Monday was the day Dennis and I spent time together in Dalat. I wanted time to chat with Dennis about what we had done so far. From what you have read, it seems that we had a good time eating, sightseeing, visiting from place to place, etc as tourists. Yes, we did all of that but we worked as well. We had specific work to do and we have accomplished some of it. Time and again, surprises and our concrete experiences on site pushed us to reflect more on the mission of our trip.

We began the day with wet weather. It rained softly with a heavy fog at first, then heavier and heavier but not heavy enough to allow farmers to rest. They still had to go to their gardens to water the vegetables. Besides, it is the season of the coffee harvest.

After breakfast, some of seminarians went to the farm. The others had class. Dennis and I were waiting for a taxi and we left around 9 a.m. We visited the Notre Dame des Missions community which my sister entered in 1986. The main house is the same. They just “received” their school back three years ago after the local government “borrowed” it in 1975. It is a kindergarten now for children in the area from 3 to 5. Parents can choose to have all three meals for their children, two meals, or only lunch depending on the financial support of each family. However, most of them, 160 children, have three meals a day. Parents bring them to school at 6:30 a.m. for breakfast, then there's study and play. Lunch is served at 11:30 a.m. and supper at 4:30. One third of these students ARE children of the local police or Communist government officials. As is the tradition everywhere in Vietnam, we were served tea in small cups and coffee as well.

Leaving the community after a short visit of the house and school, I wanted to show Dennis “my family home.” I told the taxi driver to take us to the place my family always avoids visiting. He was surprised because he knew there was nothing to see. From conversations with Dennis, somehow he guessed that I had some link with this area. It was very sad to look at the house with a door closed and a piece of wood nailed across it. The front yard is overgrown. The roof seemed to be sagging from the wind and the weight of the red roof tiles. The windows are broken, the wall of the house is discolored from the weather. It is the same thing with our neighbors' houses.

We drove around a hill on which there was a “club”, a place as beautiful as some areas in Worcester. Now it is a Guest House of the Army. The architect was the same; but the color is changed, the gate is new, there is more grass than flowers even if Dalat is called “flower city.” From there, we drove to “the chapel” where we stayed for a long time. It looks absolutely like an “old farm house” for animals. I hear that the nave of the chapel was used as a “discotheque” for few years after 1975. All the gardens around the chapel have disappeared. The only thing we can see now is some small houses with “developed architecture.” They look like many heavy boxes on top each other without any order.

In the past there was another building which was built resembling an open arm. One side was a tower which has remained the same. The other end was a playground which disappeared I am not sure when. However, the entire hill was called Grand Lycée. Many of us still use this name; but it seems “too strange” to call it thus after 1975. Not far from the Grand Lycée, we entered the only Train Station which was built around 1940s. How dirty, disordered, and awful the station looks now! My parents and their generation could tell you how beautiful it was! It is one of many “tourist sights” for those who come to Dalat and do not know what it was like before. For those who knew what it was once like, they may excuse themselves politely if a visit is suggested. It reminded me of an experience I had in some areas of Rio de Janeiro.

Once we had passed by this area, we arrived at the University of Dalat. Before 1975 was the only Catholic university in Vietnam. It offered highly esteemed programs in French Literature, Business Administration and Social Humanism. Dennis and I walked slowly from villa to villa. The statue of Cardinal Spellman in front of the hall named after him was removed and replaced by a bush. The beautiful chapel had become a hall or a class room (I don’t know). The bell tower has a new figure which is a star blotting out what had been the cross. I walk slower and slower and I knew that the heaviness of my thought and feeling about the history of this place was pulling me down with every step I took.

It was time for us to have lunch. Of course it was “pho” again. I think Dennis may have had enough of Pho; but it was safe for him. After lunch, we went to visit one of my friends who has a photo studio and wedding business. He was my classmate. We took some pictures and chatted for a while. Dennis had a chance to see how someone can make the portrait of anyone beautiful!

From my friend’s house, we went to the Dalat market where you can find anything: food, shoes, clothes, souvenirs, vegetables, meet, fish, bread, beans, jams, flowers, fruit, etc. We bought some gifts for Japan and other things. Again,people were surprised to see us as we passed by. The reason this time was not Dennis’ appearance but because they recognized me. None of them expected to see me; but we met and talked. From the top floor to the bottom, Dennis slowly recorded many images of a place so familiar to me.

We needed a rest after walking around so much. I wanted to introduce Dennis to the “coffee house” culture. It looks like a bar but it is not a bar. It looks a restaurant, but it is not a restaurant. Is it a waiting room? No, it isn’t, but you can stay there to wait for your friend. It is a place to date, but you can be there alone to enjoy music and follow your thoughts. It is what it is and Dennis will explain to you what it really is. We stayed there more than two hours. We walked back to my friend’s house from and he gave us a lift to the seminary.

It was the last day in Dalat because we would leave the next morning. Dennis and I met with the director of seminary, the director of Pastoral Center and the Director of Studies to thank them officially at the “small coffee house” of the seminary. It was 4 p.m.

After night prayer, I was asked to spend time with seminarians to share with them some of my experiences in US. Again, education was a topic. After an hour, I went out to meet one of my friends. I returned when the stars in the sky had begun to shine. There wasn’t enough light for anyone to read; but I still “can see” everything on the return home. I started to sing a song………..

“My homeland is like a bunch of star-fruit on the tree, so I climb every day,
My homeland a path which leads to school, there is plenty of butterflies when I return home from school,
My homeland a blue kite, which I can fly on a hill through my childhood,
My home land a small boat, floating peacefully on the river.

My home is a traditional hat, which my mom uses to protect her from the sun,
My home is…. My home is…

Everyone has but one home; if one doesn’t remember, one cannot grow as a fully human being.'

Do you hear the song I sang?

Much love,

Dinh

Peace and God's blessings!

Footnote from Fr. Dennis Gallagher, AA
Regional Superior of the United States Region

All too much to absorb, these eleven days here. A few snapshots:

- the number of devoted friends and former students who wanted to be with Dinh these days

- the Oblate candidate this morning, obviously impressed by my height and not quite in command of English, excitedly putting her arm around my leg and exclaiming, "give me part of your body."

- parents with sick babies in their arms pacing in the street next to Saigon's Children's Hospital. Is there a replacement clause in the regime's one child policy?

- Our sisters - Little Sisters, RA's and Oblates - the warmth of their hospitality and the joy they take in their work

- Dinh's delight in pointing out to me the fruits and flowers of his native land

- Two older religious sisters, friends of Dinh's Mom, sitting with us at the home for retired priests in Dalat. Educated in France and former French teachers before 1975, their quiet dignity could not quite hide their sadness.

- Breakfast with the AA novitiate community in a local restaurant and this morning with the postulant community in their home. Vietnam is a good place to re-learn the beauty of the communal meal.

- the tears of Dinh's grandmother

- Speaking with well over a hundred young men and women at various levels of formation in our own communities and at the seminary in Dalat. I felt the stirrings of the teacher in me and also, more acutely the poverty of our own situation.

- The president and staff of a recently founded college we visited today, several of them former religious or seminarians, so obviously committed to the cause of education in their country

- thinking about the war and the number of my generation who died here was not far from my mind these days

- ah, the streets of Saigon

We leave for the airport in an hour. After a stopover in Seoul, we land in Osaka around 11:00 am local time

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter I

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter II

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter III

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter IV

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter V

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter VI

A Vietnamese Diary: Chapter VIII