Tạm biệt Việt Nam!

This is my official goodbye. By no means, is it my FINAL goodbye. We all know that most expats who leave Vietnam, seemingly always come back. Sucked to edge of insanity, of absolute frustration, screaming good riddance all the way to the border. Yet we return. I think that's what the hidden charm really is. Nobody can say exactly what it is, they just know there's something. And maybe that explains why we keep coming back for more punishment. We are trying to find where the charm is hiding.

I am a little sad to be honest. It's hard to think that I might not return. However, I think it's probably safe to say I should find another place to live, at least for a while. Find what makes me tick, if that's possible. Find my soul that I lost in a hẻm somewhere in Saigon. I think it fell out of my pocket. Find a language that doesn't annoy me. It's actually not the language, it's the person speaking it. It can sound nice, it really can. Less squawk and more talk, pleeeeease!

I have a love/hate relationship with Vietnam. Seems like it's been that way from the beginning. It's a very difficult relationship to end. There are a lot of perks to living here and a lot of annoyances. And as any local would say, if you don't like it, go back to where you came from! Very true. When you gripe more than you grin, you have to question whether it's time to move on. The love hate scale might be out of balance.

Let me begin with the food. I love it. At least the abundance of vegetarian options. Seems like there's a cơm chay restaurant around every corner. I love the lifestyle. I love the women. I love riding a motorbike. I love cheap beer. I love the fact that I can run nearly all of my errands within walking distance of my house. Yet, I still go by motorbike. Forgot to buy water? Neighbors sells it. Shampoo? Yep. Phone card? Got that too. Dinner? Just around the corner, if you want. Need a little air in your tire? Ten meters in that direction. Ran out of gas? There's a woman with some across the street. Massage? Parlor over there or if you don't want a happy ending, on the ground, right here.

I hate the noise, the pollution, the traffic, the constant staring and the constant you're-a-foreigner-so-I'm-going-to-try-to-rip-you-off. Yes, sometimes it's just peanuts, but it's still principle. And if I call you on it, you just get angry and ugly. And I just don't understand the culture. Or the women. Or about losing face. I mean, come on, if you don't know where a place is, just admit it! Don't give me wrong directions. I also hate the general lack of common sense. Oh, and loud voices. There are a lot of them here.

I could say I hate the way people drive, but I don't. Yes, it's terrible, but when you start expecting the unexpected it becomes humorous when it actually happens. Which is nearly all the time. Wait, I think I should be laughing more. I could go on and on about nosiness, about people always wanting to know my business. About nose-picking, people always digging for gold in public. About hygiene, what's that? About restaurant service, nearly non-existent. Em oiiii! About the general harassment every foreigner receives from people trying to sell anything. But I don't hate any of that. I've come to accept most of it and understand it's part of life. Here, anyway.

For me, the number one irritation is the overall level of consideration. There just isn't any. When I think Vietnam, I think INCONSIDERATION. I don't think the word exists in Vietnamese. Talking too loud, cutting in line, not waiting for people to get off the elevator before you get on, not looking when you pull out into traffic, in general not giving a fuck about anyone other than yourself - that gets to me. I feel like I'm a fairly considerate person and when I don't get any in return, it bothers me.

It's hard to completely digest. It still angers me sometimes when it happens, but I think I get it. I think it pisses off some Vietnamese people as well, but they're better at hiding their emotions. They can just let (sh)it go. I need to work on that. If every time I waited for an elevator people barged in front of me to get on, I think I'd eventually stop waiting myself and calmly assume position near the elevator doors, not look anybody in the eye and inconsiderately maneuver my way forward without looking or feeling guilty about it. Actually I know myself better, I'd probably take the stairs. I hate being an intentional asshole unless I feel like someone is deserving. Then, it comes with ease.

I know I didn't touch on so many things. I never really slept well in Vietnam. I hated that. I think my best nights of sleep in last four years were in other countries. I will miss the energy in Vietnam. A raw energy, enlivening or insanity driving depending on my mood. So many people making ends meet through whatever means necessary. If that means asking you if you want a shoe shine over and over again so be it. Not a dull day unless you didn't venture outside. Sometimes it was nice to stay in.

Anyway, I can go on and on and on. But I won't. I need to step off the motorbike for a minute, slow down, try to speak another language and stop grimacing. My eye wrinkles are getting out of hand. Maybe from too much sun exposure or too much dust in the air. And from constantly being on edge. Wary of everybody around me and what they're saying, never believing someone's first word. After a while, it gets exhausting. And I need a break, so I'm taking it. For my health, it's all I've got!