When I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, I was immediately overwhelmed by the cultural contrast it posed to the blissful calm of Thailand. The streets buzzed with whirring flocks of motorbikes weaving through seas of traffic; food carts simmering large pots of broth for Phở; indistinguishable calls from sellers of clothes and trinkets and lotteries tugging at my ears. I felt shaken, anxious... Yet, I loved this new energy and the promise it held. It was apparent that there was much complexity to be found in the characters and history of this society.
One of the first things I did was visit the War Remnants Museum. Although perhaps one-sided- it was formerly named the Museum of Chinese and American War Crimes- it is dedicated to exposing the gruesome brutality that occurred during the Vietnam War. With disturbing photographs displaying U.S. atrocities and horrifying images of innocent children and civilians affected by bombs, napalming, and dioxin defects... It was a sobering experience to say the least. I walked out of the building feeling horrified for the people of Vietnam; feeling petty anger towards my American friends; and, extremely grateful for the privilege to live life the way I do, with the immaculately functional body that I possess.
I started to look at Vietnamese citizens with eyes full of sympathy but also, for them, extreme pride. Although there are certainly still marks of destruction, within fourty-one years they've quickly transformed their distraught world into this crazy, bustling city, packed with buildings of all shapes and sizes, and businesses filled with hard working people. I find it impressive and inspiring for mankind.
On my last of my three nights here, I met a German girl who had earlier been approached by some Vietnamese university students, asking for help in practicing English. She introduced us and I had the pleasure of meeting some of these students. Exchanging language lessons with these bright young people inspired me to continue opening myself to unfamiliar people; to receive further understanding in other human beings. In particular, I want to share a conversation with a student named Sơn.
Sơn is 23-years-old and has been avidly teaching himself English for the past three or four years. He has dreams of studying abroad and eventually opening his own business in Vietnam to contribute his own bout of change. With that, he believes that learning another language opens one to understand the bigger world and its multi-cultured people. It is not enough for Sơn to know only his language and his culture; he does not want to live his whole life constricted to one point of view. He tells me that many people in Vietnam have the desire to learn English but have difficulty finding good resources to do so. In fact, his high school English teacher could barely speak English, herself. But Sơn has found a way to effectively learn English by himself and now helps his peers learn as well. It really touched me and inspired me to meet a person with such beautiful curiosity and zeal for life and the world.
Later in the evening I asked Sơn what he thinks of the war, and how it affects his present country and its people. He tells me with great passion that there is no point in dwelling in the past, or holding grudges against a country's people. Americans, Vietnamese, all people, are equals and should be treated as such. Who you are in this moment is who you are, and we should all see each other as just that.
Now, when I think about Vietnam and its people, I don't see urban chaos or destruction from the past. I see this beautiful forgiveness and message of letting go to advance only in what is present.