June 10th: Student Graduation Speeches

Vietnam Trip Reflection

Student #1

Three years, two. Nine months, ten weeks, one week, one day until Vietnam. I’ve been counting down forever, this trip a recurring topic of dinner-table conversations and doctor’s appointments. Constantly a mark in my future, a dot on the horizon. But suddenly, before I get a chance to ask, “Can we go now?” We’re back, writing reflections and preparing for Global Studies Day. The eighth grade trip has been in the future for so long that now that it’s behind me, it’s hard to imagine that I was actually there, in Vietnam. And that disbelief has helped me to recognize the value of living in the moment. Over the course of the trip and now, looking back, I’m discovering that being fully present throughout many of my experiences there will help to preserve my memories and make this trip a milestone, instead of just a bump along the way.

It might be more interesting to say that I stepped out of my comfort zone the second we arrived in Vietnam – by trying octopus or bargaining in the language – and from there the trip got off to an exciting beginning. But my first memorable experience in Vietnam was just looking out the window of the bus, watching the city go by. There was a lot to look at: run-down buildings lining the streets with bold yellow signs in Vietnamese, people on the sidewalk sitting in small red plastic chairs, laughing as they played cards or drank beer. Alongside us, two kids between their parents balanced on a motorbike, an old lady wearing red polka-dotted pajamas rode by on another, and a young couple in matching pollution masks on another. After not even being outside for five minutes, the heat was overwhelming, a thick humidity that tightened around me, forcing my throat to make an effort to breathe. I was fascinated with my new, drastically different surroundings, and I felt a rush of apprehension and excitement slam in to me all at once. I savored this moment, absorbing everything around me and letting those emotions sink in.

Being more aware of every aspect of an experience helps it to stay in focus in your mind, as if it were yesterday. On our way to the Mekong homestays, it started raining on the boat, and Kanish, Claudia and I ran out to the un-sheltered back to remind ourselves of the Seattle weather. And all at once, the rain was coming down harder, it was pouring, hailing. I could feel each individual pellet of rain bounce off my skin, slipping down the back of my shirt, running off the tip of my nose. It hadn’t gotten any easier to breathe in the thick, muggy air, but the rain felt exhilarating, a refreshing clarity. After just a few minutes, we were all soaked to the skin with sore throats from laughing too hard, but we didn’t care. Looking back on this, I appreciate even more being awake and being there, really there and conscious of everything around me, from the sharp focus of the river to the pounding of the rain against my skin. It makes that experience worth reliving again…and again, and again.

I never really thought of going one step beyond people’s expectations as being that important – really, what comes out of that? Well, our last afternoon in Nam Sai, I didn’t really want to journal, so I offered to help Thoy, the wife of the young couple we were staying with. I watched her while she was slicing a bamboo stalk, and after a few minutes, she caught on, asking me to grind the pieces she had cut up into a type of mix. I thought this was for our dinner, so I was kind of excited to be helping, but later I found out that it was for the family’s pet pigs’ dinner, not ours. Later, Thoy led me out of the house and down the street, leading me to an open area where she burned all the trash from the homestays, including our choco-pie wrappers from earlier. Thoy and I smiled at each other on the way back, and the next morning, before we left, she attempted to say “thank you” to me in English, and I tried to reply in Tay, her native language. As we left, I felt content with myself and the work I had done the previous day. It was so interesting to see what goes on behind the scenes at the homestays, and incredible to be able to connect with someone from a background so different than my own. The strange thing is, if that one thought to help hadn’t occurred to me, I would have never made that bond – and it might be a long time before I have the opportunity to do something like that again. This has taught me that I should make use of the time I have with people, and to go that extra step beyond what people ask of me, because something great may come of it.

Something Robert said on the trip really stood out to me. In Halong Bay, he told us to remember that when we return from Vietnam, the trip won’t be over unless we allow it to be. There are no endings, only beginnings. I think as we move forward with our lives, as we all go our separate ways at different high schools, we should try to remember this. We should try to remember the trip not as something that has passed, but instead as a collection of memories and lessons that will stick with us. I want to remember what I learned in Vietnam – to be conscious and aware of every moment, to absorb what’s going on around me, to make use of time, because it’s valuable and too easily lost.

Vietnam Trip reflection 2014

Student #2

       At the beginning of the trip, I treated the global studies opportunity as a means to learn about Vietnam and see the locations on the itinerary. As soon as I arrived, I knew that I would want to immerse myself in Vietnamese culture.

        On the last morning of our Sapa homestay, I got up as early as I could. I grabbed a book to read, my phone to take a time lapse and a thin jacket. I stepped down the creaky stairway, tiptoed across the room and slipped out the side door. As I stepped out, the cool breeze of Sapa mornings hit me. It swept through me, calming and quieting my mind.

        I hopped up on a ledge and just sat, watching the sun’s beams gradually light up the valley. Once again, I felt humbled at the simplicity and depth of watching. Along with sight, I did my best to stop and take in with my other senses. As the sun made its ponderous ascent, I took in as much as I could.

        As if on cue, all the roosters began cawing at once, an impromptu orchestra filling the valley. I saw the light gradually fill the sky, like a piece of glass heating until burning bright with a fiery red. As the wind passed through me, my mind was reminded of the phrase, “simplicity is the ultimate sophistication” (Leonardo Da Vinci). A wave of emotion swept over me as I realized how the smallest actions could lead to a sophisticated understanding of an area.

        In the afternoon of our third day in Sapa, part of our homestay group went on a long hike around the valley. The whole first hour was purely uphill. When we finally reached the top, we were stunned to see a wide expanse of lush mountains and rolling rice paddies in front of us. I looked around and my friends were just as bedazzled as I.

       As we gradually cooled down, I realized how powerful it was just to stop and look over the valley. With an action as simple as gazing, one could glean so much. Along with the beautiful landscape, one could feel the emotion of the whole valley. One could feel the peace emanating from the tiny huts that dotted the landscapes. With as simple an action as just gazing, I felt incredibly connected to the valley.

        As the sun set on the second day in Sapa, we saw a lack of clouds. Excited, we knew it would be a good night to look at the clouds. As the sun set, we prepared ourselves. We sprayed deet-filled bug spray, we put on long sleeve shirts and we watched the last rays of sunlight disappear.

        Finally, we grabbed our flashlights and went down to the river. We laid down on a large rock and looked up. At first, we only saw a few stars, but as our eyes adjusted, it seemed like a whole world had cleared. Once again, I was astounded by the amount that could be seen by just opening one’s eyes.

        Throughout this trip, it has been my goal to just stop and look. Everywhere I go, I tell myself to slow down and take the mere five seconds to open my eyes. Each day, I felt more and more immersed into the culture. Instead of just a walk, it became a movie. Instead of just a bike ride, it became a hands-on tour. Instead of just passing, it become seeing.

Global Studies Trip Reflection

Student #3 

       For months Evergreen’s Class of 2014 studied the country of Vietnam. We learned all about its history, its culture and its people. We planned exploration days and researched modern sites and attractions. One could say by April we were already pretty familiar with the country. However none of that compares to the Global Studies trip itself. Personally, I haven’t traveled much, so this was a huge experience for me – getting on a plane a flying across the entire Pacific Ocean to reach a land totally foreign to me and staying there for a month. Spending a whole month in a country really opens the curtain to novel experiences and fresh views on things like relationships, connections and values.

Moments of realization appear in many different situations. While receiving our letters from our families, the understanding of the importance of relationships between me and those I care deeply about hit me like waves against the shore. I rested there on the beach in near-silence. Sitting on the warm, yellow sand, looking out into the sparkling, light blue water and listening to the waves move in and out created a feeling of paradise. It allowed me to reach into the impossibly indefinite depths of my mind, and pull out this new-found awareness. I sat there, my brain exploding with thoughts, and my heart beat with a new level of love and feelings of connections. With my feet buried, I stared at the letters from my family, slightly tucked beneath my flip flops so they wouldn’t fly away with the wind. It’s insane. I never really realized how important these people are to me – how much I need them to be in my life – until I became separated from them. It’s something I need to be happy. That may not be for everyone, but I know that I don’t know where I’d be without my family and friends or what I’d be doing with my life. Those most often around someone influence him. Even if it’s just the slightest thing they teach him and influence him. I believe we learn from and gain support from those around us. Without the tight-knit relationships – without people to talk to, to guide and get guidance from, or to be free and oneself with – life would be much harder. That’s what this experience taught me: tight relationships make life so much easier to push through, and we need to cherish that right.

My second moment didn’t come to me until at our Sapa homestays. At our homestay in the little village of Nậm Sài, we lived the life of the poor Vietnamese farmer. But that’s not what triggered my moment. What really prompted it was the family we stayed with. The (pronounced “Thay”), Thuoi and Thien were the members of the family – Dad, Mom and Son respectively. Thuoi was so eager to create a bond between her and us as much as she could. When she wasn’t busy with work, she would come over to us and observe our activities, and we talked and smiled and talked some more. It was uplifting to see her try so hard to get to know us all – we don’t speak the same language but we live on the same planet and that’s enough to prompt the enthusiasm for friendship. Thien was also keen, but remained shy with us at first. We all attempted talking to him and having him join us at the table. However he refused our offers. Like most kids, it wasn’t until we brought out things he could play with that he joined his mother in acquainting himself with us. We brought out cards, flying toys and iPads. All I could hear from them were English words and Thien and Thuoi laughing. It’s remarkable to not watch, and just listen, because sometimes the sounds made are even more powerful and revealing than the sights themselves. Hearing our group, Thuoi and Thien talking made my heart flutter with the observation that despite the fact that we can’t talk to each other, we’ve all become closer and made unlikely friends with people across the world simply by sharing experiences and emotions.

Then suddenly, the trip was over. There I was, standing just before the plane that would soon carry me away from the wonders of Vietnam. My toes met the edge of the tunnel, hesitant to board. I knew once I took the next step that my trip was really over. It seemed like just a few days ago I was standing at the door to my hotel in Hoi An, figuring out how to shut it without slamming it. I never did. But right then I realized I shouldn’t be solemn and defeated because the trip’s over and we were leaving. Instead, I realized I should be appreciative that I was able to come on this phenomenal trip. I should be grateful for all the memories that I created, not regretful for all the ones that I could have made, or maybe missed out on. That was my third moment.

            There were so many other significant experiences on the trip – profound or random. But the moments I mentioned really struck something inside of me. I’ve learned how important it is to have tight relationships with those I really care about. I’ve learned that language isn’t necessary for deep connections. Lastly, I’ve learned how important it is to just appreciate the extravagant things I’ve been able to do in life because I never really get chances like this, and as soon as I appreciate how valuable it is, I can truly immerse myself and make the most of the experience without regret after its conclusion. Vietnam has been a unique and thoughtful experience with amazing lessons to teach anyone. They left their ghosts clinging to my mind.

Vietnam Trip Reflection

Student #4

Traveling through a country so different from my own raised many questions for me as a student, as a traveler and as a person. From Ho Chi Minh City to the homestays in Sapa I learned to question my surroundings and what they mean in the broader view of life and what they mean in the moment. Perhaps I didn’t come back with a whole new idea of who I am but I did come back with a new perspective of the world around me and of how I fit into this vast and expansive planet. This trip has allowed me to learn for myself that learning isn’t necessarily about receiving answers but about asking the right questions.

It was the second night in Sapa and I had previously been meditating against a wall near the bathrooms on the ground of our homestay when Eli asked if I wanted to go somewhere for some peace. I eagerly agreed and after grabbing Lucy’s flip flops followed him. We walked on a path I didn’t even know was there behind the homestay, it took us by the pigs and chickens and as we walked the view was incredible. Once we finally got to a good stopping place, on a rice paddy Eli continued on a little further and I was left to think and enjoy the view. As I sat and stared at the sky and land beyond I began asking unanswerable questions that frustrated me. I wanted to know why I was born with so much privilege while others had so little, why I got so much choice in who I could be while so many of the people here already had planned out lives. I wondered what role I could play in such a vast universe, what affect my actions really when there were seven other billion people out there. I couldn’t answer these questions but I could decide how to feel about them. It would have been very easy for me to feel guilty and get frustrated, and although I was a little frustrated at first I also realized that with the opportunity I got I had to make the most out of it.

On the night train going into Sapa, after the rest of my bunkmates fell asleep I attempted to follow in their sleepy footprints but found myself unable. After tossing and turning for over an hour I gave up and decided to look out the window instead. We passed shack after shack and I watched as the lightning struck the lush hills in the distance. The train rambled on and I continued to watch what was outside through the slightly foggy glass. I noticed most of the lights in the houses were off, and upon glancing at my watch I realized why, most people weren’t up at 2:30 in the morning, but that only made me curious about the people that were. Were they staying up, asking the same questions as me or were they on the cusp of sleep, cursing themselves for staying up so late. These things I would never know, but I couldn’t help but to wonder. I laid back onto the uncomfortable blanket provided and closed my eyes, I still couldn’t sleep, but I did have something to occupy my mind with; the realization that there were so many questions that I would never have answered and that I was just one small person in a very large world.

I was hoping for air conditioning as my slip group walked into the War Remnants museum on our second day in Ho Chi Minh City. Although I had been told by a number of students before me what an intense experience it was, I was not expecting to be affected in such a drastic way as I was. Upon entering the museum the whole of my slip group decided to split up and meet back in an hour and a half, Charlotte and I moved at a similar pace, so we decided to keep each other company through the duration of our visit.

The first floor of the museum was rather positive and it offered exhibit after exhibit on anti-war efforts. We walked up the stairs and viewed room after room of graphic images and details of the war I hadn’t learned about in school. After we went through a room dedicated to the effects of Agent Orange, Charlotte and I looked at each other and shook our heads in disgust at what humans could do to one another. Charlotte and I headed back down the meeting place, only to discover we were quite a bit earlier than the rest of our group, which prompted us to take a look outside and walk from gift shop to gift shop browsing the stores for souvenirs.

 There was only one place we hadn’t visited, upon first entering I believed it to be a gift shop, but as we walked into I discovered it to really be the most gruesome exhibit of them all. We walked through, keeping our eyes on the signs letting us know of the cruel torture endured by many innocent men and woman, every corner teaching us of a new horrific method. As I walked out of the exhibit, my stomach did somersaults and my mind wandered freely, question after question filling it to capacity. I had so many questions, but the biggest of all was whether I would ever get answers and if I could be satisfied not receiving any.

This trip to Vietnam has opened my eyes to the role I feel I play in the universe. Although I don’t suddenly feel I have all the answers, I do feel as though I don’t need them. I can simply be happy asking questions and finding the answers along the way. I realized on this trip that the answers you receive aren’t necessarily to the questions you ask, and sometimes you just need to ask different questions. Although written down or even said out loud, this may be hard to understand I do feel as though the world is what you make of it. I can either live my life frustrated at what I don’t know or I can continue learning and absorbing the knowledge of everyone and thing around me. I can accept that I won’t ever know everything but I won’t accept not at least trying to.