After only getting 3 hours of sleep, I was still really excited to pick rice. When we got to the village, we realized that it would be a lot tougher than last year's EAP group. Last year, the dirt was completely dry but this time, it was straight up muddy. I didn't mind it too much though. It was like when you play with mud when you're little. When we first started, it was slightly difficult because a lot of the rice fields had fallen down due to a windy day. I also didn't understand what was the most efficient way to do it. But after doing it a couple of times, it wasn't so bad. It made me really think about all the god damn work that goes into making all the food that we ate. It reaffirmed my belief in needing to eat all the food on my plate because somewhere, someone made it for us and someone would gladly take our meal.
At the same time, it felt really problematic to be there. Once again, who are we to step into the lives of another and say when we want to leave it? Its such a privilege to step in and step out of something that people consider a life choice, a decision that they cannot always get out of. While I was cutting rice, I kept thinking to myself, "Oh, I could totally do this for the rest of my life" but could I really say that after only 2 hours of doing the job? I really am only saying that because I cannot understand the hardships of harvesting rice. I don't understand what it means to be them. I could only get a small glimpse of it. And for me, that's enough to appreciate and sit down, drink ruou, and enjoy life. But not enough to truly understand what it means to be a rice farmer.
Nonetheless, it was a great learning experience. I wouldn't be able to say that I have finally experienced "authentic" Vietnamese-ness (because, what is is "authentic" to begin with?) but I can say that I got to experience a PART of Vietnam. I got a chance to do something that even many Hanoians have not had the chance to do. So I'm thankful for that.
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