Our last couple of days in Vietnam had me feeling nostalgic about this wonderful country I’d only just scratched the surface of.

We spent our next to last day boating and tuk tuking around the islands of the Mekong Delta, whose name conjures up distant war related news stories of my youth. But it also made me wonder if the river would be like the Mississippi or Amazon, my only real experiences with tropical deltas. I wondered about the farmers whose lives were disrupted by Agent Orange. Nevertheless, life on the delta continues to thrive. We visited some coconut, cacao, and fruit farms. We had lunch under a grass roof while rain pelted down in sheets around us. We ate “elephant ear fish”, banana fritters, chicken, and spring rolls, feeding leftovers under the table to a couple of cute mama dogs. Just in time, the tropical storm ended and we were able to paddle down a swampy bayou. I felt for a moment like nothing else mattered and all was right in my world.

Our final day in Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City was mixed, as this was the end of the Vietnam portion of the journey and most of the Aussies were going elsewhere. I had become attached to them, even as the introvert in me longed for hotel room solitude and down time from overstimulation. They were my people, in a sense; fellow travelers whose curiosity about the world pushed them out of their comfort zones. That’s what I’m talking about!

But our last outing was bittersweet, as we spent it visiting the CuChi Vietcong tunnels, an experience as equally intense as the War Remnants Museum. We traipsed through the jungle looking for very narrow camouflaged entrances to the underground world of the guerrilla fighters, many torturous traps, and abandoned weaponry. A few of the bravest amongst us crawled into the tunnels—not an experience for those with anxiety, claustrophobia or breathing problems. I lasted about 5 minutes, just saying…

But perhaps the most disturbing part of the tour was a target practice shooting range that was located next to a gift and coffee shop. As you relaxed with your coffee, deafening sounds of gunfire surrounded you. I didn’t understand the significance or location of this shooting range. It only served to give me compassion for PTSD suffering veterans.