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From Abroad

We just finished a great weekend in Ha Tien, Vietnam. It is a small resort area on the southern tip of the country, right on the ocean. The sky was a constant medley of blues and grays, somewhat resembling an 80’s Corolla with faded & missing paint. The hotel we stayed at was probably the nicest I’ve seen here so far. Although it is owned by the local police department, but I didn’t see any Five O’s hanging around.
Along with us westerners came two students from the University; Loi and ‘Larry.’ This was their first trip to the beach, ever. Although they live about 3 hours from this place we went, travel isn’t what it is in the states. They had child-like smiles constantly during our adventure to the ocean. When the sun departed for the day, a group of us went to this bar/club at the top of a nearby mountain. After walking up a stone approach, we entered this elevated establishment and approached the bar. Every eye in the entire place was watching us. I still wonder what these folks are thinking when we walk in.
After ordering a few Saigon Lagers, the group hit the dance floor. It is safe to say that we rocked that place! We had to keep the dancing much cleaner than it tends to be in the states so as not to shock the locals too much with social norms much different from theirs. We adapted. The students who went with us were dancing for the first time, and loving every minute of it. To see these guys having new experiences, learning and adapting is very fulfilling.
When the people were tired and ready to descend the mountain, I paid the tab & a fellow traveler Wesley covered the tip. If we traveled from the other side of the planet for no reason other than giving our new friends this experience, it was all worth it to me. Times like these make all the B.S. worth dealing with.
On a side note, a constant of this journey was the hustle of the locals. We were charged an extra fee at dinner for the food being cooked. A couple of us were charged for sitting in chairs along the beach. These were not huge amounts, most were less than an US dollar. I am not bitter at all. It all relates back to that hustle I mentioned in an earlier blog. People will do what they must to get by, I can respect that.
After spending all day on a bus driving through the undeveloped countryside of Vietnam, I am exhausted. The bus driver seemed to be either a great or crazy driver. The jury is still out on that one. His insistence on flooring the pedal on dirt roads while swerving to dodge water buffalo made it a little hard to relax.
I did however enjoy one specific roadside attraction. It was a mountain with a series of caves and tunnels running through it, which I explored. I climbed and crawled to heights and depths. The most satisfying part of the journey was reaching the mountain top. The view was unbelievable. (See attached photo)
I was able to stand on a mountain in a far-away land and ponder life. I looked out into the landscape to see the great beauty contrasted by the widespread poverty. Thick green foliage highlighted by old, tall palm trees were offset by a series of tin or bamboo roofed dwellings. Some had only 3 walls and most had with children.
Maybe this contrast so evident in the Vietnam countryside is a reflection of life in general: It’s the good, the bad and the rest of the story, and at the same time, simply is.

Back to Basics

This morning I took some much needed “Bobby time.” I slept in, at least as much as I could through the pounding of hammers, the sounds of cell phones going off and Vietnamese voices in the hallway. These folks do like to get up early over here.

When I finally decided to start the day, it began with a cigarette and a movie. I lied in bed watching Clerks 2 on my laptop. I’ve seen it a few times, but it serves as “comfort food” to me.

I needed some time to just do what I do on my free time at home, be alone. I need down time to process everything in America, let alone on the other side of the planet. I am still enjoying my time here but it is safe to say the honeymoon is over. The intrigue is centered on issues I’m covering, rather than the nuances which define this culture.

The social service sector in this country is completely volunteer based, and funded entirely by non-governmental organizations and foreign governments. Still, it is accomplishing many things for people in need. I’ve been sitting in on an international social work convention at An Giang University here in Long Xuyen. The discussions between social workers from West Virginia and the Vietnamese are very interesting and enlightening. It is safe to say that we have different ideas about many issues pertaining to social services, such as what constitutes abuse and whether prevention is a realistic goal.

Despite our differences and rocky history as nations, we have all learned much from each other.

Today, I will return to the University to spend some time at the convention and meet some fore local folks. I will first be going to find some lunch with Kendal, a photographer from my group. She has been sick for a few days after awaking to find her legs covered with red spots encircled by white.

I took her to a local medicine woman yesterday where she was prescribed some creams and benadryl. It wasn’t any mystical experience or anything, just different from what I’m used to I suppose. It was a beautiful office, complete with black leather couches surrounding an ornamental coffee table. The walls held paintings of various sunsets and landscapes.

The medicine woman was kind and very beautiful. Although she didn’t speak English, her demeanor was very pleasant. Kendal’s mind was finally at ease.

It’s just another small piece of the adventure chosen for public consumption. Speaking of consumption, I drank Pepsi out of a glass bottle yesterday. It was probably the first in more than 10 years. I enjoyed every sip of it. I ordered this in a coffee shop/restaurant across the street from the University, where I found a table of international teachers. Many were from America, Australia and a few from Germany. One guy is from Philadelphia, another from St. Louis, and one from Delaware. Interesting how people’s lives lead them in directions never anticipated. I suppose I’m a living testament to that.

I’m off to lunch now, probably eat some seafood-rice dish. But I’m hungry for Cappicola and Provolone cheese. I know I won’t have any for more than a month, but if my best friend can survive in Iraq off of Halliburton meals, I’m sure I’ll survive.

I heard that Opie and Anthony got suspended from XM Radio (paid subscription service), what the hell is up with that? I don’t know what they did, but I fear coming home to a country where the First Amendment has been handcuffed, even more than after Imus. Someone please let me know the deal.

I am currently in a place called Long Xuyen. It is much smaller than Saigon but city-like none the less. Every street is lined with little shops where the people live and work. Food, beverages and internet caf�s are among the entrepreneurship. Every time we walk down the streets we seem to draw much attention, as we are not Asian. Most attention is friendly and complimented with a smile. There is that small percentage that makes me a little nervous, but people are still people.

Our hotel is a nice one, air conditioned and across the street from the area’s only supermarket. The beer here is delicious. I’ve been living off of “Bia Saigon” lagers. A medium colored Lager with a full flavor, I will miss these when I�m gone.

In the hotel, there are beds rather than hammocks, but we shower in the bathroom. Not in a shower stall, but on the entire floor, the shower fixture is to the left of the sink, next to the toilet. The water runs into a drain on the floor, not what I�m used to. The plumbing fixtures are ironically “American Standard” brand, but very different from American products. Most toilets are in the floor and you do your business standing.

At dinner in the hotel restaurant the other night, we were waiting for the food & the waiter brought a flaming charcoal bucket to the table with as a pot of soup on top of it. It was complete with chicken feet, heads and many non-traditional food items.

On the way here from Saigon, we saw many tin-roof shacks and water buffalo. It was an eye opener for sure. The level of poverty which is the norm here is not a possibility in much of America due to social programs in place.

As I sit at a corner caf� across from my hotel this morning, my shoulders and neck ache. My mind is slightly tired as sleep hasn�t been as easy to achieve as in the states. I do think I picked up a bug of some sorts as my stomach has been in uproar for a couple of days. I am fine though.

All the people are currently watching me. Some of their eyes say curiosity, others intrigue, and yet a few are possibly thinking money. I am probably the richest person within a half-mile radius right now, so I do feel a bit vulnerable. But as always, I will keep my faith in humanity around me and in myself to guide and take care of me. So far it has never let me down.

Right now I have to get back to the hotel as I see our ride from the University over there. It is a 1984 Toyota van, similar to the one my grandfather used to drive. It would seem that no matter where I go on this planet, the coincidences are familiar even when my surroundings are not. This gives me comfort every day.

I broke down in tears today. As the sun shined brightly in Vietnam, I wept at the sight of what it illuminated. I found myself in an orphanage this afternoon, and my expectations were far from the reality. I stood in an orange gated, colorful concrete structure with exotic fruit trees blossoming in the courtyard. A hand full of multi?level buildings surrounding me as I stand in the middle, taken by the place’s natural beauty.

Then I walked with my group of social workers from West Virginia and the volunteer translators into one of these buildings. Upon entering, we removed our shoes, a customary sign of respect. About a dozen severely disabled children were scattered around the room. The odor was lacking human excrement, citing a certain degree of care. Nonetheless, the situation was a unique one. I walked around talking to the children, the same way I talk to my friend’s kids. Many were unresponsive, but this one boy was smiling and laughing. He picked up a small pillow with his tiny hand and threw it at one of the girls in our group. He laughed from the heart. We smiled and encouraged him as he repeated this action again and again. Levity had been achieved in the situation.

This was promptly shattered as I exited to a comment from a colleague of mine. “You know why they are like this don’t you?” he questioned. “Victims of Agent Orange.”

The question was rhetorical but the answer was horrible; these lives had been destroyed as a result of a desperate war tactic. My heart slammed in my chest and eyes instantly teared behind my ESS combat sunshades. I stood shocked, unresponsive.

As I walked a few steps behind the group toward the next building, I thought about many things. I thought about my family who had to go into this war and its ugly modern cousin. I thought about the American Soldiers whose DNA was ruined as a result of this terrible man?made chemical. I thought about the sad fact that the toll of was is calculated by casualties and fatalities, rather than a look at all the lives affected by the inhuman sights a person sees in its course. How this measure neglects the affect that war has on a persons view of life and in turn their interactions with the world.

As I stood pondering these things, I felt ashamed for my government’s actions, which took place more than a decade before I was born. Amazingly, not one Vietnamiese person gave so much as a dirty look or made a comment. I felt what I felt was not a result of interpersonal pressure, it was a reflection of who I am.

As I sit in the city which served as the last stand of an unpopular war more than 20 years age, my demeanor is stoic. I have moved past my shame and sorrow into a position which is more productive; the journalist. I now remember just why I got into this game.

It was not to achieve minor accolades and pats on the back for cute features, but to serve as an ambassador between the truth and the knowledge seeking people. I am here to suffer first person hardships to tell everyone what is really happening in our world, and to remind those who may have forgotten. I now feel confident, and have remembered just why I came. Through each stress comes growth, and there is never a hardship without a gift in its hand. It is all about recognizing that gift, and using it as it was intended to be.

~Robert Rizzuto

I write this from the same Internet cafe with 1997 Dell computers & bootleg windows systems, but this place isn’t all bootleg. I had the luxury to enjoy a authentic Vietnamese meal tonight, with all the trimmings. Granted, the trimmings were all things I’ve never seen or eaten before, but it was great!

The people in this place are so similar to the people I know. Some have a good job and are secure with their present & future. Others have nothing and have to hustle from the bottom to make their way through this biological journey. I respect both equally.

I saw a man this morning, probably in his sixties. He was crossing the street, walking with his hands. Human curiosity encouraged me to look longer but my mind overruled that impulse as I assumed that his condition was a result of a terrible conflict of ideas that we were engaged in years ago. I’m not making a political statement, just a statement of observation.

I am however enjoying every minute of my time here with a passion. Earlier today we visited a refuge where “at risk” and escaped girls live. These kids are victims of human trafficking or susceptible to it. When we first entered the rusted gates in a dark Saigon neighborhood, I was concerned for what I might find inside. We sat down for a discussion with the coordinator of the shelter (through a wonderful translator and person named Phong Chi) for an honest talk about the issue. No cameras shooting, no notes being taken, just an old school sit down.

The conversation was amazing and enlightening. I asked what the biggest challenges the institution faced were. The response given was simple and timeless; trying to help people who don’t see a problem or refuse to receive help. It makes perfect sense, but wasn’t the answer I was anticipating as I sat sweating in the summer humidity with a group of 12 social workers and 5 high school student/translators.

What followed was a tour of the facility. The teal walls were offset by the stains of childrens’ dirty hands on the stairwell and water marks from leaks in the tin/plastic roof. The kids were simply amazing. Their faces pushed smiles through the rough exterior they were forced to adopt from the abuses they’ve endured.

I donned a bandanna a couple days ago as a way to discard my insecurities of a receding hairline, and take on another persona of sorts. (Yeah, I’m still honest :?) My group and the children sat in a large circle in plastic lawn chairs on the beautiful jade?tile floors. We sang together, played games, and most importantly laughed. I had a part in helping these children smile and laugh. I can’t express through words how this makes me happy.

When our time together was nearly finished, one of the translator?students approached me saying that this one little girl had a question for me. The girl saw me with my bandanna on and thought I looked like a hip?hop musician she couldn’t name. I was flattered of course. She asked me if I could dance, so I laughed inside and proceeded to give it a shot.

“When hip hop was young in the 80’s, this is how it was done,” I proudly stated. “Watch me…”

I proceeded to do the old school two step side to side with the clap in between. Adding a little more funk to the point of attempting a couple break dance moves on the Asian tile floor. I am getting old, I’ll admit that. But I gave it my all & didn’t come off too bad at all. I had the kids around me smiling and clapping with the beat playing in my mind. (Video will be posted soon :?)

They loved it, even though I wasn’t a great NYC breaker. It was the heart that counted. I did some minor flips and cartwheels to put it on for the kids. It was amazing to see their faces. I would attempt break dancing for an eternity just to keep a smile on their faces.

When all was said and done, I was fortunate to retreat to an air conditioned bus which transported our group today. The biggest thing I took away from this day of my life is the story you just read. The positive feelings I am feeling now are truly indescribable. I can only hope a bit of their essence shines through these words to give a hint of the truth. This world is amazing and the people in it are ALL a part of it. Sometimes you have to abandon comfort to find the truth about yourself and this life, and it is a fair trade. And a great author once said “In order to live free and happy, one must abandon a life of boredom: it’s not always an easy sacrifice.”

I couldn’t agree more. To all who read these words, good night & good luck on your journey, mine is going fine.

~Bobby Rizzuto

As I write this I am surrounded by strangers and traffic on this busy street in Saigon, Vietnam. The sun is burning through the few clouds and the humidity is as wet as rain. I love it here. The plane ride from Chicago to Hong Kong was very long, about 15 hours. We ate several times and I had a stomach to show for it last night. I drank several small Jack Daniels bottles & had a smile to show for that.

The people here are just like the people we all know. Each is a character through and through. One small example, a man with a full but kept beard played a wooden flute while his toddler daughter led him around asking for donations; seemingly a blind?pity gimmick. The open air market in this city is amazing, a true Portabello Road of Southeast Asia. Everything from exotic fruits and beautiful fabrics to bootleg DVD’s and Coach bags can be found here, and of course for a bargain. It is my “journalistic hunch” that these knock?offs are so readily available because many of the producing companies have chosen to manufacture their products here. They intentionally pay these people peanuts so they do what they have to in order to feed the family. It seems to be a residual effect of capitalism driving production to cheaper foreign labor markets. A karmic occurrence if you will.

When exiting the airport last night, after more than 24 hours tied up in the global transit system, I was exhausted and overwhelmed by the beauty of this place and its people, right out of the gate. Chinese and Vietnamese customs definitely put a small chunk of fear in my stomach, but I pushed through, and made it.

All I can say after 12 hours in this country is that people are people, and an outside point of view can be effective in gaining perspective, but not for setting expectations. Lose every expectation you have and take an adventure. Nothing is as scary or dangerous as it seems from a far, especially if you have a little “knowledge of self” in your back pocket. It seems to serve as a map and a compass, leading you to where you need to be and steering you from foul outside intentions.

This is just the view from here, as I sit this afternoon, and watch the beautiful chaos of Vietnam traffic. Thousands of motorbikes cruising with no apparent attention to lanes or others, and a great majority make it home safely to do it again the next day. It is a true soliloquy of chaos and a great metaphor for life. Billions of people all doing what they do, pulling an infinite number of directions, and yet the center still holds. Truly amazing.

Peace from the South East,

Asia that is…

~Bobby Rizzuto