Looking back

Surprisingly, despite the drudgery of having to write what felt like ten different overviews for Fulbright and the college, I somehow ended up churning out something I liked. I thought I'd share this one:

My time in Vietnam has been, first and foremost, a learning experience. I learned some local culture and language; I learned about how people learn and how to teach them, and I learned about myself.

One of the reasons I wanted to come to Vietnam was to experience a culture drastically different from my own, and to try to learn Vietnamese. While my Vietnamese study was not as consistent or successful as I had hoped, there was no stopping the cultural exposure. I was lucky to have a host with an appetite as big as mine, and a teacher’s spirit. I told her early on that I wanted to try new things, and even now, in my last month in Vietnam, she is still taking me to try new dishes, like gà ác. I can definitely say I have savored Southern Vietnamese culinary culture. More importantly, over the many meals we shared, she taught me so much about Vietnamese culture. I learned about everything from proverbs to chopstick etiquette to superstitions. Moreover, every time I interacted with someone, it was a moment of cultural exchange.

Though I had some experience teaching before I came to Vietnam, this was my first time developing lesson plans that had to keep 30+ students engaged and learning for 90 minutes. In the beginning, the hardest part was estimating how long each activity would take, and I often over-planned in case I overestimated how much time each activity would fill. Eventually, though, this became second nature. But then the real challenges started. How did I know if my students were learning anything? Was I a teacher, or just an entertaining foreign babysitter? Most of the time, it was hard to tell. But, there were moments, flashes of light, in which I saw that I was having an impact. They could be small signs – students getting in groups and shouting their group number in English rather than in Vietnamese – or big ones, like when I let my students chat about whatever they wanted as long as it was in English, and they did. I asked students to fill out teacher evaluations and self-evaluations at the end of each course. Even if at that point it was too late to implement any suggestions for improvement, these evaluations showed me what the students thought of me, my teaching style, my lessons, and their own behavior and progress in my class. Many times, when students wrote about the effects of certain lessons, they wrote exactly what my unspoken objectives had been. These evaluations affirmed me as a teacher, and educated me about my students.

Life in Vietnam was sometimes a life of extremes. Living alone here is different from living alone in the States, where friends are never too far. Here, a 15-hour time difference separated me from my closest friends, at least two hours of public transportation separated me from the closest ETA, and language separated me from most of the people in my vicinity. Loneliness was a whole new animal. Frustrating situations were made all the more frustrating by cultural differences and language barriers. I had to confront my shortcomings and my bad habits, and battle to change them or accept them as a permanent part of me. When I first got to Ben Tre, feeling the weight of nine unimaginable months ahead of me, I told myself that if I survived this next phase of my life, I would know whether I would never leave home again or whether I would be a wandering spirit forever.  Well, I survived, and I now know I am ready to spend some time at home for now, but I’ll be surprised if I stay there for too long.

I know that Fulbright’s objective is cultural exchange. I know that my role was that of a teacher, inside and outside of the classroom. People told me time and time again that I, the first foreigner, was an invaluable resource to the community. I believe them. But what I can most accurately assess is the personal value of my experience as an ETA in Vietnam. I have gained so much: understanding, knowledge, perspective, patience, friendship. Was I the person most changed by my presence in Vietnam? Maybe. But maybe I changed enough people enough that my influence will branch out from them, changing how foreigners are viewed, changing how English is spoken, changing how English is taught, changing things I cannot imagine.

“I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.” – Mary Anne Radmacher Hershey

Last party

My last day in Ben Tre was spent more or less alternating between saying goodbye and packing. It started with goodbye breakfast with Thy at 730 am. Nhu was supposed to join us, but something came up last minute so she wasn't able to make it. My stomach has been feeling funny on and off for the last week or so (another reminder of my early days in Ben Tre), so I couldn't eat much at breakfast, but otherwise it went ok. It's so hard to feel a sense of conclusion with any of these goodbyes. I've been here so long and spent so much time with these people that I can't really wrap my mind around the fact that this is a pretty final goodbye. I've traveled enough while here that it's hard to remember that when I walk out the door tomorrow I won't be coming back in a few days.

I spent several hours packing. I had already packed one suitcase and thought I would be in great shape, but the mound of gifts I received yesterday forced me to start over again. I felt overwhelmed and a little desperate, but I was determined.

I had lunch with Mr. Vu. He has been working on his master's thesis all year and consequently spending most of his time in HCMC, so I didn't get to see him very often, but he is one of the teachers around whom I feel most comfortable. We chatted about his thesis research, and I got signed up to proofread his chapters once he starts writing them.

I spent more time packing and by some miracle (and letting go of more clothes than I originally intended) I eventually fit it all in. Trang lent me her scale and I'm weighing in at around 30kg. Not unreasonable for a year's worth of stuff and a treasure trove of gifts.

Hong and Anh came over to say goodbye. I spent a lot of time with them last semester; we usually went out together at least once a week, but then for some reason we stopped hanging out. Despite our long time no see, it was really nice to see each other one last time. After my day of packing, I was very happy to see that their farewell gift was two beaded rings. When the time came to say goodbye, Hong gave me a hug. It was the first time someone has initiated a hug in Vietnam, and it is something that had been missing from my other goodbyes, so it really meant a lot to me.

After a nap, it was time for my next and last goodbye party. It was actually a much delayed cast party for me and the third years who performed in the English conference, but given the date it got turned into a farewell. We went to one restaurant, where we had spring rolls made with goat breast meat and okra with a sesame marinade and soy-based sauce. We also had a blisteringly spicy seafood hotpot. Then the students read my mind and decided we should go out for embryonic duck eggs. These were the students who took me to try them for the first time, and it was only fitting that I have them one last time with them. So, we went to another place known for its shellfish, and two students got us all eggs on the way. We ate the eggs, as well as some shellfish in a tamarind sauce and some clams in a lemongrass ginger broth.

Party restaurant

I think none of us wanted the night to end, but eventually it was time to go home. One student, Trang, gave me a big hug and after that everyone else wanted one too. I was surprised that she was the one to start the trend, because out of the group she is maybe the one I would say I am least close to. But I felt loved by all of them.

Farewell, Fear Factor edition

Have I tried every Vietnamese dish? No. Have I tried every southern Vietnamese dish? No. Have I now tried one thing that probably trumps any other terrifying food I will ever have the opportunity to try in my life? Probably yes. I sampled embryonic duck eggs with grace and appreciation. Last night I faced something infinitely more daunting. But that story comes later.

Wednesday night was the last student English club. Turnout wasn't huge, but at eight-ish it was significantly more than the four who came last week. I learned how to fold paper into boats/bowls to hold rambutan and other snacks, and then we all sat and chatted and ate snacks and sang. I added one more Vietnamese song to my repertoire. I asked the three seniors present about their future plans, and they asked me about mine. One student told me that before I arrived, they expected me to be tall, pale, and blonde. When I arrived and they saw that we had similar skin and hair, they felt confident that we might be friends. I don't know what that says for US-Vietnam relations, but I guess it meant something good for me.

Thursday morning I had one more last visit to Trang's parents' house. It was the first time I wasn't there for some sort of event, and consequently it was a very relaxed visit, just me and them. If there is any goodbye dish I would want to have, it would be the goobdye bánh xèo that Trang's mom made. Ngon, ngon, ngon (3x delicious!), accompanied by Trang's favorite liqueur: Bailey's. This time I didn't cry on the road home; I guess I got all of my boohoos out the first time.

A more modest spread than what I usually see

Goodbye

In the afternoon, I participated in the college's closing conference for my term as a Fulbrighter. It was held in Vietnamese, but it was still moving. I made a presentation in English, and then made some closing remarks in Vietnamese. It was the first time I've had stage fright in a long time. When I started, everyone sort of giggled, and I wasn't sure whether I had said something wrong or whether they were just laughing because they were surprised to hear me speaking Vietnamese. Afterward, no one commented positively or negatively, but Trang told me that I did a good job (and she would tell me if I hadn't) and that people thought that the way I spoke Vietnamese was probably like the way they speak English. I got a mound of goodbye gifts that I haven't opened yet, and a certificate from the local government that is the highest honor one can receive and usually takes two years of consistent exemplary service to earn. I was also interviewed by a reporter for the local news.

Receiving my governmental certificate of achievement

Being interviewed

After that, there was another goodbye party. The party was festive but uneventful until I discovered that either banana rice wine is either much stronger than regular rice wine or my tolerance is shot, because I was quickly buzzed. Buzzed enough to feel inspired to toast Mr. Luan, my biggest source of frustration but most concerted effort for appreciation, for our mutual respect for each other's patience when facing communication struggles. After a plate of watercock, a plate of ruddy ground dove, a few hours, and several more shots, I met the biggest culinary challenge I have met in my life. I recall the time I went to Six Flags Arlington and faced down a ride called the Chameleon that had a loop and went forward and backwards, and I told myself that if I rode this one ride I would never fear a ride again. This dish was the Chameleon's equivalent. A dish of fish sauce, chilis, and duông dừa:  coconut beetle larvae. I have now eaten live coconut worms with bold terror and shots of banana seed rice wine. And I had four. And to be perfectly honest, other than the long time I spent watching them writhe in fish sauce while we all worked up the courage to eat them, the worst part was how much pepper was in the fish sauce, more so than the maggots themselves. You held it right behind the head, put the body in your mouth, and ripped the head off. People told me it was healthy protein, and that they are organic. Even after they'd been decapitated, the discarded heads kept moving in my bowl. 

About to eat one

Are you ready for this? Behold, the terror of the worms:

If you want more, watch the mandibles keep moving after I've eaten the bodies. Now that's a sendoff.

Party time

I debated a lot whether to publish that last post. I didn't want to come off as negative, especially so close to the end, but it was the truth. Fortunately, last night did a lot for my emotional well-being. It was the last meeting of the adult English club, and we had a party at one of the teacher's houses. The idea was that I would get there early and learn how to cook some traditional dishes but, as I suspected, that turned into me wrapping spring rolls while everyone else did the serious cooking. I didn't mind, though. I was pleasantly surprised to see so many people who hadn't been coming to the club this semester show up for the party.

Our handiwork

While the cooking continued, Ngoc and Mr. Luan took me to a nearby site of importance that they couldn't explain. I found out later that it was a Cao Dai monastery. Aside from the hellish swarms of mosquitoes, it was really nice. It is a place for meditation, so there were a lot of small fountains, rock formations, and gardens. There was also a sort of burial area with these massive grave markers. I'm not sure who got to be buried there. We met some of the monks, and they seemed somewhat tickled to have me, an American, in their midst.

Graves

Whoever it is that gets buried under these apparently gets some fancy headwear

By the time we made it back to the party, it was time to eat. And like any Vietnamese meal-based gathering, eat we did. For once, having been around for the preparation of the food, I knew exactly how many courses there would be, and I had an easier time pacing myself. Of course, that doesn't mean I didn't end up stuffed to the gills. As is often the case, we ended up splitting into a men's table and a women's table. In theory, I wonder whether this division should bother me, but in reality, in Vietnam I find it very comfortable. Given the different social expectations for festive men (lots of drinking) and festive women (less drinking), it makes sense and it cuts down on drinking pressures for me, since I straddle the line of expectations as a western woman.

Men's table

Ladies' table

Most of the group, except for the five people holding cameras

Full circle

"Sometimes you have to go halfway around the world to come full circle." - Lost in Translation

These last few days I've been feeling much like I did when I first arrived in Ben Tre. Overwhelmed, lonely, and confused. Entering into the month of May, I thought that my social calendar would start getting overloaded with people wanting to make the most of my dwindling days. Entering into my last week, I really thought that would happen. It has not. It feels remarkably similar to my first week here, back when I had nothing to do and a whole lot of time in my room and in my head. It's also similar in the number of somewhat invasive and bizarre visits I've been getting. I thought I had gotten better at being patient with culture clash, but maybe it was just everyone else getting better around me, because my fuse did not feel long at all. The worst thing about being in a face-saving culture is that feeling obligated to smile and be polite when that's not what you want only increases the internal desire to shout and make a big fuss.

I spent most of Saturday trying to finish the mountain of final reports required by both Fulbright and Ben Tre College. At some point in the afternoon, I got a phone call. A woman I don't know called me from Mr. Luan's phone, saying that she was his friend and that she wanted to come to my room to hang out with me. I told her I was too busy, and that tomorrow would be better. She understood, and agreed to meet me tomorrow. Before she hung up, though, I heard Mr. Luan asking her questions in Vietnamese and her relaying the replies I had given her during our conversation. Maybe ten minutes later, there was a knock at my door. Can you guess who it was? It was her and Mr. Luan. They wanted to come hang out in my room, and practically forced their way in when I opened the door. Then they looked around at my packing piles and realized that there was nowhere for them to sit. So, we all stood around awkwardly a few feet from the door. We re-discussed whether I was busy and to what extent, and after too long it was concluded that we would do something on Sunday. Mr. Luan had already invited me to do something Sunday several days ago, so our conversation in my room essentially yielded no net results.

The moment came on Sunday and I prepared myself by spending half an hour in corpse pose on my bed, trying to relax. Maybe it worked, because for the most part I managed to be in a pleasant mood. Mr. Luan, his family, Ngoc (the friend from the day before), Ms. My, and a man from the college all took me to visit a pagoda with a tree that is allegedly three hundred years old. Having seen the 150-year-old live oak at the Alamo, this three hundred year old tree looked more like an overgrown shrub. The nicest part about it was that it was the many butterflies that fluttered in and out of sight amidst its branches. When he wasn't taking candid pictures of me doing things like scratching mosquito bites, Mr. Luan summoned me here and there for posed photos by shouting "You! You! You!" until I turned around. I was encouraged to eat a starfruit that was so sour it literally burned the tip of my tongue. And then it was time for dinner. Dinner was good. We all ate more than we wanted to, and then we all went to have dessert.

Pretending to hold up the tree

On the way to dinner, I had an epiphany. In the early days, I had no patience for Mr. Luan. But, I always recognized that he was well meaning and I tried to train myself to have patience with him. This used to require having a voice in the back of my head reminding me to relax and give him a chance during most of the time we spent together. Eventually, this kind of worked. I no longer feel anxiety just at the thought of spending time with him. I have a lot more patience with the many things that are rude in my culture but insignificant in his. I am the guest here, after all, and my culture is the foreign one. I often wondered why he in particular got under my skin so much more than anyone else here. He is kind. He is energetic. He doesn't speak English very well but that's not his fault. Here's where the epiphany comes in. Working for Mr. Luan is like working for a puppy. Puppies are great, but most endearing puppy qualities are terrible management qualities, and being in a position where I am subject to his whims is what causes our problems.

This afternoon I was somewhere between asleep and awake watching tv when I heard some noises outside. I thought they were general outside noises, until I realized that it sounded like someone was saying my name, and that the tapping might be happening on my door. Before I could get up and get dressed, I realized that my door was being opened. A teacher stuck her head in the door and started shouting, asking whether I was inside. Of all the times my door has been impatiently knocked on, no one has ever just opened the door and come right in. I was taken aback. Then I was told that Mr. Luan wanted to take a photo of me and my bicycle with Ms. My. Why? Why now? As I mentioned at the start, because expressing irritation would only cause me to lose face, I resorted to passive-aggressively acting like I didn't understand all of Mr. Luan's pantomiming. It wasn't mature of me, but it's the only way I can feel like I have some control.

Luckily, my day didn't end there. I went out for dinner with Thuy, Trang's sister. I thought it was going to be the last time we saw each other, but by the end of the night we ended up deciding to see each other again on Friday. We had soup and then went out for drinks. I opened up to her about feeling sad that no one seems to want to take the time to say goodbye to me. I've been mulling it over in my head, what with all the free time I've had, trying to figure out why I've had so much free time. Are people worried that I'm busy? Do people not want to deal with saying goodbye? I know it's not that people don't care, but that doesn't mean I don't feel neglected. As close as I feel to Trang, sometimes it's hard for me to talk to her about my feelings or frustrations because I feel like she feels more responsible for them. With Thuy, I'm just talking to a friend.

Last classes

I guess I am officially no longer a teacher. I taught my last two classes this morning. I asked the first years to fill out evaluations, and though they might have struggled to put their feedback into English words, they did well enough for it to be worthwhile. After last week I realized that they probably wanted to take pictures together (and I wished I had done that on the last day with my other classes) so we spent a lot of time doing assorted group shots and pair shots.

I had to finish class early because I had to go to a 'department meeting.' Trang had intended for this meeting to be a surprise, but at least four other faculty members blew her cover and called or texted me with questions about my farewell party today. At the farewell party, I couldn't help but remember a fellow ETA's blog post about her experience going to a one-year-old's birthday party, where the child slept somewhere out of the way and all of the adults drank and celebrated. I was told to sit at the far corner of the table and, after giving me a few parting gifts at the beginning of the meal, everyone else had a riotously good time having apparently hilarious conversations in Vietnamese. On the way home, Trang mentioned that it was odd that no one really talked about my departure or talked much to me. I was glad that at least one person noticed that I had been left out. I didn't really take it personally, but that doesn't mean it was an enjoyable experience.

The college has been preparing some sort of publication compiling students' and faculty members' reflections on their experiences with me as an ETA this year. Unfortunately, all of these things are in Vietnamese. Fortunately, at they all have English abstracts, and today Trang gave me a copy of the abstracts to look over, correct, and enjoy. I thought I would share some highlights with you. These are before my corrections, because I think it's better in my students' own words:

• She is a young girl but her patience is wonderful. Thank you, Adelina, for providing us with great opportunities to practice English and appreciate your cultures!
• Especially, whenever I make mistakes, she has some ways to correct them without making me embarrassed. Last but not least, she usually makes the class exciting. Thus, we can understand the lessons easily and remember them longer.
• Studying with Adelina, the name of our ETA, was a really my happy time. She taught us with her heart. Sometimes, when I could not understand what she was saying, she enthusiastically expressed her ideas again and again.. That was really helpful. The atmosphere of the class was very relaxing.

A healthy dash of the other side of the coin:

• However, I also met some difficulties. For example, sometimes, I can’t understand what she wanted to convey. Because she is unable to explain her presentation in Vietnamese, I can’t understand the lesson thoroughly. The more she tried to explain, the more confused I became, sometimes.

And a whole abstract, because it is so poignant:

During the last nine months, I have had a meaningful opportunity to study with an English teaching assistant-Ms Solis Montufar Adelina Mariflor. Of our memories, I remember most a period of American civilization subject.
That time, my class studied about the Rocky Mountain Region of The US. She was really enthusiastic to teach us. She drew the map of the region onto the board carefully. She taught us about each state of the region with its own strait. She taught us how to pronounce the name of each state. She not only supplied us with the general knowledge, but also told some tourism destinations by showing us many pictures about them. Personally, I was most impressive about Devil’s Tower National Monument. It looks like a gigantic tree stump which turned to stone. Actually, it is phonolite volcanic rock that rings when struck. This information is also in the text book but it became more attractive with Adelina. So, I wished I had an opportunity to travel there. It would be one of my destinations of the US tour.
After that, she gave us a quiz to check the knowledge. In the quiz, we had to write the name of each state. That made us worried because we could not remember their spellings. So, we cheated. We wispily discussed with our friends. Of course, we could not get the permission to do like that. Adelina went around us and maybe she knew that we were cheating. She just whispered: “no talking, no talking” with a really lovely voice. The quiz was really difficult but we decided to stop cheating. We did not want to make her upset. Her voice was impressive. I remembered that voice so much.  
After the quiz, I realized that her behavior had affected me very much. Instead of being angry with our cheating, she was so gentle. Thanks for her behavior, I have tried to get a better behavior.

 Now that's what I call positive feedback.

Lover's lane

With her many visits to Ben Tre and her champagne personality, Violet has developed quite the fan club among my student friends. So, naturally, I had to spread the news that she would be spending one last day in Ben Tre on Monday. We were supposed to meet at four but the rain had something else to say about it and we had to wait it out until almost 445. But, our spirits did not exhibit the same dampness as our clothes, and we had a great time at Kim Nhi, our habitual milk tea place. It has gotten a facelift and now, instead of teenage graffiti, posh international motif wallpaper coats the walls. I feel like it has lost its youthful ambiance, but the drinks are as good as ever.

Our next stop was the supermarket, for another round of photoboothing. Hijinks ensued while we waited for an awkward couple to finish their own photo shoot. We took our pictures and hung out for a good while, and then decided it was time for dinner. Violet wanted to try the gà ác (black chicken/silkie), so we all went there. Since I'd already had it, I decided to try another unusual specialty served at that restaurant: pork brain soup. It was delicious and left me wanting more, though that was mostly because the portion was rather small. We were going to go home after that, but we were besieged by a second rain (breaking the rainy season rules!) and tried to wait it out, but eventually just bought a raincoat and went home, where we were met by a second uprising of the insect plague.

The plague!

Tuesday morning, Violet joined me and Trang for our routine breakfast of bun bo hue. Originally, we had hoped to have Violet participate in my Vietnamese lesson, but we were delayed by rain (noticing a pattern?) and so Violet had to head home to Tra Vinh right after breakfast. In the evening I had the English club, and for once it actually had a positive impact on my mood. I had asked them to prepare to tell me about their moms since it had been Mother's Day on Sunday. After that, I initiated phase one of my sneaky plan. I taught them cooking vocabulary and asked them to prepare a Vietnamese recipe in English to bring to class next week. However, they one-upped me with their own cleverness and decided that instead of having a class next week we will have a cooking lesson/farewell party at someone's house. I am perfectly pleased with this turn of events. Naturally, we women will start cooking in the early afternoon and the men will show up to eat once the food is ready.

Wednesday morning was the moment of truth: my Vietnamese exam. I was a little irritated to discover that most of the vocabulary and the oral part of the test was based on the material I learned back in Hanoi. It did not help my persistent feeling that I have made negligible progress in learning Vietnamese since then. But then, the reading comprehension part was practically incomprehensible. In the end I did about the same as I'd done on the practice tests. I passed decently, but certainly not with flying colors.

Afterward, I went to lunch with Trang's sister. This time, we had frog legs, shrimp, and morning glories. The frog legs were good but my stomach has been ribbiting ever since, so perhaps my innards disagree. I also tried a new fruit, bòn bon. It tastes a lot like a guava, but with a totally different consistency. On the way back into town, as we were crossing the bridge, we saw that we were about to cross into a major afternoon rain.

Frog leg platter on the lower left

 

I had a small Vietnamese triumph when I was getting dinner. I went out to get spring rolls, and after asking the woman at the cart for them, I stood there waiting. Then I heard someone else talking. Suddenly, I realized that I understood what she was saying and that she was talking to me. Maybe it doesn't sound significant, but the fact that I could understand something with half-attention felt good.

In the evening, it was time for the English club. Only four students showed up, the same four who have been consistent for the last several months. Not even the teacher who is supposed to come unlock the classroom showed up. We got the key eventually, and we also talked about mothers and Mother's Day. Somehow this segued into talking about childhood memories and misbehaving, and one particularly mischievous student shared several hilarious stories of her youthful indiscretions. With such a small group, the club just felt like a long chat, and it was nice. Like last week, I invited them out for sinh tos after about an hour, but this time I made sure to declare, "I'm inviting!" so that no one would try to pay when the time came. We had a great time quizzing each other on fruit names in English and Vietnamese, and just generally chatting.

Luckily, I had nothing on my schedule today. I say luckily because I have been sick all day. Boo. Hopefully I'll be well enough to enjoy my first going away party tomorrow. In other news, a skink seems to have taken up residence under my washing machine. I see it several times a day, and it always scuttles away under the washing machine. Also, my bathroom is starting to feel like a cheap motel. I keep coming across languidly copulating millipedes.

Westward in the Delta

“Bizarre travel plans are dancing lessons from God.” – Kurt Vonnegut

 Friday morning I wore an ao dai to teach. I don't have many more chances to wear them so, despite the heat, I'll be wearing one for my last few classes. I guess I hadn't worn one to teach my first years yet, so when I walked in I was literally greeted with a round of applause. During class, I kept seeing phones popping up and I realized that students were taking photos of me. I wanted to get a group picture with the class anyway, so I asked them to wait until the end of class, and then after the group picture I was swamped with students wanting to get a picture taken with me. Not only that, they all wanted my autograph. I signed notebooks, textbooks, and dong bills. I reminded them that I wasn't leaving yet, but that didn't seem to matter.

First years, class one

First years, class two

This Sunday, I was to be a judge at the final round of a delta-wide English speaking competition co-organized by Fulbright and hosted by An Giang University. Violet and I decided to make a weekend trip of it. We would meet in Can Tho on Friday, visit the famous floating markets on Saturday morning, and then go to An Giang in the afternoon to be there in time for rehearsal.

You may recall that when my friends came for my birthday back in September, they each had some sort of minor horror story, mostly revolving around the fact that despite their college or university's insistence that a bus could bring them to Ben Tre, they were told that there was no such bus on the day of their intended departure. Andrea, the ETA who lives in Long Xuyen, An Giang, had one of the most stressful and protracted treks that weekend. I have been fortunate enough to not have encountered this kind of frustration, mostly because I can rely on Violet's wheels for any adventures that do not route through HCMC. So, it was high time for me to have my own overcomplicated multi-part transit experience.

Last week I was told that there was a 130pm bus to Can Tho. Perfect. I finish teaching at 11ish on Fridays, so I would have time to lunch and relax before catching one easy, direct bus to my destination. Kim Long took me to the bus station at around 115 but we couldn't find the bus. A seemingly random man who might have been the driver informed us that the bus was having some kind of mechanical trouble and wouldn't be leaving until 330 at the earliest. This was not ideal, but there might still be a bus. Kim Long took me home and took me back to the bus station a little before three. The bus was still nowhere to be found and she set out trying to get more information. I overheard someone say something that sounded like the bus was gone, but Kim Long was busy talking to people and perhaps trying to trouble shoot to keep me abreast of transportational issues or developments. Finally, she reappeared and told me that there was no bus. She called Trang to ask her to explain the situation to me. However, Trang's explanation was very confusing and the result was that I'm not sure whether there was actually no afternoon bus to begin with or whether there just wouldn't be a bus that afternoon. I was about to have Trang arrange for a xe om to take me to Can Tho, when Tammy, a woman from the international office appeared. Rapid fire Vietnamese ensued and a local bus was flagged down and I was still in the dark, though it seemed that a solution might be presenting itself. She told me that her hometown was on the way to Can Tho, and that if I went with her on this bus I could catch another bus that would take me to Can Tho. I was a little skeptical but she was insistent and I figured I didn't have anything to lose. Onto the bus.

Tammy (her real name is Tâm, which means heart) came to Ben Tre College just a few months ago, and at the time I considered her a chatterbox and a busybody, but now she was my travel agent and guardian angel. She told me all about the interesting sites in the delta and she called a bus company to make sure I would have a way to get from Vinh Long to Can Tho. I was less skeptical of her plan, but this is Vietnam so I wasn't counting my chickens just yet. We passed her hometown and she stayed on the bus with me for another hour to accompany me to Vinh Long. She had intended to accompany me to the bus company office, but by then it was almost five and she wouldn't be able to get back home, so she set me up with a xe om driver who was to take me across the ferry, into the city, and to the bus company. Surprise surprise, when we got to the bus company offices and they said there were no more buses. There were also no more buses from the company next door. So, I asked my xe om driver to take me the rest of the way. Despite the fact that I was speaking to him in perfectly comprehensible Vietnamese, he held up his fingers to indicate the price. Sigh. Off we went.
  
He stopped for gas twice, and asked me for more money. Somehow, though he thought it was necessary to use fingers to communicate numbers, he thought I would understand his explanation of why I should give him more money. Since he didn't think highly of my Vietnamese comprehension, I decided to play along, pretend I didn't understand, and evade giving him more money than we had agreed on. On the road, the bus from Vinh Long that supposedly did not exist passed us -- on the way and on its way back. We made it into Can Tho, but since he was from Vinh Long he didn't know how to get around. He tried to drop me off on a random corner because he didn't want to be bothered to find my hotel. When I just sat on the back of his bike, though, it finally occurred to him to ask someone for help. Finally, after every leg of the trip went unaccording to plan, I made it. 

Violet and I decompressed for a while in our golden-yellow room at the Xoai (Mango) Hotel, which gave us mango when we checked in. We went to the riverside to check out the night market and to build a dinner composed of street snacks: bánh tráng trộn, sinh tố thạp cảm, hoành thánh chiên, and xôi gà.

assembling our bánh tráng trộn

luminous hoành thánh chiên (fried wontons)

The next morning we made the effort to wake up at six (sort of early, but not as early as the recommended time of 4am) to visit the floating market. After a short boat ride downstream, we encountered the clot of boats selling produce and snacks. Boats hung or speared produce on tall poles so that you could see what they were selling, even from far away. There were also a couple floating gas stations for convenience. People tossed fruit back and forth. It must have been quite bustling at four.

Dragonfruit in the foreground, fruit poles in the background

Pumpkin boat

Small boat with assorted fruit

Coffee and beverage boat

Tossing watermelons

Hat provided by our boatman, who was concerned for Violet's skin

Back on dry land, we took a walk to look for breakfast and wandered through a non-floating market before getting on the road to Long Xuyen, An Giang. The rain caught us twice but we made it in relatively good time. We got to see Andrea's comparatively luxurious lodgings and went out to dinner with the many officials and faculty members involved in the competition.  

The final round of the competition started on Sunday morning. 32 groups from several delta colleges and universities competed, and today we would evaluate the final six groups. I hate to say it, but the caliber of the students competing in the final round made it clear to me why none of the groups from Ben Tre made it.

First and second place winners

On Monday morning, we had one last breakfast together before Kelly, Violet, and I hit the road towards our respective homes. It took me and Elliot four hours to make it to Long Xuyen by bus when we were going to Phu Quoc, and I was curious how long it would take with Violet at the helm. By some miracle we avoided the rain. The skies were gray all around us, but a clear bright patch stayed above us the whole time we were on the road. We passed through Sa Dec, a town mostly known for being the setting of The Lover, a famous novel.

Sa Dec Post Office

We were just 16km from home when we got a flat tire. Luckily, motorbike repair shops line most roads, and we didn't have to walk very far before we found someone to patch us up and get us back on the road. Even with that delay, we made the whole trip in just under four hours, and less than half an hour after we made it home the patient sky opened up and unleashed the afternoon rains.

Getting ready for some football

"The earth is round, so maybe we will see each other again." - parting words from Trang's dad

Yesterday I had another sort of Vietnamese lesson with Trang. We had our weekly bowl of bun bo hue, and when I look at the heaping dollop of chili paste that I require to make it taste 'right', I remember the days when the pot of red flaky sauce looked like a pot of impending suffering. Mother's day is coming up and, as I told Trang, she is not my mother but there is no older sister's day or aunt's day, so I wanted to do something special together. I invited her/us to go get our hair washed. I haven't done this in almost six months, yet as soon as I walked in the hair washing women not only recognized me, but also asked Trang whether I am gaining weight. Oh, Vietnam. Once we were washed and massaged and cucumbered and washed some more, we went on to the next phase of the day.

For quite some time, Trang has been promising to teach me how to make fried chicken with a fish sauce glaze, which I tried at her family home way back when. We were supposed to finally do it this past weekend, but when the day came, Trang wasn't feeling well. Today her son, who loves to cook, would be my teacher. I mostly just watched and took notes, but it is a remarkably simple dish, totally within my capacities and totally reproducible back home. I intend to bring Vietnamese-style buffalo wings to many sports watching get-togethers in my future. As the afternoon rains washed away some of the heat, we feasted on our handiwork.

Ta-da

When I was back home, the power was gone for most of the afternoon, and I wondered whether it would come back in time for the English club. It did. For a while I thought no one was going to show up. No one was there, not even whoever was supposed to come with a key to unlock the classroom. Two students showed up, though, and they invited me to play shuttlecock/jianzi/Vietnamese hacky sack with them while we waited for more people to show up. I surprised myself by exhibiting more eye-foot- and eye-random-body-part-coordination than I expected. But I wasn't doing any stellar, behind the back kicks, like one of my more expert students. Two random students, not coming for the club, saw us playing and joined us. By 6:20, we decided it was time to just go ahead and start, even though there were only four students. I showed them a brief slideshow of pictures from Cambodia, which they had requested, and after that I decided it was time to have some fun. Since there were so few of them, I invited them to go have a sinh to (smoothie) with me instead. It is avocado season and I am definitely going to drink as many avocado smoothies as I can before I go. It was nice to sit and chat with them in an informal setting. Despite the fact that I had very clearly been the one doing the inviting, my students did not let me pay, saying I could pay next time. I told them that this meant that they were committing to a next time.

This morning I woke up early to go with Trang to a relative's house for a death anniversary. It would also be the last time I would see her family.I initially thought we were going to her parents' house, but it was actually someone else's house so, of her nuclear family, only her dad and brother were there. I felt like I had barely arrived and then it was time to go. I got there around 830 or 845; Trang's husband was my ride back and he wanted to leave at 10, so home I went. It was hard to keep it together when saying goodbye. Trang's dad and I exchanged long well-wishes and a long, firm handshake, and that was it. I barely managed to keep my tears in, and I let them out on the road. Crying on the back of a motorbike is debatably the best semi-public place to cry in Vietnam. People might see you, but the only person you know is sitting in front of you, and will (hopefully) never know.

Plate after plate after plate, as usual

I'm remembering the days I cried in September when I felt like I had this interminable stay in Vietnam ahead of me, and getting to the other side of the next nine months felt like driving across Texas when the road is an unwavering straightaway into the distant horizon. And now here I am, crying because I'm about to reach the horizon and a big bend in the road.

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty glum in the early afternoon. Luckily, my day didn't end there. I went out with Thy and Tuc. Originally, they were just going to help me get some photos printed, but that ended up expanding to dinner, Asian-style photobooth pictures at the supermarket, and a new milk tea place. It was just the time with friends, out of my head, that I needed. It could have been bittersweet, colored by the pall of impending goodbyes, but it's not the end yet, and I'm not going to mourn farewells while I'm still here.

Vietnamese, tối ngày sáng đêm

Monday morning was supposed to  be my second to last class with the 2nd years. A few minutes before class was going to start, I got a text message from the students, asking if we could meet in the canteen instead of in the classroom. I wondered if this was because it would in fact be the last class, but they said no, next week would be the last class. About five minutes after I joined them at the canteen, the student who acts as a class representative got a text from the teacher, stating that it would be the last class. So much for that. I texted the teacher to confirm that I would not be teaching next Monday, and it took about five texts for him to definitively tell me the same thing he had just told the student. So, all of a sudden, it was my last class after all. I usually try to plan something special for the last class. Usually a lot of review games and probably some course evaluations. I was disappointed that I didn't have a chance to make the last class special, but I was glad that at least our time at the canteen (about the first half of class) felt like a celebratory change of pace.

Goodbye K8 students!

While at the canteen, the students asked me a lot of questions about my trip to Cambodia. Among other things, I told them that many Cambodians thought I was Cambodian. My students all laughed. One of them asked me why they thought so. I said I didn't know, and one student slyly replied, "I do." I was about to tell them that many people mentioned my skin, and pointed at my arm, but before I could say anything another student exclaimed, "because you're black!" Everyone laughed. And yes, I guess by Vietnamese skin tone ranges, I am pretty black.

This reminded me of something I forgot to mention about my time in Cambodia. By now you know that in Vietnam, women aspire to be fair-skinned, and take more pains than a vampire to keep the sun off of their skin. However, on my last day in Cambodia, I encountered a refreshingly different perspective. I was leaving the last temple and a saleswoman who had approached me when I went in saw me and tried to convince me to buy something from her. During the course of our banter, she asked me where I was from. She expressed surprise at the fact that even though I was American (and therefore expected to have light skin) our skin was the same color. And then, completely unexpectedly, she said, "our skin is more beautiful." Even though many Vietnamese people have understood and accepted that many people in the US actually prefer to be tan, it was a really treasured moment to hear that self-affirming assertion coming from the mouth of a Southeast Asian woman.

Anyway, at the end of class, I made a short impromptu speech about how much I had enjoyed teaching my students, and wished them the best in their future endeavors. I reminded them that even though I wouldn't be teaching them anymore, I'm still here, and encouraged them to come see me or have meals with me. And that was that. It was over and I'm down to Friday classes with first years and English clubs with whomever bothers to show up.

Last night I had a really good Vietnamese moment. A common recourse for a language student lacking confidence is to talk quietly. If you talk quietly enough, no one will hear you make a mistake. But if you're talking that quietly, no one will hear you say it right either, and when you're asked to repeat yourself you'll end up feeling less confident whether or not you actually said it right. My students do this in class and it drives me crazy, but the truth is I do it to with Vietnamese. I recently decided that I must have at least one Vietnamese beverage every day for the rest of the month (coconut juice, sugarcane juice, smoothie, ...). Last night I went looking for a coconut, but the woman I usually buy them from didn't have any at the front of her store. I saw her sitting in the back in a hammock and I didn't want her to have to come out to help me if she didn't have any and I wasn't going to buy anything, so I shouted to her to ask whether she had any coconuts. Without hesitation or an expression of confusion, she replied that she was out. It was a really simple question to ask, something I could have asked after my first few Vietnamese lessons back in Hanoi, but the fact that I asked it -- and shouted it (it's hard for me to keep tones when I have to shout) -- and was instantly understood was a great feeling. Since she didn't have any, I decided to get sugarcane juice, and my exchange with that vendor was similarly assertive and successful.

I sort of had a Vietnamese lesson with Trang today. I turned in one test, took another, and got one to do tonight. The tests are actually really helpful for both of us to see what I know and find gaps in my knowledge that Trang can subsequently fill. I can also sometimes see that I'm better at this than I thought. Reading comprehension is definitely my strength, but I think that's more because I'm a good test-taker than because I'm really good at it. Still, it was exciting today when I understood all but a few words of a whole paragraph that I had to read. It felt minor, basic, but then I reminded myself that that I wouldn't have been able to make heads or tails of that paragraph a few months ago. Whether or not I've achieved as much as I once hoped doesn't mean I haven't achieved anything. I learned that a sister-in-law is an em dâu. The second word is the same word as the word for strawberry, but a sister-in-law is not considered a strawberry sister; it's just a coincidence. I also learned a new favorite Vietnamese phrase: tối ngày sáng đêm. Literally it means something like, 'dark, day, bright, night,' and it's used similarly to how we would say 24/7. In other words, it means always. 

In the evening I had the teacher's English club. Before going I went out to get some dinner, and I think one of my students had that 'realizing your teacher has a real life' moment. She was behind me in line and when I turned around and said hi to her she looked and sounded just utterly flabbergasted to see me. I wasn't sure whether there would be English club or not (actually, I was pretty sure there would be but I was hoping that for some reason it had been canceled but no one had told me) so I texted Mr. Luan to ask. He is the person with whom I have the biggest language barrier, but today I realized that I was perfectly capable of asking him about it in Vietnamese, and decided to make his life easier instead of my own. I texted him in Vietnamese, and we had a whole series of exchanges about the club and whether or not I had had dinner. It was nice for me, and I bet it was way more comfortable for him to be able to talk to me in his native language.

My wish sort of came true, and only four people showed up for English club, and two of those four are required to be there. So, everyone decided to go out for smoothies and fruit salads instead. This fit in perfectly with my vow to make the most of Vietnamese beverages, and I got a jackfruit smoothie. While we were there, Mr. Luan kept showing everyone the text messages I had sent him, and people were quite impressed. I was glad that I had actually composed the message with my own ability rather than with the help of Google translate, so I could feel proud rather than guilty. I feel like I've turned over a new leaf with Vietnamese, and all I can say is better late than never.

Invaders!

This weekend was so dull that the few things worth writing about are mostly bug appearances. It seems that the rainy season is injecting a new vigor into my visitors, or maybe it is just pushing them into my nice, dry home.

A few nights ago there was a millipede crawling on the outside of my mosquito net when I went to bed. When I woke up, it was on the inside of my mosquito net. This might have been alarming, but I was recently caught describing millipedes as snuggly. Of all of the critters that might make it under the net, this one is one of the least unwelcome, as long as it doesn't try to snuggle with my face or any of my orifices.

I had another spider. It was one my bathroom door, and the similarity of colors made it so it took me a while to notice it. Finding a big spider after having been in a room for several minutes is like suddenly realizing that someone is watching you when you've been doing something embarrassing. Alarming, but not the end of the world. You just wish you'd noticed sooner.

Oh hello there! The flash really captures your leg hairs
quite nicely, don't you think?

Two nights ago I was greeted by a very busy-bodied tiny red and green striped hemipteran. I tried to take a picture, but it was too small and moving too fast. But those red and green stripes packed quite the graphic punch.

Crappy photo of my design conscious invader

Next, a host of psychotic ants seems to have taken up residence in or under both of my door frames. The result is that at certain times of the day, whenever I open my door, hundreds of tiny angry ants stream out and rush around in a frenzy. They cover everything within a certain radius of the door frame, and that tends to include my oblivious feet. In case you didn't know, those are attached to my legs. I don't notice the ants until I feel the now-tell-tale tickle on my legs that informs me that I am being bum rushed by ants at an impressive speed. Commence stomping around and swiping at my legs. Luckily, it doesn't seem like they bite. Also, trying to get rid of them makes me sweep more often.

What with the ants, last night I felt like I was being beset by the plagues of Egypt when I got my next set of insects. I heard a strange but persistent sound outside of my bedroom. Buzzing would be too gentle and rattling too harsh. Actually, razzling would be a pretty perfect onomatopoeia. Anyway, it wasn't long before two of the sources of that razzling sound made it into my room, and proceeded to awkwardly fly around, fluttering against me and any other surface that a good flier would normally avoid. I went to look outside to try and figure out where they came from, and there were about a hundred of them hovering around the light right outside my room. Where had they come from? How many more would make it into my room? It seemed if I attempted any catching and releasing I'd probably let 30 more into my room. The plague! I decided to wait it out. Maybe half an hour later, I'd gotten rid of the two in my room and the razzling from outside was replaced by loud thuds. I went to look again. The bugs were gone! More accurately, they were now covering the floor outside, dead or dying. The thuds were courtesy of a cat, who was pouncing on the ones that still quivered. Apparently several of those were clinging to my door, so for a while it sounded like the cat was trying to break its way into my room.

In non-arthropod news, I ate the pineapple my student gave me. Even though no one else would see it, I went all tropical homemaker on it and cut it in the fancy Vietnamese way. It was whitish rather than yellow, and I was worried that it wouldn't be good, but it was perfect. Possibly the best pineapple I've ever had.

This razzler drowned in the delicious juicy remains of my pineapple

Oh right. And the other big news is that I've started buying tickets for my June travels. Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, here I come!

Clockwork

It's May. Do you know what that means? Yes, it means that I have fewer than four weeks left in Ben Tre. But that's not what I'm talking about. It's the rainy season again. And just like that, with the turn of a calendar page, it has been raining every day. Now I have to re-remember that I should spend the afternoon inside or plastic clad unless I want to get stuck somewhere waiting for the rains to pass.

Perhaps Trang had been missing me, because on Wednesday night, when I got back to Ben Tre, she immediately asked me out to dinner. Actually, she had invited me to brunch first, but I was still in HCMC at the time. I was ready to suggest that we have pho, but she had an ace up her sleeve. After months of being promised it and with time running out, Trang decided to take me to have some black chicken. Not blackened chicken. Black-skinned chicken. Also known as gà ác, also known as silkies. They look like this when they're alive, and they look like this under all of those silky feathers. In a soup, they look like this:

It turns out the broth was black, too

That one was just to ease you in. Ready for the big reveal?

This might have been one of the most mind-over-matter meals I've had in Vietnam, even more so than the embryonic duck eggs, though the first time I had those I had the advantage that it was practically pitch dark. However, once I put it in my mouth, what do you know, it just tasted like chicken. The whole chicken was folded up into the bowl; the chickens are pretty small. It fell apart very easily, and under the skin it also looked just like chicken. I ate the whole thing, from head to talons, and picked clean quite the bone pile. It felt like I was making my very own owl pellet. Had I been enjoying the meal in the privacy of my own home, I might have felt little compunction to resist the urge to reconstruct the skeleton after the meal. But, instead, it was time for dessert.

Just to prove to me that I have only scratched the surface of local cuisine, Trang took me to try yet another new dish for dessert. It was another chè bưởi, which you may identify as a member of the set of those desserts I generally don't like but used to be called upon to eat. Luckily, this one fell into the 'not so bad' category. It consisted of coconut milk, a dash of durian, a sprinkling of peanuts (which I transferred to Trang's cup in accordance with both of our preferences), and the spongy white part of a pomelo (bưởi) peel. The durian was minimal enough to not be offensive, and the rest of it was fine. Unremarkable, but something new, and I think the latter was the point. Trang informed me that apparently the process of preparing the inner peel for this dish is long, difficult, and usually kept a secret by those who know it. On the way home she added two more 'cakes' to the list of things that are not cakes: bánh xà phòng (a bar of soap) and bánh răng (a gear, literally a toothed cake). I also had an exciting moment when I was talking to Trang about the phrase 'greased lightning', and when she didn't understand I was able to tap into my Vietnamese vocabulary to make it clear.

chè bưởi

My Thursdays are now free because this class ended at the end of May. That means I am now only teaching on Monday and Friday mornings, and doing English clubs on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. I would have had a long, boring day, but my friends came to the rescue. Trang and I went out for breakfast, to have the bun bo hue we were both craving. In the afternoon I got a text from a student, saying that she wanted to meet me later because she had a gift for me. What could it be? We met at 330 and she presented me with a plastic bag with something green inside. It was a pineapple that she had brought me from her home garden. It was huge. 

I added my shoe for scale

After receiving my sizable gift, I was invited out for drinks. It was an interesting mix of four senior girls, one of their brothers, and two freshman guys. As we were leaving campus, gray clouds started billowing in, and with them came a wind that swept the road clean and swept that road dust into our eyes. We made it to the cafe just as it started to pour. Luckily, we weren't in a hurry, and we had plenty of conversation to keep us entertained until the rain abated.

I taught one class this morning and was gearing up for the second when I found out that the students had requested that there be no class and the professor had acquiesced. I had plans to go out with Thuy, Trang's sister, for lunch. We met around eleven and she took me across the bridge to here favorite restaurant in My Tho. Last time we met, we went there for their famous fried chicken. I intended to order the same thing, but Thuy convinced me to try a new dish: chicken in tamarind sauce. It was amazing! I could have eaten the sauce by the spoonful. I briefly tried to eat the glazed chicken with chopsticks, but I quickly abandoned decorum and dug in. I drizzled the remaining sauce and caramelized onions all over my rice.

I saw two motorbikes with crates of doggies. I suspect they were
on their way to someone's dinner plate.

This adorable pup was safe, though.