Impressions (written a few days ago)

As I sit here typing this, the air conditioning is softly whirring in my hotel room and the heady scent of incense from the incense coil that Sonny so kindly shared fills my head with memories of temples, heat and the ever present small Buddhist shrines that lined the streets last night on my bike ride home.

I've avoided writing anything that matters this trip-- matters in terms of personal thoughts, feelings, impressions for various reasons. It was too hot, I was too tired, my thoughts were too jumbled. In the end, I think that what I was really avoiding was myself.

Why did I come to Viet Nam? Purportedly, it was to learn about Viet Nam history and travel writing and to participate in an oral history project. But this may have just been me kidding myself, hiding the truth under my hands as my fingers struggled to keep it all inside. What I really came here for was to find out about my family -- about this tropical country that my parents grew up in, about the ways they did or didn't have enough growing up, about how Viet Nam has changed since the stories my parents told me of. It has been confusing, contrary and muddled, but above all so inexplicably insightful and wonderful. I feel like I've lived my life with my eyes only partially open and my heart is ready to burst.

Through all of this overwhelming feeling-- this tangle of family and history, of pride and loss, love and nostalgia, there is this:

The sound of honking fading away as Januar cycled us through the evening streets of Hue after a lovely dinner. The feel of the cool night air on my legs, the brush of tendrils of my hair blown into my face, the soft glow of street lights and the murmur of voices of people still sitting on stoops and street corners.

It was so lovely then and I forgot all of the things I am meant to remember-- but perhaps this is how it is meant to be. Amanda says that she feels much calmer here, much slower, and I am starting to believe that there is an indolence that lingers in the air and settles on our moist skin, sinking into our bloodstream. It is something that reminds us to take things slowly, to grasp this intoxicating country that we are visiting and welcome it all in, arms wide open. I finally feel ready.