Home is Where the Heart is

Winston says "Stay"

I guess you can call me the veteran of this ragtime band of outsiders.  Been here four years and counting now.  Seen buildings built, torn down, rebuilt, and demolished again.  Seen people come just to leave again like a migratory flock of exotic birds.  I'm Tom Berenger in Major League, Bruce Atman in Rookie of the Year, or Tony Danza in Angels in the Outfield.  Living in Saigon, you witness so many oddities, it eventually just becomes the norm.  Borrowing a quote from a good friend, "I'd look surprised, if I'm actually surprised."

What I'm trying to say is Vietnam is my "home" now, and its been this way for a while.  When I go back to visit friends and family in the state, I don't consider it going home anymore, I'm traveling.  I actually feel homesick when I stay away from Saigon too long.  How did I get to this point?  And when did I finally come to the realization that I'm a true Saigonese?  I'd like to say I can remember the precise moment it happened, kind of like when people can tell you the exact thing they were doing when they heard about the JFK assassination or the 9/11 tragedies, but honestly, it was a gradual transition like a rolling snowball turning into a monstrous avalanche.  It never really dawned on me until I woke up one day with a dog, a couple of girlfriends, and enough useless stuff to fill a football field.  Moving back to California is a daunting thought just because of the logistics of getting rid of all the things I've collected within the last four years, whether it's the bundle of unworn clothing, the discarded Saigon Dodgeball MVP trophy, or the plethora of ex-girlfriends turned friends.  Four years ago I came to Vietnam with a luggage of clothes and ended up staying.  Four years later, I'm shackled to Vietnam by the chains of domestication.  All I'm missing is a loving wife, two kids, and a stable job.  And when that happens, I guess you can call me a "lifer."

By SH