what happens at the resort stays at the resort

“They scream, they sing, they fall down, they take their clothes off, they cross-dress, they vomit,” Malia’s mayor, Konstantinos Lagoudakis, said in an interview. “It is only the British people — not the Germans or the French.”

- "Some Britons Too Unruly for Resorts in Europe" (NYTimes)

I wonder what do they think about American college students.

i hate feeling like all i'm doing is waiting

It's so strange being home right now, during the down time between Vietnam and Prague. I feel like all I'm doing is watching the clock tick until I'm on that plane Bohemia-bound and my life can start again. Granted, I should be packing, but that's a whole other issue to talk about (though really, all I have to say is a big fuck you to check-in luggage weight limits).

In the meantime, it makes me sad getting all the welcome-back emails from Duke administrators (...and sorority exec board members), having to RSVP "Not Attending" to all the random Facebook invites to welcome-back parties at all-too-familiar venues (venues whose names I can actually pronounce!), having to hear about Shooters stories over the phone instead of during the obligatory 3 am McDonald's run or the standard Sunday morning froyo binge, and knowing that everyone starts school again tomorrow. The Sanford Institute seems like a world away, and I can't believe that it'll be January before I return to that maze of a building. I can only hope Roger, the guy who works at the Sanford Deli, will still remember my name and the way I like my French Connection wrap.

In a weird way it's like I'm regressing back to the summer before freshman year, with all the same anxieties over how I'm going to do laundry, or try to cook (let's face it, knowing me, I'll probably just end up eating out every night and/or living off of cereal and granola bars), or who my roommate is going to be (though to some extent, I'm kind of glad we don't find out who our roommates are before we land in Prague because that saves me from awkward introductions over Facebook and phone calls spent trying to talk about sleeping/eating/studying/partying habits -- first impressions just really need to be made in person). At least this time I'll be in one of the greatest cities in the world instead of Durham, North Carolina (which, granted, definitely has its own unique charm, but it still just doesn't even come close).

a turning point

My iPod is officially too small for my iTunes.

my body astounds me

OH MY GOD.

I JUST WOKE UP.

And it's like 6:30 in the evening. I went to sleep at around 1 am, totally exhausted but thinking that, hey, that's a time I'd normally go to sleep and I have to beat jet lag! Actually, that's a lie, I totally fell asleep at around midnight, but we were watching a movie and so 1 am is when Carrie woke me up to drive me home.

That means I just slept for... over 18 hours.

HOLY SHIT.

THIS MADNESS HAS GOT TO STOP.

i can feel my tan fading away

I'M BACK IN THE STATES.

Times I've had to catch myself from saying "oh my god" or "thank you" or "excuse me, miss" in Vietnamese: 4.

First words uttered upon landing in LAX: "I'm cold."

Earlier today, I was also craving a sua chua (translation: yogurt drink) while at Target and had to settle for a Yoplait Light yogurt drink instead. I think it was strawberry flavored or something. It was not the same.

Speaking of food, here's a list of the insane amount of food I ate on my last day in Hanoi: Hello Panda, European chocolates, a baguette with jam for breakfast, a yogurt drink with shot of expresso, bun cha for lunch (translation: pork meat in a bowl of nuc mam sauce served with cold rice noodles and vegetables), hua gua dam (translation: mixed fruits -- lychee, avocado, watermelon, jack fruit, dragon fruit, etc. -- with condensed milk in a cup that you add ice to), a baguette with pate for dinner, and bubble tea.

The Vietnamese roommates surprised me with how sentimental they all were, but I've since decided that the world needs more sappiness. Everyone had little bookies that they had people sign (like yearbooks!), so I quickly grabbed a notebook I used to use for Vietnamese class back in June and had people sign that. Iris, Trung, and Sam all gave me cards; VT told me to never feel alone, gave me a little fat cat for good luck, and came to the airport with us to say good-bye; Hoang held my hand as we walked back from bubble tea, sang "She Will Be Loved" with me around the lake -- changing the lyrics every now and then to, "And you will be loved" -- and blew kisses at me through the bus window as we were heading to the airport; Thu, my roommate, cried when I said good-bye; and so did Ha, Johnny's roommate, who came with us to the airport too and chased after Johnny for one last hug as we headed towards customs. The roommates all talked about working hard to be successful so that they can come to America and reunite with us one day, but it's sad to think about how long that might take in reality. (It's also weird to think that if/when they do come to the States, their children will be... me, the first generation Asian-American. And in many ways, I do feel like spending this past summer in Asia has helped me understand my parents a lots more and how they grew up.)

The flight back home was quite an ordeal. I was majorly confused by the service from Hanoi to Incheon, which was both lax and annoyingly persistant. My check-in bags were 22.5 and 26 kg, but the lady didn't say anything to me, despite the 23 kg weight limit. Asiana air service is cool, right? Wrong. The flight attendants during the actual flight kept waking me up for food (at midnight?!? I don't even remember what I ate; I think it was beef and rice or something like that), wine (both white and red, the lady made sure I knew), coffee, and to tell me to put my seat up (or rather, I got woken up by her putting my seat up suddenly). Basically that mean that by the time we got to Incheon airport in Korea, we were all deliriously, hilariously exhausted. I passed out for about 2 minutes of bliss on the padded seats in a waiting area (seats without arm rests are a traveler's best friend), but then got hustled along by the others in search of an information desk. We had a 13-hour layover in Korea, so we were determined to go into the city, even though Alex pointed out that we'd probably either get raped or robbed in our state of exhaustion/sleepiness/incoherence. We ended up getting tickets for a 5-hour long city tour of Seoul (it's an hour bus ride from the airport to the city) that included seeing the palace, a museum (that even had a section on food in our exhibit on Korean life -- that's Asia for you; we take our food seriously), a tourist shopping street (I got a handmade necklace there for 6000 wong), and lunch (bibimbap for me, which came in a clay pot).

Honestly, I have no clear recollection of the flight from Seoul to LA. I slept for about 10 of the 11 hours, waking up only for food (I had some beef and rice dish again that you wrapped in lettuce and then kim chi with rice) and then for about 30 minutes of "What Happened in Vegas" right before we landed. Overall, I was pretty impressed by the Korean facilities. The Incheon airport is really nice -- incredibly clean and orderly with lots of things to do in the airport -- and the plane itself was pretty comfortable, with little side thingies on your headrest (that let you rest your head on the side so that you wouldn't get those awful neck cramps), good food, and individual TV screens that let you select which movies you wanted to play when.

American airlines seriously need to take some tips from Asian ones because flying domestic on Northwest after flying international on Asiana was 1) a total, unorganized mess (I didn't even get to say good-bye in person to Johnny, Rosie, and Caroline because the whole, confusing ordeal at baggage claim got me separated from them all!) and 2) not at all as comfortable. I was stuck sitting bitchseat in the middle of a 3-person row and I'm pretty sure I tried to put my head on the shoulder of the girl sitting next to me, thinking in my dreamy, sleepy state that she was Yushen. Awkward.

Things I've had to readjust to upon returning to America:
- how wonderfully clean and modern the bathrooms are
- how intense the water pressure in my bathroom is
- how large and thick toilet paper, kleenex, towels, etc. are
- how heavy metal utensils are
- how quiet the traffic is
- how inefficient NOT jaywalking is
- how large supermarkets are
- how refreshingly not invasive salespeople are
- how clean everything everywhere is
- how conversational strangers are
- how quickly everyone speaks English
- how many chocolate products there are
- how many cars there are
- how orderly traffic is
- how large personal space bubbles are
- how big and tall everyone is
- how few Asians there are in my town
- no longer having wet towelettes at every meal
- dry heat
- my cell phone's ring tone

You'll probably notice that the first few things on the above list were all bathroom-related. Let's just say I'm probably still psychologically recovering from our trip into the Central Region. (There were toilets in pure darkness, toilets that were just holes, toilets that were just holes and needed to be manually flush, toilets that were just holes on moving trains, toilets that weren't even holes in the ground but were actually changing rooms, meaning that you'd have to pee on the floor [...I didn't actually use those...], you get the idea.)

In other news, jet lag is a bitch. I woke up at around 6:45 am today, saw the school bus go by my window, wondered why summer school was going so late, and then realized first that it was still only Tuesday in this time zone and second that schools here have already started. Insanity. I spent my first day back home running errands and also picked up both a new, unlined, 240-page Moleskin journal (to replace my old journal that's now completely filled, thanks to this summer) and the Quick & Easy Vietnamese Home Cooking for Everyone cookbook, which -- after flipping through the pictures and the index -- I've decided has all my favorite dishes, except for hua gua dam.

My goal for this summer is officially to successfully make nem (translation: spring rolls). Asia Mart, here I come.