Lagoon on West Lake of Hanoi, view from the lakeside pier at our hotel (Hanoi in the distance), January 2010, photo © 2010 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
my dear Viet Nam
what lies beneath the water?
I see myself in you
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Postscript: It is three nights and three days since I’ve landed back in New Mexico after almost two weeks in Vietnam. When our plane hit the tarmac at the Albuquerque International Airport and the flight attendant came on the speaker to say that it was OK to turn on our electronic devices, I sent Jim the following text:
Landed
He wrote back:
Cowabunga
Cowabunga, indeed.
Coming back to my life in New Mexico is a re-entry of sorts. At first the transition is gentle. Jim has a dinner of pork loin, baked potatoes, and peas and corn waiting the first evening, and I sleep from 8 pm until 11:30 the next day. Day Two is another reprieve—soft hugs from daughters and Jim’s homemade chicken pot pie—before I’m fully reabsorbed into the fabric of daily life.
After the second night I am a full-time mom once again. I take my oldest shopping for a dress to wear to Winter Dance then plan a menu involving potato-leek soup. I want to sleep during the day but I don’t indulge my longings. If I take a nap, I risk not being able to wake up without feeling like I’ve just emerged from a 100-year slumber.
Something I’ve learned from my trips abroad: unpack within 24 hours of landing and put away my suitcase; else, it will sit on the floor for weeks, a trip hazard in the night when I wake up at 3 am and decide to get up. To avoid hitting an underwear shortage mid-week, I wash and dry, if not fold, my laundry. Connect with friends and family. Pick up where I left off on commitments. Each one of these actions helps me be fully present now that I’m back.
∞ ∞ ∞
There is something about traveling abroad that suits me immensely. I love the solitude of sitting on a plane that’s bound for somewhere far away and feeling like I’m self-contained. It’s not unlike the feeling of freedom that comes from getting into a car and leaving town for a long road trip. How exotic to arrive at nightfall to a town where you’ve never been, to eagerly await morning so you can see what lies beyond.
(Interestingly, the night that I arrived in Hue, Vietnam, right after I slid the key into my hotel room door, I was drawn to the bathroom window where four floors below a tennis match was taking place. And the sights to be had the next day! Ah…saved for another post.)
Even so, I would not trade where I am this moment for anything else. There is nothing more comforting than sitting in my small writing room, my daughters tucked into bed, Jim making a late snack of the beans and ham hock that I cooked tonight.
From the moment I leave my family until the moment I return, I think about them. I notice other children, kids in transit. I smile at fussy babies on the plane. On this trip I even offered to the young parents behind me on the flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong that if they needed someone to hold their infant son, I’d be glad to help. They never did take me up on my offer.
Tonight, when I can place everyone I love in relation to myself, I’m content. I am home.
-Related to post Reflections Of A Stay-Away-From-Home Mother
Your photos put me under a charm. As I looked at Lagoon on West Lake of Hanoi , the time stopped – I have felt….I still search my Lithuanian-English dictionary for the appropriate words to put my emotions, yet I doubt such word exist at all. Your camera caught your heart, so to speak. I see here the whole life – I smell and enjoy the world history in the image and discover her insight – wow! Thank you.
Tomas Karkalas from
http://dayfly.wordpress.com/
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Lovely images. Welcome home. Nestle in.
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Beautiful photo journal for us. I especially like the little girl looking out the window. Love your commentary. You speak for so many mothers.
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Thanks, all. anhinga, the shot of the girl was taken at the beginning of the trip. I had a 4a taxi to the airport (always, on both legs I have to deal with 4a taxis!). The flight was at 6a, and so by the time we reached San Francisco the sun was just rising. The whole plane was bathed in a pink light. It was quite lovely. It dawned on me that I’m always hyper-aware of children any time I travel.
I have this idea that a child knows when looking at me that I’m a mother, that I’m maternal. I’m not sure that other parents always know that; often parents who are traveling, especially overseas, are harried and self-conscious of their kids. Sometimes I want to tell them that I’m a parent too and not to worry, I get how much work is going into the trip and how little control the parents have over their children, and how challenging it is for the kids.
I’m nestling in. I had a bout of yawning at about 3-4p, accompanied by a bout of staring and not being able to think. But other than that I’m feeling pretty good. Jim built a fire tonight–it’s so cold here. Thu it might snow. Glad to be home.
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ybonesy, this post has a peaceful feeling to it. I love the photos. The first one struck me right away. It’s the kind of photo I can imagine being turned into a woodcut or linocut. The layers and depth…yet simplicity.
These trips to Vietnam change you. They seem good for you, too. You seem to come home with a whole new appreciation for your family and those close to you. What could be better?
It’s clear you love the land and people there. I wonder where all of this will lead you over time. Can’t wait to find out.
You know what you said about unpacking when you get home? That’s true about the trips I take home to PA or South with Mom. They are long trips where I cover many miles. If I don’t unpack right away, everything sits there for weeks (Just ask Liz). Why is that?
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Oh, what a lovely post, and what a lovely trip you must have had. And best of all, how lovely to be home.
I am also an unpacker. I like to unpack within the hour if I can stay awake. Do the laundry, get back into my routine. I used to try to ignore it, thinking it would keep me on vacation, keep me in my other life, enjoying the alternate reality of being in another place. It doesn’t work. Just makes me tired. So now I unpack, so I can feel like I’m at home, and yet remember and enjoy my memories.
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I don’t care to pack or unpack. The packing is hard, especially for a long trip. I want to save room in my luggage and pack only clothes I’ll wear. So I think it through, and it takes time that I usually don’t want to spare as I’m getting close to the trip. Too many times I’ve stayed up late packing. This time I did it earlier, but still the day before. (Some organized people pack several days before.)
Unpacking is tiring, but it’s more tiring to trip over the bag and not find what you need because it’s in the luggage. Just do it. My unpacking motto. 🙂
Thanks, J and QM, for touching on that aspect. 8)
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