Creature from the black lagoon

Several of the teachers, including Trang, received promotions last week, so today we had a  celebratory 10:30am lunch. 

How to participate in social drinking in Vietnam:
At any celebration, there will be drinking. Even though proper demure Vietnamese women don't drink, you, as a westerner, fall under a different umbrella of social expectations. You will probably be served beer. It will be served with a huge block of ice because nobody actually refrigerates beers even though no one wants to drink them warm. This ice will be replenished over and over again throughout the meal, easily transforming a single bottle of beer into a multi-glass watery experience. The Vietnamese take not drinking alone very much to heart. Every time you want to take a sip or swig from your glass, raise it high and proclaim, 'Do!' (pronounced 'Yo!'). Everyone will shout 'Do!' with you, clink, and drink. You should always reply in kind to every call for do. But, it is up to you how much you drink each time.
Be wary of calls for trăm phần trăm, or 100%. It means exactly what it sounds like: bottoms up. Fortunately, if you are a woman, you can coyly decline. 
If you are a woman, expect to be asked how many drinks you can drink and whether you've ever been drunk. As with most Vietnamese interactions, a shy giggle can excuse you from actually answering.
If there are shots involved, women are usually exempt. However, a man might come offer you a shot glass, but the expectation is only that you take a sip, then pass it back to him or on to the next person, who will complete the shot. It is also worth noting that shot glasses here are significantly smaller than those in the states.
Refusing to drink altogether, especially if you are a man, makes you seem standoffish and unfriendly. Most business lunches, which are usually post-meeting meals that actually accomplish more than the meeting itself, are watered with a river of alcohol.



Just call me Swamp Thing. This evening my room was flooded worse than ever: deeper water and a farther expanse. It was after 5pm, so I called and texted almost everyone in my arsenal. The maintenance man's wife, who sometimes cleans my room, was sent to help but when she saw the water still spewing from my drain she just left. A small part of me felt guilty for not sucking it up and cleaning myself, but being inches deep in drain regurgitation while it kept on coming was just too much. The text I got from Mr. Luan, an administrator said, 'I know about your room. I very sad.' Not a valid reply. I wanted witnesses and solutions, not sadness. I was supposed to be teaching the teacher's English club, but instead I was seeking high ground -- easy enough to do since the floor is bowl-shaped, though unfortunately the lowest point is my bedroom -- and trying to ignite a solution. I texted Mr. Luan again saying something along the lines of 'I know you know but I want you to see this'. To no avail.

Part of what made the experience so frustrating, aside from its recurring nature, is the fact that anger is pointless. Getting angry, shouting, all of that, just makes you lose face. It won't make anyone take you more seriously; it will just make them feel sorry for you because you are embarrassing yourself. When I was still wading 30 minutes after discovering Lake Adelina's Room, you can be sure I was angry. But, instead I had to put on my nice face.

After getting no results from my text messages, I took a more direct approach. I marched my way over to the room where the club was meeting (under Morena's generous substitution), and told Mr. Luan in person that I needed him to come to my room and see. He seemed to find the idea funny, but he stopped laughing when he saw just how much water I was dealing with. Then, the fact that it was English club night came to my rescue. The Vice Rector is one of my students, and he and another teacher came over to survey the situation as well. After group wading and pointing and extensive discussion in Vietnamese, decisions were reached.

The maintenance man was sent to cover my drain to keep water from coming out (or going in). The students upstairs were told to STOP using whatever drain they have up there that feeds into mine. The cleaning helper returned and started sopping everything up. Tomorrow, people will come and fix things. If it works, I won't even complain about having to get up at 6am for them to do so. Here's hoping for a dry day.

From the source and down the hall. Still gushing.