Police, Peace, and an iPhone

It has been an eventful week.


I had my first experience with communism.  At 9:00 pm last Friday night, a policeman in a green uniform made a personal visit to my apartment, asking about my passport.  I was shocked, a little bit frightened, and very confused.  My mom sat in the living room with the policeman and they made small talk, looking at some paperwork and drinking tea.  My mom didn't seem concerned at all; she was laughing and smiling.  Meanwhile, I was watching them, and seriously concerned that the policeman was going to take me away.  I kept imagining me sitting in a dark room being questioned in Vietnamese by more men in green uniforms about why I am in Vietnam and yelling, "I don't speak Vietnamese! I don't understand!"

Thankfully, that didn't happen.  After an hour of talking, the policemen left.  A few days ago my mom went to the police station to sort things out.  I still have no idea why.  The exact same thing happened to my friend Jaya on the same night, and she is equally as confused as I.

***

I started my community service project this past Thursday.  Along with three other girls, Annaleah, Julia, and Nan, I'm volunteering at Peace Village.  Peace Village was started by American veterans about 20 years ago for children suffering from the effects of Agent Orange.  The first Peace Village was in Ho Chi Minh City, but now there are 12 different villages scattered throughout Vietnam.  The one that I am volunteering at in Hanoi cares for 150 children, around ages 3-20.  About half of them spend the nights there, and half come for the school day and return to their families at night.  The children's disabilities range from mild autism, to crippling deformities and severe mental retardation.

My first experience at Peace Village was very moving and eye opening.  I spent my time sitting with a 13 year old boy, working on beautiful needle point.  One of his hands was deformed and he had some sort of mild autism.  But instead of me helping him, he helped me.  He threaded my needle for me, showed me where to sew, and tied the knots.  He laughed at me when I sewed in the wrong places, and showed me how to fix it.

To be honest, it didn't really seem like he or any of the other children desperately needed our help.  There really wasn't a whole lot we could do for them.  My friends Annaleah and Julia just ended up sitting in a classroom with kids while they drew pictures.  They said it was very disorganized, and that there was not enough teachers to handle the many kids.  But it almost didn't seem to matter, because most of the children didn't have the cognitive ability to understand what was going on or to speak coherently.

I was very confused when I left that afternoon.  If I couldn't make a difference, what was the point of even going there?

But, as I thought about it in the cab ride home, I realized that I could make a small difference to the children.  I can't fix their disabilities, or repair the broken down building, but I could become friends with them.  I can form relationships with them, and hopefully brighten their day.  Making friends is always great, but in this situation, I think it is especially important.  Most of the children do not have the opportunity to make friends from outside Peace Village.  I am really looking forward to spending more time at Peace Village.

***

While riding back home in the taxi from Peace Village, I noticed something shiny stuck between the seats.  A candy wrapper? A quarter perhaps? Nope, even better: an iPhone.  

Immediately, a little devil popped up on my right shoulder, and a little angel on my left shoulder.  The devil said, "FREE iPHONE! HELL YEAH!" The angel said, "Somebody is really upset that they lost that iPhone.  You should return it."  

Of course, my guilty conscience listened to the little angel.  When I got home, I charged up the iPhone, and called the contact listed as Home. Miraculously, the woman on the other end spoke perfect English.  I explained to her how I found the phone in a taxi and how I wanted to return it to her, and she was so surprised.  She laughed, telling me she was sure that she had lost it. 

We agreed to meet up the next day after I finished school.  At 4:00 pm, a cute little Vietnamese woman pulled up to the curb on her motorbike in a white blouse and red shoes.  "Sarah!" she exclaimed.  

She told me her name was Ly, and thanked me a million times for returning her phone to her.  I told her it was really no problem at all, but to show her gratitude, Ly gave me a huge bag of qua nhan and qua chom chom (which are my absolute favorite fruits.  I'm pretty sure half my body weight at this point is qua nhan).  I thanked her and gave her a big hug.  Ly said she wanted to talk to me more, and get to know me, so I gave her my email.  I can't wait to get to know her more too! 

This brings me to my next point: the Vietnamese are incredibly friendly people.  On numerous occasions, people who I have just met have invited me to play games with them, go out to eat food, or go to the movies.  One girl asked me to come travel with her family this winter to Sapa to see snow.  On the plane ride over here from Hong Kong to Vietnam, the man sitting next to me struck up a conversation and we ended up talking for the entire flight.  He told me all about his family and job, and asked me many questions about where I live and why I was going to Vietnam.  He gave me his phone number and told me I was welcome to come stay with his family out in the countryside anytime that I wanted. I was completely taken aback. He truly wanted me to meet his family and give me a tour of the countryside.  A stranger would never extend their hand like that to someone else in the U.S.  Before we stepped off the plane, he gave me a pen that he bought in Canada.  He said he saw me writing in my journal earlier in the flight and knew that the pen would be useful for me.  I thought that was so kind of him.

I am having an incredible time.  My host family is finally starting to really feel like my family.  Earlier today, my mom taught me how to make fried egg rolls.  They were delicious! 

The people here are so delightful.  I love answering and asking questions.  Random people on the street will ask me where I am from. Here's what that conversation usually looks like:

Where are you from? New York?

No, Virginia.

Vargeena? 

Yes. It's close to Washington D.C.

Oh.. Okay. 

Then one of my friends will mention that they are from New York, and the person will get all excited.  Yes, yes! New York! It is so beautiful!

I'm slowly getting accustomed to the food here as well. I'm a little less shocked when I see a restaurant advertising dog meat, or a fish head in a bowl of soup.  I avoid making faces when my mom puts a plate of chicken organs down on the table for dinner.  I even tried caterpillar and pig stomach (I don't recommend either).  Once, I was eating a bowl of soup that had a huge chunk of unidentifiable meat in it.  My mom told me it was pig knee.  There was still hair on it. There's also a small village nearby that specializes in  snake meat; I might have to go check that out sometime.  Rumor has it that they serve a drink with a beating cobra heart in it.  Any takers?

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a dream.  I still cannot believe that I am here.  Everyday, there's something new to learn and something interesting to see.  I'm halfway around the world! How insane is that?