Floating slowly through the Mekong Delta, the air seemed thick with contradictions. On one hand, the humid breeze carried the pungent scent of rotting vegetation—sweet and sour all at once, heavy in the throat. On the other, it was mixed with the far more welcoming aroma of food cooking in the small riverside villages we drifted past. Sitting low in the wooden boat, I struck a match and lit my pipe, letting the smoke curl upward in an attempt to mask the less pleasant notes of the air.
As the flame caught, my mind wandered—as it often does—to history. I thought of the Vietnam War, of those images I’d grown up seeing, of the soldiers navigating these same waters under vastly different circumstances. It felt almost surreal. With enough signal on my phone, I decided to lean into the thought. I slipped in my earbuds and played “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane, letting the opening chords wash over me. In an instant, the Mekong was transformed—not literally, of course, but in my imagination. The calm tourist boat became a gunboat in the 1960s, rounding each bend with uncertainty, tension sharp in the air. My pipe smoke burned my eyes as the music reached its fevered height, and I laughed softly at myself, realizing how fortunate I was to only imagine such a scene rather than live it.
The spell broke as I leaned back into the present. The Mekong Delta revealed itself again for what it truly is: a living, breathing landscape of beauty. Plantations sprawled endlessly along the water’s edge, the greenery lush and untamed. We drifted past small stilted homes where families cooked their lunches, children played by the banks, and life moved at a pace the modern world so often forgets. The water mirrored the sky, carrying both reflections and stories, as if it had seen everything—war, peace, survival, and joy—and continued flowing regardless.
In that moment, I felt the odd mix of imagination, history, and gratitude blend into something unforgettable. The Mekong Delta wasn’t just a destination to tick off my bucket list—it was an experience layered with perspective, both real and imagined. And as the boat glided forward, I sat with my pipe, the music still humming in my ears, and thought about how beautiful it is to be alive, to witness these places not as a soldier in fear, but as a traveler in awe.
