Forty Years Later... In Vietnam... on Phu Quoc

I first learned about the war in Vietnam from my mother when she took me to a peace rally to protest the war, on the grounds of the Vancouver Art Gallery.  It was 1969.  I was 15. My little brother was 5. I don't remember if my sisters were there. But I do remember there were lots of people.  Wearing black arm bands, singing protest songs that were popular at the time... and marching. Those were heady, hopeful times. And in the years that followed, until the war ended in 1975 and draft dodgers were pardoned by Jimmy Carter in 1977, I learned about the risks that many young... too young... American men... no, boys!... draft dodgers, evading conscription by escaping to Canada... were willing to take in order to exercise their politics, their religion, their anti-war convictions, their fear.  I even entertained the idea of marrying an American boy I didn't even know in exchange for his safety.  Yes... those were times of naive innocence... and ignorance. 

Ever since the American war... as it is referred to here.... on the other side of the world, Vietnam has been grieving. And so, I come here on the heels of my own grieving with a curiousity to know what fills the holes... both literal and metaphorical... of despicable loss the size of an entire country.  

I'm travelling with my sister. The one I've written about before. The one whose recently experienced her own losses... of the life changing, anxiety inducing, intestinal kind. Our last journey together was about enduring unexpected, knock-the-wind-out-of-me, shock. This journey is about finding gratitude for each other and forgiveness in ourselves. 

And so we begin on Phu Quoc island off the southern tip of Vietnam. Having been repeatedly dominated over centuries by entitled parties, notably France, the US and Cambodia. And... while still recovering from ghosts of the past. On this tiny isle... comes perfection... in process.  

My knowledge about present day Vietnam is minimal to none. What I'm learning is that some holes can be filled with tourism. The tourist industry here is still in its infancy but potential is everywhere. If you want to see a tourist mecca in the making, come here. The Russians have already discovered it. And although Russian tourism is down compared to recent years, due to a failing ruble, the second language here isn't English. It's Russian! US tourists are few. But we have run into some Canadians. And savvy merchants from Kashmir. 

So my advice is... come now!!! Before it's too late. Unlike Mexico it's safe. Unlike Hawaii, it's not converted by US commercialism. Unlike Europe it doesn't suffer from entitlement. The food is superb. The sea is warm. The beaches are clean.  Tonight we head back to Ho Chi Min City, aka Saigon. We'll move up the east coast to Hanoi. 

More stories to come.