It was a tiring journey from Hartford, Conn. to Chicago to Tokyo, but I felt like the last bit of the trip (from Tokyo to Vietnam) was excruciatingly so. We took a van from Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) to Nha Trang, so the time in general was eight hours. When we landed, we met the heat--the familiar, smothering and sweaty temperature of Vietnam. We were the ones dying while the natives acted like the weather was 50 degrees! And once again, as expected, I felt surrounded by the familiar and the foreign. The language--mixes of beautiful tones and dialects--sounded like home, but then I saw the faces of people who were speaking it, and I was instantly brought back to reality. I knew that if I talked, I would be recognized as a foreigner. People can sense it; even if you speak the language, doesn't mean you are a native, exactly. I felt like I didn't belong then. I know I have to get over this invisible barrier if I wish to truly embrace my family's culture and--most resolutely--my culture.
(At this point of the trip, I was writing down my thoughts in a notebook)
Right now, we are on the roads. I wouldn't exactly say highways because the ones in America seem isolated so that all you can really see are trees and highway signs. The 'highways' here are consider main roads that connect one small town to larger cities. We started the ride at midnight in Vietnam time and at this point had just passed five hours. Even at one in the morning people were out and about, braving the dark in order to earn some money selling fruit and a hodgepodge of items. We had stopped at a fruit market, and it was disgustingly dirty; the floor was littered with scraps of previous fruits and the air reeked of urine--maybe because of the open bathrooms nearby.
It wasn't the exact environment that I thought Elizabeth would be exposed to first, but she seemed fine after she had a taste of the fruits being sold! Everything was so delicious. The three of us were trying to decide how to explain the taste of fruits like mangosteen, but we couldn't compare it to anything else. That's another struggle of this blog for me because I want whatever readers to be able to understand the things we see!
Our driver is the older brother of one of our family friends and he drives like a maniac--but in a good way (?) He's fast with his driving, but still careful not to hit other cars or pedestrians. Every time we pass a motorcycle, he'd honk to let them know.
I couldn't sleep at all because I was too mystified by the culture of Vietnam that is apparent even at night. I remember sitting in my corner of the car, glancing at my mom's face as she tries to recognize a bit of land here and there, but she can't. So much has changed. I was constantly hit with a sense of anxiousness. Sometimes, we'd pass by small villages that are just so poor and in those moments, I feel lucky with the circumstances that my family lives in. Some of the schools we saw were shambles of what they used to be. Extravagant homes would be seen, but its grandeur decor completely overshadowed by the abundance of shacks that sit in front.
Sun rising soon... |
The landscape of Vietnam is evidently diverse and beautiful. I never realized it before. One moment, you can see vast green spaces of blooming rice fields and water that is the deepest blue you've ever seen. The next, you can see a desert with cacti and strangely beautiful but out-of-place flowers. Coconut trees, banana trees and dragon fruit trees are not absent, let me tell you.
Coconut trees! |
Marking the country's move for industrialization, many green landscapes are being turned into commercial properties, like salt factories and automobile dealerships. I spotted a few windmills, but only one seemed to be turning. Rice fields are getting destroyed, so that upscale resorts can be put into place.
Cool things: Coconut trees are as tall as three-story buildings. Random 'resting' places where people can literally stop and chill in a hammock hanging between two coconut trees. Cheap but delicious food; my mom bought pounds of mangosteen and the total was equivalent to less than a US dollar. To buy it in the US, it's like ten dollars per pound.
Not-so-cool things: Bathrooms are disgusting, so I'm worried about the sanitary conditions. Should I embrace the conditions in order to accept the culture? I don't know if my immune system and gag reflexes can take it. Roads are horrendous; traffic is perilous. As I am writing this, the van had just regained balance after almost falling over; the driver successfully avoided a large truck whose driver seems to be completely blind...
(We have arrived in Nha Trang, but I will post more about the house soon)
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