And I am missing home stuff.  After a month and six days, I will allow myself such feelings.  Mostly missing is of three varieties: First, I miss Cheshire, Justin and Wilbur, and being a small part of their lives.  Pictures of Wilbur attests to six weeks of him growing.  Even at home, I don’t have an independent relationship with Wilbur—yes, he is one—and so it follows that so far away feels like I will be a stranger when I return.  Or at least, I believe so right now.

Yes, a bit of self-pity. Even during high adventuring.

Second, I miss my church community.  I get the emails!  The list serv with announcements.  A few weeks ago, I felt like I was keeping up with the goings on.  Now, I feel cut off and missing—the Ferry Beach weekend, a special choir concert, the early November Music Sunday music, the 175^th birthday of the church lunch.  And lastly, I miss my HILR community—course work, lunches, special concerts and lectures.  I am grateful and happy that I’ve kept up with the one zoom class that I have—those late night class meetings have been an interesting comfort.

And then there is DDS and the state of programming that Julia will have when we return.  As of now, we will come back after 6 weeks away no closer to something for Julia than when we left.  Since June, I’ve been working to set up a part-time Participant Directed Program (PDP) for her as well as looking for a full-time CBDS for her. Trying to submit employee applications for PDP before we left doesn’t appear to have been successful. I fully submitted one employee packet before I left; however, checking with our DDS support broker, Kevin, last week via email, he reported not hearing from the processing agency.  Another possible employee could never get an email through to Kevin to have him send her a packet.  I will renew my efforts when I return but my ambitious June plans have bit the dust.

I sent another round of queries to programs about two weeks ago without much results. I have an appointment with VinFen’s Day Habilitation program’s behavioral specialist when I return. I had spoken with the program’s director during the summer and it was decided that Julia did not need all the supports that the program offers and so it was not a good placement for her.  However, in view of the fact that Julia has been rejected by a number of CBDS programs because of her lack of independence, behavior, anxiety, etc., I felt the need to revisit the idea to see if she could fit in to a program with very modest goals.  I hate returning her to Elliot House with the availability of full time internet and no programming for her at all.

And so, mentally and spiritually, this is where I sit this morning.  

And where I physically sit is gorgeous!  Hoi An. 

We arrived in Hoi An in the middle of the afternoon on Monday. It was raining. We checked into our hotel—La Charm Hoi An Spa and Hotel–unpacked and surveyed our possibilities.  Hoi An is a city of lanterns.  A very pretty tourist town where lanterns are hung everywhere including on the little boats that ply the river the flows through the city. By comparison to Ha Noi, it is a Disney version of Viet Nam.  Everything made pretty for tourists.

On Monday afternoon, we walked around the old quarter and found somewhere for lunch and it was still raining.  We took a nap and the sun went down.  And the rain stopped.  We strolled the wet city streets some more with crowds who pretty obviously were happy to put down their umbrellas.

All the lights and shops were enchanting, although it is necessary to avoid and/or say no to the plethora of people trying to lure walkers into shops to buy souvenirs, their next meal, massages and other personal services.  

Boats for 3 or 4 passengers piloted like Venice’s gondolas or larger motorized boats plied the river.  All of the boats are festooned with lanterns and twinkle lights. Passengers buy small boxes with candles that they released into the water—the candles twinkling as they rush along with the current.  Bridges are lit, balconies of restaurants and cafes are lit.  

It was lovely and so very nice to just take it in as introduction.

We woke up on Tuesday to heavy rain and, in good pivot fashion, we decided to buy some bespoke clothing.  Julia wanted a kimono that we never found in Tokyo.  I wanted them to copy my favorite summer shirt that is just about worn out and make a few pairs of linen summer pants.  Ed also wanted shirts and pants.  In a very short time, we ran up a substantial bill—yes, much less than at home, but my cheap self is just a bit appalled that I indulged myself so much.  I am hoping and praying that Julia’s kimono will please her.  She has been very grumpy not finding more of what she wanted in Tokyo—Japanese clothes and a boyfriend. There is no shop to fulfill the boyfriend desire.

Then we went to a lantern making class and for three hours learned how to make pretty bamboo and clothe lanterns.  Julia and I have learned fresco making in Florence, pizza making in Montepulciano and making making in Venice.  Of course, we learned lantern making in Hoi An.

And I will say, we gained a good deal of respect for the lantern makers!

The rain continued, at times it beat on the roof of the workshop so intensely that hearing anyone was impossible.  Getting back to the hotel, in fact, getting around during the day yesterday, we took cabs.  Twenty minutes walks became eight minutes cab rides and we did not get as wet as we would have had we walked.  Of course, we’ve been so proud of the number of steps we’ve done each day—yesterday, not as many steps.

In the evening, we went to see Teh Dar at the Lune Center, a huge bamboo dome. Part dance, part circus, part acrobatics and purportedly based on ancient tribal life in the South West Highlands of Viet Nam.  Everything was interesting and entertaining.  I don’t know how authentic it was but no matter— what we saw was a wonderful feat of choreography and physical skill.  Not to mention, a thousand ways to use a bamboo pole that you never imagined.

By the time the performance ended, the rain had let up some and the streets of the city were filling up.  Umbrella and rain ponchos of every color and variety dotted the streets and there were fewer boat on the river.

Oh, the river was swollen, flooding the streets on one side and right up to the top of the bank on the other side.  The boats, which are usually a step down form the bank, were even with the sidewalks and looked eerily as if they would be joining us on our walk reminding me of the flood scene in Ponyo.

The locals who are sewing our bespoke clothes told us that this was regular rainy season weather and that the swollen river banks were normal.  They were not worried about flooding in the least.  I note that their store is a good 4 tall steps above the sidewalk.

We strolled in the rain, stopping for pancakes with gelato on top as our late supper before walking home and getting to bed a bit earlier than usual.

Today, Wednesday is a planned lazy day.  I’m tapping away, Julia is buried in her tablet (we are again dealing with over use.) and Ed is getting a hair cut.  The rain has temporarily abated, the cloud remain.  The hotel pool has opened and Julia and Ed put the gym to good use. I may try to get Julia to take a dip when I finish this.

We will walk today, have a fitting for our clothes and perhaps investigate all the street food that line the bigger streets. I am still looking for the perfect tee shirt for Wilbur and I might just find a lantern to replace the chandelier in my hall.

In sum, even in this pretty somewhat ersatz holiday world, there are bumps. Writing reminds me that this is always so and I am susceptible to frustration, sadness, homesickness, etc., even when I am doing exactly what I want to do. Ah, the duality.