Found this on my FB memories. Wrote this 7 years ago at the end of my Danang trip while waiting for my flight back home. Maybe you’ll enjoy reading it.
[To be continued. Or not at all. Boarding flight now. ;)]
It has been a hell of a roller coaster ride, a whirlpool of emotions this trip.
My virgin backpacking trip was in Vietnam - two glorious weeks of traipsing its terrain from Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi. Then I spent a month in Hue/Hoi An/Dalat/Ho Chi Minh. And yet another two weeks in Ho Chi Minh. Given that I immersed myself in her culture on several different occasions, it's no wonder Vietnam has a special place in my heart.
Since I return to Vietnam after a hiatus of seven years, of course I am nervous about whether I will feel comfortable in her bosom. A concern that is exacerbated by how I now know more Thai than Vietnamese and keep wanting to respond in Thai. And for some inexplicable reason, I kept doing the wai instinctively during my first two days.
But I needn't have worried. After the initial awkwardness wore off, I connected with her again, as if I had never left.
The exhilaration of communicating (read: bargaining) successfully after dusting the cobwebs off the few Vietnamese words that I have not used in seven years.
The warmth that envelops my soul when my muscle memory nudges me into recognising some words that I haven't heard in all this while.
The sheer joy of ordering a cup of coffee in Vietnamese from the locals.
The confidence I display when using Vietnamese dong and crossing her roads chock full of scooters.
Of course, Vietnam is a changed person.