Keeping secrets

Sunday
We were to be intrepid fishermen, venturing into the green and brown unknown, sending lines into the depths, and pulling them out only when they strained against the weight of our would-be lunch. Or at least that's how I imagined it, but it was not to be. Our fishing expedition was actually to an open-air restaurant with rods for rent and murky waters allegedly filled with fish. Moreover, you were obligated to keep whatever bit, pay for the fish, and then pay for it to be prepared. It was decided that we would just order food, rather than fish. It was disappointing, but it made sense.

Entrance to where we did not fish

What we ate instead, part 1

What we ate instead, part 2

Out of the pot and into my bowl

On the way back I had a happy language moment. Vietnamese has many words taken from Chinese, and Trang informed me that they are generally considered more beautiful, poetic, intellectual, and elite than their Vietnamese counterparts. She cited a line from poetry as an example: 'the moon becomes the moon.' The first 'moon' is in Vietnamese; the second is in Vietnamese Chinese. So, literally translated it seems odd, but in Vietnamese it is clear that this mundane moon becomes a poetically beautiful moon (perhaps upon the arrival of one's lover). 

In the afternoon Trang invited me and Morena over to her house to fry spring rolls with some students she tutors. When I arrived I was told that they had Never Ever spoken English before. Though they have all studied English for nine years, they have only studied reading and writing. Let me repeat: they have been taught English, except for the extremely necessary components of speaking and listening. Understandably, they were hesitant, nervous, and excited to speak with me. After the frying there was the requisite photoshoot, a group photo and then a photo of each one with me and Morena on either side. Some of the girls decided to perform a dance routine for us. Trang's father arrived, unexpectedly, and decided to join the fray. After we ate a guitar materialized and he provided musical accompaniment for everyone bold or goaded enough to sing. Morena and I reprised our single Vietnamese song. [I forgot to mention, we also sang this in response to the river tour guide's serenading of us on the boat.] Suddenly Trang asked me if I knew 'The Yellow Rose of Texas.' Well, I knew it as well as anyone does; I knew the tune and the first line. I couldn't believe the surrealism of being halfway around the world and having a Vietnamese person request that I sing that song. Below, enjoy the last few seconds of our 'singing.'

The other end of the table

As the evening drew to a close, Kim Long took me to the city center to buy more yarn. Kim Long is Mr. Luan's assistant and she is my age. Her English is somewhat better than my Vietnamese, but we still have a hard time communicating. Last night, though we found a common language: shopping! At the night market she bought me a cutesy 'Engrish' (somewhat derogatory name for the hilarious pseudo English found abroad) shirt and I bought myself a pseudo-Vietnamese shirt. The only part that I could read was the first line, which says I (masculine) love you (feminine). I later received a full translation from Trang: "I love you. You are sunshine and without sunshine the dew cannot glitter." Not total nonsense, but nonetheless entertaining. I also accomplished my longstanding goal of acquiring a true Vietnamese hoodie. By that I mean a hoodie like the one almost all of my students have: two colors, diagonal zipper, and rainbow cuffs. Mine is black and red, a color combination I actually haven't seen on anyone else. I'm sure you'll see me in it soon enough.

Monday
Because this is Morena's last week, this is also the week where we fulfill all of her last wishes. Today, that meant going out for bia hoi, unpasteurized fresh beer. This being Vietnam, it was decided that this needed to happen at 11am. Fortunately, beer was accompanied by a lunch feast, and lunch was good. Fried rice, fish and green mango salad, a pork dish, a fish dish, and a hotpot finale of course.

First three and best three courses

In the evening we were supposed to go to My Tho, a city in Tien Giang, the neighboring province, to go shopping at its night market. However, about an hour before the teachers were going to pick us up, they canceled on us. As luck would have it, Morena and I were with a student who proceeded to offer to take us herself. We accepted. Here's the thing -- I'm not supposed to leave the province (or do pretty much anything) without asking permission or at least telling someone, and I'm not supposed to let students take me places on their bikes or motorbikes. So, I felt like quite the rebellious (no longer) teenager as I set off into the night, not so secretly since we have to pass the security gate and bike through town on our way.

After about 30 or 40 minutes we arrived in My Tho and started with dinner. I continued my rebellious streak by choosing two differently colored chopsticks. You may laugh, but my students found it quite unsettling.

Rebellion, I tell you!

 This night market is way bigger than Ben Tre's, which is about the length of one block, and perhaps even bigger than Hanoi's. It sprawls and winds and mazes around and even has carnival rides for kids. It was happening.

And then it went beyond Engrish...

It was a great night with friends, a successful shopping venture (two tank tops and a pair of shorts), and a taste of rebellion (or just independence) with no consequences as of this writing. If anyone asks, I stayed in tonight.