Phong, my Vietnamese Artist

On my second day in Vietnam, I spent the morning at a handicapped school. The children varied in both age and disability. We separated and I colored with Phong, Tien, and Qui- older deaf children. Everyone started trickling into the courtyard, where you could slide into a giant ball pit. Little kids ran around with pens and pads of paper, trying to get your name and age. Lists of names they’ll have to keep, which I have no idea what they intend to do with. Afterwards we looked at their art, which we could buy with a donation to the school. That afternoon I went to a deaf school, where we were greeted by little kids clapping excitedly. The older girls, eleven to fourteen or so, came out in floor length yellow dresses and flower stems, and performed a spring dance for us. Then, the boys did a dance to rap. Amongst all these tween boys was an adorable little boy, around eight- all break dancing for us. After the older kids performed, we sat on the ground in small groups. The younger kids were drawn by the bubbles, liquid dripping all over them as they tried relentlessly to get every bubble perfect. The older kids immediately began asking about you, your family and what you want to do when you’re older via construction paper and colored pencils. I spent my time with a couple girls, coloring and talking, and some smaller children helping them blow bubbles. The group was contagious, excited to learn and interact with us. We left without not nearly enough time as I would have liked to go to an orphanage. The orphanage houses over 400 kids, most left at the gate in bundles by their parents. Rooms hold row after row of cribs, each with a small child laying in it, staring at the ceiling. More children lay on mattresses placed on the ground, while the volunteers fold sheets nearby. My favorite was this tag team duo. An older boy wearing a green shirt, obvious severe physical and mental disabilities, pushed another boy in a wheelchair around the courtyard. They caught my eye because despite everything, they were carefree, looking out for each other and doing their own thing. It was interesting because parents joined our trip, and looked at everything with wide eyes and acutely aware of the surroundings. This is what we’ve been immersed in for months. The extreme differences are no longer a shock to us, rather yet another thing to adapt to. Anyways, that night my friends and I went to the night market. Restaurants line the market, so the air is potent with garlic and meat. Women scream after you. Tourists, mostly British and Austrailian mosey along the streets, taking their dear sweet time. Shops with everything, except shoes anywhere larger than a size 7. On the following day, I went back to the market and walked around with Patty, ready to conquer Ben Thanh. I bought three pieces of artwork- two of Marilyn Monroe of course. Eventually Patty and I separated, and I wandered around by myself. Around dinner, I ran into Ryan, Lindsey, and Anna, and went to dinner at an inexpensive stand near the market. After dinner I helped Ryan pick some things out from his sister and eventually went off on my own again. It was the first port that I finally felt ready to spend hours at a time, just doing my own thing without being overwhelmed by everything. It was a nice change, just to be in complete control, and conquer each street, each bargain one at a time by myself