Slouching through Southeast Asia
On privilege and snake penis. A guest post by Benjamin Hightower.
Hi everyone, Jean-Luc here. I’m excited to feature The Portmanteau’s first guest post. In this post, musician and college professor Benjamin Hightower shares a heartfelt, humorous look into traveling through Vietnam and Cambodia as he wrestles with uncomfortable experiences, the inequality of the modern world, and yes, even the genitals of reptiles.
Day 1/24: Airport in Seoul, South Korea
I just tackled a toddler… what I mean is that I just kicked a toddler to the ground in front of her parents and the rest of the fine patrons of the Asiana Business Lounge.
You see, in one hand I had a freshly made latte and in the other a baked good, and as I was swiftly rounding a corner, mouth watering, so was the toddler. She was flying, hands out, eyes closed, heart open. She ran right into my knees at a cool 70 mph, from which she ricocheted and hit the ground. I tumbled over her, somehow salvaging my latte (it’s about priorities).
It’s in those quiet, unsettling seconds, after a toddler gets hurt and they haven’t decided to cry yet (in a quiet business lounge), that the world stops and all eyes fall on you. In that moment, you are the performer. The curtains are drawn, the lights are centered, and it’s time for you to put on the best damn show you can to keep this toddler from hysteria. Despite my greatest theatrical efforts of shushing, silly faces, and absurd noises, this toddler decided to scream. Her father was shielding her from me while she cried. I didn’t know what to do so I just kept bowing with my hands in a praying position (it’s so offensive, I know). I left swiftly after. The toddler was fine, I’m sure, but I certainly lost a jewel in my heavenly crown this day.
Day 2/24: Mondulkiri Province, Cambodia
Text message: Of anyone I could summon with the snap of a finger right now, it would be you
Day 6/24: Phnom Penh, Cambodia
I was asked to join a group of 10 students and one other teacher on this all-expenses-paid cultural immersion in Cambodia and Vietnam. The trip was meant to be rudimentary, full of jungle-sleeping, floor-sleeping, and in my case, not-sleeping as I have “sleep PTSD” (look it up if you just scoffed… it’s a real, privileged disorder that only an American would claim). Before we left, the trip organizer asked me if I was ok with “roughing it” for three weeks, to which I lied through my teeth “of course, that’s totally my vibe.” (I travel with slippers so I don’t barefoot hotel carpet if that says anything.)
I want to say this trip could not be further from “roughing it”. In our first few days of travel, we’ve stayed in a combined 14 stars of hotels, with spas and breakfasts overlooking city views. It’s so glamorous I could vomit. To our credit, we did sleep in a hammock one (1) night this week in the Cambodian rainforest which, had less of a white-robe-exfoliating-facial-vibe and more of a spray-on-insect-repellent-before-bed-vibe, but it was a surprisingly pleasant, Ambien-assisted sleep.
Side note: we slept in this forest to help a small community build a brick outhouse. We worked on it, sloppily, for 20 minutes until they suggested we swim instead. We came back to our work being redone. I guess we did a shitty job (outhouse joke).
Day 8/24: Siem Reap, Cambodia
I stayed in tonight at the hotel. I think I needed a break from myself. You know that feeling when you can’t stomach the thought of hearing yourself speak for one minute longer?
I’m really diving in to authentic Cambodian culture. I booked a massage, had the hotel bring me two entrées, and I watched a weird Michael Douglas movie called “The Game”. I wore the complimentary robe, of course.
Day 11/24 Ho Chi Minh City
Tonight’s soundtrack is Phoebe Bridgers’ Garden Song.
“And when I grow up, I’m gonna look up, from my phone and see my life”
Much of the architecture in Ho Chi Minh is French-inspired, which is cool but also terrible considering the horrors this region went through at the hands of Westerners. I, being the Francophile I am, wandered into a FANCY French-Vietnamese fusion restaurant with a $25K espresso machine and impressive wine collection. The ceiling was designed by none other than Alexander-Gustave Eiffel himself. I was sticking out like a sore thumb in travel gear, so the owner walked up to me and asked where I was from. Fulfilling every French stereotype (silk pocket square, killer mustache, named Timothée), we spoke in French for an hour about our lives. I told him I was an artist with my free time and he told me he would engrave my name with the other “celebrities” who had visited his restaurant on a bench in front of the bar. My name is now a permanent fixture at Café Runam D’or in Ho Chih Minh City if you ever find yourself there.
Day 12/24: Ho Chih Minh City, Vietnam
The thing about this trip is that I considered backing out until I stepped on the plane. You see, I have this insatiable desire to write music. So much so that I don’t do fun things so that I can stay home to write music, but then I just end up sitting at home not writing music and wishing I was doing said fun thing. It’s an excellent cycle. I think secretly my subconscious enjoys the self-punishment. Anyways, the idea of a three-week trip was so stressful to me that I thought about not taking this free trip so I could sit in my house and wish I had taken this free trip. Thank God for friends who are more sensible than me.
I’m so glad I came (obviously). It’s been beautiful thus far. I’ve eaten spiders, baby duck brains, egg coffee, and even a human baby (jk on the last one). I’ve hiked miles through the Cambodian rainforest, swam with elephants, boated trade canals, napped in a thunderstorm, prayed in ancient temples, and cried a fair bit. I’ve written and listened, meditated and learned, and had several emergency trips to the bathroom.
Day 13/24: Hue, Vietnam
For whatever reason, when I travel I get this awful, panicky feeling that I’ve lost my purpose. I get fulfillment from task-accomplishment, so when I’m not working I begin to lose myself. I hate it and I want to be content just being, but then I get an email from my boss that I read 80 times, trying to figure out why he didn’t say “thanks” at the end of his email. (“…Is he mad at me? What did I do wrong? Oh God, he thinks I’m a bad at my job. Well, there goes my future. I need another plan… maybe I’ll work remotely for some tech company… that’ll give me a bunch of free time. Oh god! What if I’m unhappy with all that free-time??…” and so on). I want to learn how to be happy outside task-accomplishment. I’m at the beginning of this process.
Day 15/24: Hue, Vietnam
The nail in my privilege coffin was today, a 95-degree day in Hue, Vietnam. I woke up unhappy to sweat my ass off at yet another ancient temple (roll your eyes with me, please). Gold-bond applied to my chaffed netherlands, I boarded the bus for a brief detour to a local orphanage. Our plan was to give the children some gifts we had brought from the States (to which I didn’t contribute). We sat down for green tea with a Buddhist nun, talking with her about why she gives her life to these children. Through tears, she explained that everyone has love within them, and that every child deserves a chance to experience that love. I cried consistently for the hour after that. I don’t say this to virtue signal—my tears were a combo of shame and admiration. Shame because of my lack of charitable action and complaining about how much rice I’ve had to eat and how I miss my routine. Shame for considering backing out of a free trip. Shame for the beautiful life I live, which I shrug my way through. And then certainly admiration for the beauty of this woman’s life purpose.
The students sat in a circle with the children at the orphanage and took turns singing songs in Vietnamese and English. I sat next to a boy with Down Syndrome, who looked at me with his beautiful, free innocence and waved. I waved back, stood up, walked to the corner, and sobbed. The worst part is all I did is take up space with my tears, as the kids were just trying to have fun together. I kept thinking of Bernie Taupin’s lyric in “Your Song”- How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world. I wanted these kids to know that, as I’ve known that my whole life.
I cried all the way to the next temple, at which I got pissed off by the heat. Maybe I’ll never change, maybe I don’t deserve to.
Day 17/24: Hanoi, Vietnam
Crossing the street in Hanoi is a delicate dance with death. You can’t stop in the middle of the street, nor can you run across too quickly. You have to steadily and confidently make your way, weaving through drivers who have no regard for human life. Most likely crossing the street in Vietnam traffic is a great metaphor for life, I’m sure, but I feel like I don’t need to explain it.
Day 18/24: Hanoi, Vietnam
Text message: I’m sitting in this RITZY hotel in Hanoi wishing you two were with me…
Text message 2: Oh my god they brought me sorbet
Text message 3: oh god… there’s jazz!!
Day 19/24: Hanoi, Vietnam
Tonight’s soundtrack is Sufjan Steven’s “The Only Thing”
“Should I tear my eyes out now… everything I see returns to you somehow”
Yesterday you asked if I was lonely. How could I be? I am consistently surrounded by 10 needy college kids and another teacher.
This year I’ve consistently pushed the limits of my vulnerability. Sharing deep parts of myself has allowed me to release shame and bask in the sunlight of others’ admiration. On this trip, traveling with students has required my focus for retaining composure and addressing any travel-related issues that arise. My creativity, emotion, and humor are all capped, resulting in an internal excess of sadness, joy, anxiety, and gratitude, a small percentage of which can be shared with my co-travelers. I’m bursting at the seams with more emotion than I know what to do with. So the answer is yes, I’m super lonely, thanks for asking.
Day 20/24: Ha Long Bay, Vietnam
I’m sitting on a cruise ship in Ha Long Bay, watching the sun set on prehistoric-looking islands jutting out of the deep green bay. I’m smoking a cigarette, listening to Vietnamese karaoke songs echo from the other cruise ships docked nearby. I’ve had so much pineapple I’m feeling woozy.
I went on a cruise to Jamaica in college with some friends. We stayed in a 10x10 closet. I HATED it. I found it all too hedonistic—every sense I could ever want filled was immediately available for me, within moments. There was no creativity nor flexibility required. In many ways my life feels like a cruise ship, where everything I want is accessible to me. And it feels like I’ve never not been on this cruise ship. Sure, life has dealt me some blows, but I’ve never known real want. Maybe I never will. Does this mean I’ll never truly be thankful? Or even further, does this mean I’ll never be deeply happy? This all makes my stomach churn (much like it does on cruise ships…).
Day 22/24: Sapa, Vietnam
Today I am unwell. My brain sounds like that awful, choppy thing that happens when only one window in the car is cracked. I have an aching hole in my chest. I don’t know exactly why, but today I thought about letting go. If I can focus on what I’m grateful for, I think that can help.
Day 23/24: Hanoi, Vietnam
This is our final day in Southeast Asia. Our flight leaves at 11:30 P.M. (hell on earth), so, in order to kill time our host brought us to a village near Hanoi specializing in snake-based cuisine. Apprehensive, yet curious, a small percentage of our group watched as a local chef brought out a live cobra, slit its chest, ripped out its beating heart, drained blood into a sugar-water mixture, mixed in chunks of the cut-up heart into shot glasses, and offered them to our group. Praying God would one day forgive me I downed the snake blood potion as our host explained the mixture has aphrodisiac-qualities. We then ate every possible part of the snake, in every possible form (even the penis) and it was truly, truly, awful.
Day 24/24: Somewhere over the Pacific
My trip is over and I’m feeling all over the place. I’m highly anticipating sliding into my hotel quality, Italian cotton sheets with a higher thread count than what is currently in my checking account (I think my quality of life expectation has outpaced my paycheck— I blame Instagram). I don’t have any huge life lessons that I can distill from this trip. More of an experience I can communicate. I do know that 24 days is too long for this Enneagram 3 to travel. I do know that I love the people I met, who, in the wake of the not-so-tourism-friendly pandemic, could not have been happier to share their country. And I do know that I’m incredibly, deeply fortunate to have been handed this life-changing trip on a silver platter. I’ll store these experiences like little treasures in my heart and use them when I can, to relate to others, to appreciate complexity, and to contribute to my constant struggle against viewing life through the lens of Western superiority. I’m spoiled rotten, but I hope I’m growing.
You can find more of Benjamin’s creative work on Spotify or wherever you get your music.
We’ve got to note this for legal reasons: Benjamin is an active duty Air Force Officer, but none of the views expressed in this article reflect official views of the Air Force or the Department of Defense.
I miss you man. Wow what a life you live! Would you have known you would have done all this (and more) when you were just a brace face kid? Really. Sounds like God has shown you a lot of the wonders and the people around the world during your travels. Thankful to know you and see (and hear) of your growth through adventures.
You are loved!