Connections

 

I will never take for granted the privilege that my Canadian passport grants me. It takes less than 3 minutes to clear customs (“Where did you go?” – “Why did you go there” – “OK, bye”). It wasn’t long enough to finish an Ariana Grande song. I’ve said many times, that I am still getting used to it. I told Kelly this morning “Without this passport, I’m just a brown Vietnamese guy that they love to “randomly select” to harass.”

The funny thing about time is that sometimes it doesn’t feel very linear. Kelly got a reminder on her phone yesterday about our meeting in Helsinki 9 years ago. We were reminiscing about Lyon last year, and Haiwaii 10 years ago. Flashback, 13 years ago, Jia En and I had a conversation about leaving Singapore and where we will end up. Apparently, years later, in Switzerland. 

“Do you think I’ve changed?” – Kelly asked, introspectively. Of course, she has. Of course, I did. For once, we did all get older. We are all more “set in our ways” (aka stubborn af). We value our comfort way more. We are also more certain about ourselves, about our lives, and about the choices that we continue to make.

“What do you think about Switzerland?” – Jia En asked. “Small and expensive” – I said – “and people are cold and distant”. To be honest, it’s like an overpriced Calgary. I mean if I was to be overlooked and ignored (or tokenized) by white people, I’d rather do it affordably from the comfort of home in Calgary. If I am to feel isolated and disrespected, I’d rather do it with the big blue sky and spacious backyard where I can grow flowers and vegetables. The Swiss milk and cheese are good, but I’m lactose intolerant, anyway. 

“I will never understand it. But I will always be happy for you and I will always be rooting for you” – I said. 

And I guess that’s the point, about connections, about friendships, about love. It’s never about understanding. It’s about acceptance. I will never understand why I fell in love with a conservative Christian French Canadian with a beard, but I do. I will never understand why he chose to stick with an anxious ball of hot mess like me, but I am grateful he still does. I will still forever have a hard time believing in “forever”, but I can now picture it. It has his face on it. His very beardy French Canadian face.

I don’t have many friends in my life. I don’t make meaningful connections easy. But I’m forever grateful to know I have connections all over the world that I can go to, and connect with, across time and distance. I am forever grateful for the connections I’ve made in my life, in Vietnam, in Singapore, in Philadelphia, in California, in Chicago, in Boston, in NYC, and in Canada.

So I am sitting in the Montreal airport, waiting for my connecting flight (in 6 hours, which is agonizing). Montreal is the Canada connection, for me. My 2 uncles were boat people and now they live here. Montreal was the first Canadian city I visited. It’s my port of entry. It’s my connecting place. But Calgary is home. It is flawed. It feels isolated and disconnected at times. But it’s home. 

“Mảnh đất giữ chân một người khi nơi đó chôn cất một người thân hay đang sống một người mà mình yêu thương”