The End

Sorry I’ve been out of touch. The mission trip just ended, and I was trying to enjoy every second I had left. There is no internet where I am currently at so I am typing this in Word and will post it as soon as I can. As some of you know, although the actual mission trip is finished, I am staying in Vietnam for another week to do some more service and to visit family. Internet will not always be there, but I will still try to update the blog as much as possible. Today, I flew to Hue and had an eventful day, but that will be covered in the next post. For now, let’s pick up where I last left off.
We woke up early on the 28th and left the beautiful Hoi An to hop on a plane to Saigon. As usual, I slept for the whole flight. When we arrived and I got off the plane, something took me by surprise: the smell! It was an unpleasant mix of pollution, gas, and food. In addition, this city felt the hottest and most humid yet. We hopped on a bus and drove towards the Rex, an older but nice hotel where we would be staying. Upon arriving, most of the Vietnamese team members went off to their own homes for the day (most of them live in the area and they wanted to sleep in their own beds). Seeing most of my Vietnamese friends leave evoked a heavy sadness within me; even though I would see them the next day, their leaving reminded me of the inevitable goodbye that was too close. In hopes of getting my mind off of my troubles, I took advantage of my free time to go work out in the hotel gym with my uncle. It was well equipped (though it had nothing on the Strake weightroom) and I enjoyed the distraction. At six, several of the team and I left the hotel to go out into Saigon and shop at the Chinese market. I had not eaten since breakfast, so the first thing I did at the market was grab some food. The restaurant I chose was overpriced and not very good, but I was happy to have something to stop my roaring stomach. Most of the stores had closed for the evening by the time I had finished eating, but I spied a watch and sunglass stand that remained open. Walking over, I saw a wide variety of Rolexes and Ray Ban sunglasses for sale. The owner was uninterested with her surroundings; she sat reading a magazine while she waited for someone to stop by the stand, and when someone did, she would not look up for more than a couple seconds. She acted no differently when I walked up, looking up briefly to ask if I needed help finding anything. For a shop owner, this woman was fairly young and, in my opinion, very pretty. I began asking her which watches looked nice on me, and although at first she showed no interest in helping me, my intoxicating smile and charm made her giggle and laugh. Soon, we weren’t even talking about watches anymore; she had me guess her age and I asked her what she did for fun outside of the store. When the topic of watches came back up, she gave me a ridiculously low price: over 80 percent off what she had asked for first. I politely said no thank you; I didn’t really need a watch. However, one of my American team members wanted some sunglasses, so I convinced my new friend to sell her a pair of Ray Bans for $5.00, ten dollars less than the original price. The owner, who turned out to be 24, did so only after I promised to visit her the following day. While I didn’t actually go back, it felt good knowing that my social skills and Vietnamese were good enough to make a new friend, even in the situation I was in. All that bargaining made me hungry, and so I joined the team at a Thai restaurant (yes, Thai food in Vietnam). The Pad Thai I had was THE best I have ever had. Full and pleasantly surprised, I went back to the hotel to get a good night’s rest for the final clinic.
Our last work day took place in a local orphanage that helped both orphans and disabled children. Because most of the patients were physically disabled in some way and unable to sit still for long periods of time, the dental team did not receive much work; even in my sterilization station I had a lot more free time than usual. Knowing that the trip was nearing its end, I took advantage of my free time by talking to my team members, sharing laughs, and making memories. When the clinic closed, all stations cleaned out their bins and took inventory of all the supplies. It was almost poetic; on our second to last day, we were opening all the bins and counting how much of each thing was present, just like we had done on the second day. I felt a small rush of sadness when I finished my bin; I had sterilized my last instrument and put it away, signaling the end of my term in the station. The whole inventory process took about 4 hours, and upon finishing, our exhausted team drove back to the hotel. After my shower, I went out to eat with my uncle and several friends in a market. We chose a market different from the night before, and thankfully the food was much better. My uncle bargained ferociously for a Puma shirt for me, but only sizes in stock were too big. I did manage to buy a fairly nice polo for three dollars (brought down from the listed ten). Satisfied, we began to walk home. We took the long way, and on the road there were many beggars asking for money; what stuck out in my mind the most was a young girl, no more than 4 years old, approaching me and telling me she was hungry. Heeding the warning of my parents, I did not give any money to the beggars, but it still struck a chord to see just how many poor lived in the city. Despite all the hard work every person on my team put in over the past 2 weeks, the problem of poverty still existed prominently and showed no signs of letting up. Although I had not expected to solve Vietnam’s poor problem, I was a bit discouraged to realize there were many who needed help, and because the clinics were over, I would not be able to help them. I had helped so many people with my smile, but it didn’t even look like I had helped at all. Sighing heavily, I tried to enjoy the remaining hours of my penultimate day with my friends, and at midnight, I returned to my room and slept.
The whole team approached the final day with an air of apprehension. I woke up early to work out and went to breakfast after, yet all my actions felt mechanical; my mind was elsewhere. Could it really be possible that it had been two and a half weeks already? Everyone behaved with a similar disbelief; it just did not feel like it was over yet. My roommate An and my friend Van went with me to walk around and look for gifts for those back home after breakfast. I bargained well and got great deals, but nothing really seemed worth buying. An and I then went out to a late lunch. However, we had no idea what or where we wanted to eat; despite this, we both decided to just walk around and find a restaurant to eat at. Bad mistake. Distracted by the sadness that overshadowed the day, I just walked and walked without really looking where I was walking. When I decided to look up, An and I were horribly lost. Luckily, An was good with directions and maneuvered us back to the hotel; we had walked about a mile off course! We settled in at a fast food restaurant and ate there.
When we returned, I went and got ready for the final dinner. The event called for fancy clothes, so I put on my favorite black button down and walked downstairs. Everyone in the team slowly made their way down as well, all radiating an overwhelming sadness, yet glowing beautifully. My young friend Tu arrived from his Saigon home by taxi and ran up to me beaming. He presented me with a bag filled with soccer jerseys he had bought for me as a goodbye present. In addition, he had seen my dress shirt beforehand and, out of a desire to match with me, wore a shirt similar to mine. I was amazed and touched by both gestures of admiration, and my sadness threatened to overtake me. I fought it back, thanked Tu with a hug, and the two of us happily joked around with everyone we saw in an attempt to lighten the mood. My other young friend, Hanh, came downstairs wearing a beautiful custom made dress and small heels. Unused to such lavish clothing, Hanh stumbled and scowled with every step, embarrassed that she had to wear what she thought was a silly dress. I laughed with her, proud that she had decided to dress up for the occasion and tussled her hair as I did every day. All my other friends looked amazing as well, and as a team, we made our way to the restaurant. The time prior to dinner was filled by hugs and lots of pictures; my camera alone took over 100 photos. Dinner was then served family wedding style, seven different dishes to be split among the table. After dinner, the team leader distributed the team awards. The day before, we had voted for who we thought best fit certain “awards”, such as “best dressed” or “best laugh”. Surprisingly, I received two awards, the most anyone had received, one for most improved Vietnamese and another for being the team comedian; apparently, everyone had taken note of my playful demeanor and voted for me. I was touched, and again, I was barely able to fight my emotions back. After several speeches, the time came for goodbyes. The final minutes were all filled with long embraces and sobs; no one wanted to leave the friends we had made on the trip. Tears filled my eyes as I shared one last joke with Co Cuc, the pharmacist who took to me, always laughing at my jokes and feeding me extra food to ensure I did not go hungry. I took time to say goodbye to each of my American team members, especially my New Orleans friend Chi Lan, who had adopted me as her little brother for the trip and gave me my trip nickname; because my name is Christopher, she called me “To Pho”. She jokingly told me I smelled and hugged me, thanking me for a great time. As I said goodbye to Giang and Hoa, the two Vietnamese dentists who befriended me, who had helped me with my Vietnamese so much, and who I had grown close to, I began to break down inside. I tried my best to maintain my outer composure, but it soon became apparent that it would not be long before I would give in. I embraced each of the three Hanoi girls, Van, Trang, and Kieu An, for what felt like hours; they were amazing friends and made the trip for me with their smiles and laughs. I comforted Hanh as she cried, jokingly messing up her hair one last time and complimenting her dress. The rest of the Vietnamese team came up and tearfully wished me the best. Just when it seemed as if I would be able to keep it together, I was taken by surprise by something I did not expect to see: I looked over to see Tu crying. Tu had been like me on the trip, joking around with anyone and not letting anything or anyone get him down. He stood there trying, like me, to fight tears back. I walked over to him and knelt down to his level. He had given me so much on the trip; he was the little brother I missed, the friend I joked around with, and he made every day brighter for me. Because of this, I decided right then to thank him in a special way: I took off my wristband and gave it to him. I had received it at my Confirmation and had worn it every day since, but I decided then that it was the perfect thing for Tu to remember me by. It fit loosely around his wrist, but I told him to be like me and wear it always. Through his tears he nodded his head and shook my hand. That did it for me; Tu and I cried together. My emotions and thoughts swirled together and poured out of me as tears and sobs as it all got to me; I realized that the two and a half weeks had zoomed by and no matter what I wanted, there was no way for me to turn back time. All the memories I had made flashed through my mind as I stumbled out of the restaurant. As a group, we slowly made our way to the hotel, and when I got into bed, although I still wiped the tears from my eyes, I was happy through my sadness; the trip had been immensely successful. My final goal, the one I was most apprehensive about, had been achieved: I had made friends, friends who would miss me as much as I would miss them. All the people were beautiful, loving people, friendly to a fault and more than happy to help their people. I hope to strive for a similar lifestyle, and will do so by ensuring that my culture, which I had unfortunately lost for a short period of time, remains a definitive part of me. The trip instilled within me a profound appreciation for Vietnam, one that I did not have before the trip, but one that I will never let die. I know I’ll be back because there are still those who need help, and I can only hope the friends I make when I return are as great as the ones I made this time. I’m still sad, but I look to the future and know that these bonds won't friendship die easily, and much like you all were with me in Vietnam, my new friends will be in my heart wherever I go.

Giving Vietnam my love was one of the best decisions of my life, because now, Vietnam has my heart.