#64: An amazing trip (by Thanh An)
Posted: May 3, 2010
Filed under: 4love, travel
Tagged: 4love, travel, vietnam
Comments: 1 Comment
Description
This entry is not written by me. Please read the previous entry as an introduction for this entry.
The entry is written by Thanh An – who is a blog reader, a kind-hearted Vietnamese, a lovely woman and a rocker (you know I always love rockers, haha)!
It is long – but it is worth reading!
It is not so bold to say that I have got many chances to experience several unbelievable and unforgettable trips, yet the trip to Van Village on the Labor Day of 1st May is so far the most meaningful one. I’ve known a girl, not actually “know” in the way that I know her and she knows me as it is only a “one-way sort of knowing” (though it’s changing now, thanks to the trip). If I could only pick one word to describe this girl, it would be “awesome”. Yes, she is awesome, and awesome in so many ways: her “odd” appearance, her endless energy, her valuable life experience, and most of all, the way she inspires others, and me. She’s got a weblog (www.hakinkin.info) and that’s my most favorite Internet website in the world. I visit her blog almost every day, sometimes 2 or 3 times per day, and I’ve never ever missed a single entry in that blog. Some days ago, I saw a new entry about her trip to Van Village, Da Nang. Van Village, or more commonly known as “village of the leprous”, is located along the beach between Da Nang and Hue. It used to be home for people suffering from leprosy (a tropical disease mainly affecting the skin and nerves that can cause tissue change and, in severe cases, loss of sensation and disfigurement). In the past, people were frightened by this disease as there was no medicine or cure for it. And people with leprosy suffered not only from the disease itself, but also from the public fear that they would spread the disease easily. As a matter of fact, these people were gathered and sent away, far from crowded resident areas. Or more exactly, they were “exiled” to a remote place, Van Village, totally separated from other “civilized” and healthy people. That’s how Van Village was formed. Now, the village has expanded and housed many other healthy people as well, some of them are children and grandchildren of the leprous generation, some come seeking for new life, some just simply fall in love with the beauty there. I still remember when I was in secondary school, my dad took me to Van Village on a retreat trip of his company. I came there by boat, and I was immediately amazed by the natural beauty of this place. The greenness of the mountain and the blueness of the sea painted a wonderful picture in front of my eyes. At that time, I thought of nothing else except that this village was an incredible “tourist attraction” (we came there as pure tourists). I did think about coming back, but as time went by, that thought has been drowned by so many other trivial, daily worries.
Just as I was feeling so bored and fed up with all the endless and “weekendless” working time, I came across her entry about Van Village. The instant moment I saw the title, I knew for sure where I would be this coming holiday. In that entry, she wrote about her journey to Van Village, her feelings towards the people living there, her love for that place, and most importantly her request for someone to help her bring the photos to the elder patients. The sooner these patients get their photos, the better as they are rather old and weak, no one can tell how long they could wait to see their own surprising photos. Without a second of hesitating, I told her I would go. But as I was rather “new” and strange to her, I feared that she might not trust me enough for such a task. So I took a “decoy” (ok, decoy sounds rather bad, but I had to win her trust, right?) that was my best friend’s sister whom she knew already, saying that I and that little girl (named Chi) would go to Van Village for her mission. And that was a pretty good beginning. We spared one day for all the preparation and searching for more company (especially men to carry all the heavy stuffs). We were able to “flirt” 2 more men, one is my student 
and the other is Chi’s friend. Nice enough. Finally, the G-time came, and off we went!
To my most honest confession, I had no idea how to get to Van Village on foot, and as I was the one who started the whole thing, other 3 trusted me completely for my guiding. Oh oh, such a heavy burden, isn’t it (not counting the heavy backpack yet). Kin said on her blog that she parked her bike (somewhere) on the Hai Van Pass and (somehow) climbed down (somewhat) a trail to the village. Not a very clear instruction, obviously. So I did google the direction a little bit the night before. All I know is that we have to go up to the peak of Hai Van Pass, there must be a trail there (somewhere, hmm) and we should just follow the trail. Easy enough, then. Starting fresh and early in the morning, we went up to the pass, higher and higher, leaving the city behind, reaching to the blue sky and white cloud. Our spirits felt just as peaceful on the road winding along the mountain as the calm sea winding below. When we came to the peak, I thought it would be better if I asked for direction. So I did, and one man showed me the red-earth trail down the village. There it came our first luck of the trip. Another man standing nearby overheard the story and told us that trail was no good at all as it’s very difficult to find the way through the dense trees. And that no one seemed to use that trail for ages. OK, that started to sound bad. Is there another way to get there? I asked them. They told me (after some arguments and disagreements, phew) that we got to go back, down to the Doi bridge near the foot of the pass. There we would find a badly damaged house (hit by a big storm and has not been repaired yet) on the edge of the road. They would watch our bikes and show us the right way. Alright, thanks! And let’s go down babies.
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