Village Adventure, Day One: Train ride through the countryside

Well, I almost gave up on being able to post pictures, but they finally loaded!!! So here is part one of the account of our trip to the farming village...

At the beginning of April, we were able to accompany our friend, Jack, to visit his family and celebrate a national holiday in the village where he was born and raised. It is a rural farming village of about 300 people, and is located in a valley along with several other villages. This was definitely the most beautiful and rural area we’ve been to so far—quite different from the big city where we currently live.

It’s hard to really describe to you what our trip was like. I can honestly say that those 5 days of our lives were unlike any other. Some moments were so meaningful, some were fun and light-hearted, some were downright comical (like trying to hold Caleb over the squatty potty while holding Susanna in the baby carrier—and keep everyone clean! It’s nearly impossible!).

Other moments were extremely difficult, awkward, and totally devoid of comfort and convenience. We learned a lot about what is really important, what you can do without, how to “wing it” when you don’t have what you’re used to, and what it takes to endure both personally and as a family through not-so-ideal circumstances. I guess one of the most important things that happened there was the connection that came about between us and Jack’s family. In spite of the language barrier, the extreme differences in cultures and lifestyles, and sometimes even in spite of ourselves, a unique bond formed that I don’t think any of us will soon forget.

So, here goes my best effort to bring you along on our trip…

It was raining when we left our apartment at 8:30 Wednesday morning to catch a taxi to the train station. Honestly, we had mixed emotions as we headed out—excitement about the adventure we were going to have, apprehension about the not-fun, not-easy situations we would face, but most of all, hope for the possibility of higher things to transpire.

Meeting up with Jack at the station and getting to the train were fairly uneventful, until it was time to put our luggage on the train. I had tried to pack as conservatively as possible considering the circumstances and the place we were going, and until this point I had felt really good about how little we’d brought. But as we boarded the crowded train and lugged our luggage down the narrow aisle to look for a seat, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more conspicuous. People stare at us anyway, but they REALLY stare when you have that much stuff. Our friend had only a small, fairly empty backpack (for the WHOLE 5 day trip—that’s all he brought!!!). Everyone else was similar—had maybe a couple of bags, a purse, a backpack here and there. But WE, on the other hand, had a huge suitcase, a double stroller, a baby bed, a diaper bag, and a shoulder bag. And in that moment, whatever I had thought was so important to bring – it was too much. =) Oh well, lug, live and learn…

Anyway, after we found a seat and a place for our stuff, we settled across from a young guy and a few older men and women—brothers and sisters returning to their hometown for the holiday.

Throughout the ride, we shared small talk and listened to the Asian music that this gentleman was playing on a traditional instrument a few seats over.

The kids did well—they provided a lot of joy and entertainment for our fellow passengers. Caleb had fun sharing snacks with our neighbors, climbing on the bunks above our seats, and doing the various activities I had packed for the journey. When Susanna got the squirming bug, we would take her for a walk down the long narrow aisle. As she passed by each row, she exuded all the poise and confidence of a mini Miss America, replete with coy smiles and charm that could melt a stone’s heart.

But much of the time, we were all just content to look out the window at the passing country-side...

It really was mes-merizing. Man-made turned into nature as we watched the world flow slowly past...

Rice paddies etched neatly into the mountain-sides...

Crops arranged across the country like squares on a patchwork quilt, small villages and towns resting quietly in the valleys below...

Tombs of the gone-but-not-forgotten standing upright like sentries on the hillsides.

Finally after nine long but fairly smooth hours, we arrived in a small city only an hour away from our final destination. Dinner there was, well… quiet. We were the only patrons in a small restaurant with fairly good food: beef and onion stir-fry, something reminiscent of mashed potatoes, a broccoli and bacon dish, some mint soup (interesting!) and of course rice. Our ever-ready socialite, Caleb made himself at home with the owners as they watched an evening TV show.

Next on the docket was a taxi ride that rivals most coasters at Six Flags. Whooooaaa, doggie! Bumpy, jerky, swervy, jerky, REAAAALLLY bumpy – barely touches what it was like! Caleb got a front seat view and thought it was the coolest thing ever. The pavement ran out not far into the journey, and from there on I was white-knuckling it and holding onto Susanna for dear life! Somehow, though, she slept through the entire thing! (I suppose that her having no afternoon nap was to blame for the rather comatose state!).

We finally arrived in a cloud of dust at Jack’s old home place around 9 that night. And that’s when we found out that we were a SURPRISE! The phones there are unreliable and Jack hadn’t been able to get in touch with his mom, so well, there we were! We met his mom, sister, and niece (his step father and brother-in-law both work in a city about an hour away and only come home on weekends, if that), and they ushered us inside the courtyard and into their home. We brought our things in (and again felt awkward about our stuff!) and then sat in the small central bedroom where they turned on TV for us and brought us a tray of sunflower seeds and candy, some soup, and some rice and stir-fry. We were full from dinner and tried to politely refuse, but of course they insisted so we ate what we could. Conversation was minimal—they were busy getting the beds and rooms ready for us and preparing water for us to wash our face, feet, and hands (this is the common way of preparing for bedtime).

In spite of their courtesy and hospitality, I couldn’t help but feel completely awkward and out of place. Though we’d brought gifts for them which they seemed to really appreciate, I felt like an intruder with nothing at all to offer or contribute to their lives except extra hassle, worry and inconvenience. I’ve never felt such a strong desire to be small—tiny, so that I would not trouble and interrupt their world. I had no idea whose bed we were taking or whose room we were in. But they were so polite, arranging everything carefully, pulling out fresh bedding and making sure we had all we needed.

After we were ready for bed, Jack informed us of sleeping arrangements—David in one room, and the children and I in the next. We thought at first it was because they thought one room was too small for all of us and that we’d be more comfortable having two rooms. So we let Jack know that we’d be just fine in one room together—that was plenty for us. But Jack, embarrassed as he was, let us know that his mother was adamant about adhering to local custom, which doesn’t permit married couples who aren’t from the village to sleep in the same room together. Wow. Wasn’t expecting that one! I’d really been looking forward to some quiet and privacy—being able to go in the room, close our door, and have some small sense of normalcy with our little family all being together. But nope, wasn’t gonna happen. Oh well! What do you do? I guess I felt like our own privacy was a fairly small price to pay for disturbing theirs so completely. Sooo, we said goodnight and parted ways.

Thankfully the kids went right to sleep, and as I crawled into bed, totally exhausted, I couldn’t help but think… “Well, 1 down, 4 to go. And, it looks like this could be a very interesting 4 days...” =)

Stay tuned for the account of our first day in the village—Day 2: I will survive…