Connections

This train of thought began after my friend Dasan died back in January. It’s changed a bit and been added onto since then….

I had a point, not long after arriving on the island, when I began to doubt the way of life I’ve fallen into and followed the past three years. I didn’t question so much my pattern of floating from place to place, or picking up jobs as needed, but rather the types of relationships I build through this way of life. I look home to friends who’ve lived primarily in one place for years at a time, and former classmates, married, having kids. I begin to wonder whether the path I’m on disallows those strong, steady long-term friendships and relationships– those given strength through time as we watch each other grow and lend each support through triumphs and challenges as years pass. I realize that– aside from family– I no longer really have those people in any one place, a circle of friends built into my life story, as it were, to step back into upon my return home. I question whether living without relationships of that strength, depth and duration is right for me.

The people I’m surrounded by on the island here come and go. Although I meet people constantly– the island is a well-known tourist and backpacker destination– I say goodbye just as frequently. Being in the tourism industry can feel like a viscous cycle of loneliness, at times: People pass through in a matter of days. I find myself engaged in the same conversation with each new person: Where are you from, How long have you been traveling, Where are you headed next? The vast majority of talks are absolutely mind-numbing.

A few months into my time here I understand why some coworkers pick and choose who they spend time with, often opting to keep their distance rather than getting to know backpackers on a more-than-superficial level. They’re simply proactively shielding themselves from the pang of saying goodbye and parting with pieces of themselves, over and over and over.

The Asia Outdoors staff fall into another category entirely. We are in essence an island, the only expats living on Cat Ba. We work together, we drink together and we climb together on our days off. We share our dreams with each other, teach each other, get frustrated with each other, cry on each others’ shoulders and tease each other about girls (and boys). Though our time with each other is shorter than it might be at home, our relationships gain intensity far more rapidly.

We have to accept that those relationships we build amongst ourselves are potentially short-lived. My life crosses paths with some coworkers for only a month or two, others for a year or more. The beginning of this month was hard– half of our staff reached the end of their contracts and left within a week of each other.

Thanh is very possibly one of the smartest (and most hyperactive) people I’ve ever met. In the past three years, courtesy of a lot of American TV coupled with a ridiculous outgoing and mischevious personality, the kid taught himself English and took point on managing the company’s ridiculously convoluted finances. He’s well-known for chucking harnesses across the room as he shouts, “No fighting in the office!” On a whim he flings snakes across courtyards, shoots crossbows across the bar and topples head-height cairns meticulously erected on beaches. His favorite phrases include “Don’t be sorry…. just don’t do again.” “Sorry….. Not sorry.” “We all gonna die!” And, "Let's go to the beach!" (With Thanh's Vietnamese accent, "beach" sounds like a very different word.) His high voice (the most common rumor has it he yelled and screamed so much as a kid he wrecked his vocal cords) just amplifies his impish personality. Thanh headed back to Hue, his home city, to go to school for business. He’s going to absolutely kill it.

Mervil is a soft- spoken Filipino with one of the strongest, gentlest spirits I’ve ever met. He has some of the prettiest footwork on the wall that I’ve ever seen and pursues projects with determination and passion. Honest and loyal to a fault, when that kid had something to say, you listened. Sometimes you gained serious insight into gear maintenance. Other times his quiet humor showed through, and you walked away with the valuable knowledge that Filipino slang for a But-Her-Face is "Shrimp–" because you eat the body and tail and chuck the head.

Ben is a happy-go-lucky climber from the UK, always glad to hand out a hug or a lopsided smile. We may or may not have bonded over Game of Thrones episodes leaked and pirated far in advance of official release dates.

I’m going to miss these guys like hell. There’s a good chance that I’ll never see some of them again. Seeing them leave hurts every time, but in the meantime I’ve found a surprisingly strong family in this tiny, constantly shifting community. No matter where we come from and what our experience is upon arrival, we have a common basis in that we’ve all consciously chosen this lifestyle. Despite how we arrived and whether or not we realized what it entailed, we’ve all postponed that security of long-term connections for the uncertainty of who we’ll meet and where we’ll go next; what we’ll learn and how we’ll grow through our time here. That commonality provides an incredibly strong mutual root for all of us.

And, for the time being, I’m ok with that.