i wanted to say that my heart goes out to steph and her family. we are all thinking about you and praying for you.

i haven't written anything in ages because i've been hiding on my back porch. i'm not terrified to go out and experience 'america', i've just been enjoying sitting on the wicker chairs and staring out at the trees as they sway in the breeze. time seems to eek by when i'm sitting there. i don't have any worries but seem to worry about nothing. it ties my stomach up in knots.

the other day i was given tasks. my family has been wonderful about caring for me and respecting my situation. i was told to go out and get food for lunch.

i woke up after everyone went to work. what a luxury. i was feeling good about the day until i realized that i didn't have a car, i only had my bicycle that i used to use to commute to work two summers ago. the tires were flat and the seat had been lowered and i walked it to the bike shop.

at the bike shop, after an hour of walking with a backpack and feeling the rush of cars as they wooshed towards me and then sucked the air around me as they passed, i found a confusing array of bike pumps and locks. i spent thirty minutes choosing one, paying for it and then another thirty minutes trying to actually pump up the tires. i failed and had to push the bike back into the shop to have a friendly gentleman show me how much of a moron i really was. i thanked him and drove off to the supermarket.

i chained up my bicycle to a bike-rack that sat unused. there were hundreds of parking spots in the lot beside me and i parked in the bushes like an outcast.

pushing a shopping cart, i walked into the disturbingly cold store. i was confronted with a two hundred foot long lunch meat counter and thousands of vegetables and fruits to choose from. i walked around for about ten minutes not choosing anything, just looking at the selection. i walked and stared. i eventually called my brother, rachel and just about anyone else i could think of to feel more at ease. i talked about nothing. just hearing their voices made me more comfortable.

i finally escaped the vegetable section after about thirty minutes. i escaped with some lunch meat and some cheese.

i walked down every aisle. i spent the most time in the potato chip aisle looking at the different varieties of snack foods. low-salt, low-carb pretzels. salt and pepper chips. black corn tortilla chips. there were hundreds and hundreds of things to buy and i didn't want or need any of them but stood and looked at each. i fell in love with every other bag and its glamorous design.

i left two years ago and came back to everyone hating carbohydrates. there's low-carb everything and i never saw it coming. people used to hate fat, not they hate carbs and who knows what's next.

i left and felt a bit like i was home in vietnam. i had frozen pizza hanging from my left handle bar and bags of drink hanging from my right. my backpack was full of other odds and ends and i drove up and down lazy hills eventually gliding silently back up my driveway and feeling like i had finally made it. i conquered the supermarket. i bought the food and made it home in one piece. i smiled and walked back to the porch where i sat on the wicker chair and waited for my brother to come back. he smiled and said hello.

getting back in touch with my family at the beach. it's windy and cool and the water looks grey and blue like steel should. there are no birds, only loud cars and people walking by with no clothes on.

it's all distracting but family relations come first.

this group of people is where i come from, the stream of dna from which i was created. i owe them so much, and those who came before even more. i owe the dirt more and the sky even more.

i owe the root of it all the most.

last night i had a birthday party for me. that’s a partial lie. my mother helped buy the food.

me and mom finally had a day to spend together. i finally was able to sit next to her in the car and listen to her wisdom, glean from her experience. it was wonderful.

well, until she took me to costco.

costco, for those of you who aren’t familiar, is like a sam’s club. one must pay for a membership ($35, but you can share with people and you get a percent of your purchases back at the end of the year), walk into the giant warehouse pushing an obese cart and select food in bulk that is placed on pallets.

i was in charge of the cart. this was my birthday. i turned 24.

mom knew exactly what she wanted and walked off in the direction of the food. i stood near the door and watched a video about a new hot tub that you could buy that only weighed 75 pounds and was for less than $2000. you could put it in your bedroom, your lawn or probably even in the back of a pick-up truck. then there were televisions off to the side. they were huge. there were digital cameras. there was a sign that advertised buying new tires for your car while you waited. there were pimple-faced children selling hotdogs and pizza to fat people. there were piles and piles of shirts and pants. you could buy party trays of sushi. you could buy a 5 pack of ketchup. you could buy 500 plastic forks (we did). i decided that i could live in that warehouse for at least a year and a half and do so in great comfort.

i walked around and mom put up with me which was nice of her. i starred and almost had a little kid puke on me.

we left and drove home and prepared for the party. i went and got a new drivers license because it was my birthday. that and it was expiring the next day.

i stood behind some of the slowest people in the world who couldn’t answer questions about their current address and who couldn’t actually sign a piece of paper while staying within the lines. i had to wait an hour and people had picture after picture taken because they didn’t think they looked good enough or were disappointed at the quality of the picture or what not. it was a mess.

then there was a party and we stood around and talked about vietnam’s current cultural, economic and political state. it was a wonderful conversation and, the more i talk about vietnam to people over here, the more i understand about the place. i think it would be possible for me to return home and not take the time to really compare vietnam with my home. that transition would have been easier, but not as fruitful.

my head swims, but i smile.

this is the scene that greeted me upon my return home. this is placed right above the fireplace. i felt like i had already died.

it's only missing an urn.

today my lovely brother came home from working at the bank for a bite to eat. before he arrived, we talked on the phone and decided that we should eat mcdonalds. yes, we decided we should eat mcdonalds.

i haven't eaten mcdonalds in the last, count them, four years. since i've been back, i've eaten the most unhealthy things one can imagine. i've eaten cheese steaks, pizza on a number of occasions, fried mozzarella, jalapeno poppers, salad with too much dressing and now mcdonalds.

he came in and put the food down on the counter. he doesn't ever eat mcdonalds either and we stood there in his pressed shirt and tie and we both giggled like little boys again. there was one giant bag and two giant plastic cups of sugar water infused with gas. we were in america.

we opened the food. i was the hesitant recipient of one big mac and a large fry which was only partially filled. the big mac was the furthest thing from what food really is. i ate the whole big mac, a couple of the fries which were tasteless and only a bit of the sugar water infused with gas. the rest were sent to the landfill gods of new jersey.

we sat downstairs and began to feel the effects of our meal immediately. i started to breath oddly and my brother commented that it felt like his heart was fighting to survive.

i may not eat mcdonalds again for another four years.


my glorious lunch.

wal-mart.

i almost passed out walking through the aisles. there was so much junk i'll never want to buy. there were so many people sitting in the mcdonalds i stopped to stare.

it was like walking through a market in vietnam in the sense that there is just so much that one could purchase. one of the most striking differences, in my view, was that there were so few people selling. that makes for cheaper goods, but it also allows for a few rich people to pad their wallets.

i'm used to a place where hundreds of people have small stands making a living, altering what they sell to suit the needs of those who buy. i'm not used to a handful of people milling through aisles selling things that are not theirs.

every day i am shocked at how polite everyone is here. people walk around and say 'please' 'thank you' and anything else to lighten the mood and make us all feel special.

in a way, it all feels quite fake. the words are not used sincerely. people walk around and repeat the mantra that was beat into their heads as children.

i walk into a taco bell and ask for a taco and say thank you at least three or four times. i drive through a toll booth and say thanks to the man that is taking my change. why am i so polite with him? is he not just doing his job? am i thanking him for not stealing my money? for taking my money? for sitting in a small booth all day breathing in the exhaust of cars? why on earth would i be thanking him?

last night some people went to a performance at a gorgeous wood church. we sat and waited for the show to began and i had to stand up a couple of times to let the lady beside me pass through. i would always say, 'i'm sorry', or, 'excuse me' and didn't once mean it. the night digressed to the point where the man in front of me referred to a stranger as 'ma'am'. ridiculous. ma'am?

people are simply too polite. if i can walk into a 7-eleven and have the 300 pound man with a tattoo saying 'bumble nick' on his forearm to say thanks to me, i know i'm not in the right place.

i finally ran this morning.

there is space here and it scares me. the space is everywhere, anywhere you go, and it smothers you. there is too much space, too many places to stand and move. there are no people. i don't know where everyone went but there just isn't anyone around. this country is like a ghost town.

the beach was empty. well, there were a few people milling about and a few teenagers who were responsible to make sure no one drowned. i ran down the boardwalk into the wind.

running is not possible in vietnam. in the mornings, at about four thirty, many people go out to the main lake and go walking or do tai chi. i've only been out to the lake a couple of times in the morning and every time it is a huge crowd of people ambling around the small circle. the crowd is comforting, but you can't run.

i ran for the first time in a long time. my legs were stiff but i quickly found my old form. i ran into the wind as the ocean, to my right, beat the sand on the shore. i ran and the wind pushed my hair up and to the left. i ran and sweat poured down my face and i shivered.

i reached the end of the boardwalk and turned around. i paused for a moment and took in a couple sitting on a bench looking at the sea. they sat there at peace as my heart raced.

i ran home and my fatigue blocked out any thoughts of space and crowds. i was alone in my head as my body busied itself. i was alone and it didn't matter where i was.

too much space too few people no one staring.

in my short life, i have been privileged.

this afternoon i jumped in the car with my father and we headed for the jersey shore. we were going to bond, spend time together before i headed back to vietnam. we haven't had time to spend together as father and son for at least two years.

our relationship has grown and blossomed. when i was a child i jumped at anything he said. we never were able to get along because i could never understand why he was telling me what to do. i am now different. i now cherish the time i have with him and we sit over a cup of coffee and grin and joke about life, love and life again.

the two of us will spend the next two days watching people walk by and talking about what moves us. returning to this part of the world has taught me much about what makes me tick. i have jumped back into a world that was familiar but that i am having to interpret with eyes that are two years older. my eyes have aged.

the beach is beautiful. the water is flat and calm like the mekong. everything moves slowly here and giant cars hum by with their bright lights shining the way. everything is incredibly organized.

i like watching the ocean. the water laps on the shore and then cycles back to the depths only to return to the shore again and see it with new eyes, to feel it anew.

i drive down the roads here and things feel hyper-organized. the stop lights work on sensors. people stop at stop signs. everyone follows speed limits and there are cops everywhere. it doesn't make sense how anyone could have road rage here. there's nothing to be angry with except being bored.

i drive here and want to blow my horn. every time i see another car i want to blow the horn. i do not want to stop at lights but would rather blow my horn and plow through. i am afraid that others are not going to stop at intersections and always end up looking both ways even if i have a green light. honk.

i drive here and listen to the radio. i listen to the sports talk radio program because people argue and it's fun to listen to them argue.

of the time i listened to the show today, the people who called in and the hosts talked about the same five things over and over again. the phillies do not have enough depth at pitching. lary brown should have fouled shaq at the end of the nba finals game last night. the eagles are going to be good. who cares about the sixers. and so on.

they also had segments designed to flesh out the important issues in life.

they spent one hour trying to design the perfect woman. what is the one characteristic of a woman that is the most important? responses ranged from money to hygiene to physical attraction. they argued for an hour about something that no one could possibly agree on. really getting to the core of what life is about.

then there were the advertisements. every ten minutes there was someone yelling at me trying to get me to buy something. i was too fat. i wasn't cool enough and therefore didn't eat the right food or drink the right drinks. i was too stupid and therefore didn't invest here or apply for a job there. such ridiculous things as telling me i would be unique by drinking someone's beverage that was being advertises nationally. why do we all fall for this?

in vietnam i am also barraged by people trying to sell me things but it is of a completely different nature. people there will hawk their wares and they will do so aggressively. they, however, never play on my sense of self in order to have me buy something. 'you will be much more unique and cool if you eat this plump rice dumpling!' 'you will have all the women if you buy this lottery ticket!'

i'm really not sure which is more annoying or why we end up tolerating either.

and then there was japan.

i landed and it was raining. it was miserable. i stumbled off of the plane and walked towards customs. because i was going to stay for 12 hours, i was looking to find a transfer visa and then a bus to the hotel the airlines had booked for me for the day.

i asked people where to go. they smiled and pointed me in the right direction. i went through security. at the end the security guard said i was in the wrong place. i went through the temporary visa section. at the end the lady told me i was in the wrong place. i went through the another visa line and eventually made it out of the airport after two hours of haste.

i waited for the bus in a small box painted on the sidewalk next to a giant sign that said '25'. there were upwards of 30 some busses that took people to different hotels and everyone stood in painted boxes. there were signs that said, 'NO HAWKING OR CALLING TO TAXI CARS. IF YOU HAWK OR CALL TO TAXI YOU WILL BE FINED.'

i fell asleep in the hotel room after setting the alarm next to the bed. the alarm didn't wake me up and i ended getting up one hour before the boarding of my plane. i panicked. i ran out of the room, forgot some of my clothes and hawked and called for a taxi. i boarded the plane shaking, minutes before it took off.

12 hours in one chair is ridiculous. there are only so many positions you can sit in.

i arrived in new york. i slowly made my way through customs and found myself facing a long, empty hallway. there were no more inspections and i was free to leave. i walked down the hall slowly, not knowing what to expect. i turned a corner and could see a mass of people gathered outside of a giant glass wall. i scanned the audience and found my parents standing next to the railing. my father was taking pictures. my mother was smiling and my brother's eyes were beautiful and huge. i ran to meet them and we hugged. we stood there and i didn't cry.

we eventually found out way out of new york city and drove down giant roads full of giant cars and trucks arriving home late at night. everything was fine and i felt normal.

i walked in the house. i walked up the steps. i was walking into a museum of my previous life. i was walking into a world that had remained silent in the back of my memory for the last two years. i walked into this peaceful place and was bombarded by memories. there were pictures everywhere. i walked into my room. there were books everywhere. each book brought back the memory of reading it. each picture on the wall brought back the event. there was just too much. i didn't have any idea how to take it all in.

i laid down on my old bed and cried into the pillow. i remember saying, 'i just don't know where i am', over and over again.

in a way, i'm just pathetic. inside, i'm just tired.

my last day in ho chi minh city for a while. it all feels strange.

i came up to the big city on one of the school's vehicles. in that vehicle i met two wonderful women who had been born in vietnam and had lived in america for the past twenty odd years. they were working with an ngo on some quite important development projects.

upon arrival in ho chi minh city, they asked me if i wanted to eat lunch with them. i didn't have anything to do from about 11:00 am until midnight when i get on my plane and i gladly accepted their invitation. we went out to eat and talk about the world. while we were eating we happened to meet some people who had worked directly with the american/vietnam catfish problems that were spawned by farmers in the mississippi delta. this chance meeting was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

in california there are about two million ethnic vietnamese. they have quite a tight knit community and i know very little about it all. these two worlds came together and i sensed the opportunities that could possibly arise if i would learn more about life in california. i might plan a trip out there upon my return.

on a different note: this city scares me.

i entered their hotel. it was beautiful. i went up to the top floor and looked out over the city from beside the pool filled with europeans in skimpy shorts and bloated bellies. i walked around and starred. i gawked. i had to go outside and chat up a taxi driver to feel comfortable again.

my two new friends also chided me about how vietnamese i really was. they said my english had turned into a hybrid language. it is slow, clear and full of references to vietnamese words and culture. i pronounce american cities and names with vietnamese accent.

there's a character people talk about in vietnam, he's a mixture between mythology and reality, whose name is 'chu hai lua'. he is from a very rural area, like where i teach, and he doesn't know anything about city life. there are a number of stories about his life which all revolve around him coming up to the city and doing silly things or not understanding how things work.

i'm not there at all but my two friends kept joking that i was truly 'chu hai lua'. also, to make matters worse, vietnamese people here joke that i am 'chu hai lua' because of my strong southern accent.

tonight i can eat just about anywhere i could want. of course i couldn't go to a diner and order a weak cup of coffee and a greek salad, but i could go to a pizza place, or get indian food, or thai or korean or anything but i'm really not hungry for any of them. all i really want is a nice bowl of vietnamese soup or maybe some grilled beef. i don't understand. i used to crave the foods i could get up in ho chi minh city just a few months ago.

agh.

maybe this is all nothing. it's probably just in my head. i mean, how many people have spent a good deal of time in a foreign country without ever heading home. how many people have spent two years in a rural area immersed in a culture that is diametrically different from western culture. how many people have worked in this culture, had close friends in this culture and adapted completely only to return home. thousands. millions. this is nothing. this is a walk in the park.

i will go home, walk off the plane and be normal. i will sit in a restaurant and not spit on the floor. i will not touch other people in tactile ways. i will not be shocked by traffic. i will not be shocked by the size of americans. i will not be shocked at people's questions. i will not be shocked by...

so, that's where i am. i'm sitting in what feels like a very opulent internet cafe about to walk aimlessly around this place which feels so familiar and yet i feel so out of place. i feel like i do not belong here and i do belong here. there is such a duality to this experience. i have, on the one hand, had to adapt to this culture. in doing so, i have become a part of this place. i care about this place so i want to be a part of it. i want to be accepted here.

on the other hand, i will never be accepted here. i am not vietnamese and i never will be. i cannot understand the culture. i cannot feel the culture. i can sense it, perceive it and experience it but i will never be it.

on the third hand, i am not as american as i was before i came over here. in leaving my culture, i have missed out on a great deal. i have not experienced all you have back in the states for the past two years except through emails, internet news and the occasional western visitor.

however (no more hands), i also feel like i've learned a great deal about my culture. after having learned about this place, i now feel comfortable making more solid comparisons about how things work for us back home. so, in some ways, i feel like i understand my culture more than ever.

nonsense.

my last night in long xuyen. it all feels so final. there have been so many parties, so many people to visit and shake hands with. i am tired. it is almost midnight. i leave tomorrow at six in the morning.

tonight i made sure my schedule was free. the last five or six nights have been full of various parties with various people that have various important positions. it has been hectic. there was even a party for me this afternoon with one of my classes.

tonight it was time for me to eat and smile with the other foreigners in long xuyen. we did what we wanted to do.

instead of sitting around a table and being formal, we went to a very low-class goat restaurant which has the most delicious goat curry human kind has ever sampled. we sat around the plate and ate together. we shared bread and dipped it in the spicy sauce. we talked for hours.

after the goat place we went to karaoke. i absolutely love karaoke and we sang with abandon. we sat on plush plastic sofas and shouted and danced and twirled around to the music. it was a beautiful moment. at the end of it all, i sang a vietnamese song that was very patriotic. i said goodbye to the city and headed home early feeling a bit emotional.

i drove my motorcycle for the last time down the dark streets of long xuyen. half way home the sky opened up and drenched everyone. i drove down the road with my eyes barely open and my headlight barely working as the rain poured down. i shivered and the drops stung. it felt like the sky was mourning my leaving. none of this, actually, was true. the storm had been brewing over cambodia for the past week.

before i went home i promised some people i would stop by and say good bye. i sat for a half of an hour and ate turtle soup. it was delicious.

i returned home and was greeted by my dog. we talked for a bit and he listened. he’s a thinking dog.

i then started to pack. i haven’t packed yet for my trip home. i’ve had quite a busy schedule and packing wasn’t a priority but i wonder if i just was putting it off to the last moment. after all, when you pack you really are going somewhere. to simply have a ticket in your drawer doesn’t mean a thing. to have your bags sitting behind you on a neat pile and your clothes that you will wear tomorrow sitting on a chair means that you will be leaving soon.

i packed solemnly.

my last night in long xuyen. it all feels so final. there have been so many parties, so many people to visit and shake hands with. i am tired. it is almost midnight. i leave tomorrow at six in the morning.

tonight i made sure my schedule was free. the last five or six nights have been full of various parties with various people that have various important positions. it has been hectic. there was even a party for me this afternoon with one of my classes.

tonight it was time for me to eat and smile with the other foreigners in long xuyen. we did what we wanted to do.

instead of sitting around a table and being formal, we went to a very low-class goat restaurant which has the most delicious goat curry human kind has ever sampled. we sat around the plate and ate together. we shared bread and dipped it in the spicy sauce. we talked for hours.

after the goat place we went to karaoke. i absolutely love karaoke and we sang with abandon. we sat on plush plastic sofas and shouted and danced and twirled around to the music. it was a beautiful moment. at the end of it all, i sang a vietnamese song that was very patriotic. i said goodbye to the city and headed home early feeling a bit emotional.

i drove my motorcycle for the last time down the dark streets of long xuyen. half way home the sky opened up and drenched everyone. i drove down the road with my eyes barely open and my headlight barely working as the rain poured down. i shivered and the drops stung. it felt like the sky was mourning my leaving. none of this, actually, was true. the storm had been brewing over cambodia for the past week.

before i went home i promised some people i would stop by and say good bye. i sat for a half of an hour and ate turtle soup. it was delicious.

i returned home and was greeted by my dog. we talked for a bit and he listened. he’s a thinking dog.

i then started to pack. i haven’t packed yet for my trip home. i’ve had quite a busy schedule and packing wasn’t a priority but i wonder if i just was putting it off to the last moment. after all, when you pack you really are going somewhere. to simply have a ticket in your drawer doesn’t mean a thing. to have your bags sitting behind you on a neat pile and your clothes that you will wear tomorrow sitting on a chair means that you will be leaving soon.

i packed solemnly.

i have sent many emails out in the past few days but i don’t think they were received. i also expected some emails that i never ended up getting.

the word is here that some server in hong kong is broken and therefore some of the emails from vietnam are not leaving.

if i was to send you an email and you didn’t get it, sorry. if you were to send me one, i probably didn’t get it.

last minute details, nothing going smoothly, only one more night in long xuyen and i'll skirt my way up to ho chi minh city.

i want to see everyone and they all want to see me. we talk melodramatically about my departure and the two months i will be away. we sit and drink coffee and try to think of things to say. the coffee cup ends, we stand up, shake hands and leave.

'at the beginning of august!'

i normally say something like that.

i'm having to say goodbye to some things that are quite important.

i'll have to say good bye to jack and julie. they're two other foreigners who teach here and they have been wonderful supports. i think we all support each other in our own special little way. by bringing three people together from three different subsections of western culture (northern england, north western us and east coast us), and placing them in an island that is basically void of anything they would term familiar you end up creating a fascinating group of relationships. how would these three relate? we eventually find things that we have in common, talk about them, talk about them again, occasionally mention the things we don't have in common, talk about them but no one really understands, and then move on to gossip about life here.

i will say good bye to them and, for all the times that we've rubbed each other the wrong way, i truly valued their friendship and their support.

i will have to say goodbye to my vietnamese friends here. i have a number of them, some closer than others, and i will have to tell them all goodbye for two months. i will miss the endless cups of coffee, the cafe haze and zipping around town on my motorbike with them ridding next to me sometimes grazing my hand and always talking.

i will miss work. i am respected for my work. i have moved up and into the office and have been working on projects that matter, that impact. i love the feeling of doing something that will impact. finally, after 23 years of idealism, i can actually say that i have helped people in a substantial way (!).

i will miss the food. right now i want nothing more than a trip to a mexican restaurant and the words, 'jon, choose whatever you want', to fall out of the mouth of the person who will pay the bill. however, after these two months, i'm sure i'll end up missing the endless bowls of plump, steaming rice and noodles and pork and fish sauce and everything else that makes my stomach turn since i've been here.

i will miss my dog. he is currently laying on the bed in front of the fan with his head on his paws watching me type. he has been something that, in a place that can sometimes feel lonely, offers unconditional love. when i had a bad day it was magical to come home to his wagging tail and his shaking paw to greet me at the door. i will miss him.

i will miss the motorcycle. i will miss zooming, no, roaring down narrow streets weaving in and out of groups of people, turning into masses of motorcycles coming the other direction only to have them all skirt out of the way at the last moment.

i will miss much more. i still have to pack.

it’s five in the morning and i can not sleep. i tossed and turned for the last few hours and made lists in my head of what i had to do. i spent the few hours before that in a strange state somewhere between fully conscience and fully dreaming. i was in a frustrating dream playing chinese chess with someone and yelling at them. i woke and sauntered out here, kicked the coffee table, gritted my teeth, sat down at the computer and decided to write something.

the dog isn’t sleeping with me tonight so i’m lonely. normally he cuddles against one of my legs next to the fan. in the middle of the night he wakes up, stretches, pauses to clean himself, and goes back to bed.

he greets me at the door every time i come home by wagging his tail, licking my hand and, most hilariously, putting his paw in the air over and over again as if he’s trying to shake with me. he also tries to shake after you punish him. he shakes for everything.

i am going to miss him when i go home.

well, i guess i’ll get dressed, have a freezing cold shower and go find some breakfast.

maybe i'll have rice today. again.