Changing of the seasons

I've heralded the start of monsoon season before, but I think it's for real this time. The fact has been confirmed by multiple locals, including Monsieur Banana. And it feels like a true change of season, like summer morphing into fall back in the States. And I couldn't be happier about it. I have been craving fall and winter--I miss cold seasons almost more than I miss anything else. And even though it's not cold here by any means, the variation in temperature and weather is satiating my autumnal needs.

On Wednesday morning I awoke to torrential rains. By the time I left for class, though, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Walking to the classroom building, I was actually cold. I had chill bumps even! And everything was so beautiful....the sky was gray, the water was gray, the clouds were gray. Looking out over the sea, I couldn't even make out Hon Do Island or the surrounding mountains, as both were shrouded in a dense fog. There was only an expansive grayness, a monochrome abyss whose depth and nature seemed unknowable....Even in the rain, this place takes on an alternative beauty, so different from the appeal of beachy, sunny days.

During class, the rain started up again. The students were doing more presentations. For a second I drifted into a daydream--no, not a daydream, almost a trance, induced by the pattering of the rain and the rhythmic echo of the gong from Hon Do Island...another moment where I could barely understand my good fortune, or how my life could be so wonderful...

This change of weather is proving quite beneficial to my spirits, not that they were low. But it feels good to have something other than the intense sun, the humidity, the relentless heat. It's helping me cope with a climate that varies little over the course of the year. Even this mild drop in temperature, though--it's still in the 80s--is kicking my body into autumn/winter mode. I'm finding myself craving lattes and pumpkin bread and hot tea and barley soup. All things cold weather and cozy. So far I've replaced them with a hot bowl of pho and a fresh demi-baguette. But if/when I cave and buy the hot water maker, coffee and tea will also be possibilities!

The rain has also been beneficial for my productivity level. It's keeping me from the beach, and at my desk, working, instead. Plus, I'm always more productive in the winters--this time last year I was taking an overloaded course-schedule (for no reason other than masochism), training for a half marathon, learning French, (trying) to learn the guitar, and taking up yoga. And this week has been an especially good one to increase my output. I've been very busy with classes (including some new ones), planning the English club, studying Vietnamese, planning stuff for Sam's visit, and being the go-between for students and profs here, and the consulate in HCMC, about a scholarship opportunity for Vietnamese undergrads.

Next week, though, will be a breeze. A foreign company is coming to the University to do all these workshops for the faculty, so most (if not all) of my classes are canceled. But I'm working for it--English club prep today, an all-day workshop tomorrow, English club Sunday morning, workshop and class on Monday. Then, on Tuesday, Sam comes....

I'll kind of miss my classes though. They're so entertaining sometimes. On Tuesday, for example, in my listening class, the students were sharing with their classmates what English-language programs they'd been listening to. One student raised her hand, and when I came to her desk, she pointed at her notebook and said, "Teacher, we don't understand this news story". It said something like "Michigan man arrested for lewd behavior. So-and-so was charged with indecent exposure for trying to solicit sexual favors from a vacuum at a drive-through car wash." I laughed and tried to figure out the best way to explain this to my students who, I assume, are lacking in sexual education and/or experience. Plus, I needed to explain this to a group of 3 girls and 1 boy, and the mixed company only increased the awkwardness. I decided to just explain the details of the vacuum cleaner, and eventually the boy understood and started laughing too. I let him explain everything to the three girls.

Wednesday afternoon found me at a new nail shop with Lien, who is quickly becoming one of my better friends here. The nail shop was a bit further away (we went by motorbike! Yay!), and was owned by a friend of Lien's who apparently worked for "a famous nailshop in Ho Chi Minh City." Despite her elite nail design background, her rates were lower than the other (not as nice) nail shop we went to last time. For 15,000 dong I got a nice french manicure and some little flowers on my toes. The latter were a big hit with the other girls in my building; Hong (who lives upstairs) even took a photo of my toes with her cell phone so she could ask for the same design next time she goes to a nail shop! I didn't think it would happen, but I'm becoming a fan of the toenails with simple white flowers.

Thursday also involved an exciting outing. I was supposed to have class at 2:40, but when Lan Anh (who I co-teach with) came to pick me up for class, she said "I have an idea! Why don't we cut the class and go to the institute to get your vaccine?" A little backstory: I had asked my boss, Ms Hong, how I could get a Japanese Encephalitis vaccine. I didn't get it in the states, for several reasons, and Sam has been freaking out about the possibility of me catching the disease. He might be overly-concerned but he's at least right that I need to get the vaccine. Ms. Hong had delegated the task of helping me get the vaccine to Lan Anh, and apparently she decided that Thursday during classtime would be the best opportunity since the Institute (the Pasteur Institute) wouldn't be as busy. So, after informing the class that today's lesson would be cancelled, we drove off on her motorbike to the Pasteur Institute.

When we arrived, and went into the lobby to ask about my getting the vaccine, the man informed us that I couldn't get the vaccine since I'm 22. He explained that they only vaccinate children under 15, because over that age it's uncommon to be infected with Japanese Encephalitis. I tried to explain to him (through Lan Anh, who was translating) that the CDC said otherwise, that my 24 year-old friend got the vaccine in Hanoi two months ago, and that I needed the shot. He was polite, but didn't seem interested in helping us come up with any creative solutions for my problem. The situation seemed bleak. We decided to ask another female clerk if there was anywhere else in the city where I could get the vaccine. Thankfully, this woman was much more helpful. She simply got up and went and talked to the doctor about my situation. Problem solved. I just needed to go talk to the doctor and answer a few questions about my medical history. I was even rushed to the front of the line (at least 50 people were waiting). I asked Lan Anh why I was getting to go before all these people who had been waiting. She explained that they just give priority to foreigners. This made me feel a little uncomfortable, a little guilty--it seemed a little unfair that I, an outsider, especially an American, would get better treatment. It's definitely not the first time I've received special treatment here, but it's making me increasingly uncomfortable sometimes. Lan Anh assured me not to worry, that as a culture the Vietnamese are just very hospital.

When I went into the doctor's office, another Vietnamese woman came in with me. So much for doctor-patient confidentiality. Of course, the other woman didn't speak English, so it wasn't a big deal. And I wouldn't have cared anyway. I was just a little thrown off by the different medical protocol. The doctor spoke good English, which I wasn't expecting. Lan Anh didn't have to translate a single word. He asked me if I had any problems with vaccines in the past, if I was healthy, etc. He said that in Vietnam they only immunize children, but since I "come from Europe" I "must be vaccinated". I still dont exactly understand--maybe Vietnamese people are less resistant to the Japanese Encephalitis or something? Either way, he approved me to get the vaccine and I off I went to pay, back to the desk with the same man who had earlier refused me. I had brought over 1,000,000 dong with me, because I didn't know how much the vaccine would cost. I was shocked when the woman told me how much to pay, though--40,000 dong. I thought I heard her wrong, and asked Lan Anh to be sure. I was right. 40,000 dong. That's $2.42. In America the same shot was going to cost me $180. And in Hanoi, at the western Family Medical Practice, it would have cost me $45. I realized I should have waited to get all my vaccines here!

After paying, I went into the room where I would get the shot. I found three young female nurses just hanging out--much like the young women I saw hanging out in the nailshop when I had gone the day before. I suddenly felt very nervous. The women looked young. Had they received proper training? Any training? Would they give me the correct vaccine? My body began to tense up, my heart quickened. As I'm aging I'm finding myself getting worse about things like shots, anyway, and at an Institute in Vietnam, where I couldn't read anything, couldn't ask questions on my own, I felt especially uneasy. I tried to calm down--I didn't want to pass out after the shot or anything. I attempted to monitor everything--I watched to make sure the nurse took the vaccine out of a properly working fridge, I made sure she opened a new needle. Everything seemed fine, even though I seem to recall that the woman didn't wear gloves. And the shot barely hurt! The least painful vaccine I've ever gotten, in fact. And today my arm isn't even sore! But the whole ordeal made me realize that I absolutely do not want to end up in a Vietnamese hospital.

Even with the initial complication, the whole vaccine ordeal took less than half an hour. I think they should have had me stay 15 minutes after the shot to make sure I didn't go into seizures--the vaccine itself can have some nasty side effects--but clearly I survived without ill effect. Lan Anh then took me to the figure out how to take the bus to the airport on Tuesday to pick up Sammy. It will be a bit complicated but at 40,000 dong I can't complain--the only other alternative is a taxi at 180,000 dong. It's times like these when I remember that I'm in a developing country with rather undeveloped infrastructure. I easily got to many airports, in many European cities, even ones that I'd never been to before, or ones where I didn't speak the language, using the bus or the metro. It's not quite as simple or easy here... I have to somehow get to the old airport, which is in the city, then wait to catch a bus to the new airport, ride 45 minutes to said airport, wait an hour for Sam to arrive (assuming his flight is on time, which is a questionable assumption), then wait for another bus to take us back to the old airport, then finally take a taxi to the hotel. Not the biggest deal in the world but a little labor-intensive.

The old airport, by the way, is intensely shady. There are all these military people, guards, prohibited areas...and then there's this really nice restaurant where, apparently, people have weddings. The place has got to be a front for something! And if it's not, it would make a great place to shoot a film.

After the market Lan Anh offered to take me to the Dam market, a famous market in the city that I've yet to visit. We first stopped by her house so she could change out of her work clothes. Turns out she lives, literally, right around the corner from one of our favorite vegetarian places. I met her younger brother and saw photos of her parents (her father is a retired cop, her mom in OB-GYN) before we headed off again. I love going to people's homes here--it feels so good to be back in a proper home...

While riding to the market, asking Lan Anh about her mother's work and listening to her explain why her family only had 2 children (to differentiate white collar families from laboring families, apparently), I stepped out on a limb and started to ask Lan Anh about birth control in Vietnam. I'm really interested in sexuality and reproductive rights here, but I still dont know what's appropriate to ask, and what isn't. She explained to me that birth control pills are very common among "white collar" families, but that blue collar families don't have education about these sorts of things. (And/or the access to these things, I assume.) I asked her about cost, as well, since that could prevent many women from using the pill, but she said that it is pretty cheap. "Everything is cheap here!" she added. In addition to my own sheer curiosity about this stuff, it's good practical information as well. Especially if I stay another year and can't get my own ob-gyn to secretly slide me another year's worth of free sample pills!

The market was full of overpriced stuff, souvenirs, and tourists. Not my fav, although I did eye some nice pearls from a guy who quoted me normal, reasonable prices. Lan Anh treated me to some delicious rice cakes with egg, dipped in a sauce of onions and chives, and a smoothie before we headed back home. I had borrowed another teacher's motorbike helmet and the woman needed it to drive home, so we had to rush back....But it was such a serendipitously wonderful afternoon, and a productive one, as well. And I'm so happy to be making good friendships with some Vietnamese girls. It's hard to develop strong friendships here--I mean the ones where you can sit and talk for hours, the ones where you bond over shared ideas and discussion--because of the language barrier, but it would be a tragedy for me to leave this place without having made some wonderful friendships.

Later in the evening, while Katherine and I were drinking bubble tea at our favorite bubble tea joint, Cactus, we saw a female dog nursing a kitten. Talk about peaceful coexistence!

Today has been super rainy. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy rain. I love waking up to that sound. Unforunately when I woke up again at 8, to go the market, I heard the same sound. No market for us today. I think this might be the beginning of the Monsoon Diet, a new fad that's all the rage in Southeast Asia! When it's raining so much I just don't even want to go out for food sometimes. I ate a mango for breakfast and luckily, around 11:30, it stopped raining enough for us to go get some pho at our new favorite noodle place on the corrner. At 5,000 dong a bowl, it's the cheapest meal around. And with the onslaught of the rainy season, which I am calling "winter" to satisify my own seasonal needs, it's cool enough outside to tolerate--and even want!--a steaming bowl of soup.

It rained all afternoon, though, even through our 3 and a half hour English club meeting/rehearsal. We had to wear our heavy-duty ponchos while we biked into town tonight, as well. We met Lene and Maiken for one last dinner before they fly back to Tromso tomorrow. Another goodbye. I'm really sad to see them go. I loved spending time with them. And as much I as love being the lone white girl, it's nice to have the company of more English speakers with whom you can just have a normal conversation. They invited us to Norway, an offer I'd love to take advantage of but I dont see it happening any time soon, unfortunately. I do hope I see them again, though. It's really not a total impossibility. I'll be in Europe again and they'll probably be in America again at some point. Lene might even be back teaching here next year, and there's an even greater chance I'll still be here again next year. You just never know. The universe works in such mysterious ways.

Tomorrow will start with a workshop on lesson planning at 7:30 am. Not my ideal way to spend a saturday but I can't imagine it will be too bad. Even if it's miserably dull I can entertain myself in my head. :) There's plenty of stuff to daydream about: the leaves changing, roasted pumpkin seeds, Thanksgiving with my grandfather, cozy oversized sweaters, a warm fireplace, my favorite restaurants, going out dancing on 80s night at the dame, the concerts of one of my favorite bands, who I learned today will be playing in Lexington, Louisville and Nashville (of course they wait to play so close until I'm in Asia!). Even the worst stuff here, in my experience, isn't intolerable. And if it approach such a level, I can always just look out the window, to the sea, and everything instantly becomes so much better.


Currently (still) listening: Changing of the Seasons, by Ane Brun, which I haven't turned off since buying.