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The Stages of Getting Sick Abroad

1) Denial: What is that itch in my throat? NOTHING. I AM INVINCIBLE!!! Where's the next mountain? I'm climbing it! 2) Reluctant acceptance: Yeah... it's still there maybe I should get some cough drops and Emergency C. 3) Hypochondria: Omg, what if I have the flu or hay fever or the plague? *Turns to WebMD* ... Definitely cancer. 4) Weird alternatives to seeking potentially expensive medical care: Reach out to everyone in your life in med school or in the medical profession and send them TMI messages (Dentists go to med school too right?) Consulting your travel companions on the coloring of "normal phlegm" and asking way too many questions. "Merry Christmas! by the way... Can I tell you about my persistent cough?" Navigating pharmacies with no knowledge of the language and engaging in a heartening game of charades with the sales people. 5) Healing: Getting better in 5 days because it was really just a viral cold. Where's the next MF-ing mountain?!? I am invincible!!! Special shout out to Yvonne who has put up with my tissue mountains and consulted me on normal coloring. To Sadaf and Maria for tele-medical consultations (and humoring my craziness). And to Alice who is not a doctor but still provides very appreciated advice (I.e. Tempering my insanity).

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Two weeks have just flown by like nothing and here I am being inconsistent with my travel logs. Well, here’s my best stab at beginning to recap the three countries that the Quarter Life Crisis Crew visited starting with Cambodia:

Siem Reap, Cambodia:

Visiting Angkor Wat has long been a bucket list item for me but in the same way that you get nervous that your celebrity crush is actually not that awesome IRL, I was bracing myself to be underwhelmed. It was totally an unnecessary move because the place was just as magical as ever. We came for the sunrise pictures (typical) and even in the pitch black, amid thousands of other tourists, there was a serene and ancient quality to the scene. It’s a long story but we didn’t make it inside until three days later but when we did, we did it again at sunrise and were able to explore a nearly empty temple at first light. It makes all the difference to be able to enjoy the serenity without the bustle and crowdedness of all the tour groups and definitely easy to do if you’re willing to wake up early to avoid the crowd and heat.

On that first day though, we snapped our pics and rushed to see Angkor Thom and the magical faces of Bayon with sunrise lighting. It was a great call considering the golden morning light illuminated the faces in a surreal way. Something about the magnitude of these places and the pure fact that they have existed since the 11-12th century, just really puts you in your place in the universe (in the best way possible).

Still feeling very moved by our experiences at the temple we met up with Dominique’s friend who is a local tour guide in Siem Reap for lunch. From Dom’s local friend we learned the shocking fact that Cambodia and especially the residents of Siem Reap don’t really benefit from the billions of dollars that flow through the tourism industry. Angkor Wat and even the killing fields in Phnom Penh are actually privately owned by individuals from other countries. (Vietnam and Japan in these two instances). The friend wryly said that the tourism money simply flows through Cambodia to be washed and cleaned before leaving. The poverty and instability after the war created an environment where it seemed necessary to sell off these cultural sites when the government couldn’t maintain them but now, it has led to a loss in several billions over the last decade and a half.

After many years of deep and divisive contention, it has been decided that in 2016 the Angkor Wat temple sites will be returned to the Cambodian government. While this is a huge win moving forward, so much money has already been lost (and is still being lost in other cities with privately owned conflict tourism sectors) for a city that has altered so much of its community to cater to tourism. In a little town of just 30,000 residents, the past 5 years has been dedicated to developing entire blocks such as Pub Street to cater to the western visitors who want to temple watch in the daytime and get sloppy at night at karaoke bars and massage parlors. I’ve also noticed that in places that have less wealth or autonomy in (because they are more dependent on) their tourism industry, the more English is spoken. It's truly a form of cultural imperialism guided by uneven economic playing fields. As much as I loved Siem Reap, it saddens me that like many of the tourist destinations in Southeast Asia must become a cultural playground for privileged international travelers.

I left Cambodia feeling very lucky to experience the awe-striking temples and partake in the incredible food as well as meet inspiring people doing amazing work. But my heart was heavy trying to grapple with what it means to be a respectful tourist, how to feel when I am both critical of the tourism industry yet still partaking in it, or what positive models of tourism can be developed or replicated to empower communities on their own terms. Many lessons to learn and so many questions still unanswered but I am thankful for the opportunity to struggle with these thoughts and to be surrounded by friends who help me to process it all.

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Grub game in Da Nang and Hoi An is on point! Yvonne, Dom and I have agreed that the primary goal of this trip is to eat our way through every city over the next two weeks we travel to together and so we basically have planned our trip around our meals: breakfast, brunch, snack time, lunch, linner, snack time, dinner, and dessert. Some noteworthy faves:

1) Banh Mi Phuong: 2B Phan Chau Trinh, Hoi An

Featured on No Reservations, this place has gotten quite the boost in the last few years and totally deserving of the hype. This is like the super burrito of Banh mi with several types of meat, meat drippings, special homemade sauce, pate, cucumbers, cilantro, tomatoes, margarine, chili oil and grilled onions. I got the barbecued pork sandwich but you honestly can’t go wrong here.

2) Ba Duong Banh Xeo: 280/23 Hoang Dieu Street, Da Nang.

Extra crispy Vietnamese crepes stuffed with pork, shrimp, bean sprouts and served with rice paper, veggies and to die for pork peanut sauce. Nem lui or barbecued pork sausages on the side to wrap with rice paper (which, unlike the ones in the states doesn’t get dipped in water and stays crunchy).

3) Com Ga A Hai: 100 Thai Phien St., Da Nang

Chicken and rice have never been so delicious! The crispest, deep fried marinated chicken quarters (no breeding) with marinated rice and unbeatable hot sauce. Couldn’t wait to get hungry again to eat more!

We made friends with our cab driver on the way home who told us that most of his family is in Hayward in the Bay now. They visit often and the most emphatic thing he said about his American niece and nephew was that they could eat him out of house and home. "We pick them up from the airport and they tell me 'uncle we're hungry.' So I take them to get pho and they both finish 3 bowls each! 3 bowls! Can you believe it? Even I can't keep up!" ...Yep, we're feeling real American in Vietnam right about now.

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Posting from the Da Nang airport, short of one trusty travel companion. Mama left to go back home to the states from Ho Chi Minh City on Monday. It was more tearful goodbyes with family but she's already making plans to return with my dad. This was the longest she's ever been away from home and my Dad and she definitely let it be known that she missed her "furry son," or our family dog. It's been pretty adorable to see how the distance has affected my parents. My dad, who struggles to check his voicemail and is the epitome of a technophobe, learned to use various apps to stay in touch. I'd say that his use of emoticons, although sometimes still a little out of context, is quite impressive. They weren't able to talk frequently, but when they did, it wasn't the usual nagging and bickering or matter of fact reports that I'm used to. The best is probably when they awkwardly say "I love you" in a super rushed way at the end of the call (only in English because it would be too weird in Vietnamese). I should preface that by saying that I've never seen them say this in person. They also typically yell into the phone like the person on the receiving end is hearing impaired but when they get to this point in the convo their voices get quiet like it's a secret. It's super cute. Of course, sometimes my dad can't hear her and says "ok, ok, can not hear you-- bye!" but even when that happens I think the message is received. Traveling with my mom for three straight weeks is truly an experience that was both challenging and rewarding. Being with one other person for three straight weeks (esp when they're family) means some obvious points of friction at times. I always feel a little shady with these posts because they don't really capture the moments when I'm cranky or when she's stressed out. But I have to say that overall, I've so appreciated being a part of her journey home. Seeing her interact with all of these people and places from her past has helped me to better understand her as a person and not just my mom. Onward to six more weeks of travel with folks! Looking forward to what's ahead.

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The besties parted ways yesterday after flying back to Ho Chi Minh City. It was a tearful goodbye and they called each other twice in the four hours afterwards. It’s hard to describe how touching it has been to see them reunite after all this time.

Diaspora has taken so much from each of them: friends, family, lovers and neighbors. So often, I hear Vietnamese people from their generation get lost in a land mine of “what ifs.”

“What if I stayed? Would I have gotten to marry him? Would I have been able to make a living? Would I not be scared of oceans or have nightmares about boats capsizing?”

“What if I had left? Would I have made it big? Would I have aged less, learned the language and have a car? Would I have been able to help my family out more?”

At the root of those questions, I always sense that what they really want to know is if they would have been happier if things beyond their control had gone differently. It’s unsettling to know that your whole life could have been something else and that you might have even become someone else.

I think that for these ladies, this reunion has at least reaffirmed that, at their core, they’re still the same people they were at 18 when they last saw each other. That they still know how to love each other in the way that only close girlfriends can. That leaving or staying or 35 years couldn’t change that. It may be a small win over the Southeast Asian diaspora but it’s still pretty damn something.

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Hue has got all the nomz

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I have some words today to share about shopping in Vietnam. We met up with my cousin and her husband in Hue who joined us for a day of shopping at the famous Dong Ba market. First off, shopping in Vietnam is INTENSE. For my cousin, her husband and I, stepping into a market is super intimidating and stressful because the ladies (and they’re 95% women vendors in Vietnam) are known to double prices and expect you to bargain. Of course, that’s an art that we're all woefully inept at. 

Fortunately, my mom’s friends are like the goddesses of bargaining. Surprisingly, Co Mai, who is usually super chill and hien (gentle and soft spoken) turns out to actually be the master of bargainers. The woman knows how to dish it out like a boss! She says that she gets her skills from being a vendor herself in the notoriously cutthroat Saigon markets for three years when she lived there in her twenties.

Here’s a little glimpse of how my cousin and I would fair in the market:

Us: How much for this shirt?

Vendor: (without missing a beat) $8907383939043894

Us: umm… No thanks. Mmmk bye!

Vendor: tell me what you’re willing to pay? This is a great deal but for you I will work with if you tell me a price.

Us: We uhh don’t know… (after a string of questions and persistence from the vendor) No-thanks-thanks-bye! (Scurry away to go eat some food that doesn’t require bargaining and ponder how we’ll ever buy anything here)

Here’s how Co Mai, our secret weapon, gets down to business:

Co Mai: How much? (Points to the little outfit my cousin has been eyeing for her niece)

Vendor: 400,000 dong ($20)

Co Mai: Are you forreal?!? Get out of here. Give me a real price. (To her friend). Can you believe this lady? Trying to swindle customers!

Vendor: 400,000. That’s a good price, it’s usually 600,000.

Co Mai: Stop lying. I just bought one of those but wanted another (she totally didn’t) and the other lady charged me $50,000 (there is no other lady). I’ll give you 50,000.

Vendor: (dramatic sighing and tsk-ing) Get outta here. We gotta eat around here! How about 390,000?

(More back and forth ensues but their not budging from 350,000).

Co Mai: I’ve had enough of this. Come on gang, we out! (does the walk away with so much swagger)

(Vendor hesitates and calls her back) Co Mai gets the outfit for 80,000 dong or $4. The vendor pretends that she’s basically making no profit and is doing bc she likes Co Mai. Co Mai is all “Whatevs. Bye Felicia!” and we go along our merry way. Everyone else trails behind her because she’s our fearless leader and we are not worthy.

It’s all a song and dance, she says, and about everyone calling each other’s bluffs. There’s some yelling involved, dramatic waving of hands and big facial expressions to convey shock at prices proposed by the vendor and the customer. It’s quite impressive to see the pros at work, but I’m far from getting to their level.

You can see above, a picture of the master at work while she asks about and inspects some non la (rice field hats), my cousin/her husband/me aka dead weight at the market, and the beautiful ao dai fabric Co Mai bargained for me for a whopping $18 (it’s usually at least $90 in the states if not more). 

Today was a good day.

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Girls trip to Hue! The besties are on the road– and in the air. Both of my mom’s friends shared with us after we booked the trip, that it would be their first time on an airplane and they were all giddy like little kids.

They spent the day before getting their nails done, picking out shoes and consulting each other about outfits. Co Mai, who hardly contemplates what outfit to wear every day had a dress made for the occasion and her super sweet husband got her a new pair of shoes to go with it. Basically, this trip is like the Vegas trip of a lifetime but even better because it’ll include Bun Bo Hue (spicy beef noodle soup). They keep joking that the country bumpkins are going to the big city.

The night before was a classic sleepover party scene with all the ladies piled on the bed in their PJs talking about boys (their husbands) and giggling. We had to instate a curfew so we would be able to catch our 7:20 flight in the morning. It’s seriously a time warp with these three because when they’re together, time seems to be suspended and they’re just some carefree girlfriends. In the morning my mom made excellent use of her cosmetology degree and did their hair and make up. Co Mai says she never wears any but that when she does it makes her “yeu doi hon” or feel more passionate about life.

The trip was already worthwhile for me because of the plane ride. It was such a treat to experience flying through Co Mai who was glued to the window the whole time. Her main observations were that 1) it’s a lot smoother of a ride than the bus 2) clouds are the best 3) she couldn’t find her house when we took off. I’m so glad to see how excited she is about the trip. Both ladies get very carsick bc they’re used to motorbikes but did just fine on the plane! We took lots of sky pics so she can show her daughters.

Despite living in Vietnam, it’s their first times going to Hue so it’ll be as new for them as it is for my mom. I forget what a privilege it is to be able to travel– not just abroad but travel at all. Most folks here don’t ever ride planes and many live their whole lives without even visiting major cities within the country. Considering that Vietnam is about the size of California, it’s like living in the Bay and never visiting LA your whole life or ever even going further than San Jose.

Our connecting flight has been delayed several hours and there were some glitches with the tickets but we’re on our way and in good spirits. You can see them in the first pic trying to nap and being hella cute.

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First Thanksgiving without the whole family (and extended family), turkey, and other deliciousness but so much to be thankful for this year. 1) My family's health and stability, which has allowed my mom to take this trip. Just a few years ago, my mom couldn't even turn her head because of spinal issues that ultimately required some pretty invasive surgery. Now, she's able to take motorbike rides and sit on long plane rides to the other side of the globe. 2) The means and courage to quit my job and take this time off to travel. Like really, if that's not privilege then what is? Also, as a generally risk-averse person, I'm pretty proud of myself for taking the leap (and maybe turning a new leaf). 3) Banh xeo and coconut-avocado smoothies. 4) Being able to see my mom reunite with so many people who have welcomed us with so much warmth. It's seriously been like being on tour with a celebrity mom. 5) Having incredible family and friends back home who have been so supportive and encouraging about some of my riskier quarter life choices. I'm especially grateful for being a part of two different but equally amazing trifectas of besties who I only have to wait 1.5 months to see and not 35 years. Nonetheless, I'm hoping to have a belated thanksgiving dinner in January because I'm seriously feeling some FOMO with all this turkey and mashed potato pics splattered all over the interwebz.

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There’s so much to be said about Vietnamese hospitality and kindness. We often talk about how it’s hard for our parents or the older generation to express affection through words but the sentiment is so strongly felt in the actions here.

Not only have relatives and friends traveled hours by motorbike and bus to see us but they always come bearing endless quantities of food. The level of effort put into the countless homecooked meals since I’ve been here amount to even more effort than I’ve ever expended on all the meals I’ve ever cooked combined.

Banh xeo (crepes) stuffed with duck, homemade soy milk, bun rieu, banh canh, and banana cakes are just a few of what we’ve been gifted with. At the mention of any fruit or dish, it seems that it magically appears in front of us– so much so that we try not to talk about food because we don’t want people to go through the trouble of making it (even though they do anyways). The level of hospitality is best exemplified by the fact that we arrived during the peak rice harvest season, the busiest time of year and the most critical for everyone’s livelihood here, and yet we spend every moment of every day with friends who insist of stuffing us with homemade goodness.

Yesterday, a whole group took a day off (including Co Mai’s daughter who gleefully told her teacher she had a doctors appointment because her throat hurt) to take us to Ha Tien, a beach town with caves/pagodas that borders Cambodia. We rented a car for the day and bought insane amounts of fresh seafood that we grilled on the beach. Even when I was stuffed, everyone kept putting more food in my bowl. Every time we tried to pay for anything, we were scolded. The one meal we did manage to pay for, the next day Co Mai came over and snuck wads of cash into our toiletries in the bathroom. Haha I'm kind of used to the arguing over paying part from watching my relatives do it in he states but Co Mai (bless her sweet heart) took it to another level.

It’s a lot to take in and I feel overwhelmed by it all, knowing that everything is done with joy and not out of obligation or to put on airs. It’s really hospitality and generosity in the purest form. If nothing else, I hope I can learn from this and take some of that hospitable attitude back with me when I go home.

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The bestie reunion officially happened this week when my mom and I came to stay with her friend Tot in Kinh Nam a few km outside of their hometown. To be honest, I’ve been really worried about whether or not the reunion would pan out the way my mom has expected it to. It’s been so long, people change, I know my mom has, and there’s only so much you can know about someone by phone or video chat. I didn’t want her to be disappointed and felt like the protective mom– big time.

We were given the instructions to get dropped off in front of the market where Co Tot (auntie Tot) would meet us since her house is on a narrow path. When we got there it was such a surreal moment. Co Tot, whose name means “all things good,” totally froze. She and my mom just stared at each other for a time, as if in shock. My mom being my mom broke the silence and began squealing and hugging her and talking a mile a minute and Co Tot’s solemn face broke into an enormous grin. And like that, 35 years disappeared.

Those first moments entailed a lot of rapid fire chatter and I quickly learned that Co Tot and my mom are equally big talkers. There was a presentation of gifts where my mom showed her what she brought: 5 chewing gum, perfume, spam, BB cream, tiger balm, chocolate foot by the foot and a whole host of other things. Co Tot called the neighbor to bring a giant bowl of noodles to the door for each of us and gifted my mom a purple bedazzled shirt and a giant bag of fruits. Besties forreal.

This video was taken a minute after the trifecta was complete when Co Mai took the bus down from her neighborhood to Co Tot’s house. My mom always told me that Co Mai was the gentle, easygoing one while she and Co Tot were the troublemakers with the mouths. Co Mai doesn’t have internet at her house and would regularly take the bus down to Co Tot’s house just so they can video chat with my mom. She’s adorably chipper and sweet and has two dimples that always show because she’s constantly smiling. She tells me that they have been looking for my mom for years.

In the video, they’re laughing because when Co Mai came into the house she had a big hat and face mask to prevent inhaling street dust and my mom’s reaction was to shout “Hey Tot, why is this lady in your house?” It was all hugs and smiles. Being blunt is almost synonymous with being Vietnamese and so it was cute when Co Tot and Co Mai agreed out loud with each other that my mom is way cuter in real life than in her Facebook pics. They sat around talking about everyone they’re in touch with still from the village days. Occasionally they take turns going “Am I dreaming? Who would have thought this could ever happen.”

So much more the share about and so many warm fuzzies. To be continued!

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Selfies in the rice field! Haha as you can see, Mama Tran’s spirits are up today. I think that after some rest and the initial shock, she’s adjusting a bit better. It helped that yesterday’s rain made the rice fields look much greener and more familiar to her.

We made another visit to the graveyard to see my grandparents and her brother who’s also buried there. In the process we met some village people my mom grew up with who now live in Kentucky and are back here for a funeral. Two of their four children, who are now 30 and 35, are only just getting sponsored to the states later this year.

My mom’s friends sent their youngest two children with neighbors to flee the country when they were under 18 while they stayed back with the two older sons because they knew that children had better chances of getting political asylum than adults. I can't even imagine what it would take to send your youngest children with neighbors to escape the country by boat to an unknown fate. Those two kids luckily made it to the Midwest and when they could, they sponsored their parents to Kentucky. After the parents gained citizenship, they began a seven year process to bring over the two older sons so that they can all finally live in the same country for the first time since the 80s. The sons expressed some hesitation about whether their life would be as good in America since they’re all in the business of rice farming here. Not the most transferable skill. In the end, he concluded that he’ll give it a try because his parents will finally have the whole family together.

Diaspora is crazy, ain’t it?

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Writing to you tonight from the Me Kong Delta dehydrated and itchy laying under a mosquito net while listening to party animal neighbors singing off-key karaoke and reeking of tiger balm because everyone insists that’s the best thing to put on my massive bites. And that, my friends, is a proper run-on sentence.

Today was a big day. We took my mom back to her village and to meet her cousin, the only relative who still lives in Kinh Bay, which is so small it literally means river section number 7. As you can tell she’s still a motorbike newbie and is clutching the seat for dear life while sitting on a neck travel pillow but props to her for even getting on. About a week ago she wasn’t sure if she could cross the street bc of the motorbike traffic, but I digress.

It was a hectic time for us to come because her cousin is a rice farmer and this is peak harvest season. Still, Vietnamese hospitality being what it is we were greeted by their daughter in law who planned a list of meals like we were going to be here for months instead of a day and a half.

I think the experience has been a mixed bag for my mom in the same way that it was for my dad when he first went to his hometown. My mom seemed really disappointed that she didn’t recognize anything here anymore. People who recognized her she had a hard time recalling, her old house was torn down and nothing of the property looks the same, and she had to admit that she (we) missed some of the amenities she’s become used to in the States.

She left when she was 18 and she’s in her fifties now so, in many ways, it makes perfect sense. Still, it’s got to be strange to feel (and also be labeled) “too Vietnamese” in America for so long and then feel too American in Vietnam.

Despite the pictures she’s gotten over the years or the stories from others who go back, I think it’s hard to really let it sink in that the place of your childhood doesn’t really exist anymore until you see it for yourself. And when you do, it’s almost like those memories you’ve been sharing with your kids all these years might not be real anymore either. I’ll never really know how that feels but I imagine it’s like being forced to let go of old photographs you take out now and again when you miss the way things were and need some comfort.

It reminded me of how, four years ago, my dad said that the only two things he recognized in his hometown was the beach and an old ice factory. He didn’t want to go back again after that trip.

There were some really good moments though including my mom being a kid again and running into the street to enjoy the downpour (it’s rainy season here). We also completed one of the main missions of this trip when we visited her parents’ graves in the afternoon. It was incredibly emotional. They both passed away before she left Vietnam, her mother when she was less than ten and her dad when she was sixteen. Fittingly, we were drenched through and through by some intense rainfall while in the cemetery that was heavy even by Me Kong standards.

Some massive butterflies followed us to church, which was terrifying for me because I have a serious and inexplicable phobia of butterflies, but my mom’s cousin’s wife insisted it was my grandparents’ souls visiting my mom. I think she really liked hearing that.

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Today we got to do one of my favorite things in Viet Nam: watch a movie in theaters. I know what you’re thinking– you travel halfway around the world and that’s what's exciting to you?! Before you write me off as a total square hear me out.

Watching a movie in Viet Nam is like watching a movie with 200 complete strangers who somehow manage to do all of the quirky things your family does. And it’s usually annoying as hell when it’s your family but somehow it’s like the absolute best when it’s people you don’t know. For example, you’ve got:

(Note: potential spoiler alert if you haven’t seen Hunger Games yet (but for real, why haven’t you read the books already)??)

1) The aunt who is constantly five steps behind the plot line and needs to ask for clarification at every turn: (opening scene) “That Katniss… Why is she all raspy and sad at the doctors. Is this movie about throat cancer?”

2) The cousin who makes inappropriate and hilarious jokes. (Ending scene: “They crawl into bed for two minutes and all of a sudden they have two kids? Talk about fertile”)

3) The dad who starts dozing off and gets chastised by his spouse for wasting an expensive movie ticket

4) Aunt from #1 again every time someone is offed: “Is he dead? Did they get him?! Did they?!?!” and then asking what’s going to happen next like this isn’t your first time watching the damn movie too

5) The sibling that bursts out laughing during the most dramatic scenes especially when it involves ugly crying.

6) Collective gasps and “oh sh**!!” remarks every time something jumps out like that’s your hot boyfriend that the Hunger Game muts are about to rip apart.

Pretty sure we all got ab work outs from laughing non-stop. It was extra fun because we got to enjoy it all with my cousins two kids who came up to the city for the day. If only theaters here screened the Walking Dead. I’m thinking zombies would elicit some even more awesome reactions.

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Upon landing and getting our things without issue, we headed out of the airport and instantly were hit with the thick humidity. The first sight we see is a throng of faces, people waiting for relatives and friends to arrive. Just as I started to think it would be hopeless to find my cousin who had planned to meet us there, she appears out of nowhere looking as cute as ever (rhinestone top and heels of course because this is Saigon).

My mom hasn’t seen my cousin Chi Oanh since she was maybe 5 or 6 years old but I’m pretty sure she could pick her out of a line up any day. The Ha’s (my mom’s side) have notoriously high cheek bones and the gift (and on occasion, curse) of gab. I met her during my first trip for the first time and she just had a way of making me feel at home. Partly because she’s just warm but also because her mannerisms are so similar to my mom and her sisters.

There is seriously something to be said about genetics and personality because these two were peas in a pod– cracking signature Ha jokes about how the other person is good looking bc they share the same genes and incessantly chattering for about 5 hours straight.

After making our way over to the hotel with all 50 lb of spam intact, Chi Oanh’s daughter arrives with bags and bags of fruits from their hometown Dong Nai two hours away. They lugged over giant bags of jackfruit, custard apple, sapodilla, dragonfruit, coconut and other fruits I don't know the names of for my mom. How they managed to bring it all by motorbike is beyond me but they brought it because my mom had said that she was most excited to taste fruit she hadn’t had in over three decades.

Any exhaustion my mom felt was thrown to the wayside for the fruits and chit chat. It blows my mind to imagine finally being able to taste something you love after 35 years much less being reunited with family you haven’t seen for that long. Did I even need to write anything to go with this post? Look at her face in the last picture… We might not even be able convince her to go home after this.

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After several years, I thought it would be fitting to revive this thing for my trip to Viet Nam with my mom. Really, the bulk of this blog was used to document my very first time coming to Viet Nam 5 years ago so why not come full circle and let it be a space to document my mom coming back to her country of birth for the first time in 35 years? 

She actually never expressed any interest in going until I put up this blog and started sharing pictures on FB about my first trip to VN 5 years ago. For her, VN was a reminder of wartime, a past life, and lots of unknown. The journey as a refugee marred her memories of home. Besides, most of her family was in San Jose or had passed away. Something about seeing the pictures of her que (hometown) and familiar sights through her daughter stirred up a latent nostalgia and it's been on her mind ever since. 

But she still didn't go. The fear of travel was still there and the uncertainty of what she would find if she went. And then a little thing called social media again pried open the door of curiosity just a bit more. You see, a few months ago, my mom had been asking around about her high school best friend and tried to find her on Facebook. They spoke once on the phone years ago but lost touch. After her first foray into FB stalking, she was wildly successful and suddenly they were just high school girls again giggling via Skype and Tango catching each other up on the past 35 years. 

After months of agonizing and anxiety about whether she could handle the 19 hour trip bc of a previous neck injury, she did the damn thing! We bought the tickets, purchased some fashion crocs (I was skeptical initially but they have changed my life), I left my job and we boarded a giant plane with Hello Kitty cartoons plastered all over it (the woman needs to arrive in style). So insanely proud of her. 

This is her with two 50 lb boxes of gifts for her friends and relatives. Contents include requested items that range from canned Vienna sausages, spam, peanut butter, fruit snacks and vitamins because Amurkah. Stay tuned for what ensues!

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Some words to share! Shout out to my amazing mama. Definitely would encourage other API folks to join in our "Mother of All Stories" project and check out the blog for guidelines to submit a narrative about your mother. We want to collect as many types of stories out there because this Tiger mom thing just ain't working for us. 

Listening to Mama

BY CECILIA TRAN

The author and her mother after Vietnamese mass

My mama is the kind of person you hear before you see. As a painfully shy child, I was amazed at how she always had something to say. While I was struggling in my elementary school ESL classes, opting to sit through recess in silence, my immigrant mother was a chatterbox, gabbing away with the other parents, in her rough English.

“Oh, hi! I’m Bích, Cecilia mom,” she would say. “Like the pen: B-I-C, Bic. Nice to meeting you!”

By middle school, I’d moved on from ESL classes and successfully wiped away all traces of my own accent. I never said anything other than the occasional English correction under my breath, but I was embarrassed by my mama’s loud choppy sentences and her uninhibited use of Vietlish.

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