like a ghost town. I was so disappointed. Where’s my island oasis??

I made a long trek to a special burger place in town that is owned by two American guys. I had the most wonderful, ridiculous burger here, and a drink. And then one of the owners sat down to chat with me, identifying right away that I was from the states. We chatted about books and reading and safety traveling and all sorts of things, and it was wonderful! He even sent me an ebook series that he thought I would like.

Plus one! Finally!

I was trying to ride this high out the next day, and planned to meet up with my new Brazilian friend. He was out exploring the island all day, so we met at a fun beachside bar place for a drink and some dinner. Things were all well and good and I was feeling happy that I had a new friend and I finally got the see the beach. And then he ruined it all. Apparently mentioning your boyfriend 47 times isn’t a sufficient indication that you aren’t interested in someone. So we had to have a blunt conversation...again and again because his Brazilian-ness meant that he kept thinking I was just playing hard to get. It was a really strange but interesting experience. We talked about our cultural norms on the topic, and he was really honest about how, where he’s from, a girl telling you no means you need to just try harder, be a man, and take the initiative (I guess being in a relationship is a minor point). And you know what? I had to have a moment of honesty about my own culture. Where I come from, “no” isn’t a complete sentence, which is super frustrating. You can’t turn a guy down and leave it at that. There has to be a reason, and it has to be good enough that someone will accept it. I had flashbacks to an unpleasant night where an older man kept f*&(ing insisting that I dance with him at an engagement party, and the end result was him saying I “had a problem with strong men”, because I said no. This can turn into a rant so I’m going to stop here, but it’s an interesting realization, and a really irritating fact of life.

Minus one again…

Finally the night was over and I crawled into bed, mosquitos dive-bombing my face, deciding that maybe I just needed some pampering, and booked a couple nights in a fancy resort place right on the beach. That should do it, right?

Turns out the nicest resort in town was more of a….ghetto castle. But my bed was comfy! The beach was close by and I saw some beautiful sunsets! I got to skype with some of my beautiful friends! Drain flies hatched in a sudden explosion in my room! Wait…

One night I decided to try and order a fancy meal to make myself feel better, so I ordered a baked salmon dish with veggies. The half of the salmon that was actually cooked was pretty good….

Minus one, or whatever, I don’t even know what anything is worth anymore

Total resilience point count: -19