My favorite place in Vietnam

It’s my last day in the countryside. To simply say that I will miss the life that I have become accustomed to here doesn’t capture the attachment I have developed for this place over this three month period. I have written a lot about my love for the countryside on this blog not realizing that once I leave this place, the very things I wrote about—the slower life, tranquility, fresh air, beautiful scenery— would act as a sort of emotional tether, holding me back from leaving.

I fell in love with this place 11 years ago, when I first visited Vietnam. Every good memory I have of Vietnam from back then is of the fun I had at this place, at my grandma’s home in My Tho.
I remember my first trip here, when roads to get to my grandma’s house had not yet been developed and the rain made the long walk to her house a muddy, slippery mess. That memory of my mom’s side of the family falling in the mud, into the pond, all over each other on my first trek here is still my absolute favorite memory of Vietnam. That joy of being part of a big family that I was denied of experiencing for so long (my family was the only family in the US at that time), trampling in the mud together, falling down and laughing together to make the long walk to my grandma’s house—this is the memory that brought me back to Vietnam. I wanted to recreate and again, feel that sense of joy and comfort of family that has stayed with me for all these years.

Of course, things change. My Tho is not as how I remembered it. It is more developed, there is less open space, less rice fields to play in, and no more muddy treks to my grandma’s family. Along with that, that sense of family that became so ingrained in my memories is not as strong as it once was. Everyone has their own lives to deal with now. My city cousins are older and they aren’t quite as interested in country adventures as I am. But even then, despite all these changes that I thought would diminish my love for this place…my attachment to the countryside has not only remained, it has grown.

Because, the country life I have experienced during my time here has been more of an inner experience. Maybe it is a matter of age because when you’re younger, your sense of self is shaped by the people around you and your interactions with them. When you’re older, you have a better sense of who you are and at least in my experience, are more likely to draw inwards (through self-reflection) to define your sense of self.

The tranquility of life here, limited distractions, and thousands of miles away from my worries that lay waiting for me back home has allowed me to rest after a hectic end-of-college experience and given me a sense of inner calm I haven’t felt for so long. I take this inner calm with me as I explore the area with my cousin Chanh, noticing small details about the natural landscape, like all the different colors the sky changes around sunset, making the rice fields glow a different hue of green every passing minute. Or, the morning haze that floats over the entire area around 5am, leaving dew to sit on grass blades.
It is the lifestyle here that I love most. To say that it is simple is to reduce the complexity of the people here and the hardships they face, but life here is not as complicated by the trivial problems faced in the city. People here have their land, their day’s work, and their family to take care of. They don’t care (as much) for the trivial and material items that city people feel is necessary to keep up appearances, like brand-name clothes, or eating out at fancy/trendy restaurants, or the sleekest motorbike. People here are poorer. They know this and do their hard work with pride. I respect those men and women I pass by every day on my afternoon runs, crouching over in the hot sun to tend over their crops. They are tending over the same land my grandma tended, the same land that once belonged to my great-grandparents.

Having mentioned that, it has been an interesting discovery finding out that a large portion of the land I skim my eyes over every day once belonged to my great-grandparents, that the dirt path I run along is the same road my grandma painstakingly walked along to carry 200 pounds of rice wheat to find money to feed her 7 children as a single parent.

My family history on my mom’s side runs deep on this land. This discovery has been a matter of pride every time I look outside, at the yellow-green of fields of rice wheat in front of me. My ancestors owned this land, their sweat and blood once trickled and permeated into the fields here. Family history has only bound me closer to this place.

But, I’m leaving in a matter of days. I’m leaving the only place in Vietnam that has given me the closest feeling of home outside of the Bay Area. I’m leaving the place of my childhood memories. I’m leaving behind tranquility, vast open space, morning runs along a backdrop of purplish-gray skies, 5am badminton matches with country kids at the local schoolyard, the croaking of insects at night, dragon-fly hunting with my cousin, afternoons spent listening to the changing of the winds….

I’ll miss it all. I don’t know where this inner calm will go once I leave this place. Maybe it will remain, having ingrained itself into my mind after three months of carefree days spent sipping coconut juice, while lazily swinging on a hammock. I’m not sure quite sure. I just know that my nostalgia for this place will remain. This is the Vietnam I love and care about the most.

Country amusements

Amusing oneself in the countryside requires an adventurous nature, a lot of imagination, and an openness to dirt. Sure, country life doesn't carry the same amusements as in the city--there are no clubs, good restaurants, or any sort of boisterousness that often defines a youth well spent--but, kids here do know how to entertain themselves. They make use of the wide open space of the natural environment and make their own fun.

Dressed in clothing to cover myself from mosquito bites and equipped with my camera, I went on a country adventure with my cousin and his friend to learn a little about making the most fun out of my surroundings.

The crux of our adventure began as a hunt for grasshoppers. Here, my cousin and his friend (in the green shirt) are searching for those green buggers in the long grass stalks that line the rice fields. (My cousin's friend, I just found out, is also a relative of mine. Such a country scenario to find out that a stranger you just met also shares some familial connection to you. )

Luckily, grasshoppers are in abundance in these parts and we were able to catch a few.
While busily trying to document the capture of these guys, my green-shirted, distant relative caught a small crab in the rice fields. These crabs used to be plentiful, but over-catching has made them somewhat rare now.

What really amazes me about country kids is how much they know about their natural environment. I mean, we grow up around trees and all sorts of botany back home, but it's not as if we know their name, how they grow, or unique qualities about these plants. But here, they know every plant name, its use, and even more, how to have fun with these plants. My cousin was pointing out all sorts of plants and teaching me interesting tidbits about them....like these plants that when touched, close up.

In the video, my cousin tells me that they are called "shy plants" in Vietnamese. (Also, if you hear a lady's voice in the background, it is the provincial radio that is turned on every single day at 5 am and 5 pm. Now, that's how brainwashing works)

These plants, when dry, can function as exploding poppers when thrown in the water.

I learned that if you eat the young leaves from tamirind trees, you can sort of taste that unique soury/sweetness of a tamirind fruit.
This little trick was my favorite. A flower transformed into a pretty lantern.

Voila!

On our little adventure, I saw this poor little chicken with a twisted foot. Every time it took a step, it let out this pitiful, little cry. Poor little guy. It was really hard to watch.
The country might not offer the same excitements as the city, but really, who needs that when you can have a country adventure against this backdrop with the sound of the wind sweeping through the rice fields.

Learning how to ride a motorbike

Taught by my awesome uncle in the backroads of the countryside. SO much fun. It was hard getting the hang of it at first. My uncle told me to ride it like a bike and to be steady with the gas (which, if you've ever driven in a car with me, is a difficult task). My poor uncle was running along with me, making sure that I wouldn't fall or drive his motorbike into the rice fields. After a few tries and close stumbles, I think I finally got it. My uncle told me that after a few more lessons, I should be ready to ride by myself!

The Slower Life

I’m prolonging my stay in the countryside. Even though life here isn’t as exciting as in Saigon, I’ve become comfortable in My Tho. Every day, I wake up around 4 am to the sound of roosters crowing. You can hear all the roosters in the area crowing at that time and while at first I found it a charming a reminder that I am far away from home, it has become a nuisance in a way that familiarity can get under your skin. At 5am, the provincial radio blares “news” (ahem, ahem) from large speakers so loud that falling back to sleep is not an option. By that time, everyone is awake and you can hear farmers and motorbikes all getting ready for the day’s work. I usually go on my morning run with my cousin at this time, on dirt paths that take me along the rice fields and where I can see the haze of the morning sun reflect off of the water from the rice fields. After, I have a big breakfast—hot soymilk (freshly made, of course) and a bowl of noodles, finished off with coconut juice drunk straight from a coconut. I spend the rest of my day exploring the area, either going into the city center of My Tho or taking walks around the back roads of the country. Once it gets too hot (from 1 to 4pm), I come back to lounge around to read, write, and eat fresh fruit (mostly eat). Around 5ish, the provincial radio blares once again and I go on another run against a backdrop of orangey redness of the setting sun. My day usually ends around 8, when I retreat to bed like an old person.

It’s certainly a stark contrast from my life in Berkeley. There, I didn’t have the time to lounge all day or even read for pleasure, something I love to do but haven’t done in so long that I can’t even remember the last non-school related book I’ve read. I usually slept really late—the last two weeks of school at 5 am—and depending on the amount of work I had, I wouldn’t even sleep at all. Of course, I don’t miss that at all. I remember those stressful nights, so resentful at all the work and myself for having no time to appreciate the last days of my college life. But now that I’m in Vietnam, I have all the time I want and more. There are moments in the day when I do feel a bit restless, but for the most part, I’ve come to embrace this ‘slower’ life. It’s been a good lesson for me. I have the tendency to walk too fast, eat too fast, to do everything fast. Maybe that’s why I’m such a mess sometimes because I always do everything as if I’m in a rush when there really is no need to rush at all. I find myself noticing things more, taking in the details of my surroundings than I did before. Having time to write, to read, to talk to my family—it was all really needed to feel content but was too busy to recognize. Now that I have it, I don’t want to let it go, in fear that I will lose this sense of calm I have developed during my stay here. Hopefully, I am able to maintain this state of mind once I leave for Saigon in a few days.

My Tho by motorcycle

Riding on my aunt's motorbike, through the main road of My Tho. This would only be safe to do in the countryside, where you don't have to worry about someone zooming by to snatch your camera.

Scenes from the countryside

Taken in the countryside of My Tho, where I'm staying for my first week here. This is my family's central base, on the same land that belonged to my great-grandparents. It is a gorgeous area, surrounded by rice paddies and lush jungle life. I can easily walk into our backyard and get fresh guava, coconut, jackfruit, and lychee, all of which would be pretty pricey in the States. I've been spending my day exploring the area with my cousin Chanh, taking pictures, and just enjoying the stillness of country life. These are just some of the scenery/moments I've fallen in love with.

It's Schooltime!

My aunt is a 9th grade teacher at a school in My Tho, a city in a rural province south of Saigon. She took me along for their last day of school, where I was able to witness her interact with her students and sit in on parent-teacher conferences. It was really interesting to see how Vietnamese schools operate and the stark contrasts from the American public school system.

First of all, we arrived there at 6:30 am (!!).The students were already there and my aunt had them all line up, where she then read individual student’s end of the year score out loud, in front of everyone else. The kids didn’t seem bothered by this at all, which for me would be horrifying no matter what grade I received. Then, my aunt ordered them to pick weeds from the schoolyard. And they all did it! It was so bizarre seeing them all crouched over, picking grass, whereas at American public schools, teachers have a hard time just getting students to open their textbooks.

After this child labor, my aunt met up with their parents. Unlike most American teachers, she gave these parents the straight talk about their kids…in front of other parents. “Your son isn’t capable and he will not make it. Put him in vocational school.” “No matter how much your daughter tries now, she won’t get into that school. It is best if she goes to a second tier school.” It was all very blunt and kind of hard for me to listen to. The parents, however, were very receptive to this kind of talk because in Vietnam, the teacher is highly respected and always right. I’m sure all my aunt’s points were true, but as an American student from a generation that was constantly told we were all special and capable of anything we wanted to be (no matter if that was true or not), I was taken aback by all of this.

The unfortunate thing I learned is that because this is a rural province, a portion of these students are poor and their parents illiterate. These students face challenges that put them at a greater disadvantage to succeeding than their peers, in an already disadvantaged region. Not being able to pay school fees, extra tutoring, or even having enough to eat can really deter these students from succeeding. Fortunately, despite my aunt’s bluntness, she cares for her students in and out of school and really tries her best to see her students succeed and to look after their well-being.

In all (and despite the last point), I had a fun time at the school. I got to see all the kids were dressed up in their uniforms, teasing each other, just enjoying their last day before they were off to different schools for the next school year.