After the work event, I explored a bit of Washington, DC and saw a bit of Northern California. A bit of the east and a bit of the west.
In Washington, DC, I visited the Library of Congress, saw the Gutenberg Bible and the content of Abraham Lincoln’s pockets when he was shot and the exhibition about George Washington and King George III (for the 250th anniversary); went to the National Archives Museum, saw the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence; explored the National Air and Space Museum and saw many cool things including Neil Armstrong’s Apollo 11 Spacesuit and a space rock older than the Earth. Envious, aren’t you? It’s awesome—in the original sense of inspiring awe—to finally see these foundational documents after having grown up with American films and history.
That’s not all. I also had a burger at Lucky Buns, ate Vietnamese food at Eden Centre in Virginia (quails!), went to a few supermarkets (why is everything huge in America?), looked inside a Trader Joe’s (America is a strange place), and met a Twitter friend (Susan).
The contrast between that and my time in Northern California is fascinating, not only because of the differences between East and West Coast but also because my time in DC was (primarily) an American experience—going back to its foundation, seeing the documents that made the States the States—whereas my time in Northern California was (primarily) a Vietnamese American experience. I did see San Francisco (how could I not?)—the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge, de Young Museum and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art—but my visit was mostly to see my relatives—on both my mum’s side and my dad’s side—and experience Tết in San Jose. And what an experience that was. My first Tết in California. My first Tết with firecrackers. My time with Vietnamese people in California has made me realise I’m a very bad Vietnamese—I can only console myself that at least I still love mắm tôm and nước mắm, I have read Truyện Kiều and Cung oán ngâm khúc and Chinh phụ ngâm, I got an áo dài.
And I can’t help wondering what kind of person I would have become—how different I would have been—if I had stayed in Vietnam or moved to the US instead of Europe.
