Buzz Cuts, Dressing Simple, and Packing Light

An ode to simply living.

As you read this, I’m in the foggy haze between asleep and awake some 35,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean pointed towards Hanoi, Vietnam.

My head, with hair buzzed to its stubs, is rolling from left to right on the headrest, trying to find a position that feels like my cervical spine won’t snap if I’m finally able to doze off.

On my feet is a pair of sandals, the ones you’re supposed to be able to run in, my Mom gave me for Christmas.

A small black twenty-six-litre backpack containing all of my belongings for the next 48 days sits in the overhead bin above. Five pairs of underwear, four t-shirts, three shorts, one towel, and my raincoat. 

Once I reach Hanoi, I’ll pray my eSIM works and call a car or, if I want to feel so alive that I could die at any moment, a motorcycle to my hostel where I’ll claim a bunk in my six-dollar per night six-bed dorm.

I fear I won’t fit in at hostels anymore.

I partied and drank when I first travelled around Europe and stayed in dorms. I was the bastard who stumbled in at 3 a.m. waking people up. In other words, hostels were perfect.

While my body has just aged six years since then, my spirit has matured about sixty. My girlfriend tells me I have the soul of an old man. She’s right. I’m in bed by ten most nights, shaking my fist to the air while internally cursing anyone who disturbs my rest.

And I haven’t drank in over a year. 

But in my journal one morning last week I promised to try. While I’ll graciously turn down drinks and club invitations — although I doubt my athletic attire and military cut will muster many of those — I’ll smile and start conversations and ask questions. The opportunity to serendipitously meet people you connect with, like writing online, is one of the ingredients that makes travel magical.

Once my bed is staked with my blue microfibre towel on its pillow, I’ll be eager to tamper my exercise anxiety — the existential fear, I seem to be alone in possessing, that I may digress, even marginally, in my fitness. 

Exercise, whilst travelling, takes a combination of creativity, confidence, and being okay with looking like a freak in public places. My kind of challenge. I’ve already scouted a lake with a glorious trail, uninterrupted by cars or lights, that measures 1.64 km in circumference. Four or so laps around that followed by some push-ups and downward dog under a tree will do for now.

Then onto the fun: the first meal in a foreign land. High in protein, of course.

Southeast Asia has had me dreaming of Asian street food since I was eighteen. My love for markets started as a young boy on early morning trips to The St. Lawrence Market in Toronto with my Dad. Warm air blasted us as we stepped through the forest green doors, a comforting reprieve from the bitter cold of winter. Inside I felt enveloped in a warm cocoon of friendly conversations, the enchanting aroma of fresh baked scones, and stalls piled high with produce behind which stood a proud owner.

And Hanoi has some of the best markets in Vietnam.

Once I’m sufficiently full of phở, bánh mì, or whatever dish I happen to stumble across first on my long list of Vietnamese food to try, a post-meal multi-purpose walk, to explore, digest, and fight jet lag, will be in order. 

After my walk and the long journey getting here, I’ll be tired and pleasantly surprised by how much of the city I’ve already seen. I’ll amble back to my hostel lounge, crack open my worn leather-bound journal, and start writing…

I buzz my hair and travel light to reinforce that the richness of life isn’t in how I look, where I live, or the things I’m able to afford but rather the experiences I have and the imprint I leave on those I interact with. Without fancy fashion and flowing locks, I’m naked. Stripped to my actions. Rather than judging myself in a reflection, I must use other people as a mirror of my character. Did I make them smile? Pick them up?

I workout because, without it, my head wouldn’t be as clear and unburdened as my backpack. Physical minimalism is trendy. I don’t find it challenging to live with few possessions. The real test of minimalism is your state of head. If your mind is a muddled mess, cluttered with ideas, thoughts, and opinions you can’t make sense of, having fewer physical possessions will hardly improve the quality of your life. I exercise to keep a clear mind and a strong body.

I travel to thrust myself into unfamiliar lands with strange people. To have out-of-body experiences that allow me to see myself in ways I never have. The more I travel, the less I hate. Travel has shown me the real world and oh how different it is from the one I’ve seen on TV.

I write to discover parts of me I didn’t know existed. To learn about the world and all the things in it that grip me. And to meet people like you who are interested in doing the same.

---

An ask: This piece was different from my usual style but if you liked it, I’d be grateful if you’d consider tapping the “heart” ❤️ at the top or bottom of this page. It helps me understand which topics you like most and supports this newsletter’s growth.

Thank you! — Jack

---

Quote I’m pondering

“Set aside a certain number of days, during which you shall be content with the scantiest and cheapest fare, with course and rough dress, saying to yourself the while: 'Is this the condition that I feared?”

― Seneca, Stoic philosopher

Exercise I rely on while travelling

Archer push-ups are my go-to upper body strength builder when I don’t have access to equipment. They demand stabilization and explosive strength from your chest, shoulders, arms, and back.

Source: strengthlevel.com

Photo of the week

My brother,

Tommy Dixon

, recently took up photography.

He’s been practising by taking unsolicited photos around the house and caught this one of me last week between euchre hands.

Between euchre hands with my brother, mom, and stepdad.

Thanks for reading!

Lots of love,

Jack