I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be just an average American again, floating through this world where people’s values are suddenly so foreign to me. My first day back I walked into a grocery store, then a shopping center and saw nothing worth having. Nothing about this world demonstrated any appreciation for the natural and cultural beauty that’s left an indelible imprint on my mind. Even driving in the car on the highway felt like an out-of-body experience. It’s not as if I didn’t ride in taxis in Vietnam; riding in a car certainly isn’t a uniquely American experience. Still, it had never occurred to me before, but in a car you can’t feel yourself moving. It’s stiff and sterile, as if you’re floating in space completely disconnected from the people moving alongside you. I want to see their faces, hear their exuberant chatter with the person riding with them, feel the brush of a silky audoi as the woman next to me heads off to work. Vietnamese traffic is its own life force. Even taxis are crammed in with masses of motorbikes, weaving in and out of them as part of the same entity. Here in America, everyone seems disconnected.
I can’t seem to adjust to the English language either. Of course I always spoke English while I was in Vietnam. In fact, it was sometimes a refuge in a country speaking a language I never quite got the hang of. But now that it’s all I hear, English sounds coarse and severe. I miss the musical quality of Vietnamese and in a way I miss not understanding everything that was said around me. True, understanding a language makes you more connected with the people who speak it, but not understanding makes you more connected with yourself. I feel somewhat selfish and hypocritical for saying, this given how I carry on about being a culture junkie and trying to bond with the people around me, but I miss the solitude too. When I couldn’t understand what was being said around me, I became much more introspective. I learned to rely on feelings instead of words, a skill I’m finding it hard to retrieve now that I’m back.
My head is filled with thoughts of Vietnam but I can’t seem to share my thoughts with anyone around me. I’m afraid I might bore them by talking about nothing but Vietnam, but I do have a willing audience so that can’t be the only problem. Perhaps I am still relying on feelings as I did in Vietnam, because now my words seem to fail me. Every time I start talking about something that happened in Vietnam, a memory passes through my mind. I try desperately to describe the memory using every sense I experienced it with, but I just end up rambling aimlessly like a kid who hasn’t learned how to effectively tell a story yet. All my memories seem pointless when I try to put them into words, but they’re still so vibrant in my head. I’m frustrated when I try to talk about my experiences, but listless when I don’t. I found myself in Vietnam but now I feel like I’ve lost part of that. My only consolation is that the part I lost is still there in Vietnam.
I still feel like I’m a part of Vietnam even though I’m not physically there anymore. If I try hard enough, I can still smell pho in the morning; I can still taste the basil and chili paste in that perfect instant right before the broth goes down your throat. I’ll open the window in the car and imagine I’m back on a motorbike in Saigon, with the wind blowing on my face and the hum of motorbikes around me. When I close my eyes, I still see mountains, deltas, gibbons, markets, Buddhist temples, and Van Anh eating snails. I left a piece of my soul in Vietnam and one of these days I’m going to have to go get it back…or join it.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Vietnam Day 65 (8/12/09)
This is it, my final day in Vietnam. Really it just feels like a continuation of yesterday, but the longer I can drag out my time here the better. Some people didn’t make it and fell asleep when we got back from the cafe, but I stayed up. We were leaving for the airport at three in the morning and going to sleep before then would have just thrown me off. We got off the bus at the airport and gathered just a few feet away from where we’d first seen our Vietnamese roommates, but this time we were saying goodbye. We all hoped it wasn’t forever but we definitely won’t see each other for years, which is devastatingly sad. Hieu started tearing up early on and went around giving everyone hugs, which started the chain and soon everyone was embracing. I saved the best for last, giving Van Anh a final bear hug before entering the airport. Right after we got inside the roommates texted those of us who still had cell phones to say more goodbyes and tell us they loved us all. It seemed they were getting pretty choked up back on the bus. I still remember how awkward it was when we first got here, but we got so much closer over these nine weeks and now I’m as natural around them as any other friends.
Now it’s just us Americans, sitting at the gate reminiscing about our time in Vietnam. I’m not sure where I am in my head right now. We’re in the midst of such an extended transition period that my emotions and even my personality are disjointed. I feel like I have changed somehow, but I can’t pinpoint it. Now I’m thinking back to the reverse culture shock video we watched a few days ago and wondering what it will be like to be back home. Will my friends and family think I’m different too, and how will I interact with them if I can’t even figure out what has changed in me and to what extent. By the time I got on the plane it was painful to stay awake any longer so I took one last long wistful look at the Vietnamese rice fields out the window and fell asleep.
When I woke up we were in Hong Kong and it was time to say goodbye to the group flying through San Francisco. This goodbye wasn’t tearful because we’re certainly going to see each other again pretty soon. After that it was just Alex, Van, and I on a fourteen-hour flight to Chicago. My last view of Asia was a barge slowly trudging through the se, then the plane increased in altitude and there was nothing but clouds. Halfway through the flight I was talking with Alex and we realized how removed we are now from Vietnam. We passed some sort of barrier in time or space where everything suddenly became a memory rather than our lives. I still can’t exactly figure out how I’ve changed, but I do suddenly feel older. Vietnam feels like a whole lifetime and with that much experience behind me how could I not grow up a bit.
This international flight didn’t seem quite as long as the last one, but that’s probably just because I was so tired that I slept through most of the trip. As we descended, a distinctly American landscape came into view. The ticky-tacky suburban houses looked no more original the closer we got to them – the blocks of identical houses almost looked eerie. Even stranger were the roads, which were oddly devoid of motorbikes. The whole scene looked like something out of a movie. I don’t know how this much change is possible after only two months away, but I’m having trouble identifying with my nationality. While I was in Vietnam, being American was such an indelible part of my identity, a part that I was more proud of than I ever had been living in the U.S. Now that I’m back though, I find myself thinking more of Vietnam as my homeland.
After passing through customs, we walked outside and I was pleasantly surprised to find how noticeably clean Chicago is compared to the smog of Saigon, but once we were back inside walking around the airport everything seemed foreign. I guess it was my first bit of culture shock, but it was kind of uncomfortable to join crowds of Americans who all seemed so big, both taller and more overweight than most of the Vietnamese I’ve been living amongst. We were followed everywhere by the sickening smell of fast food. We thought of maybe trying to get something to eat but as soon as I saw the prices I decided to wait until I got home. I adamantly refuse to pay six dollars for a little pizza – that’s two days worth of meals in Vietnam. I don’t know what I’m going to eat when I get home either because all I really want right now is pho, fan-cakes (little dishes of rice-paper topped with meat and quail egg we had a couple of times in Saigon), or maybe spring rolls with corn! It’s a challenge to remember to say, “thank you” and “I’m sorry” because “camon” and “xin loi” have become so instinctual.
I’m still nervous about actually getting home – how will I be able to talk about all the things that have happened to me? My cousin already sent me a text simply asking, “how was Vietnam?” I haven’t responded yet simply because I have no idea how to put the answer simply. I guess I should figure out a short and sweet answer I can give to all the other people who will surely ask and won’t want to know every detail. I’ll need to keep myself in check and not talk about only Vietnam 24/7. It’s certainly the only topic of conversation that comes to mind right now. I don’t know yet if my relationships with family and friends will change or if we’ll interact differently, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough because I’m landing in Durham in less than ten minutes. Jai ai…is it really over?
Now it’s just us Americans, sitting at the gate reminiscing about our time in Vietnam. I’m not sure where I am in my head right now. We’re in the midst of such an extended transition period that my emotions and even my personality are disjointed. I feel like I have changed somehow, but I can’t pinpoint it. Now I’m thinking back to the reverse culture shock video we watched a few days ago and wondering what it will be like to be back home. Will my friends and family think I’m different too, and how will I interact with them if I can’t even figure out what has changed in me and to what extent. By the time I got on the plane it was painful to stay awake any longer so I took one last long wistful look at the Vietnamese rice fields out the window and fell asleep.
When I woke up we were in Hong Kong and it was time to say goodbye to the group flying through San Francisco. This goodbye wasn’t tearful because we’re certainly going to see each other again pretty soon. After that it was just Alex, Van, and I on a fourteen-hour flight to Chicago. My last view of Asia was a barge slowly trudging through the se, then the plane increased in altitude and there was nothing but clouds. Halfway through the flight I was talking with Alex and we realized how removed we are now from Vietnam. We passed some sort of barrier in time or space where everything suddenly became a memory rather than our lives. I still can’t exactly figure out how I’ve changed, but I do suddenly feel older. Vietnam feels like a whole lifetime and with that much experience behind me how could I not grow up a bit.
This international flight didn’t seem quite as long as the last one, but that’s probably just because I was so tired that I slept through most of the trip. As we descended, a distinctly American landscape came into view. The ticky-tacky suburban houses looked no more original the closer we got to them – the blocks of identical houses almost looked eerie. Even stranger were the roads, which were oddly devoid of motorbikes. The whole scene looked like something out of a movie. I don’t know how this much change is possible after only two months away, but I’m having trouble identifying with my nationality. While I was in Vietnam, being American was such an indelible part of my identity, a part that I was more proud of than I ever had been living in the U.S. Now that I’m back though, I find myself thinking more of Vietnam as my homeland.
After passing through customs, we walked outside and I was pleasantly surprised to find how noticeably clean Chicago is compared to the smog of Saigon, but once we were back inside walking around the airport everything seemed foreign. I guess it was my first bit of culture shock, but it was kind of uncomfortable to join crowds of Americans who all seemed so big, both taller and more overweight than most of the Vietnamese I’ve been living amongst. We were followed everywhere by the sickening smell of fast food. We thought of maybe trying to get something to eat but as soon as I saw the prices I decided to wait until I got home. I adamantly refuse to pay six dollars for a little pizza – that’s two days worth of meals in Vietnam. I don’t know what I’m going to eat when I get home either because all I really want right now is pho, fan-cakes (little dishes of rice-paper topped with meat and quail egg we had a couple of times in Saigon), or maybe spring rolls with corn! It’s a challenge to remember to say, “thank you” and “I’m sorry” because “camon” and “xin loi” have become so instinctual.
I’m still nervous about actually getting home – how will I be able to talk about all the things that have happened to me? My cousin already sent me a text simply asking, “how was Vietnam?” I haven’t responded yet simply because I have no idea how to put the answer simply. I guess I should figure out a short and sweet answer I can give to all the other people who will surely ask and won’t want to know every detail. I’ll need to keep myself in check and not talk about only Vietnam 24/7. It’s certainly the only topic of conversation that comes to mind right now. I don’t know yet if my relationships with family and friends will change or if we’ll interact differently, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough because I’m landing in Durham in less than ten minutes. Jai ai…is it really over?
Vietnam Day 64 (8/11/09)
It’s been such a long day – in fact it’s so long that it’s actually stretched over two days. No one should go this long without sleep (I’m definitely getting a little loopy by this point). This morning I opted out of gallivanting around the city in favor of packing. It was pretty tricky to fit some of my stuff in, but I managed and I was really glad I got it out of the way early – it would have been stressful to leave this much to the last minute. Lunch was pizza delivery from the unique pizza place we ordered from before (featuring such unique pies as beef with corn and barbeque chicken with pineapple). I haven’t had as much quality roommate time these past few days as I would have liked because Van Anh is in class, but we did get a chance to make one last snail run today. This time the whole group came and we went to a different place, which wasn’t as good as the original snail restaurant but it still brought back wonderful memories.
CET treated us to a fancy farewell dinner at a Vietnamese French fusion restaurant. We sat at a long table in a private room, encouraging us to be especially silly in roommate pictures we took at the table. There were six courses – the first was my favorite, a beef-vegetable mix that we scooped onto crispy rice cakes. The last dish was a hotpot, which I now consider to be the most hazardous food in the world. The waiter had Loan drop the flammable cakes into the open flame below the pot, but when the first one dropped in, the second caught fire in her hand. She flung it away and the fireball flew towards me, but fortunately landed in front of my plate and not in my lap. Miraculously Loan’s hand wasn’t burned and we went back to our calm meal together, though I couldn’t enjoy the hotpot quite as much knowing it nearly took our lives.
The Vietnamese roommates had made t-shirts that said “CET Vietnam Summer 2009”with everyone’s names on them, so we gave them gifts in return. We gave each of our roommates a framed photograph of the whole group taken at the Cham ruins. After dinner we went to the cafe that resembled a rainforest. The lights were dim and we were at a table on a balcony overlooking an indoor garden. I ordered my last cafe sua nong (made with chestnut coffee interestingly enough) so I could stay awake until the plane ride. Van Anh and I also shared a coconut filled with scoops of taro, durian, and coconut-flavored ice cream – quintessential Vietnamese flavors; I love it.
CET treated us to a fancy farewell dinner at a Vietnamese French fusion restaurant. We sat at a long table in a private room, encouraging us to be especially silly in roommate pictures we took at the table. There were six courses – the first was my favorite, a beef-vegetable mix that we scooped onto crispy rice cakes. The last dish was a hotpot, which I now consider to be the most hazardous food in the world. The waiter had Loan drop the flammable cakes into the open flame below the pot, but when the first one dropped in, the second caught fire in her hand. She flung it away and the fireball flew towards me, but fortunately landed in front of my plate and not in my lap. Miraculously Loan’s hand wasn’t burned and we went back to our calm meal together, though I couldn’t enjoy the hotpot quite as much knowing it nearly took our lives.
The Vietnamese roommates had made t-shirts that said “CET Vietnam Summer 2009”with everyone’s names on them, so we gave them gifts in return. We gave each of our roommates a framed photograph of the whole group taken at the Cham ruins. After dinner we went to the cafe that resembled a rainforest. The lights were dim and we were at a table on a balcony overlooking an indoor garden. I ordered my last cafe sua nong (made with chestnut coffee interestingly enough) so I could stay awake until the plane ride. Van Anh and I also shared a coconut filled with scoops of taro, durian, and coconut-flavored ice cream – quintessential Vietnamese flavors; I love it.
Vietnam Day 63 (8/10/09)
My breakfast this morning was a “xinh to xoai” on the go as we walked to visit a pagoda. It was a much longer walk than I’d anticipated and the weather was oppressively hot. The walk was worth it though – we saw both the best and the worst of Saigon, watching a couple take wedding photos in the park only to walk across the street and see a slew of puppies and kittens crammed into a tiny wire cage on the back of a motorbike. I’ve been taking a lot more notice of the construction around the city after coming back from Dinh Thuy. The piles of brick, sand, and stone seem so familiar and as we walked past one worker mixing cement, I fought the urge to go over and do it for him. I see these construction workers more as artisans now, cutting off just the right length of brick and smoothing the cement to perfection. I also never realized that even construction workers in the city sometimes mix cement by hand, something you don’t often see in America.
The pagoda reminded me of the Hindu temple a little in that this too was set within a compound of apartments, though this one was much bigger than the one around the Hindu temple. There wasn’t much on the ground floor apart from a gift shop selling books, incense, and the little clay figures of Buddha people place in their personal shrines. We went upstairs to go inside the pagoda but to get there, men and women have to use different staircases (men up the stairs on the left, women on the right). When we met at the top, we found there was nowhere else to go because the attendant there hurriedly dead-bolted the door and disappeared. We were dumbfounded – I don’t know if we did something wrong or if they were closing anyway and we just have bad timing, but either way it was weird. We waited for a few minutes but there was nothing more we could do so we just left.
On our way to find a cab, we came across a little ice cream parlor that was all pink inside with photos of Marilyn Monroe on the walls. They had some pretty unusual flavors, among them tamarind which I ordered. The flavor packed a punch, but it wasn’t even as strong as Kendra’s durian ice cream (which was a brilliant choice since no one except me wanted to steal any of it). We were all walked-out by this point so we took a cab to the Lunch Lady for one last visit. The soup was superb as always and rather pleasantly reminiscent of the first soup I ever had at her stand (except this one was made with seafood), oily and rich with a little spicy kick. I was quite pleased with this repeat soup since first lunch here was my favorite out of the four. The Lunch Lady gave us a broad parting smile and I walked away wishing the flavor of her soup would stay on my tongue until my next visit, whenever that may be.
We then proceeded to the Diamond Plaza movie theater to see Harry Potter 6. The ticket cost 60,000 dong ($3 US), which is the cheapest movie I’ve been to in a long time even though this is one of the most expensive theaters in Saigon. It was very clean and nice though I was surprised how small the actual showing room was. We ended up pretty close to the screen because there were so few rows (no stadium seating necessary here), but then the screen was smaller than the average American one so it all balanced out. There weren’t previews but there were hilariously cheesy Vietnamese commercials (including one for the Tropicana Twister drinks I bought so often in Ben Tre). Perhaps it was the Vietnamese subtitles or the group of people I was with but this movie-going experience was much different from any other I’ve had. Even though it wasn’t a very good movie, I managed to escape into the world of J.K. Rowling and forgot where I was in the world. Only when I walked outside did I realize I’m still in Southeast Asia and don’t have much time left here.
Remember how happy I was to be rid of Saigon Square? Turns out that was all an illusion as I was forced to go back today. Alex, Kendra, and I were all afraid our suitcases would go over the 50lb weight limit (in which case the airlines would charge us $150), so we figured the most effective solution would be to simply buy more luggage. Saigon Square wasn’t nearly as offensive now that I had a set goal in mind. I knew exactly what I wanted and how much I as willing to pay so we quickly sought out mimic Kipling duffels. I was starving by the time we finished shopping. I was too hungry to be picky about what I ate but I was aware that I only have a limited number of meals left so I still wanted to make it special. We found a nice compromise getting “com ga,” which is fast and cheap but also nostalgic because of all the times I ate it when we first got here. While we were eating, I had a moment where I felt like I’d never left, as if Ben Tre never happened. It kind of scared me because it made me think…what if I get back to the U.S. and the same thing happens – what if I forget that this whole experience in Vietnam happened. I’d like to think that’s not possible and I’ll always keep part of Vietnam with me, but who really knows until I get back.
We made one last venture to the back-packers district to walk around and look at the shops. I think I was tired of the touristy souvenirs anyway but I felt more self-conscious even looking in these stores because My had come with us. It was a little awkward because she kept mentioning how these things weren’t authentically Vietnamese (which of course we knew, but this made it even more apparent) and I knew everything must have seemed so expensive to her. It was also a strange feeling to look around and see almost all white people. It seems especially abnormal after returning from Ben Tre, where we were the only foreigners. I’m so unaccustomed understanding strangers’ conversations as they pass. Usually all the conversations around me are in Vietnamese and eventually it turns into white noise and I slip into my own thoughts. Suddenly hearing English around me is actually kind of annoying – it’s jarring not to be able to hear myself think. If I can’t even tune out a few English conversations, how am I going to tune out the chatter of every passing American in the U.S. – it could be maddening. I’ve been thinking a lot about this kind of thing lately. The past few days have been spent in total anticipation of going home, trying to make the most out of every minute here while constantly wondering what it will be like when I get back. It’s surreal to think that tomorrow’s my last day in Vietnam and after that I’ll be leaving all of this behind for who knows how long. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.
The pagoda reminded me of the Hindu temple a little in that this too was set within a compound of apartments, though this one was much bigger than the one around the Hindu temple. There wasn’t much on the ground floor apart from a gift shop selling books, incense, and the little clay figures of Buddha people place in their personal shrines. We went upstairs to go inside the pagoda but to get there, men and women have to use different staircases (men up the stairs on the left, women on the right). When we met at the top, we found there was nowhere else to go because the attendant there hurriedly dead-bolted the door and disappeared. We were dumbfounded – I don’t know if we did something wrong or if they were closing anyway and we just have bad timing, but either way it was weird. We waited for a few minutes but there was nothing more we could do so we just left.
On our way to find a cab, we came across a little ice cream parlor that was all pink inside with photos of Marilyn Monroe on the walls. They had some pretty unusual flavors, among them tamarind which I ordered. The flavor packed a punch, but it wasn’t even as strong as Kendra’s durian ice cream (which was a brilliant choice since no one except me wanted to steal any of it). We were all walked-out by this point so we took a cab to the Lunch Lady for one last visit. The soup was superb as always and rather pleasantly reminiscent of the first soup I ever had at her stand (except this one was made with seafood), oily and rich with a little spicy kick. I was quite pleased with this repeat soup since first lunch here was my favorite out of the four. The Lunch Lady gave us a broad parting smile and I walked away wishing the flavor of her soup would stay on my tongue until my next visit, whenever that may be.
We then proceeded to the Diamond Plaza movie theater to see Harry Potter 6. The ticket cost 60,000 dong ($3 US), which is the cheapest movie I’ve been to in a long time even though this is one of the most expensive theaters in Saigon. It was very clean and nice though I was surprised how small the actual showing room was. We ended up pretty close to the screen because there were so few rows (no stadium seating necessary here), but then the screen was smaller than the average American one so it all balanced out. There weren’t previews but there were hilariously cheesy Vietnamese commercials (including one for the Tropicana Twister drinks I bought so often in Ben Tre). Perhaps it was the Vietnamese subtitles or the group of people I was with but this movie-going experience was much different from any other I’ve had. Even though it wasn’t a very good movie, I managed to escape into the world of J.K. Rowling and forgot where I was in the world. Only when I walked outside did I realize I’m still in Southeast Asia and don’t have much time left here.
Remember how happy I was to be rid of Saigon Square? Turns out that was all an illusion as I was forced to go back today. Alex, Kendra, and I were all afraid our suitcases would go over the 50lb weight limit (in which case the airlines would charge us $150), so we figured the most effective solution would be to simply buy more luggage. Saigon Square wasn’t nearly as offensive now that I had a set goal in mind. I knew exactly what I wanted and how much I as willing to pay so we quickly sought out mimic Kipling duffels. I was starving by the time we finished shopping. I was too hungry to be picky about what I ate but I was aware that I only have a limited number of meals left so I still wanted to make it special. We found a nice compromise getting “com ga,” which is fast and cheap but also nostalgic because of all the times I ate it when we first got here. While we were eating, I had a moment where I felt like I’d never left, as if Ben Tre never happened. It kind of scared me because it made me think…what if I get back to the U.S. and the same thing happens – what if I forget that this whole experience in Vietnam happened. I’d like to think that’s not possible and I’ll always keep part of Vietnam with me, but who really knows until I get back.
We made one last venture to the back-packers district to walk around and look at the shops. I think I was tired of the touristy souvenirs anyway but I felt more self-conscious even looking in these stores because My had come with us. It was a little awkward because she kept mentioning how these things weren’t authentically Vietnamese (which of course we knew, but this made it even more apparent) and I knew everything must have seemed so expensive to her. It was also a strange feeling to look around and see almost all white people. It seems especially abnormal after returning from Ben Tre, where we were the only foreigners. I’m so unaccustomed understanding strangers’ conversations as they pass. Usually all the conversations around me are in Vietnamese and eventually it turns into white noise and I slip into my own thoughts. Suddenly hearing English around me is actually kind of annoying – it’s jarring not to be able to hear myself think. If I can’t even tune out a few English conversations, how am I going to tune out the chatter of every passing American in the U.S. – it could be maddening. I’ve been thinking a lot about this kind of thing lately. The past few days have been spent in total anticipation of going home, trying to make the most out of every minute here while constantly wondering what it will be like when I get back. It’s surreal to think that tomorrow’s my last day in Vietnam and after that I’ll be leaving all of this behind for who knows how long. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.
Vietnam Day 62 (8/9/09)
We went to my favorite pho place in 18 Alley for breakfast this morning. It was kind of sad that Kendra and I had to share but none of us is feeling too hot right now. I think something we ate at all those closing ceremonies in Ben Tre is screwing with our stomachs. We went to a new area of the city today where we found a combination street food market and electronic black market. The food market was like any other with little booths set up along the street selling everything from vegetables to live fish, but the electronics were in single standing shops on the next street over. They looked like pretty legitimate establishments with nice glass cases displaying iPods with huge speakers standing behind – it was interesting to think about where this stuff really comes from and what makes people come to “black market sellers.” We hadn’t entirely decided what our next stop would be so we just started walking. I like the feeling of walking around the city. It’s not exactly living like the locals, because everyone just uses motorbikes, but you still get a chance to see more of the city than the average tourist. We ended up at Saigon Square, which is my least favorite place here – it’s so cluttered and since I have no desire to buy clothes here (the main good here being cheap mimic clothing), I just get pushed and shoved by a sea of people for nothing. Leaving, I was relieved to think it was the last time I’d have to set foot in this market.
By the time we finished shopping we were all starving so we went to the nearest restaurant, the Paris Café. We sat on the patio, which had the nice relaxed ambiance of a French Bistro, with white wicker chairs and easy listening acoustic versions of such Western songs as “Moon River” and “Take Me Home Country Roads” by John Denver (how you make that into easy listening I couldn’t tell you but it cracked me up). The Paris Café is a slightly more upscale place so I went cheap, just getting potato soup (which was really creamy and not necessarily in a good way) and “xinh to xoai” (mango shake), which succeeded in making me feel a little less touristy. After walking around for a while, we went and sat by the river, watching the barges and tourist boats. Tourists can be truly hilarious sometimes. My favorite pair of the day were two women in Crocs shoes and “Saigon” t-shirts waltzing around with really poor-quality conical hats on – the funniest thing about their appearance was the fact that they’d hung their cheap ray-band sunglasses from the neon strings on their hats. They couldn’t have been more conspicuous if they tried. There was also a small group of pre-teen Vietnamese kids sitting down by the water in front of us. They looked like the type of kids who go around beating up other kids – their style was all punk and they were chilling out smoking cigarettes. Soon we found out why they were there – they were catching little fish and putting them in bags to sell (probably to pet shops). There were a couple of men around them also catching fish, but their method was to jump all the way into the water with their nets. I can only imagine how sick they get plunging into water that polluted.
I had one last shopping errand to finish up so we headed to Ben Tanh Market. While we were there, Kendra tried to buy coffee from one of the stands but we had no idea what kind to get. As we stood there deciding, the vendor came over to us to persuade us to buy the more expensive one. However, his strategy lost him the sale as he physically showed us how “some” of the blends contain little black kernels of corn mixed in with the coffee beans (almost a “fake good,” even worse than a mimic good). He kept saying he would sell us the “good quality stuff” that had been sorted, but we decided against trusting aggressive vendors and left the market. We then made a return visit to Fanny’s, the ice cream place we ate at our first week in Saigon. Ming got one of the “creations,” a funny bumblebee made out of a banana, a scoop of mango sherbet, and waffle cone wings. I went for one of the simpler options with chocolate chili ice cream, which was amazingly good.
Across the street we finally went into the Hindu temple I’ve wanted to see since we got here. It was a tiny space, just one room with an elevated altar in the center. The altar had figures of different gods surrounded by colorful electronic lights. I took a little walk, wrapping around the altar looking at framed illustrations of gods as well as portraits of famous Indian figureheads like Gandhi and Nehru. The temple was set within a complex of apartments, so as I walked around I saw kids playing in the courtyard as women prepared dinner. I was stunned to find that not all the residents of this small complex are Hindu, which I discovered when I came across a large ornate statue of the lady Buddha right next to the temple. I wonder what draws people to live here if not the temple.
My is currently trying to do as much last-minute bonding with us as possible, so she had the whole evening planned out for us. We were going to get a noodle dish at a street vendor (which she says isn’t “delicious” but is the kind of food people of all socioeconomic classes eat and she’s eager to show us all sides of Vietnam), then get more food (some kind of fresh bread), and go to a park where a lot of dance groups, both break-dance and traditional dance, go to practice at night. We decided in the end to go for only one meal (which my stomach was thankful for) and we decided on the bread dish. The bread was soft and warm, just out of the oven and was served with a very good green curry – the restaurant was cheap, but pretty impressive for a franchise. When we got to the park, there was no dancing or activity (except for a few lovers in the shadows) because it had been raining and the pavement was too wet to dance. Instead we took a casual stroll about the park. In the center was a tone monument to honor the soldier the park is named after. During the American-Vietnamese War, this soldier grabbed a torch and blew up a stash of American artillery, sacrificing himself in the process. Hieu suggested that perhaps, rather than a heroic suicide mission, this soldier was just some stupid kid who was smoking a cigarette around artillery and it just blew up – I’m not sure which version of the story is sadder. Van, Alex, and I then went to the Ben Tanh night market, where Van got a bunch of mimic polo shirts and I got a ring. We’re getting awfully good at this bargaining thing – even the Vietnamese roommates were impressed and Van Anh wants me to bargain for her when she goes shopping now.
By the time we finished shopping we were all starving so we went to the nearest restaurant, the Paris Café. We sat on the patio, which had the nice relaxed ambiance of a French Bistro, with white wicker chairs and easy listening acoustic versions of such Western songs as “Moon River” and “Take Me Home Country Roads” by John Denver (how you make that into easy listening I couldn’t tell you but it cracked me up). The Paris Café is a slightly more upscale place so I went cheap, just getting potato soup (which was really creamy and not necessarily in a good way) and “xinh to xoai” (mango shake), which succeeded in making me feel a little less touristy. After walking around for a while, we went and sat by the river, watching the barges and tourist boats. Tourists can be truly hilarious sometimes. My favorite pair of the day were two women in Crocs shoes and “Saigon” t-shirts waltzing around with really poor-quality conical hats on – the funniest thing about their appearance was the fact that they’d hung their cheap ray-band sunglasses from the neon strings on their hats. They couldn’t have been more conspicuous if they tried. There was also a small group of pre-teen Vietnamese kids sitting down by the water in front of us. They looked like the type of kids who go around beating up other kids – their style was all punk and they were chilling out smoking cigarettes. Soon we found out why they were there – they were catching little fish and putting them in bags to sell (probably to pet shops). There were a couple of men around them also catching fish, but their method was to jump all the way into the water with their nets. I can only imagine how sick they get plunging into water that polluted.
I had one last shopping errand to finish up so we headed to Ben Tanh Market. While we were there, Kendra tried to buy coffee from one of the stands but we had no idea what kind to get. As we stood there deciding, the vendor came over to us to persuade us to buy the more expensive one. However, his strategy lost him the sale as he physically showed us how “some” of the blends contain little black kernels of corn mixed in with the coffee beans (almost a “fake good,” even worse than a mimic good). He kept saying he would sell us the “good quality stuff” that had been sorted, but we decided against trusting aggressive vendors and left the market. We then made a return visit to Fanny’s, the ice cream place we ate at our first week in Saigon. Ming got one of the “creations,” a funny bumblebee made out of a banana, a scoop of mango sherbet, and waffle cone wings. I went for one of the simpler options with chocolate chili ice cream, which was amazingly good.
Across the street we finally went into the Hindu temple I’ve wanted to see since we got here. It was a tiny space, just one room with an elevated altar in the center. The altar had figures of different gods surrounded by colorful electronic lights. I took a little walk, wrapping around the altar looking at framed illustrations of gods as well as portraits of famous Indian figureheads like Gandhi and Nehru. The temple was set within a complex of apartments, so as I walked around I saw kids playing in the courtyard as women prepared dinner. I was stunned to find that not all the residents of this small complex are Hindu, which I discovered when I came across a large ornate statue of the lady Buddha right next to the temple. I wonder what draws people to live here if not the temple.
My is currently trying to do as much last-minute bonding with us as possible, so she had the whole evening planned out for us. We were going to get a noodle dish at a street vendor (which she says isn’t “delicious” but is the kind of food people of all socioeconomic classes eat and she’s eager to show us all sides of Vietnam), then get more food (some kind of fresh bread), and go to a park where a lot of dance groups, both break-dance and traditional dance, go to practice at night. We decided in the end to go for only one meal (which my stomach was thankful for) and we decided on the bread dish. The bread was soft and warm, just out of the oven and was served with a very good green curry – the restaurant was cheap, but pretty impressive for a franchise. When we got to the park, there was no dancing or activity (except for a few lovers in the shadows) because it had been raining and the pavement was too wet to dance. Instead we took a casual stroll about the park. In the center was a tone monument to honor the soldier the park is named after. During the American-Vietnamese War, this soldier grabbed a torch and blew up a stash of American artillery, sacrificing himself in the process. Hieu suggested that perhaps, rather than a heroic suicide mission, this soldier was just some stupid kid who was smoking a cigarette around artillery and it just blew up – I’m not sure which version of the story is sadder. Van, Alex, and I then went to the Ben Tanh night market, where Van got a bunch of mimic polo shirts and I got a ring. We’re getting awfully good at this bargaining thing – even the Vietnamese roommates were impressed and Van Anh wants me to bargain for her when she goes shopping now.
Vietnam Day 61 (8/8/09)
I’m so happy to be leaving this hotel. I’ve had some wonderful times in Ben Tre but very few took place in the hotel. I’m ready to make this place a memory rather than part of my every day life. My room gave me a lovely parting gift this morning as my final battle with the broken bathroom door left me with a scrape on my hand. The sendoff I did appreciate came from the group of older students who came to say goodbye. We waved to them as the bus pulled away. Leaving Ben Tre is bittersweet because it’s sad to say goodbye to all these new friends, but I am looking forward to the freedom and diversion of the city.
We’re just entering Saigon and I’m getting really excited. Outside my window are apartment buildings so high I have to crane my neck to see the clotheslines stretched across the top balcony. The familiar sound of excessive numbers of motorbike horns turn my attention back to the ground as we turn around a traffic circle alongside a motorbike carrying an entire fridge. We pass through Chinatown and then onto more familiar streets like Nguyen Thi Minh Khai, home of our beloved Citimart. Funky billboards depicting pho and models with cheesy grins are partially obstructed from view by tangled webs of power lines, which still make me fear a blowout at any moment. Back at the old guesthouse, I find that Van Anh and I are the only ones who will have had the same room the whole time. My wonderful roommate isn’t here yet because she’s still visiting relatives, but once she gets back everything will be perfect.
As soon as we got settled into our rooms a bunch of us made a laundry run down 18 Alley, followed by a trip to Citimart to find all the comforts of home (home in Saigon, that is), and then to the DVD store. This was my first time at the DVD store, but I didn’t come away with anything because it was too disorganized for me to sort through. When you walk in, a clerk sits you down on a little stool around a coffee table with stacks upon stacks of movies. Unhappy women in satin uniforms thrust a random bunch of discs into your hands and you flip through until you find one you like enough to take over to the TVs to check for quality (since all of these movies are pirated). It’s really just too much trouble for something customs could give me a hard time about and won’t even work in most DVD players in the U.S. We walked back to the guesthouse down familiar streets and it was like we’d never left. I know we just spent four weeks in Ben Tre, but I slipped back into Saigon life naturally. It’s crazy to think we’ve been in Vietnam for nine weeks. I’ve gotten so used to being here that I sometimes forget where I am in the world. When I first got here, the crazy motorbike traffic on the road next to me would have freaked me out, but now I hardly give it a cursory glance. I’m trying to make sure I don’t take anything for granted, but at the same time it’s nice to know that I can find a sense of normality in a foreign country.
For dinner we went to our usual banh mi lady who greeted us with a warm familiar smile. Sadly the cooktop she uses to make the egg was on the fritz. She spent several frustrated minutes trying to get one of the paint can-sized propane cans to lock into place, nearly singing herself during the flame-outs (there was one particular burst of fire so huge I thought it must have gotten her hand). As a result we had our sandwiches with just meat and the fixings (which was fine by me), but since Alex and Molly get theirs with egg and no meat they had to go down the street to another stand. Molly pointed out that the contrast made her realize that our banh mi lady makes the sandwiches with love – you really can taste the difference between hers and another stand that uses the same ingredients. We ate at the cafe next to the guesthouse, where we had our first cafe sua das in the city. I was shocked when I realized each coffee cost 10,000 dong, versus the 4000 we paid in Ben Tre. The caffeine buzz was certainly worth it, but this new standard of living is going to take some getting used to – I shudder to think what it’ll be like when we go back to America.
We’re just entering Saigon and I’m getting really excited. Outside my window are apartment buildings so high I have to crane my neck to see the clotheslines stretched across the top balcony. The familiar sound of excessive numbers of motorbike horns turn my attention back to the ground as we turn around a traffic circle alongside a motorbike carrying an entire fridge. We pass through Chinatown and then onto more familiar streets like Nguyen Thi Minh Khai, home of our beloved Citimart. Funky billboards depicting pho and models with cheesy grins are partially obstructed from view by tangled webs of power lines, which still make me fear a blowout at any moment. Back at the old guesthouse, I find that Van Anh and I are the only ones who will have had the same room the whole time. My wonderful roommate isn’t here yet because she’s still visiting relatives, but once she gets back everything will be perfect.
As soon as we got settled into our rooms a bunch of us made a laundry run down 18 Alley, followed by a trip to Citimart to find all the comforts of home (home in Saigon, that is), and then to the DVD store. This was my first time at the DVD store, but I didn’t come away with anything because it was too disorganized for me to sort through. When you walk in, a clerk sits you down on a little stool around a coffee table with stacks upon stacks of movies. Unhappy women in satin uniforms thrust a random bunch of discs into your hands and you flip through until you find one you like enough to take over to the TVs to check for quality (since all of these movies are pirated). It’s really just too much trouble for something customs could give me a hard time about and won’t even work in most DVD players in the U.S. We walked back to the guesthouse down familiar streets and it was like we’d never left. I know we just spent four weeks in Ben Tre, but I slipped back into Saigon life naturally. It’s crazy to think we’ve been in Vietnam for nine weeks. I’ve gotten so used to being here that I sometimes forget where I am in the world. When I first got here, the crazy motorbike traffic on the road next to me would have freaked me out, but now I hardly give it a cursory glance. I’m trying to make sure I don’t take anything for granted, but at the same time it’s nice to know that I can find a sense of normality in a foreign country.
For dinner we went to our usual banh mi lady who greeted us with a warm familiar smile. Sadly the cooktop she uses to make the egg was on the fritz. She spent several frustrated minutes trying to get one of the paint can-sized propane cans to lock into place, nearly singing herself during the flame-outs (there was one particular burst of fire so huge I thought it must have gotten her hand). As a result we had our sandwiches with just meat and the fixings (which was fine by me), but since Alex and Molly get theirs with egg and no meat they had to go down the street to another stand. Molly pointed out that the contrast made her realize that our banh mi lady makes the sandwiches with love – you really can taste the difference between hers and another stand that uses the same ingredients. We ate at the cafe next to the guesthouse, where we had our first cafe sua das in the city. I was shocked when I realized each coffee cost 10,000 dong, versus the 4000 we paid in Ben Tre. The caffeine buzz was certainly worth it, but this new standard of living is going to take some getting used to – I shudder to think what it’ll be like when we go back to America.
Vietnam Day 60 (8/7/09)
Today was our last full day in Ben Tre and what a day of food it was. We started the morning with a handover ceremony at the newly built house. The house was so much bigger than I’d ever expected. It was still only one story of course and only three rooms, but the rooms were big with a high vaulted ceiling. Before eating, there were the usual speeches of thanks, but some were more touching than at the road handover, because this project was so much more personal to the family living there. The father of the house spoke of no longer being afraid of wind or rain now that the structure was strong and the mother simply said thank you, her eyes filling with tears as she received our gift (a tea set, bowls, chopsticks, and a clock). The house owner’s brother made a less than diplomatic speech that I found surprising given people’s usual attitude towards the Vietnamese government. The family we built the house for doesn’t have a good “family history” (that is, no relative died fighting Americans during the war), so they don’t normally receive government aid. We’d hoped the People’s Committee would still agree to pay for half the project like they would have if the poor family had a good history – apparently they didn’t since this man expressed his hope that in the future all parties could work together and People’s Committee would help. It was a bold statement to make with a whole table of People’s Committee members sitting next to him. They certainly weren’t pleased, but I admired the man for his unflinching criticism.
After the speeches, the feast came out. Unlike our meal yesterday, every meal here looked delicious – there was curry with taro, lean cuts of beef and pork served with rice noodles, and spring rolls with shrimp and veggies. People kept trying to push the plate of whole prawns on us because it was the most expensive, but I was too busy stuffing my face with the other dishes already on the table. It was positively heavenly. After dinner I got a chance to get to know the family a little better. Two of the older daughters speak superb English and we talked a while about life in Vietnam from our different perspectives. The daughter I got to know the best however was the five-year-old, a gorgeous little girl with pigtails who I played peek-a-boo with for a very long time. I almost couldn’t eat because she kept hugging me from behind as I was sitting. She’s grab my chair and we ‘d rock back and forth as she giggled wildly. Honestly I don’t know how the house group got any work done with this adorable creature running around. I didn’t meet the other daughter, but I witnessed a very touching moment between her and Molly – she walked up to Molly speaking Vietnamese and suddenly her face screwed up as she started bawling, clutching Molly in a fervent embrace. The Vietnamese means of showing gratitude is to give food, but I think her tears were the best thanks I’ve seen yet.
We spent a long time on photoshoots. The whole group took pictures with the family and then the contractors from both the house and school sites went a little crazy with the camera. My usual contractor from the toilet project had shown up a bit earlier and none of us recognized him at first glance. He’d shaved, combed his hair, and was wearing a mimic-Lacoste polo (which amused me to no end). He started the camera craze with his Vogue-like pose by the window then he and all the other contractors wanted pictures with each of us individually. They made us promise repeatedly to send the photos – they don’t have much access to cameras around here so this must be something of a novelty for them. Before leaving, Kendra and I went back to see the “monkey bridge,” nothing more than two sticks no wider than my arm stretched across a creek. The owner of the house proudly claims that his is the only proper monkey bridge in Dinh Thuy because it has a bamboo rail, which was much appreciated as Kendra and I carefully crossed to the other side. Before we went across, someone from the kitchen had shouted in Vietnamese, “be careful, don’t break your heads” and I’m happy to say we made it across with no complications. We said our final goodbyes to the family and the contractor, who got particularly choked up saying to the girls that we were like sisters to him, shaking our hands and patting our faces repeatedly.
We had a couple of hours until it was time for the final closing ceremony so we decided to wait at the cafe. However, it proved to be quite a trial getting there. Hieu’s and my bikes had been gifted to the family so we didn’t exactly have enough to go around. What you must first understand is that the majority of the bikes are old and breaking down – now imagine trying to ride two people on one of these monstrosities. Firstly, I should mention that some of the boys were once again drunk on hospitality so they weren’t exactly coordinated. We played a complicated game of musical bikes, trying to double up so that the drunk people could ride on the back of the limited number of bikes (a difficult task since most of the drunk boys were bigger than the girls). After we’d finally arranged all that, we still didn’t have enough bikes so I ended up riding with Kendra. Kendra turned out to be excellent at riding with an extra person and we had a pretty functional bike so I was pretty pleased with how things turned out. Eventually we all made it safely to the coffee shop (some of us more lucid than others).
We thought we’d said our final goodbyes to the contractor, but soon after we arrived he showed up and came over to sit with us. Alyce translated as he told us again that we were like family and thanked us for coming here to help. He said he didn’t have the proper words to thank us so instead he showed his gratitude by buying us a dozen coconuts, which he had the cafe owner cut open so we could drink the coconut water. It was way too much liquid for us to handle, but he was beaming as he handed us the glasses so we drank up. As if that wasn’t enough, he then went across the street and came back with Double Mint chewing gum, a hilariously random gift – he was doing anything and everything he could think of to thank us. We felt bad that he was spending so much money on us when we have so much already, but his efforts were touching. While we were still at the cafe, we were also joined by the construction manager from the house site, who was much less endearing than my contractor from the school. This guy was actually kind of creepy (and probably still drunk). He kept staring intensely at Kendra, speaking to her as if she understood Vietnamese fluently. He then made her promise to host him in the U.S. and taught her how to say, “I love you very much and will come back to Vietnam.” At last it was time for the closing ceremony so we said a second round of final goodbyes to the contractor.
The closing ceremony was at the People’s Committee Hall, which was filled with the usual upbeat, patriotic music we’ve come to expect at government functions. There were many speeches I didn’t understand and certificates given out for who knows what. Then Alyce came over and said one of us was supposed to make the next speech. No on else was volunteering and I’d made a spur of the moment speech in the beginning so I figured I might as well do this one too. I thanked them for welcoming us and making us part of the family, then said we hoped we’d made as much of a difference in their lives as they have in ours, closing with “we will remember you all with the fondest memories, camon.” It was a speech that should have been given to the kids and locals who worked with on our projects, but the People’s Committee seemed to enjoy it just fine in their place. At the bottom of the steps outside we saw the contractor again, really for the last time – he’d just come by to give us coconut candy, because the coconuts and gum weren’t enough already (we’d tried to convince him earlier not to buy the candy, using the excuse that we couldn’t get it through customs, but I guess he didn’t believe us after all). After the ceremony was finished, the People’s Committee invited us next door for yet more food. This turned out to be another full meal, in which I once again ate mostly curry.
We set off on our last bike ride from Dinh Thuy to MoCay. We slowed down to look at the sights one last time, watching the little river boats drift down the peaceful river with the setting sun reflecting off the water. We were still stuffed when we got back so we pushed dinner to eight. We appropriately ended the day with a lot of food: fries and fried rice for dinner followed by an exorbitant amount of grapefruit, sweetsoup, water coconut, and durian flavored coconut candy for dessert. It’s funny, when I first came to Vietnam I was losing weight, but I have no doubt today alone will send me home heavier than when I left.
After the speeches, the feast came out. Unlike our meal yesterday, every meal here looked delicious – there was curry with taro, lean cuts of beef and pork served with rice noodles, and spring rolls with shrimp and veggies. People kept trying to push the plate of whole prawns on us because it was the most expensive, but I was too busy stuffing my face with the other dishes already on the table. It was positively heavenly. After dinner I got a chance to get to know the family a little better. Two of the older daughters speak superb English and we talked a while about life in Vietnam from our different perspectives. The daughter I got to know the best however was the five-year-old, a gorgeous little girl with pigtails who I played peek-a-boo with for a very long time. I almost couldn’t eat because she kept hugging me from behind as I was sitting. She’s grab my chair and we ‘d rock back and forth as she giggled wildly. Honestly I don’t know how the house group got any work done with this adorable creature running around. I didn’t meet the other daughter, but I witnessed a very touching moment between her and Molly – she walked up to Molly speaking Vietnamese and suddenly her face screwed up as she started bawling, clutching Molly in a fervent embrace. The Vietnamese means of showing gratitude is to give food, but I think her tears were the best thanks I’ve seen yet.
We spent a long time on photoshoots. The whole group took pictures with the family and then the contractors from both the house and school sites went a little crazy with the camera. My usual contractor from the toilet project had shown up a bit earlier and none of us recognized him at first glance. He’d shaved, combed his hair, and was wearing a mimic-Lacoste polo (which amused me to no end). He started the camera craze with his Vogue-like pose by the window then he and all the other contractors wanted pictures with each of us individually. They made us promise repeatedly to send the photos – they don’t have much access to cameras around here so this must be something of a novelty for them. Before leaving, Kendra and I went back to see the “monkey bridge,” nothing more than two sticks no wider than my arm stretched across a creek. The owner of the house proudly claims that his is the only proper monkey bridge in Dinh Thuy because it has a bamboo rail, which was much appreciated as Kendra and I carefully crossed to the other side. Before we went across, someone from the kitchen had shouted in Vietnamese, “be careful, don’t break your heads” and I’m happy to say we made it across with no complications. We said our final goodbyes to the family and the contractor, who got particularly choked up saying to the girls that we were like sisters to him, shaking our hands and patting our faces repeatedly.
We had a couple of hours until it was time for the final closing ceremony so we decided to wait at the cafe. However, it proved to be quite a trial getting there. Hieu’s and my bikes had been gifted to the family so we didn’t exactly have enough to go around. What you must first understand is that the majority of the bikes are old and breaking down – now imagine trying to ride two people on one of these monstrosities. Firstly, I should mention that some of the boys were once again drunk on hospitality so they weren’t exactly coordinated. We played a complicated game of musical bikes, trying to double up so that the drunk people could ride on the back of the limited number of bikes (a difficult task since most of the drunk boys were bigger than the girls). After we’d finally arranged all that, we still didn’t have enough bikes so I ended up riding with Kendra. Kendra turned out to be excellent at riding with an extra person and we had a pretty functional bike so I was pretty pleased with how things turned out. Eventually we all made it safely to the coffee shop (some of us more lucid than others).
We thought we’d said our final goodbyes to the contractor, but soon after we arrived he showed up and came over to sit with us. Alyce translated as he told us again that we were like family and thanked us for coming here to help. He said he didn’t have the proper words to thank us so instead he showed his gratitude by buying us a dozen coconuts, which he had the cafe owner cut open so we could drink the coconut water. It was way too much liquid for us to handle, but he was beaming as he handed us the glasses so we drank up. As if that wasn’t enough, he then went across the street and came back with Double Mint chewing gum, a hilariously random gift – he was doing anything and everything he could think of to thank us. We felt bad that he was spending so much money on us when we have so much already, but his efforts were touching. While we were still at the cafe, we were also joined by the construction manager from the house site, who was much less endearing than my contractor from the school. This guy was actually kind of creepy (and probably still drunk). He kept staring intensely at Kendra, speaking to her as if she understood Vietnamese fluently. He then made her promise to host him in the U.S. and taught her how to say, “I love you very much and will come back to Vietnam.” At last it was time for the closing ceremony so we said a second round of final goodbyes to the contractor.
The closing ceremony was at the People’s Committee Hall, which was filled with the usual upbeat, patriotic music we’ve come to expect at government functions. There were many speeches I didn’t understand and certificates given out for who knows what. Then Alyce came over and said one of us was supposed to make the next speech. No on else was volunteering and I’d made a spur of the moment speech in the beginning so I figured I might as well do this one too. I thanked them for welcoming us and making us part of the family, then said we hoped we’d made as much of a difference in their lives as they have in ours, closing with “we will remember you all with the fondest memories, camon.” It was a speech that should have been given to the kids and locals who worked with on our projects, but the People’s Committee seemed to enjoy it just fine in their place. At the bottom of the steps outside we saw the contractor again, really for the last time – he’d just come by to give us coconut candy, because the coconuts and gum weren’t enough already (we’d tried to convince him earlier not to buy the candy, using the excuse that we couldn’t get it through customs, but I guess he didn’t believe us after all). After the ceremony was finished, the People’s Committee invited us next door for yet more food. This turned out to be another full meal, in which I once again ate mostly curry.
We set off on our last bike ride from Dinh Thuy to MoCay. We slowed down to look at the sights one last time, watching the little river boats drift down the peaceful river with the setting sun reflecting off the water. We were still stuffed when we got back so we pushed dinner to eight. We appropriately ended the day with a lot of food: fries and fried rice for dinner followed by an exorbitant amount of grapefruit, sweetsoup, water coconut, and durian flavored coconut candy for dessert. It’s funny, when I first came to Vietnam I was losing weight, but I have no doubt today alone will send me home heavier than when I left.
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