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.

We found that poor house (the only untouched part is the gate) and it’s time for our second luck in the day. When we were parking our bikes and asking for direction, one man asked me why we came to Van Village, and if we came for camping like others did down there. I explained to him the little mission of ours, he seemed very happy to hear so and offered to take us there (he’s going to the village as well). The trail is very bumpy and sloping. But to our amazement, that man (named Hiep) walked like he was walking along Bach Dang street, and I didn’t mention he was carrying a carton of instant noodle in one hand, and a big (seem heavy too) bag in the other. He kept talking all the way, telling us about the village life, the patients, the visits of many charity groups, and how to help these people properly and equally. I had a hard time keeping up with his pace, listening dearly to him, and answering his questions or making some comments at the right time. He made the bumpy journey down the trail so short and interesting. I was so sure that without him, we would be lost in the woods, or wandering somewhere along the railroad, maybe even hit by the train, who knows! He took us right to the house of the Head of Village (named Duc) and told us if we needed anything, just asked Mr. Duc. We told him our purpose and showed him a photo (ooh, such a big and beautiful photo, he said in surprise) to further illustrate what we’re going to do. Mr. Duc told us just go down to the village, we would find the right persons there (another note, we didn’t even know the name of the persons in these photos). We went along the sandy road, both sides are filled with wild flowers and wooden fences. Since we still hadn’t gather breath after half walking, half jogging behind Mr. Hiep, we rested under the shade of the pine trees. The scene laid before our eyes seems to be taken from some poems or paintings. A boat anchored in an inlet, a cow resting under the tree, and a range of green mountains completes the background. I thought I could sit there until someone had to drag me home before it’s too late. Yet, we got a mission ahead (so maybe another time for sitting there ^^).

When we came to the village entrance, lots of villagers gathered around and asked us lots of questions. We did ask them many questions too. We showed them the photos. Each came out with a small surprising cry from the enthusiastic crowd. “Hey, it’s Mr. Hao. Woo, he looks soo handsome”. “Ah, it’s Ms. Than, she lives down that road”. “Wow, Ms. Chep looks great.” “Oh, Mr. Mot is no longer there he was so ill that his children had to take him home”. “Oh, look at that, that’s the weird plant on the jackfruit tree. It looks amazing on photo, huh.” So enthusiastic and happy they were that they offered to take us to these people. It took us a while to remind the elders of the photographer and the photos. When they saw themselves in the photos, they couldn’t hold back their happiness. Ms. Chep still got that care-free toothless smile, exactly the same on her photo when she held it up for me to capture the wonderful moment.

Ms. Than was a little bit shyer. But when I told her she looked so beautiful that she got 3 photos, she couldn’t help but smiling.

It was a great pity that we couldn’t meet Mr. Mot, so we left his photos there, asking the kind-hearted cook to give them to his son. We all hope and pray that he will be able to see how handsome he is in his photos (before it’s too late). I tried to persuade the kids who took us there to let me take a photo of them. I even promised I would print that photo out, big and framed, and send them. But they were too shy to accept, and they just ran away, their laughs echoed down the road. We stayed and talked with the old ladies for a while. We could see the happiness clearly showed on their face when they talked with us. I thought this is the first time they ever had something like this, a very nice photo of their own to hang on the wall (and to show off with others as well ^^). They might have received lots of charity gifts, from food, to clothes and money, but I bet they never thought of such a gift like this And these are not charity gifts, these are love gifts Love which comes naturally and unconditionally from Kin, and from us.

When their lunchtime came, our stomachs cried for food too. So we told them we’re gonna go out to the sea for a while, and we would come back later. We walked along the beautifully blue beach and stopped by the rocks. I’ve got a feeling that, here, in this place, there is no clear border between the mountain and the sea. I had the nicest lunch ever in my life. I sat there, enjoying the scenery, but looking is never enough for me. I want to try. I want to swim, I want to dive deep in that blue water, I want to touch that boat anchoring there. What to do now? The only hindrance was that I was wearing a white T-shirt (you know, white would make the T-shirt become “transparent” if it is wet, argh). But the strong desire for swimming overpowered the embarrassment of a wet, “transparent” T-shirt. And that was the wisest decision of the day.

When we came back to the village to say goodbye with the two women, some kids ran towards us, asking for taking photos. Oh, wow, OK, I’ll do it. They hastily groomed themselves, tightening the buttons, and finding a nice spot to “pose”. While we said goodbye and went up to the pine wood, they called after us, saying they wanted more photos. Haha, it seemed they also wanted to see their own big and framed photos. So I came back, running barefoot on the hot sand. But this time, they wanted to take photos with “that sister” oh well, boys, they couldn’t keep their eyes of little Chi, huh.

On the way back, we dropped by the house of Mr. Duc to give him the photos of his children. He and his wife were so kind and keen on making us stay. She made us a big bowl of thinly sliced mango mixed with fish sauce and chili. Oh, even writing about it makes me “drooling” all over the laptop. Now I know clearly what “mouthwatering” means. The mango was extremely hot, I bet even a Thais would admit that it’s hot. 4 of us attacked the bowl in silence, sometimes broken by our inhales and exhales (tooooooo hottttttt). One after another, they failed the battle, only I remained steady and unchanged on the bowl of mango >:) (evil smile, hahaha). I also discovered something very interesting about eating tooo hot. OK, listen, if you eat a lot of chili, or a lot of hot food (especially for quite some time without stop to rest), you’ll be dizzy. Yes, dizzy, as in really dizzy, like being badly drunk =)) That happened to all of us. So, this could be considered our “discovery”, and I believe it should be broadcast on the Discovery Channel.

The effect of mango followed us all the way up. Without anyone talking this time, I got to rely on my cellphone’s music to keep us alert and energetic. I had another discovery as well: it is much easier to climb a sloping trail with a stick. That’s it. Great advice for trek lovers and hikers, then (though I doubt they’ve known that all). Up is always harder than down (oops, does this statement has a hidden meaning, hahahaha). We got to rest several times. But looking at the trail we’d just finished, we felt rather proud of ourselves.

I left the village with a promise of coming back and sure I’ll come back (with photos for the kids also). I did do a lot of labor on the Labor’s Day, and it was AMAZING.

Thanh An

Da Nang, Vietnam, 2008