My

My
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

My Trip Journal continues.
My nephew My (pronounced me), the biggest surprise. Before going to Vietnam, I never thought very much about the family there. We would occassionaly receive pictures, and a phone call to my mother-in-law a couple of times a year but I didn't know any names, just the oldest brother. And I did not even begin to think about the extended family. Was I in for a surprise!
After we arrived, we immediately went to my oldest brother's youngest son's house to get him. He wasn't ready, so we just continued on to Ba Ria. After a few minutes, an older nephew, with another young man, arrived on a motor scooter next to us. In 1994, a niece and a nephew had both gotten married in Vietnam, they had sent pictures to us. I had looked through the pictures a hundred times trying to figure out who was Anh Hue's children (he has six).
There was one young man in the pictures who I could not figure out who he was. He was always smiling, seeming to have the most fun, looked very young, and different.
So, back to the scooter. There on the scooter was the mystery man/boy. I immediately recognized him. I couldn't believe he was Anh Hue's youngest son. His name is My, it means American in Vietnamese. The funniest thing is that he looks American (whatever that means). I guess a better way of saying it is, he doesn't look Vietnamese. He smiled alot.

We continue on to Anh Hue's house in Ba Ria. I can definitely say that first trip was one of astonishment. The traffic, nothing short of pandomonium. Everyone driving, no lanes, no redlights, just a continuous blowing horn to warn people to get out of the way. It was wild!

And the further away from Saigon we got, the more beautiful the countryside. Green, a green like I have never seen in the states. Mountains, beautiful mountains.

After arriving in Ba Ria, we went to find food. Rice and pork chops, the most delicious dish. While Ms. Thi was eating, my nephew took me to an internet cafe, and I had the opportunity to email my family. At this point, I could not fathom that I was actually there.

We went home to Anh Hue's house. And then we all sat around and visited. I just sat and tried to learn everyone's name. There is nothing funnier than an American trying to pronounce Vietnamese names, an American who deosn't speak the language anyway. A family reunion. I sat ther looking at the walls of Anh Hue's house thinking I can't believe I am here.

What a Sweet View!

DSC01743
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

Since my insomnia is in control, I will keep writing.

We began our airplane trip in New Orleans to Houston to Seattle to Taipei to Saigon. My mother-in-law needed a wheelchair, which made the boarding the airplane very easy. We were always the first to get on and the last to get off. The flights were as fun as flights could be. Feeling that power as the plane takes off, the view, the landing. It was an amazing experience, observing everyone, sleeping on the plane, eating the airline food, all of it. I was meant to be a traveler.

After 27 hours, we arrived in Vietnam. I remember first seeing green when I knew we were over the country, it was the most beautiful green I had ever seen. Even thinking back to it now, it seems as if it was a dream. The airport was interesting. Nothing short of pandemonium, so many people, so many packages/luggage. Crazy. My mother-in-law was in a wheelchair, I had our carry on luggage (all of my cameras included), and trying to find 4 massive suitcases (70 pounds each). It was a bit scary. Oh, and when you enter and go through I guess what is customs for Vietnam, they ask for the address where you will be staying. Guess what? I had no IDEA! I had never wrote down an address, and then facing this man in a army uniform, I felt my blood pressure go up and the sweat begin to pour. Pure blessing, they let us go and said my brother-in-law would have to bring something back to them. Whew!

We made it through the airport and all of the lines. Thankfully for the wheelchair, it provided a bit of a rush. Finally, we were walking out of the doors into a wall of people. I can imagine now what celebrities must feel like, except these people were not cheering, just looking. And then out of the blue, our family came. My sisters-in-law first, they ran to my mother-in-law and then came hug me. I recognized them. And then, I began to make this really weird whimpering sound, like I can't believe this is happening sound. A sound of the purest pleasure and excitement. I don't think I knew what else to do. I was experiencing this journey that I had spent sooooo many days fantasizing about, watching tv of other people experiencing it but it was my turn. At that point, I thing true fear gripped me. I then realized that I could not speak, I could not communicate. For a person that loves to talk, that means death. At that point I had to rely on my travel companion. A companion who was not happy (yes, not happy, if a person can imagine such a thing) and probably having a nicotine fit. So, I broke out with my journal and pen and asked a sister-in-law to write their names-a beginning.

Road in Ba Ria, Vietnam

Vietnam Road in Ba Ria, Vietnam
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

As I battle my insomnia, I have found that writing feels good. So, I will continue my mind emptying journal of my vacation to the land of everything green. I had my passport, now I could look forward to really going. I began packing, reading, and packing some more. I made a trip and bought huge amounts of candy (I thought the children would really enjoy it), enough cracker snacks for a month (if I ate one a day), towels (surprise, surprise), toilet paper (just a precaution), and medicine. Before I went, my biggest concern was food. My mother-in-law cooks Vietnamese dishes all of the time. However, in the 18 years I have known her, I have only adapted to eating two-pho and spring rolls. I definitely thought I would starve to death. Yes, I know that is a bit close minded but I really had no idea what to expect (was I ever going to be surprised). I packed clothes (to give away)-that was two suitcases.
In retrospect, I realize how much time I spent packing when there were other things I should have been concerned about. One-I did not know how to speak the language and could not understand anything. I knew how to count in Vietnamese and understood the words for "say" and "go". But nothing else. I also did not know anyone's name. I knew my brothers-in-laws' names, but I was mispronouncing that. I should have tried to learn something.
I never thought any where past landing on the ground in Vietnam. I didn't think about what I would do with my days, how I would communicate, getting to know the family, nothing. Just placing my feet on the ground, that would have been enough. I did have one worry-how would my mother-in-law make it through leaving them again and knowing that she would never see them again. Once she left Vietnam, we knew her health would not permit her to return. That thought made me ill, it was very hard to process.
Finally, departure day arrived. Dear husband took me to the airport and daughter came too. I didn't want her to come, I thought it would be too hard to leave her. Son was sleeping, and I kissed him bye. The airport was exciting, just the experience in itself was a journey. Before we left my husband, he told me, " I hope you find what you are looking for." I definitely thought, I hope I do too. Daughter gave me her little blue blanket (it is just a piece of leftover cloth she had gotten from my grandmother when she was very little. She would use it for her baby dolls), and told me to take it just in case I got lonesome. That was hard. I cried. Note-yes, I cry for everything. But I couldn't stop. It was horrible.
Since giving birth to my children, they are what I live for. Sometimes, I second guess myself on just how important they are to me. I know what I think in my head, their well being and happiness is more important to me than anything else in the world. When I left my daughter at the airport, it felt like a 100% confirmation of that feeling. At that moment, I promised myself never to leave her or her brother again. It was just too hard.

Happy Me

happyme
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

It's been awhile. We are moving ( I have sort of mentioned this before). As we are on vacation for Mardi Gras, we have been consumed by the new, renter's house. Painting, painting, and painting some more. As I paint, which I ironically find quite relaxing, I fantasize about people in the world who never have the opportunity to paint, or are just rich enough to pay people to paint for them. I think they are missing therapy. I actually do enjoy the painting, especially the trimming.

Life has been kind of busy, as usual. I took the children to a parade today, finally. I only realized that I really don't care for all of the hoopla. Daughter really enjoyed it a lot. She is very outgoing, extrovert. Dear son, on the other hand, did not. Through out the whole parade, he sat on my lap holding my thumbs. He reminds me so much of myself when I was young. I find it really surprising. But, they experienced the parade and now they have beads to litter the floor until I through them in the garbage.

My picture, me in Vietnam. I think my family has definitely gotten tired of hearing about it but I am reminded if I don't write about my trip, I will definitely forget some things I never want to forget. When I reflect on my trip, I don't know where to start if I wanted to talk about it. Because my husband is a by product of the war, Amerasian, and was born in Saigon, I have always had the desire to see the country. To see the place of his birth, where his mother and father lived together as a family, where his brothers still are. I had read every bit of literature I could handle, done term papers in high school and in college on Vietnam, and dreamed. The thought of ever actually going seemed impossible. I talked about, I knew people who went, friends and students, but for me to go-just a dream.

Finally, two of my coworkers were going back in the summer of 05. Their family lived in the same province as my brothers-in-law. With them in country, I knew I would have English speaking friends, a comfort. My mother-in-law was in poor health. Her kidneys only getting worse. She had not been back in thirty years. We, as a family, knew that the opportunity for her to visit was getting shorter. If it was going to happen, it had to happen soon. I pleaded my desire to my husband, knowing very well to finance a trip was asking a bit much. Not to mention, who would take care of my children while I went on this trip around the world. I began working a second job at night, cleaning buildings, trying to make extra money for my trip. For the work I was doing, the money was not equivalent. And the only thing I learned was that I was glad to have a degree so I didn't have to do a manuel labor job.

About two weeks before my friend's departure date, my husband surprised me with a check. I cried and cried and cried. I really thought I was hallucinating. My greatest dream, he made come true. My children, my mom agreed to come and stay with my husband and my children for the month I would be gone and take care of them. A sacrifice. My friend took me to New Orleans to buy our tickets. We would be leaving two days after her. Then, my husband and I went to get my passport in New Orleans. I never stopped smiling. I think the people in the passport office even thought I was crazy because I was smiling so much. And then when I told them I was going to Vietnam, they really looked at me funny. That was one of the happiest days of my life.

Ricky and Aunt Frances

Ricky and Aunt Frances
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

Time for reflection always seems peculiar. I have this picture of my husband and his aunt, his father's youngest sister. On this day, we had gone to meet them in Gulf Shores for their annual/semi-annual vacation. We just drove down for the day. It was so beautiful. I snapped this pic while Rick was walking toward the beach with Aunt Frances. It just seemed perfect. Aunt Frances is his father's sister. His father that he never knew, but the one who knew him. I remember always watching Ricky with our children when they were the age I knew he was before his father passed away thinking, he knew his father like this. Our children adore him, and I am sure he was the same with his father. He describes growing up and always feeling as if someone was there with him, he believes his father. He and his brothers have grown up and stayed healthy, not in trouble, avoiding many of the pitfalls that we have watched friends get involved in. None of them have ever had a broken bone, needed surgery for anything, had to be put in the hospital for a sickness. They have ended up on the good side of fortune. Graduating from high school, staying out of the drug scene, healthy children, well liked. They grew up in a very rough part of town. It seems miraculous to me that their path has stayed good. I always believed there was someone watching over them.
On the other side of the picture, Ricky has two aunts, a family. Although millions of people in the world have extended families, some don't. I believe that leaves us with extended families most often taking it for granted and not realizing what we have, as compared to what others do not. For many years, Ricky did not have a relationship with all of his father's family. As a child, they went to Alabama and visited and met some relatives, but only once. Every once and awhile he would receive a letter from his aunt. I remember meeting him and always asking questions, too many I am sure. Always being amazed how he saw himself as Vietnamese, not American. It bothered me. I saw the story more along the lines of your father loved you enough to bring your family to America, not leave you in Vietnam because you were that important to him. You are American, and embraced more than you know. When the children were three, we took a trip to Alabama to meet some of his family. We had the opportunity to meet his father's younger sister, along with an amazingly huge, extended family. I truly believe both he and Howard (the little brother) were astounded and confirmed. It was the best feeling in the world. For both of them to be face to face with the other side of who they were, and realize that they were loved. I remember a particular memory from that visit. He had always told me about a baby picture of him, laying on his belly, smiling. I had even tried to recreate the picture with Hannah. He said when he was in grade school, he had brought the picture to school for Christmas and never received it back. His Aunt Frances brought a small photo album. When she opened it, there were pictures of his father and him, and that beautiful smiling baby picture. All of the pictures were in perfect condition, pictures his father had sent to his sister when he passed away. I felt breathless. Since that first visit, we have been to Alabama a few times, visited his aunts, stood where his father stood. His family has come to Louisiana, visited our home, celebrated a birthday together even. Some days it still amazes me to see the man he was when I met him and the man he has become. The one so unsure, and now the one so confident, embrazing his American "side", his other family. Realizing that he is like so many of his friends. He has cousins, he has aunts and uncles, he is loved. If there can be an even more amazing addition to the whole story, his family is wondeful. They are kind, good, loving people. I am always astounded by the fact that of the billions of people in the world, God gave us this family. How blessed we are. Amazing, simply amazing.

Son at Christmas

Son at Christmas
Originally uploaded by rogenadel.

Here is my nephew, Son. When my husband and I first got together, Son was only 6 or 7. Now 17 years later, it seems really weird seeing him all grown up. We would go and get him many weekends, taking him to the park, or to the movies. He was always quiet, good, respectful, funny. Just a good kid. As a young man, he still comes home to see banoi, alot. Still sweet.

We are moving, hopefully. In the process of selling our house and moving to the city across the river. I have to pack an endless amount of material. The ability for a person to acquire "things" is truly amazing. Every day I come home, look at the boxes, look at my home, and think, I'll just wait until tomorrow. Growing up, we moved alot. Not just a little, like a few times, but a lot. If my mom was upset with my stepdad, we moved. And he would come and woo her back, and so we moved back. There was never a second thought on moving. So, I think I am permanently scarred from moving. It gives me a scary feeling in the pit of my stomach, the idea of moving. Yes, I know, crazy but uneasy still.

Another side of moving. My grandparents live across the street from me. One of my greatest happinesses moving to our current location was because we would be living across from my grandparents. I love them so much. And have always felt the closer I am to them, the better. I talk to my grandmother everyday. She is one of my best friends. She loves my children just like she loves me. And treats them the same also. 

My grandfather, before he was sick, could create the best conversations. He would remember everything. And the best story teller. Funny, so funny. And details. We would talk about family, all families, how people were related and where they came from. Everything. Nothing malicious. Just a love for family. I loved talking to my grandfather, about history, his memories growing up, about the war, storms, shrimping. With his growing older and the disease that has taken his mind, I have lost him. I can't remember the last normal conversation I had with him or when he seemed to slip away. Now we talk but it is me trying to understand what he is talking about. And most of the time his words don't come. If it is a noun, he doesn't know it. So, you have to try and figure out what he is saying. It is frustrating for us, and sometimes for him. 

My grandfather, my idol. He has always been the constant in my life. Always there, always dependable, never leaving. His word is his life. My hero.

And so, I am scared to move. He walks to my house everyday. Not for me but for my children, to see them. Just as my cousins and I were his life, my children are now. He spoiled them. They are too young to realize the jewel that he has been. He doesn't talk much anymore and can't keep up with Khai like he used too. I am scared he will feel too lost without us here. My grandmother says it is making him sick to see us move. I will come home everyday to see him. I just hope he can remember the way to my new house.

He is a Great Daddy!