New Belongings

“Jennifer, hurry you’re going to miss your flight!” Mom shouted up.

Mom, I thought and let those words sink in. I was nineteen and my Mom was my rock, best friend and confidant. It made this trip hard. We talked and talked till the early hours sharing our thoughts, she understood, she always did. Yet I know she feared losing me and however much I tried to reassure her and no matter how much she professed her understanding, there was that look of doubt and uncertainty which pained me no end.

I ran down the stairs with my luggage almost toppling over. Mom was standing at the bottom smiling but her face showed her true emotions.

“Dad is in the car.” She said like this was a trip to the supermarket but this was no ordinary trip. As I opened the front door Dad ran from the car to take my bags.

“I have them princess.” he said. I had always been his princess. Thinking about that I felt the tears well up, when I was a freshman in high school, I was embarrassed when he called me princess in front of my friends. Dad being Dad shrugged it off and for a long time never called me his princess. Then my boyfriend broke up with me and I remember Dad coming to my room with my favorite chocolates, Rolos! “For my princess.” He said and I just fell in his arms and wept buckets.

“Are you sure about me going?” I asked as we loaded the car.

“Of course you must go.” My dad told me.

“You are the only ones I will ever think of as Mom and Dad.” I said, again probably for the hundredth time.

“Jennifer, we have talked about this and of course you want to meet her. That is why we remained in contact with her through Mother Lee.” Mom replied pragmatically.

I hugged her inhaling her scent and got in the car. In my worry of hurting my parents I had pushed away the excitement and trepidation of this trip.

My parents had always wanted to take me to Vietnam but it had never happened but now I was going there to meet my biological mother. She had been so young, younger than I was now and thanks to my parents’ openness and honesty I bore no resentment. There was the natural response of feeling abandoned and unloved but my Mom had always been quick to point out that leaving me in the orphanage was simply an act of love and the hardest thing any woman could do.

Vietnam, I thought, my mother had always talked about it. Her best friend Aunt Felicity, my Godmother, was totally obsessed with the place and it was her who had told my Mom about the orphanage. I was surprised Aunt Felicity was not coming with me to Nam as she liked to call it. Mom and Dad had talked about coming but I needed to do this alone and besides they had my siblings to think about. After years of infertility, they finally got pregnant after my adoption. I never felt less loved or wanted when their “own” children came along but there is always the curiosity. The missing jigsaw piece that I needed to make me whole.

Aunt Flick had told me Nam was an infectious place and I would never be the same again. “Nam will get you Jenny, she will cast her spell and you will be mesmerized by her.”

Over the years she had bought me everything Vietnamese. I had an Áo dài (in every color imaginable). These are made of silk and are the national dress consisting of a long tunic with slits up the side worn over pants. Aunt Flick gave me the full history lesson one time going back to the Ming dynasty.

I wondered if the Vietnamese would think it odd that I did not speak much Vietnamese and the little I did speak was not great.  I was Vietnamese yet I was not. Who was I then? The seeds that were planted within were germinating and suddenly I felt so unsure of myself.

“Jenny, did you hear a word I said?”

I jolted back to the present.

“Sorry Mom I was .”

She cut me off and finished my sentence.

“Daydreaming.”

With that we both laughed, it was a common occurrence!

“I was checking you have everything we are nearly there.”

“It’s all here. Did you put the extra suitcase in for the orphanage.”

“Yes I did. It’s probably overweight, Aunt Flick kept adding more things.”

We chatted some more as we walked to the check in desk and I was already dreading saying goodbye. I promised myself not to cry but Mom and I set each other off and I watched Dad wipe a tear.

I went through security and waved at them until they were out of sight. I breathed a deep breath as I embarked on the journey to my Motherland.

It was a long journey giving me time to think and dwell on what I was about to encounter. I realized I was fortunate to be able to meet my birth mother. Many of the orphans never had any details of their parents as they were often abandoned. My mother had sought out Mother Lee in her late pregnancy, the nun had provided her with a safe refuge. I was excited that I would be meeting Mother Lee, she had sent me a Birthday and Christmas card every year and I in turn had written to her over the years. Aunt Flick had warned me she was getting frail. She still lived in the orphanage but it was now run by a young woman who had grown up there but had never been adopted. She had one arm and was left on the orphanage when she was a few days old, unwanted because of what she was lacking.

As we touched down in Hanoi, I surveyed all the surroundings. Aunt Flick had told me about the war bunkers and she was right! A reminder of the past.

I headed towards immigration to the foreigner line and was stopped by an official wearing what seemed like military uniform. My heart went into my mouth as he rambled on in Vietnamese. He was pointing to something and I looked to see it was the Vietnamese lines which were empty. In my limited Vietnamese I told him I was American and showed him my passport. He smiled broadly and spoke

“But you Vietnamese this way.”

“I have American passport.” I exclaimed.

“No you Vietnamese, come.”

I had no choice but to follow him to a desk with no line. The officer at the desk said

“You American passport but you Vietnamese. First time Hanoi?”

“Thank you, yes it’s my first time to Vietnam since I left as a baby.”

“You one of us, we happy you come.”

I smiled at the broken English aware of how much better it was than my Vietnamese. This was the Nam way Aunt Flick had described. Instantly I felt like I belonged here, a place where everyone was like me except for the language barrier.

Mother Lee had arranged transport to take me to the hotel and as I made my way to arrivals I saw a sign with my name. I made my way to a man not much older than myself; he was incredibly good looking.

“Jennifer.” He said in his accented voice.

I nodded and he started to talk in Vietnamese and I realized this was going to be a thing for the whole trip and wished I had paid better attention to the lessons my parents had made me take.

It turned out his English was superb and we chatted like old friends all the way to the hotel. Aunt Flick for my graduation had paid for me to stay in the Hotel Metropole, an old French hotel. We pulled up and I was overcome with the grandeur and fairytale feel of the place. My driver took my bags and gave me his card to call if I needed anything, otherwise he would be back the day after tomorrow to take me to the orphanage. It was there I would meet Mother Lee and my birth mother. I was excited but scared all at once.

I thanked him then checked in and was shown to the most beautiful room which was so Parisian yet full of Indochina charm.

I was suddenly very weary and realized it was 5am back home. It was 4pm here and I knew if I could just stay awake for a few hours I could crash for the night. I was ravenous, I took a quick shower and put on some fresh clothes and headed out to the streets of Hanoi and was just charmed. The smell of French bread mingled with, what was that dreadful smell? Drains it was the infamous drain smell Aunt Flick had warned me about!  I settled on some local food. I was familiar with Vietnamese food and could cook many dishes. I ordered some Pho with my limited Vietnamese. They blurted back in full speed Vietnamese and I had to recoil. Thankfully they spoke some English.

My Pho came and it was the most heavenly thing I have tasted and I wondered what the secret was!

I paid the bill and wondered around for a little longer just soaking in the fact that I was in Nam. There was something very transient about it and although I had never been here it evoked such familiarity.

I went back to the hotel, showered, texted my parents as it was still early but they called immediately. I should have known they would have been waiting. We chatted briefly and then I had to go as I could barely keep my eyes open!

I slept like a baby and awoke at about 9am. I wondered where I was but then remembered Nam! I dressed quickly and went down to breakfast.

I took a table at the window and watched the bicycles and motorbikes pass by, often with a whole family on them and all their shopping!  Some would gaze in and wave so I waved back. Breakfast was divine with exquisite French pastries that just melted and the best coffee I have ever tasted.

After breakfast I decided to go to Old Quarter and then wanted to go and see Uncle Ho in his mausoleum. I was fascinated by Ho Chi Minh and Aunt Flick had told me it was a must. I hailed a cyclo and in my limited Vietnamese asked to go there.

When I got there, I thought I was in Moscow. The beautiful French architecture was replaced by a cold bland grey square. Uhm not sure Uncle Ho would have liked this! Sadly, I got there to find out he had been sent to Russia for embalming. I shuddered it was a weird concept of keeping someone on show like this! At that I saw my cyclo driver as he had stopped to talk with someone and I asked if he could take me to Uncle Ho’s stilt house. He kindly obliged and chatted the whole way there telling me all about the revered Uncle Ho. I enjoyed seeing his house and hearing the propaganda, here in the North he was of course a hero. My cyclo driver had offered to wait and I found him talking to someone, the Nam way! I wanted to see the Hoan Kiem lake so he took me there, from there I knew I could walk back to the hotel.

The lake was beautiful evoking a dreamlike feeling. I learnt of the story of the famous sword and turtle and loved the Turtle Tower. By the time I got to St Joesph’s cathedral - where I had to pinch myself as I thought it was Notre Dame, I was ravenous. I found a little cafe and sat outside and started thinking about tomorrow. Going to the orphanage where I was born was an odd feeling and I had no idea what to expect. Obviously, I had no memory of the place I was barely six months old when I left. I wondered how my birth mother would feel meeting me there. Was that a little cruel for her to go back to the place she had to leave me or would it provide the closure she needed. I am sure Mother Lee would have thought it through, she was astute and tuned in and according to Aunt Flick the most Christlike and amazing person you would ever meet. I was lost in my thoughts when the waitress came and gave me my check.  

I walked back to the hotel and went for a quick swim then ordered some sandwiches.  I called my parents who were excited to hear about my day, I showered and barely remembered my head hitting the pillow.

I awoke to my alarm, dressed and went to breakfast and waited for my driver with trepidation.  

In the car we chatted and he told me all about Mother Lee and the orphanage. How it was run down but illuminated by love which is what Aunt Flick had told me.

As Hanoi went out of sight, paddy fields became the scenery with water buffalo. It was picturesque and I was mesmerized.

Finally, we pulled up to some old wrought iron gates in dire need of painting. As we approached children appeared and an older child opened the gate. We drove through slowly with children chasing us and waving.

The orphanage was a large building but it was almost dilapidated. As we approached a young woman with one arm who I deduced was the person who now ran the place, she had the most beautiful smile. She hugged me and then shuffling slowly I saw Mother Lee. Something jolted inside, this woman had saved me she had a presence I could not describe almost saintly and I was in awe.

“My child, look at you, I am so happy to see you.” She held her arms out and I ran into them and wept. Some internal mechanism recognized this embrace. I looked at her face and saw her tears, her love radiating out of her, just so pure and it was all I could do not to cry again.

“I am so happy to see you Mother Lee.”  Mother Lee I realized was like saying motherly I had not noticed that before, how appropriate.

“Come child let’s go to my study, there is someone waiting to meet you.”

I tensed and Mother Lee sensed my mood.

“Would you prefer look around first.” She asked kindly.

“No, we have waited both waited long enough.”

I followed her noticing how run down the place was. I was glad of her slow pace to give my stomach time to settle. I peered in through open doors and saw a room with a row of cribs and tiny babies. It was hard to think of me there. There was an older child attending to a crying baby shushing her gently. Mother Lee saw me looking in.

“It is an act of love when a mother gives up her child, it is not an easy decision.”

I smiled and nodded my agreement.

She stopped at that and took my hands into her frail liver spotted hands,

“Your mother had no choice; she came to me and I helped her she was fifteen. Several times a year she comes here to hear the news of you and see your photos. She has waited for this moment to reunite with you since she left you here, you were barely a week old. She has never once forgotten you.”

Tears sprung in my eyes and once she embraced me in that familiar way that made me yearn.

“Come child let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

I followed her once more as she opened a creaky door. A woman got to her feet and I froze. I was just like her, there was no mistaking my mother. We locked eyes and ran to each other amid sobs and tears. We never noticed Mother Lee slip out.

“My baby, forgive me.” She said in amazingly good English.

I looked at her.

“There is nothing to forgive.” And with that we both started to cry once more.

A few minutes later there was a knock and Mother Lee had returned with tea and cookies, carried by one of the older children.

We sat and chatted easily without any inhibitions. She told me how grateful she was to Mother Lee and my parents. She also went on to tell me she was married with two sons, eight and nine. My brothers I thought. We spent the rest of the afternoon together and I told her if she wanted to meet again before I left, I would like that. She of course did and asked if I would like to meet my brothers. I was leaving to see Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City as it was now known but Aunt Flick had told me it was sacrilege to call it anything but Saigon. I was also going to Nha Trang then returning to Hanoi. I could have got a flight from Saigon but there was a part of me that had hoped my birth mother would want to see me again. I decided to change my flight and leave a few days later so we could spend more time and she had insisted that I stay with them. It felt natural and right and for the first time in my life I finally felt whole. Aunt Flick had been right I was totally in love and besotted with Nam. I belonged here, a belonging I never knew existed deep within my soul.