My Love for Asia | Its Origins and the Never-Ending Journey in Search of Laid-back Vibes

Hola, this is Teresa.

While I am now a total "Asia lover," I wasn't always this deeply immersed in Southeast Asia. It all started with a trip to Bangkok I took with a college friend in 2018. It was my first time setting foot in Southeast Asia, using a cheap HIS tour package popular with students. That was the foundational experience of my love for Asia.

Honestly, I wasn't used to traveling abroad back then, and it was an era where having a smartphone wasn't a given. There were no map apps, so I spent my days squinting at the small map attached to the "Chikyu no Arukikata" (Earth Walker) guidebook to get around. Moreover, the hotel was part of a "local free plan" style tour. I would easily book everything myself now, but back then, every little thing felt like an adventure.

We chartered a tuk-tuk during the trip. We were so excited that we could go wherever we wanted, but the driver took us on a course that unexpectedly included a suit shop and a jewelry store. He didn't care about a student's budget at all. It was clearly a pattern where the driver gets a commission, and before I knew it, we were in a back-and-forth argument of "This isn't where we wanted to go" and "I told you to go straight to XX, didn't I!?" We couldn't communicate well, and we ended up getting off in a hostile mood. I received my baptism of Southeast Asia early on.

Furthermore, there was a bus ride back to Bangkok from Ayutthaya or somewhere similar. We missed our stop in the city and were dropped off at a pitch-black bus terminal in the middle of nowhere. By Japanese standards, it was truly terrifying (though there were streetlights). I wasn't used to the darkness at all, so I was quietly panicking. I realized that maybe this is when you feel "alive" while traveling... and by the time I calmed down for some reason, I noticed I was actually excited. I still remember the pounding of my heart and the mango sticky rice I ate at some food court afterward. Even though it's been over 10 years.

Such experiences, as a result, flipped my "travel switch." Before I knew it, I started taking spontaneous trips to Asia whenever I had time.

Once I started working, naturally, my time off didn't align with others. It became difficult to coordinate schedules with friends, and I gradually shifted to solo travel. My second trip to Thailand was when I was still a new graduate. I squeezed out a four-day holiday and went on a whirlwind solo trip. It was hectic, but I was overjoyed by the fact that "I made it back" and "I did it all by myself."

And the memorable third trip to Thailand was in 2020. I had taken small trips to places like South Korea and Taiwan, but this time I took my son, who had just turned three, and went just the two of us. I pushed through it at a time when I didn't even have much paid leave at the startup I had just joined. The hotel we stayed at was, as expected, dirt cheap, and my son was stunned by the shower that only produced cold water.

My son, who looked like he was about to cry because he couldn't even swat away a fly on the first day, was eating street food with gusto just a few days later, which made me grin. Intentionally throwing ourselves into such inconveniences might be my ego as a parent in a sense. But I also have a desire to occasionally insert experiences that make us feel a bit on edge into our overly convenient daily lives. Japan is truly convenient, comfortable, safe, accurate, and orderly... and that should be a wonderful thing, but sometimes, there are moments when I suddenly stop and think. "Am I okay as a human being like this? Is this alright?"

Living in such a "perfect society" where hot water boils at the touch of a switch, trains arrive to the second, things are delivered at the push of a button, queues are perfectly lined up, and mistakes are met with immediate apologies, I start to feel like even my emotions, failures, and fluctuations are being processed as "inefficient." Everything moves so smoothly that I almost forget that I am a "human." Holding my breath, trying not to make mistakes, trying not to step out of line... that seems convenient, but it's somewhat suffocating. That's exactly why I want to go to places where it's okay to be a little bit messy.

When I book a flight and chant, "No, I'm going to Thailand," I can do my best no matter how much I'm struggling at work. It's purely the "carrot effect."

And recently, I traveled to Laos. Here, too, was a treasure trove of "laid-back vibes" and "the unexpected," which deepened my love for Asia even further.

For example, when I accidentally locked my key inside my room at the hotel I was staying at. When I rushed to the front desk and pleaded, "Please help me!", the staff member handed me a bunch of keys with a big smile. "I think it's in here, so open it yourself," they said. What!? Where did the concept of security go? But somehow, it was so easygoing that it made me laugh, and I was completely healed by that looseness.

At the Blue Lagoon 2, a famous spot in Laos, there is a diving platform about 6 meters high, but there are zero lifeguards. Everyone was jumping freely while laughing, and although I thought for a second, "What if there's an accident?", I immediately thought, "Well, whatever," and jumped with my son. The feeling of cutting through the wind and the splash upon hitting the water was incredibly refreshing, and I understood what "laid-back but free" and "self-responsibility" meant. I was truly moved by my son's courage...

I also encountered an unexpected scene at a temple in Laos. At the feet of a monk and a believer who were interacting with serious expressions, a cat was fast asleep. A laid-back daily life was melting into the sacred and solemn atmosphere, and that imbalance was strangely comfortable. I was strangely moved by this sense of "coexistence of life and faith," which is unthinkable in Japan.

When I rented a motorbike, I asked, "What number gasoline should I put in?" and was just told, "Go to the gas station and give them money, it'll be fine." I thought, "Is... isn't that explanation too sloppy?" but that easygoing nature made me relax my shoulders. Sure enough, it worked out at the gas station. By the way, the sight of gasoline being sold in plastic bottles on the side of the road is practically a cultural heritage now. It's flammable... on the side of the road... in Japan, that would be an immediate report, but in Laos, it's normal. If anything, it's heartwarming.

Like this, there are many daily lives in Southeast Asia that are "not done properly but still work out." Scenes you can only encounter because things don't go as planned. Freedom that isn't bound by correct answers or manuals. That's why I can't stop loving Asia!

Japanese society is strict with time, loyal to discipline, and does not tolerate mistakes. When you try hard to "live properly" within that, your breathing becomes shallow before you know it. But when you go to Asia, that atmosphere suddenly loosens up. It's okay to be slow, it's okay if things are a little off, there's a feeling of forgiving each other.

The more I travel, the more Asia's "laid-back vibe" helps me unwind.

Perhaps this is the root of my love for Asia.