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Published: November 29th 2012
where are we todo?
such a different feel with mountain air, pine trees and remains of french colonization.On the eve of my departure, I got the worse call of my life. Pat Cullen, a great friend and even better person had just passed away in a motor bike accident in the streets of Hanoi. At the tender age of 19, Pat was due home in a week's time. This was not only a huge blow to our group of friends, but a larger than life reminder of our own mortality and the world we live in.
I was devastated.
Being able to pay your respects in some way is crucial after a loved one passes away... and I couldn't. There was no road side marker to take flowers to and no home or family to console. I was just left with a gaping hole in my heart and friends by my side. It was all cemented by a the worst text I've ever received, "Is Pat really dead?" I've come to the conclusion that in a typical, bodily function kind of way yes, Pat is really dead. But there was so much more to this person then and name and a body. His positive attitude and open outlook on life was infectious. He lived his life
cramped quarters
Sierra and Naomi in their birth. and YES that's 3 levels of beds on each side of the birth, fitting a total of 6! insanity. they way he wanted and he loved it. He has had an everlasting effect on me and a magnitude of others. In this way, the legacy of Pat is still here. His soul has been divided up among us and we each carry apart of him.
Heading to Sapa was just about the last thing I really wanted to do, but what could I do in Hanoi anyways. Nothing but mope and as cheesy as it sounds, that's not what Pat would've wanted. So off we were on an overnight train to Sapa. Because we had booked late, I was in a separate bunk than Sierra and Naomi. It was my first time on a train of this sort and i seriously felt like I was in a James Bong movie. Shortly after departure, my cabin full of Viets, turned up their "music" and turned out the lights. Well that was a subtle hint I'm supposed to stay put in my miniscule, top bunk area.
9 hours later we were on a bus from the train station to the city of Sapa. It turned out to be the fresh air I needed. My plans included visiting various mountain
hungry?
It's not like buying chicken breasts at your local supermarket... villages, trekking up Mt. Fanispan and volunteering at Sapa O'Chau. This was a perfect mix of distraction from the grey cloud over my head, and quiet time in nature to think and reconsider life and all that has happened. The highlight of the first day was meeting up with a friend of Sierra's and his family for a 10kg roasted pig feast fit for at least double the amount of people. All of it was fresh from that day. Never had I had pork in so many ways. Dessert was the most adventurous thing, congealed pigs blood with crushed peanuts, herbs and meat chunks. Bon Appetite! ..Barely got one bite of that down, but worth a try.
Day 2 and 3 was spent trekking up 3,143 meters to the summit of Mt. Fansipan. Of course, being Americans we had no idea wtf 3,143 meters was in feet, which is something we began to ponder after our 1st pit stop for lunch. What had we gotten our selves into. (Not until we were back down the hill did we find the conversion. It's 10,312ft!) With the most spectacular views and amount of effort it took, it was one of the
Cat Cat village
our first glances of true Vietnam rice paddies and villages. most breath taking experiences. We were blessed with clear weather and a view from the heavens. Between camp 1 and camp 2 is seriously the most rewarding and hardest part of the journey. By the time we got to camp 2, we realized we're really out of shape! My mind kept coming back to Pat. Our last good bye at Roots bar, our last text message...my sorrow for the fear and pain he must have felt.
Early morning start to make it to the summit by 9am, and by the time we made it, the sadness was giving way to acceptance and a new found appreciation for everything. After about 45 minutes at the top, it was time to make it down the mountain... ALL THE WAY DOWN. What an undertaking that was! 6 hours later, I dragged my feet into a van to take me back to my hotel. I couldn't walk for 3 days. Not only had I conquered this mountain, I did so with a heavy heart and gimpy ankle. Also, now throbbing were my knees. 22 km of almost straight ascension and dissension will do it to the best of knees... lol
Can't waist
picture perfect
Never been in a more picturesque setting a minute of time though... the next day we rented a motor bike and explored a few villages, then Sierra was off back to Hanoi. At last, solidarity.
Day 5: I was due to volunteer at Sapa O'Chau by 9am. After meeting this amazing class of kids, I really had more to reflect on. Not only were many of them struggling with poverty, but some lived at the school because they're village was too far from town. Additionally everyone in the class was very informed on human trafficking, as in they all knew at least one friend or family member that had been taken. The strength of these kids (well ranging in age from 10-20) was inspiring and I left the first day feeling like I learned from them more than I taught.
Day 6: With a resolution to have a positive impact on this class, I came prepared. It was so nice to have this opportunity. Many of the students were girls, with aspirations to travel or work in the tourism industry. To be independent women in their cultures is not accepted but with education they armed themselves and their communities with knowledge. I taught them how
waterfall
revel in the beauty to budget (hahaha that's a funny one right?!). Finally it was time to say good bye, and even though I was there a mere 2 days, the students made me gifts of hand made bracelets. It was also time to say good bye to the peaceful mountain city, good bye to the pine trees amidst bamboo, good bye to the clean, crisp air and hello to reality. Back to dirty, polluted Hanoi were memories of Pat greeted me around every turn.
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