Letter to Vietnam

​How is it that a country can feel like a person? I ask myself this every day since leaving, haunted by memories of blue skies and waters that, in their boundless beauty, seem almost too alive to belong only to this earth. It feels strange to write this to you—my time with you was brief, a mere chapter in what will be a long story. And yet, you have left your mark on me in a way that feels everlasting.

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I remember my first morning there. The sun, barely risen, cast a soft, warm glow across the world. It was a gentle light that made everything—every tree, every face—appear softer and kinder. As I walked along your shores, gazing out over the calm waters, I felt something inside me begin to relax, as though I had finally found a place where my heart could breathe freely. The sea stretched before me, vast and unending, mirroring the blue sky above. I felt as though I were standing between two worlds, both endless, both beautiful.

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But it wasn’t just the landscape, though that was breathtaking enough. It was the people—their smiles, their hospitality, their stories—that made me fall in love with you. Each person I met seemed to carry with them a piece of your soul, a quiet strength that could only come from a place that has known both hardship and joy. There was a warmth in their eyes, a kindness that felt as deep and expansive as the sea itself. I remember thinking, in one of those stolen moments, that I could stay forever among them, just learning, just being.

 

And oh… how I miss the evenings—the golden hours when the sun would sink low, painting the world in shades of amber and rose. The way the sky would deepen, the way the breeze would pick up, carrying with it the faintest scent of salt and flowers, like a whispered promise of beauty and peace. It was then that I felt most at home, as if the very air were embracing me, as if the land itself were saying: Stay a little longer. See a little more.

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And how I wish I could. I wish I could walk again along the shores, gazing out over the blue that stretches infinitely. I long to sit under that sky, to watch it transform, to feel the quiet peace of knowing that I am a part of something so much greater than myself.

 

My dearest Vietnam, I don’t know when I’ll see you again. But know that wherever I go, I carry your skies, your seas, and your people with me. They are woven into my heart, now and forever. Until the day I can return, I will live with the memory of your beauty as my constant companion, like a love that I can never forget.

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And to my beloved Philippines—my home, my foundation—thank you. It was through your nurture, your people, and your boundless spirit that I was given the chance to step out into the world, to embrace another place so fully and openly. Without the love and courage I carry from you, I would not have known how to fall in love with Vietnam as I have. To both these countries, I owe a gratitude too profound for words, for together, you have shown me what it means to feel at home in more than one place, to be bound not by borders, but by the heart.

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Forever and always,

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Karl