My eyes widen as I sit in the back of a cab on my way to the hotel from the airport, in Vietnam. I see more motorbikes than cars as the smell of exhaust makes my nose tickle. My mom and I chuckle as our vision focuses on a bike with a crate squashed full of live chickens and the sound of their squawks fills our taxi. I am eleven and I am overwhelmed with new sights, yet something about the experience feels familiar in a way.

When we had first gotten on the plane two days before, I was hesitant to leave my family for three long months but I knew I would have an amazing time. Our first stop was in Tokyo, Japan, where the airport was nothing like the chaos back in New York City. The airport even had nice, clean shower rooms, which was desperately needed after such a long trip. But when the person working the front desk told us the cost was 1,500 yen my naive eyes widened. “We don’t need a shower that bad, Mom!” I blurted. My mom laughed and told me that it was only about 11 US dollars. I sighed with relief and enjoyed the hot, floral-scented shower.

When we got to Vietnam, locals stared at us a lot, probably because we were the only Black people in the airport. Even though we stood out, I never felt judged. People were simply intrigued by us. Locals came up to us and asked for pictures, or they would ask to touch our hair. Whereas in a country as diverse as the States, if someone asked that I would not appreciate it, in Vietnam it was still weird but I understood it. It was a very new and interesting experience for me. While I was cherishing so much of this trip, I would FaceTime my family and miss being with them.

Our trips always had an element of engaging with the community we were in. In Vietnam, we visited an orphanage. We brought ice cream for them and played foosball. I loved it. My younger self just thought that we were doing something nice, but over time I have noticed the lesson of exposure like this. I think my mom wanted me to know that even though we stayed in nice places and experienced cool things, we always must stay respectful, empathetic, gracious, and appreciative.

In the past three years, my memory of this trip has faded, yet it is still one of my favorites. I do wonder, however, how can something be so lost and patchy, but still have an impact on your view of the world? Vietnam is not the only trip that I love to look back on. In the past three years I have visited many other places. They all were very different culturally but had similarities like kind people, good food, beautiful scenery, and amazing environments. I have come to associate different smells with different places. Vietnam had the scent of fresh cucumbers and pineapples; Mexico was cinnamon; and Morocco smelled of orange juice. Once in a while, I will smell something and think “it smells like Vietnam in here” and get instant nostalgia.

Traveling is one of my favorite things to do. I believe everyone should experience it at least once in their lives. It’s like you are in a completely different universe. Traveling gives people a better understanding of the world and people. It is an amazing feeling that I get to live with every day.

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