Viet Nam - Take II

When I left Viet Nam in June, I made sure to have dinner one last time at all my favorite places, I had two tailors making 10 different outfits because I'd never be able to have clothes made so cheaply, I walked through the streets soaking up sights, sounds and smells that I wanted to sear forever in my memories of Siagon, I said goodbye to all my friends and I left Viet Nam for the second, and what I thought would be the last, time. It had been a great year, a challenging year, but one filled with new friends, enjoyable trips, delicious food, new experiences and countless happy memories. I was sad to leave, but I was also ready to move on to somewhere we could settle down - for at least two years - where I could find meaningful work and a hoard of new, unexplored weekend travel destinations. But one phone call from Viet Nam in mid-June put all my plans on hold and rendered all my last minute pre-departure errands moot. Steven had been offered a position teaching Geography at the new American International School Middle School in HCMC. We were going back to Viet Nam.

After a summer spent wiling away leisurely hours with family, reconnecting with friends over lunch, dinner and drinks and some long days of working to help Steve and Steven get the house ready to put on the market, I found myself again packing up all of our worldly possessions, those not already tucked away in my brother’s attic or left in our respective childhood homes, into four suitcases and two carry on bags. I was not dreading the trip, but I also was not filled with the excitement of a new journey as I had been the year before. Facing another year in Viet Nam, I had perfected the art of living in the moment over the summer, enjoying spending time with friends and family I would not be seeing for a while, taking time to appreciate the variety of familiar goods on the stores of my local supermarkets, relishing the freedom of driving on the open road, singing along to songs whose lyrics I still remember after all these years. Steven and I spent the last week getting in last minute visits with cherished friends and putting the final touches on the house we hoped would sell soon after we left. At 6:30 a.m. on Friday, August 14th, with only three hours of sleep between us, we loaded up the cab and climbed in for our last ride through Atlanta traffic until our return in the summer of 2010.

Our first flight took us from Atlanta to Dallas/Fort Worth, where we shared our last American meal of creamy spinach and artichoke dip from T.G.I. Friday’s. As we walked toward our gate to board our 13 hour flight to Tokyo, I noticed a familiar figure slouched in a chair near the gate. As we approached the man in the chair, recognition hit me and our return to Viet Nam began early as we happily reunited with a friend from the previous year. After catching up on the past three months, we all boarded the plane. Sixteen hours later on our flight from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh City our reunion continued as another good friend walked by our seats and gave us a surprised, “Hey!” and a welcoming hug, before joining us for a stretch and a chat to catch up in the back of the plane. I was beginning to look forward to being back.

Our flight landed in HCMC at 10:05 p.m. and the four of us picked up our VISAs, loaded our luggage on carts and shared a taxi to the center of the city where we departed at our respective destinations. Steven and I had booked a hotel in Pham Ngu Lao, the city’s backpacker district, where a plethora of budget hotels compete for travelers and countless restaurants offer cheap cuisine from all parts of the globe. Our room was in a hotel was off the main strip, down a narrow winding alley and up two flights of stairs. After taking a much needed shower, we crashed - our first night back in Viet Nam.

We woke up early the following morning and made our way downstairs and out through the winding alley to one of the numerous restaurants offering breakfast. Over a breakfast of vegetable noodle soup (me), a bowl of muesli with fruit and yogurt (Steven) and one of the ubiquitous backpacker banana pancakes (shared between us), we talked about our plan for the day and watched the morning unfold on the street in front of our restaurant, remarking on the familiarity of it all. As I watched the fruit vendors walking down the street, the shoe shine boys crowding around Steven’s shoes as they shined them on the sidewalk, old Vietnamese men chatting with each other over their bowls of pho, I recognized with surprise and delight, that I was genuinely glad to be back in Viet Nam.