I visited Vietnam after my first year of college in 2012, the first time since my parents and I immigrated in 1999. I had no what idea to expect from this family visit because I was so far removed from this part of myself. I grew up in the states and my knowledge of the Vietnamese was minimal. Throughout middle and high school, there were many moments when I felt uncomfortable and frustrated while speaking to my parents or grandparents in Vietnamese. I couldn’t find the right words to express myself even in the simplest of conversations. To be honest, so I wasn’t looking forward to taking the trip in 2012; I despised the idea of not being able to speak to my uncles and aunts. Throughout the trip I leaned on my English-speaking cousins (who also moved to the United States a bit after I did), I spoke to them throughout the visit because I was embarrassed to use my native language with extended family. I left Vietnam after those two weeks of near silence without any expectations of returning. Not being able to communicate was unbearable and flights are extremely costly.

Almost three years later, I find myself on another two-week trip to Vietnam. This time independent of family, a class trip centered on Vietnamese memory of the American conflict in Vietnam. Even though this trip had different purposes, I faced the same insecurities regarding language. How would I respond when people asked me questions or spoke to me in Vietnamese? Easy. Probably by fumbling a lot, grasping for the right words, using a lot of body language and praying that the person knew what I was saying. In Saigon, people didn’t understand most of the words I put together, while in Hanoi they called me out for being a foreigner with a Southern Vietnamese accent. It was tough. But I persisted because people in both cities were patient; they smiled, laughed and repeated themselves many times so that I could try to understand. These “conversations” were bittersweet, I was still frustrated at the lack of comprehension, but I learned a new word or two after each engagement. The mental barrier that I built throughout much of my life began loosening up by the end of the first week. I was beginning to accept my limited Vietnamese and work on it for the rest the trip.

I found great joy listening to people and reading street signs while walking through the cities. Slowly, I pieced letters and tones together to make words. Most of the time, I didn’t know what anything meant but I was thrilled whenever I recognized a word or phrase that I used when speaking with my parents. Back in the states my only exposure to Vietnamese was verbal. So being able to read these words was a monumental step in relearning. All these years I’ve been afraid to work on Vietnamese; I was waiting for chances to fully immerse myself in the language and culture so that the Vietnamese that I knew as a kid would magically spill out. Clearly this was the wrong approach.

After getting back from Vietnam on Sunday, I called my mother and the words flew out. I was able to speak about my trip to Vietnam, what cities I visited, what foods I ate with little hesitation. My Vietnamese had gotten better after spending two weeks in Vietnam, even though it didn’t seem like it at the time. Being in Vietnam was uncomfortable because of my relationship with the language but words cannot express how grateful I am to have the chance to go back and rediscover my culture and roots. After two weeks, I’ve gotten a little better at reading basic vocabulary and exchange pleasantries, but I hope to work on Vietnamese so that I can better understand Vietnamese history, my family and myself as a Vietnamese American/immigrant in the United States.