Day 230: Duc Son Pagoda Orphanage
It was an emotionally exhausting day.
Today’s itinerary was built around a visit of the Duc Son Pagoda Orphanage.
But first…
This morning I realized that some of our cash had been stolen. I’m frustrated and embarrassed to admit that I don’t know exactly where or when — could have been any time in the last few weeks. I don’t often dig into this stash and I haven’t kept it 100% secure (on me or in a safe) every moment. When I do take some out —for tips or exchanging to local currency — I don’t diligently count what’s left. I just grab a bill from the envelope and pack it back up. Whoever got into it didn’t take it all, but I counted this morning and there is a decent chunk that’s gone.
Fuck. Me. Pissed at the world and pissed at myself.
But the timing of my realization — on this morning of all mornings —was noteworthy.
I was in a fog of frustration, guilt and anger. My body was going through the motions of showering, packing up, getting on our van, nodding-but-not-really-listening to our guide…but I couldn’t stop thinking back through the last few weeks, wondering when this theft might have happened.
And then I was at a little roadside market buying bags of rice for Vietnamese orphans.
Whoa.
The reality of the day hit me and my brain was bouncing between “theft fog” and preparing for what we might experience in the coming hours.
At the market we picked up rice, cooking oil, milk and snacks for the kids. We also met these two little puppies who belong to the owners of the market.
Meanwhile it was fun watching Friday morning scooter commuters stopping to pick up a meal. The market owner would chop the heads off a fish with scissors, thrown it in a clear plastic bag with some herbs, veggies and noodles — all ready to be souped.
After arriving at the orphanage we were greeted by the head Buddhist nun over tea. We then visited a classroom of disabled kids and young adults.
Several were sitting around a table coloring, eager to show off their work to me and Margaret. There was also a blind 25 year old woman sitting on the rug playing with a wooden shapes game designed for infants; a severely disabled 20-something sleeping in a wheel chair; and a 4 year old blind boy feeling his way around the tile floor until someone — caretaker or fellow orphan —leaned down to prop him up against a table.
Chairs were pulled up for Willa and James and they happily started drawing too.
This is when the reality of the place really hit me.
Here is a table of 10 human beings. Two of them are completely healthy, born in New York City to two loving parents, now traveling the world as an inseparable family for an entire year. The other eight humans are born disabled in a developing country to parents who couldn’t or wouldn’t care for them.
I wanted to cry. Life is not fair.
The woman caring for the disabled kids is nothing short of a saint sent from heaven. She was full of energy, nothing but smiles, stopping at each seat to give attention and love to each.
A busload of other kids returned from the local public school and the rest of the morning was spent just hanging out and playing with these kids on our own. We shared our snacks, played soccer, and cuddled with the house dogs.
We also got a chance to chat with a French guy who was volunteering there for 2 months — good dude with a huge heart. A French woman was also volunteering and spent most of her time peeling adoring children off of her.
We made a visit to the babies and toddler area. There we met this adorable little newborn boy. He’s a few weeks old, has Down Syndrome and was left in a laundry basket on the doorstep of the orphanage. Not making this up.
Around lunchtime we thanked the head nun, left a cash donation and said goodbye to our new friends.
As we pulled away in the van Margaret started to cry and I was on the verge. It’s taken hours to digest the emotions and it’s difficult to name them but I’m feeling some mix of:
Sadness — these little babies and kids have no parents
Guilt — we’re impossibly lucky and they got dealt a shitty hand
Fear — what’s going to happen to them?
But importantly I had some strong positive feelings as well:
Relief — these kids are being relatively well cared for. They were bathed, all had neat haircuts, most in school uniforms.
Joy — These kids genuinely care for each other; we didn’t see any fighting and didn’t hear an unkind word — but we witnessed things like 7 year old orphans helping blind 4 year olds through their day.
Admiration — The nun caretakers are saving lives, the Western volunteers should be hugged and applauded.
We probably should have just come back to the hotel after that experience. But we had a lunch planned in the private home of a “famous” Vietnamese chef, Mrs Nhu Huy.
She gave us a warm welcome — so excited to see the kids.
Meal highlights included the cold beer (esp after the orphanage) and the salt rice — a symbolic dish in the former Imperial capital of Hue. Lowlights were the fearless rat snooping around the house and the hostess stating that I look like “Mark Zuckerberg… pronounced Juke-erberg.” Margaret considers that last one a highlight but I’m writing the damn blog today and I’m calling it a lowlight.
Back at the hotel we needed to zone out for a bit. I took the kids for a swim, then Margaret and I went through the motions of a home school session. Our minds were elsewhere.
We walked down the street for a quick dinner at La Boulangerie Francaise, ordering standard French cafe fare — quiche, ham and butter on a baguette, Croque Monsieur with a shared passion fruit and coconut tarts for dessert. Food was just ok but we weren’t expecting Aux Petits Cakes on Rue Saint-Louis.
Thoughts of the stolen cash would enter and exit my mind throughout the day. It’s obviously not the end of the world and the orphanage visit provided some timely perspective.
My old friend John McCarthy told me that his parents never lock the doors of their Washington DC home because his dad believed that “if someone is going to steal something from me, they probably need it more than I do.” I feel the same way about this cash — hopefully it’s feeding a Chinese or Vietnamese family tonight.
