Homemade is where the heart is

I mailed a package from Hue, Vietnam to Palm Springs, California. I was told the package would travel by sea and take about 30 days to arrive.

That was three months ago.

I’m sure my package was tucked away in the bowels of a ship somewhere until today, when it showed up in my mailbox. The box is battered and bruised, completely soaked with the stench of petroleum, but it’s here — and I’m thrilled.

The contents included a suit, a coat and a dress I had made by tailors. A photograph for my sister. Three pairs of earrings carved out of coconut shells for my nieces. A gift for my mother-in-law.

Basically, every single thing in that package was made by hand. And that’s one of the things I loved most about traveling — seeing artisans at work.

I know we have craftsmen in the U.S., but unfortunately, I feel like it’s more of an effort to find them here. We relegate our artisans to gallery walks, weekend shows in parking lots, special markets, etsy.com. We don’t honor them as much as hide them.

In other countries, however, the integration is seamless. Art is woven into the fabric of daily life, found everywhere in everything. It is as common as rice and as essential as breathing.

A lot of that is born out of necessity, of course. If somebody doesn’t make something by hand, then you don’t have it. It’s that simple.

Need sandals in Uganda? Almost everybody in Mbale turns to these guys, who will fashion a pair for you out of old, busted tires.

 

Doing dumplings for dinner? These women in Hoi An make a special kind of dumpling called White Rose, which are stuffed and folded by hand in homemade dough. When steamed, they blossom like flowers.

 

Having noodles in Hanoi? This lady will knead, pull and slice them for you.

 

And that brings me to my favorite thing that arrived in the mail today — that gift for my mother-in-law.

I found this man in an alley in Vietnam, and I was blown away by his confident, decisive work. All day long he sits on the floor in a stuffy, cramped space, and he carves stamps out of wood.

 

A lot of his work is done for businesses or professionals, who use them to personalize stationery with a logo or signature. The other stamps he makes are just for fun. Art for the sake of art.

 

I thought about this man for two days straight, still marveling over his intricate work, until I decided I would regret it if I didn’t return. I wandered around the labyrinth of alleyways, got lost, asked strangers for help, frantically pantomimed somebody carving stamps and somehow found him again.

Then I gave him my mother-in-law’s name and 10 minutes.

 

With swift hands, this is what he created.

 

Simple. Beautiful. Perfect.

And three months later, that piece of art made its way across the ocean and managed to find me again too.