Apodaca: Gaining a greater understanding of life beyond our borders

It’s always good to be back home in Newport Beach after a long trip. I return from travels abroad with deeper insight into other cultures and a renewed appreciation for my good fortune of being a United States citizen.

For the past few weeks I’ve been in Vietnam and Cambodia with my husband and two friends, a journey greeted by many of our acquaintances with either great interest or befuddlement by a few who wondered why on earth we’d want to go there.

As it happens, our vacation was enlightening, entertaining and at times heartbreaking. America’s historically troubled relationship with both Vietnam and Cambodia remains evident four decades after our military involvement there ceased; this relationship particularly resonates in Orange County, home to the largest Vietnamese community in the U.S.

From our arrival in the capital city of Hanoi in the north to Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, in the south, I was struck by signs that the nation is progressing toward a more market-based economy, even as communist leaders continue to hoard power.

Bustling marketplaces, fragrant from spices and cooking fish, traffic congestion and new construction point to increasing prosperity, and business people from Japan, the U.S. and Europe eagerly seek investment opportunities.

Motorbikes, the common mode of transportation, haul everything from whole families crammed onto one tiny vehicle, to piles of goods bound for market, to stacks of flat-screen televisions. One day in Sa Dec I did a double take at a large aquarium filled with fish strapped to the back end of a scooter.

Daunting problems remain, including a huge income disparity between the well-connected and the masses struggling to survive. Corruption, pollution, cronyism and a lack of institutional transparency are hallmarks of Vietnamese society.

Yet there are ubiquitous signs of hopefulness: Busy cafes, pretty girls laughing while posing for selfies and newlyweds jockeying for the most picturesque spots for their wedding photos.

One tour guide told us a harrowing tale of his attempted escape after the communist North took control in the South.

“I was a boat person,” he said, referring to those who embarked on dangerous journeys on overcrowded fishing boats not meant for long sea voyages.

His was intercepted by Soviets, who returned the vessel to Vietnam. He was sent to prison, but a relative with Viet Cong connections maneuvered his release.

Now married with two children, he seems reconciled to his life shepherding tourists, though he said almost wistfully, “I’d still like to go to the U.S. someday.”

If Vietnam challenged my intellect, Cambodia captured my heart. Referred to as “this sad little country” in the Academy Award-winning film “The Killing Fields,” Cambodia is still that in many ways.

The communist Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, wrecked horrors on Cambodia from 1975 to 1979, when 2 million people died from starvation, torture, disease or overwork as they were forced to abandon the cities during the regime’s attempt to engineer a classless, peasant society.

They took particularly vicious aim at so-called intellectuals — teachers, doctors, journalists, Buddhist monks — virtually anyone with an above-average education.

Though the Khmer Rouge was deposed by the Vietnamese and the country is now technically a constitutional monarchy, few from the bloody regime have faced justice, and many now hold positions of power in government.

It’s no wonder that Cambodia seems haunted. We visited former “Killing Fields,” where bones excavated from mass graves are displayed in tragic tribute, and toured one of the most notorious prisons where detainees were tortured and slain in unspeakable ways.

Even the magnificent temples for which Cambodia is famous have an air of despair. Restoration and upkeep are challenging, and these holy sites are spared no respite from the litter that blankets the entire country.

The largest city, Phnom Penh, is primitive by Western standards. If traffic is chaotic elsewhere, here it’s utter anarchy. I saw no street lights, not even signs to guide drivers.

At one point, our tuk-tuk driver, whose motorbike was held together with little more than tape and twist-ties, ran out of gas in the middle of a large, busy street.

He asked us to wait, then returned 10 minutes later with two small plastic bottles filled with petrol. After refilling his tank, he casually tossed the bottles onto the pavement.

But the resilient, everyday Cambodian people — the cheerful young woman who just wouldn’t give up trying to sell my friend a shirt, the humble farmer who uses every part of the crops he raises, the chatty teenage elephant handler who said he’d only begun learning English a few months earlier — are hard to resist.

One of our most memorable evenings was in Siem Reap, where we attended a “Cambodian circus,” which turned out to be a remarkable demonstration of acrobatics, music and storytelling by students from a performing arts school. These youngsters were so talented, hardworking and charming that the crowd cheered with unrestrained gusto.

After the performance, one troupe member encouraged the audience to come talk to them and take pictures.

“We’re not shy, at all!” he proclaimed and mentioned their desire to tour internationally.

I hope their dream comes true, and that Orange County is a stop on their journey, for they represent a spirit of optimism and industriousness that speaks to a more promising future.

PATRICE APODACA is a former Newport-Mesa public school parent and former Los Angeles Times staff writer. She lives in Newport Beach.