Personal Narrative: Do Asians Eat Dogs

It’s been 16 hours and I really can’t feel my bottom anymore. I didn’t want to stand up and stretch because I hate when people stare at me. But, only 2 more hours left and I will start my adventure in my parent’s hometown, Vietnam. Usually people who travel to another country are excited to eat the different types of food but for me, I wasn’t one of those people. Instead I had the fear of potentially eating an animal that many people cared for. A dog. Being Asian, you will always get questions like, “Do Asians eat dog?” Being an innocent 10-year-old girl, my dream job at the time was becoming a Veterinarian, so hearing that made me feel sick to my stomach. I would reply to them in an annoyed tone, “You’re dumb, who would eat a poor dog?” “Do
My mom was sitting to the left of me and my dad was sitting next to her. “Hey Ba, have you ever tried dog or do people over in Vietnam eat dog?” I was expecting a straight “no” but my dad just laughed it off and brushed off my question. I was confused. Why do people always ask me this question? Can you imagine eating your own pet? Actually, let’s not think about that. I slowly became curious on how my cousins looked. I actually never met any of my family members before and I am curious on how they will react on Americans visiting them. You might wonder why I had all these weird thoughts but I was just a 10-year old girl. A bunch of things ran through my mind but I’ll stop it at there. We finally landed at the Tan Son Nhat International Airport. I don’t recall much on how it looked but it definitely wasn’t as nice looking as LAX. I anxiously followed my parents and helped grabbed the luggage. I felt drips of sweat running down my face and I began to feel sticky. The weather over here is bizarre. It was humid, gloomy, and rain started pouring out of nowhere. It was not the type of rain where you would want to run in. Suddenly, I hear a bunch of yelling. “HEY! HERE! HERE!” I didn’t quite understand what was going on because there were multiple of voices. Soon, I see a middle-aged man with glasses, wearing a white wrinkly dress shirt, only half of his buttons was buttoned, and some khaki colored shorts. He greeted my parents and then greeted my siblings and I. Who is this odd man and why was he smiling at us like he knows us? Yup, it was one of my uncles. You know in romantic movies, in every airport scene, there’s always that one person or a group of people holding a cute sign with your name on it? I was expecting to have one of those because I didn’t know what to expect and this was my first time at an airport. Wouldn’t that be cool though? But, of course it didn’t happen and I was a little disappointed.