Wow it has felt like its been ages since I've been able to write in my blog. The last three days have been quite the experience and I made the decision out of exhaustion (more on this later) and for the sake of thinking over the past events these last days for more clarity. This entry will cover the events of last Saturday, the day I returned to meet an ecstatic wave of family members wishing me an amazing birthday - and indeed it was.
I slept well that night, despite being overcharged with sugar from the birthday party with the children. Before I went to bed my brothers gifted me with a sea shell necklace and also wrote me a letter about how thankful they were for my kindness to them. I now keep those items safely tucked into my suitcase to look and shed a tear over when I fly back (I've always shed some tears returning from a remote world). Today was another cloudy day, with slight interruptions of rain outside. Despite having about three sets of clothes to wash, I decided instead to go around the center to see what the children thought of the party.
All of my brothers loved it, saying that it has been ages since a birthday party has been done at the center. In Vietnam, my brothers tell me, people normally do not celebrate birthdays with parties or anything. Its just another day in life. I went down to the house of all the younger children to ask them what they thought. "We loved it, especially all the candy!" said Chinh, one of the younger boys in primary school. I asked them if they finished all the candy that they took home and they responded a shake of their head, saying that they wanted to save it up (they actually finished all the candy two days later). "Did you enjoy the party Ben" asked Hien, one of the older girls in high school who lives with the younger children. "Of course, it was great to see you all of you so happy" I replied with a smile. And so I walked around, chatted, kicked around a deflated soccer ball. It was about seven in the morning.
Shortly after, I walked back to my rooms and packed for my trip back home to my village. But before I was to even set foot back in Hai Nhuan, the director had invited me and my uncle to join her and her daughter for breakfast. With that in mind, I grabbed my helmet, sunglasses, and my camera from my room and waited outside for my uncle to join me. Rolling up in his red motorbike and his shiny black glasses, he waved me over and we set off, riding back into the city. "See you soon!" I cried out to all the children as we buzzed past them down to the entrance of the center. I did not return until five hours later. It was a long and enlightening five hours.
The sprinkle of the rain amidst the wave of heat made for an interesting ride over the cafe, which attached to a library, peering over a beautiful river. Me and uncle had finally brought some face masks to protect ourselves from the pollution and debris that we would be in contact with while outside the center (nearly everyone uses them). We at last made it to the bookstore/cafe about twenty minutes away from the center. While my uncle called Mrs. Hong to let her know we arrived, I glimpsed around the area, looking out at the glistening river and small boats sailing back and forth on the waters. Our waitress poured us some ice tea and I peered over the extensive menu of drinks at the cafe. I was impressed. A smoothie in Hue has usually come to around a dollar and other specialty drinks usually come around there, unless it has some out-of-season ingredients. Both Mrs. Hong and her daughter came up dressed in bright summer dresses, despite the rainy weather. We decided to eat inside and so we moved on into the air conditioned cafe.
We had a great breakfast, all ordering specialty drinks and chatting about different things. I bought myself a book on learning Vietnamese and a dictionary (finally). While at the cafe, I noticed an American man talking with a Vietnamese woman about a table away. I could not help but over here their conversation, as it had been a while since I heard constant English conversation from someone other than myself. The man was talking about his view of Hue and what he thought of the Vietnamese people. There was one line that really got my attention: "You know what I've seen from the elites here in Vietnam?" the man said to the woman, "these rich, rich Vietnamese people think of themselves as lower than the Vietnamese people who either marry someone from the outside or are able to find a way out of Vietnam." I laughed a bit on the inside, having heard this idea very often from many people I've talked to Vietnam. To be honest, the most attractive thing about the outside is the idea that you can make much more money than you can in Vietnam (which is certainly true seeing as how average income is around one hundred dollars a month; a figure I received from some of the older children at the center). But once the Vietnamese from the outside realize how difficult and complex it is to live in another country, they soon learn that it is hard everywhere, and it's not just the exchange rate or the GDP of an economy that determines how great life is there. We finished up our breakfast chat and set off to go off to a grand opening of a new coffee shop in Hue (of a friend of Mrs. Hong).
"Do you know who that man was?" asked my uncle, "he is the director of an organization just like Mrs. Hong that raises orphans and gives them jobs in the city." No way. Now it makes sense why we went to that particular cafe. I was told by my uncle that the employees of the cafe were all orphans of the particular organization that the American man currently directs. Very interesting. We finally pulled up to the new coffee shop, instantly greeted by cute Vietnamese girls dressed up Ao Dai, a traditional dress normally worn by Vietnamese youth. The owner invited us in and our group sat in the back of the new cafe. I learned a lot during the hour that we stayed at the cafe.
While sipping my latte and slowly working away all the french pastries at the table, a Vietnamese-American man pulled up to our table to talk to the owner of the cafe and Mrs. Hong. This man was a lawyer and lived in California. I couldn't help but over hear their conversation about making business in Hue and Vietnam in general. "Opening a cafe isn't easy," the man said, "you got to take ownership of your business and make sure you can stay afloat in this economy." Recently, Vietnam's economy has gone through double digit inflation and opening a cafe, among the myriad of cafes throughout Vietnam can be a little risky, especially if little research is done. My uncle told me that in order for this shop to make decent money, it had to make around three hundred dollars a day, which translates to about six million Vietnamese Dong. Wow. That is actually quite a bit of money to run a business I thought. The rent per month was around fifteen hundred dollars and all the other fees amounted up to about two thousand to three thousand dollars in total to run the store. Not quite as easy as I thought. They went on to talk about the paint, the set up, the types of foods offered, and business strategies. I couldn't help but feel a little worried for the owner, seeing as he was sweating bullets trying to defend himself from the criticism of Mrs. Hong and our guest. My uncle even chipped in a few comments to try to aid in the situation, while I listened in and looked around the cafe. When we at last finished we went over to a restaurant, specializing in barbequed meats, and ate a hearty lunch. At last, me and my uncle Duyet rode back to the center to pick up my things to go back to my home village.
My birthday party at my village was scheduled to be at around five o'clock. I arrived with my uncle after an hour and a half's ride at around four or so, greeted by many of my family members cooking and setting up for the party. "Come see your birthday cake and roast pig Ben!" yelled my Grandfather's housemaid. Wow. The cake was nice, but they bought an entire roast pig (about one hundred and fifty dollars) for the party. I played around with the little children, who all were eager to eat the cake and all the candy I brought back for them to eat. I showed them my photos from the center and chatted with them for a while. I walked around my grandfather's house, looking at my aunts cooking various dishes and answering waves of questions about my week and about my birthday at the center. As the long hour rolled by (time slowed down a lot back in the village), people coming to join the party just kept coming in to what seemed like about eighty people or something. It was quite the birthday celebration to say the least.
After greeting everybody that came, talking to some of my grandfather's older and younger brother, and helping set up in preparation for the feast to come, I was summoned up to the front of the crowd to deliver a small speech and blow the lights off all the candles, signifying a day of happiness and joy. All the little children crowded around the cake near me, talking amongst themselves about how hungry they were for sweets and what not. It was cute. I at last sat down near my grandfather, doing the honors of giving him the first slice to eat, and also giving a toast to the crowd for the birthday. Not only was the food amazing (I cannot say enough how amazing food from home is), but the feeling of happiness and liveliness of all the participants was heart warming and kept me satisfied throughout the whole party, despite being tired from being unable to nap earlier in the day. At last I was able to distribute cake and candy, and all the children flooded over to me, and my uncle Phong, who decided to help me distribute candy and chips. The whole event lasted about three hours or so and some of my closer family members even stayed past that, while I decided to go swim in the beach.
The rest of that day was nothing but serenity. Laying amongst the sand and looking up at the sky, I thought long and hard about the last two days. Two birthdays, loads of sugar in my system, and happiness on the faces of many people. I couldn't help but laugh to myself. I trudged into the waters and cleansed my body of its stress, eventually walking back to my grandfather's house to shower and set up for a good night's sleep. It was a sweet, sweet sleep.
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