It's raining in Saigon

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Trip Start May 18, 2005 Previous
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  Saigon, Vietnam
Sunday, June 12, 2005

I'm losing track of time, but I do know who I am and where I am. Some internet problems, also. So I'm writing for several days here - beginning with Saigon. It rained each of the several days we were in Saigon. Sprinkling for 30 minutes or an hour in mid/late afternoon, then raining hard for 30 minutes or an hour, and then steady rainfall for an hour or two. Very nice. Next was written on the train from Saigon to Danang. A khrama is a scarf worn by Cambodian men and women. Karma is cause and effect.

Vietnamese lady sharing our 4 bed compartment. She looks like a grandmother and has her 3-4 year old granddaughter with her saying goodby. Another woman also in the compartment, maybe the lady's sister. They are both crying - I see David hand the other lady a kleenex. The little girl is eating, not crying. Now there is a young woman and a young man in the doorway. On the platform outside the window is a woman wearing a conical Vietnamese hat, standing partly behind a column in the shadows, crying and waving. Periodically, the little girl looks up and sparkles at one of us. The woman on the platform comes to the window and now backs away. I'm wondering who will go and who will stay.

The women and the little girl leave the compartment. The train starts moving. Ahh, the little girl's pink shoes are on the floor of the compartment. I guess they are finding their own space for awhile. Now I'm all teary-eyed too. 15 minutes into the trip the lady comes back into the compartment with the little girl. The lady is crying and girl is eating.

Being back in VN, so far, gives me joy seeing the strength of these people - tough customers, for sure.

Train1

Extravagant beauty, land and people. I feel sad for all the suffering of every one of us who was here during the war. The Vietnamese know about suffering. Thao Dam said to me once in his quiet, measured voice, "They suffer silently."

It's late. The little girl is crying inconsolably, sobbing, choking, whimpering. I drift off to sleep.

In the morning ...
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing
fresh from the world

Rice porridge with a little meat and onion for breakfast. Tabasco, I have it! We pass the bottle around. The lady digs the Tabasco. Back in my bunk. The coffee guy comes down the passageway. Cafe sua da - strong and sweet on ice. Could it be any finer than this?

The green of Vietnam, so intense, passing by my window ...
Praise with elation
Praise every morning
God's re-creation
of the new day

Tears running down my cheeks. I've been waiting a long time. Wiping the tears away with the khrama given to me by my friend, Lance puts my tears into perspective. How many tears have been wiped away by khrama? Oh, beautiful sad lady at Chhoeun Ek.

Sunday ... we're in Hoi An today. Town close to empty today because of holiday related to ancestors. Many homes with altar set up in entranceway, flowers on the curbs, incense set into holes in concrete or dirt around trees, a little candy strewn on sidewalks and streets. Few restaurants are open, except for expensive tourist places.

Train2

We find a place serving three things: Rice with pork, pork skin, and fried egg on top OR rice with pork and pork skin OR Rice with pork - all with tomatoes and cukes. We had the works.

David and I rented bikes and rode the ~4 kilometers to the beach, which answered the question of where everybody was. There was a huge throng of people coming and going to the beach. The beach was packed, sand clean, water cool - perfect. The last time I swam in the Pacific was about 30 miles up the coast during my 2 days at China Beach. Good to be back.

Mostly families on the beach. Women swimming in what we always called their pajamas - which is what they look like. Nice PJs. Children in the surf, sand castles, teens promenading. On the way out just at sunset, something extraordinary happened.

We walked to where the beach and road intersect and I put on my shoes, thinking to wear my damp swim suit back to the hotel (I already had on my shirt). Two young men and a young woman stopped me and indicated that I should put on the trousers I was carrying. I didn't want to as I didn't want to be completely damp and sandy. They were insistent, very pleasant, almost concerned. I think they thought I was wearing undershorts. So, I put on the trousers and one of the young men tucked my shirt in for me. They were very satisfied. We exchanged our mutual 3-4 words of Vietnamese and English and David and I left.

As we pedaled back toward the town in the evening and in this amazing throng of bicycles and motos (like you see in photos), I realized that this act of kindness toward what they saw as an uninformed foreigner (can't argue with that) was a perfect counterpoint to acts of kindness on my part to refugees and immigrants. It was as if they cancelled all the karma built up over the years and I was set free! I know, good karma is good, but no karma is, well, what can I say, nirvana. So here I am, glad that it's dark so nobody can see the foreigner pedaling, smiling, crying up the road. Free, free!

Of course I'm busily accumulating yet another load of karma.

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Train3 looking out the window

Train4

Train5 No Strange Substances

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