Two Months In Asia
By, Wendy Day
At the end of 2025, I went to Asia for two months. In seven weeks, I visited twelve cities. I spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve in Hong Kong. It felt surreal, like stepping into another version of my life. I met extraordinary people, immersed myself in unfamiliar cultures, and navigated an entirely different continent alone. I did it without speaking any Asian languages and without running out of money. By the time I returned home, my self-esteem was on 12, on a scale of one-to-ten. Ha ha
The reason for the trip was to attend a five-day educational wellness program in Koh Samui, Thailand, focused on belief operating systems. I was accepted from over 1,000 applicants as one of twenty-five participants from all over the world, and had a full year to prepare to travel. The program centered on identifying subconscious beliefs formed in childhood and consciously rewiring them to better align with who we are today. My goal has always been to be the best me that I can be.
Somewhere along the way to adulthood, I absorbed ideas that were quietly shaping my decisions: there are no happy marriages. You cannot get ahead without extreme hustle. Money does not grow on trees. I am bad at math. Love must be earned. Women cannot have both thriving families and successful businesses. None of these were objectively true, yet they influenced my choices as if they were facts.
The subconscious mind is powerful, but it is not mystical. It is neurological. What we call the subconscious is largely driven by automatic systems in the brain. The amygdala scans for threats and tags emotional memories. The hippocampus stores context. The basal ganglia convert repetition into habits. Over time, repeated thoughts and emotional experiences strengthen neural pathways. Neurons that fire together wire together.
If money was tense in your household, your brain may have coded it as unsafe. If love felt conditional, your nervous system may have paired achievement with security. If you observed unhappy marriages, your predictive systems may have built partnership models that exclude joy.
The brain’s primary job is survival, not fulfillment. It constantly predicts what will happen next based on past data. This predictive coding operates below conscious awareness. The brain asks, “What does this resemble?” and responds according to old programming. That is the subconscious at work. It feels like personality. It feels like truth. In reality, it is pattern recognition based on prior experience.
The empowering part is neuroplasticity and knowing that the brain can change. When you consciously question a belief, interrupt a reaction, or repeatedly practice a new way of thinking, you begin weakening old circuits and strengthening new ones. This does not happen instantly. It happens through repetition. Each time you challenge a limiting belief with evidence, you lay down new wiring. Each time you experience safety in an area that once felt threatening, you update the predictive model.
Rewiring is not positive thinking. It is deliberate neural conditioning. Awareness activates the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for reflection and decision making. When it engages, it can override automatic fear responses from the amygdala. That is the moment choice becomes available. And that is the moment real change begins. While many people were celebrating Thanksgiving in 2025, I was in Thailand doing exactly this work.
While planning this trip in 2024, I realized the flight to Bangkok was twenty-one hours, and I immediately knew I would not be returning to Asia anytime soon. After speaking with my staff and clients, I decided to stay in Asia through New Year’s Eve.
I began in Bangkok, then traveled to Siem Reap, Cambodia, to visit Angkor Wat. Watching Buddhist monks make pilgrimage to temple ruins that have stood for centuries was humbling. Seeing a modern Starbucks near the visitor center with monks inside sipping lattes, blew my mind! But it was also a reminder of how old and new constantly coexist.
Cambodia was by far the most affordable country I visited. A can of Coke cost the equivalent of fifty-three cents US, for example. The markets were vibrant and the people warm. It felt grounded and real.
After the retreat in Koh Samui, I returned to Bangkok and hired a female guide for my first day. She took me through markets, museums, grocery stores, and a community art center. It was fun and fascinating.
What struck me most about Bangkok were the plethora of Malls that were everywhere. Apparently, it gets hot in the summer and the air conditioned Malls bring relief for people without air conditioning in their homes as they’re a place to hang out.
Traffic was very thick in the city and there were seas of scooters stopped at traffic lights which were extremely chaotic because they moved past the stopped cars to assemble right at the stop line at traffic lights.
One thing I noticed quickly were the bundles of tangled electric wires overhead on the streets. I’m amazed the power flowed and there weren’t more fires. Somehow, it all worked.
From Bangkok, I flew to Chongqing and boarded a five-day Yangtze River cruise. After a stressful year, having nothing to do but read, eat, and watch mountains rise from the water was healing. The gorge scenery was breathtaking. I finally had the time to study Chinese history deeply instead of skimming it.
Chongqing at night looked like a neon dream. Entire skyscrapers were lit colorfully from top to bottom. It felt like Las Vegas but on a far grander scale. We sailed to Yichang, and from there, I flew to Beijing.
I had wanted to visit China for decades. Previous attempts were interrupted by life. In 2025, I had no more excuses. Beijing was affordable and fascinating. Government-owned industries shape much of the economy. Tea ceremonies were everywhere, and tea was medicinal, not recreational. I bought a kilo of a tea I fell in love with and carried it home.
Even at the Great Wall, in brutal cold and wind, I was captivated. Because no one else showed up for the tour, it became a private lesson in Chinese history and culture, at 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrrr!
Shanghai felt different. More cosmopolitan. Beijing reminded me of Washington, DC. Shanghai felt like New York. Wealth was visible in the architecture and malls. A Buddhist temple sat beside the world’s largest Louis Vuitton store shaped like a cruise ship. There were lines to enter both.
In Shanghai, I experienced something powerful. My VPN stopped working, and suddenly none of my American apps functioned. No maps. No ride services. No communication tools. English was rarely spoken. For a brief period, I was alone without digital scaffolding.
In a market, I met a woman selling souvenirs. We did not share a language, but we shared energy. We connected instantly. I bought from her not because I understood her words (I had no translator app at that point), but because I felt her spirit. That experience reinforced something I have always known in business: energy translates even when language does not.
By the next morning, my VPN returned and I regained digital mobility. But the lesson stayed with me. For some unknown reason, I didn’t panic when I had no access to anything. I just enjoyed using my resilience and innate skillsets in the moment.
Transportation across China was inexpensive. The DiDi taxi system (an app for taxis similar to Uber in the US) allowed me to cross entire cities for about $3 US. By the time I left China for Japan, I was craving any food other than Chinese food.
Landing in Tokyo felt like entering a different world. Japan was orderly, calm, and precise. China felt frenetic and aggressive by comparison. In Tokyo, people queued politely for trains. In Shanghai, crowds surged forward.
Tokyo was expensive, but extraordinary. The food was exceptional. I attended more tea ceremonies and calligraphy classes. I spent time on the campus at University of Tokyo. I took the bullet train to Kyoto, which became my favorite stop of the entire trip. Kyoto blended ancient culture and modern design seamlessly. Even the manhole covers were art.
I did a professional geisha photo shoot in Kyoto, but I chose to immerse myself properly rather than treat it as tourist cultural appropriation. I worked with professionals inside the geisha community and learned how disciplined, intelligent, and sophisticated that culture truly is.
Instead of flying to Singapore, which was supposed to be my next stop, I chose to return to Tokyo for five additional days. I visited museums, painted calligraphy, and soaked in the precision and design sensibility that defines Japan.
My final ten days were spent in Hong Kong, a city I had wanted to visit for most of my adult life. It did not disappoint. Spending Christmas Eve in a tea house inside a tea factory on the outskirts of the city remains one of my favorite memories. The woman who owned the company is bad ass!! She taught me more about tea and negotiation in one afternoon than many formal classes ever have. After the class ended, we sat there talking for hours on Christmas Eve. She’s an amazing human being and we still keep in touch.
Hong Kong felt a bit like New York City to me. Energetic, layered, and alive. I also chose to travel beyond the glossy skyline into working-class neighborhoods. I saw extreme wealth and deep poverty coexisting. Markets, methadone clinics, brothels, luxury towers. It was real.
The food in Hong Kong may have been the best of the entire trip. I visited Macau and Shenzhen briefly but felt more aligned with Hong Kong’s energy and returned quickly.
This journey was epic! It was the trip of a lifetime. It was expansive, educational, humbling, and strengthening. I returned not only with photos and souvenirs, but with upgraded neural pathways, deeper self-trust, and a renewed understanding of how resilient and adaptable I am.
I think about that trip often and I am profoundly grateful that I went.