Vietnam

Today is my last day in Vietnam. I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I am eager to see my husband and my dogs. I have carried them with me in my heart these last weeks, thinking of them so often. When it was hard to fall asleep at night, I would think about what they were doing back home in Connecticut, and that would soothe me to sleep. On the other hand, I love this country and am sad to leave it. Vietnam has woven her way into my spirit. Not everything has been easy or peaceful or happy, but the whole web of life here is entrancing.

I have no agenda for the day, so I have been wandering, mostly in the Old Quarter. I started my day with a visit to a pagoda just south of the Old Quarter, Quan Su. I've read that it's one of the busiest pagodas in Hanoi. ("Pagoda" is a word used only for Buddhist temples in Vietnam. There are many other kinds of temples, but only Buddhist temples are "pagodas.") Indeed, there were a number of people chanting, praying, and doing prostrations. Not for the first time, I noted that most of them were women.

Then I slowly walked back to the shores of Hoan Kiem Lake. It was late morning and it's a hot day, so I treated myself to a small cone of green rice ice cream. (My friends and family know that in the U.S., I follow a vegan diet. I have found it challenging to do that while travelling and still stay healthy, so while I am in Vietnam, I am enjoying a vegetarian--but not vegan--diet!)

Then I did some shopping. A friend asked me to bring her a water puppet, so I stopped into several stores until I found one I liked. I hope she likes it, too! The same shop sold items made by some of the indigenous people of Vietnam, and I fell in love with two jackets made by the Hmong people. So those found their way into the bargaining...

For the third time during my stays in Hanoi, I ate at the Hanoi Garden restaurant. It is next door to my hotel, so it's convenient, but it's also lovely and quiet, and the food is good. I chatted with a couple from New Zealand and made notes in my journal. Then I walked to a lovely cafe/restaurant, Moca, near the main cathedral in Hanoi, and sipped what will probably be my last cup of Vietnamese coffee here.

Finally, I walked up to the north end of the Old Quarter to Baguette and Chocolate, a cafe that employs and trains Hanoi street children. They have a delectable selection of French pastries. I had one very small pear tart and wished I had room to sample something else. Now I am back in my lovely hotel, the Hong Ngoc Hotel on Hong Manh street, settled into a cool suite five stories above the horns and motorcycles. (See a few new photos, including one of Hong Ngoc, at the end of my photo album at http://tinyurl.com/2sbdac.)

I'll return to the U.S. with a few items to remind me of this beautiful country, with many photos, and a journal full of memories. It is, however, the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh and the wisdom of the many Dharma friends I met and travelled with that will stay with me the longest. I read an article on the Internet that said over 2,000 people turned out for the Great Requiem ceremony in Hanoi this past weekend. That is such wonderful news! During one of his Dharma talks, Thay said:

"The seeds of Buddhism have sprouted green and fresh in the soil of the West. Practice there is very different than it is in Vietnam. People do not offer fruit and incense. Buddhism in the West is not for devotion but for concrete methods of practice to unravel difficulties. Donation and devotion [as practiced in Vietnam] can help us relieve suffering, but Buddhism isn't only a religion. It is a source of wisdom that can help us and help us to help others."

Integrating traditional Vietnamese Buddhism with the practices of mindfulness that Thich Nhat Hanh has taught so successfully in the West will be an ongoing effort. I have appreciated the soothing effects of devotional Buddhism here, feeling at peace in the incense smoke and dark, cool interiors of the temples. But I also know personally the great benefits of mindfulness practice and wish for all Vietnamese Buddhists that they will find a way to incorporate these beautiful practices into their existing traditions. And I thank them for all that they have taught me during my time as a guest here. Nam mô A-di-đà Phật

Since we have been in Hanoi, there have not been many official activities for the delegation. Yesterday, Sandra and I met our friend in Hanoi, Hiep Pham, for a day's outing. We traveled via city bus to Bat Trang, a village near Hanoi that is famous for its ceramics. Open-air ceramics shops are clustered around a small square. The shops are filled with beautiful ceramics and, increasingly, porcelain, produced for export to other areas of Vietnam and abroad. We browsed for a couple of hours, enjoying the quiet and the cool morning temperatures. Pham helped us negotiate prices for the items we bought. It's usually the case that there is a price for Vietnamese and a price for foreigners. In this instance, it hardly mattered. An exquisite teacup was $.40 for Vietnamese and $.75 for foreigners. Still, we were happy to have Pham save us a few dong, which we then happily spent on a delightful lunch! Pham is great at ordering super vegetarian meals for us, even in non-vegetarian restaurants. We joked that, after a few more days with us, he'd be a vegetarian himself.

The bus ride was really enjoyable. Vietnamese people are quite friendly and are always eager to practice their English, even if it goes no farther than, “Where you from?” and “How old are you?” (We've decided these must be the first two questions that they learn in English class. I suppose no one has told them that, in most places in the English-speaking world, “How old are you?” is not the best opening line with strangers.) We chatted with a couple of students on the bus. One older woman, wearing a distinctive brown hat, eyed us a little warily during the ride out to Bat Trang. On the way back, she boarded the bus with a young man, did a double-take and then gave us the biggest smile. It was sweet to reconnect with her, even though our only relationship was exchanging glances on a bus.

That evening, we went to the Old Quarter to meet Pham for dinner. We arrived early, so we strolled up and down the streets. It's a dizzying bazaar of tiny shops spilling out onto the narrow sidewalks. The sidewalks are for everything but walking. There are displays of merchandise, small outdoor restaurant operations with tiny tables surrounded by Vietnamese having bowls of soup, hundreds—no, thousands—of motorcycles arrayed in lines. All crowded onto already narrow sidewalks.

The streets were traditionally organized around specific trades, and to a large extent, like stores still cluster together. Last night, we wandered around the street devoted to supplies for temples and home altars. The early evening darkness made it very dramatic—the red banners and lights, the gold altar acoutrements, the bright statues.

Today was Sandra's last day in Vietnam, so we planned our agenda around what she most wanted to do. We took a taxi to the largest market in Hanoi and browsed around. Then she suggested going to the Museum of Ethnology, which is very well known. We took a long (and over-priced) taxi ride there and spent several hours going through the museum. There was a special performance of the water puppets in an outdoor pool. Having already seen then in an indoor theatre in Hanoi, it was fun to see them in a more natural setting.

The museum has a large collection of buildings representative of the lifestyles of the many indigenous peoples of Vietnam. This was a side of the country that we missed on our big-city tour, so it was really enjoyable and educational for us.

Tonight, I enjoyed what will probably be my final temple meal. We returned to the Bo De Temple, where we ate yesterday, for a lovely meal. The temple has an orphanage that is home to 40 children, and many of them were running around this evening.

It isn't clear to most of us what the next few weeks in Hanoi will bring for Thay and the monastic and lay delegation. It seems, although no one has told us so, that officials here are not as enthusiastic about this visit as those in other areas of the country. Tomorrow, Thay is giving a Dharma talk at a temple about an hour outside the city, and it is likely that that is where the weekend ceremonies for the deceased will take place. The forthcoming celebrations of the reunification of the country and of May 1st will be an interesting juxtaposition to the Dharma that Thay is bringing to the Vietnamese people.

Tomorrow evening, I leave for Kuala Lumpur to visit my friend, Ivy Wong, and her family for a few days. It will be sad to leave my delegation friends, but our practice teaches us that we really are never separated from each other, so we will try to follow that practice as we say goodbye to each other.

[See new photos at http://www.dotphoto.com/go.asp?l=jumpalagi&P=&AID=4398711&CID=1948278&T=1&E=Y&ILD=3281253

Here are a few snapshot moments of my time in Vietnam...

sunrise over river boats...
people exercising at daybreak near lakes, sea, rivers...
Vietnamese laypeople fanning us at temple as we fanned young monks...
silent meal with 2000 people...
walking meditation with 2000 people...
beautiful 5-color Buddhist flags flying at temples...
tiny lizards in the bedroom...
bats flying at sunset...
cicadas singing...
sitting in a puddle of water listening to a Dharma talk...
standing in formal procession with sweat running down my spine...
listening to talks in Vietnamese and understanding only two phrases: Vietnam and Thich Nhat Hanh...
Vietnamese lady who sat in section reserved for Westerners and hit the guards when they tried to move her.

These are a few of the things I will remember about this trip, and memories that sustain me here when it is challenging to be here. What also sustains me is the mindful practice of the delegation and the love and messages from friends and family back home.

Our last day in Nha Trang, we splurged and treated ourselves to a trip to mud baths. We sat in a tub full of liquid mud and had the whole experience documented by an itinerant photographer! After the mud baths, we sat in the late afternoon sun, waiting for the mud to dry. Then we rinsed off the mud (or tried to rinse off the mud) and headed to a tub filled with hot mineral water. All around us were similar tubs of various sizes. There were mostly Vietnamese people, but some groups of Westerners as well. Then we went to the mineral swimming pool and paddled around until the final stop on our afternoon of self-indulgence--massage.

The massage therapist who drew the short straw and got me was a 20-something-year-old, probably from south Vietnam, although we actually didn't talk much. After hearing for years about the joy of having someone walk on your back, I finally experienced it for myself. She climbed on the massage table and started walking up my legs and onto my back. Every few steps, she'd stop, dig her toes into my back and crack it. Massage and chiropractic all in one! Then she turned me over, massaged my face and head and proceeded to crack my neck.

Earlier in the morning, the delegation was treated to a ferry ride over to Bamboo Island and the Vinpearl resort. Thay had been invited there, and we all accompanied him over. We were given a tour and then taken to a huge air-conditioned auditorium. The resort representative made a few remarks and then the exchange of gifts took place. As always, Thay offered a gift of his calligraphy.

Then Thay went on to tell us about the calligraphy. He sat at a small table on the large stage and, in his very calm and quiet voice, recited to us a line of poetry from a Vietnamese Zen master. The gist of it is this: the silk thread from the stem of the lotus can bind the tiger.

When the stem of a lotus flower is broken, there is a filament inside that holds the pieces together. This thin thread is very, very strong. A friend here told me that, in Burma, they actually harvest the fiber and weave fabric from it. In any event, the significance of this line of poetry is that our habit energies are strong, like a tiger. Our practice, which is gentle but strong, like the thread of the lotus, can calm and control the tiger.

We were all refreshed by this short and unexpected Dharma talk, even those of us who had thought we were going to be treated to a few hours on the beach at this resort. Instead, after the talk, we went to a cable car station and climbed aboard gondolas for the trip back to the mainland. It was a beautiful trip back across the water and is apparently the longest cable car in the world.

Today, we got up early and flew to Hanoi for the final stop on this segment of the trip. About 40 of the lay delegation traveled with Thay and the monastics. It was a treat to be with them, especially away from the craziness of the photographers who follow Thay everywhere.

It is good to be back in Hanoi, which feels a bit like home. It is cooler here and overcast. The traffic is horrible, and the pollution is stifling, but it is still a pleasure to be here.

On Friday, the heat, frustration of travel, changing schedules, close quarters, and fatigue seemed to set in for many of us. For much of the day, things seemed discombobulated, out of sync. But a good nap, some cool drinks, and a walk around town restored our spirits.

Nha Trang, like most of the cities in Vietnam we have visited, seems to be on the verge of an economic boom. There are numerous large hotels being built within a short distance of the beach. What was once a sleepy fishing village is now a destination for tourists from Asia and from the West. There is good diving here, so we see dive shops and companies offering outings. The beach is lovely, wrapping around a bay and looking across at mountains that seem to rise straight out of the sea. I haven't been in the water yet, but I'm told it's wonderful—very warm, which is wonderful by my standards! It seems the currents are also strong.

This is the first place I've seen a lot of litter. One of my friends here, who lives in India, said it was the first place she'd been that reminded her of India in that way. It would seem important, if Nha Trang really wants to capitalize on tourism, that they find a way to stem the tide of litter.

We went this morning to Long Son Pagoda, which was founded in the late 19th century. There is a huge white statue of the Buddha at the top of a hill on the property. He gazes out over the city and can be seen from many places down below.

The abbot of Long Son is an old friend of Thich Nhat Hanh, and many greetings were exchanged between the two octogenarians. There was clearly a great deal of affection. At one point, Thich Nhat Hanh commented that the abbot had been “a cute novice,” and that even now that he was older, he was so fresh and lively that he could “take a bite out of his cheeks,” which, in fact, do look a lot like apples. We were served lunch there today. Two soups, one warm and one cold...fresh pineapple...a salad of mushrooms with tomato sauce...vegetables...fried tofu croquettes...and the most divine coconut buns for dessert. As with all the temple food we've enjoyed, this was prepared with so much love that you could taste it!

The cathedral, which we visited yesterday, is also built on a promontory. Mass was taking place as we arrived just after 5, so we enjoyed a little of the beautiful ceremony, which concluded with some of the congregation walking out to a small alcove with a statue of the Virgin Mary to pray before leaving.

This afternoon, I've had some time to go back through the notes I've taken during some of Thay's Dharma talks. Much of the time, I just listen—a practice we call “Dharma rain,” just soaking up the teaching the way the earth soaks up the rain. But sometimes, the teachings are so wonderful, that I just have to make a note or two. Here are a few excerpts. If you do not understand them, treat them like Dharma rain.

Anger is like a fist. Mindfulness is like an open hand that can embrace it, like a mother who drops everything to attend to a crying child. We should acknowledge the suffering and embrace it. This is our practice.

We are like clouds. Clouds are not born, nor do they die. They can change form. They can become rain or snow. But they do not die. The cloud is in our tea, as water. The cloud is in our bodies, as blood. In the relative/conditioned realm, birth and death exist. But in the ultimate realm, they do not. We think when we die, we will no longer be here. We think when our loved ones die, that they are no longer around, but that is not true. Yesterday's cloud is today's rain. Our loved ones are still there and may be close to us. Like clouds, we manifest when conditions are appropriate and change forms when conditions are no longer appropriate.

Breathing in, I invite my father to breathe in with me.
Breathing out, I feel joy.
Breathing in, I smile to the mother within me.
Breathing out, I invite my mother to breathe out with me at the same time.
The two of us together, breathing in, what great joy.
Breathing out, I invite my mother to breath out with me at the same time.
The two of us breathing out together, such great joy.
Breathing in, I fell well.
Breathing in, do you feel well, mother?
Breathing out, I feel light.
Breathing out, do you feel light, mother?
Today I am here with my father.
Today, I invite my mother to sit with me.
It is a great joy.

(With love to my parents, who are with me here, now, and always.)