"My friends back home hate me"

A bar conversation that reminded me why I chose the nomadic life

📍Da Nang, Vietnam

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For days, I've been walking past the most central bar in town. The one right on the corner, always buzzing with people. Each time I'd peek in, consider it, then continue on my way. Yesterday I finally decided to sit there, but the waitress led me through all the tables only to find no seats available. I continued on, slightly disappointed.

Tonight I passed by again and saw plenty of open spots. Strange.

I finally sat down, because that urge was still burning inside me. I ordered pizza and ginger ale, having had enough alcohol in recent days. As someone who doesn't typically drink at all, I'd pretty quickly exhausted my quota of local booze experiences.

I sat with my phone and started editing videos, a task I'd been postponing as long as possible, but one that eventually needs doing. Just as I was getting deep into the work, three older men sat down at the table next to mine.

My ears picked up that one was from Australia and the others from England. Interestingly, it sounded like they had met just now. Funny.

It reminded me again how men just form friendships so easily. Earlier today, I sat in a café all day next to another woman who was also working on her laptop, and we didn't exchange a single word. Maybe I just need to improve my communication with women?

Most times I talk to women, it happens when I'm on tours or at some attraction. Then I get excited, and it's no longer me, but Excited Maya, a version that talks to everyone. But when I'm still me, on just a regular day, I'd never approach another woman.

Maybe it feels strange to me? Maybe I don't want to disturb her? Because if she's alone for the same reason I'm alone, then she probably wants to be alone too.

Here's something new I noticed about myself. Let's see if I can crack another feature in this human software. I made a mental note.

Back to the bar. The men's conversation didn't interest me enough to listen in, so I immersed myself in my videos and cooling pizza. Then, mid-huge-bite, I hear "So where are you from?" and the ear closest to their table signals that the question is directed at me.

I raised my head, surprised, chewing, smiling. I covered my mouth with the piece of pizza in my hand, wanting to answer but my mouth still full.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you!" the gentleman said.

I finished chewing after what was definitely an awkward amount of time, and answered: "It's okay, I'm from Israel."

We continued talking as they asked about my route and shared theirs. One lives in Singapore, and told me how expensive it is there and how the government controls everything – even requiring them to replace their cars every 10 years. Despite this, he didn't seem to be suffering. The list of languages he speaks was impressive, though I didn't bother to count. Only before I left did I notice an elaborate gold ring on his finger. Wonder what it symbolizes.

The second lives in New Zealand. Just like me, he feels that urge to see the world every so often. He leveraged his business connections with China to spend a few months in Southeast Asia.

The third told me he grew up in a Jewish neighborhood near Manchester, and knows all the customs. He'd been invited to weddings and was part of the community. So he knew exactly what questions to ask me, and reminded me that there are people who do understand, and maybe even care a little. He mentioned he came here for a one-week vacation, and half a year has passed since – he simply stayed. Interesting how I hear this every day. Must really be an amazing place.

They asked about my blog and wanted to see it. This time I was prepared for this situation, so I proudly showed it to them.

But then one of them just sat there reading me out loud so the whole table could hear.

Okay, I was not prepared for that. Why is it still so embarrassing?

They naturally asked about the technical details: "How many people do you need reading, subscribing, to support yourself purely from the blog?"

"Wow, honestly I don't really know. I haven't thought about a specific number of people, but in terms of income, $2,000 a month would be enough for me to live well, exactly in places like this. And that's what I'm looking for – I'm not trying to get rich (though I wouldn't mind)," I added with a smile, "but my goals are very realistic, and I know I'm making progress towards achieving them." I answered confidently, because I know this responsible part of myself quite well.

"You sound articulate and confident, that's wonderful! And how do you support yourself until you reach that goal?" one of them asked with curious eyes.

"I came here prepared. True, you just read aloud to everyone that I simply packed a suitcase full of courage and flew one-way, but back in Israel I worked a lot and saved enough to allow myself this journey. And when I worked in Australia, I managed to save a very nice amount too. I realized that's what would give me the opportunity to set out when I still don't have stable income. But I know I'm progressing toward my goals, and honestly, I'm in a much better place than I thought I'd be at this stage, so I'm happy."

"Wow, you really do sound sure of yourself. Good for you for choosing this path. I completely identify with that urge to see the world," he replied.

"I see it in you too, and it's refreshing. Because most people think they have no choice but to follow the fixed route of degree-wedding-having kids-buying a house-working until retirement, and that's it. Maybe only then to see the world, but for some it's already too late. And why spend an entire life doing something you don't love just to wait for the 'dessert' at the end?" The words flowed out of me like a river.

"I understand exactly what you mean! My friends back home hate me, because they see in me the opportunity they didn't take, the freedom they don't have. Everyone followed the fixed path you just described, and in my entire city there are only two others besides me who do what I do." He said, and I understood exactly what he was talking about.

I ended up talking with them quite a bit – almost two hours, slowly nibbling on my pizza. The conversation was very interesting, and I found inspiration in the fact that they're living these lives just like me.

It made me think about myself at their age. I wonder if I'll continue wandering forever.

Your support helps me to continue experiencing new worlds and sharing them with you through my words. Sometimes, a single cup of coffee can make a difference.

Thank you for being part of this journey.

Who Am I? | The Journey Through Time | The Daily Journey

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