Everything nice and gentle went splash today. Let me start with the factual. “Perfume Pagoda…AM departure at 7h00. 2 hour road trip. One and a half hour boat on Yen stream to Thien Tru habor. 2 hour trekking up to the main cave pagoda. One hour down. Lunch at Thien Tru PM: 2 hour road trip to Hanoi and arrive at about 18h00. Price: 10 U$/person”
That’s straight out of the brochure. As we drove out of Hanoi into the country, I started to feel anxious and sensed that I was entering more familiar territory. Thousands of motorbikes turned into hundreds of bikes. The 4 lane roads got smaller and closer. The most used implement in Hanoi and surrounding area is the horn. The city began to evolve into occasional hamlets with cottage industries and farmers’ foodmarts. It looked like former Army bases have now become schools. As I began to see familiar sights, my recalls began to trigger alert points.
Then we came to the boat docks. There I met a young 17 year old girl named Hua and a 18 year old boy named Ten. They were off from school today so the teachers could hold meetings and were trying to make a few bucks by rowing along side of the tourists and taking pictures to have developed and ready after we came down from the pagoda mountain. The group included some locals making pilgimages, Vietnamese emigre’s returning for visits, some Asian tourists, some Argentinians, a young French couple and two college girls from Winnepeg on vacation. The old boats of wood that I remembered are now iron and the wooden slats for seats are hard on an old man’s sagging butt, especially one without a tailbone.
As we moved up river, the scenery suddenly became all too real. The mountains of Quang Tri toward Laos began to emerge. You remember how their jungle mountains seemed like they rose up from the earth independent of each other in rows that faded in a mist. The reeds on the banks, the call of the birds, the grunt of the water-boo’s in the paddys all clicked recall. I tried to hide what was happening in my chest and gut with humor and “Gentle-Ben” wisdom. But I really wanted to be quiet and separate from this group. We approached the harbor and the guides asked me to stay in the boat and they would help me. It was obvious that my size was making them nervous about my pending exit from iron to shore. When they reached out to pull me onto the pier, one guide let go of the boat. I took one step. Guess what happens when you’ve one foot on the dock and one in the boat and the boat’s moving away. Splash!
I went down about two feet below the surface. I grabbed for my glasses and camera but the extra shirt and fanny pack sank to the bottom. Suddenly arms were reaching from everywhere; about fifty Vietnamese women who had watched my dive were laughing; tourists were quietly thinking, “Thank God it wasn’t me?”, and the guides were very nervous. Young Hua dove in and retrieved the shirt and fanny pack that held my wallet and other valuables, including about $100 dollars. Everything was soaked. Hua took the wet shirts to dry on a line. I looked like a whipped sumo. I felt very humbled. They had T shirts for sale, but Vietnamese have no understanding of 3X. So, I remained shirtless and hit the ground walking with only wet shorts, a wet fanny pack and my sandals. Hua and Ten stayed right by my side and while the others went off for their ascent of 2 hours to visit the Perfoume Pagoda. My two young guides took me to a one hour ascent to the Goddess of Mercy cave pagoda.
While they began to try to dry out the contents of my fanny pack, I went into the pagoda barefoot and soaking. I prayed for mercy and quickly began to sob. When I went back outside to sit by the children, the attending, shaved-headed woman-monk came down to me with tears on her face and a plate of fruit in her hands. The kids explained that she was very sad about my accident and wanted me to have this gift of food to make me feel better. I felt the tear stream begin to flow again as I said, “Thank you.” Theun I just sat on a wall and ate the fruit with the kids.
After a while, I returned into the cave pagoda and sat down. I just breathed slowly and enjoyed the peaceful quiet and let the morning go. We eventually went back half way down the mountain to the village. Hua had found a piece of wood for me to use as a cane. We met up with the others and ate a fine meal. I was damp, but the food tasted good. After lunch, we continued the descent to the dock and Hua and Ten stayed behind with their families in one of the nearby villages. Trying to reach out for me when I was falling, Hua had lost her camera. As we said good bye, I gave her and Ten the wet money for a new camera and a good day.
We got into the boats and headed back down the river. Right now, please excuse me, but I need to talk to Ooga, a friend from Menlo. Maybe all of you will identify. You were very much on my mind today, brother Don. On the way back in the boats and the bus, I remembered.
I remembered sitting in my living room watching Saigon fall and saying “Bullshit! I never want to see that place again.” Then I remember sitting with my friend Ron, stoned to the max one day, saying “Maybe, we should go back to Vietnam for a visit.” Then we burst out laughing when we imagined that NVA officials probably meet us getting off the plane, put us in chains and say, “We’ve been waiting for you two.” I remembered sitting in Psych ward rooms thinking “Maybe if I went back to say I’m sorry, it might help.” At Menlo Park, I thought if I went back I could maybe remember who I was back then. What did I want to do in life?. At Boise, I thought that if I went back, I could pick up Fred’s spirit and bring him home. I can do all of those things, but I think I now know, Don why I’ve come back. I’m here to say “Goodbye!”
Not like the the AA directions of “Let God, let go!” and “Good Bye, Vietnam!” But to say goodbye to the phoney realities of life in the USA. Ooga, I think I know why we have that hole inside and a lifetime of fuzzy thoughts. We loved these people like we loved each other. That’s the only reality that worked for us. Without fitting in and being “tight,” we’re lost. We’ve held job after job and kept falling on our asses because we don’t fit in the real-world BS reality. That’s the reality of LBJ, McNamara, Nixon, the Pentagon Papers, Kent and Jackson State, both Bushes, Chaney, Reagan, Clinton, WTO, Governor Arnold, General Motors and Globalization. That’s all crap.
They call us whacked and give us pills like candy. But over here, I think we’re the “normies” and they’re all nuttier than a fruit cake because they don’t know the lessons we learned in the “Brotherhood of the Paddies.” They don’t know our source of honor. They’ve never been in the moment when you know you are ready to “Go down together.” They don’t know if they could give it up for another. There isn’t an unconditional sentiment in them, except maybe greed or ego.
We’ve been trying to over and over to adjust to a world that doesn’t make any sense. Why in war do we love, and in peace, we hate or ignore? Why is it that only third world countries recycle? How much longer do we have to quadruple the National debt while corporate America sells out workers and leaps to earth in a golden parachute? On and on. I think I’ve come back here to remember that love I knew and cherished here and to say goodbye to the “feaux” forever. Well, I guess that’s all I felt like saying today.
I like the countryside better than the city. I still love the people here as much as I did 39 years ago. I love all of you today. Tomorrow morning, I’m flying to Hue. I’m sorry about the camera, dear wife. I think it’s shot. I’ll buy some post cards of Hanoi and the Pagoda trip and a disposable replacement and maybe in Hue, I can find a scanner and send some pics along.
S’lan,
Tom
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