Through the portals
Originally published on The Ubyssey My mom is packing a suitcase before her 23-hour flight to Vietnam. The smooth rolling of its wheels intertwining with the staccato rhythm of duct tape echo through the quiet house. Her veinous hands organize the items like an engineer assembling the ins and outs of a teleporting machine carrying capsules from this portal: five packs of musky-scented Eagle oil (for senior relatives constantly battling with arthritis) two bulky boxes of chocolate (for the innumerable nieces, nephews, grandnieces, grandnephews and beyond) and plastic-wrapped bottles of lotion and shampoos (for their mothers, sisters and aunties). The destination label lying neatly on the sleek surface The stretches of words, diphthongs and diacritics — enigmatic codes carrying the traveller to a bustling street in Saigon, with motorcycles trickling down the narrow lanes alongside which warps the smoky grilled meat from vendors, all within the humid city, pulsating day and night. I...