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Old 09-02-2014, 05:39 AM   #1
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yağ yakıcı storesonik sports nutrition “Home sweet home”, Dad says to me as we step out onto the balcony. He tells me that I’ve been enrolled into Viet Duc, a renowned high school in Hanoi. I barely hear what he says next because I am distracted by the expression of joy on his face. It is clear that to my father he is home. Dad finishes talking and steps inside, still with a blissful smile on his face. I peer down at the street below, watching in fascination as hundreds of motorbikes and bikes wriggle pass each other in the morning traffic. This is my first trip back to Vietnam as a teenager. Each time I return, Vietnam itself doesn’t seem to have changed, but yet it still seems different to me. Perhaps that’s because I’ve changed. I spot a group of giggling school girls riding their bikes to school, their traditional white Vietnamese dresses fluttering beautifully in the wind. Nearby, some tourists are preparing to cross the street, kilo aldırıcı. though their terrified expressions make them look more like they are getting ready to enter a fighting field. I laugh, though slightly discomfited, by my closer resemblance to the foreigners than the Vietnamese girls.
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