It's taken me a few days to come to terms with this reality. For the past few years I've prided myself on having such a superb immune system that I could hardly remember the last time I could justifiably be considered ill. In fact, the last time I got really sick was my second year of university. Vietnam just doesn't seem to care about my disease-free track record.
It's nothing major. Sore throat, head ache, stuffy nose and ears, achy body, and all around feeling like shit. Probably just the head cold that's going around our group. And a few days of denying it and carrying on at full speed hasn't benefited me any. I crashed today. I didn't even stay at work all day. I came home and slept for four hours. I felt bad for leaving (especially since several others were out sick this morning) but we're leaving for Dien Bien Phu tomorrow morning and I really dont want to be sick for this trip. Unfortunately I still feel terrible, despite my day off. I can't hear, I can't smell, and I'm starting to look like Rudolph. No Puffs with Lotion here, folks. And I'm sure the guys smoking at the table beside me aren't helping any, either.
It's been a pretty busy week (or course), even with several of us not feeling well. Monday was Meredith's birthday, and we out for dinner at a vegetarian restaurant (which also houses a travel agency) called Tamarind Cafe. During dinner Thuy broke out her fortune-telling instincts and foretold the following using a napkin, my ring, and strand of my hair: That Sam and I would have a "gap" during my year here, that we'd probably work it out, that we actually have an 80% chance of getting married, and that my first child will definitely be a boy. Not exactly the fortune I was hoping for--I don't want a gap, I'm not sure if I even want to get married, and I don't want a son--but luckily I dont have much faith in those sorts of things.
On Wednesday, our Vietnamese teacher Thuy took me, Meghan, Jahmila and Meredith to get our nails done. Not exactly a salon--in fact, I've seen bigger walk-in closets--but the experience was relaxing nonetheless. And very authentic, to be sitting in a Vietnamese nail place listening to all the women chat. Nail fashion here is much more elaborate than in the States, and I just decided to go with it... I walked out with pink toenails with little white flowers, and a blingin' "french" manicure with silver glitter. (I did not ask for the glitter--I don't do sparkle--but oh well.) All of this cost me about $3.63. And--yes, it gets better--Thuy gave me a ride home on her motorbike. My first moto ride in Vietnam! I was wearing a skirt, though, and since I didn't want to ride side-saddle my first time, I ended up showing a bit more leg than is appropriate around here. One guy riding by even winked at me. It seemed good-hearted, and since it was the first flirtation I've received since being here, I didn't get offended and just smiled. I mean, I did look pretty ridiculous.
Yesterday (Thursday) was David's birthday. Thuy arranged for us to go to a restaurant/kareoke bar called Luxor, a surprisingly elegant restaurant that would fit right in in NYC, if not for the equally surprising inexpensive menu. After Luxor kicked us out of their kareoke room, David insisted that we move on to another venue. Hiep (the son of the hotel owners) obliged and took us to another place he knew. I should have just gone home, but still insisting that I wasn't sick, I decided to stay out. It seems I'm still paying for that poor decision.
Being sick in Viet Nam isn't my preferred condition. Another low point. On top of that, no one informed me that the group was meeting for dinner at the one restaurant I really wanted to go to while I was in Hanoi, a little Italian place over the by the lake. Again, vomit. Luckily I have no qualms eating alone, so I'll just go next week by myself.
We're leaving the hotel at 7:25 tomorrow morning. I want to be excited about this trip but at the moment I'm feeling discouraged.
My one shining moment of the day was taking a xe om, or a motorbike taxi, home from the university. Confident from my last moto ride with Thuy, I was finally feeling willing to take a xe om. I walked up to one outside the university gates. He asked me in Vietnamese where I wanted to go (which I understood). I replied "khack san Quan Hao" (the name of the hotel). He understood me, and said "Hai muoi nghin". I accepted his price of twenty thousand dong ($1.20), not feeling up for haggling, and pleased with myself that I had just negotiated a xe om trip in Vietnamese, without either person having to repeat anything. We understood each other, and I didn't even have to put much thought into translating in my mind what I needed to say or what he was saying to me. This was an extra boost to my minor linguistic accomplishment last night: At at the second kareoke place, David needed to use the restroom. Someone tried to say "bathroom" but the guy working just didn't understand. Finally I just blurted out, "Lam on, cho toi hoi nha ve sinh o dau a?" (Exuse me, could you please tell me where the bathroom is?) A complete sentence, with enough tonal accuracy to be understood the first time around. I didn't even know i had it in me! But it felt so good to just say what I wanted, be understood, and get a response I could understand. Yes, this language might be possible, after all.
I also managed yesterday to book my flight to Nha Trang for next Sunday afternoon. The ticket itself was only $47, which seemed shockingly low. With another $16 dollars in excess baggage fees, plus taxes, the whole thing was only $80. So cheap! The embassy travel agent quoted me a price that was about 50 dollars more expensive, not even including extra baggage fees, so I'm glad I took it upon myself to find a flight. I just can't believe that I've been here for three weeks, and that I only have one week left in Hanoi.
In the process of booking my flight, I found out about a bus system that runs through the country and caters mainly to foreigners. For somewhere between 8 and 20 dollars, depending on distance and what kind of seat you (soft seat or sleeper) you can take the bus anywhere in the country. An overnight bus ride for 15 dollars sounds incredible. At least I know how I'll be traveling around Vietnam!
And for the daily Stalking Sam Update, check out this Folds interview with Rolling Stone, about the upcoming album and the leaked "fake" album, which includes two songs written by Sam. One of his two songs already has a cover-version on youtube:
(These songs were supposed to be ridiculous.)
And here's another youtube cover of "You Don't Know Me", one of the singles from the upcoming album:
I'm off to the market to stock up on bottled water and pocket tissues for our excursion...Wish me luck.
22 August 2008
18 August 2008
Changes
The start of the third week has been a bit unsettling, bringing several drastic changes to the routine I (and the whole group) had grown accustomed to.
Vietnamese lessons have been cut to an hour and a half a day. This is a disappointing shift for me, since I love language lessons, and since I feel like we just need more language instruction. The cut in language lessons has also meant a reduction in the amount of time we spend with our main Vietnamese teacher, Thuy, who we've all come to love. In place of language lessons and Thuy are methodology lessons and Helen. The former are needed and the latter is kind and knowledeable. It's just a big jump from all day language, which is interactive, to all day methodology, with isn't so interactive. Our days are much more rigid and structured now, whereas with Thuy, we might take a longer "break" but during that time talk about cultural differences or more tangential grammar and vocab. We also now have homework, which is fine, I guess, since I was studying language at night anyway. But our lunch break has also been cut (well, it's still an hour and a half but it had been 2 hours) and our breaks have been shortened, as well.
Furthermore, our daily visits from the legendary Dr. Thao and his seemingly magical assistant, Ha, seem to have ended. Ha's boss, Hong, has returned from vacation and Ha is surrendering her oversight of us. Dr. Thao practically made a goodbye speech to us today. I think we'll still see him around, but I don't think he'll be popping in for our daily 3:00 break anymore. As his visits with Ha were a highlight of my day, I'm feeling a bit bummed by their sudden ending.
Aaand, the little spider that I got used to seeing hover in the corner of bathroom was gone today.
I (we) will get used to the new routine and people, of course. But I think I was just grasping to the bit consistency provided (in an otherwise inconsistent new life in Viet Nam) by a regular schedule, conducted in a stable atmosphere, with the same people.
To be fair, though, it's not just me who's been effected by the changes: The shortened lunch break also seems to have thrown off whatever elf mysteriously replaces our fruit while we're out form 12 - 2, as today she (turns out the elf is a Vietnamese woman) came in during class to cut up some unknown, giant grapefruit-like fruit. Whatever it was, it was delicious and lifted my spirits a bit.
I guess today is a low point, but it's still not that that low. Just requires some readjusting.
Plus, I've been missing a few things a little more than normal. For example, I had a dream two nights ago about buying baby spinach at Kroger. I've also had a dream about my favorite winter boots--I'm a winter girl and I miss cold weather and fall/winter clothes. In general I've just been having a bit of trouble sleeping. Last week I woke myself up yelling from a nightmare, and this morning I woke up with my fists clinched so tightly that my palms were covered in thin, red semicircles from my fingernails digging into my skin. I also remember taking out my right earring in a middle-of-the-night frenzy, although I can't recall why I did it....
Tonight will be better, though. It's Meredith's birthday today, and we're going out to a great (and coincidentally vegetarian restaurant) called Tamarind Cafe. Thuy, our language teacher, is actually joining us. (Hopefully she's not bringing any more of the dried squid that she brought us today in class, though!)
And then there's this video: the boys performing on "Musik Berger", the taping of which I was lucky enough to be present for. Brings back fond memories of what was only, like, 6 weeks ago.
Since they're not touring at the moment, I've had little to stalk on youtube, so this is an uplifting find....
I'm sure everything will settle into its "new normal" soon enough. Well, just soon enough for me to have to make a new transition to Nha Trang :).
Vietnamese lessons have been cut to an hour and a half a day. This is a disappointing shift for me, since I love language lessons, and since I feel like we just need more language instruction. The cut in language lessons has also meant a reduction in the amount of time we spend with our main Vietnamese teacher, Thuy, who we've all come to love. In place of language lessons and Thuy are methodology lessons and Helen. The former are needed and the latter is kind and knowledeable. It's just a big jump from all day language, which is interactive, to all day methodology, with isn't so interactive. Our days are much more rigid and structured now, whereas with Thuy, we might take a longer "break" but during that time talk about cultural differences or more tangential grammar and vocab. We also now have homework, which is fine, I guess, since I was studying language at night anyway. But our lunch break has also been cut (well, it's still an hour and a half but it had been 2 hours) and our breaks have been shortened, as well.
Furthermore, our daily visits from the legendary Dr. Thao and his seemingly magical assistant, Ha, seem to have ended. Ha's boss, Hong, has returned from vacation and Ha is surrendering her oversight of us. Dr. Thao practically made a goodbye speech to us today. I think we'll still see him around, but I don't think he'll be popping in for our daily 3:00 break anymore. As his visits with Ha were a highlight of my day, I'm feeling a bit bummed by their sudden ending.
Aaand, the little spider that I got used to seeing hover in the corner of bathroom was gone today.
I (we) will get used to the new routine and people, of course. But I think I was just grasping to the bit consistency provided (in an otherwise inconsistent new life in Viet Nam) by a regular schedule, conducted in a stable atmosphere, with the same people.
To be fair, though, it's not just me who's been effected by the changes: The shortened lunch break also seems to have thrown off whatever elf mysteriously replaces our fruit while we're out form 12 - 2, as today she (turns out the elf is a Vietnamese woman) came in during class to cut up some unknown, giant grapefruit-like fruit. Whatever it was, it was delicious and lifted my spirits a bit.
I guess today is a low point, but it's still not that that low. Just requires some readjusting.
Plus, I've been missing a few things a little more than normal. For example, I had a dream two nights ago about buying baby spinach at Kroger. I've also had a dream about my favorite winter boots--I'm a winter girl and I miss cold weather and fall/winter clothes. In general I've just been having a bit of trouble sleeping. Last week I woke myself up yelling from a nightmare, and this morning I woke up with my fists clinched so tightly that my palms were covered in thin, red semicircles from my fingernails digging into my skin. I also remember taking out my right earring in a middle-of-the-night frenzy, although I can't recall why I did it....
Tonight will be better, though. It's Meredith's birthday today, and we're going out to a great (and coincidentally vegetarian restaurant) called Tamarind Cafe. Thuy, our language teacher, is actually joining us. (Hopefully she's not bringing any more of the dried squid that she brought us today in class, though!)
And then there's this video: the boys performing on "Musik Berger", the taping of which I was lucky enough to be present for. Brings back fond memories of what was only, like, 6 weeks ago.
Since they're not touring at the moment, I've had little to stalk on youtube, so this is an uplifting find....
I'm sure everything will settle into its "new normal" soon enough. Well, just soon enough for me to have to make a new transition to Nha Trang :).
17 August 2008
Week Two.
Not surprisingly, I’ve had another wonderful week in Hanoi. My time here is passing so quickly, and I can’t believe that I’m already half-way through my month here. I love being in Hanoi—despite the heat, humidity, and poor air quality. My impending departure from this city feels strangely like the time leading up to my leaving the US two weeks ago. I feel like I’ve been in Hanoi forever, and my memories of the US come back to me like flashes from pleasant dreams….
The week has been busy. Work/orientation from 8-5 everyday leaves little time in the evenings for activities, especially when leaving our cozy little distrist (called Cau Giay) requires waiting variable amounts of time for the bus. Nevertheless, nearly every night we’ve managed to at least go out for dinner somewhere. On Monday evening, Meghan, Kevin, David, Jahmila and I left immediately after orientation to go over to the Old Quarter/Hoan Kiem Lake area of town, to eat dinner and see a water puppet show. (We’d planned to see a water puppet show last week but dinner took too long.) The four of us had dinner at a little place called Little Hanoi. It looks quite French from the outside—even offering a walk-up counter to grab a sandwich or something—and has delicious food. My favorite is the cheese veggie, with gouda, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, and cucumber on a fresh baguette…. It’s a bit pricey by Vietnamese standards, but its reliably fresh, tasty food and speedy service makes the $5-8 worth the expense.
Between dinner and the water puppet show, I discovered something that improved my quality of life immensely: Bubble tea. In Nashville, I had bubble tea almost every day, leading me to christen this summer “My Summer of Bubble Tea”. (Last summer was “My Summer of John Mayer and HGTV”, and the summer before, “My Summer of Ice Cream”.) I’d assumed that bubble tea would be everywhere here, but the first week passed without a single cup of milk tea and tapioca. I was getting bummed, especially since I’d seen empty bubble tea cups on the street. I became determined to find some—it became a sense of purpose. And that night, after my cheese veggie sandwich at Little Hanoi, I spotted a young girl sipping bubble tea. I was ecstatic! I her asked in happy, broken Vietnamese where I could find some, and she pointed to the store I was standing beside. Yes, I was standing right beside it. With a deep sense of relief, I walked up to the counter, ordered a “large” taro bubble tea, handed over the 18,000 dong (about $1.09, and the same thing would cost $4 at home) and walked away feeling rejuvenated. Mission accomplished. I spent the next hour before the water puppets show wandering by myself—I needed some alone time--through the twisting streets of the Old Quarter. It was one of my favorite moments since I’ve been here. The area is beautiful at night, full of locals selling various wares and Western tourists deciding between them, and with my comforting cup of bubble tea, I felt confident and happy as I strolled along and dodged motorbikes.
(In fact, I was especially careful of motorbikes that night, because earlier that evening I’d been lightly hit by one. The guy was going the wrong way down a one-way street. I forget sometimes that traffic rules here are virtually non-existent, regardless of whatever the signs say, and I just didn’t look the other way. Luckily he slammed on his breaks and just kind of rolled up on my left ankle a bit. It didn’t hurt much and provided me with a good lesson in looking both ways before crossing a one-way street.)
The water puppet show was lovely, offering us 17 little skits about various rituals, customs, and legends. And for 40,000 dong (about $2.50), it was well worth it. Here’s a video I found on youtube:
Starting on Wednesday, we’ve had language lessons all day, every day. Of course, I love it. I can think of few things I love more than learning a new language. The lessons have been a little disorganized at times, and I would benefit from a textbook or something, but I’m learning. I’m anxious to know much, much more, though. I remember a part in the book Eat, Pray, Love where Elizabeth Gilbert, the author, is learning Italian. She says that she yearned for the language to magically take up residence in her. I have the same desire—for this language to be fully functional in my mind. It’s frustrating to not be able to read 99% of things I see, or communicate with people efficiently, or express my thoughts. And I hate being “that American” who doesn’t speak the language. But at this point, I can ask directions, tell time, construct choppy, often incorrect sentences, tell my waiter that I’m a vegetarian and want my noodles without meat. I even gave directions in Vietnamese to my taxi driver the other night, and today I haggled to knock a few thousand dong off the price of a vase I wanted. I’m a long way from saying that I can truly speak Vietnamese, but at least it doesn’t sound like gibberish anymore. When people speak, I generally have no idea what they’re saying, but I can distinguish individual words in the mix. It’s comforting to feel that maybe, possibly, perhaps, somehow one day in the future I might be able to have a normal conversation in this language.
One night this week we also ventured into KFC. Yes, KFC. I ended up eating French fries, mashed potatoes in a soup of gravy, and iceberg lettuce with no dressing. Not very tasty, and definitely overpriced. But it was worth a fairly comical incident. I needed to use the restroom, and I was directed to the third floor bathroom. When I got up there I couldn’t open the door to the girls’ room. I pulled, and pushed, and wiggled the handle in vain. Finally I decided to just use the boys’ room. No one was up on the third floor and I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem, despite the fact that there were 2 urinals in addition to the one stall I was using. Wrong. Right after I sat down, I heard the door to the bathroom open and a guy walk in. I tried to see if it was a fellow Fulbrighter, but I couldn’t tell. There I was, stuck in a stall in men’s bathroom in a KFC in Hanoi, Vietnam. I hoped maybe the guy wouldn’t know I was there, but it would have been easy for him to figure me out with my cute white sandals and pink toe nails. After a few minutes, he left, and after waiting what I thought was enough time to let him safely return downstairs, I tried to sneak out undiscovered. Failed. He was out in the hall, washing his hands. He looked surprised to see me walk out of the men’s bathroom he was just in, so I flashed a smile, waved innocently and ran down the stairs, hoping that he’d write me off as a confused tourist.
Thursday nights are English Club. From 7:30 to 9 or so. Between orientation and English club, we have to find something to occupy our time. Last week we walked to a big coffee shop several blocks away (which was pretty miserable as it was raining heavily). This week though, we made our way to BIG C supermarket. Think Vietnamese Walmart on the 2nd floor with a nice pizza hut, Legends Beer hall, Highlands Coffee (aka Starbucks of Vietnam) and an expensive mall on the first floor. We’d heard that the Pizza Hut tasted a lot like the stuff at home, which was an exciting prospect when nothing else tastes quite like you expect it to. And to our pleasant surprise, we found the pizza hut rumor to be correct. Hot, cheesy, greasy slices of home served to us in the nicest Pizza Hut I’ve ever seen. After eating we all went up to the Big C, but several of us didn’t go in because we had to check our bags—which had our computers inside. We waited in Highlands coffee, where I enjoyed a cold Mango smoothie before heading back to campus for English Club.
The club is run by an American girl named Kristin, who’s a volunteer teacher at the university this summer. She’s wonderful. Earlier that day she met us for lunch, took us to one of her favorite places near campus, and then introduced us to a tasty drink made with sticky rice, sweetened condensed milk, yogurt and crushed ice. She’s been leading the club all summer, and apparently doing a great job. About 25 to 30 students, ranging in age from 13 to 30, show up to practice their English every Thursday night. Apparently the university had to work very hard for us to be “permitted” to go to the English club, and we feel honored to be invited. Last week we just broke up into groups and talked with the students. This week, though, we played the game Mafia. (Any Transy grads reading should know what I’m talking about.) It’s a group game involving accusations, defenses, sheriffs and “murders” of townspeople by the local mafia. I would have never thought to use it as a teaching tool, but it’s really a great idea. It forces the students to make arguments and creative stories. Unfortunately I was the first townsperson to be “killed” largely thanks to (from what I hear) the shy little Vietnamese girl I befriended and who was sitting beside me. I had to sit out the rest of the game, but that I got to see who was who in the game, and I got to chat with the other “ghosts.” And, I got to observe Kristin’s teaching methods, which will no doubt be helpful to me in a few weeks.
This weekend has been pretty exciting, too. After work on Friday, we met Dr. Thao and another guy from Fulbright for dinner and beer. As a reminder, Dr. Thao is the god-like director of Fulbright, and the guy who excellently recommended that we go to Legends Beer to drink and watch the opening Olympic ceremony last week. It was also his idea that we all go out for bia. He took us to a more “authentic” place, where everyday people go to drink. Apparently Legends is a bit expensive for the average pocketbook. The place was incredible, almost a big tiki hut, with giant fans that spritzed out water. We ordered a round of beer and several dishes for all of us to share. Soon we were also joined by one of our Vietnamese teachers, Thuy, who’s young, spunky, and keeps us all laughing. (She had also eaten lunch with us that day, during which time she “read our faces” and gave the boys advice on dating Vietnamese women. She reminds me of Tinkerbell from the Peter Pan movie—tiny, adorable, wide-eyed, feisty, sometimes a bit abrasive and always hard to control. She’s quite a pistol.) I don’t like beer, but I dutifully drank the one given to me and actually enjoyed it to some extent. It’s called “bia hoi”, a local draught that brewed daily is only served the day it’s made. It was tolerable as far as beers go—everyone else seemed to love it—but I nevertheless switched to Coke after one glass.
The evening passed with a pleasant breeze, great company and lots of laughing at my end of the table. At the other end of the table, though, where Dr. Thao had relocated half-way through the night, was quite somber. I heard the next day (over brunch at Little Hanoi) that Dr. Thao had been telling them stories of his time during the war. David recounted them to me. I won’t repeat them here—I couldn’t do them justice, for one, and also they’re Dr. Thao’s stories to tell, not mine—but after hearing them I was partially relieved that I wasn’t at his end of the table. I would not have been able to sit through his stories without crumbling into tears. Apparently he said would tell all of us more stories eventually, and I’m trying to prepare myself for that, but even thinking about what he told the others that night almost makes me cry. The man is unbelievable. Unfortunately, though, the story of that part of his life can’t be unique. Nearly everyone his age probably has a multitude of tragedy behind them, and every time I see an older man with scars, I wonder how he got them.
On a more cheerful note, Friday evening also brought the arrival of Becca, the 10th person in our program. She’s two weeks late due to VISA delays. I’d talked with her a bit before leaving the US. We’re all so excited for her to be here, and she seems to be as well. I put together a little gift bag for her arrival, with some yogurt, juice, oreos, pocket tissues, a notebook a few other staples. I was also pleased to remember that she’d brought me a tube of my favorite face soap that I’d forgotten to bring with me!
We woke up early (6:45 am) on Saturday to go see Uncle Ho. More accurately said, we visited the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex, which is really an impressive site and demonstrates how much this country loves the man. After surrendering backpacks and cameras, we walked in a silent, single file line through a marble building where his body is displayed. He looks pretty good for a guy who’s been dead for 4 decades, and apparently he’s sent to Russia for 2 months a year to have “work” done. The whole scene was a confused mixture of respectfulness, shock, and the eeriness of viewing a long-dead body, but I must say that I hope I can go back before I leave the city. The grounds of the complex are beautiful, with tree-lined avenues, a beautiful lake, a pagoda, and the “house on stilts” where Uncle Ho lived. There’s also an entire museum dedicated to him. I was shocked to find the museum very modern—almost post-modern. It was as much an art museum as a Ho Chi Minh museum, with several Picasso images and even a whole room dedicated to Guernica. But it was full people—mainly Vietnamese—again revealing how dear Uncle Ho is to this country.
Our morning sight-seeing was followed by brunch at Little Hanoi, where I enjoyed scrambled eggs with herbs and tomatoes, some toast, and a bit bottle of ice water. We got scammed by a taxi with a rigged meter on the way home, though. I wanted to tell off the driver in the little Vietnamese that I know—which is enough to express that I’m angry and that it was “too expensive”—but ultimately I couldn’t muster enough bitchiness. We stopped the cab several kilometers before the hotel and walked the rest of the way. It’s the first time I’ve been scammed since coming here, and I guess with was bound to happen sometime. I made up for it by buying 2 nice cotton blouses for 90,000 dong, or $5.45, on the walk home.
We also tried to go to a jazz club last night, but dinner took forever and we ended up missing it.
Today (Sunday) was another big day, with Hiep (the son of the hotel owners) taking us to a local pottery village. The bus ride out to the village reminded me again that I am really in Vietnam. Sometimes—like when I’m eating herbed scrambled eggs in French-like restaurant—it’s easy to forget. But driving through rice patties, fields crumbling shacks, and herds of cattle was a stark reminder that I’m in a developing country. The pottery village was beautiful—unfortunately I forgot to take photos but I’ll steal some from Kevin, the photographer of the group. I bought a vase, a tea set, and a tea cup with an infuser for about $8.75. And I haggled in Vietnamese. If that’s not 9 dollars well-spent, then I don’t know what is.
The wifi at the hotel has been out for days, which is frustrating. Day and Night Café, which has free wireless, is a five or ten minute walk from the hotel, but after a long day at orientation and whatever excursion I’ve made for dinner, I’m exhausted when I get home. Plus, I always hope that I can “borrow” some wifi, but even that’s been impossible lately. I’d like to be posting more frequent, but shorter, blogs, but that’s just not going to happen until wifi comes back at Quan Hoa (‘mandarin flower’) Hotel. In the mean time, I’ve been journaling a bit. I’ve also been writing mostly in Spanish, for a couple of reasons. One, I just miss Spanish. I’ve really been regretting not bringing a Spanish book along. Second, I don’t want to lose my Spanish. Sometimes I can’t remember words I used to know—like cesspool, for example—and it’s very discouraging and sad for me.
This week we’re starting lessons on pedagogic methodology. We’re only having language lessons in the mornings, which is a bummer, but I’m sure I’ll benefit from methodology lessons as well.
Next week we’re taking a trip, on Fulbright’s dime, to Dien Bien Phu for a historical and charitable visit. This weekend was my last in Hanoi…
Also, I’ve learned that I’ll have a week off in Nha Trang before I start working on September 8. I’m really excited about that. Everyone who’s heard that I’m going to Nha Trang says the same three things, almost invariably in the same order: Oh, it is very beautiful there! It has the best beaches in the country! You are very lucky! Boy, don’t I know it.
Despite the length of this post, I’ve only said about a third of what I want to say….this place, and these people, are still just so magical to me….
The week has been busy. Work/orientation from 8-5 everyday leaves little time in the evenings for activities, especially when leaving our cozy little distrist (called Cau Giay) requires waiting variable amounts of time for the bus. Nevertheless, nearly every night we’ve managed to at least go out for dinner somewhere. On Monday evening, Meghan, Kevin, David, Jahmila and I left immediately after orientation to go over to the Old Quarter/Hoan Kiem Lake area of town, to eat dinner and see a water puppet show. (We’d planned to see a water puppet show last week but dinner took too long.) The four of us had dinner at a little place called Little Hanoi. It looks quite French from the outside—even offering a walk-up counter to grab a sandwich or something—and has delicious food. My favorite is the cheese veggie, with gouda, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, and cucumber on a fresh baguette…. It’s a bit pricey by Vietnamese standards, but its reliably fresh, tasty food and speedy service makes the $5-8 worth the expense.
Between dinner and the water puppet show, I discovered something that improved my quality of life immensely: Bubble tea. In Nashville, I had bubble tea almost every day, leading me to christen this summer “My Summer of Bubble Tea”. (Last summer was “My Summer of John Mayer and HGTV”, and the summer before, “My Summer of Ice Cream”.) I’d assumed that bubble tea would be everywhere here, but the first week passed without a single cup of milk tea and tapioca. I was getting bummed, especially since I’d seen empty bubble tea cups on the street. I became determined to find some—it became a sense of purpose. And that night, after my cheese veggie sandwich at Little Hanoi, I spotted a young girl sipping bubble tea. I was ecstatic! I her asked in happy, broken Vietnamese where I could find some, and she pointed to the store I was standing beside. Yes, I was standing right beside it. With a deep sense of relief, I walked up to the counter, ordered a “large” taro bubble tea, handed over the 18,000 dong (about $1.09, and the same thing would cost $4 at home) and walked away feeling rejuvenated. Mission accomplished. I spent the next hour before the water puppets show wandering by myself—I needed some alone time--through the twisting streets of the Old Quarter. It was one of my favorite moments since I’ve been here. The area is beautiful at night, full of locals selling various wares and Western tourists deciding between them, and with my comforting cup of bubble tea, I felt confident and happy as I strolled along and dodged motorbikes.
(In fact, I was especially careful of motorbikes that night, because earlier that evening I’d been lightly hit by one. The guy was going the wrong way down a one-way street. I forget sometimes that traffic rules here are virtually non-existent, regardless of whatever the signs say, and I just didn’t look the other way. Luckily he slammed on his breaks and just kind of rolled up on my left ankle a bit. It didn’t hurt much and provided me with a good lesson in looking both ways before crossing a one-way street.)
The water puppet show was lovely, offering us 17 little skits about various rituals, customs, and legends. And for 40,000 dong (about $2.50), it was well worth it. Here’s a video I found on youtube:
Starting on Wednesday, we’ve had language lessons all day, every day. Of course, I love it. I can think of few things I love more than learning a new language. The lessons have been a little disorganized at times, and I would benefit from a textbook or something, but I’m learning. I’m anxious to know much, much more, though. I remember a part in the book Eat, Pray, Love where Elizabeth Gilbert, the author, is learning Italian. She says that she yearned for the language to magically take up residence in her. I have the same desire—for this language to be fully functional in my mind. It’s frustrating to not be able to read 99% of things I see, or communicate with people efficiently, or express my thoughts. And I hate being “that American” who doesn’t speak the language. But at this point, I can ask directions, tell time, construct choppy, often incorrect sentences, tell my waiter that I’m a vegetarian and want my noodles without meat. I even gave directions in Vietnamese to my taxi driver the other night, and today I haggled to knock a few thousand dong off the price of a vase I wanted. I’m a long way from saying that I can truly speak Vietnamese, but at least it doesn’t sound like gibberish anymore. When people speak, I generally have no idea what they’re saying, but I can distinguish individual words in the mix. It’s comforting to feel that maybe, possibly, perhaps, somehow one day in the future I might be able to have a normal conversation in this language.
One night this week we also ventured into KFC. Yes, KFC. I ended up eating French fries, mashed potatoes in a soup of gravy, and iceberg lettuce with no dressing. Not very tasty, and definitely overpriced. But it was worth a fairly comical incident. I needed to use the restroom, and I was directed to the third floor bathroom. When I got up there I couldn’t open the door to the girls’ room. I pulled, and pushed, and wiggled the handle in vain. Finally I decided to just use the boys’ room. No one was up on the third floor and I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem, despite the fact that there were 2 urinals in addition to the one stall I was using. Wrong. Right after I sat down, I heard the door to the bathroom open and a guy walk in. I tried to see if it was a fellow Fulbrighter, but I couldn’t tell. There I was, stuck in a stall in men’s bathroom in a KFC in Hanoi, Vietnam. I hoped maybe the guy wouldn’t know I was there, but it would have been easy for him to figure me out with my cute white sandals and pink toe nails. After a few minutes, he left, and after waiting what I thought was enough time to let him safely return downstairs, I tried to sneak out undiscovered. Failed. He was out in the hall, washing his hands. He looked surprised to see me walk out of the men’s bathroom he was just in, so I flashed a smile, waved innocently and ran down the stairs, hoping that he’d write me off as a confused tourist.
Thursday nights are English Club. From 7:30 to 9 or so. Between orientation and English club, we have to find something to occupy our time. Last week we walked to a big coffee shop several blocks away (which was pretty miserable as it was raining heavily). This week though, we made our way to BIG C supermarket. Think Vietnamese Walmart on the 2nd floor with a nice pizza hut, Legends Beer hall, Highlands Coffee (aka Starbucks of Vietnam) and an expensive mall on the first floor. We’d heard that the Pizza Hut tasted a lot like the stuff at home, which was an exciting prospect when nothing else tastes quite like you expect it to. And to our pleasant surprise, we found the pizza hut rumor to be correct. Hot, cheesy, greasy slices of home served to us in the nicest Pizza Hut I’ve ever seen. After eating we all went up to the Big C, but several of us didn’t go in because we had to check our bags—which had our computers inside. We waited in Highlands coffee, where I enjoyed a cold Mango smoothie before heading back to campus for English Club.
The club is run by an American girl named Kristin, who’s a volunteer teacher at the university this summer. She’s wonderful. Earlier that day she met us for lunch, took us to one of her favorite places near campus, and then introduced us to a tasty drink made with sticky rice, sweetened condensed milk, yogurt and crushed ice. She’s been leading the club all summer, and apparently doing a great job. About 25 to 30 students, ranging in age from 13 to 30, show up to practice their English every Thursday night. Apparently the university had to work very hard for us to be “permitted” to go to the English club, and we feel honored to be invited. Last week we just broke up into groups and talked with the students. This week, though, we played the game Mafia. (Any Transy grads reading should know what I’m talking about.) It’s a group game involving accusations, defenses, sheriffs and “murders” of townspeople by the local mafia. I would have never thought to use it as a teaching tool, but it’s really a great idea. It forces the students to make arguments and creative stories. Unfortunately I was the first townsperson to be “killed” largely thanks to (from what I hear) the shy little Vietnamese girl I befriended and who was sitting beside me. I had to sit out the rest of the game, but that I got to see who was who in the game, and I got to chat with the other “ghosts.” And, I got to observe Kristin’s teaching methods, which will no doubt be helpful to me in a few weeks.
This weekend has been pretty exciting, too. After work on Friday, we met Dr. Thao and another guy from Fulbright for dinner and beer. As a reminder, Dr. Thao is the god-like director of Fulbright, and the guy who excellently recommended that we go to Legends Beer to drink and watch the opening Olympic ceremony last week. It was also his idea that we all go out for bia. He took us to a more “authentic” place, where everyday people go to drink. Apparently Legends is a bit expensive for the average pocketbook. The place was incredible, almost a big tiki hut, with giant fans that spritzed out water. We ordered a round of beer and several dishes for all of us to share. Soon we were also joined by one of our Vietnamese teachers, Thuy, who’s young, spunky, and keeps us all laughing. (She had also eaten lunch with us that day, during which time she “read our faces” and gave the boys advice on dating Vietnamese women. She reminds me of Tinkerbell from the Peter Pan movie—tiny, adorable, wide-eyed, feisty, sometimes a bit abrasive and always hard to control. She’s quite a pistol.) I don’t like beer, but I dutifully drank the one given to me and actually enjoyed it to some extent. It’s called “bia hoi”, a local draught that brewed daily is only served the day it’s made. It was tolerable as far as beers go—everyone else seemed to love it—but I nevertheless switched to Coke after one glass.
The evening passed with a pleasant breeze, great company and lots of laughing at my end of the table. At the other end of the table, though, where Dr. Thao had relocated half-way through the night, was quite somber. I heard the next day (over brunch at Little Hanoi) that Dr. Thao had been telling them stories of his time during the war. David recounted them to me. I won’t repeat them here—I couldn’t do them justice, for one, and also they’re Dr. Thao’s stories to tell, not mine—but after hearing them I was partially relieved that I wasn’t at his end of the table. I would not have been able to sit through his stories without crumbling into tears. Apparently he said would tell all of us more stories eventually, and I’m trying to prepare myself for that, but even thinking about what he told the others that night almost makes me cry. The man is unbelievable. Unfortunately, though, the story of that part of his life can’t be unique. Nearly everyone his age probably has a multitude of tragedy behind them, and every time I see an older man with scars, I wonder how he got them.
On a more cheerful note, Friday evening also brought the arrival of Becca, the 10th person in our program. She’s two weeks late due to VISA delays. I’d talked with her a bit before leaving the US. We’re all so excited for her to be here, and she seems to be as well. I put together a little gift bag for her arrival, with some yogurt, juice, oreos, pocket tissues, a notebook a few other staples. I was also pleased to remember that she’d brought me a tube of my favorite face soap that I’d forgotten to bring with me!
We woke up early (6:45 am) on Saturday to go see Uncle Ho. More accurately said, we visited the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex, which is really an impressive site and demonstrates how much this country loves the man. After surrendering backpacks and cameras, we walked in a silent, single file line through a marble building where his body is displayed. He looks pretty good for a guy who’s been dead for 4 decades, and apparently he’s sent to Russia for 2 months a year to have “work” done. The whole scene was a confused mixture of respectfulness, shock, and the eeriness of viewing a long-dead body, but I must say that I hope I can go back before I leave the city. The grounds of the complex are beautiful, with tree-lined avenues, a beautiful lake, a pagoda, and the “house on stilts” where Uncle Ho lived. There’s also an entire museum dedicated to him. I was shocked to find the museum very modern—almost post-modern. It was as much an art museum as a Ho Chi Minh museum, with several Picasso images and even a whole room dedicated to Guernica. But it was full people—mainly Vietnamese—again revealing how dear Uncle Ho is to this country.
Our morning sight-seeing was followed by brunch at Little Hanoi, where I enjoyed scrambled eggs with herbs and tomatoes, some toast, and a bit bottle of ice water. We got scammed by a taxi with a rigged meter on the way home, though. I wanted to tell off the driver in the little Vietnamese that I know—which is enough to express that I’m angry and that it was “too expensive”—but ultimately I couldn’t muster enough bitchiness. We stopped the cab several kilometers before the hotel and walked the rest of the way. It’s the first time I’ve been scammed since coming here, and I guess with was bound to happen sometime. I made up for it by buying 2 nice cotton blouses for 90,000 dong, or $5.45, on the walk home.
We also tried to go to a jazz club last night, but dinner took forever and we ended up missing it.
Today (Sunday) was another big day, with Hiep (the son of the hotel owners) taking us to a local pottery village. The bus ride out to the village reminded me again that I am really in Vietnam. Sometimes—like when I’m eating herbed scrambled eggs in French-like restaurant—it’s easy to forget. But driving through rice patties, fields crumbling shacks, and herds of cattle was a stark reminder that I’m in a developing country. The pottery village was beautiful—unfortunately I forgot to take photos but I’ll steal some from Kevin, the photographer of the group. I bought a vase, a tea set, and a tea cup with an infuser for about $8.75. And I haggled in Vietnamese. If that’s not 9 dollars well-spent, then I don’t know what is.
The wifi at the hotel has been out for days, which is frustrating. Day and Night Café, which has free wireless, is a five or ten minute walk from the hotel, but after a long day at orientation and whatever excursion I’ve made for dinner, I’m exhausted when I get home. Plus, I always hope that I can “borrow” some wifi, but even that’s been impossible lately. I’d like to be posting more frequent, but shorter, blogs, but that’s just not going to happen until wifi comes back at Quan Hoa (‘mandarin flower’) Hotel. In the mean time, I’ve been journaling a bit. I’ve also been writing mostly in Spanish, for a couple of reasons. One, I just miss Spanish. I’ve really been regretting not bringing a Spanish book along. Second, I don’t want to lose my Spanish. Sometimes I can’t remember words I used to know—like cesspool, for example—and it’s very discouraging and sad for me.
This week we’re starting lessons on pedagogic methodology. We’re only having language lessons in the mornings, which is a bummer, but I’m sure I’ll benefit from methodology lessons as well.
Next week we’re taking a trip, on Fulbright’s dime, to Dien Bien Phu for a historical and charitable visit. This weekend was my last in Hanoi…
Also, I’ve learned that I’ll have a week off in Nha Trang before I start working on September 8. I’m really excited about that. Everyone who’s heard that I’m going to Nha Trang says the same three things, almost invariably in the same order: Oh, it is very beautiful there! It has the best beaches in the country! You are very lucky! Boy, don’t I know it.
Despite the length of this post, I’ve only said about a third of what I want to say….this place, and these people, are still just so magical to me….
Without wifi
The internet at the hotel has been down for days, and I haven't had time to get to the wifi cafe, so I haven't been able to post any updates lately. I promise one soon, though!
In the meantime, all is well here! I'm still incredibly happy and loving Viet Nam....
In the meantime, all is well here! I'm still incredibly happy and loving Viet Nam....
11 August 2008
In Transit
An old favorite poem that I re-stumbled upon tonight, and that seems fitting for my current nomadic situation.
IN TRANSIT
by Elisavietta Richie
Coming from somewhere else
at any age, even in utero,
you're never sure
your feet touch the soil.
Your whole life you hover--
hawk, helicopter
or fat dirigible, fearful
someone might poke a hole,
light a match--
You hang in there, up there,
wondering will they finally
grant permission to land
or forever challenge your passport,
check your fingerprints,
discount your money, question
could you survive as a stranger?
Best stay suspended,
forget the keys to the town.
Here, the air is dangerous, cold,
wind currents tricky, but
God, what a view.
IN TRANSIT
by Elisavietta Richie
Coming from somewhere else
at any age, even in utero,
you're never sure
your feet touch the soil.
Your whole life you hover--
hawk, helicopter
or fat dirigible, fearful
someone might poke a hole,
light a match--
You hang in there, up there,
wondering will they finally
grant permission to land
or forever challenge your passport,
check your fingerprints,
discount your money, question
could you survive as a stranger?
Best stay suspended,
forget the keys to the town.
Here, the air is dangerous, cold,
wind currents tricky, but
God, what a view.
10 August 2008
First Week, in review.
Well, I've survived my first week in Hanoi with hardly any problems to speak of apart from the challenge of finding an ATM I can get get money from.Unfortunately I've been quite busy here and haven't had much time to blog during the week, but there's so much I want to say about this wonderful city.
Let me start with this: I love this place. I love it. I love the people, who have proven themselves to be the nicest and most pragmatic people I've met. I love the little children, who are so astonishingly adorable that even the male Fulbrighters can't help but coo and point. I love all the smells, even the bad ones. I love the flexible combination of French, Soviet, and Vietnamese architecture. I love the statue of Lenin. I love the thrill and the sense of accomplishment I have whenever I cross the street. I love the temples, lakes, street barbers. I love the ca phe sua da. I love the young boy in Day and Night Cafe who asks me in broken English how I am every night when I come in to check my email. I feel at home here, despite the fact that I have no idea what anyone's saying, or even what's going on half the time. I even feel more comfortable here than in Lawrenceburg, Ky. (Sorry, Mom.)
The first week has been impressively fulfilling and challenging, confirming my adoration of this city and this country, and my happiness to be here with Fulbright. On Monday morning we were picked up at the hotel at 7:30 (we have a driver every day) and taken to the US Embassy. The day passed with a series of briefings from various diplomats, security officers, and political analysts, who were all unexpectedly cool and laid back (even throwing in some colorful language). I wanted to spend hours with each person, to try to figure out how, exactly, one can lead such an international life, maintain a family, maintain some sense of identity....
We met Dr. Thao, the director of the Vietnam Fulbright Program and a well-known educator throughout the country. He has organized everything for us. I strongly believe that someone needs to make a movie about this man. He struggled to stay alive during the war. He grew up in Hue, which was destroyed during the war. He struggled to become educated both here and in the US (where he got his PhD from UPenn). He struggled to remain uncorrupted in the education system in Vietam. He struggled to start the Fulbright program back in '92. And, most recently, he's been struggling to start the ETA program (which I'm in) since 2000.
Although Dr. Thao (who I want to be my life coach) is the director, so many other people have struggled and worked very hard to get us here. That fact has become increasingly evident since I've arrived in the country. The layers of bureaucracy are thick here, and everything takes time, patience, paperwork, and a good connection. But everything has run smoothly. We did notice a few men in their Party uniforms following us as we bought cell phones, but that's to be expected for a while. And we are being taken care of quite well, especially by Vietnamese standards. I'm making $1100 USD each month. The average Vietnamese makes around $100 USD, when looking at pure exchange rates. Even with purchasing power parity, the average GDP per capita is only around $3000. And for the amount of money I'm making here, I should be working that much harder than the average Vietnamese person here. I'm not, though. I have a cushy life here, when I can see everyone around me working infinitely harder for about one-tenth of what I'm earning. The people here work hard, and life seems difficult for many of them.
If I have learned nothing else in this first week, I have learned that this country and these people are fighting and working quite hard to move forward. To help the Vietnamese people. To strengthen the nation. Despite what one might think, this place is quite forward-leaning. And after thousands of years of outside domination, there is finally an opportunity to move forward. The country has performed what is perhaps the greatest reduction of poverty ever, reducing the percentage of people living on $2 per day or less from around 85% to 30% or so. And they are anxious to improve education (the state of which everyone is pretty "pissed off" about, apparently), to improve technology, to improve international relations and cooperation. The government, from what I can tell, does legitimately have the best interests of the country and people at heart. This is an exciting and dynamic time for this country. I feel so fortunate to be here in the midst of all of this energy and change, especially the education reform.
We've been meeting some important people, it seems. On Monday during the briefings at the Embassy, the Ambassador just popped in to say hello and meet all of us. Tuesday--our first day of orientation at the Hanoi University of Education--we met the President of the school (a quite powerful position here), who doubles as a member of Congress. Apparently his hospitality (offering up his university as our host) allowed Fulbright to get this program started at virtually the last minute.
Orientation is going quite well, too. Every morning we meet in the lobby of the hotel at 8:15 am, hop in the van and drive a couple miles to Hanoi University of Education. From 8:30 to 12pm, we have culture, history, economics lessons, which are thankfully interrupted by a half-hour break around 10 am. The mornings are a little dry sometimes, but I'm grateful to be getting so much information about the country, the organization of the education system, the cultural traditions and such. It helps me feel oriented and gives me a better sense of context. From 12 until 2 pm we're free for lunch. The two-hour lunch break seems unnecessarily long, but we're not really complaining. This week we ate at the cafeteria, an open-air/street-side "restaurant" , a pho place nestled back into an alley on campus, and the western-style restaurant at the tech institute across the street. Surprisingly, out of all those places, the western restaurant was the one place where I found a bug crawling through my food. Luckily it was kind of cute--looked like a lady bug--so I just calmly asked for a new salad. You've gotta be pretty damn flexible to survive around here.
The afternoons are my favorite part of the day, because that's when we have.....VIETNAMESE LESSONS! The language geek in me emerges, and even though I suck at this language, I still love it. The first couple of days I felt totally overwhelmed, and thought that I might not ever fully grasp the language. At this point, though, I'm still completely lost but it's starting to feel more tangible. Especially now that we're getting into grammar and I'm starting to understand word placement and sentence construction a bit. On Friday we all had to write a paragraph telling our names, ages, where we're from, how long we've been in Viet Nam, what languages we speak. And what a sense of accomplishment I (in fact, all of us) had! Writing an entire paragraph in Vietnamese, regardless of how elementary it was. Next week the last 2 or 3 days are entirely devoted to language lessons, which excites me to no end. (Speaking of language lessons, my little sis Hayley just started high school and started taking Spanish! This warms my heart...)
Although I love orientation, I was very glad when Friday rolled around. I'm not exactly used to being occupied from 8-5 every day--still very spoiled by the college schedule (which I love). Plus, my body was just at its limit. I'm eating as well I can here, but it's challenging as a vegetarian. I'm sleeping pretty well and I'm over jetlag. I feel adjusted, more or less. But being here just takes a lot of energy. The heat and humidity are draining. We walk a lot. The weekend was much needed.
Friday was the opening of the Olympics, so at the encouragement of Meghan (who seems to live for the Olympics :), we all went out to eat, drink, and watch the Olympics. We all searched in our guidebooks for a worthy bar or restaurant with a big TV, but we eventually just asked Dr. Thao for a recommendation. He told us Legends Beer was a good place, and he even called the post office (like calling 411 in the US) to make sure they had a big-screen TV. He also texted Jahmila, a girl in the program, telling us to have a great time and to "drink a gallon" for him. Like I said, he's a great man. We managed to take the bus and find Legends Beer, which turned out to be a German-style beer hall that offered 4 microbrews. The place was huge, and was packed full of Vietnamese people, a small cluster of Chinese folks (who stood and sang the Chinese anthem during the ceremony), and, of course, our table of Americans. I don't drink beer, so I ordered a bottle of wine (ok, more than one bottle) with Meghan and Jahmila... Watching the Olympics in a German beer hall in Hanoi, Vietnam, with 8 wonderful new friends from all over America, was one of the best times in my life. I had chills at times, feeling so overwhelmed by both the circumstance and beautiful opening ceremony. It was one of the innumerable moments I've had since coming here that I've just felt so impossibly fortunate, blessed, privileged and lucky.
Unfortunately, though, I soon felt inebriated on top of all that. All I'd eaten that day was a bowl of pho (not a substantial meal, folks) and a few onion rings. Plus, I haven't really had much wine since the night of graduation back in May. We all had a great time--the boys did, in fact, drink over a gallon combined--and we all got home safely. And that's all that matters, right?
Saturday morning I stayed in bed until Meghan knocked on my door at noon. I felt awful and was actually dreading the sunlight. She asked me "Aren't you coming?" Somehow I missed the memo that Hiep, the 20-year-old son of the hotel owners, was taking us to see some sights in Hanoi. I threw some clothes on, brushed my teeth, and was downstairs in about 5 minutes...Hiep took us to see the Temple of Literature (where he paid for us to get in). The temple is unbelievable. It was actually the first university in the country, founded in 1046 under the Ly dynasty. I think was in use until the 1700s. It's a large compound of ornate buildings, ponds, tree lined court yards, statues. Absolutely unbelievable. Google image it!
After the temple of literature, we went to lunch at KOTO, a charitable organization that takes in street kids and trains them for culinary careers. My meal wasn't impressive, but I was also hung over and craving french fries so I'd be willing to give it a second chance. Hiep refused to let us pay for his lunch, which we wanted to do to thank him for offering to show us around all day. Instead, he then took us to a back-alley joint--basically in someone's living room--where he treated us to what's called "che bobochacha". It's little dish of fresh fruit, jello-ish stuff, coconut milk and fruit juice. Pretty strange looking but it was delicious. And it was a place that none of us would ever have known about--or even have been able to find--without Hiep. This place was seriously authentic Vietnamese and created for me another moment of pure joy and thankfulness.
Hiep then took us to see the oldest temple/pagoda in the city, which sits out on West Lake, which is the largest lake in the city (there are several). West lake, by the way, is where McCain parachuted back in the day. The temple was yet another astonishingly gorgeous, ridiculously old establishment, featuring a tower of sitting Buddhas behind a lotus pond and an impressive bonsai installation. There's also a tree there that was apparently grown from a cutting of the tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment, something that not all temples can offer.
We got back to the hotel just before a serious storm broke. We managed to order pizza, which was quite an ordeal. And a rather disappointing one at that--the pizza wasn't very good (not like at home!) and was pretty expensive. Oh, well. Everything else here (except for wine) is crazily cheap. And nothing here is like it is at home. Nothing.
Today has been a lazy Sunday. Internet is now working again in the hotel (largely thanks to Hiep), so I've been posting photos, catching up on emails and news, writing this post.... It was raining a lot this morning which seemed to justify staying for four hours at Day and Night Cafe down the street. Eventually Jahmila, Jenette and I made an excursion to a vegetarian restaurant across town. We got a little lost on the bus system but luckily we found a girl that spoke French who could tell me directions. I was so excited to finally break out the French! This is the first time I've heard anyone--besides French tourists--speak French. And the girl was young, which was surprising since generally only older people still speak French around here. Speaking French with a helpful young Vietnamese girl made getting lost worth the while. We ultimately found the restaurant, enjoyed an amazing meal (for about 4.50 USD) and I even felt full at the end, a feeling that I rarely have anymore.
A few general comments: The people are overwhelmingly kind and generous. Truly the nicest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. They put southern hospitality to shame. And as a culture they are extremely pragmatic and dynamic. For example, I felt so much shame and guilt about the war before I came here. But the attitude seems to be this: The Chinese dominated Vietnam for over a thousand years, the French for a hundred and the Americans for a few decades. We are only a blip on their historical screen. Furthermore, I’ve been told, the past is the past and now we have a new page of cooperation between the two countries. Everyone I’ve met has told me to just forget the war and appreciate the good relationship we now share. I’m amazed at this. But apparently such an attitude was bred from such a history of foreign domination, especially by a powerful northern neighbor who wouldn’t have appreciated a long-standing grudge held against it. It is an attitude that allowed this country to survive. It is also an attitude that has created a great sense of cultural flexibility, allowing the Vietnamese to absorb useful things from whatever culture was currently dominating them, without ever assimilating to the foreign power.
This place is truly fascinating. I realize that, in a Word document, this post is around five pages long. But I know that my friends and family who are reading this still have no idea what this place is like. How it feels. Even how it looks, despite photos. It feels so futile to take pictures and to try to describe everything. I continue to do so, though, if only for my own future benefit. I’m sure that there is no other place like this anywhere in the world, and I’m so happy to be here.
Also, a note about my new Fulbright friends. We’re really a great group. We get along superbly, we work well together when we’re out sight-seeing or dining, and we have so much fun together! People are starting to develop individual roles in the group, as well. Keith navigates and taught us how to cross the street and use the bus system. Kevin takes photos, always asks for the check, and writes down names of new foods and places. Jahmila is the good New Yorker who just figures out everything, like buying cell phones and doing laundry. David keeps us all laughing with his intelligent wit. (He also reminds me of my best friend TJ, which provides a false, although appreciated, sense of comfort for me ☺. ) Andrew has a hand-pump water filter in case Hanoi some how runs out of its abundant (read: endless) supply of inexpensive bottled water. He’s also going to be the stand-in Santa when we all get together for Christmas. I’m not sure what my role is, unless it’s entertaining the group by going to sleep and falling off the bed after coming home from Legends Beer hall. That embarrassing moment aside, I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with my new friends. Being dropped down in a new city on the opposite side of the globe creates some serious bonding potential, which we’re exploiting, and we’re already thinking about how much we’ll miss each other when we leave Hanoi for our respective teaching assignments. I can’t imagine being here with any other group of 9 people.
I'll add photos when the internet is stronger--it has suddenly started cutting out. In the mean time, there are lots of new ones at my picasa, picasaweb.google.com/malloryimlervn...
Let me start with this: I love this place. I love it. I love the people, who have proven themselves to be the nicest and most pragmatic people I've met. I love the little children, who are so astonishingly adorable that even the male Fulbrighters can't help but coo and point. I love all the smells, even the bad ones. I love the flexible combination of French, Soviet, and Vietnamese architecture. I love the statue of Lenin. I love the thrill and the sense of accomplishment I have whenever I cross the street. I love the temples, lakes, street barbers. I love the ca phe sua da. I love the young boy in Day and Night Cafe who asks me in broken English how I am every night when I come in to check my email. I feel at home here, despite the fact that I have no idea what anyone's saying, or even what's going on half the time. I even feel more comfortable here than in Lawrenceburg, Ky. (Sorry, Mom.)
The first week has been impressively fulfilling and challenging, confirming my adoration of this city and this country, and my happiness to be here with Fulbright. On Monday morning we were picked up at the hotel at 7:30 (we have a driver every day) and taken to the US Embassy. The day passed with a series of briefings from various diplomats, security officers, and political analysts, who were all unexpectedly cool and laid back (even throwing in some colorful language). I wanted to spend hours with each person, to try to figure out how, exactly, one can lead such an international life, maintain a family, maintain some sense of identity....
We met Dr. Thao, the director of the Vietnam Fulbright Program and a well-known educator throughout the country. He has organized everything for us. I strongly believe that someone needs to make a movie about this man. He struggled to stay alive during the war. He grew up in Hue, which was destroyed during the war. He struggled to become educated both here and in the US (where he got his PhD from UPenn). He struggled to remain uncorrupted in the education system in Vietam. He struggled to start the Fulbright program back in '92. And, most recently, he's been struggling to start the ETA program (which I'm in) since 2000.
Although Dr. Thao (who I want to be my life coach) is the director, so many other people have struggled and worked very hard to get us here. That fact has become increasingly evident since I've arrived in the country. The layers of bureaucracy are thick here, and everything takes time, patience, paperwork, and a good connection. But everything has run smoothly. We did notice a few men in their Party uniforms following us as we bought cell phones, but that's to be expected for a while. And we are being taken care of quite well, especially by Vietnamese standards. I'm making $1100 USD each month. The average Vietnamese makes around $100 USD, when looking at pure exchange rates. Even with purchasing power parity, the average GDP per capita is only around $3000. And for the amount of money I'm making here, I should be working that much harder than the average Vietnamese person here. I'm not, though. I have a cushy life here, when I can see everyone around me working infinitely harder for about one-tenth of what I'm earning. The people here work hard, and life seems difficult for many of them.
If I have learned nothing else in this first week, I have learned that this country and these people are fighting and working quite hard to move forward. To help the Vietnamese people. To strengthen the nation. Despite what one might think, this place is quite forward-leaning. And after thousands of years of outside domination, there is finally an opportunity to move forward. The country has performed what is perhaps the greatest reduction of poverty ever, reducing the percentage of people living on $2 per day or less from around 85% to 30% or so. And they are anxious to improve education (the state of which everyone is pretty "pissed off" about, apparently), to improve technology, to improve international relations and cooperation. The government, from what I can tell, does legitimately have the best interests of the country and people at heart. This is an exciting and dynamic time for this country. I feel so fortunate to be here in the midst of all of this energy and change, especially the education reform.
We've been meeting some important people, it seems. On Monday during the briefings at the Embassy, the Ambassador just popped in to say hello and meet all of us. Tuesday--our first day of orientation at the Hanoi University of Education--we met the President of the school (a quite powerful position here), who doubles as a member of Congress. Apparently his hospitality (offering up his university as our host) allowed Fulbright to get this program started at virtually the last minute.
Orientation is going quite well, too. Every morning we meet in the lobby of the hotel at 8:15 am, hop in the van and drive a couple miles to Hanoi University of Education. From 8:30 to 12pm, we have culture, history, economics lessons, which are thankfully interrupted by a half-hour break around 10 am. The mornings are a little dry sometimes, but I'm grateful to be getting so much information about the country, the organization of the education system, the cultural traditions and such. It helps me feel oriented and gives me a better sense of context. From 12 until 2 pm we're free for lunch. The two-hour lunch break seems unnecessarily long, but we're not really complaining. This week we ate at the cafeteria, an open-air/street-side "restaurant" , a pho place nestled back into an alley on campus, and the western-style restaurant at the tech institute across the street. Surprisingly, out of all those places, the western restaurant was the one place where I found a bug crawling through my food. Luckily it was kind of cute--looked like a lady bug--so I just calmly asked for a new salad. You've gotta be pretty damn flexible to survive around here.
The afternoons are my favorite part of the day, because that's when we have.....VIETNAMESE LESSONS! The language geek in me emerges, and even though I suck at this language, I still love it. The first couple of days I felt totally overwhelmed, and thought that I might not ever fully grasp the language. At this point, though, I'm still completely lost but it's starting to feel more tangible. Especially now that we're getting into grammar and I'm starting to understand word placement and sentence construction a bit. On Friday we all had to write a paragraph telling our names, ages, where we're from, how long we've been in Viet Nam, what languages we speak. And what a sense of accomplishment I (in fact, all of us) had! Writing an entire paragraph in Vietnamese, regardless of how elementary it was. Next week the last 2 or 3 days are entirely devoted to language lessons, which excites me to no end. (Speaking of language lessons, my little sis Hayley just started high school and started taking Spanish! This warms my heart...)
Although I love orientation, I was very glad when Friday rolled around. I'm not exactly used to being occupied from 8-5 every day--still very spoiled by the college schedule (which I love). Plus, my body was just at its limit. I'm eating as well I can here, but it's challenging as a vegetarian. I'm sleeping pretty well and I'm over jetlag. I feel adjusted, more or less. But being here just takes a lot of energy. The heat and humidity are draining. We walk a lot. The weekend was much needed.
Friday was the opening of the Olympics, so at the encouragement of Meghan (who seems to live for the Olympics :), we all went out to eat, drink, and watch the Olympics. We all searched in our guidebooks for a worthy bar or restaurant with a big TV, but we eventually just asked Dr. Thao for a recommendation. He told us Legends Beer was a good place, and he even called the post office (like calling 411 in the US) to make sure they had a big-screen TV. He also texted Jahmila, a girl in the program, telling us to have a great time and to "drink a gallon" for him. Like I said, he's a great man. We managed to take the bus and find Legends Beer, which turned out to be a German-style beer hall that offered 4 microbrews. The place was huge, and was packed full of Vietnamese people, a small cluster of Chinese folks (who stood and sang the Chinese anthem during the ceremony), and, of course, our table of Americans. I don't drink beer, so I ordered a bottle of wine (ok, more than one bottle) with Meghan and Jahmila... Watching the Olympics in a German beer hall in Hanoi, Vietnam, with 8 wonderful new friends from all over America, was one of the best times in my life. I had chills at times, feeling so overwhelmed by both the circumstance and beautiful opening ceremony. It was one of the innumerable moments I've had since coming here that I've just felt so impossibly fortunate, blessed, privileged and lucky.
Unfortunately, though, I soon felt inebriated on top of all that. All I'd eaten that day was a bowl of pho (not a substantial meal, folks) and a few onion rings. Plus, I haven't really had much wine since the night of graduation back in May. We all had a great time--the boys did, in fact, drink over a gallon combined--and we all got home safely. And that's all that matters, right?
Saturday morning I stayed in bed until Meghan knocked on my door at noon. I felt awful and was actually dreading the sunlight. She asked me "Aren't you coming?" Somehow I missed the memo that Hiep, the 20-year-old son of the hotel owners, was taking us to see some sights in Hanoi. I threw some clothes on, brushed my teeth, and was downstairs in about 5 minutes...Hiep took us to see the Temple of Literature (where he paid for us to get in). The temple is unbelievable. It was actually the first university in the country, founded in 1046 under the Ly dynasty. I think was in use until the 1700s. It's a large compound of ornate buildings, ponds, tree lined court yards, statues. Absolutely unbelievable. Google image it!
After the temple of literature, we went to lunch at KOTO, a charitable organization that takes in street kids and trains them for culinary careers. My meal wasn't impressive, but I was also hung over and craving french fries so I'd be willing to give it a second chance. Hiep refused to let us pay for his lunch, which we wanted to do to thank him for offering to show us around all day. Instead, he then took us to a back-alley joint--basically in someone's living room--where he treated us to what's called "che bobochacha". It's little dish of fresh fruit, jello-ish stuff, coconut milk and fruit juice. Pretty strange looking but it was delicious. And it was a place that none of us would ever have known about--or even have been able to find--without Hiep. This place was seriously authentic Vietnamese and created for me another moment of pure joy and thankfulness.
Hiep then took us to see the oldest temple/pagoda in the city, which sits out on West Lake, which is the largest lake in the city (there are several). West lake, by the way, is where McCain parachuted back in the day. The temple was yet another astonishingly gorgeous, ridiculously old establishment, featuring a tower of sitting Buddhas behind a lotus pond and an impressive bonsai installation. There's also a tree there that was apparently grown from a cutting of the tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment, something that not all temples can offer.
We got back to the hotel just before a serious storm broke. We managed to order pizza, which was quite an ordeal. And a rather disappointing one at that--the pizza wasn't very good (not like at home!) and was pretty expensive. Oh, well. Everything else here (except for wine) is crazily cheap. And nothing here is like it is at home. Nothing.
Today has been a lazy Sunday. Internet is now working again in the hotel (largely thanks to Hiep), so I've been posting photos, catching up on emails and news, writing this post.... It was raining a lot this morning which seemed to justify staying for four hours at Day and Night Cafe down the street. Eventually Jahmila, Jenette and I made an excursion to a vegetarian restaurant across town. We got a little lost on the bus system but luckily we found a girl that spoke French who could tell me directions. I was so excited to finally break out the French! This is the first time I've heard anyone--besides French tourists--speak French. And the girl was young, which was surprising since generally only older people still speak French around here. Speaking French with a helpful young Vietnamese girl made getting lost worth the while. We ultimately found the restaurant, enjoyed an amazing meal (for about 4.50 USD) and I even felt full at the end, a feeling that I rarely have anymore.
A few general comments: The people are overwhelmingly kind and generous. Truly the nicest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. They put southern hospitality to shame. And as a culture they are extremely pragmatic and dynamic. For example, I felt so much shame and guilt about the war before I came here. But the attitude seems to be this: The Chinese dominated Vietnam for over a thousand years, the French for a hundred and the Americans for a few decades. We are only a blip on their historical screen. Furthermore, I’ve been told, the past is the past and now we have a new page of cooperation between the two countries. Everyone I’ve met has told me to just forget the war and appreciate the good relationship we now share. I’m amazed at this. But apparently such an attitude was bred from such a history of foreign domination, especially by a powerful northern neighbor who wouldn’t have appreciated a long-standing grudge held against it. It is an attitude that allowed this country to survive. It is also an attitude that has created a great sense of cultural flexibility, allowing the Vietnamese to absorb useful things from whatever culture was currently dominating them, without ever assimilating to the foreign power.
This place is truly fascinating. I realize that, in a Word document, this post is around five pages long. But I know that my friends and family who are reading this still have no idea what this place is like. How it feels. Even how it looks, despite photos. It feels so futile to take pictures and to try to describe everything. I continue to do so, though, if only for my own future benefit. I’m sure that there is no other place like this anywhere in the world, and I’m so happy to be here.
Also, a note about my new Fulbright friends. We’re really a great group. We get along superbly, we work well together when we’re out sight-seeing or dining, and we have so much fun together! People are starting to develop individual roles in the group, as well. Keith navigates and taught us how to cross the street and use the bus system. Kevin takes photos, always asks for the check, and writes down names of new foods and places. Jahmila is the good New Yorker who just figures out everything, like buying cell phones and doing laundry. David keeps us all laughing with his intelligent wit. (He also reminds me of my best friend TJ, which provides a false, although appreciated, sense of comfort for me ☺. ) Andrew has a hand-pump water filter in case Hanoi some how runs out of its abundant (read: endless) supply of inexpensive bottled water. He’s also going to be the stand-in Santa when we all get together for Christmas. I’m not sure what my role is, unless it’s entertaining the group by going to sleep and falling off the bed after coming home from Legends Beer hall. That embarrassing moment aside, I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with my new friends. Being dropped down in a new city on the opposite side of the globe creates some serious bonding potential, which we’re exploiting, and we’re already thinking about how much we’ll miss each other when we leave Hanoi for our respective teaching assignments. I can’t imagine being here with any other group of 9 people.
I'll add photos when the internet is stronger--it has suddenly started cutting out. In the mean time, there are lots of new ones at my picasa, picasaweb.google.com/malloryimlervn...
06 August 2008
Hiroshima
Video by Jon Cunningham (Corn Mo) for the upcoming single Hiroshima from the Sam's first album with Folds.
http://www.spinner.com/2008/08/05/ben-folds-hiroshima-new-video-premiere/
http://www.spinner.com/2008/
Mobils, Wifi and Water puppets
I was warned that everything in Viet Nam takes a while to get done. But, so far, everything has happened right on schedule. On Monday, we asked how we could buy cell phones. Dr. Thao, the director of Fulbright here (more on him later), said he would arrange for us to go get them on Tuesday. I assumed it would, in fact, probably take several days. I was wrong. The next day (yesterday), we were sent with a translator to the cell phone store. I am now the proud owner of a Vietnamese "mobile" a Vietnamese number!
Another example of punctuality: The night I checked in (Friday), I asked about internet in the hotel. I'd read online that the hotel had broadband, but a Fulbright assistant said it did not. The hotel clerk said what I thought meant they were installing internet in 5 days. I spread the word among the other Fulbrighters with the disclaimer that a) the clerk barely spoke English and b) it could take months for them to actually install wifi. However, we just returned from orientation today to find men installing the routers in each hall. No more "borrowed" wifi for me! No more glitchy skype video calls! And not as many late night treks home from Day and Night Cafe (although I've come to like the walk...).
Tonight we're going out to dinner and to see a water puppet show. Water puppets are a traditional art form in Viet Nam. Very excited!
Everything is going so well. I am so fucking happy here. Em dem, or, in English, peaceful. I have infinitely more to say about that, which I will do when I don't have to run out to a water puppets show.....
Another example of punctuality: The night I checked in (Friday), I asked about internet in the hotel. I'd read online that the hotel had broadband, but a Fulbright assistant said it did not. The hotel clerk said what I thought meant they were installing internet in 5 days. I spread the word among the other Fulbrighters with the disclaimer that a) the clerk barely spoke English and b) it could take months for them to actually install wifi. However, we just returned from orientation today to find men installing the routers in each hall. No more "borrowed" wifi for me! No more glitchy skype video calls! And not as many late night treks home from Day and Night Cafe (although I've come to like the walk...).
Tonight we're going out to dinner and to see a water puppet show. Water puppets are a traditional art form in Viet Nam. Very excited!
Everything is going so well. I am so fucking happy here. Em dem, or, in English, peaceful. I have infinitely more to say about that, which I will do when I don't have to run out to a water puppets show.....
04 August 2008
Way To Normal
That's my sweetheart holding the umbrella! The album will be coming to a store near you on 30 September. (Go buy one and contribute a few cents to his paycheck :) Too bad I'll be missing the album release and everything....
More Vietnam news soon!
More Vietnam news soon!
03 August 2008
Day and Night Cafe
Morning of my second day in Hanoi, Vietnam. Today and yesterday, I woke up in my hotel, stumbled to the bathroom, and suddenly realized "Damn. I'm in Vietnam...." This epiphany has inevitably been followed by the realization that it's only 6:30 or 7 am. It seems I can't sleep any later than that, which is frustrating. Lately I've wanted to become a morning person, and it only took moving to Vietnam to complete the transition from night owl to early bird. I left my room before 8am this morning, walked a few blocks down to Day and Night Cafe and here I sit, enjoying peach iced tea, an oscillating fan, and free wifi.
Day and Night Cafe
Peach iced tea
view from my table
the cafe...more modern than most places here
Despite being pretty tired, my first day in Hanoi was perfect. I had arranged to meet this guy Keith, from my program, at 1pm. We were joined by Kevin, who had arrived at the hotel at the same time as I did the night before. I needed a meal--I'd barely eaten in the past 24 hours. Additionally, I had just taken a typhoid vaccine pill, which needs to be followed by food an hour after ingestion. I was relieved when we stumbled into a little open air restaurant, full of locals. To our good fortune, one of the men working there spoke enough English to translate the menu (which consisted of about 5 things) for us. I ended up with pho, a soup of light broth (made with some beef stock), rice noodles, basil, mint, and green onions. A moment to discuss the broth: A vegetarian for about 10 or 11 years now, I avoid meat-based broths in the States. But I've resigned myself to the pho broth because, well, I'd probably starve otherwise. Normally pho (aka "the meal that built a nation"--it's the national dish) is served with actual beef in it, but I managed to communicate "No beef! Just noodles!" to the super friendly, English-speaking server, who honored my request with a smile. I've had pho back home, but this pho was so much better. Lighter. And the broth was much less beefy (thankfully!). I quickly gobbled up the entire bowl of soup--noodles, broth, onions and all. And get this. My meal--the huge bowl of soup and a bottle of water--cost me 10,000 dong. With the exchange rate at 16,600 dong to a dollar, I paid about 65 cents for my lunch.
After lunch Kevin, Keith and I trekked a couple kilometers to the medical center at the Diplomatic Compound, where Kevin needed to get a couple vaccines. I love walking around a new city, but it is just so impossibly hot and humid here. We're several kilometers west of the Old Quarter, the tourist area and city center, so it's nice to be out in the "normal" city environment. On the way back from the clinic we stopped in a cafe for some "ca phe sua da" -iced coffee with sweet condensed milk. This stuff is the nectar of the gods. Espresso and sweet, thick, syrupy milk over ice......mmmmh! It's strong, and tastes like strong coffee ice cream (which is my favorite). I'm actually drinking one right now, having finished my iced peach tea.
Kevin and me
lake (cant recall the name....)
swan paddle boats on the lake
On the way home we also witnessed a little bike accident. It seemed that a child somehow got his shoe or something stuck in the gears or spokes of the bicycle his mom was driving. The child and his mother were screaming in the middle of the street. A police officer, in his Party uniform, rushed out to the middle of the big, busy intersection to help. He was followed by a skinny civilian, who ran to help with a sock full of tools. A mass of motorists accumulated around the scene--people stopping out of some combination of curiosity and eagerness to help--which in fact provided a protective barricade around the accident. The boy was eventually released from whatever hold the bike had on him, he and the bike were carried out of the intersection, and traffic resumed....
We arrived back at the hotel, rested for an hour (ie, I passed out and the boys had to come wake me up), and then went out for dinner. The area we're staying in isn't exactly the culinary center of Hanoi, and there aren't many restaurants nearby. We ended up walking blindly into a hole-in-the-wall joint (most places around here fit that description) that served just one dish. No choices. The establishment was staffed largely by young children--I'd say 9 or 10 years old. I assume it was a family-run restaurant, and the kids just helped out in the evenings, but I'm not accustomed to someone younger than my sister bringing my food. Actually, I can't say it was exactly my food. Because I didn't eat a single bite of it. The young boy brought us a plate of leaves (which looked as if they'd just been plucked from the tree outside), three small dishes of sauce, some rice paper, and a plate of mysterious strips of an unknown substance, covered in something that kind of looked like flour. He showed us how to take leaves and the "mystery food", roll them up in the rice paper and create a tight little spring roll. Kevin and Keith, brave souls that they are, dove in and started eating. I, assuming that the mysterious strip were some kind of meat, abstained, and busied myself trying to find in my phrasebook/dictionary what they could possibly be eating. I eventually came to the following conclusions. It was most likely some kind of pork, and was probably pork ear. Yes, pork ear. When I pieced together what I thought they were eating, I just started laughing. Kevin looked at me, concerned, and asked if he even wanted to know. I continued to laugh. Eventually Keith demanded I tell him....so I handed him the book and pointed to the listing for "ear" in the Vietnamese-English dictionary. The boys paused for a second, contemplating the possibility that they were eating pig ear, but then proceeded to make more spring rolls and keep eating. Kudos to them.
mystery meat
When it came time to pay, which is always a challenge given the exchange rate and the tendency to get lost in all the zeros, the young boy who was so graciously walking us through our meal devised an ingenious method to communicate how much we owed. He went and got some money, and put bills up to each item to indicate how much it cost. I doubt he frequently encounters the problem of showing a foreigner how much the bill is, so I was especially impressed at his resourcefulness and cleverness. No one else all day--even adults--had done that.
Keith admitted, though, that he wanted to get some crackers or something on the way home. Since I hadn't eaten (I'm already losing weight here) I seconded his plan. We each bought a fresh baguette (for less than thirty cents). Chomping on bread as we walked home, we spotted something that virtually saved me from collapse--a GROCERY STORE! (Anyone who knows me at all knows that grocery shopping is possibly my favorite thing in the world.)Actually, it was more of an "everything" store--food, notebooks, toiletries, dishes, toys, watches. I bought cheese (think American singles), a small bag of potato chips, some "snack mix", lotion, orange juice, a drinking glass, a spoon, and what turned out to be possibly the best yogurt I've ever tasted. Strawberry flavor, and creamy.... And my entire purchase was about 7 dollars. I continue to have reverse sticker shock every time I buy something.
Back at the hotel, we met David, another Fulbrighter who had just arrived. We talked with him for a while before I retired to my room, ate the rest of my bread, some cheese and yogurt, tried my luck with the "borrowed" internet and eventually fell asleep. Day one over.
A moment to describe the city. Hanoi is unlike anything I've ever seen. The traffic is chaotic, apparently lacking any rules of the road, motorbikes stacked with people and goods zooming between cars, buses and bicycles laden with vegetables or flowers, everyone honking continually to scold traffic offenses that I cannot distinguish.... If someone realizes he's going the wrong way, he'll simply turn his motorbike around and drive the wrong way down a street. Crossing a street is especially terrifying--you just step out into the aforementioned traffic, walk steadily and hope the motorists dodge you--and I only accomplished it with the help of Keith, who has been here for 3 days already. I've spotted a couple people laughing at us inept Americans trying to cross the street, and they have every right to do so. We look ridiculous.
traffic!
colourful buildings....
The streets are kind of dirty, and the sidewalks are crumbling. Telephone and electric wires hang low in thick, gathered bunches, almost creating a screen between the two sides of the streets. Every now and then a stray cat or dog wanders by. (In fact, an emaciated kitten just limped into the cafe. It has started raining and he most likes seeks a dry refuge. No one here seems to notice him, or his searching eyes, or his little bones jutting out. It's hard for me to deal with. I guess animal rights are a privilege of only developed nations.)
It's evident, even in Hanoi, that many people here are still very poor. Everyone works very hard, and often in poor conditions. Work done by machines in the US is done manually here--repairing roads, digging ditches. Near my hotel a building is being demolished. The men work on it all day in the heat, wearing ragged t-shirts and flip-flops. No helmets, gloves, steel-toed boots. Even children work hard, like the boy in the restaurant last night, or another young boy I saw squatting in motorbike repair shop, tediously cleaning small gears and bike parts, or the girl selling produce with her mother.
It's difficult to see some of these things. But the city is beautiful, with all its imperfections. And the people are shockingly generous and friendly, patient with our inability to speak Vietnamese. Children--and even some young adults--yell "Hi!" or "Hello!" when we walk by, flashing wide grins. We're always being stared at, but the glances are innocent and curious. The only Caucasian people I've seen in the part of the city are the Fulbrighters.
It feels both strange and strangely comfortable to be here, on the other side of the globe, almost in another world....
More photos soon. I'm having some trouble uploading them and I have go meet Kevin, Keith and David (where are the other 5 girls who are supposed to be in my program?) in 40 minutes, and I need to shower first....
Day and Night Cafe
Peach iced tea
view from my table
the cafe...more modern than most places hereDespite being pretty tired, my first day in Hanoi was perfect. I had arranged to meet this guy Keith, from my program, at 1pm. We were joined by Kevin, who had arrived at the hotel at the same time as I did the night before. I needed a meal--I'd barely eaten in the past 24 hours. Additionally, I had just taken a typhoid vaccine pill, which needs to be followed by food an hour after ingestion. I was relieved when we stumbled into a little open air restaurant, full of locals. To our good fortune, one of the men working there spoke enough English to translate the menu (which consisted of about 5 things) for us. I ended up with pho, a soup of light broth (made with some beef stock), rice noodles, basil, mint, and green onions. A moment to discuss the broth: A vegetarian for about 10 or 11 years now, I avoid meat-based broths in the States. But I've resigned myself to the pho broth because, well, I'd probably starve otherwise. Normally pho (aka "the meal that built a nation"--it's the national dish) is served with actual beef in it, but I managed to communicate "No beef! Just noodles!" to the super friendly, English-speaking server, who honored my request with a smile. I've had pho back home, but this pho was so much better. Lighter. And the broth was much less beefy (thankfully!). I quickly gobbled up the entire bowl of soup--noodles, broth, onions and all. And get this. My meal--the huge bowl of soup and a bottle of water--cost me 10,000 dong. With the exchange rate at 16,600 dong to a dollar, I paid about 65 cents for my lunch.
After lunch Kevin, Keith and I trekked a couple kilometers to the medical center at the Diplomatic Compound, where Kevin needed to get a couple vaccines. I love walking around a new city, but it is just so impossibly hot and humid here. We're several kilometers west of the Old Quarter, the tourist area and city center, so it's nice to be out in the "normal" city environment. On the way back from the clinic we stopped in a cafe for some "ca phe sua da" -iced coffee with sweet condensed milk. This stuff is the nectar of the gods. Espresso and sweet, thick, syrupy milk over ice......mmmmh! It's strong, and tastes like strong coffee ice cream (which is my favorite). I'm actually drinking one right now, having finished my iced peach tea.
Kevin and me
lake (cant recall the name....)
swan paddle boats on the lakeOn the way home we also witnessed a little bike accident. It seemed that a child somehow got his shoe or something stuck in the gears or spokes of the bicycle his mom was driving. The child and his mother were screaming in the middle of the street. A police officer, in his Party uniform, rushed out to the middle of the big, busy intersection to help. He was followed by a skinny civilian, who ran to help with a sock full of tools. A mass of motorists accumulated around the scene--people stopping out of some combination of curiosity and eagerness to help--which in fact provided a protective barricade around the accident. The boy was eventually released from whatever hold the bike had on him, he and the bike were carried out of the intersection, and traffic resumed....
We arrived back at the hotel, rested for an hour (ie, I passed out and the boys had to come wake me up), and then went out for dinner. The area we're staying in isn't exactly the culinary center of Hanoi, and there aren't many restaurants nearby. We ended up walking blindly into a hole-in-the-wall joint (most places around here fit that description) that served just one dish. No choices. The establishment was staffed largely by young children--I'd say 9 or 10 years old. I assume it was a family-run restaurant, and the kids just helped out in the evenings, but I'm not accustomed to someone younger than my sister bringing my food. Actually, I can't say it was exactly my food. Because I didn't eat a single bite of it. The young boy brought us a plate of leaves (which looked as if they'd just been plucked from the tree outside), three small dishes of sauce, some rice paper, and a plate of mysterious strips of an unknown substance, covered in something that kind of looked like flour. He showed us how to take leaves and the "mystery food", roll them up in the rice paper and create a tight little spring roll. Kevin and Keith, brave souls that they are, dove in and started eating. I, assuming that the mysterious strip were some kind of meat, abstained, and busied myself trying to find in my phrasebook/dictionary what they could possibly be eating. I eventually came to the following conclusions. It was most likely some kind of pork, and was probably pork ear. Yes, pork ear. When I pieced together what I thought they were eating, I just started laughing. Kevin looked at me, concerned, and asked if he even wanted to know. I continued to laugh. Eventually Keith demanded I tell him....so I handed him the book and pointed to the listing for "ear" in the Vietnamese-English dictionary. The boys paused for a second, contemplating the possibility that they were eating pig ear, but then proceeded to make more spring rolls and keep eating. Kudos to them.
mystery meatWhen it came time to pay, which is always a challenge given the exchange rate and the tendency to get lost in all the zeros, the young boy who was so graciously walking us through our meal devised an ingenious method to communicate how much we owed. He went and got some money, and put bills up to each item to indicate how much it cost. I doubt he frequently encounters the problem of showing a foreigner how much the bill is, so I was especially impressed at his resourcefulness and cleverness. No one else all day--even adults--had done that.
Keith admitted, though, that he wanted to get some crackers or something on the way home. Since I hadn't eaten (I'm already losing weight here) I seconded his plan. We each bought a fresh baguette (for less than thirty cents). Chomping on bread as we walked home, we spotted something that virtually saved me from collapse--a GROCERY STORE! (Anyone who knows me at all knows that grocery shopping is possibly my favorite thing in the world.)Actually, it was more of an "everything" store--food, notebooks, toiletries, dishes, toys, watches. I bought cheese (think American singles), a small bag of potato chips, some "snack mix", lotion, orange juice, a drinking glass, a spoon, and what turned out to be possibly the best yogurt I've ever tasted. Strawberry flavor, and creamy.... And my entire purchase was about 7 dollars. I continue to have reverse sticker shock every time I buy something.
Back at the hotel, we met David, another Fulbrighter who had just arrived. We talked with him for a while before I retired to my room, ate the rest of my bread, some cheese and yogurt, tried my luck with the "borrowed" internet and eventually fell asleep. Day one over.
A moment to describe the city. Hanoi is unlike anything I've ever seen. The traffic is chaotic, apparently lacking any rules of the road, motorbikes stacked with people and goods zooming between cars, buses and bicycles laden with vegetables or flowers, everyone honking continually to scold traffic offenses that I cannot distinguish.... If someone realizes he's going the wrong way, he'll simply turn his motorbike around and drive the wrong way down a street. Crossing a street is especially terrifying--you just step out into the aforementioned traffic, walk steadily and hope the motorists dodge you--and I only accomplished it with the help of Keith, who has been here for 3 days already. I've spotted a couple people laughing at us inept Americans trying to cross the street, and they have every right to do so. We look ridiculous.
traffic!
colourful buildings....
The streets are kind of dirty, and the sidewalks are crumbling. Telephone and electric wires hang low in thick, gathered bunches, almost creating a screen between the two sides of the streets. Every now and then a stray cat or dog wanders by. (In fact, an emaciated kitten just limped into the cafe. It has started raining and he most likes seeks a dry refuge. No one here seems to notice him, or his searching eyes, or his little bones jutting out. It's hard for me to deal with. I guess animal rights are a privilege of only developed nations.)
It's evident, even in Hanoi, that many people here are still very poor. Everyone works very hard, and often in poor conditions. Work done by machines in the US is done manually here--repairing roads, digging ditches. Near my hotel a building is being demolished. The men work on it all day in the heat, wearing ragged t-shirts and flip-flops. No helmets, gloves, steel-toed boots. Even children work hard, like the boy in the restaurant last night, or another young boy I saw squatting in motorbike repair shop, tediously cleaning small gears and bike parts, or the girl selling produce with her mother.
It's difficult to see some of these things. But the city is beautiful, with all its imperfections. And the people are shockingly generous and friendly, patient with our inability to speak Vietnamese. Children--and even some young adults--yell "Hi!" or "Hello!" when we walk by, flashing wide grins. We're always being stared at, but the glances are innocent and curious. The only Caucasian people I've seen in the part of the city are the Fulbrighters.
It feels both strange and strangely comfortable to be here, on the other side of the globe, almost in another world....
More photos soon. I'm having some trouble uploading them and I have go meet Kevin, Keith and David (where are the other 5 girls who are supposed to be in my program?) in 40 minutes, and I need to shower first....
02 August 2008
Hello, Viet Nam.
Just a quick note to say that I'm safely in my hotel in Hanoi. I'm using "borrowed" wifi, so the connection is poor, but I think the girl at the hotel desk said that they will be getting internet in five days. I'm really wishing I'd learned more Vietnamese before I got here.
The day, albeit long (I got up about 34 hours ago), could not have gone more smoothly. I concentrated/meditated/prayed for "acceptance" during this journey--accepting whatever might happen, good or bad, and just going with it--and it seems to have helped. Not that anything especially bad happened. I did leave my scarf on my last flight, but a lady working at the airport got it back for me. My cab driver did have to stop three times for directions to my hotel, but I had plenty of faith in him and he ultimately got me here in one piece (an outcome that seemed questionable at times!). The Vietnamese are so generously friendly. Another Fulbright-er arrived at the hotel at the same time as I did, too! I could have hardly asked for a better day of international travel.
The hotel isn't the Hilton--or even the Holiday Inn for that matter--but I'm comfortable and just happy to be here. Arriving in a new city is such a magical moment....
The day, albeit long (I got up about 34 hours ago), could not have gone more smoothly. I concentrated/meditated/prayed for "acceptance" during this journey--accepting whatever might happen, good or bad, and just going with it--and it seems to have helped. Not that anything especially bad happened. I did leave my scarf on my last flight, but a lady working at the airport got it back for me. My cab driver did have to stop three times for directions to my hotel, but I had plenty of faith in him and he ultimately got me here in one piece (an outcome that seemed questionable at times!). The Vietnamese are so generously friendly. Another Fulbright-er arrived at the hotel at the same time as I did, too! I could have hardly asked for a better day of international travel.
The hotel isn't the Hilton--or even the Holiday Inn for that matter--but I'm comfortable and just happy to be here. Arriving in a new city is such a magical moment....
01 August 2008
Hello, Japan.
When I first saw Japanese land outside of my plane window, all I could think was "Hello, Japan." and smile to myself. For some reason, it made me so happy to see the perfectly ordered fields, with their right angles and varying shades of green. To see a new place, so full of secrets and surprises. Plus, I'd been on a plane for 13 hours and I was ready to get off. Even it it meant a 5 hour lay-over in Tokyo.
My first flight left LEX at 6:00am this morning, which meant a 3:45 alarm so I could quickly shower, go over my checklist, have some coffee and throw my bags in the car. Mom and Sam took me to the airport, where I was reminded just how easy it is to fly out of LEX. No lines anywhere! I hugged mom and Sam goodbye. He and I had agreed to have a "happy" goodbye, which I managed. (Mom didn't join that pact :)) But as soon as I swept through security and stepped on the escalator, out of sight from him, the floodgates broke.... I sat in a corner at gate 39 and cried until I got onto the plane.
I remember a family friend, who also went overseas to teach when she was young, told me that she cried the whole way there (I don't remember where she went exactly--Germany, I think), but as soon as she got arrived she was so happy. I'm betting on the same evolution of emotion for myself.
I slept for most of the flight to Dallas, though, and had a nice layover there (where I enjoyed what will probably be my last "everything" bagel for a year or so). Read the Obama edition of Rolling Stone (man, he is soooo dreamy). While waiting to board I noticed an intriguing group of Spanish-speaking men, some of whom were carrying nice video cameras. Hoping that I might get to sit next to one of them and break out the old Spanish (the only use it's gotten lately is in dreams), I ended up with a quiet Japanese man as my neighbor. He was plenty nice, but with the language barrier we kept to ourselves unless I needed to go to the bathroom. I guess I slept quite a bit since I don't really recall being awake that much. (I really needed some shut eye--I only slept for about 3 hours last night.) Through some probably inappropriate staring, I eventually realized that the men I'd noticed at the gate were a TV crew for a Chilean television station...... I always kind of have this hope that I'm going to sit next to someone really interesting on a flight--like a Chilean camera man. Or someone who could possibly change my life. (I know a girl who met a man on a flight who offered her a great job in the city where her boyfriend lived.) Or someone who could tell me about their life's travels. But that didn't happen today, at least. Not today, on a day when I really needed some human connection, and when I suddenly remembered the silence that accompanies traveling solo--not talking to anyone for days at a time, other than to ask or answer a basic question.
I love traveling alone. And normally I love that silence. But I was sitting alone, kind of sad, by a stranger on a 13-hour flight to Tokyo thinking "How in the hell did I get here?". And I could have really used a conversation.
Luckily, when I arrived at the airport in Tokyo (where everyone is SO nice), I was able to pay 500 yen (5 dollars) for a day internet pass. Normally I would never pay for wifi at an airport, but I have a long layover here, I've had a long day already, I'm exhausted, and I still have at least 10 hours of total travel time ahead of me. So I decided to buy myself some damn internet access. And to my good fortune, I was able to talk to Sam on Skype. See his face, hear his voice, talk to him about my day. Just what I needed to get me through this last leg of my long journey today.
Well, I also need some food. Sam (who was here in Tokyo at this airport just last week) tells me there are some great noodles at a cafe down the hall. Off I go, then, in search of noodles. And something cold to drink. And a chair in which to prop up my swollen feet.
I'll be in Viet Nam before I know it....and I'm going pass out in my hotel, get a good night's sleep, and start exploring Hanoi tomorrow. What a life.
My first flight left LEX at 6:00am this morning, which meant a 3:45 alarm so I could quickly shower, go over my checklist, have some coffee and throw my bags in the car. Mom and Sam took me to the airport, where I was reminded just how easy it is to fly out of LEX. No lines anywhere! I hugged mom and Sam goodbye. He and I had agreed to have a "happy" goodbye, which I managed. (Mom didn't join that pact :)) But as soon as I swept through security and stepped on the escalator, out of sight from him, the floodgates broke.... I sat in a corner at gate 39 and cried until I got onto the plane.
I remember a family friend, who also went overseas to teach when she was young, told me that she cried the whole way there (I don't remember where she went exactly--Germany, I think), but as soon as she got arrived she was so happy. I'm betting on the same evolution of emotion for myself.
I slept for most of the flight to Dallas, though, and had a nice layover there (where I enjoyed what will probably be my last "everything" bagel for a year or so). Read the Obama edition of Rolling Stone (man, he is soooo dreamy). While waiting to board I noticed an intriguing group of Spanish-speaking men, some of whom were carrying nice video cameras. Hoping that I might get to sit next to one of them and break out the old Spanish (the only use it's gotten lately is in dreams), I ended up with a quiet Japanese man as my neighbor. He was plenty nice, but with the language barrier we kept to ourselves unless I needed to go to the bathroom. I guess I slept quite a bit since I don't really recall being awake that much. (I really needed some shut eye--I only slept for about 3 hours last night.) Through some probably inappropriate staring, I eventually realized that the men I'd noticed at the gate were a TV crew for a Chilean television station...... I always kind of have this hope that I'm going to sit next to someone really interesting on a flight--like a Chilean camera man. Or someone who could possibly change my life. (I know a girl who met a man on a flight who offered her a great job in the city where her boyfriend lived.) Or someone who could tell me about their life's travels. But that didn't happen today, at least. Not today, on a day when I really needed some human connection, and when I suddenly remembered the silence that accompanies traveling solo--not talking to anyone for days at a time, other than to ask or answer a basic question.
I love traveling alone. And normally I love that silence. But I was sitting alone, kind of sad, by a stranger on a 13-hour flight to Tokyo thinking "How in the hell did I get here?". And I could have really used a conversation.
Luckily, when I arrived at the airport in Tokyo (where everyone is SO nice), I was able to pay 500 yen (5 dollars) for a day internet pass. Normally I would never pay for wifi at an airport, but I have a long layover here, I've had a long day already, I'm exhausted, and I still have at least 10 hours of total travel time ahead of me. So I decided to buy myself some damn internet access. And to my good fortune, I was able to talk to Sam on Skype. See his face, hear his voice, talk to him about my day. Just what I needed to get me through this last leg of my long journey today.
Well, I also need some food. Sam (who was here in Tokyo at this airport just last week) tells me there are some great noodles at a cafe down the hall. Off I go, then, in search of noodles. And something cold to drink. And a chair in which to prop up my swollen feet.
I'll be in Viet Nam before I know it....and I'm going pass out in my hotel, get a good night's sleep, and start exploring Hanoi tomorrow. What a life.
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