Man, it's only been a day or two, but I feel like my family and I have done so much since returning to Vietnam.
Mom woke us up in the morning, claiming it was 8 and that we were long overdue for breakfast! In reality, it was 6:30, but that lying witch wanted us to get up early! :) Well, it was alright; I was already awake at the time and for an hour, I was listening to the sound of busyness that was just outside my window. The roar of motorcycles cruising by and the honks of impatient vehicle drivers as they tried to navigate through a busy narrow alley in the morning had rudely awoken me
(I recorded the sound of the streets for you to hear, but it won't upload...check back later)
It felt...glorious to wake up and walk out into the sunbathed front porch of my mom's childhood home. With the light streaming through the leaves of towering coconut trees and the aroma of authentic food from street vendors, I felt so alive--even though it was still so early.
We had fresh eggs and warm loaves of bread and cups of strong Vietnamese coffee. After, instead of the 'typical' milk and orange juice drinks, we picked some coconuts off our tree and drank from them. My mom, craving pieces of her childhood memory, bought a bowl of bún sợi to for about 18,000 dong--less than a dollar! Now we're going to have some for tomorrow's breakfast.
The reason for waking up so early: my dad wanted to visit the grave site of his mother--my grandmother--who passed away last year. He was there to see her burial, but wanted to bring the family back to pay respects. We took a taxi from Nha Trang to the rural side of the town. It's astonishing; taxi drivers are so talented because they don't use addresses as their destinations--they just need a certain landmark. For example, my mom's house does not have an exact address, but the driver found it by the distinct coconut tree that's just outside the house.
My parents' memories are astounding! After ten years and ever-changing scenery, they are still able to find my relatives' homes spread around town. We dropped by a cafe owned by my dad's distant cousins and chatted for awhile. They ask the typical things--where's the oldest son? How's Dan doing? It's the typical Vietnamese thing to ask, as the oldest of the family, and especially if the oldest is male, is considered the most important. Then they are just so shocked to see my sister, and they spend the rest of the time remarking that she's 'so tall' for a Vietnamese girl. Next, they'd ask about Elizabeth and--that poor girl--has to just sit around and smile as something like Gibberish flows through one ear and out the other! Before they can even get to me, it's time to go! Luckily for me though, because I'm really getting tired of saying: "Yes, I am a sophomore in college...no, not in high school...yep, I know I still look like I'm 15...majoring in journalism, uh huh, yes I can speak and understand Vietnamese...what language have I been speaking for the last fucking 20 minutes?"
( The last bit I usually keep to myself.)
Yet, custom says I must be nice about everything, so I just nod and smile.
To get to my grandma's burial site we had to venture through the woods, past vast rice fields, dodge bushes full of torn and find the area for tombstones nestled at the foot of rocky hills.
When we arrived, I saw something that was familiar, yet not. Since arriving in Vietnam, Elizabeth has been noting a lot of swastika-like signs on numerous buildings. That puzzled me because I don't think Germany had ever touched the country; so, I did a bit of research and found that the swastika here is not a nod to the anti-Semitic behavior of the Nazis. Here is the symbol used during the German regime:
The ones we have been seeing look like this:
This is the symbol seen in religions like Hinduism and Buddhism and generally means something close to peace. I've seen this on many temples and tombstones. It's just sad that the Nazis had to use a symbol so close to something has the opposite meaning...
For the rest of the day, we literally walked around everywhere and stopped by so many people's houses that some faces are beginning to blur in my mind. We had all types of fruits and food offered by our awesome hosts, so it wasn't like we were suffering, but we still had jetlag. Right now my eyes are drooping, and my thoughts are being incoherent, so I'll just post these pictures, then I'll sign off :)
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| On our way to the grave site. Rice fields that stretch across the land |
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| Dad paying his respects... |
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| Cutting into a fresh Durian...smelly... |
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| Fresh peppers from backyard |
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| One of our relatives' houses. |
