The one few will ever read

“Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.” – Paul Theroux

I miss Vietnam. I miss it a lot. As the passage of time buffs away memories of frustration and homesickness, I find myself homesick for the ideals of my experience. I miss my students, their smiles, their energy. I forget their silences. I become nostalgic for the hand-sized spiders in the bathroom.

I miss the food, of course. But that's the one thing I can almost get here, though it's almost never the same. I miss speaking Vietnamese, yet I rarely conversed in it there. I was on the cusp of daring before I left, and I miss the chance I would have had to come into my own if I had stayed.

I forget the loneliness and I remember the adventure. I miss the wind in my hair, forgetting that I always wore a helmet. I miss the potential for adventure being around every corner, even though it did all become mundane after a while. I miss chasing adventure on weekends away, clinging to the back of the motorbike as my favorite pilot whizzed us over country roads.

I miss the love and care that I didn't always feel but was undeniably there. It seems that every time the pessimistic voice pops up, suggesting that I've been forgotten, that those I might have touched have moved on and left me behind, I get an email or two from former students. And it makes my day.

I miss Vietnam and the life I made there, but I am grateful to realize I have no regrets. I could have done things differently; I could have pushed further beyond my comfort zone, but I was already living thirteen time zones past it. So I think that was plenty far enough. Now I just want to go back.

Last day in Vietnam

I had two goals for my time in Hanoi. The first was to eat snake. The second was to have rice ice cream every day. I did not quite accomplish my second goal, but I had quite a lot of it. My first goal was going to be accomplished on Monday the 29, but it ended up falling through. I resigned myself to a snakeless fate, but destiny is not so easily lost. One of the Malaysian ETAs, Janice, really wanted to eat snake. So, the day we got back from Sa Pa, she, Violet, Taylor (Vietnam ETA), and I went out for snake. Eating snake usually involves drinking a lot of vodka, but we had a low-key, relaxing lunch in a hut over the water.

We arrived and a snake was pulled from it's cage for us to approve of as our meal. We were startled when the snake snapped at the handler's face, coming within just a few inches of him. After petting the snake, we were lead to a table. The snake was brought out and we watched as it was slit open, the heart was removed, and it's blood was drained into a glass. Then, another slit was made and unnaturally green bile was drained into another glass. Both were mixed with vodka and we all received a Christmas-colored set of shots. Additionally, the heart was placed in another shot. One guess as to who got the honor of tossing that one back. It was went down easier than I expected, though I imagined that I could feel the heart softly beating it's way down my esophagus. The blood shot was surprisingly sweet, and left just a hint of that iron-y blood aftertaste. The bile shot, meanwhile, seemed to exacerbate the worst qualities of cheap Vietnamese vodka. The meal itself was ten small dishes of snake prepared in different ways. Ground meat, fried ribs, intestines, spring rolls, soup, snake meatballs, snake eggs, and more. Videos not for the faint of heart. 

Blood and bile

To Fulbright!

Assorted snake dishes

My last meal was my van than, which took me too long to realize is the northern spelling of my hoan thanh, which is the Vietnamese transliteration of wonton. In contrast to my opinions on almost any Vietnamese dish, in this case I much prefer the northern version, and it was a satisfactory conclusion to my near-year of Vietnamese cuisine.

The next morning I left bright and early for Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I am staying with a friend and former boss, and it's such a nice setup I'd be tempted to stay for the month if I hadn't already bought flights around Asia. 

View from my bedroom window

Sa Pa

Our trip to Sa Pa could not start without some necessary tangles. We reserved seats on the train overnight and then had to find the private company's ticketing office to pay and pick them up. We went to the address where we thought it was located, but found nothing but a residential alley. We went to a wifi cafe to try and find the right address. While there we found a new address, reserved our Sa Pa hotel, and succumbed to some melancholy. The cafe had a very western atmosphere, but at the same time it was inescapably Vietnamese. A single Vietnamese pop song was playing on loop; Christmas lights spelling out 'happy new year' decorated the counter; I was drinking passion fruit juice, and our window seat looked out onto a rotunda with a patriotic sculpture at it's center. It was simultaneously a reminder of the home I'll be returning to and a reminder of the new home I'd soon be leaving. Anyway, we got back on our feet and went to the opposite side of town to get our tickets, only to find that we were at the wrong place yet again. We went back across town, further into that residential alley, and discovered that the ticket office was on the third floor of someone's house. They told us that because we had not gotten our tickets sooner they had given them away but we were fortunate because another duo had canceled their trip so we could have their tickets. A dubious tale, but we finally had tickets and would be on our way to Sa Pa.

The beds in the sleeper cabin of the eight-hour overnight train are probably uncomfortable for anyone much taller than me, but I found it surprisingly easy to sleep for the whole trip, and woke up at six am just in time to disembark at the Lào Cai train station. Another 40 minutes in a van brought us to Sa Pa. We passed several beautiful terraced rice fields on the way but I didn't take any pictures because I assumed that I'd be getting better views of them later. However, after an unintentional nap, a dense fog rolled in and shrouded the landscape for the rest of the day. As a result, we took it easy. We walked around Sa Pa town, through the markets and to the church, and made plans for our next two days. At dinner we had a lovely experience with some very strange 'western' food and an adorable waitress who delighted in our Vietnamese skills and kept coming over to chat with us and ask us how to say certain things in English.

Hmong Mary and Jesus

Rain gathering on cobwebs

Locally brewed beer

On Saturday we braved the weather and the winding roads. We rented a motorbike and, with Violet at the helm, meandered through the mountains. We couldn't see much of the impressive views that the valleys would surely have offered on a clear day, but we passed waterfall after waterfall and the fog and the ferns made us feel like we were in a prehistoric jungle. We passed the Silver Waterfall and drove into the next province. We started going into the valley at that point, got below the fog, and got some nice vistas.

Into the fog

Emerging from the fog

Silver Waterfall

Getting below the clouds

Terraced rice fields in the valley

We were going to go to another village after we came back and warmed up with lunch, but the fog turned into rain and the roads were really bad, so we decided to call it a day. We met up with some Fulbright ETAs from Malaysia who are on their halfway break and have been touring Vietnam. Being with them, and having spent some time with the ETAs in Laos, makes me really appreciate the Fulbright network. Other ETAs can understand my experience on a different level, but also offer new perspectives because of the cultural differences between our countries.

On Friday we booked a Sunday tour of the Bắc Hà market. It is supposedly a market for locals, but for the most part it seemed like a market for locals to sell their handicrafts to tourists. Nevertheless, there were definitely less-touristy sectors, like the livestock areas and the food stands. We watched people poke and haggle over scrawny ponies, squat around caged songbirds, and inspect the rumps of water buffalo. I pet one such buffalo. The best part of the market was seeing the incredibly beautiful and intricate garb of the local women of the Flower Hmong tribe.

Note the woman on the far right carrying a puppy like a purse

Beaded and embroidered baby carrier

Horse sale area

The pigs looked different than they do in the South

Snake bits (a preview of my next post!)

Crochety-looking water buffalo

After a few hours roaming the market, we were taken to a village whose inhabitants still seemed to be at the market, so it was pretty much empty. I did learn that the current crop in the fields is a mix of soy (the yellow leaves) and corn, and that rice will be planted next. We also went to a river that divides Vietnam from China.

Soy and corn fields in the valley

China!

On the Vietnam side of the river

We got dropped off at the train station in Lào Cai (the one closest to Sa Pa) and Violet, the three Malaysian ETAs, and I hung out at a bia hoi place to while away the hours until our night buses back to Hanoi.

Tearless

"Remember me and smile, for it's better to forget than to remember me and cry."

I left Ben Tre on May 26. A cohort of seven people, including teachers, administrators, students, and local officials accompanied me on the two hour drive to the airport and then sat with me to wait for the two or three hours until it was time for me to go to the gate. I had been close to tears a few times in the morning on the way back from a last breakfast with Trang, but I had kept it in at that time. Maybe because I tried to swallow them then, my eyes stayed dry for the rest of the day. We were driving away from Ben Tre and halfway across the bridge into the next province when I realized that Ben Tre was literally and figuratively behind me. I turned around for one last view of the palm-covered island that I called home for nine months. It was a moment.

I met Violet and her respective cohort at the airport. When the time came to say goodbye, Trang told me to 'just go.' I thought she was trying to help me not cry, but when I hugged her I realized that she was the one trying not to cry. I had been feeling like there weren't any goodbye gifts that could begin to show my love and appreciation for her, but I was struck with a last-minute inspiration and gave her the lucky two-dollar bill I found before I came to Vietnam and told her the story behind it.

My caravan

Saying goodbye to the 'big woman in a blue suit', as she described herself before
picking me up at the same airport nine months ago

The next several days in Hanoi passed in a blur. ETAs filtered in and we looked for a balance between last Vietnamese experiences and transitional western meals. We went to a soccer game, which was something I had wanted to do since arriving in Vietnam. The stadium was pretty empty, but the fans of the visiting team waved flags, banged drums, honked horns, and reminded me of Italy. Hanoi (in blue) won 3-2 with a last-second goal.

Opposing fans

We had a short and sweet concluding conference and lots of farewell functions and before we knew it our term as Fulbrighters was officially over. People trickled away. Some are home already; some of us are still traveling. On the 31st Violet and I took an overnight train and we are now in Sa Pa, the last place on my must-see list in Vietnam. When I get back to Hanoi on the 4th, it will be to commence my month of Southeast Asian adventures. I'll try to keep you informed.

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.