Ky Quang, Mekong, & Saying Goodbye
Summary: On Monday, 4.1, I worked my last day at Gia Dinh school, and had an Easter party with the kids and teachers. That afternoon, I started my placement at Ky Quang Orphanage. Lifechanging. Worked here all week, then went to the Mekong Delta for a mini getaway over the weekend and held a 7 foot python. Got back from the Mekong, and started filming and interviewing kids and the caretakers at Ky Quang and shooting lots of supplemental B-Roll. Last week at the volunteer house, too. Then, went to Da Lat for a really beautiful weekend, and had my last week at Ky Quang, and in Vietnam altogether.
4.1.13
The beginning of the third week of volunteering in Vietnam started with my last day at Gia Dinh School - bittersweet, but beautiful. It was a special, Easter school day full of egg painting, treats for the kids, arts and crafts, games, and maybe the most smiles and laughs I’ve had compressed into only a few hours. It was tough saying goodbye to the kids, but it’s reassuring to know that they are in the hands of such thoughtful, caring, and compassionate teachers and guides. After class, we shared a delicious meal with all of the teachers and workers, and word got out that I’m a rapper by profession. I didn’t expect this news to be greeted with so much excitement! I was inundated by requests from the principal and teachers to write a hip hop song for the kids to learn and sing, and so it looks like I’ve got a little bit of homework to do over the next couple weeks. How awesome would it be to see and hear 50 kids at Gia Dinh having fun rapping and dancing to a song I’ll write in Vietnamese, using it as a tool for learning? Answer: very. In the afternoon, I started at Ky Quang Orphanage. Here are some pictures of the last day at Gia Dinh.
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Placement #3: Ky Quang Orphanage
Before I came to Ky Quang Pagoda, I must admit I had an idea in my head of what the orphanage would look like, and this created an expectation for the experience, which is something I’ve found is generally best to avoid, since expectations can only have one of two outcomes: they’re either a) met, and I feel no different because I expected it to happen, or b) they’re not met and a form of being let down or depressed follows suit. So, when I heard that the orphanage at Ky Quang was run in large part by Buddhist monks, the idea I had in my head was a very basic, simple, minimalist pagoda adorned with a few statues of the Buddha and a wide-open space to meditate. I figured the monks would be with the children most of the day, using the opportunity to care for the children as a chance to practice mindfulness and awareness of the present moment through the eyes, tears, laughs, and conversations with the kids. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.
The pagoda is filled with so many carvings, statues, and adornments that it bears a closer resemblance, to me at least, to the Crystal Cathedral - or a Midwest mega church in its gaudiness - than to a Buddhist temple. The pictures below will say more than my writing can summarize, but the pagoda clearly has copious amounts of money poured into it to maintain and decorate it, while the orphanage occupies a space teetering between third world and absolute destitution. Because of this, it’s hard not to feel the latter outcome to expectations. Be that as it may, in the chances I’ve had to speak with the monks, it’s clear they care very deeply about all of the children here. It’s easy to understand why: one second spent with these kids would erase any and all feelings of disillusionment in even the most ardent of skeptics.
The pagoda is filled with so many carvings, statues, and adornments that it bears a closer resemblance, to me at least, to the Crystal Cathedral - or a Midwest mega church in its gaudiness - than to a Buddhist temple. The pictures below will say more than my writing can summarize, but the pagoda clearly has copious amounts of money poured into it to maintain and decorate it, while the orphanage occupies a space teetering between third world and absolute destitution. Because of this, it’s hard not to feel the latter outcome to expectations. Be that as it may, in the chances I’ve had to speak with the monks, it’s clear they care very deeply about all of the children here. It’s easy to understand why: one second spent with these kids would erase any and all feelings of disillusionment in even the most ardent of skeptics.
Pagoda | Orphanage Daycare |
Ky Quang is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and here’s why: in addition to being orphans, most of the kids here have severe physical and/or mental handicaps, some due to the generational effects of dioxin in Agent Orange. Some have cerebral palsy like the children at LTK, but it goes beyond that. One boy has limbs that are practically bent backwards, and he scoots around on the floor placing all his bodyweight on his wrists and ankles. Another boy was dropped off here as a newborn and has never left the walls of the orphanage – he’s 28 years old. Several of the toddlers have hydrocephalus (fluid on the brain), and since the cost of correcting it by placing a shunt to drain the fluid to the stomach is out of the reach of most developing nations, they essentially lie on their back and stare at the ceiling with a migraine headache their whole life while they wait to die. An 18 year old girl was lured outside the pagoda when she was 16, raped, and returned to the pagoda. Despite all of this, they have smiles that can’t be contained. I’ll take pictures later and insert em here, but right now I want to focus on building a relationship with the children so that taking pictures and video is something they look forward to, rather than feeling like some sort of exhibit.
Professional athletes and coaches like to talk a lot about “overcoming adversity” in their quest to win the championship. Maybe their right guard had turf toe and played through it or their forward had a temperature of 98.7 and persevered in an almost Herculean effort of might and muscle in the face of insurmountable odds. But I think they’d agree the face of true strength, courage, and the very definition of adversity overcome is the kids here and at LTK. I used to think I was tough and strong because I could bench press my bodyweight 20 times…sort of an irrelevant definition of brawn now (plus I can’t do that anymore…or anything near it…).
I can tell the experience here is going to impact me indelibly.
*Side Note* This is the first April Fools in 5 years in which I haven’t pulled a prank of a friend. Usually, I post a fake craigslist ad, giving away something free (like a collection of theatre wigs, troll dolls, marionette puppets, or laser discs) with their phone number. So be ready next year, all of you. You’ve been warned.
Professional athletes and coaches like to talk a lot about “overcoming adversity” in their quest to win the championship. Maybe their right guard had turf toe and played through it or their forward had a temperature of 98.7 and persevered in an almost Herculean effort of might and muscle in the face of insurmountable odds. But I think they’d agree the face of true strength, courage, and the very definition of adversity overcome is the kids here and at LTK. I used to think I was tough and strong because I could bench press my bodyweight 20 times…sort of an irrelevant definition of brawn now (plus I can’t do that anymore…or anything near it…).
I can tell the experience here is going to impact me indelibly.
*Side Note* This is the first April Fools in 5 years in which I haven’t pulled a prank of a friend. Usually, I post a fake craigslist ad, giving away something free (like a collection of theatre wigs, troll dolls, marionette puppets, or laser discs) with their phone number. So be ready next year, all of you. You’ve been warned.
4.2.13
The schedule at Ky Quang in the daycare is roughly as follows: arrive at 9:30. Play games with the children and help in some mild physiotherapy, like helping them walk with the use of braces or stretching out their arms and legs, for the next hour. At 10:30, help feed them lunch, clean up any mess made while trying said endeavor, and put them down for nap. From 11-2 they and the nurses sleep, while we are free to do whatever: have lunch, read, sweat in the sun, or sleep ourselves. Then, from 2-4, play with the children some more, take them for walks in wheelchairs around the pagoda, dinner time from 4-5, help change, clean, and deliver them to the room where they sleep, then head home. Today, though, I was more or less used as the hired muscle to haul around water and move the children around. They must have been desperate, because at a buck fifty and some change, I’m not really tipping the scale with Schwarzeneggerean strength. Even though I probably lost about five pounds in sweat, it was refreshing to get some semblance of a workout.
For the rest of the day, I spent most of my time trying, and failing, to feed a boy named Kuong. He’s six years old and awesome (like all of the kids here). He has cerebral palsy, so his body fails him, but he’s really smart. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to see other able-bodied people wandering around while being confined to a chair, the ground, a wheelchair, or braces 24/7. Though I can see on his face, and sometimes through his tears, that he understands the reality of the situation and the ensuing frustration that accompanies it, the fact is he is more often than not smiling. I’ll take some pictures of him next week to show to you, and post them below.
For the rest of the day, I spent most of my time trying, and failing, to feed a boy named Kuong. He’s six years old and awesome (like all of the kids here). He has cerebral palsy, so his body fails him, but he’s really smart. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to see other able-bodied people wandering around while being confined to a chair, the ground, a wheelchair, or braces 24/7. Though I can see on his face, and sometimes through his tears, that he understands the reality of the situation and the ensuing frustration that accompanies it, the fact is he is more often than not smiling. I’ll take some pictures of him next week to show to you, and post them below.
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4.3.13
It’s incredible how quickly the children accept strangers into their world, their family, their community. Given the fact that I am one of hundreds, perhaps thousands of volunteers many will see during their lives, the reality is that they may very well forget me after I leave – be it a day, a month, or a year from now. Many, many more people will take my place and forge a bond with the children in a similar way, and that’s a great thing…as it should be. Part of me can’t help but wish I could make as much of a positive and memorable influence on each of their lives as they do on mine. But I won’t. And that’s OK. I’m here, now, in the present moment, to do what I can to help their today to be filled with just a few more smiles and a couple more laughs, and I’m eternally grateful for this opportunity.
A day will come when I’m nothing more than a memory for these kids. I’ll inhabit the same place as old friends I swore I’d never forget, but whose names moved from daily conversation, to the tip of my tongue, to the recesses of my mind, in some deeply buried off place as I become older and a bit more forgetful. It’s human, and I think that’s as it should be. Now is all that exists, and the future will come when it will. Today is where I will focus my work, one hour, one minute, one smile at a time.
There was a volunteer today who was overcome with emotion, of a feeling of guilt at not being able to do enough for the children, or help their lives in a way that would be as long-lasting as she hoped. I completely understand that, and can relate to the same feeling. Yet, while I’m certainly no expert on this and I can only speak from my own experience, I feel it’s important to recognize the possibilities vs. limitations, and expectations vs. realities, of being a volunteer at a place like an orphanage.
I remember my first week at Ebenezer Orphanage in Kenya, I wanted to “save” as many of the kids as I could. Not in a sense of move them to some different surrounding – they were/are incredibly happy being at Ebenezer – I just wanted to do more than I was. I wanted to somehow provide them with food and medicine and shelter and happiness forever. Then, the reality set in that that wasn’t realistic. The amount of time and resources I had, and any volunteer has, is limited. Always. Whether it’s one day, one month, one year, or one lifetime, eventually it will run its course. It’s important to recognize that, because there is freedom in the finite. There is no one to save, and no one who needs to be rescued. All that exists is the here and now. Lend a hand, help feed, teach, dress, smile, secure donations for food or clothes or medicine or surgeries, draw animals and finger-paint. As much as it’s possible, help make each day a little better. Then, be at peace with the truth that adding a little bit more good and doing what could be done to add to the positive is something to be celebrated. Every little bit of good matters. Or so me thinks.
A day will come when I’m nothing more than a memory for these kids. I’ll inhabit the same place as old friends I swore I’d never forget, but whose names moved from daily conversation, to the tip of my tongue, to the recesses of my mind, in some deeply buried off place as I become older and a bit more forgetful. It’s human, and I think that’s as it should be. Now is all that exists, and the future will come when it will. Today is where I will focus my work, one hour, one minute, one smile at a time.
There was a volunteer today who was overcome with emotion, of a feeling of guilt at not being able to do enough for the children, or help their lives in a way that would be as long-lasting as she hoped. I completely understand that, and can relate to the same feeling. Yet, while I’m certainly no expert on this and I can only speak from my own experience, I feel it’s important to recognize the possibilities vs. limitations, and expectations vs. realities, of being a volunteer at a place like an orphanage.
I remember my first week at Ebenezer Orphanage in Kenya, I wanted to “save” as many of the kids as I could. Not in a sense of move them to some different surrounding – they were/are incredibly happy being at Ebenezer – I just wanted to do more than I was. I wanted to somehow provide them with food and medicine and shelter and happiness forever. Then, the reality set in that that wasn’t realistic. The amount of time and resources I had, and any volunteer has, is limited. Always. Whether it’s one day, one month, one year, or one lifetime, eventually it will run its course. It’s important to recognize that, because there is freedom in the finite. There is no one to save, and no one who needs to be rescued. All that exists is the here and now. Lend a hand, help feed, teach, dress, smile, secure donations for food or clothes or medicine or surgeries, draw animals and finger-paint. As much as it’s possible, help make each day a little better. Then, be at peace with the truth that adding a little bit more good and doing what could be done to add to the positive is something to be celebrated. Every little bit of good matters. Or so me thinks.
4.4.13
When I arrived in the morning today, I was greeted by about 5 children who ran, wheeled, or crawled to the gate to welcome me with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, or a hi-five. That alone makes any of the minor setbacks of the day – food poisoning, standing for an hour and a half bus ride and having nowhere to move and being too tall for the bus so the head hits the ceiling, returning home and needing the jaws of life to get out of your now 10lb loaded with sweat t-shirt – absolutely worth it.
Any problem I may have in my life seems to dissolve into the ether for the time that I’m with the kids.
Amore vita.
Any problem I may have in my life seems to dissolve into the ether for the time that I’m with the kids.
Amore vita.
Tonight was the last night for several of the volunteers with whom I became great friends. It’s tough. You’re basically together 24/7, living in the same house, sharing similar experiences, and helping to keep one another’s spirits raised. There’s a strong bond that forms quickly, and even though there’s always the knowledge that the time together is brief, when that time comes to an end, it’s tough to say goodbye. To celebrate our time together, a large group of us went to a restaurant called “Alex’s Café”, which I was keen to go to, since any restaurant that shares my namesake and all must be great. Pretty interesting experience to have English pub food in the Than Quy ward of District 7, but hey, it was delicious. Plus, it had one of the most adorable puppies I’ve ever seen romping around with a 3 year-old after whom the restaurant is named.
Safe travels to my friends, and I hope to see you again someday soon.
Safe travels to my friends, and I hope to see you again someday soon.
4.5.13
Already one week at Ky Quang - hard to believe. Today was one of the more difficult days, physically. I wasn’t minding my P’s a Q’s with water consumption, so I was real, real dehydrated, in addition to sweating buckets. (I drank three liters of water without even feeling the inkling of an urge to go use the loo for about 4 hours after I got back home). On top of that, there were just some minor inconveniences: got thrown up on, headbutted in the ear 3 times, an uppercut by a head to the jaw, and just couldn’t seem to do anything right. Then, on the way home, I was crammed, like usual, onto the #34 bus with about 40 other people. The difference with this bus versus the others was that the ceiling happened to be around five and a half feet tall. I’m just under six feet.
But there are of course always going to be days like this, and of course it didn’t amount to more than a big sigh, the enjoyment of a cold shower, and, always, inexpressible gratitude at the chance to be able to spend the day with the kids at Ky Quang.
But there are of course always going to be days like this, and of course it didn’t amount to more than a big sigh, the enjoyment of a cold shower, and, always, inexpressible gratitude at the chance to be able to spend the day with the kids at Ky Quang.
4.6-4.7.13
This weekend, I decided to take a mini voyage out of the smog and motorcycles. Destination: Mekong Delta. $30 for a roundtrip bus ticket, bungalow on the water, two meals, and boat rides is a pretty good get. Highlights were: falling asleep to the sound of crickets on the river, sunset, making our own spring rolls at the homestay, holding a 7 foot python and not dying, etc. Good stuff.
Here are some shots from the Mekong.
Here are some shots from the Mekong.
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4.8 - 4.10.13
The details of work at the orphanage on some days can start to sound similar, even though each day is unique and has experiences that won’t be replicated. So, I thought this would be a good time to discuss something that I have been grappling with for a few days, and trying to wrap my head around. All of the kids at Ky Quang – and any orphanage in the world for that matter – have been abandoned by their parents. Whether they were abandoned knowingly and on purpose, like the majority at Ky Quang who are left in the dark of the night as newborns in baskets or garbage cans, or as the result of their parents dying with no relatives to care for them, the fact is they have been abandoned. With that in mind, is it beneficial or detrimental for the kids, in the long run, for volunteers to show up only for a limited amount of time and form a close bond, only to turn around and leave and abandon them again? Does this perpetually revolving door of volunteers do more harm than good, and further amplify and serve as a reminder of abandonment?
I think the older children know that volunteers are each only there for a limited amount of time, but I don’t know what kind of effect it has on the younger ones. As I progress in my travels, I plan to ask this question to the older kids. I just have to think of the best way to phrase it.
I think the older children know that volunteers are each only there for a limited amount of time, but I don’t know what kind of effect it has on the younger ones. As I progress in my travels, I plan to ask this question to the older kids. I just have to think of the best way to phrase it.
4.11.13
It’s interesting to see how the kids respond to people who only stop by the orphanage for a short amount of time, and to see how these people respond to the kids. There was a couple who walked up to the gate of the daycare, donated 3 packs of gum, looked uncomfortably at the kids, took a lot of pictures without spending any time with them, and walked off. In effect, they treated the kids as nothing more than exhibits in a human zoo, their handicaps and deformities serving as a carnival of oddities. This happens a lot.
I’ve also experienced volunteers - from the US, Europe, Australia - who have almost no interaction with the children outside of posing for pictures with them, feigning affection for a fleeting photo. Part of me can’t help but feel the volunteers who do this are volunteering simply to feel a boost to their karma and to show their friends back home that, “Hey, I volunteered and spent a good amount of time with these poor brown kids.” That’s just a knee-jerk reaction, though, and I can’t pretend to know a person’s truest intentions and volition for why they’re here. Maybe I’m being too cynical. If in their heart of hearts they’re there to truly lend a hand and be present, great. But if not…
I’ve also experienced volunteers - from the US, Europe, Australia - who have almost no interaction with the children outside of posing for pictures with them, feigning affection for a fleeting photo. Part of me can’t help but feel the volunteers who do this are volunteering simply to feel a boost to their karma and to show their friends back home that, “Hey, I volunteered and spent a good amount of time with these poor brown kids.” That’s just a knee-jerk reaction, though, and I can’t pretend to know a person’s truest intentions and volition for why they’re here. Maybe I’m being too cynical. If in their heart of hearts they’re there to truly lend a hand and be present, great. But if not…
4.12.13
Lights up, cameras rolling. Today was the first day of interviews for the Volunteer Adventure. I interviewed the nurse in the newborn room, and two girls who my friend Nhi helps teach English to in the afternoons. I learned a lot. The nurse, who has worked at Ky Quang for over 5 years, has cared for dozens of newborns and infants. There was recently an instance where a visitor stopped by the newborn room and stole a child. Because of this, they rarely let any outsider into the newborn room. Sometimes, the babies who are dropped off don’t make it to childhood. Her son became a monk at another pagoda and, when he made that choice, it meant severing ties with every relationship in his life – including with his mom. So, she doesn’t get to speak to her son at all anymore. I asked her how she felt about this, and she said she was proud of him, and his devoting his life to something greater is the most she could ask for.
One of the girls I interviewed was too shy to appear on camera, so I conducted an audio interview. She wants to be a magician when she grows up! The other, who is a wiz at math, was dropped off by her parents at the orphanage when she was six years old. Six. I have no words.
One of the girls I interviewed was too shy to appear on camera, so I conducted an audio interview. She wants to be a magician when she grows up! The other, who is a wiz at math, was dropped off by her parents at the orphanage when she was six years old. Six. I have no words.
4.13 - 4.14.13
Waking up at sunrise and not instantly sweating is an experience I haven’t had in five weeks, but that’s a treat that I got when stepping off the overnight bus in Da Lat, a relatively small city about 7 hours north of Ho Chi Minh. Here’s what sunrise looked like.
If for nothing else than a brief excursion off of the surface of the sun, this was a great trip. It was also really scenic, the food was great, and I stayed in a hotel with air conditioning. I also found a store that sold only Johnny Walker’s and Spam. I ate at a restaurant where the owner painted me a picture with his fingers. I meditated under clear blue skies on the bank of a lake. I walked about 12 miles without breaking a sweat and was able to go for a run. My lungs hated me for the 6 weeks of almost no exercise while simultaneously sucking in the exhaust of about 34,568,391 motorcycles and packs of cigarettes (secondhand, though I feel like it'd make economic sense for me to pick it up at 75 cents/pack here).
If for nothing else than a brief excursion off of the surface of the sun, this was a great trip. It was also really scenic, the food was great, and I stayed in a hotel with air conditioning. I also found a store that sold only Johnny Walker’s and Spam. I ate at a restaurant where the owner painted me a picture with his fingers. I meditated under clear blue skies on the bank of a lake. I walked about 12 miles without breaking a sweat and was able to go for a run. My lungs hated me for the 6 weeks of almost no exercise while simultaneously sucking in the exhaust of about 34,568,391 motorcycles and packs of cigarettes (secondhand, though I feel like it'd make economic sense for me to pick it up at 75 cents/pack here).
4.15.13
This is my last week in Vietnam. In some ways, it feels like I’ve been here for two days, in others two years, but isn’t that always how it goes. I’m staying in District 1 right now, which is the really Westernized part of town. I officially finished volunteering through IVHQ on the 11th, and it was substantially cheaper for me to stay downtown than at the guest house, so I went ahead and booked Long Hostel, which I recommend to anyone who visits Ho Chi Minh – AC, comfortable bed, a refrigerator, and $7/night is hard to argue against. The experience staying here vs. District 7 is vastly different. I got propositioned for a prostitute – by both men and women – five times within my first hour of arriving, offered weed three times.
Navigating through the maze of prostitutes and drug pushers, I happened to strike up a conversation with a motorbike taxi driver. His name is Tho. He’s 65 and reminded me of my grandpa. He told me his story: he was an interpreter and code breaker for the US in the Vietnam War. Three of his sons, who were children at the time, died in the war. His wife died a few years back. He has two sons who survived the war, who he is incredibly proud of, and he has been a moto driver for the last 10 years. One of his favorite things is being a sort of diplomat for visitors to Vietnam, greeting them with a gentle politeness and practicing countless new languages.
I’m not a good enough writer to explain what the experience of looking into the eyes of a man who has no more tears left to cry because life has used him as a punching bag is like. Wounds heal, scars don’t, and there are hurts that time will never erase.
Navigating through the maze of prostitutes and drug pushers, I happened to strike up a conversation with a motorbike taxi driver. His name is Tho. He’s 65 and reminded me of my grandpa. He told me his story: he was an interpreter and code breaker for the US in the Vietnam War. Three of his sons, who were children at the time, died in the war. His wife died a few years back. He has two sons who survived the war, who he is incredibly proud of, and he has been a moto driver for the last 10 years. One of his favorite things is being a sort of diplomat for visitors to Vietnam, greeting them with a gentle politeness and practicing countless new languages.
I’m not a good enough writer to explain what the experience of looking into the eyes of a man who has no more tears left to cry because life has used him as a punching bag is like. Wounds heal, scars don’t, and there are hurts that time will never erase.
4.16.13
The head monk at Ky Quang is a man named Thich Thien Chieu. Until today, he was a person of myth and lore, for I heard about him and his work on almost a daily basis but never saw him. Somehow, I talked my way up the chain of command and secured an interview with him. He’s one charismatic dude. He has been the head monk at Ky Quang for longer than I’ve been alive, and has been directly responsible for helping to raise hundreds upon hundreds of children who have passed through the walls of Ky Quang. Here are some key takeaways from the interview:
There are a little over 250 kids at Ky Quang. About 20% are blind, 30% are physically and/or mentally disabled, and 50% have no handicaps. It costs about $8,000 a month to care for all of the children. When the children are old enough, they go on to become monks, attend university, or get jobs. Some of the kids aren’t physically able to leave the orphanage. Kids who pass on are cremated and buried in a plot in a public cemetery. His favorite memory out of his entire time as the head monk was helping restore sight to a blind child, but he says there is no happiness that matches what he receives any time he is able to spend time with the children.
I went to the newborn and toddler room with him after the interview, and took pictures of him playing with the children. It’s clear that he fills the role of father to almost all of the children, and they respect and adore him. I also had the chance to interview two of the nurses that I work with in the daycare, and was able to gain added insight into their daily lives and of the kids I’ve been working with over the last couple weeks. Beautiful people.
There are a little over 250 kids at Ky Quang. About 20% are blind, 30% are physically and/or mentally disabled, and 50% have no handicaps. It costs about $8,000 a month to care for all of the children. When the children are old enough, they go on to become monks, attend university, or get jobs. Some of the kids aren’t physically able to leave the orphanage. Kids who pass on are cremated and buried in a plot in a public cemetery. His favorite memory out of his entire time as the head monk was helping restore sight to a blind child, but he says there is no happiness that matches what he receives any time he is able to spend time with the children.
I went to the newborn and toddler room with him after the interview, and took pictures of him playing with the children. It’s clear that he fills the role of father to almost all of the children, and they respect and adore him. I also had the chance to interview two of the nurses that I work with in the daycare, and was able to gain added insight into their daily lives and of the kids I’ve been working with over the last couple weeks. Beautiful people.
4.17.13
Fred and Sarah, two really nice Canadians (is there any other kind of Canadian) that were staying at the same hostel asked if they could come to Ky Quang with me to volunteer for just a few hours. I could tell they actually wanted to work with the kids, and it wasn’t just about a photo op. They brought balloons and the kids lit up. Always really great to see and hear all of the children laughing.
After work, I – along with four other volunteers - was invited to dinner by one of my fellow volunteers, Nhi. Her aunt and uncle live just around the corner from Ky Quang. Incredible food, wonderful company. I also happened upon Cobra Kai practicing in the park for their rematch against Daniel San.
After work, I – along with four other volunteers - was invited to dinner by one of my fellow volunteers, Nhi. Her aunt and uncle live just around the corner from Ky Quang. Incredible food, wonderful company. I also happened upon Cobra Kai practicing in the park for their rematch against Daniel San.
4.18.13
It’s my last day at Ky Quang, and in Vietnam. There’s an inexorable truth that I’ve found in every minute with these children, and it’s because of this and the incredible gratitude that I feel at the opportunity for their allowing me to be a part of their lives that I’m not a blubbering, weeping old fool right now.
Here’s some pictures that’ll serve as a reminder to me when times get hard, and they will, that there is still beauty, truth, and boundless good in the world.
Here’s some pictures that’ll serve as a reminder to me when times get hard, and they will, that there is still beauty, truth, and boundless good in the world.
4.19.13
Today, I hopped onto a bus, navigated the border crossing out of Vietnam (the process of getting the visa felt like people betting on a cockfight), and moved onto my next destination: Cambodia.
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