I returned recently from a month in Vietnam, my first trip there. Most of my time was spent in a retreat--I'll write more about that later--but I had time and opportunity to explore a bit of the country as well.

I went there with my mind filled with preconceptions--most having their origin in my childhood memories of TV coverage of the war there--and returned with new, and much, much brighter impressions. Of course, my impressions live in my mind only, not in reality, wherever that is. There must be so much I missed seeing, and so much I've gotten wrong. Nevertheless, below are excerpts from a few emails I sent home to family, describing what I encountered. I've also posted some photos.

July 15:
I'm happily settled in our lovely retreat center, as of yesterday
afternoon. It's a stunning location--nicer than the photos, actually.
I had thought it might feel a bit too polished and posh, but it does
not. We just finished dinner on an outdoor patio, overlooking the
beach, sea, and offshore islands. As we ate, the local fishing fleet
was putting to sea, so we could see the lights of the boats heading
out across the water like big, slow fireflies. I started today with
some languid barefoot walking on the beach, and tomorrow is likely to
start similarly. It's a wonderful, peaceful setting to spend a month.

I'm so taken with Vietnam, as are the other retreatants here. I just
shared stories of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City, but everyone seems to use
the old name) with a French friend over dinner. My Seattle friends and
I had had just an afternoon to see a bit of the city, but its
endearing spirit came across to us even in that short time. My party
rented a car and driver to tour for the afternoon. Everywhere you
drive in that city, you are in a sea of motorbikes, bicycles, and
pedicabs, all skillfully sharing the road, usually with only inches to
spare. And so you see human vignettes everywhere you look: the man on
a motorbike with a refrigerator strapped to his back; the family of
four, all balanced gracefully on one small motorbike; the son
chauffeuring his gray-haired mother, also by motorbike; the very
fashionable, poised young woman driving her motorbike with great
skill, despite her high stiletto heels, the flower saleswoman so
loaded down with bouquets that it took a few seconds to realize that
she was riding a bicycle, not a motorcycle...We visited three temples,
two Buddhist and one Hindu, and the heartfelt, dignified faith of the
people making their prayers was so evident.

My French friend, on the other hand, visited the tunnel system that
the North Vietnamese had dug around the city, and was stunned by the
huge system--many layers, extending for many dozens of miles--all
excavated by hoes and baskets. People lived in it for many months at a
time, shoulder to shoulder, existing on a diet of boiled manioc and
tea. She was struck by the utter determination and cleverness of the
people who had built the tunnel system, lived in it, and fought in it.

July 19:
All is still well here on the coast of
Vietnam (!). Life has settled into a lovely routine that includes both
workshop sessions and simply enjoying this beautiful location. I tend
to get up early, since the sun rises about 5:30 am. Yesterday, I rose
at about 4, and walked up the hillside above the retreat center to a
nice overlook. There, I watched the light slowly come up in the world:
the dark silhouettes of islands took on form, as did the little
fishing village near the center. I watched fishermen going back and
forth to their boats in little basket boats--round woven baskets that
hold 2 - 3 people and are propelled by a single oar. Dad would have
loved to watch them! Eventually, the sun itself rose out of the sea as
a big red disk, and then I walked down the hillside to the beach and
went for a swim before breakfast and the beginning of the workshop for
the day.

August 7:
I have a few free minutes right now, so I thought I'd
send you a news update. I'm at the retreat center near Quy Nhon right
now; we've been doing a workshop session this morning. This afternoon,
a small group of us will visit a private orphanage near here. This
orphanage was begun by a local man 17 years ago when he saw a need to
help young orphans, especially disabled people, learn job skills. Most
of the orphans are between 9 and 14 years old; some became disabled by
exposure to Agent Orange. We learned some of the basic information
about the orphanage from three people from our group who paid a short
visit there last week; one of those people is a social worker from
London who was interested in seeing social work projects in this area
and a retreat center staff member suggested a visit to this orphanage.
We've all contributed a few hundred dollars, which we'll give to the
orphanage director this afternoon. We'll stop at the supermarket in
town before our visit, to pick up some treats for the kids. It should
be an interesting visit in many ways.

Since I last wrote a few days ago, I've been in and near the retreat
center, mainly involved in workshop activities, but enjoying other
things as well, including a brief outing to town last Sunday, when we
were invited to visit Quy Nhon's main pagoda. I'm learning that in
Vietnam, a pagoda is not a single building, but a Buddhist
monastery/temple complex (generally Zen Buddhist). We were invited to
listen to the monks chanting. When we arrived, we settled quietly in
the back of the main worship hall, behind the regular congregation
members, who chanted along with the monks. After the chanting, which
was lovely, a young monk who speaks good English helped us to have a
question-and-answer discussion with the vice-abbot, who explained the
basics of Buddhist practice to our group and invited us to the
meditation hall for a basic introduction to meditation. We moved over
to the meditation hall and first practiced sitting. At this point, I
think the monks were surprised to find that most Westerners can't
readily settle into cross-legged position on the floor. For them, the
lotus position--cross-legged with one foot on top of each thigh--comes
naturally. (I can comfortably sit crosslegged on the floor, but only
with the help of a pillow, so I sat in the prescribed position, but
with my legs slowly going to sleep.) The vice-abbot then talked
everyone through the proper hand position for Zen meditation (right
hand cupped in left with thumbs touching). One of the monks helped me
to get my hand position exactly right, to the great interest of the
various members of the congregation who were enjoying watching the
whole procedure in the background. I'm wondering whether Westerners
had ever visited the pagoda before--we obviously were a very
interesting phenomenon. Characteristically for Vietnamese people,
everyone was very welcoming, and alert to ways they could help us.

Yesterday, four women from a hat-making village came here to
demonstrate how the typical Vietnamese conical hats are made. In
Vietnam, each village specializes in a particular business: rice wine
production, ceramics, hat-making, and so on. They brought all the
needed equipment and supplies to make four hats. It was fascinating to
watch them work to create what initially seems to be a simple
creation. As they worked, we came to see, step by step, how careful
craftsmanship and great expertise--not to mention centuries of
experimentation and technique refinement--go into the making of each
palm leaf and bamboo hat. They were lovely and gentle, so it felt
completely natural and relaxed to just sit and watch. When they
invited the children to try doing some of the sewing of the hats, one
of the Irish kids in our group, R, snuggled into the lap of one
of the hatmakers and spent the next hour or so--to everyone's
delight--being tutored in the stitches used to make the hats. I took
photos and was given one of the completed hats, so I'll be able to
show you when I return.