By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
People you meet are reflections of what’s going on on the inside. I strongly come from the school of thought that nature will give you the lessons that you need, in the form you best understand. And I have my ‘aha’ moments when I empathise with others. Professionally a counsellor and personally highly intuitive, I reach out to people when my gut tells me to. Last year, I was in Vietnam on a solo trip and was awestruck by the vibe of the country. But a side story was on, and a very sad one, where my boyfriend and I were on the edge of breaking up due to my issue with forgiving things from the past. So, while during the day, I enjoyed being distracted and out around people, but when it came to choosing hostels for stay, I was deliberately choosing quieter hostel dorms and as lucky as I could get, sometimes, I would get the whole dorm by myself to sulk the night away. Before one such night, in Hue, I checked into the dorm and had a Spanish guy share the dorm with me. Next day, he left and I prayed no one would join me that night. I got back at around 10 pm and still it was just me, which called for a long shower and music. Once relaxed, I sat to meditate. Before I realised, it was 2 am when suddenly the door opened and I got a new roommate- a Vietnamese girl: shy, quiet, sobbing. Generally, it’s not my thing to disturb someone when they are exhibiting extreme emotions because I believe those are moments for self comfort. So I took my book, silently walked to the balcony and started reading. In some time, she eased from those emotions and joined me on the balcony. We got talking. I said, “Hi. I’m Pallavee. What’s your name?” “Dau Thou”, she said. “What does it mean?”, I asked, as by now, I had learnt that every Vietnamese name means something. “It means ‘tender’. What’s the meaning of your name?” I took a minute. Her eyes were red, as red as the tip of her nose, which, was as red as her lips. The tears she had shed made her eyelashes curl and the soft, moisture it left shone in complete coordination with her cheek bones. Her hair fell on her shoulders, magnificently strong, black strokes even at that time of the night. Yes, tender. “Pallavee means ‘onset of spring’” I told her. “Where in Vietnam are you from?” I asked. She told me she was from Hanoi and asked for a cigarette. I offered her one and went straight up with my question: Why were you crying? She told me how her boyfriend broke up with her whereas she should’ve been the one who broke up with him instead. And then, naturally the words flowed out of me about how self esteem is the biggest take away from a relationship that didn’t treat you well. I was doing most of the talking because her English speaking wasn’t so good. But she got me, she said, so I went on. As I spoke with her, I realised it didn’t matter if she was sitting here tonight or not, I was mostly speaking to myself. It was a cue to exactly what I had to do with my life to make more meaning of the words I say. Miracles aren’t always loud and in your face. Sometimes, they’re so subtle that it’s only evident in the vibe of the moment. I realised how we lose the essence of our own values in attachment and how love would never stretch you enough to let that happen. Love is supposed to be as natural as your existence and if it’s anything deviant from that, parting ways with that person, even though hurtful, is.. mandatory. Next day, I had to leave for Hoi An because my tickets were booked. When I woke up, she was still sleeping. I left an encouraging note for her- this time only for her and went on with more clarity. Reflections are such intimate notes to the self!!