I remember..
In Saigon, upon the vendor at the large market realized I was Vietnamese American and projected it out loud, vendors in proximity started to pull on my arm asking me to take them with me home. I had to rush out of the market with all eyes on me. The center of attention.
Hearing my parents' voice in the Southern people.
When I started to be able to think in Vietnamese.
The reality of Phu Quoc's future when cruising down semi-paved dirt roads, witnessing the countless construction projects of hotels, resorts, and business districts.
The countless mosquito bites sleeping in the countryside. We had mosquito nets too!
Along with that, my crazy American-media-influenced imagination during the night time. Mass serial killers. Wartime ghosts in the night shadows under shimmering stars. The creepiness of mosquito nets in the dark.
The familiarity in the sweetness of the bowls of pho and desserts. And my mother's home cooked meals.
At the same time, enduring the over-sweetness of it all. "Holy,how much sugar did they put in this?" LOL
The moment when my family and the Diaspora made much more sense in my mind: both my mother's side and my father's side, including the disparities between the two.
The moment I started to see Vietnam more in my future, and my ambition to help mend relations between overseas Vietnamese and Vietnamese nationals.
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