Ok.

It's been a hard week. I'm ready to go back here.




(And I didn't even photograph the phosphorescent plankton.
I did photograph other things, though. )

Robbery #2

While I was getting ready for work this morning, there was a knock on my door around 6:45 am. I opened up to find the house manager and another girl in my building who speaks excellent English. She's become the house translator, for the most part. "I have some bad news," she started to explain. The somber look on her face indicated that something serious had happened. My first thought was that someone had died or that Katherine had an accident while out on her morning run (she wasn't home yet). Ironically, then, I was somewhat relieved to hear that my bicycle had been stolen. Along with Katherine's and Bron's (the new Aussie girl who's staying in the building until she finds a house to rent). Not the best way to start my morning.

I ran upstairs to inform Bron, and told Katherine when she got back from her run. Of course, none of us were pleased. Katherine and Bron are on tighter budgets than I am, and replacing a bike is an expensive undertaking. Not that I'm thrilled about dropping another $100 on a new bike. Between this robbery and having my bag snatched in Saigon, I've lost well over $500 dollars in stolen cash and goods, and then replacing what I lost. And I loved my old bike!

When I finally made it to class this morning (I had to wait for the police, which took ages, and was probably all in vain since I know I'll never see that bike again), one of my students reminded me that today is Friday the 13th, and asked me what I thought about the day. I told her than in the past I didn't believe it was unlucky, but now I'm not so sure. All of the computers in the classroom (we were in the high-tech lab) were mysteriously not working, too. My boss, who I was co-teaching with, agreed that all of our misfortune could be contributed to this unlucky day.

My boss also informed me that clearly 2009 is an unlucky year for me. They're really into luck here. Despite my initial skepticism, I'm starting to wonder about it. Just hours into the new year I was robbed, losing a hell of a lot of cash, my phone, camera, and lots of sentimental things. And now, just over a month later, I lose my precious green bicycle.

On top of all this, I'm staring unemployment in the face. And cant seem to find my calling in life, other than opening up a bungalow-bar on the beach. Of course this is a much bigger problem than the loss of my bicycle, but one bit of bad luck seems to remind you of all the other obstacles you face...

Bye, bye bicycle! I hope your new owner loves you as much as I did.

FURTHERMORE, this is the second robbery in the building in the past week. A few days ago, some guys climbed up a tree in front of the building, hopped onto one of the balconies, and stole two laptops from a room. Apparently the two girls that lived in the room were there at the time--it was in the middle of the night, I think--and I heard that the guys had a knife or something. That part might not be true, though. I also heard recently that my father works at the US Embassy here, a laughable proposition since I dont actively have a father, and he'd never be able to work at the Embassy anyway. Knife or no knife, though, I'm beginning to doubt the security of the building. If I'm going to get locked out of my own building at 11pm, it might as well be for a damn good reason. Clearly, locking the front door isn't preventing theft (the bike theives came in through a window and climbed over a door), and I'm afraid to leave any valuables in my room when I go out.

I keep telling myself that a little bad luck can be good luck. Now I just have to wait for the bad luck to run out and the good luck to kick in. Vomit.

Books and Movies and a big "Oops"

Over my 2 month break, I found the time to indulge in some literature and film. Unfortunately not a whole lot of either, but enough to satiate me for the time being.


A billion years ago, back in Hanoi, I discovered a fantastic English-language bookshop called Bookworm. Offering new and used books, guidebooks, history and culture books, and even some movies, all under the ownership of a friendly young Vietnamese man, the shop is truly a gem. I spent hours there, despite the relatively small size of the shop. I quickly skipped over the western fictions, John Grisham and the like, and eventually settled into a corner of the store that housed books about Vietnam and novels by contemporary Vietnamese authors. It was such a jackpot, as I had already finished a couple of the books I brought with me. Finally I settled on a stack of books that included THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE, THE SORROW OF WAR, DUMB LUCK (a novel), and BEYOND ILLUSIONS, another novel. All of the books were photocopied, but the pricetag on each explained the breakdown of the cost and how much of the profit would go directly to the author or the cost of photocopying. As legit as it could be for not being legit at all. Having read THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE, which was enlightening to say the least, and DUMB LUCK, and fabulous and hilarious novel about 1950s Vietnam, I recently picked up BEYOND ILLUSIONS. I was drawn to this book because of its female author and the fact that, on the back cover, it explained how the book was banned in Vietnam. And there I was, buying it in Hanoi.

A book about corruption, expectations, love, lust, morals and independence, BEYOND ILLUSIONS quickly revealed not only why it is banned in Vietnam, but also the courageousness of its author, Duong Thu Huong. The female protagonist in the story, Linh, faces losing everything or, in her opinion, standing for nothing. Her nuanced character, human and flawed, leads a page-turning story with an ultimately unsuspected but satisfying ending. A remarkably written novel with an excellent translation to boot. And now my copy has Cambodia sand in its seams, which I just love.



I must thank Samuel for his unintended donation of two copies of LIFE OF PI to my library. Realizing at LAX airport that he left his copy in Nashville, he picked up another to read on the plane and while traveling here in Vietnam and Cambodia. Then, in Cambodia, he realized he left his new copy in Vietnam, and thus purchased a bootleg copy from a street vendor. Finally, meaning to leave one copy with me when he went back to America, he accidentally left both copies. At least I have one to trade at a book exchange now.

I've been hearing about this book for years and I was anxious to know what all the buzz was about. Sam seemed to have some trouble getting into it, and Katherine said the same was true for her when she tried to read the book. Not so for me. I picked it up one night before bed and read over half the book in that first sitting. I finished it the next night. In a literally fantastic tale, spirituality and survival become intertwined in a most bizarre of circumstances, hinted at by the image on the cover. I'm not a religious person, and the story didn't make me believe in God (as the tagline suggests), but the protagonist's earnest endeavor "just to love God", in all of "his" (urgh--there's one reason I'm not religious!) manifestations reminds us that maybe all this religious conflict in the world isn't inevitable. I can see this one becoming a modern and enduring classic.


One of my favorite movies in years, I've already watched my bootleg copy of VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA twice. I was predisposed to love it: Javier Bardem, Penelope Cruz, Scarlett Johansson, Barcelona, and Woody Allen (although I'm a little disgusted at him, having recently learned about his affair with and later marriage to his more-or-less adopted step-daughter of Mia Farrow, who he was involved with when the affair begain). Missing this movie was one thing I was super bummed about when I left the States for Vietnam. I was so looking forward to seeing and thought I'd have to wait until next summer. Not true, thanks to Vietnam's blatant lack of copyrights and intellectual property rights! For 12,000 dong, or 70 cents, a properly functioning copy of Allen's new flick was happily spinning around in my computer for my viewing pleasure. I mean, do I want my money going to his semi-incestuous ass? (In a day or two I'll be more capable of separating the man from his art. Just give me time.)

Title characters Vicky and Cristina are best friends who find themselves in Barcelona for the summer. The former is practical and rooted and engaged to be married, the latter is free-spirited and passionate and sexually explorative. The summer presents unexpected romantic situations for both women, who ultimately must (attempt to) decide what they're really looking for in life and in love. Coming from the brain of Woody Allen, the movie is of course quirky and subtly funny, but I nevertheless found much to identify with in both of the characters, especially Cristina, and the events of their summer. You know, minus the threesome with a Spanish painter and his homicidal/suicidal ex-wife.


At a coffee shop in Saigon, I was fortunate enough to see Sean Penn play Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California. Much more "out" than the controversial but sexually repressed BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, MILK is probably avoided by those with homophobic inclinations. This, in my opinon, is a great tragedy, as this movie is, at its heart, about a fight for equality and civil rights. Cheers to Gus Van Sant for illuminating the story, continuing Harvey Milk's fight and making one of my favorite movies of the year.

I also caught, either in Saigon or on dvd, CHE, DOUBT, W, and DAN IN REAL LIFE. CHE--I only got to see the first half, unfortunately--blew my mind and increased my lust for Benicio del Toro. DOUBT was really good, W was disappointing (though not as mucha s the man himself), and DAN IN REAL LIFE was a light, refreshing romantic comedy. All worth seeing, but some more than others.

Also on the subject of film, next week is the first of what I hope will be many movie nights for students, starting with the third year English majors. I'm glad to have this project off the ground.

In totally unrelated news, I made a serious fuck up today. My class for this afternoon was moved to the morning, which I was told in passing on Monday morning while I was in the middle of chaotic meeting of which I unexpectedly found myself in charge. I jotted down the change in a notebook without thinking about it, and the news just went in one ear and out the other. I was all ready to go to class this afternoon until my co-teacher called and asked if I'd forgotten about class today. "No," I told her. "I'm still coming this afternoon." Even when she explained that she'd told me on Monday about the rescheduling, I still didn't remember. I was so busy when she told me on Monday that it didn't even register. The worst of it was that I was responsible for bringing the pre-test for the students. I'm mortified by my irresponsiblity and lack of professionalism, even though the teacher was perfectly friendly about it and even apologized for not reminding me. This is my most serious infraction since I've been working here, and although there will be no formal reprecussion, I feel terrible. It's absolutely unacceptable. Yikes. I'm definitely more motivated to be especially on-the-ball after this mess up.

Loved Ones

My precious little sister was passing through Nashville to watch a friend's older brother play hockey. Sam stopped by to see her and to take her some bubble tea (I've gotten her hooked too!). They sent me this photo.


Two of my very favorite people in the entire world. When Sam told me was going to get to see her, I unexpectedly broke down crying. I miss her so much. And from her emails and messages, I can tell that she is growing up and maturing a lot. It's sad for me to be missing her grow up, but I hope in some way I'm at least setting a good example by venturing out into the world. In any case, I'm really looking forward to having her come stay with Sam and me this summer.

Update Part One: Christmas and New Year

I'm finally back after two months travel, during which time I clearly abandoned my blog. Yikes. In the past two months I've been to Danang, Hoi An, Dong Hoi, Nha Trang, Ho Chi Minh City, Phnom Penh, Siem Reap, and Sihanoukville (the latter three in Cambodia). Eight cities and two countries might not sound like a lot in two months, but I prefer slow travel. And I did some backtracking. And I took two short breaks at home in Nha Trang. But, now that I'm back in Nha Trang for good, I should get back to regularly updating this thing. So, without further ado, here's the first installment of an update of my past month and half.

Christmas in Da Lat
Key Words: Da Lat wine, Christmas miracles, and Ms Dung

Most of the other Fulbrighters and I met in Dalat to celebrate. We stayed at Dreams Hotel, which continues to hold the title of my favorite hotel in Vietnam (and now Cambodia). At $20 dollars a night for a double room and breakfast, the price is higher than average, but definitely worth the indulgence. The two locations of the hotel, located on the same street, are owned by the lovely and sweet Ms. Dung, who treats all of her guests like family. Breakfast is even served family-style in the kitchen. And breakfast is something you do not want to miss--eggs to order, fresh baguettes, butter, cheese, peanut butter, Da Lat strawberry jam, vegemite and marmite (yuck), piles and piles of fresh fruit, delicious coffee and homemade passionfruit juice, plus cold cuts for the carnivorously inclined. It's a true feast! On top of this, the rooms are lovely, the beds are comfortable, there's a sauna and steam room, and the showers are divine, with a million jet settings and even jets that come out of the wall. The second location of hotel has...wait for it...jacuzzi tubs.

We opted for the first location, though, so that we could stay at the hotel that Ms Dung herself staffs. She's one of the hotel's best features. On Christmas Eve, she held a big party for all of the guests, offering heaps of food and numerous bottles of wine. Perhaps out of a little homesickness, I offered to help prepare for the party; I wanted to feel like party of the family, getting everything ready for a big Christmas dinner. I ended up rolling a gillion spring rolls (that included pork. yuck!) down in the kitchen while Ms Dung's family and staff prepared the kebabs that would be grilled later. I didn't understand nearly any of the conversation but it felt so comforting to be in a kitchen, helping to prepare a meal.

The party was a huge success, and Ms Dung even ordered in special vegetarian food for me and the two other vegetarians in our group. By the end of the evening, my friends and I were all stuffed and significantly buzzed/slightly drunk. Attendant pictures are up on Picasa . We all retired to one of our hotel rooms, piled onto the beds, and played "Never Have I Ever." It was the most enlightening and bizarre Christmas Eve of my life. Definitely a far cry from my usual gnocchi-and-movie tradition with my mother!

On Christmas morning we all lingered at breakfast for a couple hours before going out into the city. Feeling like I needed some time to myself, I branched off from the group, found some taro bubble tea and wandered around alone for a couple hours. Maybe I needed a little reflection. To be honest, the week before Christmas was harder for me than any time since I've been here. I missed my family and friends, I missed Sam, I missed the cold weather and Christmas music and fires in the fire place and lights on houses. I missed all the little Christmas traditions that I had taken for granted. I'm not as rootless as I thought.

We all went out for a really nice Christmas dinner at Cafe de la Poste, a French restaurant associated with a five-star hotel in the city. A bit of a splurge, it was one of the best meals I've had here. And it was Christmas, so the splurge was excused.

My first Christmas away from home was thus as home-y as it could have been, with my friends and the gestures of Ms Dung at Dreams hotel. I was glad to have the holiday behind me, though, and get on with the festivities for New Year.


New Year/The Craziness That Went Down in HCMC
Key words: Beverages, balcony, dancing, beverages, robbery, dancing, Estonians, up-til-dawn, dancing

My time in HCMC was absolute madness in so many ways. After separating for a few days, most of the group met up again in HCMC for New Year. We started the party a little early, though. December 30th was Jahmila's birthday, which involved sushi, an Irish Pub, Go2 Bar, and further festivities on the balcony of our hotel. We met some Estonian guys who were staying across the hall from us, a new friendship that would turn out be be central to our New Year's experience in the big city.

Depsite our long night on Jahmila's birthday (some of us, myself included, were still up when the sun rose--this would be a common occurrence), we hit it hard again on New Year's Eve, of course. Our group and the Estonians gathered on the balcony, shared lots of toasts, and a little after 11 we transferred the party to a nearby park where there was a huge concert and celebration. Completely oblivious to the events on the stage, my new and old friends and I danced like crazy. Alone, with each other, with both the willing and reluctant Vietnamese spectators who were now watching us more than the concert. Danced danced danced. Karl, one of our new friends, spun me around like a pro while a circle of onlookers circled around us. Tom, another new friend, danced in a puddle. Apparently there was a video of this on my camera but...well....more on the camera later.

At midnight, Tom and Tom (there were two Estonians by the same name) opened bottles of champagne and sprayed them everywhere while I danced around the impromptu fountain and made sure to kiss all my new and old friends firmly on the lips. I get kissy after a couple drinks.

Getting us all to a club after the party on the park turned out to be nearly as difficult as creating peace in the Middle East. As soon as half of us would gather, the other half would disappear into the crowd again. Among other things, Jahmila realized she'd lost an earring and seemed willing to give her life to find it again. It took some harsh talking to to get her abandon the earring, as the girl gets, well, let's say determined when she drinks. Two taxis, a xe om, and probably an hour later, we all somehow managed to get to the club where, once again, I danced danced danced danced.

Walking home, though, I experienced a quite unfortunate event. I was robbed. A guy on a motorbike whizzed by and ripped my purse off my arm. Karl, my new dancing partner who was walking me home, tried to run after the guy but it was pointless. The thief was on a motorbike! At first, maybe from the shock, I adopted a rather Zen attitude about incident, yelling to Karl while he ran after the thief that it didn't matter, the bag was gone and there was nothing to do about it. My acceptance of the event yielded almost immediately, though, to a deep sense of loss. Perhaps this was once I realized exactly what I'd just lost: over $250 dollars in cash, my debit card, my camera (and all of the faaaabulous pictures from New Year's and Jahmila's birthday), my phone, the little ice cream cone cell phone charm that my sister gave me, my favorite wallet that I bought at the dollar store, all of the sentimental mementos I kept in my wallet, and the purse itself, which was new (but only $5). I thus sat down on the sidewalk and cried like a baby, while Karl put his arm around me and tried to shoo away the crowd of Vietnamese people who had gathered around to stare. (To be fair, some of them donated some napkins for me to blow my nose.)

Luckily I had stuffed a 50,000 dong note in my bra in case of an emergency (not to add to my cleavage). Some part of me seemed to know that I was going to be robbed. After he somehow managed to stop my crying, Karl hailed a cab and we returned to the hotel. I tried to pay for the cab with the last 50,000 dong to my name, but Karl, gentleman that he is, insisted on paying for the cab. He even let me use his mobile phone to call Sam in America, to ask him to cancel my bank cards. These kind gestures were in addition to the fact that his sandals broke while running after the thief. Yikes. Now shoe-less Karl wasn't the only great friend around. Becca loaned me 3 million dong so that I could, you know, eat. And get back to Nha Trang where I had a credit card that I could draw money on.

I stayed a few more days in HCMC and indulged in a few more nights out, including another night out at the whore-iffic Apocalypse Now Club (where we went for New Years). Becca, Jahmila and I had our own private dance party in the middle of the club, apparently. David said at one point he looked at us from across the room and we were just in the middle of the dance floor, our hands all up in the air dancing together with the biggest smiles on our faces. The Estonians left the following morning, and I woke (at 1 pm) to find flowers from Karl, who hoped to revive my spirits after the robbery. Mission accomplished.

I myself left soon, as well. After all the craziness, alcohol, poor eating and very little sleep, (not to mention loss of money), I needed a brief respite in Nha Trang before Sam would arrive in less than a week....

Coming Soon
Update Part Two: Sam's Visit and the Kingdom of Wonder