
I don’t know what my temperature would have read at the time. I laid in the back of a rocky van, developing a fever with nauseating motion sickness. The two-hit combo was relentless as I tried to fall asleep and make the world stop spinning. I was on a road trip in Morocco with some of my close friends. We had gone against the advice of our tour guide because we craved Chinese food. That’s right — we had Chinese food in Morocco, the best and worst idea of the trip.
The back of the bus was rocky and kept me from fully resting as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The moments I was awake, I thought to myself the predicament I was in — not the fact that I was suffering in the back of the bus — but that the path I was currently on in life would not achieve my goals. As long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to travel the world, meet all sorts of people, experience other cultures, and explore pockets off the beaten track.
That fever was the lighter that ignited my complacency. Earlier this year, my wife and I decided to change the course of our life. After a retreat to the countryside, I wrote a manifesto that I never published — even to all of our friends and family, to whom it actually addressed. Here it is:
To our family and closest friends.
After a year of being married, we’ve decided to get a divorce. Just kidding. No, we’re not splitting up! Get your mind out of the gutter.
What we have actually decided, however, is that this upcoming year is a significant inflection point for the two of us. We are both turning 29 years old entering the next phase of life. We have been fortunate to have great education and solid careers all these years. We are also privileged with the flexibility to travel to many countries with many family and friends. However, with all that being said, it has been a predictable and linear path.
We have decided that in order to properly deepen our understanding of ourselves, each other, and the world around us, to further our various quirky aspirations, and to plan for the near and distant future — we will embark on a year-long journey around the world.
Our goals.
We have never been the type of people wander aimlessly so we will wander with purpose. Our ultimate goal for this journey is to:
Accrue enough life experiences, uncover enough unknowns, and build a shared vision of our future lives together.
There is a lot more to that than can be said, but in short, we’re obsessed adventurers.
Each passing year only stacks on one or two new short trips. We recognize that we will soon hit a wall as we enter the next phase of life with most of the world still unexplored. There is growing despair that the ground around us will soon solidify. As responsibilities grow, how many more adventures can we go on? How many more of these large trips with friends can happen before everyone reshuffles priorities?
In our thinking, we have only scratched the surface of what it means to have a family. Many people probably never give it a second thought, but we are not comfortable with the impact to our lives without strong considerations. What lessons, experiences, and journeys are out there in the world that we have yet to unlock? How do we balance our obsession with adventure with the stability of family?
We both have dreams of leaving our careers in Software Engineering one day and our other life aspirations are waiting on the other side. We have talked about this as our North Star and up until now, we’ve reached our milestones. We think it is time to plot the next decade.
Guiding Principles.
We are fascinated by retrospection how the past 7 years after graduation have flown by. The routines we have built, the schedules that have become familiar, the pace of life we subject ourselves — create a mold of thinking that we fit day in and out. With our upcoming journey, we’ll uptake new principles to challenge the mold we’re used to:
- Take the scenic route and think deeply about the world around us
- Prioritize exploration over comfort when faced with various crossroads
- Family first; baoBao comes along for the journey
- And, from our two favorite companies: embrace the adventure; take intelligent risks
See you later.
We are not the first to go on a journey like this but we think it is important that we share our perspective. This is not a 52-week vacation to check off as many countries as possible before 30. It is a chance for us to take a moment of pause, invest in ourselves, and properly plan for the future.
While we are excited and scared to drop everything so familiar and dear to us to take such a different direction, we are hopeful that this will bring us more confidence and answers to our many decisions that lay ahead.
Afterall, “the best journeys in life are those that answer questions you never thought to ask.”
Love,
Jessica & Anh
Fast forward a couple of months when I returned from my sabbatical, broken but thankful, I told many versions of the story of what actually happened to all our friends. It’s a crazy story, but one I never really got to explain in detail. So, here goes!

Rebuilding our life
After a few weeks of traveling, we finally settled down in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Our friends and family that came along for the first part of the journey went back to their normal routines. We were on our own, left to find meaning in each day and rebuild our new lives.
Fortunately, it didn’t take quite as long as I expected. Jessica would leave to volunteer each morning and I would be very productive in recuperating seven years’ worth of sleep deprivation. Some times, we would get lunch together, but otherwise, I explored the depths of Vietnam’s food delivery system. That’s a story for another day. We were half a world away, so most of the morning was reserved for catching up on what California was up to while I slept.
The afternoons were reserved for our daily gym hours. That’s right. Daily and multiple hours! Now, that’s a luxury. I didn’t know it at the time, but being at the peak of fitness probably contributed to my speedy recovery, somehow. That’s what I’ll tell myself.
Half of the evenings, we hung out with each other, catching up on many TV shows and movies. Thankfully, I packed a Chromecast. Ironically, it felt very “at home.” Eating dinner and watching TV has become a ritual for us; the small moment in our day where we can share an experience without any planning or effort.
The other half, we would play board games with our new-found friends! I discovered, through Facebook, a group of locals spearheaded by — you’ll never guess it — a white guy from San Francisco. They were great. We felt very included and the nights of roaming the city in our motorbike with our new friends were experiences I’ll never forget.
The great road trip
Not long after settling into our routines, we decided to pick up again — to embark on a romantic motorbike through the country, into the mountains of Da Lat.

It took us 14 hours, split between two days of driving to get to Da Lat. Along the way, we had the experience of a lifetime — boarding a boat filled with motorbikes, carving through the mountainsides, stopping to fill our stomachs with Banh Xeo at a random town, driving through heavy rain in our giant rain covers, drinking sugarcane juice at every pitstop, trailing massive construction vehicles that toss dust in our faces, and of course, dodging potholes as best as we can.
Having been through a massive crash course (no pun intended) in navigating the country, we felt confident in the journey ahead.
A wild accident appears
My Apple Watch buzzed a familiar pattern. Before this trip, I had watched Apple’s keynote on the fall detection feature. “Cool, I guess,” I thought. Yet, this was the second time I was experiencing it. Earlier during the trip, Jessica and I had already crashed the motorbike — in the countryside. One of the potholes we tried to power through was just too deep and filled with water. The bike tipped over and we have it all recorded. Minor scratches.
My Apple Watch continued to buzz. I raised my wrist and tapped “I’m okay.” But, that was just to get it to stop buzzing. We weren’t okay. Jessica and I had been in an accident. We didn’t know how at the time and we still aren’t fully sure. It was a casual drive to a popular photography spot in Da Lat. A large truck was approaching, so I tried to slowly brake to let the truck pass. All of a sudden, the bike skidded and we ended up on the ground, sliding a couple more feet before we came to a complete halt.
My ears were ringing. I looked at my hands and they’re completely bloody. I looked at my right elbow, which then had a deep hole in it.
“Huh, I think that’s the bone.” I thought to myself.
The bike was too heavy for me to lift myself. Fortunately, the locals came out and pulled the bike off of us. I tried to walk, but it was no use. My right leg had no strength and I couldn’t bear any weight. I look for Jessica and was just relieved she was relatively fine and walking.
The next couple of minutes were crucial. I needed to go to the hospital and I needed to convince these people to get me there.
Hospital: Level 1

The locals were kind. They took me to the nearest hospital in their car and helped carry me through the doors of the village hospital. Though, as I approached, a man in a white coat waits for me at the hospital doors, arms crossed, as he stares me down. I could barely walk. In fact, I was hopping on one leg with my arm wrapped around the local carrying me. This was a great first impression. This man, presumably the head doctor, wasn’t going to offer any assistance until I got inside. Finally, when I crossed through the doors, they sat me down in a wheelchair. After a round of questioning, I was escorted to a room where I could get an X-ray.
“His bone is shattered,” the doctor proclaimed in Vietnamese.
Yet, I had no idea which bone was broken or what the severity was. He showed me the X-ray, expecting that I could understand how to read one. I just nodded as he sighed as if this was the end for me. Great, now what?
My wounds are cleaned by a younger doctor that had broken English. They were going to stitch the giant hole in my elbow. It was at this time that I remembered what America has taught me. There is HIV everywhere. Nope. No shady needles going into my skin, please. Transfer me to the city hospital.
Total bill for the service: $8.
Hospital: Level 2
An ambulance arrived to pick me up. It looked like a normal van with some lights strapped to the top. I thought to myself, “Ehh, not sure what I was expecting.”
A short while later, we arrived at the larger city hospital. I’m transferred onto the common area’s hospital bed. A lady approached me and started whispering in my ear. How she knew that I understood Vietnamese, I’ll never know.
“You should transfer to a better hospital. Ho Chi Minh City has better doctors that can take care of you. This place has bad doctors. Let me know and I’ll be able to take you.”
I looked Jessica dead in the eye. “Do not let her take me. Whatever you do, do not let her take me.” Ho Chi Minh City was a 6-hour drive away. She was the ambulance operator and had everything to gain by charging me money to take me away. I didn’t need spidey-senses to feel a scam like this one.
This was a private ambulance company. In a country like this one where there are limited regulations, it’s easy to see how companies can prey on people during their weakest moments. That was surely me. Not falling for this trap, I thought. I may be hurt, but I’m not gullible.
The common area was filled with beds. The locals there looked worse off than me. Ironically, however, I was the last one to leave. There were people with giant gashes on their faces and legs. The doctor would stitch them up and let them go on their unmerry way. At least it was a very efficient system, I thought. The doctor stitched me up while I carefully watched to make sure that all the equipment that would puncture me was taken out of properly sealed bags.
The next couple of hours were important. We had to figure out a game plan. We were in a foreign country with no way to get back to America. We didn’t know what was really wrong with my leg. We still had our motorbike abandoned somewhere. We had our Airbnb with our luggage inside.
While the doctors were quite annoyed with us for sticking around and asking questions, we managed to sort everything out with a calm head. We coordinated the motorbike pickup through WeChat. I contacted one of my friends in America with pictures of the X-ray to learn more. And, we arranged for transportation back to Ho Chi Minh City via our insurance.
Ironically, we ended up taking the ambulance lady up on her offer to take us.
Total bill for the service: $40.

The ambulance karaoke
In a country where no price is fixed, so goes the ambulance ride. We were able to negotiate the cost of the ride and have them make a pitstop for Jessica to pack up our Airbnb and check out.
A doctor actually accompanied us the entire way on the ambulance. I guess, he was there in case I needed any pain medication or help. He was asleep most of the way. Perhaps he thought I was totally fine?

After all the trauma and adrenaline, it’s good to fill your stomach. I took this as a good sign. My body still wants Banh Mi. While I was eating this, I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.
I’m in the back of an ambulance eating a Banh Mi, on a 6-hour drive with sirens blasting. The doctor that’s accompanying me to ensure I’m okay is asleep. The two drivers in the front have EDM music turned on and singing along karaoke-style.
While the predicament was unfortunate, it really felt like this was a chapter of comic relief. Not too long later, we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City and the next episode begins.
Total bill for the service: $200.
Hospital: Level 3
We arrive at an international hospital — coordinated by our favorite insurance service: International SOS. I am a huge fan.
<Free plug for International SOS>
Everything from the coordination of the ambulance ride to providing me the best care while I was abroad was with the help of International SOS. The comfort that someone with the domain knowledge of the medical system was taking care of me, paying my bills, calling me every couple of hours to see if I was okay, coordinating my medical evacuations and transportation was an essential part of my expedited return to the US. This should be the gold standard for travelers.
</Free plug for International SOS>
I felt this hospital rivals one in America. It also helped that I was one of the few patients that night so I had the utmost personal care. I had the pleasure of witnessing how wounds were cleaned in three different levels of skills this day. Thankfully, my nurse knew what she was doing. I was very happy to finally be “pampered.”
It was a celebration. We were just so relieved to be safe, after having been through many hours of uncertainty and concern. Here we were, relaxing in a first-class hospital with peace and quiet. What an oasis in the middle of a desert. That night, I slept soundly.
Locked and loaded
“You’re being prepped for surgery,” the anesthesiologist proclaims the next morning, as she passes me the standard form for any medical allergies and history. What? “Your surgery is in a couple of hours.” What?! The orthopedic surgeon had apparently deemed my bone was too broken. I would need surgery to pin the bone back before I could fly home.
“This is it. I’m going to die here,” I thought. My physician friends in the states warned me that whatever I do, I needed to come home and not get any procedures done in Vietnam. This may be a great international hospital and the doctors may be skilled, but without proper regulations, who knows what shortcuts they may take or what incentives they’re partaking. Of course, that could happen in America too, but at least, I wouldn’t be stuck in Vietnam.
The surgery wouldn’t take long, they said. It’s also a routine surgery and the orthopedic surgeon has performed it countless times. My worry deepened — not just because I was getting surgery, but because I would be trapped in Vietnam for a couple of weeks to recover. The worst-case scenario was happening. I’m going to die here.
“I want to get the surgery in America,” I begged to the doctor, as I’m grasping onto the phone with vigor.
“I’m at lunch. Okay, no problem. No surgery required. Conservative treatment plan.”
Wtf.
Apparently, during this time, he had reviewed the CAT scans I took earlier, which revealed substantially fewer damages and surgery would not have helped. But, hey, it was lunchtime. Didn’t seem worth making a phone call to stop prepping surgery. Interesting.
Needless to say, we all let out a huge sigh of relief. Onto the next challenge — getting home.

The long journey home
I wanted to GTFO of the hospital. They made me stay another night. Though, it wasn’t the worst idea. With more advice from my physician friends in America, I convinced the doctor to give me an MRI. Get this — it was only $20.
We spent the day with plenty of exciting activities — watching TV, ordering extra hospital meals, getting bathed, testing crutches, and just enjoying the fact that we could do all this.




Best of all, because I couldn’t fit in a normal economy seat for the flight home, International SOS bought me AND Jessica business class tickets on Cathay Pacific. Jessica was deemed a medical escort and tagged along for the ride. What’s even better was that from our Airbnb in Ho Chi Minh City until we touched foot in SFO, we had assistance and priority the entire way.
People greeted me at the gates to transfer me to airport lounges while we waited for our flights. We had the best service. We were the first to board, even before business class! By far, this was the most pleasant flight I’ve ever taken in my entire life — even with a broken leg.
Total bill for the service: $5,000.
At the end of the day, we didn’t pay a single dollar. Thank you insurance.

Home sweet home
Like how this story begins, I laid down at home broken but thankful, contemplating where our lives take us next. Our goal for a year-long sabbatical was cut short and we don’t intend on returning to it in the near future. Should I be upset that the goals we set, we’re no longer going to accomplish? What about the tradeoff that we won’t be as young and won’t be able to travel in the style we had hoped for?
I’ve re-read our manifesto countless times since returning from this trip. Sure, it would have been a magical experience. There’s no denying that. I think we could have used the introspection just from being away from home.
I also felt a sense of certainty in my decisions.
This accident accelerated my realization of what I define as an adventure. Prior, that meant the pattern of finding time to book PTO, spinning the globe and finding a new country to explore, and convincing friends to hop on board for the journey. Yet, as I’ve begun to notice, it’s really not just the novelty of new countries I enjoy. It’s the obstacles and solving deep unknowns that constitutes an adventure. In that sense, this trip has more than satisfied my thirst.
We embark on the next decade of our lives with memories of the challenges we’ve overcome this trip. Whatever we end up doing and wherever we choose to have an impact on the world, we know that it’s the strength of our teamwork that will define us. As for the introspection we never really got time for, I guess big decisions can be made over weekend retreats to the countryside.

Special thanks to my helpful Vietnamese aunt that stuck with me most of the way and made sure I got the best treatment possible.

