Field Notes
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The container and the thing
There’s a bridge in Hanoi that rusts and rattles and carries the city’s history in its steel bones. Long Biên isn’t a typically beautiful bridge. But every time I saw it or crossed it, whether on the back of a Grab bike weaving through scooters and delivery drivers, or walking it with a friend while…
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Who do you think you are?
The day before I boarded the ship, I was in the lobby of a hotel in Punta Arenas, doing what I do in hotel lobbies: eavesdropping. Two older men were talking nearby. They had the easy confidence of people who have covered a lot of ground and are comfortable telling you about it. One leaned…
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An act of refusal
During my last morning briefing, I stood in front of the staff and cried. No composed delivery, no careful framing. Just the truth of it: that I was an emotional wreck, that I was deeply grateful, that they had shown me something about care and belonging I would carry with me. My body knew before…
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Leaving well – the Hanoi edition
Noticing the small things through a big change.
Gemma Archer 