John Eliot Williams – Nervous and Nomadic

Phu Quoc, Vietnam’s Plastic Paradise

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Winter and I spent eight days in Phu Quoc, the so-called ‘Hawaii of Vietnam’—at least, that’s how it’s marketed. It’s also the only place in Vietnam where you can get a visa on arrival, a detail that speaks volumes about its role as a tourist playground rather than a genuine cultural destination. Now that I’ve left Vietnam, I can finally be honest: Phu Quoc is not the paradise it pretends to be. Phu Quoc has incredible potential, but the first red flag appeared as soon as we arrived in ‘Sunset Town’—a bizarre recreation of Venice, complete with a replica of the Campanile di San Marco towering over the town square. A faux Italian city on a Vietnamese island wasn’t necessarily a dealbreaker, but the atmosphere was unsettling. The streets were eerily empty, with nearly 90 percent of the buildings abandoned, yet construction rumbled on, as if building more would somehow summon the missing people. One of Phu Quoc’s biggest issues is plastic waste. Now, this isn’t unique to the island—Vietnam, and SouthEast Asia as a whole struggles with plastic pollution. But in Phu Quoc, the problem is particularly glaring. Take Sao Beach, for example, a place often advertised as one of the ‘most beautiful beaches in Asia.’ In reality, it felt more like a public landfill than a tropical paradise. Seeing the sheer amount of trash, I wanted to help, even in some small way. I spent hours searching for an organization or charity dedicated to cleaning up the island. Frustratingly, I found nothing. The closest thing was a group that had organized beach cleanups back in 2023, but they seemed to have disappeared. As a tourist, without a proper way to dispose of the waste or the right tools, organizing my own cleanup wasn’t realistic. The real issue isn’t just the plastic itself—many countries struggle with that—it’s the fact that in 2025, there appears to be no one even trying to solve it, despite the fact 16.5-20 tons of trash leaks into the environment DAILY. (about 87% is plastic waste). On a more positive note, the Hòn Thơm Cable Car—officially the longest three-wire cable car in the world—was absolutely worth it. Floating high above the turquoise waters, it offered breathtaking panoramic views of Phu Quoc, Dừa and Roi Islets, and Hòn Thơm itself, stretching nearly five miles across the sea. Winter and I spent the day in Hòn Thơm at ‘Aquatopia,’ a water park clearly designed with foreign tourists in mind—particularly Russians. We had a blast—though, unfortunately, both of us ended up sick the next day. The water park itself was modern and well-maintained, but with admission prices equated to roughly an eighth of the average Vietnamese monthly wage for just a single day, it was clear this place wasn’t built for locals – albeit, it seemed to be a large employer. Phu Quoc was an experience, and I’m glad we went. But if I’m being honest, it’s probably a place I’ll never return to—at least not without major changes. The island may have its moments, but I found myself missing the raw, chaotic energy of Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City—the places that felt alive, unpredictable, and unmistakably Vietnamese. In contrast, Phu Quoc felt like a plastic paradise, built more for tourists than for those seeking an authentic slice of Vietnam.

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The Hanoi Hilton, Vietnam – February 21st Part 1

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On our first full day in Vietnam, we visited the infamous Hỏa Lò Prison, better known as the Hanoi Hilton. The imposing structure loomed before us, its entrance marked by the chilling inscription Maison Centrale—a relic of its colonial origins. Built by the French in 1886 and operational even before its completion in 1901, this prison became a symbol of oppression long before the Vietnam War. During the war, it housed American POWs—whom the Vietnamese ironically dubbed “special visitors”—including John McCain, whose flight suit remains on display as a stark reminder of the prison’s layered history. The Hỏa Lò Prison complex, now a museum dedicated to its grim past, opens with a stark reminder of its colonial legacy. That legacy can be summed up in one word: torture. Prisoners were crammed into suffocating cells, packed shoulder to shoulder, while others were subjected to isolation chambers so inhumane they seemed designed to break the spirit before the body. In these chambers, ankle shackles locked captives onto a declining slope, forcing them into agonizing positions where sleep was nearly impossible. The French perfected the art of suffering, ensuring that imprisonment here was not just a sentence—it was a slow, calculated destruction of the human will. Designed to hold 450 inmates, the prison regularly housed more than 2,000, the vast majority being political prisoners. But the overcrowding was just the beginning. Towering over the exhibits, one of the most menacing relics of this era remains: the guillotine. Beside it, haunting photographs of its victims stare out from history, silent witnesses to their own brutal fate. The horror did not end at execution—prisoners were often paraded back to their home villages, their severed heads displayed as a warning to others. The French even took photographs of the heads, a grotesque trophy of colonial dominance, as if cruelty itself was something to be immortalized. The prison didn’t shy away from its role in the Vietnam War—but the portrayal of American POWs was noticeably sanitized. Their suffering was conspicuously absent, replaced with a carefully curated narrative that framed them as “special visitors” rather than prisoners. The exhibits were hesitant to even call them prisoners, with terms like “special visitors” used instead. The exhibits downplayed the brutal conditions and interrogations, instead choosing to highlight moments where Vietnamese doctors and civilians saved American lives. While I expected some degree of revisionism, this version of events felt like a deliberate erasure of the harsher realities. It was history—just not the whole truth.One aspect that did stand out as more balanced, however, was the museum’s recognition of John McCain’s post-war legacy. Unlike the whitewashed portrayal of POW experiences, McCain’s efforts to rebuild U.S.-Vietnam relations were given notable respect. His multiple visits back to the prison, once a place of his greatest suffering, were framed as acts of diplomacy and reconciliation. The museum even honored his contributions, acknowledging his role in normalizing relations between the two former enemies. In a space so reluctant to acknowledge American hardship, it was striking to see McCain’s name treated with such regard. As Nelson Mandela once said “No one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails.” Few can claim to know Vietnam as intimately as John McCain, a man who endured years of imprisonment within its walls. Yet, when given the chance to hold onto resentment, he chose a different path—not vengeance, but reconciliation. Instead of letting his suffering define his legacy, he worked to heal the wounds of war, proving that even in the face of unimaginable hardship, peace is a choice we can still make. Perhaps that’s a lesson worth remembering. -John

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Vietnamese Folklore Comes to Life: Hanoi’s Water Puppet Theater – February 21st Part 2

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At the end of our first day in Hanoi, we immersed ourselves in one of Vietnam’s most enchanting cultural experiences—the Thang Long Water Puppet Theater. This mesmerizing art form, dating back over 1,000 years, originated in the Red River Delta, where villagers once performed with puppets over flooded rice paddies. Today, this tradition thrives at Thang Long, the only water puppet theater in Asia that runs performances year-round. Recognized by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage, the show brings Vietnam’s folklore to life with intricately carved wooden puppets dancing effortlessly over water, guided by hidden puppeteers. Accompanied by a live orchestra playing traditional Vietnamese instruments, the performance was a vibrant blend of storytelling, music, and artistry—truly a cultural delicacy to experience in Hanoi. These artists have perfected their craft with unwavering precision, turning each performance into a seamless spectacle. With six shows a day, each lasting just one hour, they bring 17 captivating scenes to life—every moment infused with centuries of tradition. From mythical dragons to village festivities, each act is a glimpse into Vietnam’s rich cultural tapestry, masterfully executed with rhythm, grace, and an almost hypnotic flow. The only drawback? The lack of etiquette from the audience—mostly Western tourists. Bright flashes from cameras lit up the theater despite clear no-flash signs, and at one point, a couple in front of us hoisted their child high in the air, bouncing them on their lap as the little one shouted loudly, completely ignored by their parents. It was a frustrating reminder of how some people seem oblivious to those around them, both fellow spectators and the dedicated performers on stage. That said, don’t let this deter you—the magic of the show far outweighs the distractions. If you’re in Hanoi, this experience should be at the top of your list.-John

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My favorite day in Japan – February 16th

1 Comment / Japan / John Eliot Williams

February 16th: My favorite day in Japan February 16th wasn’t just one of our final days in Japan—it was the day that captured everything I loved about this incredible country. A perfect blend of history, culture, food, and art, all shared with good company. We kicked things off by meeting my cousin, Nikolai, at the Tokyo National Museum, an absolute treasure trove of Japan’s rich past. While the Hello Kitty special exhibit was drawing quite the crowd (understandably so), we decided to dive straight into the heart of tradition: the main hall. The highlight for me? The kimonos. These weren’t just clothes; they were wearable masterpieces, each thread telling its own story. The intricate patterns, vivid colors, and delicate embroidery weren’t just beautiful—they were reflections of Japan’s centuries-old dedication to craftsmanship. Every stitch carried whispers of history, signaling not just fashion, but status, symbolism, and artistic expression passed down through generations. Of course, no deep dive into Japan’s cultural legacy would be complete without samurai armor and katanas. Each piece felt like it had its own spirit—echoes of battles fought and honor preserved. The sheer detail in the armor was mesmerizing, from the layered plates to the menacing masks. If you have any fascination with Japan’s warrior past, this museum is a must-see. After soaking up the history, we stumbled upon a lively festival right outside the museum. The air buzzed with music, laughter, and the irresistible smell of street food. We grabbed some snacks and drinks, a perfect warm-up for what would soon become the best meal of the trip—yakiniku. Nikolai took us to an incredible yakiniku spot, where the concept is as brilliant as it is simple: 70–90 minutes of all-you-can-eat, grill-your-own meat perfection. But this wasn’t just any meat—we’re talking wagyu beef, marbled to perfection and practically melting on the grill. The act of cooking it ourselves added a fun, interactive twist, turning the meal into both an experience and a celebration. Every bite was packed with juicy, smoky, mind-blowing flavor. Between the sizzling grill, the lively chatter, and Nikolai’s hospitality, this meal easily became an unforgettable highlight. But the night wasn’t over yet. Our final stop was TeamLab Planets, a museum that completely redefined what I thought an art experience could be. This isn’t your typical “look-but-don’t-touch” gallery—it’s an interactive journey where technology, nature, and creativity collide. Every room felt like stepping into another dimension, engaging not just your eyes but all your senses. One moment that stayed with me: wading barefoot through ankle-deep, warm water in a room that transformed into a digital koi pond. The koi weren’t real, but the way they moved and shimmered in the water felt eerily lifelike—like we were part of a living painting. It was surreal, peaceful, and completely mesmerizing. You’ll want at least three hours here to fully immerse yourself in everything it has to offer. From exploring centuries-old traditions to sharing laughter over sizzling wagyu, and finally losing ourselves in a digital dreamscape, February 16th was packed with unforgettable moments. It was a day that captured the essence of Japan in every sense—and a memory I’ll carry with me forever. Big thanks to Nik for making the day so special. If every trip has that one perfect day, this was ours. -John

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Kyoto Day Trip – February 11th

Japan / John Eliot Williams

On February 11, our last full day in our Osaka Airbnb, we decided to make a day trip to Kyoto, which was the political and cultural capital for over 1,000 years. It complemented our day trip to Nara, which was the capital for a brief time before this. Unlike many cities in Japan, Kyoto was largely spared from destruction during World War 2, preserving its wealth of temples, shirines, and historic districts. Today, Kyoto stands as a testament to Japan’s past, where centuries old traditions continue to shape the present. That being said, visiting the imperial palace was a must. Although no longer home to the emperor, it remains a powerful symbol of Japan’s imperial history. The palace grounds, set within Kyoto Gyoen National Garden, showcases elegant traditional architecture, and is meticulously maintained. Standing within the Kyoto Imperial palace, surrounded by the echoes of a thousand years of history was a profound experience. Knowing that generations of emperors walked these same paths, shaping the course of Japan, made the moment feel surreal. The weight of tradition and the passage of time were palpable, a quiet reminder of how much has changed, and how much remains the same. After this, we made our way to the Ninja-Samurai experience museum. This was definitely a very “tourist:” activity. However, I enjoyed it nonetheless. We got to see pieces of armor and swords that were 700 years old. They taught us a brief history of the samurai, including up to the last one,Saigō Takamori. We also learned that the famous haircut worn by samaria, the Chonmage, was primarily a practical application to pad their heads from the heavy helmets. We were able to try on replicas. Overall, I would rate this experience a 7.5 out of ten. I wish it delved deeper into the history personally, but we still had fun. A day trip is not nearly enough to experience all that Kyoto has to offer. However, it was still absolutely worth it. Even in just a few hours, we were able to catch a glimpse of its rich history, stunning temples, and vibrant culture. While there’s so much more to explore, every moment we spent there felt meaningful- enough to know we would love to return one day. -John

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