I made it to Paris, safely...

The time right now is 2.38am in Paris, France.
I got here yesterday.



It was a journey.

From Brooklyn to Newark.
I trekked -
Duffle bag,
suit case,
laptop bag.

C train to Chambers Street.
Transfer -
Ground Zero makes me think...
takes me back...
I think about the place I was when I heard the news...
AP European History at Point Loma High School, 1st period.
I am headed to Europe and seeing history, making history, being history.
Europe bound - how ironic? Very.

I realize it's been Jersey since I was on the the Path train.
On my sidekick 2 I sent "au revoir" text messages, emails, AIM messages,
Stale memories of a love concluded.
I purchase my train ticket.
I wait for the Newark bound Path Train at the World Train Center stop.
Serenity.
A black woman with blonded and black hair and a gold tooth in the front of her mouth -
"Suga, where you going?"
"Paris."
"Really? For what?"
"Yes, studying black Americans in Paris."
"We in Paris?"
"You damn right."
"Well, I don't know you - and I am proud of you."
"Thank you"
"Now, don't you go over there and get in trouble or have no babies."
"*laugh*Those two definitely won't happen."
--If she only knew--
She smiles and walks away.
I rest my head against the metal pole and think.
It's getting real.
Train comes.
I board.

Duffle bag has rubbed my open arm from my tank top raw.
I need some A&D or something.
The excitiment made me not think.
Newark.
I text Janet.
I catch a cab.
I go inside.
She welcomes me with open arms.
I have no gifts to bear.
We chat.
We share.
He.
He.
Less than a day away of a lifetime change - 5 weeks studying in Paris.
A summer in Europe.
Visiting my Brazilian family in Italy.
Norway where the sun doesn't go down.
Red sungas in Nice.
Gay Pride in Gay Paree!
History unloaded and unlocked - overwhelming.
Black Paris.
Paris Noir.
The agency of black.
The fluidity of black.
A nap away.
Janet rests.
I sit.
I think.
I miss.
Ideas of home unclear.
A nomad in every sense of the word.
My connection lies in not connecting, or so it seems.
A survivor of many things.

3:00am my watch alarm goes off.
The little boy at the orphanage in Chennai set it.
Reminds me of him.

I awake and Janet is gone leaving me keys and free range to the fridge.
I walk around the house in my speedos.
Reminds me of Natalia's uncle when I met him for the 1st time in Bahia.
Freedom.

I call someone.
They call back.
I am happy.
I speak to my mother, next.
Blessings given.

Everything seems intact.
I confronted shade in my stay.
I used it as fuel and understand it.
It's not me.
I close that chapter.
Growth.

I fill my water bottle an trek.
Door locked.
Headed to Bloomfield Station.
HOT AS BALLS OUTSIDE!
Striped tee.
Rock and Republic jeans.
HOT!
I catch the train to City Hall.
However, not before I encounter the expected asshole.
Draped in a police uniform.
Hiding behind a badge.
"Ticket please."
I hand it over.
"Get off on the next stop, you don't have a stamp."
"Stamp? For What?"
"You know you need a stamp"
"I don't."
"You do. Just get off."
I think.
I sit.
Waiting.
Bags sitting in front of me - ALL 4!
His partner.
"Whose bags?"
"Mine."
"Going or coming?"
Does it matter? - I think.
"Going"
"Really? Where?"
None of your FUCKING business - I think.
"Paris."
*I left my sunglasses from my eyes to my bald head which is more dry than hot and sweaty.*
"Hmm...Really? For what?"
Interrogation? - I think.
"To study."
"That's cool."
His morale shifts.
I look out the window.
"Ok, get off."
His partner.
"Why does he have to get off?"
I continue to look out of the window.
"Because he doesn't have a stamp."
"He's fine."
"He needs a stamp."
"Well, hold the train and we'll get it."
He smiles and tells me to get my ticket.
He holds the train and inquires about my tattoos.
5 sparrows on my left wrist.
Every 5,000 nautical miles traveled is one sparrow - Semester at Sea did 26,000.
My rites of passage.
Sparrows signify so much - close to home.
I made it home - whatever this means.
I saw a lot, ate a lot, experienced a lot.
Not just for me.
To bring with me.
My dialogue.
My smile.
My tears.
My sense.
My questions.
My love.
My passions.
My me.
All parts of me.
He is blown away.
"That's awesome. You have safe time in France. I look foreward to reading about you."
"I'm flattered. One day."
I give him an article.
The one I wrote.
The diaspora.
It impacts us all.
Not just displaced people of African descent sprinkled around the world.
Cell phone officially disconnected.
I am happy.
Never thought I'd see the day.

Newark Penn Station.
5 blocks N. and 3 blocks W.
One tank top, Calvin Klein underwear, and R&R jeans drenched in sweat.
Monsoon style.
I look a sweaty mess walking in City Hall.
I see her.
Janet and Torres take me to the airport.
Laughs, jokes, double checks of what's needed.
Funny photos and plentiful kisses.
We part ways.
It gets real.
I check in - Lufthansa Airlines.
Plane ticket a week before.
It's reality.
Boarding pass and a smile.
Metal detectors.

Money exchange.
My roommate.
Happenstance?
Same flight.
We sit.
We talk.
We are on the same flight.
We journey together.
Only 2 guys in the program of 14.

Boarding
Dumb tired.
Actually, stupid doo doo dumb tired.
I crash upon seating.
Aisle seat.
In the stuart's way.
I awake.
My neighbor is nice.
We introduce ourselves.
She shares her Riesen chocolate.
She's headed home to Germany for the Eurocup.
Happy.
I see it.
I feel it.
I bask in it.
We talk and open up.
Life.
Travel.
Identity.
Sex.
No sex.
We drink wine.
We get lit.
Things are funnier.
Words are more intense.
I can see the words.
I can feel the words.
We open up.
We fall asleep.
We eat.
We talk more.
We photograph together.
We will be in touch upon my return and hers.
September is when I set foot on US soil, again.

We land in Dusseldorf (total sp?)
We part.
A kiss on each cheek.

Transfer.
Re-connect with Calvin.
We talk about our connections with our neighbors.
Trying to figure out the European adaptors to charge our computers.
Fuck it.
Wait til we get to Paris.
Get to Paris?
Wow.
Insanity, still.

A shuttle takes us to the smaller plane.
I am still taking it in.
But now, I am tired.
Time zones got me.

We board.
I sit by the window.
I nap.

We arrive to Paris.
It's a BEAUTIFUL airport.
I am like a kid in a candy store.
The escalators.

The Amazing Race.
Bags and suitcases in toe.
I have his stuff and he has mine.
We've known each other forever - or so it seems.
We see words in French.
I can cuss here?
Gee Whiz!
Because "excuse my french."
No need to be excused here.
"Damn, Spanish has come in handy and so has Portuguese...but I know absolutely no french accept shit like..well, my name and petit fomage. Yes, Little Cheese! I say "Child Cheese" and "Niño Quesito."
lol.
I digress.
Our goal is to get from the airport to Place d'Italie.
It almost felt like America's Next Top Model.
Be there at a certain time, check in, and meet everybody.
It was fun.
A really nice and cute guy - Eram - showed us how to get our tickets for the Metro.
yeah, simple like MTA (NYC's transit) but this is all in French.
Sweet guy.
We start our journey.
Standing at the base of the platform waiting for the train.
We look at maps and then look at each other.
Laugther.
We made it.
An older light skinned woman who kind of looked like the women in my family.
I hold up the map and ask her and she unloads a mouthful of French.
And automatically I respond in Spanish - don't know why.
And we laugh.
Thank God for maps.
She is going that way.
She holds onto the map.
We use our hands and body language to communicate.
She is from Martinique.
She is in town for a 6 day vacation.
She inquires about us.
Calvin has a French phrase book.
We remember on the train.
Train arrives.
She grabs my bag and motions for us to hurry up.
We get on.
I look around...
comparing and contrasting NYC's train system to Japan's to DC's/
I realize I am a traveller.
I realize I have always yearned to be.
Though it's been a fight.
It's me.
I love it.
A lot cleaner.
She sits and smiles.
She tells me that we have "Sept" stops before we get to our destination where we change trains.
Calvin pulls out his phrasebook.
We scan the pages.
I point to phrases and she responds.
She gives me her mailing address.
I pocket it.
An incentive to now speak French.
Homage.
African Diaspora.
A distant relative.
Our stop -
We transfer.
She guides us.
Holding my globe printed knock off Le Sportsac bag - Pro Sport Sac purchased at Hong Kong night marker 2 months ago.
WILD!
She makes us take out our train tickets to transfer.
Calvin searches.
We are tired, anxious.
He finds it.
She squares us away.
Placing my bag on my shoulder - it's now sturdy.
She positions me in front of the aisle so I can get through easily.
She puts my ticket in and pushes me through and hands me my ticket.
Next, Calvin.
Round II.
She makes sure we have everything.
Kisses blown.
Nothing lost in translation.
Love.

Surreality.

We wait for the train to Place d'Italie.

We sit.

We take it in.

We get on the train with lots of luggage.

We get to Place d'Italie and look at our route.

STAIRS FOR DAYS!

We pump in with bags that carry our lives for at least 5 weeks in Paris.

Going up and not looking back.

We hit the streets.

We are in Paris!

2 black men from the Midwest.
Kansas City, MO
Chicago

My life with me.
We find our apartment for the summer - Cite d'Italie.

No longer an email away.
A phone call away.
A statement away.
Now, a reality.


More to come...



Ms. Acomat of Martinique. An angel.

Time for bed.


au revoir,
ADS

négritude

Just wanted to share some things...




1. "Ship Mates" Magazine. Semester at Sea. Spring 08 "My Life at Sea: Exploring Identity Through Travel"
2. Paris Noir: Art, Literature, and Life in the Contemporary Diaspora. By André D. Singleton

...but it's sssooo true, though!

(image used from postsecret.blogspot.com - one of my favorite websites in the whole wide world.)

ADS

FUCKING INSANITY!!!

I just wanted to share a video that I found on youtube from Carnaval in Salvador, Bahia, Brasil...



And yes, I was in the midst thanks to my dear Natalia and her family that showed me around and welcomed me while I was in town from Semester at Sea.

I literally re-lived the moment when the video started. What a memorable night.

I can't wait to go back and visit more often. Who knows I may live there during the winters. My immune system can't take the harsh winters. Sucks that my health is still impacted from cancer/chemo. But I am so glad to be alive.

Incredible.

I truly miss the Natalia and her family...and Salvador.

I must read for my program from Paris. 2 books have to be read in their entirety by Tues. June 10th when the program starts.

Me & Nat. Beijos mi amor.

Au revoir,
ADS

Live, Love, and Laugh...

Wow, so it's been a super long time, right?
I'd definitely say so.
So much that has to be written.
So many moments to re-live..
Or not.
I haven't decided how I will go about composing the latter part of my voyage.
I have been back home in NYC for a couple of weeks.
I am definitely a NOMAD, now.
Fortunately, friends have let me stay with them.
I really did give up EVERYTHING when I left for Semester at Sea in Jan.
No place to live.
No job.
Papa was a rolling stone, right?
Indeedy, Petey.
But you know what - I couldn't be happier.
I don't think I have ever been this happy IN MY LIFE!
These past several months literally circumnavigating did a lot.
Like - going around the world really is a big deal.
13 ports....WWWWWOOOOWWWW!!!!
And that's not to leave out the actual voyage - living on a ship.
A black man who willingly raised funds to be a part of a shipboard community that goes through the Atlantic Ocean.
I am speechless.
Don't worry.
I will continue to write.
Hell, I don't know how to NOT write.
So just keep up.

So right now, I am in Brooklyn staying with friends - Pia, Sasha, and Heather.
I am really grateful.
I leave next week?
Where - you ask?
Study in Paris, France!
The name of the program is:
Paris Noir: Art, Literature, and Life in the Contemporary Diaspora.
It's a summer abroad program through Syracuse that looks at the works and impacts of individuals such as James Baldwin, Josephine Baker, Aimé Césaire, Chester Himes, Richard Wright, Julia Wright, Anna Julia Cooper, Jake Lamar and James Emmanuel. It is Jazz. Hip-Hop culture. Archie Shepp, M.C. Solar; Wendi Wonda; Dwayne Dockery, and legendary, Nina Simone. Paris Noir is Présence Africaine, Négritude, New Negro, “Sans Papiers,” Immigrant movements along the River Seine. Black International Life. Madame Christiane Yandé Diop, Henri Lopès, “Bricktop;” Jocelyne Beroard; Patrick Chamoiseu and Texaco. It is art and imagination. Henry O. Tanner, Beauford Delaney, Barbara Chase-Riboud, even Picasso, Géricault, and writing on the walls in the Paris metro. And places: Cafés de Flore and Le Tournon; Montmartre, the Louvre, le Quartier Latin and le 18ème arrondisement. African markets; the University of Paris à la Sorbonne and St. Denis, in the banlieu. Immigration. Expatriation. Home. Paris Noir is a dynamic concept, a lived and imagined metaphor that swings - - from New York to Paris via Africa, Haiti, Les Antilles -- Guadaloupe, Guyana, and Martinique. Paris Noir is trans-Atlantic expressions of literature, art and contemporary life in diaspora, and in motion.

Paris Noir is an amazing, intensive five-week program, taught in English, where participants engage a multi-dimensional international experience. This is a unique seminar of academic, cultural and personal growth, urging students to experience, rather than observe, the “City of Lights.” Paris Noir encourages cultural immersion and exploration. It is not touristic. You will see the sites from a variety of different diasporic perspectives.

Like a jazz composition, the seminar class is arranged to convey variations and diverse interpretations of the Paris Noir theme. It focuses, simultaneously, on contemporary literature, art and life of African Americans in Paris, today, and during the 18th and 19th centuries, while stressing connections with global and diasporic relations to Africa, the Caribbean and Europe. As students delve into the “City of Light,” Toni Morrison's famous statement that, “invisible things are not necessarily not there,” takes on new meaning. French Africanisms. African presence, influence, history and aesthetics transform and redefine interpretations, and tastes in French art, fashion, cuisine, monuments, and everyday life. African/Diasporan realities and imaginations generate, in turn, new variations and renditions of the Paris Noir theme.

The seminar's jazz framework, allows students to explore Paris Noir from a variety of disciplinary stances, and pursue particular academic interests. Paris is our classroom. Morning sessions take place at the famous Café de Flore. The afternoon is devoted to active learning, in the city and surrounding areas. There are no pre-requisites.

Now, isn't this cool.

So stay tuned.

In addition, I just want to say that I had one of the happiest days of my life, literally, yesterday while hanging out with dear friends. And we didn't even do anything but eat and go to Chelsea Piers.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about dancing in the rain."
- Anonymous.

A few pics are below. Enjoy your beautiful, beautiful weekend and summer.
You made it through another season!

Au revoir,
ADS






1. Heather grooves to Michael Jackson - get down with the get down!
2. Pia reading, DOWN! BOOTS! You better be educated!
3. Well, me, jumping around the world - now, from NYC to Paris.
4. Live, Love, and Laugh.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, dear friends Earl and Sasha weren't around. Thus, they aren't photographed. But I want to let them know that I love them and we felt them there in spirit!

Hong Kong it is...

Hong Kong skyline outside my window.
Went to bed irritated because I have fallen behind in classes.
To be expected.
Not fun playing catch up.
Sensory overload.
A rainy day making me think of Seattle meets NYC.
The first image I see on a billboard is Dijmon Honsou.
I smile.
"Andre, you didn't tell us that you were EVERYWHERE! You and your damn CK's"
A friend jokes. That is such an Andre pose someone echoes.
Good times.
Hong Kong...never ever imagined, but I knew.
Every country is familiar, in some way.
What happens when one is not exactly a Stranger in a Strangeland.
I don't know.
Diplomatic Briefing, now.
These are cool.
Beijing tomorrow.
Jamie says "Welcome to Hong Kong" walking to fill her water bottle.
Lawd hammercy.
And last but certainly not least, THANK YOU DENNIS CHIN for sending me a Hong Kong list of things to do!!! Appreciate it!


I live for this pic! You better get it DH. Can't wait til it's my time, kiddo.

Ciao,
a

Gooooooddddddd mmmmoorrrrnnninnnngggg, VIETNAM!!!

The time is now 1.15a and we left Vietnam two days ago. I am sitting in the Union making an attempt to study for my Global Studies test, adding info to my address book, and composing my thoughts on a raggedy sheet of paper. I smell like Carol’s Daughter skin products from my hair to my feet. I have had 2 Red Bull’s – hey, I know they’re bad…but I am in college and I fought to drink these to stay awake. Thoughts are racing through my mind, seriously. The phrase “I don’t need a gun to blow my mind,” sticks out so much. Hmmm…guns. I am not a fan. I shot 5 bullets out of an AK47 in Nam’ (Vietnam). Vietnam stirred up mixed feelings. I thought about the folks I know of and people who have family that were in Nam. I think about my perception of wars, guns, manhood, drafting, child soldiers, combat, armed forces, etc. My 1st day in port I went to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Wow. This blew my mind – see I didn’t even need a gun. The Cu Chi tunnels are about an hour outside of Ho Chi Minh City formerly known as Saigon. During the Vietnam War the Vietnamese built tunnels to maneuver. Tiny ass tunnels. And the part that threw me for a loop is that they expanded the tunnels for tourism purposes and they were still tiny.

My mind seems to operate in matrices so when I look at the tunnels I was taken back, mentally, to the actual moments of combat. The Vietnamese were resourceful and created some insane traps. Everything that was used against them they turned into a weapon or for their advantage. For example, tires were used for sandals. They’d take the rubber and make it into soundproof sandals. Tunnels could be miles long and so many feet deep. A person could stay in them for days. They cooked their meals early so the steam looked like mist. I can’t even begin to describe the conflicting feelings of being there. And believe it or not but all 180 lean lbs, and 5’11 feet squeezed into a hole that was about the length of a size 10 man’s shoe, and 12 in width. Firing the guns were at the end of the Cu Chi tunnels tour. I was petrified to shoot because they were so loud. And to know that people have been killed and still get killed by these powerful machines got to me. I was outside in hot Vietnam and barely broke a sweat, however, as soon as I get an AK47 in my hands I sweating like a MAD man! I could feel the sweat drip from my back to my butt. The guns were stationary and there was a person to monitor but it still –finish my sentence – BLEW MY MIND! Yep. Afterwards, I was still a bit shook up but not as bad. I thought about the people I know and loved that died because of gun whether they took their life or someone else. Liberating? Oddly enough, very liberating. I am not even going to try and make sense of it. What a day that was.

There were a few things that I had to do while in Vietnam. I absolutely HAD to go to the Cu Chi Tunnels and also the Mekong Delta River. I literally dreamt about these two. Don’t ask me why, I just did. The MDR was a lot of fun. I went with Nancy. Nancy is fun to travel with because she’s down for whatever may happen while expeditioning with Andre. She doesn’t complain and has a great sense of humor. And if you didn’t/don’t know…Ho Chi Minh City has the MOST motorbikes in the world!!! I am not sure if that’s a fact, but it’s more than I have ever seen in my life. I was in disbelief. The streets are flooded with folks on their bikes and motorbikes. Families of 4 - parents and 2 children occupy them, old ladies, teenage girls, business men…everybody. SAS warned us not to ride them…but they’re so cheap and fun. So what did Nancy and I do? You got it…caught motorbikes to Mekong Delta. It was a little of 2 hrs to get there. Don’t worry, I accepted full responsibility and was ready for whatever may have happened. That’s the only thing I did that wasn’t recommended. But the route was so scenic. The way there I saw what I pictured the countryside of Vietnam to look like. There were cattle grazing in the green lands. It was like sitting in the middle of the Discovery Channel. I don’t know about you but I used to be all into tv. I am talking about trying to look all the way in the corners and edges thinking I was missing something. Thus, this felt like I was just plucked right in the middle. Seeing the women in the rice fields with their rice hats on picking rice and seeing children wave to me as we flew by on the bike…unbelievable. Songs like “Clocks” by Coldplay, “Pimpin’ All Over The World” by Ludacris, and “See The World” by The Kooks will never be the same. It was a soundtrack. But the song that broke me down on the way back from Mekong is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. Every word I feel was written for me. Because I have always felt crazy – what? Seriously though. I am not even lying. I thought about all of the things I have been through in my life and how I was on the opposite of the world. I even burnt my leg on the motor while getting off. It reminded me of when I got stung by a bee for the 1st time in S. Africa and didn’t know how to react because it wasn’t as bad as I imagined. It hurt, yeah. But I was waiting for the pain. There is something to be said about that. So after getting burnt, Nancy said “I got some cocoa butter…chapstick.” I laughed and put it on. It was really minor. And it was funny because I told her that I don’t mind because it’s a souvenir. I can say “Oh this old thing…I got it back in Nam.” All about the war wounds, baby. CHEAH! But back to the situation at hand – Crazy. I urge your to listen to it. I love it. The lyrics are as followed:

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions have an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Probably [Possibly (radio version)]

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
[Crazy lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I wanna be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

But Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

Uh, huh


I just thought I’d share.
And for giggles I loved listening to “Save a Horse (Ride Cowboy)”
by Big and Rich. Love this song.

The actual Mekong Delta was what I imagined. We went to a
A few islands and listened to Traditional Vietnamese music while eating papaya, dragonfruit, pineapple, bananas, grapefruit, and drank rice tea. Unforgettable. Btw, that was the first time I had dragonfruit –DEEEEEEEEE..LISH! It is pretty, too. Loved it. After our face stuffing of fruit we trekked to a small canoe where we paddled…well, we didn’t really paddle, but they let us feel like we did. We went through a smaller part of the river, more like a stream and had on our rice hats, as well. The Vietnamese folks loved my facial hair. How do I know? Because they’d always motion to me them feeling their chins and smiling and sealing it with a thumbs up which is actually pretty fun to see. And to think that I wanted to cut off my facial hair but gave up after Brazil. The whole time I looked like a little kid with my mouth gaped open, I am sure. I couldn’t help it. After that we trekked back to the ship to eat dinner and what was supposed to be a nap turned out to be me waking up the next day. I have been really tired. So I called it a day. I was fortunate to go to Nguyên Đinh Chiêu (Trương Mư) School for the Blind on our last day in Vietnam. A friend didn’t want to go so she gave me her ticket – dopeness! So I got up and ate breakfast and made my way to the bus. The thoughts going through my mind were along the lines of “Okay, Andre…just go, don’t have any expectations. But how can you communicate? Any other time you have body language, but you can’t even use body language because of the lack of vision…” But going was probably one of the best things I’ve done in my life. The school wasn’t far from where the ship was but it took forever because of the morning traffic and the bujillion people on motorbikes. When we made it we had a meeting with the head guy Tâm Nguyen. Our translator, Nguyêt Câm, was the best. You know I had questions for days. The ages were from 5-20 years old and kids from all over Vietnam and it’s surrounding provinces. Surprisingly, it hit me more than I expected because I have been wearing glasses since forever. I think I was 5 years old when I got my 1st pair of glasses and HATED IT! I hated when I got my eyes dilated because things were blurry and I couldn’t watch “In Living Color.” So that took me back and not to mention the fact that people call me Ray Charles when I wear my red Ray Ban sunglasses. Sure, it’s a joke but sub-consciously I think about what it would be like to be blind. Just more surfaced than I ever thought about. So as we get there we go to the kindergarten room and they are singing and I instinctively sat by a couple kids and held their hands. They touched my forearm to my shoulder and laughed and spoke to their teachers. Unfortunately, while sitting with my legs crossed one of kids stepped on my blister from the day before…ouch. So I had to excuse myself. After I got myself bandaged up we went to the older classrooms. This was more interactive. I saw a few kids looking closely at their papers while reading and I figured they were the low vision students. As the rest of the students from SAS walked in they stood and introduced themselves and sang for us. It made me miss my younger siblings and cousins. I do love children. Before I know it I was being asked for my name and where I am from.

“Hi, what’s your name?”
- My name is Andre
**they snicker**

“You from?”
- I am from U.S.A.
**they laugh more**

That’s about the extent of the English. But I found that much impressive. After they sing their song about a “Peace Bird” I suggest to the group we should sing for them. After the teacher announced that they started cheering like we already sang. I was so geeked. So what song did we sing? Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, of course. They sat in silence soaking it up. I found myself closing my eyes trying to imagine thee voices behind the eyelids. And the applause we got before had nothing on this next one. One little guy was up jumping, I am not lying. We parted ways and went in the hallway to meet up with the other group because they split our groups up. But as we chilled in the hallway which was more like an outdoor terrace, I noticed Quy who tapped me and didn’t say anything. I just sat on the ground and he played with my hands. It reminded me of my little cousin Nylah who would play with my ears as I fell asleep when I was going through chemo. Then before I know it 4 other of Quy’s classmates were out there interacting with my classmates. No language needed, no vision needed, just touch. As I sat, they guy who jumped up and down to show us his version of a standing ovation came over to me and fell on my lap and just stretched out. Not too long after another little guy was playing with my hand and my elbow, and my shoulder, and then my beard. The look on his face when he felt my facial hair was worth a million bucks. He became infatuated and grabbed his friends hand to feel it as well and they spoke to each other. I sat in silence. No thoughts. Just there. In Vietnam. But the best part was when he felt my glasses and realized that my vision wasn’t perfect either. Touching speaks volumes, and to think that so many of us are afraid to. Sure we have our reasons to not be affectionate…people don’t wash their hands, some people have wandering hands…but it’s okay to live a little. Before we headed out for the day I met a few other students and one was making something – I am not sure if it was originally going to be a bracelet – but as we made our way into the room I talked to him and he held my wrist and felt my watch then held my other wrist and felt my 2 bracelets from Brasil. He then took the material he had been working on and wrapped around my wrist to see if it fit. This made me laugh because it made me think of the movie “Ray” when he would feel the women’s wrist to indicate if they were thin/pretty. Though Vinh laughed with me, I am sure he wasn’t thinking about that. He told me his name and asked for mine. I decided I wanted to the bracelet and asked my tour leader to inform his teacher and him. When she did he shook the hell out of my hand and spoke to me as though I would all of a sudden understand Vietnamese. The teacher put the latch on the bracelet and gave it to him to put on my wrist. He was proud. Something about that moment…

I wanted to write something up about Vietnam prior to getting there. But I don’t like forcing myself to write. I don’t feel like I am trying to get some award for this experience. I am writing because it’s truly my way of sharing this with folks that want to do this, consider doing this, care, and for me. I realize that I must release what is inside and not internalize because it’s not healthy and it’s valid. I truly do wonder as I wander. I am just me. My feelings evolve. As much as I have my hang-ups and irritations with Semester at Sea…I am so damn grateful to be here. I am so grateful. This has been a hell of a journey. And though on paper it is more than halfway over. I truly know that this is the beginning. I don’t know what is ahead but I am here, now. I am doing my best to massage the numbness of so many things out that have taken place in my life. I let time run it’s course. I cry when it’s time to cry, I laugh when it’s time to laugh, and I love. These are all my meandering thoughts and a year from now they may be the same or they may be the polar opposite. However, whatever they are…it is what it is. One life to live.

In conclusion, a dear friend of mine sent me this and it brought me tears. It aided in massaging this anger in the middle of my chest from so many things. Obama’s speech had the same impact. And afterall, I am realizing that I am crazy and not crazy – it’s all a part of being human. Welcome, to the human experience:

To you, my friend,
Whose eyes have been opened by the light of knowledge
Whose heart has been burdened by the weight of knowledge
Whose mind has been freed by the power of knowledge
And whose hands shall forever work to share that knowledge,
I know that your journey has been an enlightening one, fraught with discovery and insight. You will return to your native country a changed man, but a man in the truest sense of the word. You will have accomplished something most people only dream of, hope for, pray for...
You will be the man that life has meant for you to be. You will know instinctively the path that your life should take. You’ll always have the burden of history behind you, but you will also have the strength of history behind you. You will have millions of people - past, present and future - standing beside you, supporting you in all your endeavors. And you will have me, a lifetime friend and confidant.
I hope that your journey has been a safe and happy one. I’ve been following your exploits on all your various blogs and posts and loving every minute of your trip. Glad to hear you managed to meet up with your godsister during your trip. That was obviously something that was meant to happen - I don’t believe in coincidence. ;-) Kinda like you and me - meant to happen as it has.
Be well on the rest of your journey. Know that I am always thinking about you and hoping for the best for you. Love ya kid! Have a great time! Chat with you soon!
Louie


****And on that note – I gotta finish studying and pass these classes. Next stop, Hong Kong, Beijing, and Shanghai!****

Ciao lindos/lindas,
a

Oh yeah, and how could I forget this - Brazil Pt. II. Well, for those of you who have been following my blog then you know that I had a situation where I accidentally left half of my clothes in Salvador. For details check the archives. I took another chance in HCMC, Vietnam and got my few jeans that I still have tailored. I couldn't beat the couple of dollars it would cost to make my jeans look like they were poured on. Well, my motorbike driver for the day, Dang, took me to a place and I could have sworn the lady said the jeans would be ready at 6p. But somewhere lost in translation she said 5p. I don't know. To make a long story short, I show up at 6p and she has payed me dust, honey. Shut down and locked. I shook my head in disbelief. Dang actually took me to Mekang Delta so he promised before we went to the MK he would take me there in the morning. We did just that and she scolded me, politely in Vietnamese. I was happy though - I TOOK A CHANCE! And it was worth it. But it would have sucked SO BAD to have not gotten these clothes. My grandma nem must be praying for me...m-hmm, sho nuff right.

Listening to - "Woh Ajnabee - The Train" by Mithoon & Shilpa Rao. Love this song! Got it India. Alright, I am gone for real. I must finish my readings.