Dry spell, sink repairs, first classes and a bike ride

The rain gods have shown some mercy! Yesterday morning and afternoon brought only light rain, although the evening was pretty soaked. And today it hasn’t rained at all! There might be hope, after all.

The lack of rain has made for a couple of busy days. Katherine (who, by the way, brought me breakfast for the second time yesterday morning—see below!) and I took advantage of the mild weather on Tuesday to take the 5 into town, go to a favorite bakery, stop at the “super”market, and get bubble tea. It started pouring at one point, but by that time we were waiting at a covered bus stop and we didn’t mind the rain. In our evening venture for dinner, at which point the rains were heavy, I began to realize that the expensive “waterproof” Northface slicker I bought back home isn’t really that waterproof. I’m considering trading it in for a full-length, heavy duty poncho.

Breakfast! Wrapped up in a banana leaf....

...with corn, peanuts, some myserterious white grain, and shredded coconut. Delicious! and only 2000 d, or 12 cents.

I did invest (about $7!) in a pair of knock-off Chaco sandals to help me survive the rainy season. They’re waterproof and have a top and back strap to make sure I don’t lose a sandal in a rush of rainwater (a real possibility, my frieds). Flip flops just slide around in the mud and flip water and dirt onto the backs of my legs. Somehow, though, the locals manage to wear them in the rains and stay squeaky clean. It’s beyond me.

This morning I had planned to sleep in, but I woke up suddenly at 7:30 and remembered that I had an 8am meeting. Lucky for me! I had totally forgotten about the meeting otherwise. While I was walking to the meeting, a teacher on a motorbike who I’d never met, but who knew my name nonetheless, stopped me. She started talking to me about books for the pronunciation class that I was team-teaching with her. But, like I said, I’d never met her, and furthermore I’d never heard a thing about this pronunciation class. She finally realized I was confused. I explained the class wasn’t on my schedule and I didn’t know anything about it, and she, now confused herself, got my email and mobile number and said she’d get back to me.

I went on to my meeting, with Ms. Lan Anh, one of the teachers I’m team-teaching with. We reviewed the lesson plan for tomorrow’s class, which was strangely exciting for me. She’s young—only 24—but just from the meeting today it seems that’s she’s a very good teacher. And, luckily for me, she gets the concept of “team teaching”. She’s giving me responsibilities but isn’t abandoning me to teach the course. As a Fulbright ETA, I’m not allowed to teach classes by myself but only work as a TA. Despite this rule, several other Fulbrighters have been thrown into a full course of load of classes that they’re expected to teach alone. I’m feeling fortunate that everyone at my university understands what my role is. I thus avoid the awkward situation of having to contact Fulbright, have them remedy the situation, and in doing so probably step on the toes of several of my university higher-ups.

As I was leaving the rather successful meeting with Lan Anh, Ms. Hong, my boss, flagged me down. I’m team teaching a listening class with her, and we talked about that for a while. I also asked her about this mysterious pronunciation class I’d just heard about. “Oh! Yes, I forgot!” was her primary response. Such is life here, and I’m totally fine with it so far. She wasn’t sure if there would be enough students for the class, which is why she didn’t talk to me about it before. Now, though, it’s looking like this class will happen after all. I was happy to take on another class-that’s what I’m here for—but I was a little disappointed that it met Mondays and the last two periods on Friday afternoons. I was looking forward to having Friday afternoons off to travel, and, after October 18th when my Friday class ends, taking long weekends to travel. Feeling bad for increasing my work load, and at the last minute, Ms. Hong said it was ok if I missed some Friday classes as long as I went to the Monday sessions. Plus, the new class stops meeting on October 29th, which would still leave all of November for long weekends. Sounds just fine to me! And I think Ms. Hong was really pleased that I agreed to take on another class. It’s just not a big deal to me—I’m here to help.

Given the “dry spell”, I decided to go out to find lunch (as opposed to eating whatever fruit, carrots, and crackers I had lying around). While I was walking, the French-speaking, banana treat-selling man intercepted me. Warmly greeting me in French and shaking my hand as usual, he decided that I needed to sit down and talk to him for a while. He grabbed my wrist, pulled me over to a little plastic stool, sat me down, and gave me a banana treat on the house, and quizzed me in French about all my biographical information that I’d told him multiple times before. This man continues to be a highlight in my days here. He’s missing most of this teeth, hard to understand in all of the three languages we use (English, French, and Vietnamese), but he’s so genuine and generous. He’s always sincerely happy to see Katherine and me—we patronize him nearly every evening—and he’s taken to giving us free bananas. The things cost 6 cents, so they’re pratically free anyway, but to him that 6 cents is a big deal.

After lunch, our friend Tu stopped by. I realized that I should have him help me with the sink problem I’m having—my sink was falling out of the wall, and I was terrified that it was going to fall and crush my feet one morning while I was sleepily brushing my teeth. There was no way I could communicate this to the house manager, so I got Tu translate for me. I figured getting the sink fixed would take days, or weeks—especially since I’ve mentioned the problem to International Relations director, and even pointed out the dangling sink to the house manager once before. To my astonishment, though, the house manager was actually doing repairs in another room on the floor and had the tools—and several guys to help—on hand.

The method of repair, though, was not what I expected. First, Tu and the house manager took the sink of the wall and pulled out the flimsy brackets. I assumed that they would just drill new holes and rehang the brackets, but I was hoping they’d fill the old holes to prevent ants coming in. Then, when Tu indicated that the house manager needed to break up some chopsticks of mine, I thought he was using them to just fill the holes. He rammed the chopsticks into the holes, hammered them firmly, and then broke off the remaining wood. To my surprise, though, he then re-fastened the brackets into the old holes, which were now stuffed with wood. He had merely used the chopsticks to create more firm braces for the sink brackets. I questioned the structural integrity of this plan at first, but now the sink seems steady. Pretty damned creative and resourceful, if you ask me. The only problem now is that the sink sticks out too far and the bathroom door gets stuck when I try to shut it. So goes life in Vietnam. :)

Tu and the house manager fixing my sink....

The house manager using chopsticks to re-hang my sink.

The sink was fixed just in time for me to leave for my first class this afternoon! Miss Ha, also at the ripe age of 24, picked me up on her motorbike to take me to the classroom building, the location of which I didn’t know. She had warned me that the class was all boys who were “very excited” to meet me, and she was right. I walked into a room with 51 boys—some a bit older than me—who were giddy at my arrival. I even caught some of them taking pictures of me with their mobiles. Miss Ha, who seems to pride herself on her laid-back classroom atmosphere, stood me in front of the 51 young men and opened up the floor for questions. She didn’t introduce me but forced the students to generate questions for me in English. A great idea, in theory. The questions, though, quickly degenerated into whether or not I was married—this is a standard question here in Vietnam, but it took on an especially awkward feeling in this setting. The very worst though—and I should have expected this—was a request from one student for me to sing a song. Also a standard question in this country. I quickly flashed back to Dien Bien Phu, where all the Fulbrighters were asked to sing a song on the spot for an audience of students, teachers, administrators, and even a comrade who had basically been sent to “police” us. We had pulled off a rendition of “Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes”, and, today, while standing in front of a room of my male peers/pupils, it was this children’s song that I fell back on. I sang it once, entirely mortified, and then made them sing along. I seemed to make up for my musical (in)ability, though, by spitting out a couple sentences in Vietnamese, which earned me an uproarious applause. All said, the class went really well, I think. Miss Lan Anh dismissed my boss’s suggestion that I just observe for the first day, and we kind of winged my participation in the day’s lesson.

While we had a break during the class, Lan Anh took me to the teacher’s room. From the window of the room, I saw a beautiful, old, stone building, draped in ivy and vines and nestled into a lush hillside. I asked Lan Anh what it was, and she told me it was the teacher dormitory, and that she, in fact, lived there. I then noticed a cross on the top of the building, and it all made sense—the building was part of the old French convent that was later converted into the university (back in the 70s when the government confiscated all church property). The building is absolutely beautiful—it looks like something from the 18th century. I hear it lacks basic amenities like running water, so I think the comparison actually extends further than the exterior appearance. The locals don’t seem to appreciate the aesthetics of the building, though: It’s made of stone and, traditionally, the only Vietnamese buildings made of stone are prisons.
Satifisfied with my first class, I embarked on my next adventure for the day—a bike ride into town with Katherine to have dinner at a vegetarian restaurant. Yes, a bike ride! Today was overcast, but it didn’t rain all day and the clouds hovered in dramatic hues over the tips the surrounding mountains. Absolutely stunning. And it was such a beautiful evening, not hot at all with the clouds and a light breeze. Additionally, the ride into town is really quite pleasant—the road runs right along the beach. I was so happy to finally get some use out of my bike (other than as a drying rack)!

the view from the bridge while biking into town...

the lit-up structure in the middle there is the Po Nagar Cham tower

on the main street in in the city

We easily found the vegetarian place, and for under 2 dollars combined, we enjoyed a small feast. We each had a large plate of rice, vegetables, varieties of tofu and spring rolls, a small bowl of vegetable soup for each of us, and we split a larger bowl of vermicelli soup. Cold green tea was included. Impressive, right? The food was incredible—Sam, I can’t wait to take you here!—and the ride down there was equally amazing.

inside Au Lac vegetarian restaurant

a feast for two!

After dinner we decided to stop at pharmacy. Katherine has developed a strange rash on her face and she wanted to have it looked at. We rode our bikes down the street to a pharmacy we knew, and I watched the bikes as she went to the counter to get medicine. Here’s how it went down:

(We pull up to the pharmacy. Katherine gets off her bike.)
K: So, do you know how to say “itchy rash” in Vietnamese?
M: Hm…no, sorry.
(She goes to the counter anyway. 5 minutes later, she comes back to the bikes, having purchased some cream.)
M: Did you get some medicine for it?
K: Yeah. They gave me a cream for eczema or skin lesions or something.
M: Great!
K: Yeah, I thought this would be better than the genital herpes medicine they offered me.
(We both laugh so hard that we can’t pedal our bikes and have to stop.)

We’ll see how the cream works, I guess!

We also stopped at Maximark so that I could buy an extension cord. When I came home from my class today, I’d found that Steve had bought a lamp for me. It was hanging on my door knob in plastic bag (just like my breakfast was yesterday!). He and I were both looking for a non-florescent lamp for our rooms, and I guess he found them. He is really so generous—I’m currently using his bike helmet, as well, since I don’t have one yet and he generally rides his motorbike.


After a quick stop at the bakery, Katherine and I mounted our bikes for the trip home. While I was pedaling down the street, a man drove by on his motorbike and yelled to me in stunningly good English, “Hello! Welcome to my city!”. He smiled, and the two little girls on the back of the back waved. He slowed down so that I caught up with him, and proceeded to start a conversation with me. There I was, riding a bike in traffic for the first time, dodging vans, cars, and motorbikes, and trying to maintain a conversation with this guy. Only in Vietnam! Luckily his English was nearly perfect, and he understood everything I said despite the traffic noise around us. It turns out he’s a tour guide in the city, and that he lives right by the university. When it came time to part ways, he said that he hoped he’d meet me again. And, knowing the magic of Vietnam, he probably will.

Back home, Katherine and I took our bikes back up to our rooms and headed out for a banana treat. I decided to take a present for the man, and opted for one of the several hats I got from the owner of the bike shop. Just passing along the generosity. That's one thing I'm really noticing changing in myself--an increased impulse to be generous. Everyone here is just sooo disproportionately generous, considering what they have, and I dont see how anyone could be here for long without feeling themselves more compelled to give, as well. So I gave the hat. And I'm doing other things, as well, that I'm keeping as my own little secrets.

I like how I am here. Happy, rested, informed, multilingual, flexible, patient, open, calmer, more tolerant of insects, reading more, increasingly generous and decreasingly dependent on the excess energy I consume as an American. What scares me about returning to my "American life" is the possibility of losing all this....