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.

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.

Cake might give you a spare tire, but...

Remember those plastic nets my students were making for their costumes? Check out the final results.

The conference started with academic presentations, one from me and one from another teacher. My main message was to encourage them to stop citing a lack of foreigners as an inconvenience in their English development, and to start using each other as resources. Then the conference got fun. The four classes (2 1st year groups, 2nd years, and 3rd years) all presented a 'cultural performance,' of which I was one of the judges. The performances consisted of a Korean coming of age ceremony, a Japanese tea ceremony, an Egyptian embalming ceremony, and a scene from Brazilian carnaval, seen above. The carnaval was the most exciting, but the first years' embalming was the best in my opinion.

Then we moved on to plays. I starred as a wise woman in the seniors' play. At the end of the night, prizes were given out for the cultural performances and for the plays. To be honest, I was disappointed that the prizes ended up getting distributed in accordance with class (seniors got first, second years got second, and so on). The second years did a spectacular job with their play. It was well-acted, hilarious, and well-pronounced.

Earlier in the day, I had my last. ever. monthly schedule meeting. I almost wish I had one more right before leaving, because it is probably my least favorite thing on my schedule. There's nothing terribly awful about it; it's just unpleasant to be in a meeting that is entirely about you, your future, your performance, but to be unable to understand anything that is being said in the meeting. After that Trang and I had an early pre-conference dinner. I took her to the banh cuon place I went to with Thy last week. Even though Trang said it didn't measure up to some good places in HCMC, she was glad we went because it is a dish she likes that she hadn't found in Ben Tre, so it hit the spot.

bánh cứơn

I learned that bánh, the word for cake, which doesn't really mean anything like cake in the English/American sense (note that the dish we had also contains this word), is also used for tires (bánh xe) and rudders (bánh lái). If I needed any further indication that Vietnamese is crazy, I think that's it.

Cravings

Speaking of what's become normal, last night I dreamed that I walked into a bank asking for dollars. The thing was that I was speaking Vietnamese but none of the people there were Vietnamese and so no one understood me.

This morning I had my Vietnamese lesson. Trang met me and told me that she had a surprise for me, and that she hoped it wasn't terrible. Then she asked me where I wanted to go to breakfast, because she wanted me to be in a good mood before my surprise. That did not bode well for this surprise. Over breakfast we discussed the food cravings of pregnant women. Trang told me that many pregnant women in Vietnam eat clay pots. Clay pots. They crave them so intensely that they usually finish eating the lid by the time they get home from buying one at the market. She also told me that people think that if a woman craves sour food, she will have a daughter.

After breakfast we went to get bubble tea. Trang said it was time for my surprise, and again said she hoped it would be ok. I was going to say that the only surprise that would be a bad surprise would be a test, but just as I was about to say it I saw her reaching into her briefcase and I realized that that was exactly what my surprise would be. Vietnamese pop quiz! The first page was pretty rough. I had to label pictures of objects that I should know but for some reason don't (pen, chair, that sort of thing). If I had been asked to label pictures of fruit I would have rocked it. I also had ten questions with four words each, and I had to circle the word that didn't fit in each set. This was challenging if I didn't know more than two words in a set. Next, I had a short answer section. This one was much easier. I felt pretty clever when I confronted "What do you do at [time of day]?" I recognized that the word stood for a time of day, but couldn't remember what time of day it was. My answer? I eat pho. Perfectly suitable at any time of day. On the back I had to answer some multiple choice questions and read a short passage and then answer some reading comprehension questions. This side was a breeze. I scored 23 out of 40. Not stellar, but not totally abysmal.

After that I had a regular lesson, and I've gotten pretty comfortable telling stories in Vienglish. Too bad I can't get away with that on my final exam. I learned the word for 'dimples'. At first I misunderstood Trang's English explanation and thought that she was saying that it was the same word as corn, but it turns out that it is the same word as coin, dòng tiền. Neither makes too much sense to me. I also learned that if you don't look good in a photo, people say that you didn't eat the photo. Bạn không ăn ảnh. In other turns of conversation Trang told me that her senior students now email her in English, and she credits me for this change. I figured out how I ended up with a bug in my previous milk tea. It turns out it was a bee, not a fly. Forgive me for misidentifying it; I had already chewed on it. The place where they prepare the drinks is outside, and they line up glasses full of the tapioca to have them ready for whenever customers place their orders. Meanwhile, bees buzz in and out of the glasses. I guess they don't always make it out before the drink makes it in.

English club was in the evening. For the last several weeks, only first years have come, so I was pleasantly surprised to see three seniors, especially since this is their finals week. We talked about family. First I asked each of the students to describe their families in detail. Names, ages, occupations, et cetera. Then I made a big elaborate family tree on the board. Then the students asked me a ton of hypothetical questions. If I could choose between having an older brother or an older sister, which would I choose? What would I do if one of my children was a bad student? Would I like to have twins? It was nice to have the seniors there to make the club less of a lecture and more of an exchange, but looking at the first years' faces it sometimes looked like they were feeling left out.

From your great grandparents to your grandchildren, and in-laws too

Trang and I went out to dinner. It's been a long time! We got there and she sprung another test on me. Really? But thankfully it was a take home test, not a dinner test.

Normal for now

"Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way." - John Keating in Dead Poets Society

Time is wrapping up. Six weeks left. When I got here, it seemed like almost every story about an experience could start with the words "this was the first time I ever...". Now, things are in a different light. Many times I wonder, will this story be "it was the last time I ..."? It's  not over yet, but time is slipping through my fingers. I already finished teaching the third years several weeks ago, and I recently found out I only have two weeks left teaching the second years. It seems like by May my schedule will have simmered down to first years on Friday and the two English clubs. Anyway, the impending end has made me very reflective about how I, and my view of normal, has changed over these last several months. Some of these changes stem from prolonged exposure to cultural differences, and some are just lifestyle changes.

• Wearing pajamas in public, during the day
• Not understanding most of the conversation around me at any given moment, and treating human voices like white noise
• Being woken up by roosters (but that doesn't make this any less annoying)
• Riding a motorbike - while carrying a hamster in a plastic shopping bag, while using a toothpick, with more than one person
• Living in a home easily and frequently accessed by an assortment of critters
• Living alone
• Eating with chopsticks
• Relying more on body language than ever before/practically becoming a mime
• Shouting at waitstaff to get their attention
• Only using cash and knowing that $10 or $15 will should last me into the next week
• Mentally narrating my day in anticipation of blogging
• Gnawing on bones and eating skins
• Throwing my trash on the floor in public establishments
• Not expecting events to happen until they are in fact already underway - generally not having any expectations at all
• Identifying my students by their eyes (or handbags) when I see them outside of class and that is the only part of them that is not shielded from the sun 
• Greeting people by nodding at them

That list isn't even close to complete. But the thing that strikes me is that, six weeks from now, this won't be normal anymore. This has become my life and, abruptly, it won't be anymore. Despite the eagerness to go home that the countdown wiki on my laptop dash might suggest, I'm feeling a little anxious about the change. The thought of leaving, of never coming back, is hard. There is a small but dense pit of sadness that I feel somewhere between my heart and my stomach every time I think about leaving. Even if I ever come back, I can't come back to this moment, to this life, to this feeling of normalcy I have acquired over so many months of total abnormality. What now? Allison, fellow ETA, has adopted a mantra of making the days count instead of counting the days, and I think it is both clever and sage. So maybe instead of watching Dead Poets Society in the afternoon and getting a good blog quote, I'll be getting out of my room a little more.

Yesterday I rescheduled my morning class to the late afternoon because I was coming back from Tra Vinh in the morning. Since I finished teaching at five, I decided to go ahead and get dinner. Eating at that time is perhaps one of the few Vietnamese 'normals' that I have continued to resist. Getting food at that time means dealing with rush hour traffic, but more importantly it means feeling hungry again before I go to bed. However, yesterday showed me it might be worth it to make adjustments. By the time I usually go looking for dinner, usually between seven and eight, there aren't many appealing options left. But yesterday I discovered the plethora of options available at 5pm. I hadn't seen good spring rolls in months, and yesterday they were everywhere. I went to buy more gas canisters for my stove and the woman I buy them from asked me what I've done with my empty ones. I told her I still have them. She told me I should bring them to her because she refills them. The reason I still have them is because I knew they could be refilled, but I could never figure out where. Finally, I have an answer. I bought some corn next, and then I went to get some spring rolls. The place is across the street from the school, and on Friday I noticed a sign advertising the rolls. In Vietnamese, I had asked if she had any, but upon seeing me she immediately turned around and asked if any of her clientele spoke English. "Spring. Rolls." I said, in Vietnamese. "Oh, spring rolls. No, I'm out." I guess she remembered our interaction on Friday, because as soon as I came up to her yesterday she offered me spring rolls. She asked me how many and whether I wanted chili in my sauce and it felt good to not have her miming at me like most of the vendors I started frequenting earlier on. A student from another department stood there and gaped at me as I spoke to the woman in Vietnamese. "You speak Vietnamese?" "You're the American teacher, right?" Yes and yes. Just as satisfying as having several successful Vietnamese interactions were the scrumptious spring rolls, with a sauce so delicious I almost wanted to eat it with a spoon.

Third new year of the year

This weekend was the Khmer new year. I went to Tra Vinh, which has a significant Khmer population, to visit Violet and take part in festivities. Unlike the last time I traveled on a Friday the 13th, I was met with no bad luck or undue stress. I caught the bus to the ferry on Friday afternoon. An elderly man across the aisle tried to chat with me. No matter how many times I said I didn't hiễu, it turned out that I did actually kind of understand. After asking me where I was going (to the ferry), why I was going there (to go to Tra Vinh), and what I'd be doing there (visiting a friend), he jumped to a strange conclusion. He suddenly proclaimed that I spoke not only Vietnamese and 'American', but also Lao and Cambodian. After that I really didn't hiễu anymore, and he started chatting with someone who took the seat next to him. I really enjoyed the ride. Even if the weather never changes here, it's obvious that it's spring. We passed ponds full of blooming water hyacinths and lotuses and water lilies. It's not the same as Texas wildflowers, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

I took the ferry across the river; Violet met me on her side, and she drove me into Tra Vinh city. Naturally, our first order of business was to go shopping. I bought my first pseudo English shirt, and it even had some pseudo Italian to boot! Violet and I had dinner at a banh uot place I've been wanting to revisit ever since my first time in Tra Vinh, and it did not disappoint. We bought a kite and then went home for a bit to relax before our second dinner. At around nine we left for a bia hoi (fresh beer place) with Vincent and were met by some of Vincent's students. Sadly, the grill was broken, so I didn't get any of the grilled beef I'd heard so much about, but we had some great corn, fried chicken, and fried calamari.

In our new shirts

Saturday morning, Violet and I had the choice between going to the beach or going to a going away party for a foreign employee at her university. We chose the beach. It was more or less a 90-minute drive and, again, it was incredibly enjoyable. As much as I love new sights and new experiences, I love it when I can find something familiar in it. The wide blue sky full of cumulus clouds and the many, seemingly stray, cows reminded me of Texas. Some of the towns reminded me of Guatemala. The old churches had notes of Italy. By the time we got to the beach, I was feeling really good.

Getting onto a ferry

We were the only people at the beach. We set up under a thatched roof that shaded us from the sun above and the blistering sand below it, and we had a well-earned brunch that I bought before we left the city while Violet was having her clanking bike checked for our trip. The beach was not the blue water white sand paradise that destination beaches tout, but I hadn't been expecting it to be. It was covered in the most amazing shells, a surprising amount of lightbulbs, and the usual Vietnamese debris (assorted sandals, empty bottles of fish sauce, etc.). After eating and setting my inner child free to collect an absurd number of these shells, we went for a swim. We let ourselves get pruny before we emerged again to fly our kite. Though the kite was pretty, it came with a very short string. The wind carried it easily, but it couldn't get high enough to really glide.

Some of the shells were encrusted with barnacles

Mollusk-mohawked light bulb

Flying our butterfly kite

And then Violet found a dead puffer fish on the beach

While we were scampering around discovering the beach's trash treasures, a group of young Vietnamese guys arrived, with a big hoe in tow. They started digging in the sand and shouted at us to join them, but we declined. They came to us. It turned out that they were digging for crabs, and they brought one to show us. They might have accidentally-on-purpose released it at us. They caught it again, but one of them had to literally pounce on it to keep it from getting away. Crabs are fast! After a while of rocky conversation, they conscripted us to help them dig for crabs. A second crab was unearthed and somehow, in attempting to get it into the bag with the first crab, both crabs ended up springing free and swiftly scuttled in opposite directions. Unluckily for the crabs, they were recaptured. At this point, one of the guys thought it would be funny to try and drag Violet into the ocean, at which point I decided it was probably time for us to go.

That night we went to Ratana's home. He is one of Vincent's students, and he had invited us and several others to come celebrate his birthday. It was a striking treat to watch a group of young guys cooking for and serving the guests. They made a green mango and dried fish salad, fried chicken, and a fish soup that tasted like it was equal parts fish and peppers. It was a good mix of students and foreigners, as four of Vincent's friends teaching in other cities came in for the new year and came for Ratana's birthday. When the food was gone we decided to move on to karaoke. Unfortunately, we had only made it through one song when the power went out in the whole city. On the upside, the pitch black outside made it easy to see all of the stars.

Sunday was Khmer festivity day. We started out by going to Trà Cú, a Khmer town in Tra Vinh province. We went to the home of Mr. Hai, a teacher at the university. So began a day of culturally mandated debauchery. Mr. Hai plied us with Heineken, 333 beer, brandy, and three different batches of homemade rice wine. He told us that while the Vietnamese only drink until they are drunk, Khmer people keep going long after that. The alcohol was accompanied by a feast that included beef jerky that he brought home from Cambodia after a recent trip. He wanted to take us to observe some religious rituals, but social obligations summoned us to another house.

Our host is on the far right

The bacchanalia continued at a Khmer student's house. When we got there, we were greeted by a band of performers that included a king and queen, an old man, a 'ladyboy' (man in drag), a monkey warrior, and some demons. They and most of the town children paraded into the yard of the house we were staying at and gave a special performance. In the video below you can see the monkey warrior dancing and most of the other performers.

With the king

Ladyboy in the foreground, queen in the background

After they left we had dinner. It started off with curried duck, then a squid and greens dish, and then the main course came out. Drum roll please. It was dog meat stew. I had started to think I might leave Vietnam without trying it, but I should have known Vietnam would not disappoint me. Despite all of the negative opinions I had heard, I actually found dog meat to be perfectly palatable. It was certainly chewy, but it just resembled overcooked beef, which isn't so bad as far as bad meat goes.

It was only slightly awkward to have dogs lounging at our feet while we ate

We took a break from eating and drinking to go to the family tomb for a special ceremony. From what I understand, each family has a stupa-like structure where the ashes of all ancestors are kept. Families go pay their respects and monks lead each family in prayer. They also fling a lot of (holy?) water during the praying. After this, we went to what felt like a big neighborhood party. Musicians played Khmer rock and we spent the rest of the night dancing in circles around a table laden with fruits and flowers.

Having recently celebrated Easter and having now participated in three different kinds of new year celebrations, I have been reflecting about tradition. Last Sunday I was acutely aware of the importance of tradition. Without ritual or tradition, it's hard to sense the specialness you may expect a day to have. Most American holidays, even the ones I was able to celebrate with friends or family, just didn't feel quite right. They were missing the people or foods or activities that make them different from every other day. That, and most of my holidays are irrelevant and meaningless to everyone around me. Before Tet, I wondered if it would somehow feel more special than my own new year, even though it had no meaning to me, because it would be actively celebrated by everyone else around me. It didn't. Yesterday, though, got close. There was a large gathering of new friends, there was feasting, there was some ceremony, and there was a lot of celebration. I don't know that it felt as meaningful as 'my' holidays, but it felt like the right kind of special.

Cats and unexpected crunch

Sunday night, I was awoken by a very strange sound. At first it sounded like a baby, but that's not a sound I'm used to hearing on campus. But there were two sources of the sound. Was it two babies? It kind of sounded like a cat. Was it a baby and a cat? Two cats? I tried to close my ears and go to sleep but the mysterious duet was persistent and insistent. I untucked my mosquito net, got out of bed, and went to peer outside. This is what I found.

The end of the video sounds more like what I was hearing at the beginning. It went on and on and on. I had to use my iPod to drown out the two cats who managed to sound like babies crossed with cats crossed with Donald Duck. This second video is harder to hear, but it has more of the weird sounds.

Monday morning I taught Speaking. The day's topic was learning styles, and the students took a quiz to find out what their learning style was. I took it with them and was surprised when the results revealed that I was not just a visual learner but also a haptic (kinesthetic) learner. To be fair, my scores in each category were within five points of each other, but auditory was the lowest. As we tallied the class's results, I wished that this chapter in the textbook had been one of the first. It would have been an ideal exercise at the beginning of the year. It would have helped me teach better, and students could have put the relevant study tips to good use earlier on. Seeing that most of my students were auditory learners, I wondered whether they'd become this way after a lifetime of lecture-heavy education, or if it just happened to be that way.

Today I had my Vietnamese lesson. It got off to a rough start, mostly because Trang kept trying to just talk to me and I had no idea what she was saying. However, it ended up being a very interesting conversation (mostly in English), even if it wasn't the best lesson. We talked about our favorite Greek myths, and I corrected her pronunciation of Zeus, whom she was calling Juice. Eventually we got back to the whole Vietnamese lesson part of it. Tidbits include the fun to say "bóng bóng" (bubble) and "đạo tin lành" (Protestantism, literally religion of good news). We discussed the many terms for family members, and when we got to mợ, an uncle-in-law on your mom's side, it became the fourth item of the multi-toned 'mơ's I have gathered, so I decided to finish the set. Behold the perils of tone:

• mỡ - greasy
• mở - open
• mơ - dream
• mợ - uncle-in-law
• mờ - dim
• mớ - sleep talking

Additionally, I learned that there is no distinction between cousins and siblings. If you want to be specific your siblings are your anh/em ruột, literally meaning intestinal brother or sister, and your cousin is your anh/em họ (brother or sister of the same family name). When the people around us reacted to Trang saying the words for 'great grandmother', she explained that it is often uttered to insult someone. This segued into me telling Trang about 'yo momma' and yo momma jokes. That's definitely not something I ever expected to be teaching in Vietnam.

Trang and I went to the milk tea place for our lesson. The first time I went, I made it my goal to try as many flavors as possible. I certainly haven't tried all of the options yet, but I think I will have soon tried enough to confidently settle into a couple of favorites. The milk tea comes with an assortment of tapioca balls. My favorite kind is filled with passion fruit juice and bursts when you bite it. Today, I experienced a kind of tapioca I had not previously experienced in any of my visits. It was crunchy. Some sage or perhaps just curious part of my faculties decided to take it out of my mouth and look at it. It was not tapioca. It was a big, dead fly. I have intentionally eaten larvae here in Vietnam, and they were delicious, but it is another thing entirely to find an unexpected protein additive in your tea. I can't decide if this makes it better or worse, but I was actually enjoying the flavor of the impostor tapioca before I took it out of my mouth and found out what it was.

And on that note, let me close by telling you that there are only 50 days left until the official end of my term as a Fulbrighter. Whoa.

Rough patch

Wednesday morning I had my rescheduled Vietnamese lesson. We definitely spent more time speaking English than Vietnamese, but I did claw my way through telling a somewhat elaborate story. Today's mispronunciation jewel is rằng (that, as in 'She said that...') v. rặn (push, specifically as in pushing a baby out of your loins). Bonus: răng is teeth. The main thing I got out of today's lesson was a lot of introspection about language. In trying to tell my story, and working from the English in my head and trying to make Vietnamese come out of my mouth, I was hyper-aware of the level of detail and nuance we can express, which I cannot express in Vietnamese. Part of me marveled at it, and part of me wondered if it is superfluous, overcomplicated, if language could be a lot simpler and just as useful.

The evening's English club was music themed, and I played snippets of songs from different genres and asked the students to talk about their reactions to and opinions about the songs. One girl described rap as relaxing, and another said jazz was just confusing noise. In general, they disliked rock and jazz and liked pop, dance, techno, and country. They all agreed that reggae was very strange, though for some it was strange in a good way and for others it was not.

This morning I taught Listening and things went smoothly until the end. We had listened to an interview with a woman who heard voices in her head that told her to go to the doctor because she had a brain tumor, and the voices even gave her an address that turned out to be the address of the brain scan department of the hospital. Thanks to the voices, she was able to be cured. As part of the post-listening discussion, I asked students to talk to their partner about where they thought the voices came from. After giving them time to organize their thoughts, I called on some students to share their opinions with the class. I called on Tiên and that's when I hit a brick wall. Her reply, after an eternal 30 seconds, "I'm sorry, I don't know." I told her that it was an opinion question, so there was no wrong answer. Another eternity passed and she said "I'm sorry, I didn't listen." I repeated the question. "I'm sorry, I don't know." It's an opinion question. "I'm sorry, I didn't listen." In the past, I used to feel guilty about making everyone uncomfortable by keeping a student in the hotseat, but I had given everyone time to prepare their answers and at this point students should know the system. We kept going back and forth and after five minutes I had to let her sit down, though what I really wanted was to send her out of the class. It's one thing if a student is trying but struggling, but it's another thing if the student is refusing to try (and also demonstrating that she had not been following instructions). I interrupted the lesson to explain to them why I ask them to discuss with their partners: both to practice speaking and to make sure everyone has an answer, and that I therefore expect everyone to be able to answer the question if I call on them. My mini-lecture was lost on the most intended listener, though, as she and the girl next to her resumed whatever non-class related work they'd been doing as soon as she sat down. I resisted the urge to call her out and tell her that I was talking to her. I asked the next discussion question and went around listening to different students share their ideas with each other. I made sure to visit Tiên and hear what she had to say. Guess what her reply was when I asked for her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't listen." So, once again, I repeated the question and stood in front of her, expectantly. This time the girl next to her (who was still working on something that was not for class) saved her by whispering an answer in Vietnamese, and Tiên was able to reply. I told her that in the future I expect her to listen and participate and be able to answer questions, and that I do not like it when I see her doing things unrelated to class. These things should be able to go unsaid, but here's hoping that they inspire some change.

This weekend I'll have some ETA visitors who will join me in exploring the offerings of the coconut festival. I have no idea what that might entail, but I have seen a massive stage set up in the middle of the city lake and have had to walk around festival-related rehearsals on campus for the last month. I'm looking forward to finding out what's in store for us. 

Speed dating

Trang and I had another Vietnamese lesson this morning. It was not quite as magical as yesterday's, but it was pretty good. Today's language gem is the fact that if I'm drowning and in my panic don't pay attention to my pronunciation, I might shout "Marry me!" instead of "Help me!"

In the early afternoon I had my monthly schedule meeting for April. It struck me that I only have one more schedule meeting left. The meeting was more of a mess than usual because Trang wasn't there to translate for me and the person in charge of putting the schedule together wasn't there either because he is holed up studying for his upcoming Masters exam. Eventually everyone gave up and summoned Trang, even though she wasn't there because she was busy with another work-related activity. During the meeting it was proposed that we solicit third years to come to the adult English club and partner up with them in order to breathe some life into the wheezing and sputtering Tuesday night meetings. I was not a fan of this suggestion, and said so, but in true non-confrontational Vietnamese fashion I also said that I was willing to give it a shot if everyone was really intent on trying it.

By the time I left that meeting, the sky was a flat gray to the south of campus. Unusual for the dry season. Not long after, my room was being shaken by the rumblings of an approaching storm. It was loud, but it was brief, and it washed away the smell of smoke from all of the burning trash heaps. It also washed out the night's English club attendance. At first there were only six students. Eventually we had 12. I started them out in pairs, talking, and when we got more I decided to do speed dating style conversation. I set them up in six pairs, first years on one side and third years on the other side. Every five or so minutes I'd go 'bing bing bing' much to my students' amusement and one set of six would stand up and move down a chair. They really liked it, and they really spent the whole time speaking in English. After all of the first years talked to all of the third years, I mixed them up and the first years talked to each other and the third years talked to each other. It turned out that the third years had a lot of beef to discuss, and since I was standing in the midst of them I got quite the overheard earful. The general sentiment is that they are overworked and very stressed. Not only are they in their last semester of senior year, some of them are working on getting their teaching certification, and some are also taking a teaching and technology class. Additionally, the best students (those present in the club, largely) have gotten roped into participating in an upcoming speaking competition and several other events. Essentially, if they're good, then they're asked to do more and, just like me with my schedule, they don't have much of a choice. Then talk turned to teachers and their teaching styles. Apparently they don't like the atmosphere in the Translation class. They feel like the expectations are too high and their skills are too low, and the topics are too dense and boring. The whole semester is focused on environmental issues, and they think they would be better served by translating topics relevant to their future fields, like tourism and business. I wish there were a way for me to bring their feelings up with Trang to give her some constructive feedback straight from the horse's mouth, but I don't know how she would take it. I was glad to hear them reference my teaching style and activities as a better alternative.

Tiếng Việt! Tiếng Việt!

Yesterday was the last day of Translation. I was a glad I would no longer be teaching a class I never thought I should have been teaching in the first place, but I was sad because it means I will no longer be teaching the third years. I was selfishly glad at the students' mild outcry when I told them I wouldn't be teaching them anymore. (I guess no one else bothered to tell them.) Since it was the last day, I decided to do something fun and only loosely translation related: tongue twisters! Perfect pronunciation practice. We started with "she sells seashells by the seashore." Students are perfectly capable of saying "s" and "sh", but tend to switch them, because "s" is pronounced "sh" in southern Vietnamese. So, this tongue twister would draw their attention to saying the right one at the right time. Next, I made up a tongue twister that would pose no problem for a native speaker, but that was quite challenging for them. "Grandfather brings fresh flowers." This emphasized the difference between "gr" and "fr" (for some reason I often hear about people's frandfathers) and helped them practice consonant clusters. Like magic, rings became brings and lowers became flowers. I asked students to translate the twisters, just to keep it relevant to the class, and then we all practiced saying each word, then a few words, and finally the whole tongue twister. Then I asked them to volunteer if they wanted to try and say it on their own. To my absolute delight, I did not have to resort to calling on someone even once. I've been keeping track of who participates in class all semester, mostly to make sure I got everyone to do something at some point, and this activity brought out the last dozen students who hadn't made a peep all semester. I closed with course evaluations, the results of which you will hear about once I get around to reading them. And then, because everyone finished before the end of class, I asked them for some Vietnamese tongue twisters. I breezed through the first one, but didn't even try to tackle the second:

It turns out rồ rồ is actually the onomatopoeia for the sound a flailing fish makes

My second class was not so successful. I was teaching a speaking unit on advertising to my second year students, and the lesson ended up being more challenging than I expected. Since I thought they would have an easier time of it, I hadn't constructed my lesson plan with the necessary timing to allow for as much preparation and explanation as they needed. Nonetheless, I thought I eventually did a pretty good job of explaining the differences between advertising a product and advertising a lifestyle.

Today got off to a great start with Trang. We had bún bò huế for breakfast, and it might be on its way to replacing pho as my favorite Vietnamese soup. Or maybe it's just been too long since the last time I had pho. Then, we went to our now-usual cafe for my Vietnamese lesson. Even though I want to learn Vietnamese, I am often intimidated to try to speak it. The food vendors I've been frequenting since I arrived just expect me to mime, so most of the time that's what I do. I know that I tell my students that the only way they can improve is to use English whenever they can and to not be afraid to be wrong, but my advice is easier given than taken.

Despite my disheartening experience this weekend, today was a turning point. When I realized that I was about to ask Trang a question that I maybe sort of knew how to say in Vietnamese, I would give it a shot. If I said it wrong, I would learn how to do it right. I continued practicing my compound sentences. I continued to pin down lexical nuances that I only realize exist when I am actually using the language. For example, vì thế = so as in "and so," whereas nên = so as in "therefore." The crowning achievement of the day was -- with a lot of help from Trang -- telling a whole story in Vietnamese. I might not be able to effectively use Vienglish on the street, but having Trang fill in my blanks revitalized my wavering confidence. I was also proud of myself for remembering the phrase xí xô xí xào from over a month ago, when Trang prompted me to. We were having such a good time we didn't realize that we'd been out for two and a half hours.

A new dish. Nó mặn hay ngọt? Is it sweet or salty?

I used today's lesson to arm myself with phrases for my next visit to the pajama shop. How to say, too fast, repeat please, and I understand what you're saying but I don't know how to reply. I learned that in Vietnamese reduplication, saying the same word twice, diminishes the adverb. So saying beautiful beautiful actually means a little beautiful. I also learned kỳ cục, which means weird, and ngán quá, which means I'm fed up/I've can't take it anymore.

Tonight's English club went a little better than it's been going, I think largely due to the fact that I reverted to a lesson format rather than attempting discussion. However, the students handed me a sheet of questions that they want to choose from for future club meetings. I appreciated the indication of effort and commitment, but I really don't think that discussion is constructive for this group. During my Vietnamese lesson Trang intimated that everyone acknowledges that this club is a failure, but that no one blames me because they understand that I can't teach everyone given the range in skill level in the group. I would be gladder about it if it meant I didn't have to teach it anymore, but I think the school probably feels like ending the club would be admitting defeat on paper, and they'll look better if we just keep going even if we don't accomplish much of anything. On the upside, it looks like I'll start teaching that drawing class next month! I'm giving up another weeknight to do it and the students may or may not even speak English, but I'm so pleasantly shocked that this proposal is translating into reality that I won't be complaining for now. I'm already starting to think of how and what I'll teach.

Night light

Two nights ago a firefly found its way into my room. It took me about ten minutes to catch it and (take pictures of it and) let it out so it's green light might find it a companion. Last night I decided to watch a DVD I bought several months ago in Saigon. All of the actors were Italian, but the Vietnamese vendor assured me that the movie was in English. Unlike most of her clients, probably, that was the opposite of what I was hoping to hear. But I bought it anyway. I popped it into my laptop and hoped against hope that it would be in Italian despite her assurances. The menu came up and it was all in Russian. Well. That wasn't the language practice I was intending, but I might as well give it a shot. I pushed play and lo and behold it was in Italian after all. Hooray! It took me a little to get into the right frame of mind (the right ears?) to keep up, but soon it was like I never left Italy. For a while I was trying to mentally translate everything into English to prove to myself that I understood every word, but all that was doing was slowing me down. It was funny that I caught myself doing that, because I've always contended that you know you know a language when you don't have to do that.

The power was out for most of the day. With it went the water. So many of the little things that I don't get around to seemed like the perfect way to fill the time, until I realized that I couldn't do them. I couldn't iron my blouses. I couldn't write cover letters. And so on. So, I read a book. After that I tried to study Vietnamese. In the late afternoon I finally went on the walk I've been intending to take for ages. There are a couple new shops on the other side of the roundabout, and one offering a major sale. It was only until I was already dripping sweat outside when it occurred to me that a swankier shop with glass doors and everything might not be open if there was no power. I decided I might as well commit to a walk, and enjoy it even if the shops were closed. Luckily, the stores were open despite the power outage, and I found my second pair of miracle shorts. It's only taken seven more months of trying on shorts to find another pair that fit me.

I thought about getting an early pho dinner on the way back, but I cannot claim to be acclimated to Vietnam enough to honestly desire soup on a hot afternoon lacking the relief of an electric fan. Instead, I bought a couple of cold coconuts and paid a long-overdue visit to my pajama mamma. I had hoped that, with my recent upswing of Vietnamese lessons, conversing would be easier. Sadly, this was not the case. Her friend and her sister were with her when I arrived, but she invited me to join them nonetheless. It was nice, but it wasn't easy. Maybe their presence kept her from being quite as patient with me as usual. Mostly we redressed past topics like: how (hideously) tan I am and how tall and handsome Elliot is. A new topic was attempting to discuss what I did during Tet. Lots of other topics were (maybe) brought up, but I have no idea what they were. I felt a little discouraged, but I stayed for about an hour, and in that time we had a few sparkling moments of clarity.

Even though I spent most of the day loafing in bed (reading), my excursion made me feel like I'd made good use of it. As if to reward me, the power came back just as I was getting back to my room.

Happy pi day

Monday morning I taught Translation. I had a sketched out lesson plan that was essentially a repeat of last week, when I had students translate a recording about a US state, but when I got to the classroom I found that I wouldn't be able to use speakers because the only outlet was across the room. Luckily, I had my thinking cap on and it took me less than a minute to come up with a new plan -- and a pretty good one at that. I gave students 10 minutes to come up with a topic of their choice, and prepare a short speech about it. Then they would come to the front in pairs, one presenting and one translating. It went shockingly well. I didn't even have to call on anyone until after the fifth or sixth pair. I interrupted the translating to spotlight some pronunciation issues, and challenged students to pronounce the following words distinctly: glow, glows, close, low, love, glove. Believe it or not, all of those words often end up sounding like 'low' because students struggle with the consonant clusters at the beginning and don't articulate the consonants at the end. When I presented them as a set, they became more distinct, though glows and close were still hard to distinguish, but the real issue is getting them to be distinct even when they are not in direct comparison with a similar word. 

Yesterday I had my Vietnamese lesson with Trang. I hadn't had one in a while, but this one was quite productive. I learned conjunctions and am (theoretically) now able to construct compound sentences, assuming that I know all the other words I need. I learned that there is a specific word, lạt in the South and nhạt in the North, that means 'not salty enough,' but there is no such word to describe sweetness or other tastes. I also learned the word vừa miệng, which means 'just right', which is used to describe a dish that is just right in every way, not just regarding one specific element of it (e.g. temperature, seasoning, etc.). Trang finally revealed what had been going on when she sent me that 'something horrible happens' message last week. I was both happy that she felt like she could open up to me and happy that it wasn't as bad as many of the things that message had conjured in my imagination. I also found out that next week I'll be teaching my last translation class. Huzzah! I won't even complain much about the fact that I was maybe starting to hit my stride.

Trang's sister, Thuy, called to take me out to lunch. She is becoming the new purveyor of new dishes. We tried cá thát lát and tôm kho tàu. Both were delicious. After lunch, Thuy bought me another two kilos of mangos.

cá thát lát

tôm kho tàu

Later, I was surprised when two first-year students showed up for the office hours I forgot I had. I am pretty sure they will attend regularly; one of them made a point of showing up to all of Morena's office hours and serenading her the whole time. I was not treated to quite so much singing, though she did sing me Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA and a song in English by a Japanese singer.

I had English club in the evening, and I kind of took the teachers to task, though I don't think they noticed. With each passing week, this feels more and more like a waste of time. Equal amounts of time are spent speaking English, speaking Vietnamese, and in silence with people staring at each other. People are showing up later and later. Last week we didn't get started until 45 minutes after the scheduled time. So, last night I told them that we would stay as long as they talked, and if they didn't want to talk anymore then we could all go home. Things went ok. More importantly, I came to a realization. The reason that the club has declined so much, aside from the fact that only a handful of people show up anymore, is because the activities have changed. I used to teach lessons. In February, however, Trang became my co-teacher and she decided that I should tell the attendees next week's topic at the end of class, and ask them to prepare a presentation. Unfortunately, even though people prepare presentations, no one seems to want to present, so I have to spend a lot of time urging people to stand up and just read the piece of paper they have in front of them. Even though this is not unusual within the general student attitude in Vietnam, it is particularly frustrating because a) they are adults b) they choose to attend and c) they know what to expect. Then, because no one else understands the presentation, the presenter re-presents in Vietnamese, and then everyone starts discussing it in Vietnamese. So, next week, I am going back to lessons. This means more work for me, but if it also means that I can end Tuesdays on something other than a sour note, it will be more than worth it.

Today was uneventful. Now that I'm not teaching the USA class, I don't have anything on my schedule until 6pm. I made the most of my free time, getting around to some miscellaneous tasks that had fallen by the wayside. English club was much better attended this week, and we talked about the obtuse topic, Ambitions and Challenges, which my students requested last week. I found out on Friday that the reason they suggested it is because it is the topic of a speaking contest some of them will be participating in in a few weeks. It took a while to break it down and talk about the meaning of ambition, in particular, but we had a pretty good discussion even though it was dominated by consensus.

Russia and southwestern USA

2.23.12
Thursday morning I taught and went out for a smoothie with Ngoc and Phu before catching a bus to Saigon. In Saigon I meant to get a snack for the road but ended up getting another smoothie. It was my first time getting a beverage from a street vendor there, because for some reason in Saigon I still hold onto the traveler’s precautions that I’ve otherwise long since thrown out the window. I got a mixed fruit smoothie, which ended up including pomelo, soursop, passion fruit, and strawberries and was quite tasty. The cherry on top came when the vendor, who did not insist on speaking to me in English, complimented my Vietnamese at the end of our exchange.

I met Brittanye at the next bus company, and the two of us got on the bus to Mui Ne. It was my first time bussing north from Saigon, and even though the scenery wasn't that exciting, Brittanye and I had more than enough to talk about to fill the five hour ride. She got off in Phan Thiet, where she lives, which is about 20km from Mui Ne. Mui Ne is essentially a resort town laid out along one long street, whereas Phan Thiet is where the 'real people' (non tourists) live. When I got to my hotel I was a little concerned to see shards of glass covering the front steps and entryway, but it was a big enough place and everything else seemed fine so I didn't worry too much. I asked the receptionist to recommend a Vietnamese place for dinner and he did -- but when I went outside I realized that he had merely recommended the restaurant next door to the hotel. Furthermore, after I ordered, it was clear that it was not deserving of his recommendation. I did a little bit of wandering before going back to my room, and it felt like I had accidentally wandered into a tropical Russia. I was glad I had been mentally reviewing Russian prior to my arrival; it looked like it might come in handy.

2.24.12
When I woke up on Friday I headed straight to the beach. I bought corn from a woman selling it on the beach, and I was happy to conduct the whole transaction in Vietnamese. Usually, if I'm in a tourist area, Vietnamese people respond in English even if you initiate in Vietnamese, but she didn't. After I bought my corn, two Russian women approached me. (In Mui Ne, it is a very safe bet to assume that any foreigner you see is Russian.) One of them stopped me and asked what sounded like 'chupa chup?' This was not something I understood. I stood there blankly trying to decide whether to say that I was not Russian in Russian, and she asked 'how much?' in English. I replied '20' in English but she didn't understand, so I said '20' in Russian. Or I might have said '12'. But in those few minutes I felt very multilingual.

Brittanye met me for lunch and we tried our luck with another Vietnamese restaurant. Because it was Friday and it is now lent, I was careful about my protein selection. I'm used to avoiding beef, pork, and chicken on Fridays during lent, but as I looked at the menu I ran up against a lot of question marks. Where do lizard, snake, turtle, and frog fall on the permissible meat scale? I opted for squid, instead.

I was not interested in paying for crap, either

Our destination for the day was the Fairy Stream. It had been recommended to me, but I knew nothing about it other than the name of the place and a picture I'd seen in my hotel elevator. We arrived at the entry point, hired our local teenage guide, shed our shoes, and stepped into the fairy stream. It was a shallow, sandy bottomed stream. We rounded a bend and we entered something that looked like a miniature model of the southwestern US. Water flowed from some unknown source and it oozed out of the sides of the gully, mixing and carrying the many different colors of sediment. It was a playground of color and texture and it felt great underfoot, too.

Surprise!

baby crabs!

Brittanye and I met her coworker, Hien, for dinner at a seafood place in Phan Thiet. She ordered scrambled eggs with oysters, scallops on the shell, rice crust with a spicy sauce, amazingly delicious shrimp, and fried rice with garlic.

Scrambled eggs, eaten on the crackers in the background

Scallops

Brittanye, Hien, and I

We went back to Mui Ne and got dolled up for a night out. I got to wear the dress I bought when Violet visited and dance the night away.

2.25.12
Saturday morning started with what else but more time on the beach. Later, Brittanye and I lunched at an Italian place with a brick oven pizza. I feasted on the best pizza I've had in six months, one of the best since leaving Italy. Much like my overall Mui Ne experience, it was the perfection I didn't even imagine I could hope to find.

Mushrooms, anchovies, and yum

Our two sights scheduled for the day were the red sand dunes and the white sand dunes. The red ones were closest and consequently our first stop. We rented sleds (aka sheets of plastic) to slide down the dunes, but quickly found that it was easier said than done. By then we had already waved away the children who offered to teach us how for some more 'tip moneys' so I tried to watch them as they helped other tourists and steal their secrets. I figured out that they dug down to the damp sand and sprinkled that over the slide trajectory, but I didn't manage to do so as effectively as they did. You can watch my semi-successful attempt here.

Refueling, Vietnam style

The Vietnam Record Book Center acknowledges that these dunes change
shape the most in Vietnam

We pressed on to the farther, bigger, and more impressive white dunes, another 30 or 40 minutes away. The whole ride was breathtaking, and again I felt like I was somewhere almost familiar. The red sands accompanied for most of the way on one side, while the beach bordered the other side of the road. We were occasionally blocked by herds of cows. Prickly pear cacti dotted the landscape and I even saw a pink house with turquoise trim that looked like it belonged in Georgia O'Keeffe's Southwest. We also passed a large Vietnamese cemetery. In my area tombs are usually on family land, so only a handful dot the landscape at a time. Here, it was a swath of tombs.

Passing the fisherman's harbor

Moooo...ve

When I finally saw the white dunes, I discovered that they are next to a large lake. It was an unexpected element adding to the beauty of the scene. We made it just in time for sunset, as we had more or less planned, and we sat at the crest of a dune to watch the sun sink behind the clouds on the other side of the lake.

I did some wandering and scooted my way down the steep side of a dune to get to the lake below. Surprisingly, most of the people and ATVers left as the sun began to set, and soon the only sounds we could hear were the bugs and the waterfowl. I was overcome with a sense of peacefulness, total contentment, and gratitude. I am always, at least vaguely, appreciative of what an opportunity it is to be living and working here in Vietnam, but standing there on the dunes brought it into sharp relief. There was only one reason I was experiencing that particular moment in that particular spot in creation, and it is because I was fortunate enough to be a Fulbright ETA in Vietnam.

2.26.12
On Sunday morning Brittanye and I hit up the last sight on my list, the Cham towers, three small ruins on a hill between Mui Ne and Phan Thiet.

One of the towers

You could see another, even bigger cemetery from the hill.

We spent the rest of the morning exploring Phan Thiet before it was time for me to catch the bus to Saigon. The bus showed up late but once we got rolling I settled in for the five hour ride and started grading quizzes. I wondered if my high post-trip spirits were inflating the grades I was giving, but I was sure they wouldn't mind. I enjoyed passing fields full of children flying shark-shaped kites, but my enjoyment waned as it became more and more apparent that there was no way I would get back to Saigon in time to catch the last bus to Ben Tre. The ride ended up taking about six hours, and I had to spend the night in Saigon.