amyskillman

[amyskillman]

Around the World in 30 days...well, actually, 29 days.

It was already pretty exciting when my colleague Ho-Thanh and I received word that our proposal to conduct a workshop at the 4th World Conference of Women’s Shelters was accepted.  It meant we would be going to Taiwan in November.  And no one with a traveler’s heart like mine flies half way around the world for a short week in Taiwan.  So we planned to take an extra couple of weeks to explore more of Maritime Southeast Asia; Borneo, Brunei, The Philippines, Bali, East Timor, Torajaland, it all sounded so inviting.  We were having fun researching and reading about where to go.  

How do you choose your destination when you have some free time in a part of the world that is new to you?  Some look for beaches, some look for shopping, some look for outdoor adventure, and some look for cultural engagement.  Ho-Thanh and I fall into the latter two categories, mostly, and were eagerly soaking up any information we could find.  In the middle of all that anticipation, I received an invitation to deliver a guest lecture at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, the week after the conference in Taiwan.  Yikes!  How could I say no?  When I researched past lecturers, I found the names of people I have long admired in my field.  This would be a fantastic opportunity.  Yet, how could I say yes?  The thought of leaving Maritime Southeast Asia without adequately exploring it, was a sacrilege.  In the end, however, it was a no-brainer; I was going to Scotland. The host gave us an extra week to get there and Ho-Thanh decided to come along (I think she really just wants to travel, it doesn’t matter where).  So our adventure simply shifted a bit.

After we bought the tickets from Singapore to Scotland, I realized we were flying west and going all the way around the world.  I have wanted to do an around-the-world trip since I was a little girl.  My grandparents traveled around the world when I was just learning about travel.  I can still hear the names of countries like Portugal, Kashmir, and Formosa in my grandmother’s voice as my curious 8-year-old ears heard them. Those words resonate and still call to me as I plan my own travels.  When they returned from their journey, my grandfather offered a talk at church about their big adventure.  I can still remember the poster they made to announce his talk.  He was an excellent photographer and it was a big deal that he was showing slides. How fitting that photography is such an important part of the way I document and share my travel experiences.

So, here I am beginning my own around-the-world journey.  Packing has been a challenge, and I would highly recommend you take more than 29 days, but we are off on a grand adventure that is sure to shift some things in my body and soul.

[amyskillman]

Seeking 72 Degrees

It’s the perfect temperature.  

After winter, the bulbs begin to show themselves when temperatures rise from the 40s into the 70s. We feel renewed and look forward to the scent of lilacs on the breeze.   We put away our sweaters and pull out the sandals. We turn our faces to the sun and soak in the warmth.

After summer, the bull frogs slow their singing and burrow into the mud when the temperatures drop from the 90s to the 70s.  We feel restful and look forward to the shuffling of leaves beneath our feet. We put away the sandals and eagerly done our fleece.   The air freshens and we raise our heads to breathe it in.

For years, I have had a fantasy to take a year off and travel the world in search of 72 degrees. Where would it take me, passing through each longitude to find that perfect temperature all year long?  What landscapes embrace that perfect combination of renewal and rest – not year ‘round, but at that moment in time?

As it turns out, I have an opportunity to begin this curious pursuit in the most unlikely of places – Nepal, the Himalayas!.  No, I am not heading out on a year-long journey, but I am following a life-long dream to visit Nepal.  And, to my delight, the median temperature this time of year in Nepal is just about 72 degrees.  We plan to visit several areas:  Kathmandu, Chitwan, Gorkha and Pokhara.  Despite the range of ecosystems, I am able to pack for the perfect temperature.  

Ugh, packing.  That is my least favorite part.  So, I am grateful to be able to minimize the stress by planning for a consistent climate.  In fact, I should be packing now, but would much rather write about the experiences ahead. This is what I love about travel. In anticipation, I have been reading as much as I can get my hands on before going; the usual travel guides and language primers, but also some travel narratives.  

The first of these is Two-Year Mountain: A Nepal Journey by Phil Deutschle.  Deutschle served for two years as a teacher in the Peace Corps in Nepal in the 1970s and had the opportunity to return some 30 years later, ironically in the spring, when I will be travelling.  Part self-reflection, part adventure journal, the book captures the stunning beauty of the landscape and the soul of the people.   His vivid images and memorable stories have set the stage for a grand adventure.

In While the Gods Were Sleeping, anthropologist Elizabeth Enslin finds herself uprooted from her anticipated PhD research in East Africa, when she falls in love with a fellow student who happens to be Nepali.  Her interest is in women’s social justice movements and they land in Chitwan, Nepal just in time for some pretty harrowing politics.  It is a great read from the perspective of an activist cultural researcher and as a glimpse into a very different part of the country.  

Now I just need to go listen to some Nepali…

[amyskillman]

Learning Chinese

Original Post on Wordpress: May 7, 2013

Today, I picked up a Chinese Language CD to play in my car for the next two weeks before I leave.  I have learned over the years that being able to speak just a few common phrases (thank you, where is the bathroom?, how much is this?) is so appreciated that people are  happier to help me.  When you are at a linguistic disadvantage, that little bit of effortless respect can mean the difference between being treated like a tourist and being treated like a traveler.

Chinese, well Mandarin, is a tonal language which means you not only have to know the word, but you have to give it the right intonation.  English doesn't do that.  "There" sounds exactly like "their," and "where" sounds just like "wear."  But  if you don't use the right tone in Chinese you could be saying something like goat when you actually mean yesterday.  This is not a real example; I don't know enough to give you a real example.  But you could get into all kinds of funny trouble if you use the wrong intonation.  So I may have to go to sleep to this CD for the next few weeks just to get the pronunciation in my head.  I did that with the Portuguese language tapes before going to that lovely country a few years ago, and someone actually commented favorably on my pronunciation!  So I think it helps.

Earlier this week I received my official Chinese name:  施爱梅.  It  is pronounced Shi Aimei.  I was told that "施" is the surname, and its pronunciation is similar to the S of Skillman. The pronunciation of  “爱梅” is similar to Amy, but they have spelled it Aimei.  When I was in third grade and starting to learn French, I spelled my name Aimee which means  friend or lover.  So imagine my delight to learn that “爱梅” is a very traditional Chinese name and means "love plum flower".  Plum flower is one of the four important flowers in Chinese culture, so I guess I'll be looking for plum motifs on my journey!  Fun, eh?

In her book Dreaming in Chinese, Deborah Fallows talks about the construction of many Chinese characters.  Words are often expressed in compound characters where each of the strokes  has its own meaning and, when combined in the compound character, has yet another meaning.  So, for instance, the character for joyous, is a combination of the strokes for open and heart.   Makes sense, doesn't it?  The character for "watch out!" is a combination of small and heart - a tightening heart is a perfect description of  what happens in a dangerous situation, right?  Anyway, it will be fun to see if someone can tease apart the simple characters in my Chinese name and tell me if they have deeper meanings, beyond loving the plum flower.  The discoveries begin.....

[amyskillman]

Anticipation

Original Post on Wordpress: May 14, 2013

Who is it that said 90% of travel is the anticipation? It is true that we often spend more time preparing for the journey than actually taking it.  As I prepare for my upcoming trip to China, I sometimes find myself lamenting the end of it before I have even begun.  Travel opens my heart and makes me see my surroundings in ways I forget to do at home.  Everything is new; the birdsong, the way the wind turns the leaves on a tree, the smile of a stranger, the press of heat through my chest as I try a spicy meal.  And because everything is new, my time in China  will be different from anyone else's.  Of course, people go to China all the time.  But every traveler has her own experience; shaped by the places she visits, the people she meets and the perspective she brings to those moments.

I leave for China, via Los Angeles, on May 30th - the fortunate recipient of a fellowship through the American Folklore Society (www.afsnet.org).  My traveling companion will be Anthony Bak Buccitelli, assistant professor of American Studies at Penn State (http://harrisburg.psu.edu/faculty-and-staff/anthony-b-buccitelli-phd). Although we both live in central Pennsylvania, we only met after learning we had both received the fellowship.  Our hosts in China will be various universities and members of the China Folklore Society, so you can be sure our time in China will be filled with things cultural.

I have no idea what to anticipate; what moments will stand out and become a recurring part of my narrative when I tell the stories back home, what images will define my experiences, what challenges will shape my character.  But I do know I can't wait for the journey to begin.  There is much to do before I board that plane, but in my heart, I am already travelling.  I invite you to travel along through this blog.  It is my first attempt at blogging, so be patient and let the adventure begin!  

[amyskillman]

Getting Acquainted

NOTE: This entry was first posted on my WordPress blog on May 28, 2013.  But because google products are not available in China, I switched to Tumblr.  I moved these earlier posts to Tumblr to have them all in one place.

Part of the Henry Luce Foundation  funding that is supporting my fellowship in China has also been supporting four conferences; two in China and two in the US.  These gatherings have brought together folklore scholars from both countries to explore issues such as governmental policies related to intangible cultural heritage, case studies, preservation, documentation, fieldwork, and archives management.  The 4th conference was just held in Washington D.C. at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian.  I was fortunate enough to go, not only because I was able to learn more about how these Chinese scholars are approaching folklore, but also because I was able to get to know some of the people I will be seeing again on my travels.

Throughout the two day conference, we heard some wonderful presentations on photography and folklife, bridging relations among ethnic groups, best practices for working with immigrants, oral tradition archives, and the Smithsonian Folklife Festival.  I was asked to respond to a paper given by Wang Xiaobing  on her experience presenting a pair of Kahzak improvisational singers to audiences in Germany.  She raised some really great questions about presenting artists across cultures, and especially across languages.  The audiences in Germany were interested but didn't really know how to BE an audience for this kind of art form.  We talked about various ways to "prepare" an audience for better enjoying ad understanding cross-cultural art forms.  What I loved about Professor Wang's presentation was the ability of the artists to use their improvisational style to comment on the audience as they were performing.  They drew on their own poetry to give them courage to continue and to tease the audience.  It gave them the strength to perform when they knew the audience didn't know what they were saying.  So, in some ways, it was subversive.

My comments were translated as I read them so I met with the translator before hand to explain some of the concepts I was using.  We had a particularly interesting discussion about how to translate the idea of subversive.  At first I thought it was because there might not be a direct translation, but in the end I think I learned there are several different words for subversive, depending on the kind of situation (political, personal, social, playful).  We talked about several examples before settling on the one she would use to describe what I meant.  It was so enlightening to be translated in such a setting.  I will see both the presenter and the translator when I travel to China and am looking forward to continuing these kinds of conversations.

After the last presentation, we all piled into a van and traveled to the Library of Congress for a tour of the Great Hall, the Asian Reading Room and the Archive of Folk Culture in the American Folklife Center.  This photograph was taken in the Archive where Nicki Saylor was showing the digital collections to several of the Chinese delegates.   Seated left to right they are: Joy Cheng (Ohio State University, translator), Li Lin (Central China Normal University), Chen Xi (Sun Yat-Sen University, translator), Nicki Saylor (AFC), Junhua Song (Sun Yat-Sen University), Nancy Groce (AFS), and Jiang Minzhi (Sun Yat-Sen University).  Standing tall behind Nancy Groce is Professor Chao Gejin from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences in Beijing.  He is perhaps the most passionate about digital archives.  His center has over 10,000 hours of recorded songs from the Mongolian tribes of China.  He is Mongolian himself and is especially concerned to get these songs digitized before no one knows them anymore.  Once they are digitized, they can also be translated and perhaps we will all have a better understanding of this beautiful epic tradition.  On the last night, we all went to dinner where it is traditional to offer songs to the group.  You should hear him sing!

[amyskillman]

Yesterday we went high up into the hot, dusty red dirt highlands of Central Vietnam. Our destination was a Leper colony of the indigenous Jarai people living about 40 kilometers up some very twisty roads outside Pleiku. Our purpose was to distribute medicine, shoes and staples like salt, sugar, noodles, rice, fish sauce, and dried fish, purchased with funds raised by a group of friends selling egg rolls in their communities outside Vietnam. Our reward was the smile on the girl’s face above.

In my own ignorance, I admit to being a bit queasy about this visit. But this is Ho-thanh’s work and I wanted to understand it. Going to this region with her may have been one of the best and most exhausting parts of this whole trip.

I was surprised to learn that leprosy still effects people, both in central and southern Vietnam. There are two hospitals, one in each region, and both are run by Catholic orders of nuns. The disease generally doesn’t show itself until adulthood so people can live with it until it is too late to avoid the effects (loss of extremities, skin flaking, etc). While modern medicines are free and most patients are cured after a stay in a hospital, the stigma of leprosy as a contagious scourge continues. Patients and their families tend to remain isolated, especially in indigenous villages. For some, the reaction of people in the “outside” world is worse than the isolation.

A key problem in the indigenous communities is that the medication makes you very hungry. If you don’t have enough food to eat to begin with, the medication can make life harder. So they may begin the treatments, but stop when the hunger becomes unbearable.

The village we visited only had about four serious cases, but the community remains isolated and stigmatized. Providing outside help, without the government as go-between, can be risky. So when we pulled up in the convent van, Ho-Thanh and I remained inside while the nun talked with the village leader and received assurance that we could safely distribute the supplies.

Women arrived with empty woven baskets on their backs while children gathered under the trees. The men sat around the edges, watching; some suspicious, some jealous, some gentle and grateful. As the nuns distributed the staples, Ho-Thanh and I gathered all the children around us and showed them how to open and eat Hershey Kisses and how to blow bubbles with bubble gum. When I demonstrated blowing a bubble, I got lots of giggles after one popped on my nose.

Shy at first, and stunned by the presence of a white person in their midst, the children lined up in neat rows with the youngest in front. But by round two they loosened up and eagerly put their hands out for more. We even got some pops and bubbles by the time we left. When I pulled out my cell phone to take the above photo of the hands, it took a minute for them to understand my intent. But soon they got it and eagerly played along. More, please. They giggled when I showed them the photo. Laughter - the universal language.

I have some qualms about giving sugar to children who do not have access to dental care. But I have mentioned the Vietnamese penchant for sweets elsewhere and so I rationalize that the rare enjoyment of chocolate is worth it. We all crave a little chocolate once in a while.

[amyskillman]

The Photographer's Gaze

Everyday, I spend a little bit of time reviewing my photographs; transferring them to a thumb drive and deleting the one’s I am pretty sure I’ll never show anyone. Well, to be honest, I spend a LOT of time reviewing my photographs. After each shot, I look to see if I got what I thought I was getting. Then, after each event or activity, I review the group and see if they say what I was hoping they would say about that event or activity. At the end of the day, I review the whole lot to help me write in my journal, select the fav phone photo of the day for Facebook, or decide what deserves a longer caption for this blog.

It all makes me feel a little frenetic about my photography, to the extent that I wonder if I am missing the actual experience for all the effort to “capture the moment.”

There is a women on this trip I have had the opportunity to get to know a little. She is Vietnamese American and recently retired from her 25-year stint with the U.S. Government, enabling her to travel to Vietnam more. She studies Buddhism and would like to be a monk, but her mother says her family needs her. She dresses simply in a purple silk blouse and carries herself with stoic deportment. One morning I asked if we could have a photo together and she politely said, “no photos.” Since then, I have worried that she looks with disdain at my photo-taking exuberance.

I’d like to think my photographs are more educational than snap-shooting. But I find myself wanting to photo-document everything. It is all so new to me, and perhaps the photos will help me remember. I still have some angst about photographing people, unless I get a sign that it is welcome. The phone is a stealthy, if unobtrusive tool, but often feels unethical.

So, I wonder at my Buddhist friend’s philosophy of being in the moment; of no photos. Will her memory or experience of this trip be different from mine? Is it in her body and heart, while only in my head? Will I only be able to retain the images I have photographed, the emotions fading as they move out of focus?

I am still taking photos and hope they illuminate my experience for others, but the photographer’s gaze is on my mind.

[amyskillman]

We have arrived in Saigon (officially Ho Chi Minh City) where they say the traffic is worse than anywhere else in the country. I'm not sure that is true. It seems to me that the traffic is pretty chaotic everywhere. We saw a t-shirt with a traffic light on it. For green, it said, "this means I can go." Next to the yellow it said, "this means I can go." And next to the red it said, "this means I can go." I think they are a bit proud of their crazy traffic. It is a game, a sport, a daily meditation on being present; a challenge to keep your highest senses finely tuned. In Saigon, there are 10 million people and 6 million scooters. Yesterday I saw a family sharing one scooter. The baby was pressed between mother and father while the oldest child stood on the back holding his mother's shoulders. But the boulevards where we are staying are wide and the traffic seems to keep moving. You just have to flow with it. I think the only traffic rule is "Just go." All the other rules are mere suggestions. It is exhilarating to cross the street. The drivers count on you to keep moving so they can judge whether to go in front of you or behind you. If you stop or slow, it throws them off. You put your hand out toward the traffic and just go. The same is true in lines. People don't really queue up. They just go. If you are too polite, letting people go in front of you, you may never get off the bus or to the ticket counter or into the buffet line. The boats at least follow the "starboard boat has right of way" rule, but even there, it is everyone for themselves. Just go, or you will miss your spot at the dock or next to the tourist boat to sell your wares. The Vietnamese have mastered the art of Controlled Chaos. Just go.

[amyskillman]

Street food in Can Tho! This is Che, a yummy mix of taro, tapioca, coconut milk, and, of course, sugar. The Vietnamese love their sweets. To eat Che, you don't remove the rubber band, as I assumed when Ho-Thanh gave me one. Instead you shake it well to mix it, turn it upside down, tear a hole in one of the corners and suck it out. Ho-Thanh came upon the stand on the way back from the Floating Market this morning and by the time I had caught up with her (I tend to stop and take photos), she had already sold ten bags for the lady. All she did was express her enthusiasm for it and everyone within ear shot was ready to buy one. One of the delights of this trip has been Ho-Thanh's enthusiasm for introducing me to these childhood sweets. Tonight we had Keo Keo, a type of taffy doused in powdered sugar and stretched until it separates into thin strands like those fancy silver necklaces. Then it is sprinkled with grated coconut and condensed milk, pressed between two round wafers of rice paper and finally folded like a taco. Then there were the bananas rolled in sweet sticky rice, grilled over charcoal and drizzled with a sweet coconut sauce. We had those this afternoon. Yup, the Vietnamese love their sweets! It's a dangerous place for someone with a sweet tooth. I grew up lamenting the fact that the Good Humor Man never made it down our rural street. That ice cream truck was the only form of street food I knew! And I thought it was pretty special. But we got nothing on sweet street food in Vietnam.

[amyskillman]

Ho-Thanh and some of the other ladies on our tour sit a spell and try some of the treats for sale in the day market in Can Tho. I loved how they pulled up stools for us to sit and chat while we tasted cashews, sweetened rice paper, soursop apple and peanut/sesame candies among other things. All were delicious. Apparently, when I am standing with Ho-Thanh, they try to charge her tourist prices; but when she is standing with me, we are able to negotiate more local prices. We laughed about this and thought I should walk away while Linh (in the foreground) negotiates for her pounds of cashews and candies. These will become gifts for her friends back home in California. She was very happy with her final price. After all, it included a lovely spot of social time in an otherwise hectic trip.

[amyskillman]

Forgiveness

After our overnight cruise on a trawler in Ha Long Bay, we returned to Ha Noi via van. The guide in the van (there is always a driver and a guide) turned out to be an amazing artist. He shared his website with us and we were impressed by his beautiful landscapes. He supplements his income doing guide work, because he is not interested in painting for the arts market. He prefers to paint by inspiration rather than popular aesthetics. Vibrant and somewhat impressionistic, his canvases depict a peaceful Vietnam.

He was eager to say that people in Vietnam have forgotten about the war. In fact, they look to the US as a model for human rights. He was a member of the Viet Cong during the war and as he spoke, I realized it was his face that stared with steely cold anger into my life as a war protester 40 years ago - the face of the “soldier enemy” imprinting sorrow and fear on the farthest reaches of my brain; sorrow for the hate it expressed, fear for the lives so directly impacted. He said he was lucky. He signed up to drive a supply truck so he never killed anyone. He believes the good life he now enjoys is because he never killed anyone. That statement belies an unspoken concern for the fates of the 1000s who did.

When he told us the American bombs destroyed his home, my heart broke. I felt somehow responsible. My apology came out broken and feeble. But he was gracious - “It’s all in the past, now.” Yet, hearing him describe how hard it was to rebuild his life tore at me.

After we got settled into our very comfortable hotel room, he called and offered to take us to dinner. I got the impression from Ho-Thanh this is unusual. He must have really liked us, she said. But I wonder if there was more to it. We accepted and were treated to a delicious meal at an all-vegetarian restaurant found after several twists and turns down the vibrant back alleys of Ha Noi. Thoughts of kidnappings and muggings filtered through our minds as we went deeper into the unknown. But in the end, we were well-cared for by the kindness and generosity of a private artist who painted a picture of true forgiveness.

[amyskillman]

This style of house pops up (literally) everywhere in Vietnam. Tall and narrow, they make the best use of the allotted space given to them - in most cases, 4 meters by 4 meters, or about 16 feet of frontage on the street. This one looks a little wider than most. Perhaps the family was able to acquire two lots.

The lower level is either a storefront and/or living room. A family can display their wealth by the oversized hand carved furniture used for entertaining visitors. I’ve seen this substantial furniture even peeking into small homes made of stucco and timber. The wealth appears on the inside, not the outside.

The second level usually houses the bedroom(s) and the third almost always has a balcony where plants are grown and clothes are hung to dry. Many of them have faux marble columns on the second and third levels. I have also seen some that go as high as four storeys.

When finished, and many remain unpainted, they are painted pastel colors like blue and peach. They all have these lovely decorative elements with contrasting colors, many far more elaborate than the ones shown here.

We have also seen many other styles, such as the thatched homes of the H'mong and the red tiled homes of the Tay people, but I have been intrigued by these which really stand out on the landscape.

[amyskillman]

Folk Tales and Travel

One of the best parts of travel is the preparation. I love highlighting intriguing recommendations in the Lonely Planet guide, getting tips and suggestions from others who have visited, learning enough of the language to be polite, and testing my math skills with the currency exchange. I try to discover some out-of-the-way places to visit to gain a better sense of what matters to people. I even like planning what to pack and researching ideas for gifts to bring back to friends. All this preparation heightens the anticipation, which is half the fun of travel. About a month ago, I found a book of Vietnamese children's tales which I planned to give to Ho-Thanh to read to her grandchildren. But just when I was about to give it to her, a light bulb went off -- I should read this book before going to Vietnam! She graciously let me keep it a while longer, so I set myself the task of reading one tale each night before going to bed. Brilliant. Because I read that book, I understood many of the stories enacted by the Water Puppet Theater we saw in Ha Noi. The performances were not translated so I was grateful to be able to follow the story line, and to know something of their origins. Because I read those tales, I knew the legend of the old turtle who lived in Hoan Kiem Lake. In the 15th century, he provided the sword known as Heaven's Will to emperor Le Loi who defeated the Chinese to win independence for Vietnam. The old turtle who has lived there most recently just died and there is significant concern about whether there are any descendants. The legend and the everyday have merged. Because I had read those tales, I knew the Water Buffalo was considered a God of Agriculture. So, I have not been surprised by the local narratives of intelligence attributed to this wise-looking beast of burden. I have seen the look of a sage old soul in their eyes as we have traveled among the rice paddies and villages. Because I read those stories, I was a little prepared for how gracious and generous our hosts have been. Everyone has gone out of their way to ensure our comfort and safety, just as they do in so many folk tales when visitors come to call. I have known for many years that folk tales express the values and beliefs of a people. I trust their deeper meanings. It never occurred to me to indulge in them as preparation for travel. But those stories have added a richness to my experience here - surely a lesson to benefit future travel.

[amyskillman]

Young women at the Bac Ha market share smiles and some sugar cane. Considered one of the best markets in northern Vietnam for its riot of colors and choices, you can buy everything from tea to a live water buffalo for your rice field. This is the main market of the Flower H'mong who flood in from their villages every Sunday morning to buy and sell supplies for the week. Most of the negotiations are going on between the H'mong themselves, but the increase in tourism in the area has lead to stalls and stalls of handicrafts from China being sold by the Kinh majority group. Ho-Thanh and I bought silver necklaces just for the fun of it. I was tempted to try the sugar cane but worried my teeth would hurt from all that sweetness. A young woman wields a small machete to cut the cane! It is pretty dramatic to me but everyday to her.

[amyskillman]

This is the view from our cabin on board Indochina Sails, a three-masted ship we sailed into Ha Long Bay. Ho-Thanh and I were ferried by tender (small boat servicing a ship) to the island in the distance where we hiked to the pagoda on the top. Nearly 500 steep steps. Whew what a hike! But even with the overcast sky, the view was well worth it. So peaceful and expansive. The French named this bay Ha Long which means underwater dragon. All the peaks look like the undulating form of a dragon swimming through the sea.

[amyskillman]

Ho-Thanh's grand nieces' children, Tram and Thi, pose in front of one of the Stations of the Cross at the Basilica in Phu Nhai. Thi had a broad-brimmed black hat to match her outfit but took it off just before this shot.

[amyskillman]

Faith and family

You can learn much about someone by what they choose to show you when you visit. Some friends call the sitter and take you out to dinner; others load up the car with blankets and sunscreen and take you to their favorite beach; still others might head for the nearest nature preserve to introduce you to the local bird population. On our full day in Nam Dinh with Ho-Thanh's family, we piled into a 16-passenger van and bounced down dusty country roads through miles of rice fields to visit churches and an agricultural museum. Six children (cousins and siblings) and ten adults spent the day together, wandering the grounds and interiors of the newest Basilica and the oldest Cathedral in the region. This is Catholic territory; church spires stand out against the sky above most of the villages. The first missionaries came to Vietnam from Portugal in the early 16th century, but it wasn't until the Jesuits came in the 17th century, that the religion began to take hold. Today about 5.6 million people in Vietnam practice Catholicism, representing just under 7% of the population. I wouldn't be surprised if Ho-Thanh's large family makes up half that population. It isn't clear to me why this province east of Ha Noi should be heavily Catholic. But the fact that the Basilica was just upgraded from a Cathedral in the last ten years is significant. What I loved about our day together was the casual inclusion of the children. First, they were as beautifully dressed as their mothers. The girls sported hats that matched their outfits, primarily for sun protection, but they might as well have been dressed for Mass. The boys wore shirts so new the folds still showed. The darlings gamboled through the aisles and church yards as if they belonged, posed eagerly for photos, engaged with the various sculptures, took care of each other, and fell fast asleep in our laps while we drove to the next site to do it all over again. We could have been meandering through a park. Instead we were discovering or rediscovering the history, art and ritual of a faith. Other stops included lunch at a seaside restaurant where we selected our fish out of saltwater tanks, and an agricultural museum that included an underground army bunker from the Vietnam war eerily at odds with the rest of the landscape. The children kept pace and kept the pace throughout. This beautiful day, planned with kindness and inclusion, helped me understand something about Ho-Thanh. As a Catholic, she and her family were in the minority growing up. As a new arrival in the United States, tasked with keeping her younger siblings safe, she had a fierceness about keeping her family together, and continuing to practice their faith. Watching the way her family took time off from work to show us a Vietnam that treasures faith and family, deepened my appreciation for her journey.