old yellow bricks

Somebody told me that she went to Vietnam and hated it. And it seemed like she nearly passed out when I said I love Vietnam.

Days and hours before finally heading to the airport, it was like a washing machine in my stomach. Nervous and excited, and probably every other emotion there is to feel. My mum wasn't going with me, neither was anyone in my family. And I've never left home without anyone of them before.

The moment we touched Vietnam ground, I vowed to myself to just enjoy the trip instead of hanging about thinking about home.

So as we headed home from the airport, I scanned the lives of the people in Vietnam. Some walking by the streets, others squatting by a little table set up as a stall and the majority of the citizens, on motorcycles speeding past the car about two inches away.

My first impression? It's going to be some holiday, with all these people looking as if they would beg the life out of you to get just a little bit of money. I was wrong. Heck, these people would rather commit suicide than look at you. What more to give you a smile.

But after really walking the streets, discovering what the people were like and just taking in everything around - the environment and lifestyle, it actually was an awesome place.

And I wished I could stay longer. And I plan on going back.
With my mum, obviously.