We all do it. We leave for Study Abroad with stars in our eyes. Off to see a new part of the world, learn a new way of life, see how it’s “better over there”. We are all told, and we all think, that Study Abroad will change our lives, and on some level, allow us to change the world. I fit that description perfectly. I packed off to Viet Nam determined that my life would be irreversibly changed and that I would finally start my mission to make the world a better place. I can say with certainty that I achieved these goals – but in ways quite different than I had expected.

I suppose I should backtrack a little and give some background on myself. I have resided in Knox County for all twenty-one years of my life. I called Centerburg home for ten, and then moved to Mount Vernon. Currently my family lives outside of town, going east, on a one lane dirt road where we raise a couple head of cattle. My current stint in Viet Nam (three and a half months) is the longest I have been away from home, and certainly the most foreign place I have ever visited. Naturally, when I left for Viet Nam I was bursting to leave Knox County. It frustrated me that I had never managed to get out and truly experience another part of the world, anywhere. Viet Nam seemed about as far from Knox County as you could get. So I suppose the stars in my eyes were two-fold. Not only was I out to change my life, I was out of Knox County.

As it turns out, Viet Nam and Knox County are not so different. Sure, there are a couple of intervening degrees of latitude, not to mention entirely different cultures. But the similarities are there. Take Can Tho, the city where I have spent most of my time in Viet Nam. In 2004 Can Tho became a national city. It takes a certain understanding of Vietnamese politics and development policy to grasp what this means. Suffice it to say that a push is being made to develop the city economically. Major thoroughfares are being constructed, an airport is being built, and hundreds of families are being relocated. The city has already grown significantly in terms of both size and population. My host sister, Thao, laments the number of trees that have been cut down. Referring to a new supermarket being constructed, she says, “Look, no more trees,” and shakes her head in sorrow.

If you don’t see the corollary to Knox County, read Max’s “Run of the Wolves”; development destroys communities the world over. Granted, the context of Can Tho’s development is quite different from Knox County’s, but the values involved are the same. It was about the time I drew this connection that I really fell in love with Viet Nam. Although I had been enthralled by this place from the moment I arrived, the first six weeks were also a little, well, frustrating. Everything seemed so alien, and to a certain extent I felt isolated. Can Tho’s development issues gave me a lens through which I could view my experiences in Viet Nam – a lens that is powerful because it is not entirely unfamiliar. I had spoken with a woman about how she and many other families in her village on the outskirts of Can Tho had sold their land for the construction of a highway. They would soon live in housing complexes that would be built on former farms in the area. Wasn’t farmland in Knox County being bought up and turned into housing developments? In a city known for its markets, abundant with fresh and local foods of all kinds, a fifth chain supermarket is opening. Wasn’t Mount Vernon being slowly smothered by chain development?

I’ll be the first to acknowledge the differing forces driving development in Can Tho versus Knox County. Knox County’s development is for the purpose of economic profiteering by private enterprise. Can Tho’s is fueled by the Vietnamese government in a desperate push to bring Viet Nam into the twenty-first century as a developed nation and world economic power. It’s at about this point that Viet Nam breaks my heart. I can see clearly what development will do to Can Tho. I can see just as clearly why it is being both pushed by the government and welcomed by the people.

My love of and passion for my adopted country are deep, and I would like nothing more than to place my magic, world-changing band-aid on all their problems. But the issue of development in Viet Nam is deep-rooted and complex, and as a foreigner I will never be able to fully understand and appreciate what is at stake here. Plus I don’t have a magic world-improving band-aid. My ability to help Viet Nam is limited to what I am doing right now, telling their story. That my friends, is a harsh and powerful reality to wake up to.

I love Knox County. Maybe I’m a little homesick, but I can almost picture it now. I keep getting emails about how green it is, how all the flowers are blooming. If I close my eyes I can imagine the smell of fresh cut grass and cow manure. The warm sunniness of things being planted. Walking into stores and seeing familiar faces. That feeling deep down inside that tells you you are home.

I love Viet Nam and I don’t want to leave. I have friends here; people and causes about which I am very passionate. I’ve learned so much, and I want to keep learning. But my desire to stay here doesn’t quite touch my joy at returning to Ohio. Unlike Viet Nam, Knox County doesn’t have to break my heart. It is my home and I can take an active stance in preserving and improving it. I intend to return with open arms, embracing the land and the community and giving it my full appreciation – an appreciation that includes actively seeking to improve this place, in whatever manner that may be.

As I lie here in my bed in a Can Tho guesthouse, listening to motorbike horns and eating a fresh tangerine, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. I left home intending to change my life and change the world. Well, task one down; my life has certainly changed. As for task two, I’ll start on that one as soon as I get home. All of the world has problems; the difference is there is no limit to what I can do about the ones in little ole Knox County.