This morning I had my Vietnamese lesson with Trang. I have very mixed feelings about learning Vietnamese. I came into this with high hopes of learning the language. Upon arrival I had a two-week crash course in 'survival Vietnamese'. Then I had two weeks off. Then I got to Ben Tre and spent about two more weeks reviewing the same survival Vietnamese. Then Morena got here and I had a handful of lessons the whole time she was here. Then I had two hectic months with frequent enough interruptions to normalcy that Vietnamese classes fell by the wayside. So, here I am, officially six months in, barely knowing more Vietnamese than I did two weeks in. I admit, part of me feels like what's the point? How much can I really learn in the next four months? But I know this is a self-defeating attitude. I know that if I believe I can learn Vietnamese I will be more willing to invest my time and energy to learn more, and therefore will be more likely to learn more. So I'm trying. Trying to try, anyway.
The rest of the day was generally uneventful. My biggest accomplishment was the fact that since I lesson planned over the weekend I was able to get my printouts and photocopies made for tomorrow today, rather than 10 minutes before the start of class, like I usually do.
31.1.12
30.1.12
No more Ms. Nice Guy
This morning's translation class didn't go badly, but it furthered my conviction that I am not really suited to teach this class. I thought I had had a brilliant idea when I assigned homework to write 10 sentences about an environmental issue (the topic of the semester) in Vietnamese and translate it into English. My plan was to use their work as warmup translation activities that would require minimal preparation/translation stress on my part. I went through and corrected their English errors, but naturally I couldn't evaluate their Vietnamese. I later discovered that it was unwise to assume that their Vietnamese would be just fine.
Then class started and we started translating. I asked one student to read the Vietnamese version of someone's paper, and another student had to translate it into English. The class kept giggling during the reading and, as usual, I didn't really know why. Eventually Trang stepped in and explained that the Vietnamese text was poorly written. Really? This was especially unexpected because I had chosen the most well-written assignments (based on the English) to be translated. I had assumed that the students would most likely write their assignment in Vietnamese first, because they are more comfortable with that, and then work on translating it into English. So, if something was well written in English it should have been just as well written, if not better, in the students' native language. Anyway, it turned out that some of the best English ones were practically incomprehensible in Vietnamese, or so I gathered. So, instead of enabling me to circumvent my limitations, this lesson plan further revealed my shortcomings. It was frustrating.
My next class was Speaking 2. This class went fine, but I got the sense that people were still adjusting back into school mode. There are a few students in this class who are always talking. Talking bothers me for many reasons. First, students are not respecting their peers. Second, it is incredibly distracting to me. Instead of listening to the student that I called on, I am trying to find out who is talking, how persistent a problem it is, and what I should do about it. I asked everyone to be quiet and listen to their classmates but, as usual, the following silence didn't last long. I had to pull out the big guns. I asked the students who were talking to stand up. That's it. I figured if one member of each talkative group of two or three were standing, it would be a lot harder for them to continue having semi-subtle conversations. They stood for the rest of the lesson. It didn't make me feel like a nice person, but it worked.
In the afternoon I had my monthly schedule meeting, at which is was not so shockingly revealed that I will not be teaching yoga "yet." As I learned a long time ago in Vietnam, I don't expect any plans to happen until they are happening. After that I suggested that Trang and I go to the place next to her house for fried fertilized duck eggs. When we got there they set up a table for us, but then Trang decided it was too sunny. So, the shopkeeper picked up our whole table and moved it into Trang's yard. Now that's what I call service!
Then class started and we started translating. I asked one student to read the Vietnamese version of someone's paper, and another student had to translate it into English. The class kept giggling during the reading and, as usual, I didn't really know why. Eventually Trang stepped in and explained that the Vietnamese text was poorly written. Really? This was especially unexpected because I had chosen the most well-written assignments (based on the English) to be translated. I had assumed that the students would most likely write their assignment in Vietnamese first, because they are more comfortable with that, and then work on translating it into English. So, if something was well written in English it should have been just as well written, if not better, in the students' native language. Anyway, it turned out that some of the best English ones were practically incomprehensible in Vietnamese, or so I gathered. So, instead of enabling me to circumvent my limitations, this lesson plan further revealed my shortcomings. It was frustrating.
My next class was Speaking 2. This class went fine, but I got the sense that people were still adjusting back into school mode. There are a few students in this class who are always talking. Talking bothers me for many reasons. First, students are not respecting their peers. Second, it is incredibly distracting to me. Instead of listening to the student that I called on, I am trying to find out who is talking, how persistent a problem it is, and what I should do about it. I asked everyone to be quiet and listen to their classmates but, as usual, the following silence didn't last long. I had to pull out the big guns. I asked the students who were talking to stand up. That's it. I figured if one member of each talkative group of two or three were standing, it would be a lot harder for them to continue having semi-subtle conversations. They stood for the rest of the lesson. It didn't make me feel like a nice person, but it worked.
In the afternoon I had my monthly schedule meeting, at which is was not so shockingly revealed that I will not be teaching yoga "yet." As I learned a long time ago in Vietnam, I don't expect any plans to happen until they are happening. After that I suggested that Trang and I go to the place next to her house for fried fertilized duck eggs. When we got there they set up a table for us, but then Trang decided it was too sunny. So, the shopkeeper picked up our whole table and moved it into Trang's yard. Now that's what I call service!
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| Giving home delivery a whole new meaning |
29.1.12
Morning away
This morning Trang's sister, Thuy, picked me up to take me out to eat. I don't know what I expected (Vietnam taught me a long time ago not to waste time with expectations), but what happened certainly wasn't it. I met her at the school gate and she had her three-year-old son sitting in front of her on the motorbike. We got on the road and she told me we'd be going a little far. I said that was fine. I didn't realize that 'far' meant that we were going to another province. We went to the city of My Tho in Tien Giang Province. It's only on the other side of the Mekong, but it takes about 40 minutes to get there you have to cross the longest bridge in southern Vietnam. I've been trying to get a good picture of the bridge for the last six months, but I'd only ever crossed it at night or on a bus. Being on the back of a motorbike makes photography a lot easier.
We arrived at her favorite cafe and proceeded to feast. We had fish soup, roasted pork short ribs, and a squid dish with vegetables. Thuy told me that she and her husband often eat here on the weekend or on nights when they don't feel like cooking. They live on the north side of Ben Tre Province, so it's a much shorter ride for them. It was a really lovely, peaceful, comfortable way to spend the morning. On the way home I reflected upon the fact that this was the kind of weekend morning I love: a day trip with a friend. A jaunt somewhere different, just for the fun of it. Thuy told me that whenever she has free time she goes out and does something. I think I'll start trying to join in on her outings.
In the evening Trang and I went out for pho. I wanted to see her but I also wanted to talk to her about the oral translation class I'm teaching. Planning it is generally stressful because I don't really feel capable of teaching it. How am I supposed to teach translation when I only know one of the languages involved? Last class, Trang didn't want to sit in because the thought that the students would feel more comfortable with me if she weren't around. However, I just felt uncomfortable and somewhat undermined by the fact that I had to ask my students whether their peers' oral translations were correct. Tonight we agreed that she will be present and participate in my lesson tomorrow. We'll see how it goes.
Another thing we talked about was this past week of Tet. Trang was worried that I had been feeling overbooked and tired. You know that I was, but I didn't want to say so and seem ungrateful for everyone's generosity. However, she said that she worried that I felt that way because she herself would have felt that way in my situation. She would have wanted some time to herself. I have been feeling guilty and ungrateful for not being delighted and energetic every moment through Tet, and hearing her say that made me feel validated. It was a big weight off of my shoulders.
Now, post-Tet, my schedule is switching back to early morning teaching, like it was during my first few weeks back in September. I start teaching tomorrow, bright and early. After finishing my turned-upside-down day, I'll have a schedule meeting to discuss the inversion of my schedule. Naturally.
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| Mother and son |
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| Approaching the bridge |
We arrived at her favorite cafe and proceeded to feast. We had fish soup, roasted pork short ribs, and a squid dish with vegetables. Thuy told me that she and her husband often eat here on the weekend or on nights when they don't feel like cooking. They live on the north side of Ben Tre Province, so it's a much shorter ride for them. It was a really lovely, peaceful, comfortable way to spend the morning. On the way home I reflected upon the fact that this was the kind of weekend morning I love: a day trip with a friend. A jaunt somewhere different, just for the fun of it. Thuy told me that whenever she has free time she goes out and does something. I think I'll start trying to join in on her outings.
In the evening Trang and I went out for pho. I wanted to see her but I also wanted to talk to her about the oral translation class I'm teaching. Planning it is generally stressful because I don't really feel capable of teaching it. How am I supposed to teach translation when I only know one of the languages involved? Last class, Trang didn't want to sit in because the thought that the students would feel more comfortable with me if she weren't around. However, I just felt uncomfortable and somewhat undermined by the fact that I had to ask my students whether their peers' oral translations were correct. Tonight we agreed that she will be present and participate in my lesson tomorrow. We'll see how it goes.
Another thing we talked about was this past week of Tet. Trang was worried that I had been feeling overbooked and tired. You know that I was, but I didn't want to say so and seem ungrateful for everyone's generosity. However, she said that she worried that I felt that way because she herself would have felt that way in my situation. She would have wanted some time to herself. I have been feeling guilty and ungrateful for not being delighted and energetic every moment through Tet, and hearing her say that made me feel validated. It was a big weight off of my shoulders.
Now, post-Tet, my schedule is switching back to early morning teaching, like it was during my first few weeks back in September. I start teaching tomorrow, bright and early. After finishing my turned-upside-down day, I'll have a schedule meeting to discuss the inversion of my schedule. Naturally.
28.1.12
Tetetetetet
Like I said in my last post, Tet has been a bit of an emotional carnival ride (less dramatic than a roller coaster). At good moments, I appreciate the generosity of every person who opens their home to me. At bad moments I wonder whether people only invite me because they want the luck I allegedly bring, or to have the honor of being able to say they were one of my Tet hosts. At in-between moments, it occurs to me that my sometimes overwhelming schedule is very likely a culturally misinformed favor. If solitude is inherently sad in Vietnamese culture, allowing me to be alone during Tet is unimaginable, though at times it's all I want.
Yesterday I was tempted to say I was too tired for my morning plans, but I decided to stick it out. The previous night had shown that I shouldn't assume I know what's in store for me. However, fate took my side and my morning plans were canceled. In the afternoon I met with some student-aged people and we went to the house of a woman I don't know. We had more spring rolls and a new 'treat': rice balls soaked in rice wine. It tasted and felt like eating very fermented dough. I tried to get away with not eating very many, but I was told that they are a Tet specialty and are good for digestion. Since nobody other than the host seemed to have much interest in eating theirs, though, I let myself ignore the insistence that I eat more.
I thought I'd be going home after this, but instead I found out that we were going to the house I was supposed to visit in the morning. Mr. Luan and I were greeted by Mr. Chau. He has, hands down, the nicest house (or perhaps just the most westerner-friendly) I've seen in Vietnam. It has a western-style kitchen, a bathroom the size of my room, and at least two flat screen TVs. The three of us were the only people there, and after a brief look around we sat. Mr. Luan and Mr. Chau chatted and I ate what I later found out were candied lotus seeds. After twenty minutes of tea drinking and the two of them chatting, it was time for me to go home. This visit only furthered my curiosity as to why exactly I was invited to some of the things I was invited to this week.
Today was much more relaxed. I had an early lunch with several female teachers and then had the day to myself. They spoke little English with me, but they didn't spring any extra activities on me, so things went smoothly.
I spent the afternoon finally relaxing and grading an essay assignment I gave right before Tet. While grading I learned some new words from my students: rabbage and gabbage. I'm guessing they come from poor pronunciation and perhaps a combination of the words rubbish and garbage. Most of the papers were on more or less the same level, but a few were quite outstanding. Unfortunately, a few of those outstanding papers had sentences that reappeared in other students' papers. Disheartening to say the least. Here's hoping that some well-distributed zeros (hard to do, but necessary) will inspire some changes.
When I bought my first set of pajamas I thought I'd be buying a new set each month because they're just so darn comfortable. Through a combination of self-control and the fact that no other pajamas have been able to measure up, I've stuck with the one pair. But, as Tet is a time for new clothes, I've been seriously considering finding a second set. Along with this intention, I've been thinking about whether I would wear those pajamas back in the US. I know I still have several months to go, but my future life is feeling more and more like a necessary consideration. Anyway, I happened upon this article in support of pajamas. Who knew Vietnam was so progressive (or lacking in moral fiber, depending on your opinion)?
Yesterday I was tempted to say I was too tired for my morning plans, but I decided to stick it out. The previous night had shown that I shouldn't assume I know what's in store for me. However, fate took my side and my morning plans were canceled. In the afternoon I met with some student-aged people and we went to the house of a woman I don't know. We had more spring rolls and a new 'treat': rice balls soaked in rice wine. It tasted and felt like eating very fermented dough. I tried to get away with not eating very many, but I was told that they are a Tet specialty and are good for digestion. Since nobody other than the host seemed to have much interest in eating theirs, though, I let myself ignore the insistence that I eat more.
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| at Mr. Luan's house with him and the students before going to the woman's house |
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| like taking chewy shots |
I thought I'd be going home after this, but instead I found out that we were going to the house I was supposed to visit in the morning. Mr. Luan and I were greeted by Mr. Chau. He has, hands down, the nicest house (or perhaps just the most westerner-friendly) I've seen in Vietnam. It has a western-style kitchen, a bathroom the size of my room, and at least two flat screen TVs. The three of us were the only people there, and after a brief look around we sat. Mr. Luan and Mr. Chau chatted and I ate what I later found out were candied lotus seeds. After twenty minutes of tea drinking and the two of them chatting, it was time for me to go home. This visit only furthered my curiosity as to why exactly I was invited to some of the things I was invited to this week.
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| Fancy, huh? |
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| The dining room, with the kitchen in the background |
Today was much more relaxed. I had an early lunch with several female teachers and then had the day to myself. They spoke little English with me, but they didn't spring any extra activities on me, so things went smoothly.
I spent the afternoon finally relaxing and grading an essay assignment I gave right before Tet. While grading I learned some new words from my students: rabbage and gabbage. I'm guessing they come from poor pronunciation and perhaps a combination of the words rubbish and garbage. Most of the papers were on more or less the same level, but a few were quite outstanding. Unfortunately, a few of those outstanding papers had sentences that reappeared in other students' papers. Disheartening to say the least. Here's hoping that some well-distributed zeros (hard to do, but necessary) will inspire some changes.
When I bought my first set of pajamas I thought I'd be buying a new set each month because they're just so darn comfortable. Through a combination of self-control and the fact that no other pajamas have been able to measure up, I've stuck with the one pair. But, as Tet is a time for new clothes, I've been seriously considering finding a second set. Along with this intention, I've been thinking about whether I would wear those pajamas back in the US. I know I still have several months to go, but my future life is feeling more and more like a necessary consideration. Anyway, I happened upon this article in support of pajamas. Who knew Vietnam was so progressive (or lacking in moral fiber, depending on your opinion)?
26.1.12
Eat Tet
1.25.12
Usually, in Vietnamese, instead of saying that one celebrates Tet, it is said that one eats Tet. I think by now it should be clear why. Even though I have two weeks off for Tet, there are three essential days of Tet. On mùng một, the first day of the lunar new year, you are supposed to celebrate with family. No one has managed to agree on the order of the next two days, but one is for visiting friends and one is for visiting teachers.
Ms. Lieu picked me up and we stopped by her brother's house and then went to her parent's house. Similarly to yesterday, instead of spending time with her whole family, I spent time with her, her brother, and two high school English teachers who were in my FCE class. As much as, conceptually, it would be nicer to be integrated into the family's celebration, I think this arrangement suits me better. At the houses where it has been all Vietnamese, all the time, I sometimes wind up feeling like just another lucky Tet decoration. It was a very leisurely morning. We chatted and drank tea and coconut juice for a couple hours, then I was directed to a hammock and I napped until food was ready.
We ate traditional Tet food, which mostly just means we ate more or less the same thing I've eaten at every house so far. There was one new dish though, with duck, bamboo, and mushrooms, that somehow tasted just like barbecue. After eating we had more tea and then went for coffee. We went to the Co Chien riverside and the road literally ran into the river, because this is a ferry stop. It was a beautiful breezy place and it was really relaxing.
Our next stop was Ms. Lieu's brother's place. Time for more food. This time we were eating mắm công, fish sauce with crab over vermicelli noodles with pork, herbs, sprouts, and peanuts. It was delicious.
On the way home it started to sprinkle. I knew there was no way we were going to make it before the sky opened up because it was a pretty long ride. We went as far as we could, and when it really started pouring we pulled over to take shelter under someone's awning. Ms. Liu told me, "It never rains during the dry season, but it's raining." I noticed. We didn't have to wait too long before the sky cleared again and we finished the ride back home.
1.26.12
It was an up and down day. I woke up in a great mood. But, by the time we got to Mr. Hung's house, I was in less of a good mood. No idea why. Maybe it was because Mr. Luan was there too. Mr. Hung and Mr. Luan are the two people I work for/with when I am attempting those mind-numbing translations, so I generally associate them with stress and confusion, though I try not to. To make matters worse, thanks to Friday night's events, I now also associate Mr. Luan with being sick to my stomach. Poor guy can't win for trying.
On the way to Mr. Hung's house, Trang told me that she had gone to visit her husband's parents yesterday, and that it had been a very long ride. She let her son drive her there and back, but she said, "My son rode me there." Teaching moment! People frequently ask me whether I can 'ride a motorbike'. I have come to infer that they conflate to ride and to drive, and so I usually answer with something like 'I can ride on the back but I cannot drive one.' Since Vietnamese people's pronunciation renders the two verbs practically indistinguishable, I don't think anyone has ever noticed my specificity. Anyway, with Trang I said, 'he drove you.' She repeated, 'he rove me?' 'No, he DROVE you.' It took a few more rounds of back and forth, but eventually she got it and was quite shocked to learn this new information.
I tried to help in the kitchen, but I was relegated to my two main jobs: slicing bread (and apparently this merited a picture) and ferrying things from the kitchen to the table. Eating tet has shown me that way more dishes fit on a table than heretofore imaginable. This had led to a new theory: Vietnamese people eat out of small bowls because they take up less table space than plates. In between trips to and from the kitchen, I talked to Mr. Hung. He showed me a picture of himself and a little girl and a young woman.
- "This is my daughter."
- "How old is she?"
- "She was born in 1980."
- "1980? Your daughter is 32 years old?"
- "Yes."
I was confused. The little girl looked about 4.
- "Is this an old picture?"
- "Yes, it was taken three years ago."
- "And she was born in 1980?"
- "Yes."
At this point I was really confused, because Mr. Hung doesn't look like he could be much past 40. I started to think that maybe the young woman I assumed to be his wife was an older daughter. I asked,
- "Which one is your daughter?"
He pointed at the little girl.
- "And she was born in 1980? She's 32?"
- "Yes."
I gave up. Later I asked Ms. Trang, who asked him. For some unfathomable reason, despite the fact that he clearly understood that we had been talking about his daughter because he even pointed her out to me in the photograph, he kept telling me his wife's age.
The food was delicious -- just beef stew that Mr. Hung made himself and the spread for build your own spring rolls. I realized I could easily make spring rolls on my own in the US. It might not be the most exciting culinary skill to bring back from Vietnam, but it's something.
I had a couple of hours of downtime in the afternoon before my next stop, but the hours of peace and productivity made me wish I had the rest of the day free. I was not terribly enthusiastic when it came time to go, especially since I didn't even know where I was going, despite my many inquiries. It didn't help that I got 'picked up' at 330 but then we hung around by the college gate for 45 minutes waiting for someone to come replace Mr. Luan for security duty. It's easy to get in a grumpy rut and I was trying really hard not to have a bad attitude.
My luck and mood changed when we arrived at the house we were visiting (I still don't know the name of our host). Her son asked me if I wanted "tea or, like, pure water." At the sound of that "like" my ears and mood perked up. Clearly this English speaker was a cut above. I soon discovered that he has been living in Singapore for the last seven years and is pretty much fluent in English now. We spent the rest of the evening in easy conversation. It was so nice to be able to talk at a completely natural pace without having to sidestep tricky grammar structures. He coddled me a little about Vietnamese culture, asking me if I 'dared' to try a watermelon, orange, and a Malay apple. First of all, two are perfectly common in the US, and the other I've had several times. Other than a few similar incidents, we got along really well.
After diner, which was more spring roll building, I thought it was time to go home, but I was wrong. We were going to Ms. Nga's house for '10 minutes'. Famous last words. We only spent 40 minutes there, but they felt more than long enough once Ms. Nga's husband arrived; he was drunk and only knew how to say 'I love you' in English. Can we go home yet?
Usually, in Vietnamese, instead of saying that one celebrates Tet, it is said that one eats Tet. I think by now it should be clear why. Even though I have two weeks off for Tet, there are three essential days of Tet. On mùng một, the first day of the lunar new year, you are supposed to celebrate with family. No one has managed to agree on the order of the next two days, but one is for visiting friends and one is for visiting teachers.
Ms. Lieu picked me up and we stopped by her brother's house and then went to her parent's house. Similarly to yesterday, instead of spending time with her whole family, I spent time with her, her brother, and two high school English teachers who were in my FCE class. As much as, conceptually, it would be nicer to be integrated into the family's celebration, I think this arrangement suits me better. At the houses where it has been all Vietnamese, all the time, I sometimes wind up feeling like just another lucky Tet decoration. It was a very leisurely morning. We chatted and drank tea and coconut juice for a couple hours, then I was directed to a hammock and I napped until food was ready.
We ate traditional Tet food, which mostly just means we ate more or less the same thing I've eaten at every house so far. There was one new dish though, with duck, bamboo, and mushrooms, that somehow tasted just like barbecue. After eating we had more tea and then went for coffee. We went to the Co Chien riverside and the road literally ran into the river, because this is a ferry stop. It was a beautiful breezy place and it was really relaxing.
 |
| The end of the road |
Our next stop was Ms. Lieu's brother's place. Time for more food. This time we were eating mắm công, fish sauce with crab over vermicelli noodles with pork, herbs, sprouts, and peanuts. It was delicious.
 |
| The spread |
 |
| The claw |
On the way home it started to sprinkle. I knew there was no way we were going to make it before the sky opened up because it was a pretty long ride. We went as far as we could, and when it really started pouring we pulled over to take shelter under someone's awning. Ms. Liu told me, "It never rains during the dry season, but it's raining." I noticed. We didn't have to wait too long before the sky cleared again and we finished the ride back home.
1.26.12
It was an up and down day. I woke up in a great mood. But, by the time we got to Mr. Hung's house, I was in less of a good mood. No idea why. Maybe it was because Mr. Luan was there too. Mr. Hung and Mr. Luan are the two people I work for/with when I am attempting those mind-numbing translations, so I generally associate them with stress and confusion, though I try not to. To make matters worse, thanks to Friday night's events, I now also associate Mr. Luan with being sick to my stomach. Poor guy can't win for trying.
On the way to Mr. Hung's house, Trang told me that she had gone to visit her husband's parents yesterday, and that it had been a very long ride. She let her son drive her there and back, but she said, "My son rode me there." Teaching moment! People frequently ask me whether I can 'ride a motorbike'. I have come to infer that they conflate to ride and to drive, and so I usually answer with something like 'I can ride on the back but I cannot drive one.' Since Vietnamese people's pronunciation renders the two verbs practically indistinguishable, I don't think anyone has ever noticed my specificity. Anyway, with Trang I said, 'he drove you.' She repeated, 'he rove me?' 'No, he DROVE you.' It took a few more rounds of back and forth, but eventually she got it and was quite shocked to learn this new information.
I tried to help in the kitchen, but I was relegated to my two main jobs: slicing bread (and apparently this merited a picture) and ferrying things from the kitchen to the table. Eating tet has shown me that way more dishes fit on a table than heretofore imaginable. This had led to a new theory: Vietnamese people eat out of small bowls because they take up less table space than plates. In between trips to and from the kitchen, I talked to Mr. Hung. He showed me a picture of himself and a little girl and a young woman.
- "This is my daughter."
- "How old is she?"
- "She was born in 1980."
- "1980? Your daughter is 32 years old?"
- "Yes."
I was confused. The little girl looked about 4.
- "Is this an old picture?"
- "Yes, it was taken three years ago."
- "And she was born in 1980?"
- "Yes."
At this point I was really confused, because Mr. Hung doesn't look like he could be much past 40. I started to think that maybe the young woman I assumed to be his wife was an older daughter. I asked,
- "Which one is your daughter?"
He pointed at the little girl.
- "And she was born in 1980? She's 32?"
- "Yes."
I gave up. Later I asked Ms. Trang, who asked him. For some unfathomable reason, despite the fact that he clearly understood that we had been talking about his daughter because he even pointed her out to me in the photograph, he kept telling me his wife's age.
The food was delicious -- just beef stew that Mr. Hung made himself and the spread for build your own spring rolls. I realized I could easily make spring rolls on my own in the US. It might not be the most exciting culinary skill to bring back from Vietnam, but it's something.
 |
| Not even close to everything we fit on that table |
I had a couple of hours of downtime in the afternoon before my next stop, but the hours of peace and productivity made me wish I had the rest of the day free. I was not terribly enthusiastic when it came time to go, especially since I didn't even know where I was going, despite my many inquiries. It didn't help that I got 'picked up' at 330 but then we hung around by the college gate for 45 minutes waiting for someone to come replace Mr. Luan for security duty. It's easy to get in a grumpy rut and I was trying really hard not to have a bad attitude.
My luck and mood changed when we arrived at the house we were visiting (I still don't know the name of our host). Her son asked me if I wanted "tea or, like, pure water." At the sound of that "like" my ears and mood perked up. Clearly this English speaker was a cut above. I soon discovered that he has been living in Singapore for the last seven years and is pretty much fluent in English now. We spent the rest of the evening in easy conversation. It was so nice to be able to talk at a completely natural pace without having to sidestep tricky grammar structures. He coddled me a little about Vietnamese culture, asking me if I 'dared' to try a watermelon, orange, and a Malay apple. First of all, two are perfectly common in the US, and the other I've had several times. Other than a few similar incidents, we got along really well.
After diner, which was more spring roll building, I thought it was time to go home, but I was wrong. We were going to Ms. Nga's house for '10 minutes'. Famous last words. We only spent 40 minutes there, but they felt more than long enough once Ms. Nga's husband arrived; he was drunk and only knew how to say 'I love you' in English. Can we go home yet?
 |
| Look at this cutie! I was visited by a praying mantis. |
25.1.12
Miles in the snow
I finally had the morning to myself, and I admit that it was a relief. Mr. Vu picked me up at 2pm and took me to his parents' house. I had been hoping to meet his wife and sons but apparently they were at her grandparents' house. I found myself in the midst of the Ben Tre I'd always imagined but never really seen. One left turn and then a right took me into the midst of rice paddies and coconut palms. Obviously I've seen both of these things while here, but I never knew just how close they were to campus. The ride earned me the self-granted distinction of riding about 40km, round trip, sidesaddle. On the way, Mr. Vu stopped to buy me a face mask. Consider me one step closer to being a local -- or at least one cover-up closer into blending in with them.
When we got to his house we spent the first hour or so just chatting over coconut water and fruit. Through a series of conversational tangents I ended up talking to Mr. Vu about the slang usage of the words 'cougar' and 'gold digger.' He responded in kind by telling me about relationships between teachers and students. I tried to wrap my head around the news that several male English teachers at the college have married former students, and a few of the female teachers are married to their former teachers. It was hard to keep judgment out it. We talked about many other things, however. Mr. Vu is one of my favorite teachers (though I don't actually work with him), mostly because I feel comfortable around him. He told me that he had been invited to attend a TESOL conference in Bangkok and one in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the one in Bangkok is in about four days, so he won't be going to that. Unfortunately again, it is not likely that he'll be able to attend the one in Philadelphia, either, because it's really hard to get permission to leave. All the hoops I have to jump through around here? They're about five times worse for citizens. For some reason, the school officials are more likely to not permit their educators to leave the country for professional development than they are likely to allow it. Why? This frustrates me. Not only are they depriving their employees of opportunity, they are depriving their students of the benefits they could access by having professors with these kinds of experiences. But, even if he does get permission, the invitation is just an invitation, and he'd have to foot the hefty bill of airfare and lodging.
Mr. Vu spent a lot of time telling me about how different things were, not too many years ago. He said that nobody in his area had any vehicles until about 20 years ago. He still remembers the first time he and everyone in his neighborhood first saw a motorbike. They thought it was so strange. When he was a kid, bicycles were too expensive. He walked to school every day, and luckily it was only about 1km away. But then, when he had to go to secondary school, it was 7km away. Many of his classmates had to stop going to school, but he loved learning. He woke up at 3am every day to be able to make it to school in time. This sounds like the archetypal old man's story of walking to school uphill two miles in the snow, both ways, but it's almost nine miles round trip in the Mekong heat. Talk about commitment. Talk about the rest of us taking things for granted.
We were joined by three of his past students who were in the first graduating class that he taught, so they are almost his age. A little later one of my students, who is also Mr. Vu's cousin, came over too. Based on the last few days I had expected to have a huge meal with Mr. Vu's extended family, but I only met them when I arrived (and several of them said that I look like one of Mr. Vu's cousins), and I had dinner outside with Mr. Vu and the other guests. It was a very laid back meal, not to say that it was not abundant. We barely made a dent in the spread before us. I kind of got the impression that we were all eating out of politeness because everyone is perpetually stuffed during Tet. During the meal I mostly talked to my student. It was nice to just chat with her one-on-one. The evening lasted just the right length, and before we left I received my first ever envelope of lucky money. I thought I was too old for such a gift, but I'm not complaining.
When we got to his house we spent the first hour or so just chatting over coconut water and fruit. Through a series of conversational tangents I ended up talking to Mr. Vu about the slang usage of the words 'cougar' and 'gold digger.' He responded in kind by telling me about relationships between teachers and students. I tried to wrap my head around the news that several male English teachers at the college have married former students, and a few of the female teachers are married to their former teachers. It was hard to keep judgment out it. We talked about many other things, however. Mr. Vu is one of my favorite teachers (though I don't actually work with him), mostly because I feel comfortable around him. He told me that he had been invited to attend a TESOL conference in Bangkok and one in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the one in Bangkok is in about four days, so he won't be going to that. Unfortunately again, it is not likely that he'll be able to attend the one in Philadelphia, either, because it's really hard to get permission to leave. All the hoops I have to jump through around here? They're about five times worse for citizens. For some reason, the school officials are more likely to not permit their educators to leave the country for professional development than they are likely to allow it. Why? This frustrates me. Not only are they depriving their employees of opportunity, they are depriving their students of the benefits they could access by having professors with these kinds of experiences. But, even if he does get permission, the invitation is just an invitation, and he'd have to foot the hefty bill of airfare and lodging.
Mr. Vu spent a lot of time telling me about how different things were, not too many years ago. He said that nobody in his area had any vehicles until about 20 years ago. He still remembers the first time he and everyone in his neighborhood first saw a motorbike. They thought it was so strange. When he was a kid, bicycles were too expensive. He walked to school every day, and luckily it was only about 1km away. But then, when he had to go to secondary school, it was 7km away. Many of his classmates had to stop going to school, but he loved learning. He woke up at 3am every day to be able to make it to school in time. This sounds like the archetypal old man's story of walking to school uphill two miles in the snow, both ways, but it's almost nine miles round trip in the Mekong heat. Talk about commitment. Talk about the rest of us taking things for granted.
We were joined by three of his past students who were in the first graduating class that he taught, so they are almost his age. A little later one of my students, who is also Mr. Vu's cousin, came over too. Based on the last few days I had expected to have a huge meal with Mr. Vu's extended family, but I only met them when I arrived (and several of them said that I look like one of Mr. Vu's cousins), and I had dinner outside with Mr. Vu and the other guests. It was a very laid back meal, not to say that it was not abundant. We barely made a dent in the spread before us. I kind of got the impression that we were all eating out of politeness because everyone is perpetually stuffed during Tet. During the meal I mostly talked to my student. It was nice to just chat with her one-on-one. The evening lasted just the right length, and before we left I received my first ever envelope of lucky money. I thought I was too old for such a gift, but I'm not complaining.
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| Mr. Vu and I |
24.1.12
Enter the dragon
Welcome to the year of the dragon! By Vietnamese measure, I am officially 24. Literally since my first day in Ben Tre, I was asked what my Tet plans were. Naturally, I had none. Campus wheels have been turning since then, and I finally get to experience the plans that have been underway since August.
1.20.12
I got back from HCMC in the morning and I was supposed to meet Mr. Luan and his family at 5pm. To be honest, this was the Tet day I'd been most worried about; because Mr. Luan is my supervisor for translations, I associate him with feelings of stress and frustration. However, we got off to a great start. It turns out that when we're one on one and having casual conversation instead of trying to exchange instructions, playing English fill-in-the-blank isn't so bad. I joined him, his wife, his son, and Ms. My (remember her from my early bike riding days?) at the flower market. Everyone thinks the flower market is the most beautiful thing ever and has been talking to me about it for weeks. One street along the river gets overrun by plant vendors selling everything from potted flowers to small flowering trees to pepper plants. It was pretty, but it wasn't as stunning to me as everyone else seems to think it is. We spent most of the time strolling and chatting and exchanging English and Vietnamese names for each plant. They bought me a cotton candy and, I kid you not, after little more than a minute it started melting and crystallizing. Essentially, the extreme humidity in the air was causing it to do what it would normally do in your mouth.
I'm not sure at what point I started feeling unwell, whether it was before the pre-moistened cotton candy or after, but by the time we headed to dinner I was definitely feeling worried. We found a place that sold bánh xèo. I tried to use my sneaky tactic of eating slowly to avoid getting too many refills, but it didn't quite work. At some point, everyone else got full, and it was decided that it was my job to finish what was left. Long before this point, I was already struggling. I was not happy with this decision. Maybe I was too tired to resist, or maybe they were unusually forceful, but I ended up eating way way more than my body was willing to accept. And then we went somewhere else for dessert. I wasn't able to decline ordering dessert, but I did succeed in leaving it unfinished. All of that food ended up making a comeback later that evening. While it was unpleasant, it taught me that I need to be willing to stand firmer when I feel full in the coming days of feasting.
1.21.12
My next Tet stop was Mr. Bao Duy's house. He is the head of the English department. His wife picked me up and when I got to his house I spent a while hanging out with his kids. The whole family speaks English quite well, so socializing was very easy for me. His daughter is 20 and studies accounting at a university HCMC. It turns out that she doesn't really like accounting and is only studying it because she didn't know what to study and her dad recommended it. She's planning on being an accountant, anyway, but what she really likes is journalism, which she is involved in during her free time. His son is still in elementary school but speaks English excellently, though of course somewhat shyly. They have a tiny, adorable, bug-eyed, chihuahua-like puppy that was literally an ankle-biter.
Mr. Bao Duy invited me to photograph him making offerings at his family altar, and then it was time to eat. Very much in contrast with what normally happens, I experienced almost no insistence that I eat more and hardly any food ended up on my plate that I didn't put there myself. I had to wonder if word might have gotten out about the results from the night before. After the meal they saw the impending post-meal-coma in my eyes and offered me a bed to take a nap. Saints! Given that the flower market is pretty much the most exciting thing in all the land right now, I was taken on a second visit before being taken back to my room.
1.22.12
I woke up at 6am so that Ms. Trang could drop me off at Ms. Hoang's house, and I got in their family car to go to Ms. Hoang's husband's father's house. I should mention, this is the only Vietnamese person I know who owns a car. I didn't have breakfast because I figured we'd be eating soon and a lot. But, I guess 8am is a little early for lunch, even by Vietnamese standards. I was told to sit in the corner but I tried to find ways to be helpful. Ms. Hoang and her son were de-stemming some herbs on the floor and I sat down to help them. I couldn't help but think about the expression, 'the floors are clean enough to eat off of,' and the fact that in Vietnam they're always clean enough to cook and eat off of. I got to slice bread. They set me up for slicing on the floor, but as soon as I lowered myself to the ground everyone laughed as though this were preposterous and insisted that I work at the table.
By the time we finished ferrying five plates worth of each different dish to the three tables, my appetite was saying bring it on. Again, I was pretty much left to my own devices when it came to serving myself, something I was perfectly happy with. I was certainly encouraged to eat more, but in a very non-aggressive way.
I was informed that one of the teachers I used to teach in the FCE class last semester lived nearby, and we were to go visit him. At first I thought he was just going to come get me and take me to his house, which I was not totally comfortable with given the past joking but forward behavior of my male FCE students, but when I realized that Ms. Hoang would be coming too I went along with the plan. The three of us squeezed onto his motorbike. It wasn't as uncomfortable or precarious-feeling as I was expecting, but I was glad he only lived about 1km away. Of course, he plied us with more food. We went on a tour of his garden/massive yard/orchard. Apparently his land extends across the river, but we didn't go so far.
When we got back to Ms. Hoang's I was invited to observe a cockfight. Apparently cockfights are a big part of Tet, not so much because of tradition as because people have nothing else to do. It's illegal to bet on the fights, but of course people do it anyway. The winner becomes more expensive and the loser becomes dinner. I have to say, the fight was neither as dramatic nor as depressing as I was expecting. After the first couple of face offs it was clear that there wouldn't really be a winner, just a less loser. The roosters lost their spunk quickly but the fight doesn't end until one dies, so their handlers kept setting them up again and again. The only reason I stuck around until the end was because Ms. Hoang asked me which one I thought would win and I wanted to stay and find out whether I called it right. I did.
1.23.12
It was new year's day and I would be spending it at Trang's parents' house. I arrived and was eagerly greeted by cheers and jumping up and down from Trang's oldest brothers' kids. It felt like coming home to family. The morning started with breakfast and the usual calm and surprising conversation with Trang's dad. We all hung out for a while and, throughout the morning, several of his eleven brothers and sisters (whom I did not previously know existed) and their families dropped by. I watched little kids get goaded into delivering new year's wishes to their elders in exchange for envelopes of lucky money. Money aside, I like the tradition of exchanging thoughtful good wishes. To this end, I learned a few lines in Vietnamese to make sure I could greet my hosts properly.
I had been warned that I would have work to do today. Trang's dad's 8th sibling (who is actually the 7th because Trang's dad, the 1st, is for some reason called the 2nd) invited me to his house to wrap Tet cakes. I'm not sure what distinguishes Tet cakes from any other glutinous rice cakes, especially since I saw several varieties of Tet cakes, but I got to help make them marketable. One woman was doing most of the work: she prepped banana leaves, scooped rice onto them, weighed them to make sure it was the right amount, added the log of filling, rolled it like a giant sushi, and tied banana leaves around the whole thing. Then we would re-tie it tighter, but that makes our job sound easier than it was. I watched Trang do it once and then I got to work. The woman finishing up the ones that Trang and I wrapped was astounded at my beautiful handiwork. She kept holding up my finished Tet cakes and waxing about them in Vietnamese for several minutes at a time. I could only understand her praising tone and frequent use of the word for beautiful. One time I tied it so tight that I squeezed some sort of fluid (ew?) out of the log. Apparently that's a good thing, because everyone was impressed.
Now it was time to go back to Trang's parents' house and take a nap. I didn't need telling twice. A few hours later we headed to Trang's sister's house. Some weeks ago, when Trang was telling me about how superstitious people only want people with 'good names' to visit them on new year's day, and are especially particular about the first person who arrives, we had a funny conversation.
This whole week I've been a little confused. It's the holiday season here, but it isn't a holiday season in my tradition, but it is a holiday season in the life I'm currently leading. In some ways, it has felt more like a holiday season than Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's. I had the friends and family, which was wonderful, but I couldn't really carry out any of my traditions. Now I am lacking the friends and family from home, but it feels good to participate in traditions, even if they are not my own. I'm so immersed in it here that when I talk to people back home I'm taken aback when I am reminded that their life is celebration free, business as usual. Today was particularly nice because I felt like a part of the family and a part of the celebrations. When I was talking to Trang's dad in the morning I was remembering that I was doing the same thing five and a half months ago on my first weekend in Ben Tre. I didn't know these people, and yet they took me into their home. Now, I feel like I've been taken into their family, too.
On the way home, Trang and I started exchanging folktales and fables. She told me one that I found particularly striking and will now share with you.
1.20.12
I got back from HCMC in the morning and I was supposed to meet Mr. Luan and his family at 5pm. To be honest, this was the Tet day I'd been most worried about; because Mr. Luan is my supervisor for translations, I associate him with feelings of stress and frustration. However, we got off to a great start. It turns out that when we're one on one and having casual conversation instead of trying to exchange instructions, playing English fill-in-the-blank isn't so bad. I joined him, his wife, his son, and Ms. My (remember her from my early bike riding days?) at the flower market. Everyone thinks the flower market is the most beautiful thing ever and has been talking to me about it for weeks. One street along the river gets overrun by plant vendors selling everything from potted flowers to small flowering trees to pepper plants. It was pretty, but it wasn't as stunning to me as everyone else seems to think it is. We spent most of the time strolling and chatting and exchanging English and Vietnamese names for each plant. They bought me a cotton candy and, I kid you not, after little more than a minute it started melting and crystallizing. Essentially, the extreme humidity in the air was causing it to do what it would normally do in your mouth.
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| Welcome to the new year's flower market! |
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| Who can spot the flower vendor? |
I'm not sure at what point I started feeling unwell, whether it was before the pre-moistened cotton candy or after, but by the time we headed to dinner I was definitely feeling worried. We found a place that sold bánh xèo. I tried to use my sneaky tactic of eating slowly to avoid getting too many refills, but it didn't quite work. At some point, everyone else got full, and it was decided that it was my job to finish what was left. Long before this point, I was already struggling. I was not happy with this decision. Maybe I was too tired to resist, or maybe they were unusually forceful, but I ended up eating way way more than my body was willing to accept. And then we went somewhere else for dessert. I wasn't able to decline ordering dessert, but I did succeed in leaving it unfinished. All of that food ended up making a comeback later that evening. While it was unpleasant, it taught me that I need to be willing to stand firmer when I feel full in the coming days of feasting.
1.21.12
My next Tet stop was Mr. Bao Duy's house. He is the head of the English department. His wife picked me up and when I got to his house I spent a while hanging out with his kids. The whole family speaks English quite well, so socializing was very easy for me. His daughter is 20 and studies accounting at a university HCMC. It turns out that she doesn't really like accounting and is only studying it because she didn't know what to study and her dad recommended it. She's planning on being an accountant, anyway, but what she really likes is journalism, which she is involved in during her free time. His son is still in elementary school but speaks English excellently, though of course somewhat shyly. They have a tiny, adorable, bug-eyed, chihuahua-like puppy that was literally an ankle-biter.
Mr. Bao Duy invited me to photograph him making offerings at his family altar, and then it was time to eat. Very much in contrast with what normally happens, I experienced almost no insistence that I eat more and hardly any food ended up on my plate that I didn't put there myself. I had to wonder if word might have gotten out about the results from the night before. After the meal they saw the impending post-meal-coma in my eyes and offered me a bed to take a nap. Saints! Given that the flower market is pretty much the most exciting thing in all the land right now, I was taken on a second visit before being taken back to my room.
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| Not all of the courses were out when I took this picture |
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| Flower market again |
1.22.12
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| Have I mentioned that my Vietnamese name is Xuân Mai (Spring Apricot Blossom)? It is the Tet flower because it blooms briefly and almost exactlyduring this holiday season. |
I woke up at 6am so that Ms. Trang could drop me off at Ms. Hoang's house, and I got in their family car to go to Ms. Hoang's husband's father's house. I should mention, this is the only Vietnamese person I know who owns a car. I didn't have breakfast because I figured we'd be eating soon and a lot. But, I guess 8am is a little early for lunch, even by Vietnamese standards. I was told to sit in the corner but I tried to find ways to be helpful. Ms. Hoang and her son were de-stemming some herbs on the floor and I sat down to help them. I couldn't help but think about the expression, 'the floors are clean enough to eat off of,' and the fact that in Vietnam they're always clean enough to cook and eat off of. I got to slice bread. They set me up for slicing on the floor, but as soon as I lowered myself to the ground everyone laughed as though this were preposterous and insisted that I work at the table.
By the time we finished ferrying five plates worth of each different dish to the three tables, my appetite was saying bring it on. Again, I was pretty much left to my own devices when it came to serving myself, something I was perfectly happy with. I was certainly encouraged to eat more, but in a very non-aggressive way.
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| One of the tables |
I was informed that one of the teachers I used to teach in the FCE class last semester lived nearby, and we were to go visit him. At first I thought he was just going to come get me and take me to his house, which I was not totally comfortable with given the past joking but forward behavior of my male FCE students, but when I realized that Ms. Hoang would be coming too I went along with the plan. The three of us squeezed onto his motorbike. It wasn't as uncomfortable or precarious-feeling as I was expecting, but I was glad he only lived about 1km away. Of course, he plied us with more food. We went on a tour of his garden/massive yard/orchard. Apparently his land extends across the river, but we didn't go so far.
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| Three on a bike |
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| Mosquitoes the size of penny-sized apricot blossom petals! |
When we got back to Ms. Hoang's I was invited to observe a cockfight. Apparently cockfights are a big part of Tet, not so much because of tradition as because people have nothing else to do. It's illegal to bet on the fights, but of course people do it anyway. The winner becomes more expensive and the loser becomes dinner. I have to say, the fight was neither as dramatic nor as depressing as I was expecting. After the first couple of face offs it was clear that there wouldn't really be a winner, just a less loser. The roosters lost their spunk quickly but the fight doesn't end until one dies, so their handlers kept setting them up again and again. The only reason I stuck around until the end was because Ms. Hoang asked me which one I thought would win and I wanted to stay and find out whether I called it right. I did.
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| Face of when they still felt like it |
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| Their ankles are taped up with a big metal barb curving outward at the back |
1.23.12
It was new year's day and I would be spending it at Trang's parents' house. I arrived and was eagerly greeted by cheers and jumping up and down from Trang's oldest brothers' kids. It felt like coming home to family. The morning started with breakfast and the usual calm and surprising conversation with Trang's dad. We all hung out for a while and, throughout the morning, several of his eleven brothers and sisters (whom I did not previously know existed) and their families dropped by. I watched little kids get goaded into delivering new year's wishes to their elders in exchange for envelopes of lucky money. Money aside, I like the tradition of exchanging thoughtful good wishes. To this end, I learned a few lines in Vietnamese to make sure I could greet my hosts properly.
I had been warned that I would have work to do today. Trang's dad's 8th sibling (who is actually the 7th because Trang's dad, the 1st, is for some reason called the 2nd) invited me to his house to wrap Tet cakes. I'm not sure what distinguishes Tet cakes from any other glutinous rice cakes, especially since I saw several varieties of Tet cakes, but I got to help make them marketable. One woman was doing most of the work: she prepped banana leaves, scooped rice onto them, weighed them to make sure it was the right amount, added the log of filling, rolled it like a giant sushi, and tied banana leaves around the whole thing. Then we would re-tie it tighter, but that makes our job sound easier than it was. I watched Trang do it once and then I got to work. The woman finishing up the ones that Trang and I wrapped was astounded at my beautiful handiwork. She kept holding up my finished Tet cakes and waxing about them in Vietnamese for several minutes at a time. I could only understand her praising tone and frequent use of the word for beautiful. One time I tied it so tight that I squeezed some sort of fluid (ew?) out of the log. Apparently that's a good thing, because everyone was impressed.
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| The setup |
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| Hard at work |
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| Beautiful Tet cake |
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| Slices of Tet cake, filled with green bean paste and pork fat, which you eat with pork, broth, and eggs. |
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| Working women and 8th Uncle |
Now it was time to go back to Trang's parents' house and take a nap. I didn't need telling twice. A few hours later we headed to Trang's sister's house. Some weeks ago, when Trang was telling me about how superstitious people only want people with 'good names' to visit them on new year's day, and are especially particular about the first person who arrives, we had a funny conversation.
- My mother's name is Good.
- It's good? What is it?
- It's Good.
- Yes, what does it mean?
- It's Good, but my husband's name is Better.
- What is it?
- It's Better.
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| Sping roll ingredients |
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| My winning row |
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| Receiving my winnings |
This whole week I've been a little confused. It's the holiday season here, but it isn't a holiday season in my tradition, but it is a holiday season in the life I'm currently leading. In some ways, it has felt more like a holiday season than Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's. I had the friends and family, which was wonderful, but I couldn't really carry out any of my traditions. Now I am lacking the friends and family from home, but it feels good to participate in traditions, even if they are not my own. I'm so immersed in it here that when I talk to people back home I'm taken aback when I am reminded that their life is celebration free, business as usual. Today was particularly nice because I felt like a part of the family and a part of the celebrations. When I was talking to Trang's dad in the morning I was remembering that I was doing the same thing five and a half months ago on my first weekend in Ben Tre. I didn't know these people, and yet they took me into their home. Now, I feel like I've been taken into their family, too.
On the way home, Trang and I started exchanging folktales and fables. She told me one that I found particularly striking and will now share with you.
A young woman came to visit her mother. She was overwhelmed by the difficulties in her life and felt like giving up. Her mother listened to her and then got up without saying anything. She set up three pots of water on the stove. In one, she placed a carrot; in the second, she placed an egg. In the last pot, she put some coffee beans. After the pots boiled for some time she asked her daughter to examine the contents of each pot. The carrot had become soft; the egg, hard. The water containing the coffee had become fragrant and flavorful. The mother said to her daughter, "Some people are like the carrot and let life's difficulties change them from being strong to being weak. Some people are like the egg. They start out gentle and sensitive but become hardened under life's burdens. Some people are like coffee beans: they change the circumstances around them into something better. Which one will you be like?"Given that it is the new year yet again, I will make one more resolution about life in Vietnam and life in general. I will be a coffee bean.
22.1.12
Land of the lotus eaters
"They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-Eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the Lotus-eaters without thinking further of their return." - The OdysseyThere is no denying that Vientiane was a sleepy town, but arriving in Luang Prabang felt like being sedated -- with a wonderful, stress-erasing, motivation-canceling sedative. It was lucky we had planned to have no plans for Laos and just go with the flow because, really, that was all we were capable of upon arrival. But let's rewind and start from the beginning, getting from Vientiane to Luang Prabang.
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| These watches were in nearly every market stall, and after a while it was clear that this 'watch' is just as relevant in Luang Prabang as any other. |
1.16.12
We loaded up on snacks and, after some anxiety-inducing delays we were on our way on the VIP King of Bus to Luang Prabang. All in all, the eleven hour ride went by more quickly and easily than I expected, and it was more scenic than I'd dared hope. We spent most of the trip winding around mountains. The bumps and bends sometimes made it hard to sleep, but it was worth it to keep my eyes open. The verdure was muted under a dense coating of road dust, and made me feel like I was in an old photograph. We passed clumps of hill tribes that could have almost convinced me that I had been transported to Guatemala. The flora shifted from palm trees and rice fields to papaya groves to unknown deciduous trees. Sunset came in a striking, unbroken palate, and then the stars came. Believe it or not, I see the stars less often in Vietnam than I did in Houston or in the LA area. So, to see the stars from a mountaintop free of light pollution was a sparkling treat.
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| Riverside karsts accompanied us for a while |
After finding a place to stay Kelly and I sought out a place to chill. We ended up at a restaurant across a river that is only accessible via bamboo bridge during the six months of dry season. Neither of us thought we were particularly hungry, but we were wooed by sindad, aka Lao hotpot, Lao BBQ, or Lao fondue. The waiters removed a ceramic tile from the center of our table, fit a pot of embers into the hole, and placed an unusual but ingenious contraption over it. Instead of a flat-bottomed pot, the center is domed up and slotted, creating an outer trench for broth and a dry center area for grilling. We received a kettle of broth; a plate of thinly sliced raw beef; a basket of noodles, cabbage, greens, eggs, and vegetables. Any dinner starting out with my receiving a platter of raw meat is off to a good start, and it was delicious. I topped it off with another new beer and for dessert we played a friendly game of scrabble.
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| Note the hotpot pot |
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| Namkhong: I found out later that it is manufactured by Heineken. And it tastes like it. 'Nuff said. |
1.17.12
Having only recently arrived in Luang Prabang, we weren't fully under its spell yet, and managed to have a reasonably thorough first day despite getting started later than we intended. Our first stop was Phou Si, a hill and central landmark in the city. Near the base is Wat Pahouak, built in 1860 and now a UNESCO World Heritage site because of the murals inside depicting local history. At the top there is another wat and an overlook from which you can see the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers responsible for Luang Prabang's peninsular shape. On our way down the hill we passed an assortment of gold Buddha-related statues, a wat in a cave, and what is allegedly a stone imprint of Buddha's footprint (though, as the guidebook snidely commented, if it were real Buddha would have been the size of a brontosaurus).
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| The very top of the hill and wat |
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| Cave wat |
We spent the rest of the afternoon admiring wats strewn across the north side of town. While they may come to look more or less the same after a few dozen photographs, let me assure you that each one had its own unique and intriguing qualities, even if I can no longer remember most of their names.
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| Mesmerizing gilded entrance at one wat |
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| Tree of life mosaic at another wat's rear |
- bom kuay - to ripen bananas
- pao mon - to blow magically
- pao ya - to blow medically on a patient's ill part
- puad pai bun - to wish ardently to go to the festival
- pen none - to have worms
- pen tum - pimply
- bal - talk in sleep
- bon - to blow bubbles
Anyway, on with the day. More wats. Lazing at a riverside cafe. Snacking on Lao sausage at the same bamboo bridge place from the night before. Then we went looking for dinner. One of my favorite moments of the day came around this time. It was already quite dark when a group of teen monks passed us, but one wished us a 'good morning' (something we were repeatedly wished no matter the time of day). Kelly quickly replied, 'no, good evening.' Without batting an eye the monk called back, 'no, good morning tomorrow!'
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| Crossing the river. Can we all say paradise? |
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| Laap and sticky rice. No orlahm photo, apparently |
By an unexpected series of events and introductions, we ended up finding our way to an implausible bowling alley full of foreigners because it is the only place open past the local midnight curfew.
1.18.12
By Wednesday, Luang Prabang insouciance had officially set in. We started at Ok Pop Tok, a nearby weaving village, where we took a quick tour that explained everything from the silkworms' diets to the dying process to the weaving. It was a beautiful, Mekong-adjacent place. We felt compelled to sit a while and try the silk worm poo tea. While we sipped and sunned, a group of women finished their half-day weaving class and their exuberance convinced us to set aside our intentions to visit a waterfall and sign up to weave the next day. At this point, spending four hours sitting would fit right in with the rest of our itinerary.
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| A rainbow of natural dyes |
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| A loom. I think I'd cramp my brain trying to figure out how to set up all of the threads myself. |
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| Silk worm poo tea tastes just like normal tea. |
On our way out I spotted a flier for Project Space, an art space featuring traditional and contemporary Lao art. As soon as I walked in it felt right. It smelled like art (and that's a good smell). The ground floor had quilt-like wall hangings made by a woman inspired by her shaman-husband's visions. The next floor had several small collections, including some shadow puppets and many related preparatory drawings, as well as the winning entries of a local photography contest. The very top floor was a rooftop terrace with an incredible view of the city. Naturally, we sat and drank in the peacefulness.
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| Shadow puppets |
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| View from the top |
Our next stop was Haw Kham, the royal palace, which is now preserved as a museum. Naturally, there was a splendiferous wat on the palace grounds. Though all of the members of the royal family had pretty awesome names, the late King Sisavangvong's was my favorite to say. No photos were allowed inside the palace. The public area was an opulent red and gold mosaiced display, making the high-ceilinged but white-walled living spaces seem spartan by contrast. The garage around the back housed the royal family's car collection, almost exclusively courtesy of annual gifts from the US government. A humanizing touch was the gallery of photos and brief biographies of the many royal chauffeurs.
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| Wat with the ever-popular and fascinating naga motif on the railing |
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| Inside the wat |
By now we were starving and more than ready to enjoy some street food noodle soup. I had to note that the buzzing flies and utensils of dubious cleanliness were more inviting than offputting. The soup itself was nothing to write home about, but a cautious dose of maroon sludge (chili sauce) gave it the kick it initially lacked.
1.19.12
Our weaving class forced us out of bed early, and we were on our way to Ok Pop Tok at 8am. We were greeted with bael fruit tea before getting down to business. We chose our silks, had a go at spooling the skeins, and then started weaving.
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| The skein is spread onto a turning contraption |
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| Guiding the bright blue silk onto the spool |
It was slow going at first. You hold the shuttle in your right hand, pressing down on the right pedal with your foot as you pass the shuttle through to the left. You take the shuttle in your left hand, switch your foot over the left pedal, give the weaving a good whack with the beater to get the rows tight, and then repeat the process in the opposite direction. Again and again. Then it was time to add the pattern. First it was just a matter of changing the color every four pass-throughs, but then it got complicated. There are threads at the top that are woven into the loom threads (yeah, my knowledge of weaving vocab is pretty lacking) just like the pattern you want woven into your fabric. You use the woven threads to separate the loom threads according to the pattern, drive in a plank to keep the necessary loom threads raised and lowered, and then pass the shuttle through. That probably didn't make much sense, so you can try reading Ok Pop Tok's more articulate but also more jargon-heavy descriptions on the enlargements of these two pictures:
If that still doesn't help, try watching this video. It didn't really make sense to me until I did it, but afterward I had a much better appreciation of the process when I watched the women who work there. Below, watch me go! This is near the end, when I'd made it through the pattern section and was just sliding the shuttle back and forth. It felt so much easier this time around. Meanwhile, the women who do this for a living put my pace to shame.
It was pretty amazing to watch a piece of fabric form before my very eyes. In the morning I had a heap of string. By noon it was a creation.
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| Me, my tutor, and my masterpiece |
And then it was time to go. Time to go back to reality. Our trip back home during Tet season felt a lot like traveling on Thanksgiving weekend, complete with crowded airports and delayed flights, but eventually we made it home. It's never really possible to see everything there is to see in a given place, and I didn't even see everything I could have seen if I had woken up at seven and charged my way through a guidebook's checklist. Still, my experience was richer for it. I think it's a testament to a place that makes you feel like you have unfinished business when you leave, rather than making you feel like you 'got it done.' I saw a lot in Laos; I sat a lot in Laos, and I'd be happy to go back one day and do more of both.
“Most of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting.” – Robert Thomas Allen
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