Eyes Wide Open

We've got a few days left until our much-anticipated return to America. Anticipate is a funny word, now that I think about it - what's the connotation? In this case, it fits perfectly because I've never felt so ambiguous about going home. I'm already thinking about where I'm gonna stay next year (District 1) and which countries I'm going to visit before and after Vietnam (Indonesia and the Philippines... maybe China for a little bit). It's hard thinking about traffic that doesn't mirror a whirlwind, or food that doesn't come in pre-sliced portions. Hmm... maybe I should get a massage. In a week, I won't be having those thoughts, and it's tough. But for the time being, while I've still got sand left in this hourglass, I'm gonna get down a few more thoughts, and you're gonna read 'em.

One of my favorite sights is that of parents playing with their kids. It's one of those rare phenomena you can't read about in a Polisci textbook or hear about on the news. It's a beautiful sight. A few weeks ago, I saw a father playing badminton with 2 of his kids around 3 PM on a workday. It warmed my heart and made me yearn for my forthcoming reunion with my dad. One of the many evocations I've experienced while being here. This morning, I saw a mom sitting on a bench at the park outside Diamond, playing with him and smiling as she said something deeply encouraging. What it was, who knows? But it made me remember all the times my mom took me into her grasp and said something deeply encouraging at just the right moment, knowing precisely how to improve her son's disposition. Beacons of light abound.

Thanh and I wondered over to District 7, an enclave within a city known for its ethereal beauty. An enclave of colonialist elegance, marked by modern speculative growth. Apartments abound as sprawl ensues, crawling into each parcel of land and reinforcing a consumer culture built by capitalization. This is where the masters of the universe live. It's literally a land unto itself, isolated from the hustle and bustle of Saigon and devoid of any remnants of its Communist past. It's Beverly Hills in Vietnam. I can't say it's disgusting because it isn't, and if I've learned one thing about businessmen, it's that they are making the lives of average Vietnamese better, so why resent them? Why resent them for living lives of luxury? They're comped by a government that values their presence, so why not take advantage of it?

I'm gonna miss learning outside the classroom. They say everything you learn in college is on the street, but it's only during this trip that I've felt that to be true. I go outside and use phrases I picked up that morning, negotiating with bartenders, hailing taxis, and ordering lunch. Granted, I'm nowhere near the level I'd like to be, but I'm moving in that direction. When I wrote my application essay to get into this program, I saw the word immersion and tried to use it as often as possible, figuring it's something I'd automatically like. After all, who wouldn't want to be immersed? But when I arrived in Vietnam and actually found myself "immersed", I started to wonder what I was doing at all. Immersion sounds a lot better when you're applying to a program, I said to myself. Because now I'm stuck in a place where people speak in monosyllabic nothingness about concepts I can't understand nor do I want to. But 2 months later, here I am, lamenting the fact that I won't be exposed to all this in a few days. It's hard to imagine learning Vietnamese in circumstances any different than these; I'm literally in the perfect environment. I love going outside and talking to strangers, and that's something I just can't do in America. I love when I say something to someone and they start laughing and repeat it to all their friends standing around, only to look back at me, repeat it, and say "Gioi qua!" I'll be back next year, and the year after, and as long as people continue to believe in what I'm doing as see me as being worthy of their sponsorship. I'll be here, and I'll be immersed.