Crossing over

When I set out on Friday afternoon, I had no idea what an amazing weekend would be in store for me.

Morena and I set out for Tra Vinh on Friday afternoon. It is the neighboring province to the south, and the home of Violet, a fellow ETA. Two teachers offered to take us to the bus station to catch the bus to the ferry that would take us over into Tra Vinh. However, when we got to the bus station, the teachers got into an argument. Would this bus take us to the right place? Meanwhile, the bus driver was vigorously motioning for me and Morena to get on. It was decided that it was in fact the wrong bus, and we went to a bus stop on the side of the road instead. I still don't know why we couldn't catch that other bus at the bus station but, after 10 or 15 minutes of waiting, the bus came by and we got on, with only the slightest bit of trepidation on my part.

The bus we didn't take.

The hour-long bus ride took us over six rivers, past an unexpected cornfield, and honking past schoolgirls in white aó dài on bicycles looking like a graceful flock of sheep. Eventually, the bus came to its final stop and the bus driver signaled to us to go 'that way' to find the ferry. He said something including the word for the number two, and we had the sudden fear that we'd have to walk two kilometers to get to the ferry, but it was just around the bend. We arrived at the ferry just in time for sunset, and I said goodbye to self-control, taking a picture of every shift of light and water.

It was unreal.

On the Tra Vinh side of the river, Morena and I decided to eat while we waited for Violet and her friends to come pick us up. One place's sign listed bánh canh, the thick udon-like rice noodles, among other options and that struck my fancy. However, when I approached the cook to order, our conversation went like this:

- Bánh canh?
- Hủ tiếu. (Another dish served there)
- Bánh canh?
- Hủ tiếu?
- Bánh canh.

At first I thought they didn't have what I wanted, but eventually it turned out that for some reason she just didn't want to serve it to me. My insistence paid off and she begrudgingly pulled a handful of bánh canh noodles from under the hủ tiếu. I ate my piping hot soup in the sauna-like night, and I wondered how and why people eat soup in a country with this climate. Violet and some of her students arrived just as we were finishing, and soon we were zipping through winding country roads, lit only by our headlights and the waxing gibbous above. Even in the darkness, I could see that it was a beautiful trajectory. Dense fronds of water coconut gave way to dark expanses that could only be rice fields gave way to homes with open doors and illuminated statues of the Virgin Mary gave way to city lights. It was almost enough to convince me of the allure of motorcycling -- except for the tooth-rattling potholes. We made it to Tra Vinh University's main campus (there are four) in about 40 minutes. The whole journey was beautiful.

We had a second dinner with Violet, and enjoyed her preferred bánh ướt spot. It's a dish I often eat here, but I have to admit that hers is way better. She also ordered us some fried shrimp cakes and longan juice that were yummy new additions. We spent some time relaxing by the river before heading back to campus for a night in. I tried not to give in to the green-eyed monster over Violet's comparatively luxurious lodging. 

Bánh ướt in the upper left and longan juice on the right

Shrimp cakes

Saturday morning we indulged ourselves and slept in before adventuring around town. We visited a Khmer pagoda -- Tra Vinh is home to many Khmer people, and the province has over 100 Khmer pagodas. It wasn't just one building, it was a whole enormous complex of buildings, statues, and monk residences. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Near the entrance

Ruins

Giant sleeping buddha

Monk laundry

Our next stop was a Cao Dai temple. Cao Dai is a syncretistic religion established in the early 1900s. Most intriguing to me is that Victor Hugo is one of their three official saints. We were the only people around, other than someone sounding a gong from one of the two towers, and we climbed to the top of the other tower and got great views. Again, I'll let the pictures do the talking because if I did the talking, I'd be saying the words awesome and unique over and over again.

Inside, from the second level

Next level, looking out

From the top

Look who I found!

That afternoon Morena and I had agreed to participate in an ETA v. students soccer game. We thought it would be a casual game, but when the time came there was a ref and a real field, though the field was a ponding expanse of uneven wet sand. Splashing through water and kicking up sand just made for an even more dramatic game. We lost 1-0, but the game was called due to rain, so I like to think we might have made a comeback.

Sunday started bright and early at 630am, with a good bit of personal challenge. We were going to picnic with some of Violet's students at 730, and I agreed to go with her to the market beforehand to get some fruit. So we went. On bicycles. Turning left, over a bridge, around a roundabout, stopping at stoplights, and narrowly avoiding a few buses. I was proud of myself. I just had to keep myself from convincing myself that even though I could bike in traffic in Tra Vinh I can't do it in Ben Tre. I can and I will.

The picnic took us to Ba Om pond, a picturesque area of town. Legend has it that it was created during an ancient battle of the sexes competition to see whether men or women could dig a pond fastest. The women won, and it is named after their leader. We spent several hours grilling, chatting, singing, dancing, playing games, and taking pictures. Finally, a good two hours after we arrived, we got to eat, too.

A big, boisterous, precocious group

Malay apples, product of our trip to the market and a new fruit for me.

Just as we started packing up, we heard music in the distance. A procession was circling the pond on its way to the nearby Khmer temple. With the tinny music, it felt like we were following a spiritual ice cream truck. When we got to the temple, which was established in the 800s, they circled it three times. It was a beautiful and serendipitous experience.

On the temple grounds

In the evening, it was time for us to be in the spotlight. Violet's university was hosting a Khmer festival, featuring student singing and dancing performances. We helped with hair and makeup and then got in our aó dài because we (Violet, three Canadians also working at her University, and now me and Morena) would all be singing a song in Khmer. Nevermind that our rehearsal constituted of singing the song once, and we were expected to memorize Khmer words transliterated into Vietnamese orthography. My method was to remember the tune, the last word of each line, and to smile a lot. I think it worked out well enough. My camera battery died so no pictures of us singing until I can get some from someone else.

Getting ready

Student performers

We headed back home this morning and got to see the verdant sights that I missed on our nocturnal arrival. On the bus home I was listening to Dengue Fever, a Cambodian band whose music I like. Though the singing in Khmer felt like a relevant end-note to the weekend, its upbeat nature felt like music to start an adventure, not close one. But then I remembered, as long as I'm in Vietnam, every day is another adventure.