At least that’s what we thought. That evening, while strolling along the Mekong River boardwalk, taking in the sun set and a brand new night market to conquer, the burger had his revenge on Nate. We got him back to the hostel dormitory where he served a two-day sentence of bed and bathroom confinement. Poor guy. I pumped him full of coconut water, probiotics, and juices, periodically reading Harry Potter to him when he wasn’t sleeping.

Being a bit of a Sandra Dee, I wasn’t sorry at all for an excuse to not join the rice-vodka induced merriment of my fellow hostel mates in the lobby below (Free vodka from 8-10!). Hey, I just “was not brought up that way…”

Eavesdropping on other guests during my solitary time spent in the hostel lobby generally revealed loud tales of the various ways people had been cheated out of their money, travel boasts thinly veiled as recommendations, and competitions over whose hangover was worst, so I didn’t have too much FOMO. Ok, ok. I was more worried about opening my mouth and being judged by my lack of hipness and was just hoping to disguise it by being that zen-like, quiet girl in the corner with her book. Really, I was taking in what my brother aptly named “Chicken graffiti for the soul” covering every inch of hostel wall, and allowed my anxiety-prone brain free reign to judge myself against each trite quip and quote.

Luckily, a short walk away from the hostel was a graffiti-free coffee shop with wifi and chocolate lava cake, so I set up station there while Nate slept, and I started my GRE prep. About an hour in, though, the table in front of me became occupied by four American girls who were much more interesting to overhear. They were discussing the merits of various Workaway options in Vietnam. Nate and I had been contemplating Workaway ever since we’d heard about it from Ben, our host in Switzerland. It’s a way to travel where one exchanges work for free accommodation and often food. We were enticed by the idea of gaining some new skills (example Workaway descriptions we saw involved wood carving didgeridoos for a man in Australia and learning Argentine Tango in Argentina in exchange for help with a homestay), and saving a bit of money. Feeling emboldened by having some common ground, I plucked up my courage and interjected myself into their conversation to ask about their Workaway experiences. This led to learning that one of the four was in Laos for two years training English teachers. Now this was a topic I could handle. We compared stories of teaching English in SE Asia, and I felt accomplished having surpassed my normal all-consuming social anxiety to the reward of a nice conversation. I even sent a message to delirious Nate to tell of my triumph: I talked to people! Real People! He was appropriately impressed.

Travel in SE Asia, with all its ups and downs and close proximity to young hostel crowds hasn't transformed me into tight-black-leather-pants-wearing, sexy Sandy (though I did fantasize about being made over by the performers of Ram Bar...). I'm alright with it though. I have my small victories, and besides, my hammer pants are waaaaay more comfortable.