My Experience Becoming a Vegan While Traveling Southeast Asia

The sound was horrifying, gut-wrenching. Foreign but not completely unfamiliar. It wasn’t something I’d heard before yet I knew immediately what it was.

I had just arrived in the Chinese city of Yangshuo, excitedly awaiting my four-hour cruise down the otherworldly Li river that was scheduled for the following morning.

As I rounded the corner of the alley my two-star hotel was in, I braced for impact.

And what I saw made me sick to my soul;

A sweaty, unhygienic-looking man on the busy street, repetitively beating on a four-foot by four-foot cage with no less than thirty puppies inside. They were stacked four levels high, howling a cacophony of soul cries, as this man, this animal death dealer, antagonized them by rapping on the cage with his metal pipe.

For a moment I forgot who and where I was. I ran up and got in his face, my eyes narrowed and my nostrils flaring. The man didn’t seem scared, worried, angry, or even confused at my actions, but he did stop banging on the cage. He stared at me, mildly inquisitive. I slowly brought my anger from red to orange to yellow. Logic seeped in and I eventually stepped back, pet one of the puppies through the cage as I mumbled a limp apology to all of them, and walked away.

There was nothing I could do that wouldn’t result in me getting arrested. And the same imagined fate would befall the pups regardless.

I walked around in a daze for the rest of the afternoon, my appetite squelched. I didn’t even notice the rest of the town, because all I could see was that cage.

That’s how it started.

Two weeks later, on a high from visiting the now world-famous Halong Bay in Vietnam, I was with a group riding the bus to Ninh Binh. An eye-watering stench assaulted our nostrils. It lingered for a mile or two but eventually, we pulled alongside the culprit — a large truck carrying rows upon rows of pigs. Everyone else covered their noses and made collective groaning sounds but all I could do was focus on the eyes of one of the pigs. What was it thinking? What was it feeling?

When I got to my Ninh Binh hotel, starving and tired, I ordered a huge plate of pork egg rolls. They were eyes-rolled-to-back-of-your-head delicious. But as I devoured the first two and picked up a third, that pig’s eyes flashed in mine, and something snapped in my brain. I put the eggroll down and went up to my room. And justified. And pleaded. And warred. And wept.

The veil of cognitive dissonance that I shrouded myself in had lifted. The tenuous wall that blocked my view every time I dressed, ate, and consumed became transparent. And the weight of all of the truths I never let myself think about came crashing down on me like an avalanche. I wept for those puppies. For the pigs. For every sentient being who had ever been exploited for my food, clothes, and products. Most of whom had the capacity to feel love, joy, fear, and pain. Just like me. I couldn’t even think of the suffering endured to keep the other 7 billion people on Earth comfortable. It was all too much.

When I came to, something had shifted in the core of my being, and my heart made a decision.

I had unwittingly and unintentionally become a vegan. In the middle of a five-month Southeast Asia trip no less. I still had three weeks in Vietnam, and a month apiece visiting Cambodia and Thailand.

I would’ve liked to wait until I got home to embark on such a drastic lifestyle change. I mean, I had a variety of carnivorous culinary adventures planned before I left the States. But nope, not anymore. My conscience wouldn’t allow it.

Strange diet in a strange land?

The following day, I did some research, browsing the PETA site as well as several vegan forums. I didn’t need to reinforce something I felt intrinsically but I did get lots of good information and deepened my conviction in the process.

But…..how was I going to eat??

As it turned out, I didn’t really need to worry at all. Ninh Binh had 3 vegan-only restaurants within a mile radius. So every day after I’d run myself ragged exploring the water caves of Trang An, the pagodas of Bich Dong, and the views of Mua mountain, I’d explore the wonders of plant-based Vietnamese cooking. Vegan Pho and Vegan Bahn-Mi became my go-to’s.

When I got to the criminally underrated mountain city of Dalat 10 days later, I felt like I was already in my plant-based groove. I immediately became a mainstay at the vegan restaurant three doors down from my hostel. Run by two friendly middle-aged women who doted on me every time I came in, I couldn’t get enough of their noodle and veggie/tofu dishes.

By the time I took the boat down the Mekong Delta into Cambodia, my groove had expanded into normalcy. Looking for vegan eateries in new cities and towns was actually contributing to the richness of my experience. Telling people I met on the road I no longer ate animal products wasn’t met with the disdain or judgment I’d been expecting. A lot of times it was a conversation starter.

Like the Swiss/Czech couple I met on the tropical Cambodian island of Koh Rong. There was only one place to eat and when they saw me ordering the same delicious fried rice dish over and over they wanted to know why. We ended up fast friends and hung out in 2 other Cambodian cities. I still keep in touch with them to this day. Or the restaurant owners and patrons that I would make small and large talk with (eye-stalking someone’s plate and asking them what they ordered was a surefire way to get a convo going). I realized veganism was a pretty tight-knit community. Nothing helps people relate to each other more than a shared conviction. “You too? I feel the same way. What’s been your experience?”

Six weeks later, after having traveled the backpacker circuit through Kampot, Siem Reap, Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Pai, I ended up on the beautiful dive island of Koh Tao for my final week in Southeast Asia.

It was the end of January 2020 and Covid was just starting to unfurl its rage across the globe. Reflecting on my trip, I thought of all the people I wouldn’t have met, conversations I wouldn’t have had, and places I wouldn’t have seen if not for my lifestyle change. I was bombarded with an immense sense of gratitude for my experience.

Coming Home

I realized pretty quickly when I got home that I hadn’t considered all the implications of my new lifestyle. Traveling, in a way, had allowed me to dip my toes in the water without being fully submerged.

I decided early on that I wouldn’t be purchasing any animal products going forward. Not for myself, or anybody else.

But I hadn’t yet witnessed the hurt on my Mom’s face when I told her I couldn’t pick up milk for her at the store. Or the irritation in my friend’s voice when I had to nix his third restaurant choice because none of them had options for me. Or the raised eyebrows when I had to decline to pick up dog food for my roommate/friend's dog.

And those were just the little things. Dating, marriage, raising kids, work, dog ownership, family get-togethers — I realized I would have to reframe all of it to reconcile my new truth with my previously envisioned future.

Heck, I was the only vegan I knew. I didn’t have several like-minded people around me for support and guidance. Not that most of my friends and family haven’t been supportive. They have. And I’ve joined forums, meetup groups, and even a vegan dating site. But sometimes I still feel like I’m on an island, population: 1. Oh well, I consider it a small price to pay.

I definitely don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. Quite the opposite actually. I’m blessed to be living in alignment with my values and feel that a great burden has been lifted off my soul. One that I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

That doesn’t mean my new way of looking at and interacting with the world doesn’t leave me sad and disturbed sometimes. Animal exploitation is engrained in the very fabric of our society. And it’s impossible for me not to notice all of the things that we celebrate and enjoy at the expense of animals.

I’m aware that there are many complex issues regarding our food sources, agriculture, and ecosystems. I’m also not naive enough to believe that just because I don’t knowingly buy or consume animal products that I don’t still contribute to animal suffering indirectly. But I can say I’m trying to educate myself and minimize my hypocrisy as best as I can.

So for now I’ll work on ‘being the change’ and remain hopeful that our moral evolution will someday include the cessation of animal exploitation.

Will we look back fifty years from now and think, “I can’t believe we used to subjugate and kill millions of animals every year. Can you imagine that happening today?!”

Maybe then we can actually live up to our definition of humane.

Now, I’m not looking for a debate, because morally, I don’t feel it’s debatable. Even with my veil down I always felt that way. I just put my convenience ahead of animals suffering. And for that I am ashamed. My penance going forward will be in my actions.

If it hasn’t already, maybe one day your veil will be lifted too. And with it, may your walls come crashing down. In fact, it is my fervent and everlasting hope that they do.