Going back

12.30
We left Phu Quoc for Saigon, this time spending less than an hour in transit, thanks to the magic of airplanes. Our afternoon was largely uneventful, other than dinner. I took Elliot to try banh can, one of my favorite dishes in Saigon. I only know how to get there by way of somewhere else, but I thought I had figured out the address so that we could walk there directly. Unfortunately, the address I found was completely wrong. Fortunately, I managed to get us there anyway, making only one wrong turn in the process. (If Elliot is telling this story, he will insist that it was more than one wrong turn, but that is false.)

12.31
I saw a motorbike with six people on it when we were on the way to the War Remnants museum. My record thus far! I had chosen not to go to the museum, previously, and I was a little apprehensive about this visit. I envisioned an emotionally dark and gut-wrenching experience. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but I also exercised a lot of judgement in which exhibits I chose to see; some were just photos of victims of agent orange, for example. I spent the most time looking at a collection of international photojournalism from the war.

After lunch we headed to the Reunification Palace. On the way there, a Vietnamese man called out to Elliot to compliment his beard. At the palace we discovered that, for some reason, they had now removed all of the signs that tell you what each room is supposed to be, perhaps to make more people want to pay for a tour guide. While both the museum and the palace had a clear bias and agenda, Elliot found the historical video shown in the palace (during which I fell asleep, yet again, but not as early on, at least) to be the worst in that regard.

Looking out from the top of the palace

We went out for dinner with several other ETAs who were in town for New Year's, and rung in 2012 with the masses.

with the ETAs

Happy new year!

1.1.12
It was time for Elliot to go back to the U.S. I regret to report that our last meal in Vietnam was at a newly opened Burger King at the airport. I guess it was a good transition point.

Elliot packed light, unlike everyone else in front of him

time to say goobdye

When I left the airport I went to the dentist to investigate the toothache, and you already know what came of that. I was lucky that all of my fellow ETAs were still around, so saying goodbye to Elliot didn't leave me abruptly alone in the city. At night we saw many of the city's decadent new year's  decorations that were still up.

1.2.12
I had to wait until Tuesday to have the tooth extraction, so I had a leisurely day. I had a rich spinach lasagna for lunch and I realized that I might have a hard time re-adjusting to food in the US. In the afternoon I pursued some retail therapy.

1.3.12
It feels silly to call it surgery, even though I did get a couple stitches. The whole thing was pretty quick and easy. I only got a local anesthetic, and I was able to watch most of the procedure reflected in my dentist's goggles. I've heard so many stories of what comes afterward that I was expecting the worst, but I've been just fine. Just in case, I spent the day at the hotel. I was rewarded when I caught the last five regulation minutes of the Stanford-Oklahoma State bowl game. How I've missed football! Even though the nurse repeatedly urged me to 'stay on top of the pain killers,' and medicate before I felt pain, rather than after, I felt so fine that taking codeine just felt excessive. I didn't take any. I've pretty much felt fine to eat and all that this whole time, but I'm trying to be responsible and careful. No chipmunk face has developed.

This was taken today, the 5th, the day at which I should be at 'peak swelling'.
Do I look chipmunky to you?

1.4.12
I got back to Ben Tre with a feeling of deflating. Back to reality, back to the daily grind, back to being alone, back to not understanding the voices around me. But the reality is that reality isn't bad at all. At the mid-year conference we received letters we wrote to ourselves at the end of orientation in Hanoi. I was pretty sure my letter would just remind me of all the goals I have failed to reach (e.g. cook often, learn Vietnamese), and consequently was reluctant to read it. However, I found that what I wrote four months ago was well-worth reading. At this time of resolutions and new beginnings, I would do well to keep my words in mind:

I want to make a point of getting out of my room and letting people in. I want to be in people's lives outside of the classroom, and I want people in my life. I don't want to look back on my year and wish I'd done it differently. I don't want to hear other peoples stories and wish they were mine. I want to love my story.