January 5, 2017
As the holiday season comes to a close and the chaos of celebration comes to an end, the monotony of living in a quiet town begins. I’m not insisting that I am upset to be home, but it is definitely a shock. However, it gives me time to reflect on the last weeks of Vietnam.
My final weekend in Hanoi consisted of going to all of the places I should have visited in the first few days: the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, the Ho Chi Minh Museum, and the Hanoi Hilton. I could sit here and write about each of them, but the weight of my words does not compare to the power of being there.
Let me just say one thing. These monuments and museums are interesting and important to go to, especially as an American. They put Vietnam in a completely different light than it is in America, and that’s pretty difficult to understand. So you must go in there with an open mind, but it is also important to be critical. Be critical of both the Americans, the French, and the Vietnamese, because none of us were doing great things during the 1900s.
That sunday night, I had a final meal with Mr. Phong. Mai and I met at his house where he took us to a local restaurant where, as all vietnamese elders do, he fed us endless amounts of food, and just as we thought we were finished, we would be served more. Being fed by older Vietnamese men and women is the equivalent to mental warfare. I blame them for coming home nervous i wouldn’'t fit into my winter clothes.
After, we returned to his home, to say our final words to each other. Since we met, he has been pushing me to help donate money to the agent orange victims, which I promised him I would do eventually. After that, he explained to Mai that he wanted to exchange coats with me. I had no idea what this meant. Mai told me that in older vietnamese cultures, you switch coats to show your strong bond you have created with someone. However, I am not sure if he really meant it, considering Mr. Phong and I are about half a foot and probably many pounds different in height and weight. He laughed when Mai and I were discussing switching coats. He then got up and left the room, coming back with a ceramic plate with a photo of the North Vietnamese general on it. He said that instead of switching coats, he would give me this plate to take home to remember both him and the experiences I have gained from meeting him and visiting Vietnam. He hopes that I will return home and teach my country about Vietnam.
I left Mr. Phong’s home grateful but a little bit stressed. What was I to give him that held the weight that this ceramic plate had? I owned nothing in Vietnam that could hold a flame to what he gave me. My only choice was to have my sister Julianne, bring something the following week when she visited. But I had to act fast.
What I had her bring was something very important. I contacted my Uncle Paul to see if he had any photos (something like Mr. Phong gave me) of him while he was over here during the war. I thought that would be much more profound than any of my possessions. Especially because Mr. Phong had never met an American Soldier before. When my sister came, I mailed the series of three photos of my uncle to Mr. Phong, along with a message my uncle wrote (he is impressively fluent in Vietnamese). I have not heard from Mr. Phong since, but I am sure he found these photos and Paul’s message significant and important to the relationship he wants to build with America.
The next day, we flew home to Ho Chi Minh City, where we met up with the rest of our group, and our final presentations began. Unfortunately, my presentation was the last one in the entire group, so I am sure everyone was more interested in the fact that the long and tedious two days of final presentations were over than what I had to say. Nevertheless, I was e
xcited to share my research and findings of my internship.
While I had wished that I could share my experiences with Mr. Phong for the 30 minutes I was given, I had to present my internship experience instead. I thought I would not have a lot to say about my internship, but once I started talking, the information just kind of flowed out of me. Turns out I know a lot more about migration and tobacco policy than I thought! The 30 minutes flew by and before I knew it, our program was finished. School was done and there was nothing left to do but enjoy my final days in Vietnam, where my family was to visit me!
Julianne met me in Ho Chi Minh City, where we traveled to Phu Quoc to relax on the beach with my parents for a few days. There is not much to be said about that, because our days were mostly spent eating, sleeping, and relaxing. I was grateful to have a few days to relax in Vietnam where no schoolwork was looming over me.
After a few days in Phu Quoc, my family and I returned to Ho Chi Minh City, where I could show them the city that is now so deeply embedded in my heart. My family was floored by the traffic in Vietnam, so coming to Ho Chi Minh City was even more shocking than Hanoi. It occurred to me how normal it had become when we were in a car driving through the city from the airport. My parents and sister were so nervous we were going to get into an accident, taking videos, and just in awe at the traffic, but for me, I had not even noticed. It really spoke to how part of the culture and the city I had become.
I am going to stop this post right now, because I need to explain one of the most important things that I learned from being an American in Vietnam. And it’s powerful, and sad, and difficult. This post has become a little too long to explain, and I want your full attention when I explain the hardest and most important part of being in this country.