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.... :(