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....

The Stopping Power of Water

Monsoon season is here, and it's not fucking around. It has literally rained for two nights and days without stop, and will continue to do so for the next three months or so. Maybe a day of sun here and there. I can't exactly get my head around it. And I definitely didn't bring proper shoes for it.

I stayed in for most of the day, but I finally mustered the courage to leave the building when Katherine invited me to get che across the street. I walked down the road, but ultimately refused to go into the cafe because there was a river of several inches of standing water in front of it and I didn't want to completely ruin my shoes. This, John Mearsheimer, is the stopping power of water, a phenomenon that applies to more than just great power politics.

Luckily Katherine got the che to go. Che is a pretty broad term for a variety of drink-like treats. In Hanoi I had one with lots of fruit and grass jelly in a sweet juice of some sort. Today, it had black beans, white beans, tapioca, plantain bananas and coconut milk with ice. So tasty, and healthy too! It was worth trudging out in the rain, and definitely worth the 4000 dong (about 25 cents).

Other than trekking out for dinner in the pouring rain--Katherine and I were starving, and Steve needed dinner too--I've been inside all day. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to being damp for the next few months.

I did manage to do some laundry today (there's a washer downstairs) and discovered that while I won't be riding my new bike much during the rainy season, it will still get some use as a drying rack.


I finally met some of the other residents of the building, too! I ran into a few today while I was taking out the trash. There are some Vietnamese, some Chinese, a couple guys from Bangladesh. Then, tonight, night there was a knock on my door. I answered to find a guy that I'd never met before. Without introducing himself or anything, he asked me if I was free and if I could come upstairs to talk with him and his friends. He said that the atmosphere of the building was "boring" because everyone was just in their rooms closed doors. And without further information, Katherine and I were swept upstairs and suddenly found ourselves sitting in some girls' room, eating sesame candy and chum chum, and chatting with two Vietnamese girls, a few vietnamese guys and the two guys from Bangladesh. A little strange at first, but ultimately fun and informative. I'm excited about new friends, and I like this multiculturalism! At one point we were comparing the status of unwed mothers in our respective countries. In America, it's not a big deal. In Vietnam, it's still kind of shameful but much less so than in the past. In Bangladesh, the woman is beaten by her family.

The best news of the day is that I will be hosting a Full Moon Celebration in my room on Sunday! My friend Duan asked me tonight if he could organize the celebration in my room, and although I was hesitant at first, I came to senses and agreed. OF COURSE I will host a Full Moon Celebration! Apparently it will be Sunday night, and it will involve flying lanterns, games, and lots of new friends. Horray for full moons in Viet Nam!


Currently listening: Nick Drake, Pink Moon

To market, to market

This morning, Katherine, Tu, Duan and I met for coffee at 8:30, and then we all walked down to the market near campus . Katherine and I needed supplies to make fresh spring rolls, and the boys tagged along and took these photos. Thanks, boys! (For more photos, see Tu's picasa here.)

drinking coffee at a little shop nearby (katherine, tu, and me)

Duan reading my palm and drawing flowers on my fingertips (long story)

Walking to the market, we found this little ceramic dog for sale at a flower shop.

at the market.....

buying veggies (so inexpensive here!!!!)

and buying fresh tofu...

and fresh vermicelli...

finishing up by buying fruit...

...and finally back at home!

In the afternoon, Katherine and I went for a walk to explore a part of the neighborhood we'd never visited. We found another market, where I bought this little rug for 7000 dong, or about 45 cents. Hopefully it will prevent the floor outside my bathroom from getting completely wet when I shower.

Finally, Katherine and I attempted to make fresh spring rolls from the rice paper, veggies, and tofu we bought at the market. We checked out the kitchen in the building, but it was....terrifying. We opted to borrow Steve's hot water maker to make water to soften the rice paper. All said, the spring rolls proved to be quite tasty: tofu, cucumber, lettuce, basil, mint, bean sprouts, soy sauce and vegetarian fish sauce. Given that we had no kitchen and only 2 bowls and a plate, I think we did pretty damn well! (Note: We clean all of our fruits and veggies with special baby bottle/veggie/fruit cleanser!)

ingredients

Aaaand....here's my new bike!! Steve has loaned me a great bicycle helmet (he has a spare, and he drives a motorbike anyway) until I buy my own.


In other news, I was supposed to start classes tomorrow, but my Monday classes have been canceled. I'm a little disappointed but it's moderated by the fact that now I don't have to get up at 6am (my first class on Mondays is at 7!).

Also, it has started raining. I was right. Last night and tonight have brought torrential rains. It seems to be only be raining at night and in the morning right now, and the days are still sunny. I can handle this, but I assume monsoon season only gets more intense. And just as my sunburn is starting to go away!

Back in the real world, Sam is having an exciting day. He's playing a Folds show with the Nashville Symphony tonight! (Read more here.) At this moment, in fact, he's probably heading to rehearsal. I'm so proud of him. As happy as I am here, and as little as I want to go back, there are a few things I'm sad to miss. This is one of them. Hopefully I'll be able to do some youtube stalking tomorrow...

Golden Girl Magically Becomes RED Girl!

Remember a couple months ago when I was making fun of the Fulbright manual for explaining that the "sun is hot and can burn you quickly"? I realize now that instead of being a smart ass, I should have been using that time to buy more sunscreen. After getting sucked into a book while lying on the beach on Friday, I am suffering from a nearly full-body sunburn. Legs, arms, back, shoulders, chest. The worst is my....well, my ass. I can't sit, stand, or lie down without pain. Almost as miserable are my upper arms and shoulders, which are so burnt that I can barely lift my arms or put on a shirt. I know this is my fault. But I did check myself intermittently to make sure I wasn't burning....and I didn't think I was. I guess the sun here really is just a lot more intense than I imagined. And I'm starting to question the integrity of that overpriced sunscreen, as well.

The good news is that I read nearly all of Dumb Luck while I was cooking myself. I have just a few pages left! And apart from getting one of the worst sunburns of my life, it really was a nice day. Alone, on a gorgeous beach, swimming, resting, reading, trying to determine the origins of all the tourists around me...I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to live in a land-locked locale again!

After leaving the beach, I stopped for a banana smoothie at a little italian place near the beach. There was another lone female foriegner in the restaurant. She looked about my age, in fact. As I as sipping my smoothie and she was eating her lunch, we both noticed a cockroach scurrying across the floor. We looked at each other and laughed, both at the cockroach and at the fact that neither of us were particularly bothered by its presence. This is Viet Nam. It's a tropical climate. There are bugs. Lots of them. There's nothing you can do about it. So you just accept them, and go on drinking your banana smoothie.

Later in the evening I met Katherine for dinner at our favorite vegetarian sandwich street vendor at one of the pagodas near campus, and a smoothie at the little joint down the road. Of course, we topped off the evening with banana treats from the french-speaking vietnamese man. Every night, as he sees us coming up to him, he stands up, says good evening in French, shakes our hands, and asks us (still in french) if we've eaten dinner yet. It's one of the highlights of my day. I feel that the 1000 dong I pay him isn't quite enough, and I keep meaning to take him little treats, like a Hershey kiss or something.

Sleeping with this horrific sunburn didn't go very well, but I was up early nonetheless for an 8am meeting with the English department. Yep, 8am meeting on Saturday morning. (They actually have class on weekends but I'm not teaching any of them, luckily). Vietnamese people just get up so ridiculously early. Early as in 5:30. Everyone gets up around this time, just naturally and for pleasure. My friend Tu was telling me that although he normally gets up at 5:30,n sometimes he sleeps "late", until 6 or 6:30 am. When I told him I sleep until 8am (which was a lie--I can sleep much later!), he laughed! He said though, that he didn't think I was lazy and that my late sleeping was just a matter of habit.

After the meeting, one of the English teachers took me to buy a bike! We rode her motorbike to the bike shop. (By the way, I've become a pro at riding side saddle, since I almost always wear skirts here.) The owner of the bike shop was a jovial 40-something guy who, through the translations of the English teacher, flirted with me in a completely non-threatening way. He offered to lower of the price of one of the bikes I was looking at, and when I ended up buying a different bike instead, he halved the price of the bike lock I wanted and gave me four free hats. I ended up taking a pale green bike with a basket and a bell. As I rode off, the shop owner yelled "Bye Mallory!"

Riding home on my new bike was magical. The main road in the city runs right along the shore, and I just pedaled on home, by coast, over the bridge, past all the blue fishing boats...

Katherine had invited me to go to the Lousiane beach with her and Mary Anne, another volunteer teacher in the city. She's British, in her 50s, and works at a teacher training college near the university. She's specifically training special-ed teachers. So after coming home from my (sweaty) first bike ride, I rinsed off, cooled down, and then hopped on the 5 bus back into the city centre. I decided, since I was so sunburned, to treat myself to a nice lunch before joining them at the beach. Not the strongest justification in the world, but I also haven't had a western meal in a week. I strolled through the streets, browsing menus until I came upon "Ristorante da Fernando." As I was reading the menu, a western man walked out and started talking to me, asking me where I was from, etc. When I asked where he was from originally--his english was perfect but he had an accent--he said, "Italy of course! I am Fernando!" And with the discovery that I was talking to the Fernando, owner of the restaurant that makes its own pasta, I decided that I found my lunch spot for the day. It was a bit more expensive than I wanted, but all anyone needs to do to get me to buy something is tell me that he or she made it themselves....

Thus, I found myself enjoying homemade pumpkin and cheese ravioli with a butter sage sauce and talking to this Italian man about his life and travels. The meal was delicious, the company was great, and I decided that the experience itself was worth the extra dollar or two that I was spending.

Feeling just full enough, I wandered down to Lousiane, where I met Katherine and Mary Anne. Mary Anne is sweet, charming, and intelligent. It was great to meet a new friend! I pulled up a chair in the shade of the tiki umbrella and chatted for an hour or so. Mary Anne has been here for 9 months now, and I think was here for a year back in 2005. At that time, she was here alone, and her husband remained in the UK. This time, though, he's accompanied her. He took a job in Ho Chi Minh City, so he's there for 4 nights a week. But they're making it work. And they both love it here. I think what they're doing is pretty incredible. With their kids grown, they decided to have an adventure and reinvent their lives in Viet Nam. Mary Anne said it was so hard going back West, and I can already feel it myself....

Her husband, Chris, was actually coming in from HCMC at 6pm, and she invited Katherine and me to have dinner with them. She took us to a place called "Andy's Chopsticks", run by none other than a guy named Andy. He's actually Vietnamese, and was apparently one of the first friends they made when they moved here. His father owns a book exchange shop, called "Andy's", just nearby, and I had actually stopped in the bookstore before meeting them at the beach. The restaurant was cozy, with a clean, contemporary vietnamese feel to it. We sat in the garden, with a view of the kitchen where they were preparing our meals. Andy talked with us for a long time. His English is superb, and he is so generous and friendly. When I told him I was a vegetarian, he recommended a grilled vegetable plate from the menu, along with pumpkin soup. I figured the chef's recommendation was the way to go, so I took his suggestions. First, the soup was incredible. And I learned that, here, pumpkin is green. It was a little shocking when the bowl of green soup was placed in front of me! The veggies were delicious, as well. Broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, sweet potato (like the pumpkin, totally different here), green beans, and something that looked like beets grilled and drizzled with a light mustard sauce over lettuce....mmmh! Plus, since Andy is friends with Mary Anne and Chris, and was happy to meet two new volunteer teachers, he brought us a big plate of seaweed salad, on the house. Also delicious, not surprisingly. And it was wonderful to spend the evening with Chris and Mary Anne, who are both truly inspiring. Having them here feels a bit like having an aunt and uncle nearby.

We shared a cab home after stopping in A-Mart, another "supermarket" in the city, and one that caters to westerners. I tried to help pay for the cab but Chris and Mary Anne insisted otherwise, which was quite generous.

I've realized more today that people really value having volunteer teachers here. While I was at the beach, a guy came around selling paintings. I've seen him on the beach before, selling his wares. He's a nice guy with good English. Today when he approached us, Katherine and Mary Anne explained to him that they were volunteer teachers and didn't have much money (which is true, because their programs really dont pay much). I got lumped into the volunteer teacher group as well. I guess technically I am a volunteer teacher, but I'm getting quite a generous stipend by Vietnamese standards. The painter, though, was thrilled to hear that we were volunteer teachers, and explained that he himself had learned English from an American volunteer teacher many years ago. He said that we had very good hearts. I asked him if he had painted all the works himself, and he responded by handing me several laminated news articles about him and a gallery he used to run here in Nha Trang. Like I said, all anyone has to do to get me to buy something is tell me that he or she made it, painted it, carved it, etc. I'm a total sucker. And the paintings were quite good. When I asked him how much they were, he said something about me not having much money but having a good heart, so the price would be "very little". This was a very generous offer--I mean, this guy lost his gallery because of rent inflation and is now selling his paintings on the beach--and I felt guilty because I'm making much more than a volunteer teacher salary. But he felt so indebted and grateful to volunteer teachers... I promised him I would buy a painting soon. In fact, I'll probably buy several.

Later, talking with Andy at his restaurant, he too expressed gratitude towards volunteer teachers because he had learned english from one, as well. Hence, the free salad and his generous (and sincere) offer to help us with anything we ever needed.

I don't meant to be self-gratifying here. But I'm happy to know that people aren't offended by my presence here, and actually welcome it. I worried that I would be perceived as this American teacher who was sent to teach her "superior" language or something, or that my presence would be unwanted or resented as something almost colonial or imperialistic. So far, that doesn't seem to be the case, which is a great relief. The Vietnamese are truly some of the most wonderful, pragmatic, genuine people in the world.

Off to sleep after yet another perfect day. Going for coffee and to the market with Katherine, Tu, and Duan at 8:30 in the morning. Early for me, but I really had to fight for 8:30 instead of 7:30! I'm wondering, too, if the rains will start soon. The sea is starting to get rougher....

One absentee ballot, please.

All of this McCain-Palin stuff has me bummed and, well, scared. If they win, I won't live in America for another four to eight years. I mean it. I think they could be worse than Bush.

I'd like to be able to return to the states for a while at least, in between adventures, so I just donated to the Obama campaign. And I also figured out everything I need to do to vote from overseas. (It turns out that Fedex will mail my ballot overnight for free!) Sam pointed out to me recently that he will be here in Nha Trang visiting me during the election, and that we'll probably be watching the results on some TV in a random bar (I'd add probably an expat bar). I'm foreseeing either a very wonderful or a very sorrowful day.

I know donating and voting isn't doing a lot, but it's a start, right? I'm brainstorming what else I can do from over here to help....

All of this comes after another lovely day in Nha Trang. Here, at times it's easy for me to lie on a beach and not think about the rest of the world. Slums are out of sight, and I could excuse myself from watching the convention since I don't have at TV. But as soon as I leave that beach, reality hits hard. I walk home past the slums, read the NY Times online, and watch Palin's speech on youtube.

I actually didn't get to the beach today, though. I had a meeting with my boss and two English teachers (both 24-year-old girls) at 9am. I got my teaching schedule! I have two or three classes every day. There are 10 class periods a day here--more like an American high school schedule than an American university schedule. Some days I teach the first two or three periods (starting at 7am--ouch!), other days I teach the last two or three and one day I think I teach the middle three periods.... Unfortunately I don't have Monday or Friday off right now, but my Friday classes only run until the middle of October so I should be able to take some long traveling weekends after that. Next week I'll start going to the classes, just to observe, and the week after that I'll start team teaching all the classes.

(As a side note, on my way to the meeting a group of three Vietnamese students yelled "Katherine" to me. I turned to them, assuming they actually intended to talk to me since I was the only American within, oh, a few miles at least. I clarified that I wasn't Katherine, and when I told them my name, they said, "Oh, you're our listening teacher!" I didn't even know yet that I was teaching a listening class, but somehow they knew already. The three students were really nice and excited to meet me, and it made me even more excited to start working.

Also, one of the English teachers I met told me that her class--which is a non-english major class--is comprised entirely of male students who are "very excited" to meet me.)

After the meeting I came home and talked on skype to Corey about her challenges at City Year in Seattle. Then I shared lunch with Katherine--a yummy salad of tomato, basil, cucumber, carrots, olive oil, salt, a little rice vinegar, and some raw tofu. (Normally I hate raw tofu, but it's really good here. Probably because it was made fresh this morning. It takes the place of cheese in the salad, at least.) She seems to make this salad frequently, I think I will be doing the same. We also brainstormed how to make a mean italian meal--her father is Italian. We decided that we could make a mean bruschetta and some great pesto sauce, given the wild abundance of fresh basil here. I love having vegetarian friends!

We then ventured out in search of bubble tea. (For those of you who dont' know, I developed a serious bubble tea addiction this summer while waiting to come to Vietnam.) We decided to walk to the other side of the city and then take the bus home in order to save a few cents. Not surprisingly, though, we quickly got turned around in the backstreets and wandered around for a couple hours. Luckily we wandered right into a vegetarian restaurant, which was delicious. When we asked how much the plate of food was (we split it), the man was silent for a minute, smiling to himself and thinking just how much to overcharge us. He told us 20,000, but Katherine and I both knew very well that it should only be between 7,000 to 10,000. We offered him 10,000, and he accepted, I think realizing that we knew what he was up to. As a concession, I told the man we would be back often because we both live here. He seemed to be ok with the arrangement, gave us a business card, and we went on our way.

Soon we stopped in a cell phone shop to ask for directions to bubble tea and the "super"market (it's really tiny!). Luckily the guy at the shop actually knew where we wanted to go, and how to get there. In Vietnam, if you ask for directions and the person doesn't know how to get there, he or she will just make something up and give you absolutely wrong directions, instead of just saying they dont know. But this guy at the cell phone shop even drew us a map and labeled all the streets, even the ones that were irrelevant to where wanted to go.

It was this map that finally enabled us to find bubble tea, only a couple hours and at least 5km after leaving school. We actually found two places right beside each other. Unfortunately neither was very good (we tried both places, of course!). The search for good bubble tea in Nha Trang continues.

The supermarket, called Maximark, is only two streets away from bubble tea, so we stopped in there for some things: fiber crackers (because I'm not getting any fiber here), baby bottle wash to clean veggies (who knew! the things you learn living in southeast asia), a colander, individual packets of sweetened condensed milk, an air freshener. I also discovered ant spray at Maximark, which I'm sure I'll be buying soon to manage the constant presence of ants. I might also be buying mosquito killer that sprays itself intermittently into the air--tonight I found a mosquito in my room for the first time. In fact, it was INSIDE the mosquito net around my room. The thing's supposed to keep them out, not trap them in!

We caught the bus home after a long day of walking. The number 4 bus actually stops right beside Maximark and right at the end of the "donkey path" beside our building--it's practically door to door service! We bought some banana treats from the french-speaking vietnamese man and had our daily exchange in French. It's really one the highlights of my day, exchanging a few words in French. OH! I think I'm going to start going to French class with one of the English professors who's learning French! It's less than $10 for a semester. You can't beat that. But it's a French class that will be taught in Vietnamese, so I'm not sure how useful it will be. I'll give it a test run before paying.

I guess I should also focus on Vietnamese lessons, too, though. I feel like I'm using less Vietnamese here than in Hanoi. Today, though, when asking for directions, I found myself asking questions in Vietnamese that I didn't even really know I knew.

I'm living more simply here than I'm used to, and I love it. The thought of walking into a Target right now makes me tense. I don't want McCain-Palin to win, but I can't say staying here for a few years would be such a bad thing....

Golden Girl and the Urban Slums

When the ambassador learned that I would be working in Nha Trang, he called me "golden girl." And he's proving to be prophetic. I'm already quite sunkissed (er, pink in some places) and my hair is already getting lighter.

Have I mentioned yet that I love this place?

For example, here's what I did today. I slept until 8:30 and did some Skyping (although unfortunately I missed my little sister). I caught up with Sam, who has been in NYC visiting friends and hasn't really heard anything about my new home. After borrowing some SPF 50 from Katherine (I burned my neck walking around yesterday), I left around 10:30 am to walk through campus and down what we call the "donkey path", a little dirt trail that leads from campus to the main road. I was wearing a tank top, since I was headed to the beach, and I felt uber scandalous making the 2 minute walk through campus in such naughty attire. I was just hoping my boss wouldn't see as I walked by the administration building (called "G1"). Of course, though, as I was walking by she leaned out the window and called my name. I thought she was going to scold me for my outfit, but she actually just wanted to reschedule our meeting for Thursday morning. Phew!

After leaving her office I continued on, down the donkey path, and then along the main road to the bus stop. I jumped on the 5, which heads into the city centre/"tourist area". I can walk to a beach from my building, but I wanted to see the main city beach and some other beaches in the centre. Nha Trang is one of the more popular resort and tourist destinations in Viet Nam, but I've been surprised at how quiet and slow the town is, even in the touristy area. Yes, there are lots of hotels, including some expensive 5-star resorts, and a concentration of western restaurants along a handful of streets, but I would still describe Nha Trang as a sleepy resort town. It's no Miami. And thank god for that.

I wasn't sure exactly where to get off the bus, so I just hopped off when I thought I was getting close to where I wanted to be. I actually several blocks off, but I was more than happy to walk and explore a part of the city I don't know. My ultimate destination was the Lousianne Brewhouse and it's 25,000 VND ($1.50) day rental beach chairs that rest in the shade of individual tiki umbrellas. Before getting there, I wanted explore the city centre, try to scout out some places mentioned in my Lonely Planet Guidebook, and possibly find a bathing suit. For some reason, I thought bringing one bathing suit would be enough for a year in a city like Nha Trang. What a lack of foresight!

In the couple of hours that I walked around, I found many of the places in my guidebook. They're actually all concentrated within just a few streets--the heart of the tourist area. Like I said though, it's a really quiet tourist area. Especially during the heat of midday, when I was walking around. There was hardly anyone out! I noticed later in the evening, though, as I was going home, that the are became more populated around dinner time.

One place I found was the A-Mart, where Lonely Planet recommended I could get a Western fix of items from home. I found Barilla pasta, Kraft mac-n-cheese (which I hate), peanut butter (!), lots of good cheese (gouda, brie, camembert, emmental), M&Ms, oreos, Ritz crackers, Haribo candies, several good jams and preserves. The place seemed to mainly cater to the French ex-pat community here, it was pretty expensive, and I'm really trying to let go of some western luxuries, but it's good to know that I'm never too far away from brie cheese.

I also found many of the restaurants and bars in my book. They're all inexpensive by Western standards--vegetable korma for less than $3, for example.

I eventually found a bathing suit I liked in a store, clearly catered to Westerners, called Sun Sport. Although it was a one-piece, it wasn't the most conservative one-piece around. And it was $33, a steep price for an already-cheap American who's grown used to Vietnamese prices. But I really loved it, and it fit really well, and it was interesting looking. I had the woman hold it for me until this evening, just in case I found something better or changed my mind. (In the States I would have just bought it and returned it if I changed my mind, but that won't work here.) I continued on with the bathing suit hunt, but decided to call it quits when I was thumbing through a rack of suits in a different store and a cockroach crawled out of one.

I also needed to find to find some sunscreen. I didn't bring any normal sunscreen with me--just nice facial sunscreen--because I thought I would find it in abundance here. Boy, was I wrong! Sunblock is not only hard to find, but it's crazy expensive. I'm sure the two circumstances are related, but I also assume there's very little demand for the stuff among locals who cover themselves from head to toe whenever they're outside. I'm not kidding--socks with sandals or flipflops, long pants, long-sleeved shirts or hoodies over their normal clothes, or gloves that go all the way up the arm, scarfs, face masks, and hats. Vietnamese people don't want to be tan. The inverse problem of the lack of sunscreen is an oversupply of "whitening" lotions and beauty products that basically speed up how quickly your skin regenerates and ultimately leaves you totally unable to tan. I finally found some Hawaiian Tropic SPF 30, but paid about $7 for a small bottle. I found it for about $6 a block or two down the street, so I'll know where to go next time, but $6 is still high.

With all of my other objectives met--explore, find some restaurants, the A-Mart, sunscreen and a bathing suit--I decided it was time to go lie on the beach. I strolled into the Lousiane Brewhouse, and discovered a posh restaurant and bar, a gorgeous pool, and a stretch of white sand dotted with tiki umbrellas. Of course, the patrons were entirely Western. It felt strange for me to be surrounded by all Westerners instead of all Vietnamese. For me to be back in the majority, I guess. And it felt strange to be in such a high-class place, especially all by myself.

Nevertheless, I wandered around the pool and onto the beach, found an unoccupied umbrella and chair, and paid 25,000 VND when the attendant came to collect the rental fee. Really, $1.50 USD isn't bad for an extremely comfy chair (actually better than my bed!) and a private umbrella, but the idea is that while you're there you buy food and drinks from the brewhouse. You're not supposed to bring your own food or drink in. I managed, though, to smuggle in some chum chum fruit, a few mandarin oranges, and a bottle of water, and no one seemed to mind. Plus, there are constantly Vietnamese women walking up and down the beach with their shoulder baskets offering a variety of food and drinks, from bottled water and potato chips to fresh crabs and lobster. They cook them right there on the beach--one of the shoulder baskets is often a make-shift grill. The brewhouse doesn't seem to mind this. I even saw waiters serving beer and smoothies to groups of people who were eating entire meals they'd bought from the little ladies.

After reading in the shade for a while, I decided it was time to take my first swim in Pacific Ocean. The water here is, as imagined, gorgeous. And warm. Not too warm, but just warm enough to be comfortable while still cool enough to be refreshing. And it's so clear! Even when the water was much deeper than I am tall, I could still see the bottom. I swam for about half an hour. I haven't been really swimming in the ocean in years. I was out there, in the water, with no one really around me, swimming at a breath-taking beach in Vietnam after lounging under a tiki umbrella and eating chum chum....and I just started laughing to myself. Laughing out of shock, awe, gratefulness. Laughing because I was so overwhelmed with joy and happiness. How is this my life? How am I so fortunate?

Finally I pulled myself out of the water and back onto my chair. I read some more of Dumb Luck, a translated Vietnamese novel I bought in Ha Noi. Apparently it's a "modern classic" now, but was actually banned for a time. While I was reading, Katherine showed up. I had invited her to come and take up the chair beside me, as my treat. She's volunteer teaching here and is on a pretty tight budget. We chatted for a while as evening set in. Soon, though, I realized how hungry I was. I'd only eaten a cup of yogurt, a few cashews and a few chum chums all day, with all that walking and swimming and just being in the tropical heat. Additionally, it was 5pm, and the bus stops at 6:30 or so. I still had one last errand to make, to we decided to take care of that and then get back across the bridge for dinner.

The final errand was going to buy the bathing suit. After swimming in my current bathing suit, I realized one problem with it: whenever I extend my arms to make a stroke, the top rides down. It's a one-piece with bandeau-style top, and it just doesn't stay put when I'm swimming. Luckily I was swimming alone today, so it wasn't a problem, but I could see how it could be in the future. The nice lady still had the suit on hold for me. I calmed my possibly buyer's remorse by reminding myself that I really do need a second suit if I'm swimming every day, and that the same suit in the US would cost three times that much. And I'm putting myself on a tighter budget for the next few days.

We hopped back on the 5 bus and rode back across the bridge to our side of the city. While in transit we found a street with several bubble tea places. Not only is Katherine a fellow vegetarian, but she also loves bubble tea like I do. What kindred spirits!

Back on our side of town, Katherine and I finally managed to get a meal from this vegetarian sandwich stall she's been telling me about since I got here. Every time we've gone before tonight, it's been closed. But, boy, was this one amazing sandwhich. A fresh, warm baguette, some chili sauce, fresh herbs and cucumber, marinated tofu and several kinds of "mock meat" products, probably made from wheat gluten. All of this for 6000 VND, or about 36 cents. We took our sandwiches and found an amazing little fresh fruit and smoothie place. By this I mean a woman with a table of fresh fruit/veggies, a blender and juicer in her living room, which was open to the street. (It's really common here for people to be running businesses basically out of their living rooms, which are almost all open entirely to the street.) For 10,000 VND, Katherine and I split a smoothie made from ice, fresh papaya and coconut milk. We also got some of the best iced tea I've ever had with it, for free. After she and I finished about half the smoothie, the little Vietnamese woman came and poured the leftovers from the blender into our cup, which was really quite generous of her. So there I sat, with Katherine, on little plastic stools on the sidewalk outside of someone's store/living room, eating vegetarian vietnamese sandwiches and fresh papaya smoothies which cost us about a dollar each, in total. It was, hands down, one of the five best meals of my life.


A wonderful day, no doubt about it. But today I've also found myself reflecting a lot on the severe discrepancies of wealth and standard of living even with a two-mile stretch of road. This city has two parts, each on either side of the bridge. One side is the touristy part, the city centre with lots of hotels and even a few 5-star luxury resorts that cost a few hundred dollars a night. Where tourists spend in one meal three times the amount that the average vietnamese person has to live for an entire day. The other side of the bridge, though, is the "real" Vietnam. This is where I live. Yes, my room is plenty comfortable, especially by Western standards. But outside I find dirt roads, poor plumbing and sewage, and student dorms that sleep 14 to a room with no running water, AC, or mattresses. And at the bridge itself is perhaps the most clear vision of poverty in the city--a settlement of true urban slums. Lean-to's made of sticks and plastic tarps or patchwork walls of peices of corrugated tin. In my sheltered middle-class life, I've never seen anything like it. I saw a young boy today, he was probably 12 or so, pulling a big cart of potted plants to sell. He was pulling this cart as if he were an animal. He was alone, just laboring along with his heavy cart of plants, hoping someone would buy one.

I see these things--they're hard for me to see, especially in contrast to how fortunate I feel about my own life--and I don't know what to do. Just give him money? Buy a plant? Smile and walk away? At the moment I didn't want to buy a plant--even though I want one in my room--because I knew I'd be walking around a lot and didn't want to carry it around. Now, though, writing about this experience, I find myself thinking, "Mallory! That little boy is pulling around a huge cart full of plants for god knows how many hours a day. Can't you manage to carry a small one with you for a couple hours?!" and I feel like I should have bought a plant. But I can't go around buying something from every person that seems disadvantaged, or struggling. I could quickly spend my month's salary in a day or two. So what do I do, then? How do I help? Or can I? Is there anything to be done in the short term for that little boy, or does he just have to wait until his country develops (and enacts some child labor laws) to have a better life? And where do I fit into all of this?

I might add that the slums are slated to be destroyed soon so that another resort can be built. To add to the obvious misfortune of the slums, they happen to be located on a beautiful piece of land around an inlet of water (over which the bridge crosses).

One thing is for sure. I'm going to tone down my lifestyle and spending habits. In Hanoi I ate well, ate Western a lot of the time, and didn't think too much about money. But I'm not a tourist. I'm living here, and working here, and trying to leave something positive behind. I feel almost disrespectful lounging on the beach like I did today. Katherine has already been a good influence on me--she's making barely more than Vietnamese salary and she has to live on it. I'm trying to sync myself with her habits, then.

On the other hand though, does not spending do more harm than good? Cutting back, living more simply (as do the Vietnamese) might ease some of my own guilt, but does it help ease the struggle of anyone else? If I spend money, a local person gets it, for the most part. And that helps them to some degree, I assume....

Of course, this isn't just about spending. It's about consumption, attitude, mindset, expectations. But I'm just not sure what to do, how to reconcile my good fortunate with the poverty and struggle around me; not sure how to help, if I can help at all. Even in the slightest way. Like the story of the little child throwing stranded starfish back into the water, and when his grandfather says it won't make any difference, the child replies "It makes a difference to the starfish that lives." If anyone has any helpful hints about this existential crisis of mine, please send them along....

Introducing Sarah Palin

I've been shocked and confused by Sarah Palin's recent appointment as McCain's running mate, but I continue to read about it. It's like watching a train wreck: I want to stop looking, but I just can't turn away.

I know this isn't directly related to my time in Viet Nam, but I'm reading about all of this everyday and it's on my mind a lot....so that counts, right?

Really, though. What's McCain doing?! He's not my favorite person in the world, but I thought he would at least be a little better with this decision making process.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/02/us/politics/02vetting.html?hp

**Note: I removed the "picture" (yes, I know it was photoshopped) of Palin for several reasons. First, it didn't correspond with the type of "blog" I want to run here. Secondly, after poking around on the Perez Hilton site--I had never read anything from his blog--I realized how cruel and base his commentaries are. And I don't want to support that at all.

Finally, Nha Trang.

I'm so behind on posting on here that I hardly know where to start. For now, I'll start at the end: I'm safely in Nha Trang, and I love it. Beaches, palm trees, mountains. I just arrived lastnight and I already feel at home.

But let me go back a bit, since it's been a week since I last wrote. The weekend in Dien Bien Phu was....life changing. Cliche, I know. We visited a minority boarding school, an event that ultimately brought me to tears as I reluctantly climbed back into the van to leave as hundreds of children smiled and waved goodbye to us. The children at the school come from multiple ethnic minorities. Most of them leave their families behind (some 100 km away) in order to come to school, and most don't speak Vietnamese when they arrive. They live in overcrowded "dorms", with 10-15 in a room. And they are so happy and generous and friendly. They sang for us when we arrived, both Vietnamese songs and songs in minority languages. A couple of the teachers sang, too. After all of that singing in our honor, we were informed that it was now our turn to sing. This request, I've learned, is common here. I was sick that weekend--and I'm a terrible singer anyway--so I let a few other Fulbrighters take the fall. Kevin got up and sang "Row Row Row Your Boat", and we all joined in. David and Keith sang "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", Andrew sang an Irish drinking song, and Meredith did an impressive rendition of "Amazing Grace".

We visited a couple classrooms, and each time we were honored with yet another song. In the first class room, a young boy asked to sing an ethnic song for us. He walked to the front of the classroom and issued one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. I started crying but somehow managed to keep it together for the most part, which was a good thing since we then stood up and sang "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" for the class. (It's all we could throw together in about 30 seconds!)

I wanted to stay at that school for the rest of the year. It was small, in the middle of rice paddies, and had few resources, but it was making such a big difference in the lives of these children. And Fulbright had been working for months to get approval for us to go.

After visiting the school, we went to a Thai minority village. We got to see two private homes, of the house-on-stilts variety. The first belonged to a poorer family, and there were ducks and chickens and water buffalo wandering around under the house. The second house belonged to a wealthy family (by Vietnamese standards), and even had a computer. The wife of the house insisted that we all sit down (on tiny woven stools) and take shots of rice alcohol (like vodka) with her and the Party Chairman of the village, who had stopped in. She poured us all little shots, and put two empty glasses in the middle. We were told to pour a few drops of our shots into the empty glasses for the ancestors and spirits. I was glad to do so, since even smelling the alcohol made my eyes burn. But I drank it. Then, however, I was shocked to learn that I was expected to take another shot--it's tradition, apparently, to take two shots because we all have two feet. I'm glad that traditions doesn't revolve around the number of fingers, because two shots almost killed me. The woman wanted us to do more, but we all politely declined. Dr. Thao couldn't carry us all out of that house-on-stilts.

Later, at dinner at the hotel, the hotel owner treated us all to yet another round of shots. Then she proceeded to challenge us individually to take more shots. All of this was after she'd been doing numerous shots at her own family's dinner table. One thing is for sure, at least: The women in Dien Bien Phu could drink most American men under the table.

On Sunday we visited A1 Hill, where the French were defeated in the decisive battle. Some of the trenches are even still there, and some bunkers, as well. And the view from the hill is unbelievably gorgeous. That morning was misty and rainy, draping the surrounding mountains in a thin veil of fog. It was much cooler in Dien Bien Phu, as well, which was a relief after the heat of Ha Noi.

Back in Ha Noi for our last week of orientation, we were all very busy. We each had to micro-teach a mock lesson, which took quite a bit of preparation. We also had to (collectively) do a big presentation at the Embassy about life at American universities. Also lots of preparation. And we had the reception at the Ambassador's house, which didn't require too much prep but was intimidating to think about. Ultimately, though, it proved to be an extremely calm, relaxing evening, drinking wine and chatting about the expat life with Americans in the foreign service or Fulbright program. And the Ambassador (who we'd met the first day of orientation) is amazing. He's this jolly man who's unexpectedly laid back and cool. When I walked into his house (which, by the way, is a 19th century French villa and as beautiful as it sounds), I was standing in the foyer, not sure where to go after he greeted me. He said "Go on in! Don't just stand there. Everyone just stands there and clogs up the whole damn thing."

Even with our crammed schedules, the last week in Hanoi was nearly perfect. The weather was the best it had been all month. A bit cooler (read: 95 degrees), especially at night, and there was even a mild breeze at times. One night, David, Keith, Jahmila, Meghan and I even ate outside on the top of a boat on Truc Bac lake--the air was perfect, cool, and breezy, and it was one of the best nights of my life. Another "I cant believe this is really my life" moment.

Then there was Friday night, with moments where I wondered "I can't believe I'm doing this." I let myself be talked into going to the infamous snake village outside of Hanoi. I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone, I guess. At the snake village, the typical routine is this: You pick out a snake. It's killed in front of you. It's heart, still beating, in put on a place on the table. It's blood is drained and mixed with rice alcohol, as is some other bodily fluid (helps with digestion and kind of green--bile I guess?). Someone drops the heart into their shot of blood-and-liquor, and everyone throws back the concoction. Yes, that means one person eats the still-beating heart. Then everyone does the shot of bile and rice liquor. Then all parts of the snake, cooked in a variety of ways, are served to you. Did I mention I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone? Did I mention that I haven't eaten meat in about 12 years? For better or worse, I'll now have to add "except for that one night at the snake village" to any future explanation of my vegetarianism. I went to the snake village with Becca, Meredith, Jenette, Kevin, and Becca's Vietnamese friend Hue. They brought out a snake. We approved their selection. They slit it open, pulled out the heart, put it on our table (yes, still beating), served us up shots of blood and bile mixed with rice alcohol. Becca dropped the tiny heart into her shot-o-blood, we counted to three, and we all drank up. Yes, I drank snake blood. Then I drank snake bile. Or something. Still not sure. THEN I ate snake soup, followed by seasoned, ground snake bones, followed by fried snake skin (apparently it tastes like pork rinds but I wouldn't know since I've never had a pork rind), followed by stirfried snake meat and veggies, followed by snake spring rolls, followed by more snake soup. In the words of my little sister, OMG. And I couldn't agree more. I didn't eat much of any of the above dishes--although the spring rolls were pretty good. Just a couple bites of everything. Just to say I did it. And to honor the spirit of the snake who died so we could have a meal and tell the tale. They really do use every part of the snake, though, which makes me feel a bit better. Even its poor little head gets thrown into a bottle of rice alcohol. Speaking of, we were also brought three bottles of rice alcohol--one with nothing in it (although it probably came from a larger jar with snakes in it), one with bees in it, and one with an unidentifiable snake or lizard of some sort. And I did (small) shots of all of them. Again, OMG.


The restaurant was actually really nice. Beautiful, with intricate wood working, a canopy of flowering trees and vines. And it was pretty expensive. But with all the food we got, and the free bottled water and free alcohol included in the price, PLUS splitting it six ways, it was only about 6 dollars a piece. I just hope no one reading has suddenly started to hate me :)

On Saturday Dr. Thao had us all over to his flat for brunch. I was looking forward to a "normal" meal after my adventure in snake village. We met first at a cafe near his house before going to eat. His wife had prepared what was possibly the best meal I've had in Vietnam. Fresh cucumbers, two types of vegetarian dumplings that are traditional in Hue (where he and his wife are from), and an amazing stew/soup of potatoes, onions, baby corn (and some meat balls that I didn't eat of course). There was fresh french bread and rice cracker stuff (we dont have it in the states) that she had made by hand. She served bananas for dessert. I was more full after that meal than I've been at any time since I got here!

Saturday night was the last night with the Fulbright group and some other friends we made. Saying goodbye to everyone was both sad and exciting. I'll see all the Fulbrights again--at least at the mid-year meeting in December and at the final meeting before we leave--but I'm not sure when or if I will see some other new friends again. There is a chance I might not see Hiep, the son of the hotel owners and a dear friend and tour guide to us, every again, sadly. As a parting gift, we got Hiep several books to read as he's learning English: The Giver, it's companion book, Holes, and The Outsiders. He seemed to love them. And Thuy--dear Thuy!--our enchanting Vietnamese teacher who became a sister to all of us...it was especially hard to say goodbye to her. She will always hold a special place in my heart, and I dont think I will ever meet anyone else like her. She has done so much for us in our month here. To thank her, we got her flowers on our last day of class. And on Saturday we took her out to dinner (Hiep too) and gave her a gift certificate to really nice spa in Ha Noi. We all pitched in, so it was a pretty substantial amount. She was so touched and happy, and said it was the best gift she had ever received. Dinner that night was great, too. The place we wanted to go to was closed down or something, and we ended up finding this great place called the Green Mango. It was beautiful, pretty western, expensive by Vietnamese standards but still cheap for us, and even had rose petals scattered all over the floor, stairs, bathrooms. And the glasses each had a fresh flower on them! My meal was delicious--real gnocchi with real pesto. And with a drink, it was still about $6 USD.

On my last morning in Ha Noi, I got up early, finished packing, showered, and went for one last bowl of pho at my favorite pho place in all of Hanoi. Actually, it was the same place where I had my very first meal in Vietnam, and even without nostalgic bias, it really is the best pho I've had here. And the cheapest, at 5,000 VND, or about 30 cents. The guy there is uber friendly, speaks some English, the meal is served hot and fast and giant fans keep you (moderately) cool....Jahmila, David, Becca, and Hiep joined me on Sunday morning. It was a meal I won't forget. Leaving Hanoi after a month there felt like leaving Spain after a semester...

Jahmila and I shared a taxi to the airport since our flights were around the same time. On my way to the airport, it struck me that some things feels the same no matter where you are in the world: gathering your things, shoving them into a taxi, and traveling to the airport, or away from it, alone, and into a new place you've never seen . It's the same rush of excitement, the same worry that you've forgotten something, the same acceptance of the unknown and whatever wonders or disasters it could bring. Or sitting at an airport boarding gate, alone, either coming or going, finding or leaving, looking forward or backward, going back to work or to a needed respite, greeting a lover or saying goodbye... All the same. Paris, Madrid, Berlin, La Spezia, Florence, Pisa, London, Berlin, NYC, Boulder, Seattle, a random airport somewhere in Kansas or a private one in the San Juan Islands, and now here in Vietnam. Everywhere the same. The feeling has become a comfortable one, consistent despite time or geography, an old friend that joins me at such pivotal and dynamic times.....

At the check in desk at the airport, I had too much luggage (Vietnamese flight restrictions are much different), but I haggled with the airport clerk to only make me pay overage for about half of the excess weight. (Dr. Thao suggested that tactic.)Despite a small flight delay of half an hour, the transit from Ha Noi to Nha Trang was seemless. Oh--they did take my carry on (because it was "too big"--but it clearly would have fit) and valeted it for the flight. After I got out my computer and valuables, I forgot to zip it back and everything fell out on the tarmac (sp?) when I picked it up. Two Vietnamese girls helped me through everything back in, though. Normally--by which I mean, back in the real world in the US--I would have been really frustrated. But these days, here, nothing seems to frustrate me. Maybe it's because I have different standards and expectations when I'm traveling, especially in a developing country. Maybe I just expect more minor complications, discomforts, inconveniences. But I dont really feel uncomfortable or inconvenienced, or that anything is too complicated. I think something inside me is just shifting. I'm calmer. It's true that I have fewer worries here, but that's not the only thing that's different. And I like it.

in the air

Now, finally to Nha Trang: I arrived in Nha Trang late and unsure if anyone would be at the airport to pick me up. I was told someone would be there, but since I was late, I wasn't sure if the plan would still hold up. This is where my no worrying helps: if no one was there, I would just find a cab, take it to the university, and figure it all out from there. Worst case scenario, I call Dr. Thao for help, and/or stay in a hotel for the night. No big deal. But, there were two people waiting with a sign that said "Mallory Powell - Fulbright". They were both English teachers from the school. They helped me with my bags and walked me to a big van full, to my surprise, with five Taiwanese professors. Apparently they were doing some conference here. I climbed in the van and rode into town, in awe of the beauty of Nha Trang, and silently chuckling to myself about my current situation: There I was, in a van, with three Vietnamese people, five friendly Taiwanese men, lots of languages in the air (Chinese, English, Vietnamese, and even French once the Vietnamese girl learned that I spoke French too), driving along mountains and beaches in Nha Trang, Vietnam. One more time: How is this my life????

off the plane at Cam Ranh Airport in Nha Trang

Driving into the city

Oanh, the friendly Vietnamese English teacher (and French speaker) who had picked me up at the airport, showed me to my room when we arrived at the university. The building is really beautiful on the outside and seems pretty new. I'm on the second floor, right beside two other American volunteer teachers. Katherine, who's 23, and Steven, who's 43. They arrived two weeks ago, and they're both vegetarians actually. (Well, Steven just doesn't eat mammals.) Katherine has been super helpful--taking me to the market to get supplies for my room, inviting me to dinner with her and her new friends, and (most importantly) telling me how to get to the beach. I can walk to the beach from my room. Yep, walk. I can even see the ocean from campus, which is a hill overlooking the sea.... Steven seems really nice, also, but I haven't spent much time with him.

After Oanh left me alone in my room, I felt a brief rush of sadness. I missed my room in Hanoi. I missed having my friends so close. I missed knowing where to buy water or get something to eat. I missed feeling at home. I guess I just felt....lonely. It's not a feeling I'm used to. Even when I'm alone, I hardly ever feel lonely. And it was the first time since coming to Viet Nam that I felt it. Also, my room, which is really very nice, was a little dirty (different standards of cleanliness) and the AC wasn't working. I decided to embrace the feeling of sadness, own it, let it inhabit me for a bit. I'm on the other side of the world, alone, in a new city, where I know no one and nothing, my fridge has some mold in it and the my ac isnt' working: It's ok if I feel lonely for a little bit! But I wouldn't let it stop me. I started cleaning. I found a broom and dustpan in the hallway, a rag in the closet, and went to it. Eventually I noticed that Katherine was home and went and introduced myself. When I asked her where I could get food--it was 6 and I hadnt' eaten since 11--she offered to take me a street place nearby where she can always find some vegetarian food. I got some food to go, and for 8000 vnd (50 cents), walked away with soup, rice, and veggies.

my building

Back in my room, someone came to fix my AC, which was a huge relief. I'll admit that I'm a total spoiled american about AC. I finished my dinner, washed it down with some water I bought across the street, and decided that I just had to rearrange my room. There are two beds in here, a desk, a small fridge, two beachy-looking chairs and a small table. The set up looked like a poorly designed hotel room, and it left me very little space to walk. After an hour and some sweating, I had everything perfect. The room just felt better. I put up my mosquito net--partly just for the novelty of it--and found myself quite satisfied with life.

closet, just inside the door

bathroom

Before rearranging

after first phase of rearranging

after second phase, and after waking up Monday morning

Then Katherine came by, and we talked for an hour or so. And Sam called my cell phone. The day was suddenly wonderful--a new room that I loved (after some elbow grease), a new friend, a call from Sam. Ultimately I fell asleep, exhausted and looking forward to a day of exploring.

I discovered, though, that the beds here are pretty uncomfortable, and i didn't sleep too well. Nevertheless, this morning I was up by 9 -- continuing the transition to somewhat more of a morning person -- and went to the market with Katherine and a Vietnamese student she's befriended. We were then joined by another guy, a friend of the student. They helped me haggle at the market while I was buying some basics for my room--bowls, knife, scissors, cutting board, rags, cups, baskets, hangers (all for about $10)--and insisted on carrying everything. Even the fruit that Katherine and I bought on the way home. Further proof that Vietnamese people are possibly the nicest on the planet.

walking to the market

I was home from the market by 11:30, and after a quick lunch of pomelo and some bread with cucumber, salt, and soysauce (bought it from a street vendor right outside my building), I succeeded in unpacking everything. I feel all the way at home now.

At 3pm I had a meeting with the Vice Dean (who I met last week at the Ambassador's Reception) to go over some what work I'll be doing. It was a brief meeting--she's a busy woman--and I didn't really learn anything I didn't already know. But oh well. I'll be assisting with 4 classes--two English major classes and two non-major--as well as working the English club and with "class meetings". Still not exactly sure what the latter is, but we'll get it worked out. Hong, the Vice Dean, also helped me arrange to buy a bike. She's sending one of the English teachers to help me on Thursday. Very exciting! A big expenditure but virtually necessary here.

Having gone to the market, cleaned and unpacked, and gone to my meeting, I had only one objective left for the day: the BEACH. I put on my suit, a skirt, a tshirt, and headed down the street to the beach. It's a 5 minute walk. (How is this my life?) The beach is beautiful. The weather here is perrrrfect, especially in the mornings and evenings. I spent the late afternoon and early evening walking along the beach. I had every intent of swimming, but no girl here over the age of 12 wears a bathing suit. They all swim in their clothes, and I felt kind of awkward. Plus I only have one towel at the moment--my bath towel--and I wasn't dying to get it sandy. So I just walked. I walked allllll the way down the beach and back. It took me a couple hours, but it was gorgeous, and like I said, the weather was perfect. And, for that matter, so is the water. Absolute perfect temperature. Not cold, not hot. Perfect. Baby bear porridge.

walking to the beach

Back at my room, Katherine invited me to dinner with some friends of hers, who turned out to be two guys who are students here. They speak pretty good english and are patient with our vegetarianism. We walked for a while, but ultimately couldn't find a decent vegetarian place to eat. We decided to assemble a meal ourselves and eat in Katherine's room. We bought some rice and veggies, watermelon, chom chom fruit, and the boys bought some baguettes, some sweetened condensed milk dip it in, and some rice cracker/paper stuff. I supplied some pepsi I had in my room, and it actually ended up being a huge meal.

On the way back to the room from buying the food, Katherine pointed out an old vietnamese man sitting on the sidewalk with basically two buckets in front of him. She told me that he speaks french and sells frozen yogurt, and a frozen treat of smashed banana, sweet condensed milk and peanuts. The latter cost 1,000 VND, or about 6 cents. I would have glady paid him 2 dollars for the delicious treat. When I walked up to him, he asked me in English if I wanted "banana". I said yes and he asked me in French if I spoke French. "Oui," I replied, and he started rattling on in French. He seemed to be comprehensible but his accent was thick and he didn't have many teeth yet. I think was talking about Germans and learning french and teaching French. He asked me if I was a teacher, and if I taught French or English. I bought two banana treats from him--one for me and one for Katherine--and was overjoyed at the entire transaction. The banana treat was so damn good. And since I'll probably be buying one from him nearly every day (a habit which will run me about 50 cents a week), at least I know I wont entirely lose my french.

And now, after the banana treats and an impromptu feast with Katherine and two Vietnamese kids (both actually older than me) on Katherine's floor, I'm cocooned in the mosquito-net that hangs over my bed, enjoying the fairly stable wifi and feeling happy, at home, calm, peaceful, accepting, excited, grateful, fortunate....overwhelmed by all of these things. I'm looking forward to another wonderful day tomorrow--it's Vietnamese Independence Day, so it should be exciting.

Updates should be more regular now, and photos will be on picasa soon**...The photos seem increasingly important on this trip as the locales just get more and more beautiful. Nha Trang is so beautiful--like I said, mountains, palm trees, stretches of beach, incredible rock outcroppings, nearly perfect weather.... I'm a very lucky girl.


**Actually, I just encountered a photo problem. Apparently I'm at my "upload max" because this thing is linked to my picasa, etc etc. So I'll have to work around that. But most likely no more pics here, and the rest on my new picasa.... :(