first full day on the Vietnam leg of my tour. for whatever reason, i find myself periodically dissolving into tears during the bus ride to the Mekong homestay. my new German friend, Matthias told me of this common phenomenon - almost everyone who travels at length has at least one proper cry. and there is no one single factor that points to why this happens. a bit taken aback by myself having come from the school of the stiff upper lip. ten years of living in NYC has only accelerated the building of emotional walls. and now a mere thirty days into my trip, i feel the closed shutters of my heart opening one by one.
looking at all the changing vistas outside my bus window, i find myself thinking of my father who set up one of the first Vietnamese refugee assistance programs when Saigon collapsed in 1975. i have never truly been able to wrap my head around the horrible ripple effect of war but having journeyed through Cambodia and now Vietnam, i am only beginning to see.
there are many forms of protest and i think i am searching for mine. it cannot be enough to just participate in heated discussions or tsk tsk over the news. my father is a citizen of the world and i am his daughter.
