Traveling Light

A funny thing happened at the Jesse Griego Kindergarten dedication. My friend Jim suddenly discovered he'd lost a lot of weight.

Because he says it so beautifully, I asked Jim if I could quote him here. With his permission, I share his words.

"The first time I went to Viet Nam, I experienced things and came home with a set of memories. I have carried those memories like a heavy pack for a long time. Now I have gone back to Viet Nam and experienced new things and have a whole new set of memories to dwell upon. At the moment the dedication plaque at the Jesse Kindergarten was unveiled, I felt the pack was not so heavy anymore. There is just a lightness about all of it. Peace.

"Jesse's mission is complete and I hope thousands of children pass through the school doors to learn and have fun. I was able to set Jesse's spirit free and in doing so, realized that for the first time in forty-one years, it is OK to be alive."

And how very, very glad I am that you are.

Bless you, my friend Jim. Now and always, I wish you peace.

NGO...EOD...UXO...QTP

While I'm prone to get most excited about schools and trees and micro-credit loans, those are only part of what PeaceTrees does so well. The other part -- without which the rest would be moot -- has to do with UXO and EOD.

For many of us (and by "us" I mean "me"), all those letters sound a bit like alphabet soup. So here's a quick primer.

PeaceTrees is a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) that sponsors Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) teams to remove UneXploded Ordnance (UXO) in Quang Tri Province (QTP). OK -- I made up the QTP. But the rest of the acronyms are correct.

Now -- the ABCs of what it all means.

UXO is Unexploded Ordnance, described by the UN as "Explosive munitions such as mortars, artillery shells, grenades and mines, that have been primed, fused, armed or otherwise prepared for use or used. They could have been fired, dropped, launched, or projected yet remain unexploded either through function or design." This is the ugly, nasty, leftover stuff of war. It doesn't dissolve or biodegrade or disappear. It stays dangerous. It can look like a toy to a child, a source of profit to a poor entrepreneur, or it can simply be invisible to the farmer plowing a field. Pictured above are some mock-ups that PTVN (that's PeaceTrees Vietnam) uses for training children.

I've read varying statistics on the amount of ordnance used in Quang Tri Province from 1965-75, but it's almost always measured in tons per person. Tons. Per person. One source says the amount in Quang Tri -- which is roughly the size of Rhode Island -- exceeded all the ordnance used in Europe during World War II.

PeaceTrees' EOD team is a group of Vietnamese UXO-removal specialists who are trained to UN standards. They clear acreage for specific projects like the new Kindergarten; they also respond to calls from Quang Tri residents who find UXO. Highly volatile items might be destroyed on-site. Other items are removed, cached, and destroyed weekly.

The EOD team is responding to anywhere from 1,200 to 1,400 calls per month. There are plenty of false alarms, but the majority are real. If memory serves me correctly, they're destroying about 900 pieces of UXO monthly. And -- to their very great credit -- no one has ever been injured on the job.

We visited the team on March 21 after the Jesse Kindergarten dedication; they were working in an area near Khe Sanh. They led us to the cache site and showed us what they'd collected -- three days' worth.

We also learned that at the Jesse school, the EOD team had cleared 48 pieces of UXO prior to construction. Quite literally, none of the PTVN projects would be possible without them.

A very big thanks to this amazing team of EOD professionals for their life-saving work. They are, without a doubt, a TCA (Total Class Act).

Tell My Story

I'm back in Seattle now, enjoying a spot of sunshine in an otherwise very wet day and trying to decide if it violates some sort of basic blog rule if I keep posting these entries after my travels are done. But given that we crammed about forty days' worth of activities into a nine-day trip, I'm giving myself permission. And so... I'll continue to tell my story.

I'll begin with a long-neglected introduction.

Who was David Warner?

Water-skier, ravine-climber, pond-paddler, snow-skier, motorcycle-rider, smallest kid on the football team.

Ayn Rand reader, philosophizer, music-lover, photographer.

Mischief-maker, sister-provoker, quick-witted, kind-hearted, risk-taker.

Honest, funny, Eagle Scout, generous, savvy, brave, wry, tender at the bone.

First-born, devoted son, loyal friend, loving boyfriend, and One Awesome Big Brother.

Dave volunteered for the Marine Corps and he served well. He wanted to go to Vietnam - first for personal reasons (in one of his tapes home he explains, "I figure if you're ever going to learn about yourself, that's where it's going to be and your true beliefs are going to come out there.") There were other reasons -- political, pragmatic, economic -- but ultimately, as he said, "I have confidence in my own ability."

Those who were in Vietnam with him describe him as a good mentor, good leader, good friend, always willing to listen, always willing to serve.

Four years ago I made a promise. On that first trip to Hue City Chuck Meadows, my brother's former commanding officer, took me to the area where Dave lost his life. Standing at the edge of a shimmering, vibrant green rice paddy that day, I had an unexpected and profound sense of my brother's presence. It was as though he said two things: "I've been waiting for you," and "Tell my story."

And so I have, and so I will: in words, with a little school in A Xing, and by trying my best to spend my days as he might have done -- "living in color and laughing out loud." (Shawn Colvin)

The Butterfly Forest

It was set to be another stiflingly hot, muggy day in Dong Ha as we headed to the Danaan Perry Landmine Education Center (LEC for short). The van bumped down a rutted, red-dirt road and turned into a tree-lined driveway. Another few hundred yards and the air became cooler, sweeter, greener... and there we were.

We met with landmine victims that day, including Hoa, whose story and photo appeared in an earlier entry. We also had the chance to plant trees.

A forested park is no small thing in Quang Tri Province -- especially a safe forested park. The LEC sits on acres of land cleared of UXO. Past PeaceTrees travelers have planted thousands of trees, the oldest ones now easily ten times our height. Children come here from around the province for a weekend of fun and landmine education. In May the park will be filled with 400-500 young campers competing in artwork contests, looking at wooden models of dangerous ordnance, talking with landmine victims, playing games. Like a safe forest, a camping trip is no small thing in Quang Tri Province. It will be a great weekend for the kids.

Most of the trees in the park are acacias, planted when they were waist-high saplings. We planted taller trees that day, hardwoods. I liked the sense of permanence in their strong trunks and smooth bark. We planted on a slope that dipped down to a muddy stream where we filled our watering cans. Working alongside our Vietnamese PeaceTrees partners we added seventy trees to the forest, including several planted in remembrance of friends and family members.

For me, our tree-planting both honored the past and celebrated the future. As the trees grow, their roots will keep them grounded and their branches will stretch toward the sun. I like to think my own growth in Vietnam has been much the same.

Call it coincidence, but on my prior trips small yellow butterflies have made some uncanny cameo appearances. They have consistently shown up at moments of significance or remembrance. Even on this trip, a yellow butterfly flew right alongside my window for several minutes as our plane taxied to the terminal at Hue/PhuBai airport, my personal welcoming committee. So it seemed fitting that as we planted and dedicated new trees we were kept company by dozens of butterflies -- not just yellow ones this time, but orange, iridescent blue, black, striped, spotted... like winged works of art. It felt as though what had once symbolized remembrance now represented a joyful future. One of our travelers christened the place "the Butterfly Forest," and the name stuck. I hope our little grove will welcome Vietnamese children for many generations to come.

When I got back to the hotel that night, Hoa -- the landmine survivor -- had sent me an email. It said simply, "Dear Miss Sue: Today I am very happy."

Dear Hoa: Today, so am I.

Dong Ha Doings

With all the excitement on Saturday I was just a little concerned that the next part of the trip might be anticlimactic. I needn't have been.

The past few days have been full, as evidenced by the lack of updates.

Sunday we took in some of Quang Tri's better-known tourist sites, visiting the Vinh Moc Tunnels and Ben Hai River Bridge, swimming and lunching at Cua Tung beach, and paying our respects at the Truong Son Cemetery, the Arlington of (North) Vietnam. Details are readily available via "the Google," so I'll spare them here. We bade farewell that evening to our friends from the Quang Tri Department of Foreign Affairs and the head of the Women's Union, packed our bags and got an abbreviated night's sleep... up early the next morning and off to Hue City.

Much more to share about Hue, Hanoi, tree-planting, and what it all means, but my flight's departing in just few minutes. Stay tuned!

Growing and Thriving

Two years ago today we dedicated the David Warner Kindergarten, on what would have been Dave's sixty-first birthday. It's the present that keeps on giving: the school is thriving and fifty happy children attend every day.

Pulling up to the front gate I initially didn't recognize the place -- the trees we planted in March 2007 have grown into a beautiful, shady grove.

Friends and neighbors were waiting on the front steps when we arrived, and the kids were ready to receive us with very enthusiastically-performed songs.


The atmosphere in the classroom is dynamic and happy; the yellow walls are covered in learning aids, decorations, and student artwork.

We stopped for gift-giving and picture-taking, then said our good-byes... till next time.



Happy birthday, David. You'll be glad to know that your kids are doing just fine.

Dedication Day

Just a quick update before my head hits the pillow.

Today - March 21 in Vietnam - we had the joy and honor of dedicating the Jesse Griego Kindergarten in a little village called A Xing, populated by Van Kieu and Pa Co ethnic minority people.


Nearly 200 children and adults were waiting when we arrived and welcomed us warmly. Various community and provincial dignitaries gave their speeches, and then Jim shared a few words - eloquent and straight from the heart. Some of the new Kindergartners performed songs and dances (enjoyed by all, and much too cute for words). And finally, Jim and the other speakers went to the wall of the school and unveiled the dedication plaque.

We shared lunch with the dignitaries -- A Xing home cooking, eaten with hands and/or chopsticks, sharing a common jug of rice hooch, seated on floor mats in the new classroom (I keep reminding myself that any food prepared with love has to be good for me... but I did dodge the chicken feet). The rest of the village shared the celebratory meal outside. Next it was time to hand out sweets and presents to the many, many children who were there, and to present the Kindergarten teacher with bundles of supplies for the new classroom, generously donated by my friends from Southminster Presbyterian.

So many beautiful children, now with a brighter future. Jesse's life on earth was short, but thanks to Jim and the wonderful donors who contributed to the project, his legacy will last for a long, long time.

Here's to Jesse, and here's to Jim.
Semper Fi.

Visiting Mrs. Thu

We spent most of yesterday in a small village south of Dong Ha visiting recipients of microcredit loans. A long-time PeaceTrees partner, the Quang Tri Province Women's Union, manages the program. Each $200 low-interest loan goes to a woman-headed family (the women may be married, but have primary responsibility for the day-to-day operation of the household). By investing in a pig, or a cow, or a sewing machine, these women have managed to significantly increase their family incomes.

One stop was at the tailor's. Last August she was given a microcredit loan that enabled her to purchase two sewing machines. She and her daughter set up shop. Within a few months they made enough to purchase a serger. Now they run a successful business: their monthly income has increased from $60 to $100, and it's still growing.






Outside the tailor's shop, by the way, Jim was making friends with about 30 village schoolkids. They practiced their English and he practiced his Vietnamese, and the laughter was gloriously bi-lingual.



We also had the joy of meeting a pig farmer and her mother-in-law. They welcomed us warmly into their home, poured us cups of tea, talked about their family and about the pig-rearing business. The mother-in-law, Mrs. Thu, didn't speak much - but her 73-year-old face glowed with kindness. Her hug made my day. That's Mrs. Thu in the middle of the picture, being serious for the photo. What a privilege to meet her -- a little tiny woman with a great big heart. And how exciting to see the positive impact of the loans: a little bit of money, but a great big impact on the lives of the recipients.

The Happiest Place on Earth

This morning we visited an incredibly happy PeaceTrees Friendship Village Kindergarten, located on the former U.S. Marine Corps base in Dong Ha. Cleared of ordnance, the old base is now a community of 100 homes, a small meeting hall, and a three-room kindergarten where we received a very enthusiastic welcome. The kids had worked up a few musical numbers -- here's a sampling:

The kids in this classroom were between two and four years old. The neighboring classroom had the older kids, who received us with equal enthusiasm and even higher decibels. They were also both awestruck and delighted by my friend Jim, and took to him right away:

Jim's the one with the green hat.

After lots of singing and present-giving and waving and "bye-byeing" we took a walk through the village. The houses are cement construction, three rooms each, with electricity and plumbing - a significant step up from the lean-tos and one-room buildings where the families had previously lived. Residents are given use of the homes by PeaceTrees; if they stay for ten years, they are then given ownership. Access to good housing and schools has created economic opportunities; we visited one man who built an addition on his house to accommodate a commercial rice-grinder and a pig sty. He is selling rice flour throughout the province, his children are doing well in school and the future looks promising. Living in Friendship Village was the jumpstart he needed for his family to prosper. Even the pigs looked happy!

Fast-forward to after lunch and the Danaan Perry Landmines Education Center. Children come here from all over the province to learn about the risks of unexploded ordnance (UXO) and how to avoid injury. We were privileged to meet with three land-mine victims; each has received assistance from PeaceTrees. One is a 45-year-old mother who lost both legs when a piece of ordnance exploded as she was digging in her garden. The other two are 18-year-old boys. All three are active in educating children about UXO.


The bomb that injured Nguyen Duc Hoa was being salvaged by a scrap metal dealer. Nguyen was five years old at the time. Now he is taking university entrance exams and hoping to major in economics; he also practices English at every opportunity.

Talking with the landmine victims was quite a contrast with this morning's smiling Kindergarteners, and a reminder of why we're here. Maybe someday the land in Quang Tri will be completely cleared of unexploded ordnance, and mothers and fathers and children will be able to garden, farm and play freely. Relatively speaking, that just might be the happiest place on earth.

Introducing Jim Lewis

Three degrees and forty-one years -- that's how Jim Lewis, my sister and I are connected. (That's my sister Marci Williams on the left and Jim in the middle; I'm on the right.)

Jim was a Marine with Golf Company, second batallion, fifth marines (G 2/5) in 1968. He served from early 1968 until autumn, when he was critically wounded. Actually, it's a wonder he survived. But that's a story Jim can tell another day.

Once mended Jim started down an unlikely hopscotch of a career path... police officer, helicopter pilot, stuntman, actor, Hollywood cameraman. Now retired and living in Florida, he occasionally attends G2/5 events. That, of course, was how we met -- in September of 2007, at the Washington D.C. retirement ceremony for former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Peter Pace (also a G 2/5 veteran).

As I've gotten to know Jim over the past 17 months I have come to appreciate his integrity, his his creative energy, his capacity to be amazed, his humor, and his compassion.

When I met Jim what I didn't know were the intricacies of how we were connected. My brother David was a squad leader in Hue City. David's fire team leader was a fine Marine by the name of Billy Tant. When Dave was killed, Billy Tant took over as squad leader. Some weeks later Jim arrived. He became Billy's fire team leader. When Billy was promoted, Jim became squad leader... for me, it's kind of like an inheritance from Dave.

Continuing with the connect-the-dots exercise, a young man named Jesse Griego also served with Dave and Billy Tant in Hue, and later became close friends with Jim. Jesse was killed on July 16, 1968; the new Kindergarten in A Xing has been built in his honor through Jim's fundraising efforts.

Now really, what's the likelihood that all these threads would come together after so many years? As a friend says, "when I stopped believing in miracles, the coincidences stopped happening." I delight in the "coincidences" of connections and of being here with Jim and the PeaceTrees delegation. And I wait with great expectancy for the coincidences that surely lie ahead.

Great Expectations

"Show up. Pay attention. And don't be overly attached to the outcome." That was the message on Sunday morning and the timing couldn't have been better.

This is my third trip to Vietnam. The first was with some trepidation, the second with much anticipation. And this one? I'm wrestling with expectation: expectation of what our group will do, where we'll go, what we'll see, even what we'll feel. I want to approach this week with no preconceptions, no "been there, done that." In short: I want to show up and pay attention.

I arrived Hanoi late last night, got a good rest, and spent today walking through the old quarter and twice around Hoan Kiem Lake. From the hotel I strolled down skinny streets clogged with weaving motorbikes and crouching sidewalk vendors, wandered past stores specializing in everything from headboards to headstones, and finally reached the path around Hoan Kiem. The air was grey and heavy, traffic manic, and the lake a whisper-still sanctuary in the midst of it all. White-haired men and women practiced tai-chi at the water's edge; schoolgirls gossiped and giggled; twenty-somethings flexed their cell-phone texting muscles; and young couples sat entwined on the benches, oblivious to anything but each other. It all seemed familiar, yet at the same time completely wonderful and foreign and new.

Tomorrow morning we fly to Hue, then drive on to Dong Ha where we'll begin our work with PeaceTrees. I hope that my time there, too, will be both familiar and wonderfully new. May I have no expections... except, perhaps, the expectation that I can practice showing up and paying attention, knowing that whatever the outcome, it's going to be a great adventure.

The American School

The David Warner Kindergarten has been serving the village of A Xing for two years now. For the locals it's known simply as The American School, and it's doing good work.

Nutritious meals. This is an area where malnutrition is a very real problem. The school has a kitchen: Kindergartners get a nutritious lunch without having to go home mid-day. This also allows their parents to continue working (most are farmers, and may work some distance from the village). And the lunch program isn't limited to the Kindergartners: other parents bring their children to the school at lunch time, knowing that their little ones will get at least one healthy meal that day.

Landmine awareness. Unexploded ordnance (UXO) is a significant danger in the A Xing area. Trouble is, all the awareness materials were in Vietnamese... and many Montagnards in the region don't speak Vietnamese. The Kindergarten -- the first NGO project in this region -- brought the problem to light for PeaceTrees. They've secured a State Department grant to provide landmine awareness training to the local population in the local language. This is, quite literally, saving lives.

Preparation for successful schooling. Children in the A Xing area often speak only their tribal language. This puts them at a great disadvantage when they start primary school, which is conducted in Vietnamese. The Kindergarten gives them a running start at the unfamiliar language, and a chance at academic success.

I leave for Vietnam one week from tomorrow. I can't wait to get to A Xing and see our American School -- David's school -- and the good work that's being done.

A New Kindergarten -- Again!

When I met Jim Lewis in the basement of a D.C. area fish restaurant 17 months ago I never would have dreamed we'd be traveling to Vietnam together. But traveling we are -- in just a few weeks -- to dedicate the Jesse Griego Kindergarten in A Xing, Quang Tri Province. Jim has sponsored the project in partnership with PeaceTrees Vietnam.

Jim served in Vietnam in 1968. Like my brother, he was a Marine with Golf 2/5. Their time didn't overlap; Dave was killed before Jim arrived. But they had a mutual friend in Jesse. Jesse's story, and the story of Jim and the new Kindergarten, are told in an excellent Palm Beach Post interview and article: http://www.palmbeachpost.com/search/content/accent/epaper/2008/07/25/a1e_jimlewis_web_0725.html.

On March 21 we'll be dedicating the new school and visiting the David Warner Kindergarten -- fittingly, the two are not far apart. I am eager to return, to see my friend Jim's work completed, to honor two fine legacies, and to join the children and families of A Xing in celebration. I hope you'll share the journey with me.

The Next Chapter

“…In truth, grief is a great teacher, when it sends us back to serve and bless the living. Thus, even when they are gone, they are with us… We remember them now, they live in our hearts; they are an abiding blessing.” - Gates of Prayer, The New Union Prayer Book

I’ve been home from Vietnam two-and-a-half weeks. I expected that by now I would have had ample time to reflect on the trip, gather my thoughts and write some terrific final chapter to the Kindergarten story. But the truth is I’m still steeping in the experience, still putting my thoughts together, and finally realizing that the Kindergarten is just one chapter in a bigger story.

My journey to Vietnam started with the loss of a brother nearly forty years ago; my involvement with PeaceTrees and the Vietnamese people will, I hope, continue for many years to come. I love the fact that something rooted in sorrow has now spread its branches in joy, and am reminded of a quote by John Welwood: "…the heart cannot actually break, it can only break open. When we feel both our love for this world and the pain of this world—together, at the same time—the heart breaks out of its shell. To live with an open heart is to experience life full-strength." This trip was filled with moments of open-hearted, full-strength wonder.

The images that stay with me are a patchwork of contrasts: shimmering emerald rice paddies and the jumbled concrete buildings of roadside towns; a profusion of butterflies and streets buzzing with motor scooters; older faces lined with stories and younger faces shining with possibilities. Over and over I saw juxtapositions of rural traditions and urban commercialism, old and new, east and west. But the images that remain most vivid – the ones I see when I close my eyes – are those of children. They are images of eager eyes, shy smiles, laughter, curiosity, delight, and hope.

And then there’s the David Warner Kindergarten. Being in A Xing, being able to see the results of so many people’s gifts and efforts, was both humbling and exhilarating. I wish everyone who was part of the project – donors, supporters, encouragers – could have been there to share in the celebration. For me, the school represents a timeless community of family and friends. It is peacemaking at the most basic level. It is tangible compassion. To all those who made it possible: my deepest, heartfelt thanks.

So… now what? The trip is over, but the work is not. There is more to do at the David Warner Kindergarten. The kitchen has been built, but the school needs funds for food. The fence has been built, but families still need microcredit loans that will create economic growth and self-sufficiency. And as always, there are more people to meet, more trees to plant, more friendships to forge.

I hope everyone who has been involved with the Kindergarten will consider making a PeaceTrees trip, and I hope everyone with an interest in PeaceTrees will let others know about the good work that is being done. I invite you to pass along my blog link and the PeaceTrees URL. The more people who are aware of the needs and opportunities, the more good we can do together.

I’ll still be posting a link to my photo albums, and there may be more stories and updates to share in the future. But for now I turn the page with gratitude, and look forward with hope and anticipation to the next chapter. Thanks, one and all, for an extraordinary and joyful journey.

Love,

Sue

And the Food Award Goes to...

By all rights I should have gained ten pounds on this trip. If you've never thought of Vietnam as a dining destination, think again. The cuisine is complex and sophisticated; richly-spiced, but not spicy-hot. It reflects French and Chinese influences, but is distinctively different from either.

In celebration of our most memorable meals, here are my award-winning favorites. I'm ready for an encore any time. The envelope, please...

Best presentation: Prawns poached in young coconut milk, served in a hollowed, husk-encased coconut with a couple of decorative green onion 'straws'.

Best sound effects: the staccato *pop*pop*pop* of moist towelette packages before every restaurant meal. Do like the locals do: squeeze the packet in one hand, smack it with the palm of the other. POP!

Best soup: Pho, of course. Beef. Huge bowls of it, accompanied by fresh basil, cilantro, bean sprouts, and chopped red chili peppers.

Best meal: The feast prepared by Mr. Duc’s wife, Gai, in their tiny Hue home (see “Hue a la Duc” for details). Next time, I want cooking lessons.

Best special effects: A whole fish, battered and deep fried, festooned with some of the scales, served in the upright and swimming position. The waiter used his chopsticks to artfully remove a chunk of the delicate white meat, which was served in a thin rice wrapper with fresh vegetables.

Best supporting garnish: hard-cooked quail eggs, cut in half and arranged in concentric circles with cashews on a meat dish.

Best foreign actor: Baguette – it’s what’s for breakfast. Pack the peanut butter and pass the Laughing Cow cheese.

Best spring roll: The classic Hoi An roll, wrapped in shredded threads of dough and deep fried. It’s the crispiest!

Best performance by a single ingredient: Snake – inside and outside, tip to tail, start to finish. It's a living reptile AND a dinner! It’s an entrée AND a beverage! It’s also skin fritters, and soup, and spring rolls, and stir fry... oh, and let’s wash it down with one of those snake blood shooters. Supper of champions!

Best beverage: The ever-popular café sua nam – drip filter coffee served with copious amounts of sweetened, condensed milk. The runner up in this category is the also-popular Huda brand Very Light Lager Beer. Huda best? You da best!

Best ice cream: Anything but durian fruit. Honest – I thought it was supposed to taste better than it smelled. WHY would people eat something that has the intense odor (and I'm being charitable here) of old laundry? "Gosh, this is foul... let's eat it! No, wait -- let's turn it into ice cream!"

Most exotic fruit: This is a tough category - so many contenders! But the award goes to the dragon fruit. Hot pink on the outside, it has a starkly-white flesh that is peppered with tiny black seeds. It's somewhat flavorless, but when you're that beautiful, who cares?

Best dessert: What? You mean there was dessert?

Hanoi and Homecoming

How strange to wake to frost in the garden this morning, instead of a fog of condensation billowing from a hotel room air conditioner. Add "weather whiplash" to the list of homecoming adjustments -- a list which includes "boy, it's nice not to have to squat," "here's 120,000 dong - keep the change," "please pass the pumpkin vines," and "hey, where are all my wonderful travel buddies?"

It would be unfair to Vietnam if I didn't describe Hanoi. It struck me as a city of contrasts: Chinese and Viet, ancient and modern, reserved and entrepreneurial, contemplative and crazy-busy. Vestiges of colonialism are still found in the cuisine, the French quarter, and the elegance of the Metropole Hotel. And yet this is the city of Ho Chi Minh: his government, his home, and even his preserved body (on display for the public, touched-up annually, with a better-than-Botox complexion).

Hanoi smiles are subtler, shyer, slower than in the south. In a few instances -- usually with older people -- my greetings were met with stares, nothing else. It made me wonder what else those eyes had seen through the years. There were 58,000 U.S. fatalities in the Vietnam War; if we had lost the same percentage of our population as the Vietnamese, that number would have been 10 million. Perhaps the cool formality I observed was merely a cultural difference, but I couldn't help but think that my American face might be a reminder of some long-ago loss.

Our hotel was located in Hanoi's old quarter: narrow streets, tiny storefronts, street vendors, souvenir shops, taxis, tourists, and the ubiquitous motorbikes. As with Saigon, just one false step differentiates a pedestrian from a speed bump. In search of some calm and quiet on our last full day, I went out for an early-morning walk around the small and lovely Hoan Kiem Lake.

Though ringed with commercial buildings and relentless, honking traffic, the lake and its surrounding park provide a small oasis of tranquility. At 6:30 a.m. there were already plenty of locals there, most of them senior citizens, doing tai-chi and playing badminton. My favorite was the little woman in her '80's who was all by herself, smiling widely and dancing at the lake shore. It looked like she was doing a cross between the Charleston and the chicken dance - whatever it was, it made her very happy. Made me happy, too. Would that I could greet each day that joyfully.

Centered and refreshed, I joined up with some fellow travelers to spending the day shopping, dining and touring. This turned out to be a far better option than packing, as a power failure left our rooms swelteringly hot. We visited the Temple of Literature (the lit-lover in me swoons at this concept -- can you imagine such a thing in the U.S.?) and dined at a place with fabulous Vietnamese food called KOTO -- "know one, teach one" -- that trains disadvantaged kids for careers in the catering and hospitality industries. Back to the hotel... still no power, so there was only one solution: ice cream. By the time we licked up the last delicious drips (coffee flavor - I learned the hard way to avoid the exotic fruits) the power was back on and it was time to dress and depart for our farewell dinner. I was privileged to travel with a great group - so many experiences, insights, and stories. The trip has been the richer for sharing it with all of them.

During the next two weeks I'll offer a final few posts. Watch for photos (these ones with captions), some notes on food, plans for future projects, and some closing thoughts after I've had time to reflect on and integrate more of our experiences. Thanks again for being part of my journey.

11,000 Words

Our last day in Vietnam and finally I'm able to post some images from the past two weeks. We depart Hanoi tomorrow morning. Time to pack my bags -- more stories and photos to come once I'm home.

For now, I'll close with the lyrics to a popular Vietnamese children's song:

We come here to meet each other.
Our lives are happy but busy.
You and I live in harmony
Knowing we will see each other again.

Hue à la Duc

Hue is an elegant and vibrant city that has embraced tourism. It's a bit of a jolt after Dong Ha, Land of No Tourists Whatsoever, where we pretty much felt like rock stars (EVERY kid said hello, every group of teenagers stared and giggled, every adult smiled and waved). But while I was concerned that we might not get to scratch below the tourist trade's surface here, I could not have been more mistaken -- thanks to Mr. Duc.

Duc runs a one-man taxi service with a small motorbike - an upgrade from the cyclo bicycle-taxi he used to pedal around the city. Chuck met him several years ago during a visit to Hue and they've been friends ever since. Being friends of Mr. Chuck landed four of us a dinner invitation to Duc's home where we met his lovely family and ate a fantastic home-cooked Vietnamese feast of spring rolls, fish, squid, noodles and home-grown bananas. The meal was made more atmospheric by the muggy-hot weather, the hum of insects and evening bird calls, and by a power outage that left everyone in Duc's village using candlelight. We weren't just a world away - it felt like we'd stepped back in time.

This morning Duc recruited his friends and arranged a countryside motorbike tour for Chuck, Cindy and me. The back of a bike at 30 miles per hour, buzzing down skinny streets and country lanes along the Perfume River, is a perfect way to experience the area. We also got a culture-and-history fix, stopping at tombs of two Nguyen Dynasty emperors set in serene park-like grounds. As we strolled through the temples and ruins, butterflies danced in the trees around us and the air was sweet and heavy with plumeria. It felt alternately like Disneyland and holy ground.

Next we went from the sacred to the mundane to the exquisite: we left the tombs, zipped back to the hotel, stopped for a lunch where I ate my body weight in fried noodles, then lumbered off in a cyclo to visit Hue's best known landmark, the Citadel. Though seriously damaged during the Tet Offensive in 1968, 80 out of 300 structures survived and a number have been restored to their 19th century appearance with elaborate painting, carvings, mosaic designs and tiled roofs.

Tomorrow we depart Hue for Hanoi. We'll see Duc again before we go, and perhaps take another quick spin on the motorbike. (I LIKE motorbikes! Who knew?) I've put together a small photo album for him with pictures from last night's visit. (Yes - I can print them, but I still can't post them. Sorry!) How wonderful it's been to get beyond the surface and to have the privilege of seeing Hue from the inside out. Vive le Duc!

Gifts

When we visited the landmine awareness training center a few days ago we had the chance to talk with some young UXO victims. They told us a little bit about their experiences - some had been injured when friends played with UXO, others when items accidentally detonated in the hands of scrap-metal-dealing neighbors or family members.

The kids are great friends of PeaceTrees: they volunteer their time to help with land mine risk awareness training, talking with other children about the dangers and consequences of UXO.

With PeaceTrees' help these kids have received medical care and have been able to continue their education. Still, there are outstanding needs.

One young man who'd lost his hand, age fourteen or so, mentioned that he very much wanted a bicycle to get to school; his family was too poor to buy one (the cost is about $50 US). Enter Santa Claus, disguised as fellow-traveler Bruce, a Navy Corpsman here during the war. He talked to the PeaceTrees staff about the bicycle and said to "make it so." They did, and our entire contingent had the fun of being Bruce's elves and delivering the bike to the boy's countryside home two days later. His family has a small farm; they grow cassava, jackfruit and pepper (the spice, not the vegetable). Their little house is nestled in a lush and beautiful garden plot. Pushing the bike up the path to their home we were met with a warm welcome from the boy's mother, and then the young man appeared. He was, I think, a bit overwhelmed, but the moment he jumped on his shiny new bike he was right at ease. It will make his daily two-mile trip to school much quicker, and will also help him fit in more comfortably with the other kids - a problem for disabled children here, as elsewhere.

More kids' wishes will be granted thanks to a gift from my Southminster Presbyterian church family. They sent me on the trip with undesignated funds to use where appropriate.

Another of the UXO victims, Lai, has a mountain of challenges. He lost an arm, both legs and his eyesight to an explosion, and he has been a great advocate and supporter of UXO risk awareness training, especially with local children. Lai is a good student in his late teens, but his career options are limited. Improving his English language skills will open opportunities that can help him become independent. He asked for ideas and assistance for his studies; two of us have teamed up to hire a private English tutor for him for the next year.

The remainder of the "annointed money" is helping with school supplies at the last kindergarten we visited and with food at Compassion House, which will allow them to extend care to another few disabled kids. Thank you, Southminster - your gifts are blessing others.

And now - we're in Hue City. It was hard to say good-bye to Dong Ha. The monuments in Hue may be impressive, but more memorable for me are the monumental hearts, warmth and spirit we encountered over the past week. We went with the intent of giving, but I think we received the greater gift.

Dong Ha Howdy!

We spent Friday visiting some of PeaceTrees' other local projects, several of which were in the rural farmlands and all of which are geared toward helping individuals or areas impacted by landmines and UXO.

We got our daily adorable-kid fix at another PeaceTrees kindergarten, this one in the countryside 25 minutes' drive from Dong Ha. As with the other schools we'd brought boxes of presents to share. Balloons and soap bubbles were the biggest hits with the kids; Madame Sam, president of the Quang Tri Women's Union, was partial to the balsa wood airplane. She, by the way, is fabulous. Her organization's goal is to bring social and economic development to women and families in the province. She represents a membership of 90,000 women; they partner with PeaceTrees to identify prospective projects. She's the one who recommended A Xing for the Warner Kindergarten.

After the kid fix we went further into the Dong Ha Boon Docks to meet some beneficiaries of PeaceTrees' microcredit lending program. It felt like we were walking into a Heifer Project catalog. PeaceTrees makes loans of about $170 -- more than many peoples' annual income -- to help the extreme poor to become economially self-sufficient. The recipients pay back the loan with minimal interest; the monies go back into the lending fund. The program has been extremely successful, and it's awe-inspiring to see what such a small amount of seed money can do.

The first family we visited was raising water buffalo. The buffalo are very valuable as "tractors" in the watery rice paddies. The family breeds them and sells the calves; they earn additional income through farming their own crops and through a rent-a-buffalo business.

Pigs are sold for meat. The pig owner is a 76-year-old former surgeon who lost fingers to a UXO explosion while serving as a soldier. He explained that their family's two sows each have two litters of about a dozen piglets per year. The piglets sell for roughly a dollar per kilo, enough for a reasonable income. By contrast one of the local women let us lift the two baskets of sweet potato leaves she was carrying to market two kilometers' walk away - the baskets hanging from a stick over her shoulder weighed 70 pounds and will sell for 45 cents. Not an easy living. She laughed as even the men in our group winced and huffed a little trying to lift and carry the load.

While we saw the loan recipients, neighbors poured out of their houses to see us. They don't get many -- any -- tourists. We had a great time visiting. It's amazing what one can do with charades and a digital camera.

Friday afternoon we visited two more PeaceTrees projects: the blind school (serving 37 kids who have lost their sight in UXO explosions or other events) and Compassion House, which is a center for homeless and profoundly disabled children. Agent Orange poisoning is still a reality here, and continues to cause birth defects.

We wrapped up the day with dinner and karaoke. We practiced a group number in the bus that seemed very fitting number after our countryside adventure: the John Denver hit "Take Me Home, Quang Tri Roads."