Raise a glass

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”  - Henry David Thoreau

A toast I toast to myself:

Here's to getting lost. It's going to happen and that's ok.
Here's to losing things -- patience, hope, marbles -- and finding them again.
Here's to not understanding a word around me, but coming to understand more about myself.
Here's to taking off the training wheels and jumping into the deep end.

Here's to AMSM in Vietnam, part 2.
Here I go.
Bến Tre here I come.

Goodbye, say hello

It’s my last day. I’ve been thinking Friday, Friday, Friday, but today is my last day to get things done. As the day approaches, everyone’s first question has become, “Are you excited?”, but I know it is a rhetorical question. So I say yes, of course. But I don’t know if I am. I think I am so task oriented right now – I have been dreaming to-do lists – that I don’t have time or space for excitement. Maybe it’s that there is so much uncertainty I’m not sure what to be excited about, other than the great vague adventure I am sure awaits me.

Aside from all of the mundane daily preparations, which amount to driving a rut into the same streets several times a day, there have been the goodbyes. Having recently graduated, my friendships are already dispersed, so there are perhaps fewer goodbyes than usual, but that doesn’t make the remaining ones any less difficult. Saying goodbye is always the worst part of beginning an adventure. If I could fit everyone into my carry-on or give everyone a permanent portkey to wherever I am (I have been re-reading Harry Potter during my down time), I would have fewer qualms about my departure. But, as I am often reminded, the modern age is full of technological marvels, and as long as schedules can be arranged, contact can be maintained.

Whether you read every new post as soon as it is posted or check in every week or so, I appreciate your company. But here’s the thing: if you don’t tell me you’re reading, I won’t know it, so here comes a request. Leave me comments. Pick a reaction from the options at the bottom of the post. Send me emails. Send me postcards. Skype me. Keep in touch with me, whatever your communication style. As much as I’ll be trying to integrate into my new setting, don’t let me feel like I’ve been forgotten on the other side of the world. I’ll need your love and support.

T-minus 22 hours, 50 minutes, …

P.S. I have found a lucky penny almost every day since finding that $2 bill.

Six days, 18 hours, ...

I'll be honest. The main motivation for this post is for me to get off my chest the realization that by this time next week, I will be in the air, on my second flight, headed to Tokyo. All week I have been saying things like "I leave in just under two weeks," or "I leave a week from Friday." Well, it's Friday. I'm down to a week.

I'll spare you the (not so) thrilling details of my departure preparations, and instead I'll fill out this post with some trivia about Vietnam and Vietnamese culture, culled mostly from a travel guide* I received.

• "Over two-thirds of the population is under the age of 35"
• At its widest, the country is about 400 miles across. At it's narrowest, it is about 30 miles across. The coastline is about 1900 miles long.
• Over the centuries, deposits carried by the Mekong River have collected on a shallow undersea shelf, forming the Mekong Delta, which grows by dozens of square meters every year.
• "During the last three days of every month, dog-meat restaurants often heave with customers as Vietnamese believe that their specialty will help disperse bad luck accumulated earlier in the month. It is also believed that this protein-rich meat aids sexual potency."
• Ben Tre, pronounced more like Bun Treya, is on the aforementioned Mekong Delta. "The South has two seasons, wet and dry." The rainy months are from May to November, and the dry season is from December to April. Throughout the year, highs range from mid-80s to mid-90s, and the lows stay pretty steady in the mid-70s. Plus humidity, of course.

*Insight Guides: Vietnam, 2009

Luck changes hands

Yesterday I found some money, and among the bills there was a two dollar bill. In Vietnam, these are considered good luck.

I think I have seen a two dollar bill once before in my life. I am considering this find a sign.

Orienting towards the Orient

Late Tuesday night (after spending a week in Guatemala and three and a half days in Boise), I arrived in Washington, DC for the Pre-Departure Orientation. Orientation didn’t start until Wednesday at 5, so I spent most of the day roaming DC, seeing Bo (the Obama’s dog) on the White House lawn, going to art museums, and getting caught in a downpour on my way back to the hotel. On Thursday, Fulbrighters headed for Indonesia, Laos, Macau, Malaysia, Mongolia, Taiwan, Thailand, and Vietnam spent more than twelve hours getting a crash-course in teacher training, bombarding the alumni with questions, and getting to know each other. That night I dreamt that I was riding up and down the hotel’s elevator trying to find someone who could answer some big Vietnam-related question that I can no longer remember. Friday was more of the same: more panels, more teacher-training, and more questions, and more network building before jetting back home.

After these few days, what is in store for me feels much less nebulous, much more real, and yet still inconceivable. Every assignment is unique, so as much as I would like to say that everything is clear now, I only understand a variety of possibilities regarding what I might be doing and how I might want to prepare.Probably the most valuable or important lessons from orientation had little to do with the scheduled activities. The beginning of this adventure has not been without its frustrations. This summer it felt like information came at a trickle, questions were not always answered promptly, and sometimes I was left feeling like a screwup. Surely I was the only one who was confused about what I was supposed to be doing and when. Talking to my ‘cohort’, I realized I was most certainly not the only one. In fact, compared to some people it could even be said that I was in good shape. Talking to my peers also gave me something to look forward to. We are a good group, and establishing that human connection eradicates one more element of mystery.

We’ll see each other again in two weeks. I’ll be landing in Vietnam in two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks until my life rotates 180 degrees and the only thing I can do is put one foot in front of the other. It feels like I’m making a huge, irreversible change. Ten months isn’t the rest of my life, but on this side of it it sure feels like a long time. I’m processing. I’m getting ready.

Here is the next adventure

When I concluded my Parma blog a little over a year ago, I posted a picture asking, "Where is the next adventure?" At that time I didn't know when or whether there would be a next adventure; I just knew I hoped for one. I don't think I could have imagined where I am headed next. For the next ten months, thanks infinite to the Fulbright organization [see disclaimer about how this blog does not represent the views of the U. S. government, etc.], I will be living in Vietnam and teaching beginner English to university-aged students. I will be spending my first month receiving training in Hanoi, in the North, with the other 14 ‘Fulbrighters’. After that, I will be on my own, teaching in Ben Tre City, which is in the South.

When someone in my generation hears that I’m going to Vietnam, the usual response is general curiosity. “Why Vietnam?” or “I know so-and-so who went there and loved it.” Move one generation up and the reaction changes. I think it’s fair to say that for most Americans of any age, any mention of Vietnam triggers a mental leapfrog straight to the Vietnam War, but for people who weren’t around for it that just means that they know no reason to go there in particular. For people who were, that association comes with a memory of strong reasons to not go. Sometimes people say it outright, sometimes it’s in their face, but for people of that generation, the word Vietnam is heavy; the place is painful. Someone told me he lost his best friend there. So, let’s answer everybody’s first question. With a confession.

Every time someone asks me “Why Vietnam?” I am forced to ask it of myself. Why did I choose Vietnam? There are two kinds of answers. The first kind is the kind I have given to most people who asked; it is the kind that is not quite true and not quite false, but that I think might sound best. It is some combination of the following:

1. Something about wanting to go to Asia, and Vietnam not having a language requirement
2. Something about wanting to learn a new language
3. Something about having a pre-existing connection to or familiarity with the culture because of having grown up in Houston

All of these are true, but they are not the full truth. Honestly, I applied to Vietnam because:

1. Based on last year my odds were better if I applied to Vietnam than to most other countries
2. I figured I could make a good case for myself
3. I applied on a whim and never thought I would get it anyway 
(Note that 3 is kind of in opposition to 1 and 2. So much for logic.)
4. The food. No further explanation needed.

I guess I’m glad I didn’t apply to Mongolia, which was another option based on reason 1 – until I realized I would not be an effective teacher once I became an icicle.

So, I whipped together an application in a few weeks and in the process realized that I had surprisingly relevant credentials: teaching English in Italy, teaching Spanish in the US, several languages already under my belt. After I completed my interview, the din of everything else in my life, a.k.a. Thesis, put post-graduation life more or less in the back of my mind, mostly drowning the nagging voice that insisted I be more proactive. Then, in January, I got an email saying that I was a finalist… and that finalists have a very – Very – high chance of actually receiving the award. I spent a couple days in shock. As I said, I never expected this to become a reality. But, once I got over my shock, I realized that if the odds described were accurate, I had an excuse to continue to ignore that nagging voice and continue to pretend like I didn’t need to be looking for a job. The other part of that email, though, was that I might not find out until as late as July. So, in moments of paranoia, that voice would pipe up again; what if I sat around waiting until July, and then didn’t get it?

Luckily, that was not the case. I just had to wait until the end of April to get that yes, which was almost as scary as getting a no would have been. Even though I received the award I didn’t have to say yes, but how could I say no to this opportunity? I pulled it together, got my rally cap on, hitched up my britches, and any other relevant expressions you can think of, and set my mind to it. I would be living in Vietnam for ten months. I would move to a country of whose language I don’t speak a smidgen, hoping to leave sounding more articulate than a four year old, trying to teach other people another language at the same time. Sounds like the makings of an adventure. 

Now, here I am, starting my second travel blog, though ‘travel blog’ seems like a misnomer. I will be elsewhere, and new experiences will abound, but this won’t be the annals of a life of leisure. There will be trials and tribulations and, if anything is to be learned from last time, transportation mishaps. I look forward to the miscommunications, the rhetorical falling and standing up again, to the vịt lộn, and to everything else I can’t even imagine. I hope you come with me.


P. S. A closing confession:
I actually wrote most of this in May, but I figured it was too early to start blogging back then. Now, exactly two weeks from my departure, my life feels like it is accelerating and it is time to begin.