The air in Hanoi, Vietnam was chilly, despite the sunshine beaming overhead. The horizon was spotted with luscious foliage on mountaintops, and there was an endless green expanse of water below. I could smell the salty water from the rear of the boat, and the small puddles of water pooling on the wooden deck floor soaked the soles of my feet. Just a preview of how cold it'll be.

The life vest, simply massive pieces of foam covered in nylon strung together, was a less than flattering fluorescent orange dress that made me look like a construction cone. I tiptoed to the edge, baby steps and looked down. It looked like a 10-foot drop at least, and I'm as good with heights as I am with swimming. I was sure I'd drown, and there were no lifeboats in sight.

And then they started chanting my name, a steady rhythm of voices drifting up to me from the depths below, getting louder and louder it seemed.

There was no turning back, only down in a less than graceful full-body plummet, face down into the South China Sea, dragging two others down with me. It almost made me regret declining the late-night swim lessons from my Tiger wielding classmates on the rooftop of the Rex Hotel. Almost.

A smack was audible when I hit the water, and I bobbed up and down after surfacing, like a bright orange buoy. The water was even colder than I expected.

I spent the rest of my time in the water with my hands clenched around the life-vest, terrified all the while that it would slip off and I'd sink into the depths below. After a while, the numbness took hold and I was filled with an unexpected tranquility. I floated on my back as my own personal lifeguard-thanks Jon!-pulled me around like a tug boat. This was one of countless memories from my recent trip to Southeast Asia as part of a two-week study abroad program through the Farmer School of Business. In two weeks, I went to three countries, four cities, took 12 different modes of transportation-I actually made a list to keep track of them all-and met 23 amazing people.

It felt strange arriving in Ho Chi Minh City for the first time in six years. The atmosphere was completely different from what I remembered when my family went back to Vietnam in 2002. Even the airport had modernized. But when I ventured outside to find my aunt-who had come to the airport to welcome me-I was reminded of the Vietnam I remembered. The crowded line of anxious people waiting for family members, the sound of honking motorbikes and mostly, the sweltering heat and dry humidity.

Takeoffs and landings became bittersweet, each one meaning a departure from one place and arrival at another-from Vietnam to Cambodia, Cambodia back to Vietnam, lastly from Vietnam to Hong Kong. Even so, each step off the plane was the beginning of another adventure, the first step to the unforgettable experiences and memories created. (I'm sure if you're friends with anyone who went on the trip, your Facebook.com newsfeed was going on the fritz the first few weeks back from break.)

Two of us bungee jumped off the world's tallest bungee location in Macaw, Hong Kong and proceeded to eat street meat due to hunger. Some of us jumped into the pool in Cambodia to celebrate New Years in our gala dinner attire. (I was simply carried on Kevin's back to the kiddy pool where I stayed and documented the festivities.) Some of us found our purpose in life. (Mine is to be a United Nations translator, and Kevin's to be a Playboy photographer with a 'stache.)

Some of us held a python like Britney Spears in her prime, pre-lip syncing days. Although I'm terrified of snakes, I squeezed in between Tyler and Jackie so it looked like I touched it without actually having to do it.

Some of us formed a band-Singing group Marco Polo found each other in the ultimate testimony to fate in a hotel lobby in Cambodia. They conquered the Southeast Asian market with their debut performance in Hanoi, Vietnam, performing covers of hits like "Hero" and "Baby One More Time" to a less than sober karaoke audience. Two hours, two crates of Ha Noi beer and $200,000 dong later, their signature song, "When You Say Nothing At All," converted listeners to bona fide groupies. Sadly due to conflicting personal schedules, the group has ceased touring, but management hopes to schedule a repeat performance during Karaoke Night at Brick Street before May.

Most of us formed lasting friendships. I've stayed in touch with many people from the trip and can honestly say the friends I've made from this experience are among some of the best people I've met here at Miami University. My only regret is waiting until my senior year to meet them.

I'm so thankful for Friday lunches but not so much for the introduction to afternoon drinking. I don't know what I would do without girl time and random dinners with Breanne and Jackie. I kind of miss Will randomly stuttering my name and the seemingly never-ending line of hands waiting for manicure massages on the tour bus-thanks David, for starting that fiasco! I definitely missing kicking Kevin's butt at slap jack, Tyler throwing beer cans at our hotel window at night to get our attention and Jackie falling asleep two seconds after I start telling her a story.

I'm always going to remember sitting in our closet of a hotel in Hong Kong learning way too much about each other playing "never have I ever" and staying up late to do fortunes. (I'm still waiting to see if Breanne will become a puppy-killer or if Ben will drop out of school and become a rodeo clown.)

The cliché goes, "a picture is worth a thousand words," and I have about 700 of them. Some of them are sentimental; some of them are fun; most of them are incriminating, but I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Cost of study abroad program: $7,500 Money spent overseas: $700+ Hearing B* say, "I've got dong up the a** right now": Absolutely priceless.

(Name has been shortened by request to save embarrassment, but we all know who said it.)