I woke up at 8:45 in the morning. I actually had a meeting at 9, but I rescheduled it because I still wanted to sleep. Still, I told myself it was okay. "Your health comes first. Don't push yourself if you're feeling bad."
Because I'm the only one who will defend me, and I'm the only one on my side. If I don't do that, who will take care of me, I wondered.
After that I joined another meeting and did a little work. Before I knew it, it was 11:30.
I needed food because I had to take medicine. I ordered a banh mi for delivery. It arrived around 11:40, and I hurriedly ate it while working. Honestly, the filling wasn't very substantial and I wasn't satisfied.
Check-out time was approaching, so I hurriedly packed. I finished just in the nick of time at 12:03.
I'm really grateful that check-out is at 12 in Vietnam and the Philippines. In Japan it's often at 10, so I wish they'd extend it a bit.
I checked out at the front desk. The front desk girl and someone who seemed to be her mother were looking at a phone on a nearby sofa, so I said "Excuse me." They seemed a little surprised but processed the checkout.
I paid locally and used a 500-dong note. I think it was around 700–800 dong. Really cheap.
At that moment it didn't feel like the right time to ask them to write in my notebook. My face felt frozen and I couldn't say anything.
After paying, I sat on a nearby bench and checked my next accommodation on Grab while fiddling with my iPhone. Check-out 12:00, check-in 14:00. That two-hour gap is really helpful.
I decided to stay a bit longer and moved to a nearby sofa.
The moment I stood up, the front desk girl said "Have a nice day!" But when I told her I was going to rest a little longer, she turned on a nearby fan for me.
I thought she was really kind.
My hands were shaking and I felt feverish.
It was the effect of the anti-inflammatory drug called Medrol. I spent about an hour working and doing the meeting I had missed in the morning.
I kept thinking about when to approach her. Should I pretend to be surprised with an "Oh!" and pull out my notebook? But every time I tried, my feet wouldn't move.
So I stopped overthinking it.
I closed my laptop and took out my notebook and pen.
I made myself a three-second period of not thinking about anything.
"Okay."
That was enough to make me stand up.
I thought it took way too long, but I didn't betray myself. I had made a promise to myself yesterday. That made me really happy.
"If I do this, I'm amazing. It doesn't matter what the other person thinks. Keeping my promise to myself is everything."
The moment I thought that, I did an inner fist pump.
I went to the front desk and,
Hey, could you write life advice in my notebook?
Those were my first words.
They looked puzzled, so I used a translation app to explain that I was traveling solo and collecting life's words from people I met.
When I showed them a page they had written on before, they nervously agreed.
Her handwriting in cursive was really beautiful.
She carefully wrote in Vietnamese, even adding the time. Just watching her do that calmed me down.
I realized I'm really someone who is drawn to beautiful things.
After she returned the notebook, I wanted to give her something in return.
I took out a card and wrote: 'Come to Japan,' that her handwriting is truly beautiful, her smile is lovely, and 'Be yourself, follow your heart.'
She was very happy, and we took a photo together.
After that, I went to the pharmacy.
The woman at the shop was sleeping with her daughter. The child was about four years old.
Even though it's a pharmacy, them sleeping was just the best. Maybe she had just woken up, so she was without makeup (lol).
I told the woman via a translation app that "thanks to you I'm feeling better." She replied, "I was going to ask how your condition was."
So I decided to buy saline solution and Pocari Sweat. The total was a mere 25 dong (125 yen). I was like, 'What?' It was so cheap. It was so cheap I wondered if it was even profitable.
I thought they were truly kind. Using the translation app, I asked similarly if she could write in my notebook. She said yes, so I put down my backpack, took out my notebook and pen, and had her write a message. Meanwhile I was filming again. Eventually I hope to stitch all these videos together into one video.
She also wrote very beautiful Vietnamese. After that I took out my own card and wrote a message. I asked her name and had her write it, then I copied that name onto my message card and gave it to her.
She asked me to leave a review on Google too, so of course I said yes. In the end we took a photo together and said bye! I thought she was really a wonderful pharmacy person. I couldn't stop sweating while writing the card.
Maybe it was because I was carrying my backpack and walking in 30°C heat. She was very surprised. I told her I'm Japanese and not used to this heat. But I think it's probably a side effect of the medicine.
Bought saline solution and Pocari, total 125 yen. Shockingly cheap.
Here too, she wrote a message in my notebook.
I also wrote a card and handed it over. I asked her name and copied it. She was very happy.
Then, I suddenly remembered.
I had forgotten to write the front desk girl's name on her card...!
I couldn't let it go, so I went back to the hotel.
It might have been pushy, but I liked that I didn't compromise.
We exchanged Facebooks, and she had already posted it to her story.
I used the translation app to explain, borrowed the card once, and added the name.
I felt a little embarrassed and said 'Bye' before continuing the conversation, but that's fine. It doesn't have to be perfect.
I'd had similar experiences in the Philippines, so I felt really lucky with my choice of accommodations. I'm glad I chose this hotel.
After that, I took a motorbike taxi to the next place to stay. 28 km, 30 minutes. Much farther than I expected.
It was so rural that there were hardly any buildings. I felt a bit anxious.
After that, since I had to take antibiotics, I decided to look for dinner for now.
Even on Google Maps there were only seafood places. No pho. And they were all the kind of Vietnamese restaurants families go to. So I was feeling a bit down.
But I thought I had no choice but to make do with what was available. So I started walking outside. It really felt like a village with nothing, and I felt even more alone. I walked toward the restaurant the hotel guy had recommended.
Along the way, there was a dog in the back that barked at me a lot and I was really startled. It had been a while since I felt that adrenaline.
It had a design like Greece's Santorini, three stories high, and was really authentic. The staff had earphones on to facilitate quick communication. It was truly a proper place.
While waiting for my order I spaced out. The fried rice was enormous. Maybe because it's a place families come, it was served in a pot. The shrimp one had about twenty shrimp—it was really a lot.
I ate just a little and was full right away. At the same time my arms and legs went numb, and my heart was pounding. It was a bit bad. I felt like I might have a panic attack. My autonomic nervous system was off balance and my sympathetic nervous system was dominant.
I went outside and walked by the sea, and strangely I calmed down.
Nature is amazing.
I called my grandma and talked for 45 minutes.
"Life will turn out as it should."
Those words eased me a bit.
Probably the combination of being barked at by a dog + the place being completely different from what I expected + there being no ATM so I'd have to go back to town to withdraw money + not even knowing if I could get to town because it was so rural and taxis might not be nearby + looming work deadlines—this flood of anxieties hit me at once and led my mental state toward collapse.
At the seaside there was some kind of Chinese-style show going on, so I blended in with the locals. They were shouting continuously; I couldn't tell what they wanted to say or what they were doing, which made it oddly entertaining and I kept watching.
There were a lot of people sitting and watching this intently, so I thought, ah, humans are interesting.
Honestly, it was so incomprehensible that I wondered what was amusing about it, yet its incomprehensibility made it amusing.
At night I also talked at length with the guy at the front desk.
I realized once again how talking with someone can save your heart so much. Just by conversing, the things that had been bottled up deep in my chest began to unravel little by little.
Loneliness erodes the heart more than you can imagine.
A place where you don't know anyone, an environment where language doesn't fully get through, a situation with no one to rely on—when all that piles up at once, people become easily weak. But at the same time, you feel just how much human kindness and having someone listen to you matters—it's overwhelming.
That said, when I was walking by the sea I felt pretty low in life. This is what 'loneliness' is like, I thought. I think the strong thing called loneliness was a major cause of this panic attack-like episode. If a fellow Japanese person had been in front of me, this probably wouldn't have happened.
So I deeply felt how painful it is to have no one you know and not be able to communicate. At the same time I wondered why such small things could do this to my mental state. But because of that, I felt the importance of people—the value of connections, the gratitude for friends, the gratitude for family.
After all, I can't live alone. It's precisely because there are people who engage with me.
It was a good lesson. Because of that, I can now take a bit more of a bird's-eye view of people and I feel like I can treat them more kindly and warmly.
Lately I've been taking the initiative to reach out to people. I think this is a really big growth. It was something I couldn't do before.
But by piling up these small successes I'm building a belief inside me that I won't be rejected, so I think I'm gradually becoming less afraid of talking to people. Still, good job me.
That's how it was — today's new lessons came precisely because I put myself in a difficult environment. People on this planet are all brothers. We're all human. Humans are all the same.
