I don’t know where to start. My head bursting with tales and anecdotes. The raconteur within me stifled and frustrated as my vocabulary lets me down. I don’t have the words to match the senses. Sights or flavors. The blessings. I’m concerned that I won’t do the country and its people justice. Perhaps its because I travelled alone that my experience feels somewhat intimate. Introspective. Don’t get me wrong, among the beauty and wonder there was also bad. Things I saw that tore at my core. Yet there was so much more good that in the bad I found lessons and objectivity. Hope and potential solutions.
Point is I’m infatuated with Vietnam. I dream about her at night. Find my mind wandering off to moments cherished. Planning my next visit. Yet lacking in confidence, like a teenager shy before her crush, to share it all. I will try, the words will flow, the photos will flicker. Take them please and add spice and idealism and the sweet smell of offered incense – take away my sentimentality, and only then will you feel some of what I felt as I met a very small part of this brave country and her people.