Getting ready for some football

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

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

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

Ta-da

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

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

Plate after plate after plate, as usual

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

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

Easter coconut

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” - Woody Allen

It was such an eventful weekend I had to split it into more than one post. In anticipation for my several visitors, I had grand plans of where I would take them to eat, where we would relax, and so on. Of course, I forgot that I was in Vietnam, the country that laughs at your plans even more than God does. Originally, Lam (ETA) and Vincent (non-Fulbright ETA in Tra Vinh with Violet) were supposed to arrive in Ben Tre on Saturday and leave at their convenience on Sunday. On Friday night, in the midst of poring over youtube videos of Nguyễn Hoàng Nam, Vincent informed us that he'd actually be coming with one of his students, Thu, and that his program director and his wife would be coming in from HCMC to join us. Suddenly, instead of having two motorbikes and four people, we'd be juggling seven people on those two motorbikes. But it got worked out.

On Saturday morning, Violet got a message from Vincent informing her that his motorbike was suddenly out of commission, so they'd be late and using Thu's bike. Lam informed me that he'd be arriving at two, give or take a couple of hours. Violet and I got a decently early start and had bun bo hue for breakfast before hitting up the lake stage. The road closures for the festival rerouted everyone onto a usually quiet side street, and I was intrigued but not at all surprised by the clots of sidewalk fruit sellers and the number of vendors that suddenly inhabited previously empty storefronts. There was happening on the stage, but it was open to the public so we clambered around and hoped we wouldn't suddenly plummet into the water of dubious cleanliness.

Dragons frolic among coconut palms

I frolic on a my-size Rach Mieu Bridge

A posse of teens goaded each other into working up the courage to talk to us in English, and one of them finally asked us if we could take a picture of their group. We did so and then, after briefly consulting together, they decided that we were beautiful and they asked if they could get a group picture with us in it. We complied. The next order of business was shopping. Violet and I have both been dreaming of acquiring a Vietnamese-style blazer (colorful or polka-dotted and perhaps adorned with an assortment of buttons and zippers). I'd seen a few shops that looked promising, so Violet drove us there to commence the hunt. Alas, it was a futile search, and I had my dreams crushed by a red and black blazer that was perfect except for the fact that it was about two sizes too small. No success on the blazer front, but we both made other purchases. A tank top for me and a romper for Violet.

At this point, Violet and I were feeling hot and thirsty, so we headed back to campus to get sugarcane juice at a place just outside the gate. Right as we sat down, we saw Vincent, Thu, and Patrick and Jessica (Vincent's program director) arriving at the college. Perfect timing! We ordered four more nuoc mias and did some getting to know each other. It was right around lunch time, so our next stop was my preferred not-quite-upscale restaurant. It's not street food, but it's not nearly as fancy or expensive as restaurants. I ordered the Ben Tre specialty, canh chua (sour soup), fish cooked in fish sauce, and we also got a plate of fried squid. We chowed down with vigor, and Patrick and Jessica declared it the best meal they'd had in Vietnam. Score! 

Seeing as how this is my home turf and all, it was up to me to figure out what everyone should do. There isn't much to see in Ben Tre other than taking a river tour, but that's not even in the city. My main knowledge of Ben Tre is it's food offerings, so despite the fact that we'd all just stuffed ourselves we went to have some milk tea. It was just two blocks away, so it was easy to get to despite our limited vehicles. Since we arrived with two blatant foreigners in tow, the owners closed the doors and turned on the air conditioning for us. We hung out for quite a while, long enough for Lam to meet us around three. We decided to order a plate of fried fertilized quail eggs to perhaps not so gently encourage Patrick and Jessica to give them a try. They acquiesced, content with having tried them, but not eager to have any more. After all of this, Patrick, Jessica, Vincent, and Thu went to the coconut festival while Violet, Lam, and I decompressed and tried to decide where we would all meet up for dinner. Lam wanted to go somewhere where we could grill at our table and have some beers, but I have never been somewhere like that. I texted Mr. Hoang, whom I know to be an avid social drinker, asking him for a recommendation. I should have seen it coming. He was out drinking, and recommended that we join him. 

All of us met at the place that Mr. Hoang recommended, and though we did not sit with him we made sure to visit his table and clink our glasses. Service was slow, and Patrick and Jessica actually had to leave before our main course arrived. The rest of us were going to meet my students, Thy, Nhu, and Di, and go to the coconut festival, and we never ended up getting the roast chicken we ordered. Instead, we dove into the festival traffic. It was more packed than any traffic I have ever been in in Saigon or Hanoi, and I have done some rush hour xe om-ing. We were inching along, and I was getting grazed by passengers on other motorbikes.

Not bumper to bumper, elbow to elbow

The festival was even more crowded than it was on Friday night. Since most of us had seen it already, we didn't spend as much time there. I did, however, get a better look at the coconut handcrafts, and discovered the rather out of place trinket below.

Is Ben Tre exporting coconut crafts to Hawai'i?

The students went home, Vincent and Thu went back to Tra Vinh, and Lam and Violet and I headed back to campus. We ended up staying up and chatting until 4:30am. Sunday morning made it abundantly clear that our bed time was not a well thought out idea.

Lam was supposed to catch a 7am bus back to Ca Mau. Remember when I mentioned God laughing? His alarm didn't go off. Luckily, sort of, mine did. I don't remember hearing it, but some part of my subconscious heard it and I turned it off in my sleep. Violet heard it and woke us up at 715. Lam decided to join us for 730 mass. However, we were three people with one motorbike. Instead of piling on and risking getting pulled over, Lam got a head start on my bike and Violet and I set out on her motorbike soon after. We caught up to him and I tried to push him along with us, as I've seen many Vietnamese youths do for their unmotorized friends. It was not nearly as easy as they make it seem. It should be a straight shot from campus to church, but road closures made us take a pretty wide detour, and we didn't actually make it to church until around eight. We sat, sweated, and bemoaned the fact that we'd had less than three hours of sleep. I was glad we made it to mass, but it certainly wasn't the jubilant Easter Sunday morning I had pictured. We grabbed some food after mass, again, not the sumptuous Ben Tre Easter feast I had envisioned earlier in the week, and then Lam had to rush to catch his backup plan. He biked to the city center and asked a surprisingly smart-mouthed taxi driver into taking him and the bike back to campus, where the bus would pick him up. 

We all reconvened briefly at the college before the bus came for Lam. Violet and I promptly returned to bed and caught an extra three hours of z's before continuing our day. We had pho and then decided to go back to milk tea - for the third day in a row. We'd been there for half an hour when, who should arrive but Nhu and another one of my students. They joined us and ordered a kipu tea for us. It was the first time in a long time that I had to grin and bear it. Whatever the tea itself was, it was mixed with ground up peanut. There are very few situations in which I find peanuts tolerable, and this was definitely not one of those situations. Flavor aside, needing to chew grit in my beverage is not really something I enjoy. The tea also had some sort of jello/flan made from eggs, which was surprisingly the best part of the glass's contents.

Then it was time for Violet to get on the road to Tra Vinh, and for me to join my trusty coconut festival ambassadors once more and visit the third site of the festival. While the scale and popularity of the fair was quite impressive, the Coconut Street next to the river was what really outshone my modest expectations for the whole festival. It was in the same place as the flower market from Tet, but a million times better than just a bunch of people selling (beautiful) potted plant after potted plant. On top of the very wide riverside sidewalk, in twenty days, people installed a rice field, planted coconut palms, made ponds with bridges over them, and more. Not only was it an admirable feat, it was designed with an extremely western-compatible aesthetic. It wasn't campy, glittery, or styrofoamy.

Mini rice field

A fish turning into a dragon, over a coconut inlaid with the contours
of the continents: a symbol for Ben Tre's aspirations

Di, Nhu, and Thy on a monkey bridge

There really are orange coconuts, though they are kind of brownish but they're called red

Yes, believe it or not, under all of that there is normally nothing but a big old riverside sidewalk. Because I am the Foreign Princess of Ben Tre, I was given the royal treatment by my loyal subjects on coconut street. One man I vaguely remember meeting several months ago was working for the festival, and he joined our group (me, the students, and a teacher) and made himself our guide. He showed me a clever mousetrap made out of bamboo, traditionally used to catch a coconut mouse. Naturally, you don't use cheese as bait; you use a sliver of coconut. I tasted what I can only describe as a coconut fruit roll-up, though it is much more traditional and much less artificial than that. We went to a booth where people were making crafts out of palm fronds. It was kind of like Palm Sunday meets balloon animals. Roses, birds, centipedes, fish, dragons, and vuvuzuelas took shape amidst the skillful hands of the people working the booth. One of those people was a former attendee of the English club for teachers, and he immediately presented me with a rose. Then he asked if I wanted to learn how to make one. I got a personal tutorial on how to make a rose (it turned out pretty pathetic) and then how to make a bird (this one turned out pretty good). All the while, a professional photographer was snapping shots.

After exploring all of Coconut Street's offerings, we went to get a drink at a cafe before going home. I found out that the local government spent 2 billion VND (about $1 million) on the coconut festival. I can't say whether it was worth it, but I certainly enjoyed it.

No Super Bowl

2.6.12

I woke up extra early on Monday hoping to be able to stream the Super Bowl at least until I had to go teach, but I had no such luck. It would have been weird watching the Super Bowl at 630am on a Monday, but it would have been better than nothing. I survived. Fortunately, this week of teaching got off to a much better start than last week.

I taught Translation first. Last week’s homework had been for students to write in English and Vietnamese about how they spent a day of Tet. I stressed that since this was a personal account, there should be no reason for anyone to copy anyone else’s sentences. I was very happy when I didn’t have to give a single zero for cheating. Again, we used a few of the assignments for translation warm up at the beginning of class. I’m keeping a list of who reads the Vietnamese and who translates to make sure I get to everyone eventually. Our main activity was song translation. I played Simon and Garfunkel’s “If I Could (El Condor Pasa)” and then read them the lyrics. They worked together as a class to produce the Vietnamese version of the lyrics. When we finished, I handed out the English lyrics and we listened to the song again.

I'd rather be a hammer than a nail

Reading along as we listen to the song

Since Valentine’s Day is next week, I changed their homework a little bit. Instead of writing and translating original texts, they will be translating the lyrics to love songs. It was nice to see my students so excited about something.

Next I taught speaking to my 2nd years. Even though these students are notorious for being passive in class, they are consistently more engaged than my 3rd years, or at least more receptive to my teaching methods that differ from what they’re used to. The lesson was about food and dietary restrictions (being a vegetarian, having food allergies, having religious restrictions on what you can eat, etc.), and we started out by reading a sample menu. I asked them to read over it on their own and then tell me what words they didn’t know so I could explain them to the class. I don’t do this often, mostly because students rarely pipe up about what they don’t know. I had prepared a list of words I thought they might have trouble with that I intended to address in case I didn’t get any questions. However, they pleasantly surprised me by bombarding me with a bunch of words. 

Last week I had the students sign up for conversation groups, so that I can spend time actually talking to each student. I met with the first group last week, and this week I would see two groups. Usually, it takes the first 5 or 10 minutes of basic questions (e.g. what did you do this weekend?) before they loosen up and start asking me questions, too. This week, I had barely sat down when one girl started talking a mile a minute. “I’m so happy to talk to you! I don’t speak English very well but I really want to improve and I know you can help me. This weekend I saw some foreigners on my bus and I wanted to talk to them but I was too shy but I want to be able to talk to foreigners.” It pretty much made my day.

2.7.12
Today my Vietnamese class was replaced with a visit to Trang’s parent’s house to celebrate the death anniversary of her dad’s dad’s dad. (I was informed that in Vietnamese this familial position is ‘cha cha cha’.) As far as I experienced, it was no different than any other occasion for feasting, except that the older kids weren’t there because they were at school. I got to try more of Trang’s mom’s excellent cooking, and her reputation as a master chef is more than intact. One of the new dishes was chicken wings with a fish sauce based glaze. I’m hoping to get the recipe; it was delicious and Trang says it is quite easy to make.

I ate at the women’s table, but after eating I spent a long time talking with Trang’s dad. I found out that the reason he knows ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’ is because he heard that it was LBJ’s favorite song, learned it, and played it for him when he visited Vietnam.

Just a few of the preliminary dishes

Not from today, but I think this picture really captures the awesomeness
of the house

I was totally free until six, when I had to teach the teacher’s English club. They had asked me to make a presentation about how I spent the Tet holiday, and it was Trang’s idea to ask the teachers to do the same. To my surprise, everyone actually prepared something, so we spent the first hour with presentations. After that I explained some differences between Tet and how we celebrate the new year in the US. Then, someone asked me to talk about the differences between eastern and western dragons. It turns out I didn’t know much about eastern dragons, but that meant that I could ask my students a lot of questions. While western dragons breathe fire, are generally destructive, and get killed by knights, eastern dragons spray water, are considered good luck, and don’t get killed. Eastern dragons have the head of the lion and the body of a snake, while western dragons look more like winged dinosaurs.

Dragon descriptions

Close-up of my attempts at drawing dragons

Enter the dragon

Welcome to the year of the dragon! By Vietnamese measure, I am officially 24. Literally since my first day in Ben Tre, I was asked what my Tet plans were. Naturally, I had none. Campus wheels have been turning since then, and I finally get to experience the plans that have been underway since August.

1.20.12
I got back from HCMC in the morning and I was supposed to meet Mr. Luan and his family at 5pm. To be honest, this was the Tet day I'd been most worried about; because Mr. Luan is my supervisor for translations, I associate him with feelings of stress and frustration. However, we got off to a great start. It turns out that when we're one on one and having casual conversation instead of trying to exchange instructions, playing English fill-in-the-blank isn't so bad. I joined him, his wife, his son, and Ms. My (remember her from my early bike riding days?) at the flower market. Everyone thinks the flower market is the most beautiful thing ever and has been talking to me about it for weeks. One street along the river gets overrun by plant vendors selling everything from potted flowers to small flowering trees to pepper plants. It was pretty, but it wasn't as stunning to me as everyone else seems to think it is. We spent most of the time strolling and chatting and exchanging English and Vietnamese names for each plant. They bought me a cotton candy and, I kid you not, after little more than a minute it started melting and crystallizing. Essentially, the extreme humidity in the air was causing it to do what it would normally do in your mouth.

Welcome to the new year's flower market!

Who can spot the flower vendor?

I'm not sure at what point I started feeling unwell, whether it was before the pre-moistened cotton candy or after, but by the time we headed to dinner I was definitely feeling worried. We found a place that sold bánh xèo. I tried to use my sneaky tactic of eating slowly to avoid getting too many refills, but it didn't quite work. At some point, everyone else got full, and it was decided that it was my job to finish what was left. Long before this point, I was already struggling. I was not happy with this decision. Maybe I was too tired to resist, or maybe they were unusually forceful, but I ended up eating way way more than my body was willing to accept. And then we went somewhere else for dessert. I wasn't able to decline ordering dessert, but I did succeed in leaving it unfinished. All of that food ended up making a comeback later that evening. While it was unpleasant, it taught me that I need to be willing to stand firmer when I feel full in the coming days of feasting.

1.21.12
My next Tet stop was Mr. Bao Duy's house. He is the head of the English department. His wife picked me up and when I got to his house I spent a while hanging out with his kids. The whole family speaks English quite well, so socializing was very easy for me. His daughter is 20 and studies accounting at a university HCMC. It turns out that she doesn't really like accounting and is only studying it because she didn't know what to study and her dad recommended it. She's planning on being an accountant, anyway, but what she really likes is journalism, which she is involved in during her free time. His son is still in elementary school but speaks English excellently, though of course somewhat shyly. They have a tiny, adorable, bug-eyed, chihuahua-like puppy that was literally an ankle-biter.

Mr. Bao Duy invited me to photograph him making offerings at his family altar, and then it was time to eat. Very much in contrast with what normally happens, I experienced almost no insistence that I eat more and hardly any food ended up on my plate that I didn't put there myself. I had to wonder if word might have gotten out about the results from the night before. After the meal they saw the impending post-meal-coma in my eyes and offered me a bed to take a nap. Saints! Given that the flower market is pretty much the most exciting thing in all the land right now, I was taken on a second visit before being taken back to my room.

Not all of the courses were out when I took this picture

Flower market again

1.22.12

Have I mentioned that my Vietnamese name is Xuân Mai
(Spring Apricot Blossom)? It is the Tet flower because it
blooms briefly and almost exactlyduring this holiday season.

I woke up at 6am so that Ms. Trang could drop me off at Ms. Hoang's house, and I got in their family car to go to Ms. Hoang's husband's father's house. I should mention, this is the only Vietnamese person I know who owns a car. I didn't have breakfast because I figured we'd be eating soon and a lot. But, I guess 8am is a little early for lunch, even by Vietnamese standards. I was told to sit in the corner but I tried to find ways to be helpful. Ms. Hoang and her son were de-stemming some herbs on the floor and I sat down to help them. I couldn't help but think about the expression, 'the floors are clean enough to eat off of,' and the fact that in Vietnam they're always clean enough to cook and eat off of. I got to slice bread. They set me up for slicing on the floor, but as soon as I lowered myself to the ground everyone laughed as though this were preposterous and insisted that I work at the table.

By the time we finished ferrying five plates worth of each different dish to the three tables, my appetite was saying bring it on. Again, I was pretty much left to my own devices when it came to serving myself, something I was perfectly happy with. I was certainly encouraged to eat more, but in a very non-aggressive way.

One of the tables

I was informed that one of the teachers I used to teach in the FCE class last semester lived nearby, and we were to go visit him. At first I thought he was just going to come get me and take me to his house, which I was not totally comfortable with given the past joking but forward behavior of my male FCE students, but when I realized that Ms. Hoang would be coming too I went along with the plan. The three of us squeezed onto his motorbike. It wasn't as uncomfortable or precarious-feeling as I was expecting, but I was glad he only lived about 1km away. Of course, he plied us with more food. We went on a tour of his garden/massive yard/orchard. Apparently his land extends across the river, but we didn't go so far.

Three on a bike

Mosquitoes the size of penny-sized apricot blossom petals!

When we got back to Ms. Hoang's I was invited to observe a cockfight. Apparently cockfights are a big part of Tet, not so much because of tradition as because people have nothing else to do. It's illegal to bet on the fights, but of course people do it anyway. The winner becomes more expensive and the loser becomes dinner. I have to say, the fight was neither as dramatic nor as depressing as I was expecting. After the first couple of face offs it was clear that there wouldn't really be a winner, just a less loser. The roosters lost their spunk quickly but the fight doesn't end until one dies, so their handlers kept setting them up again and again. The only reason I stuck around until the end was because Ms. Hoang asked me which one I thought would win and I wanted to stay and find out whether I called it right. I did.

Face of when they still felt like it

Their ankles are taped up with a big metal barb curving outward at the back

1.23.12
It was new year's day and I would be spending it at Trang's parents' house. I arrived and was eagerly greeted by cheers and jumping up and down from Trang's oldest brothers' kids. It felt like coming home to family. The morning started with breakfast and the usual calm and surprising conversation with Trang's dad. We all hung out for a while and, throughout the morning, several of his eleven brothers and sisters (whom I did not previously know existed) and their families dropped by. I watched little kids get goaded into delivering new year's wishes to their elders in exchange for envelopes of lucky money. Money aside, I like the tradition of exchanging thoughtful good wishes. To this end, I learned a few lines in Vietnamese to make sure I could greet my hosts properly.

I had been warned that I would have work to do today. Trang's dad's 8th sibling (who is actually the 7th because Trang's dad, the 1st, is for some reason called the 2nd) invited me to his house to wrap Tet cakes. I'm not sure what distinguishes Tet cakes from any other glutinous rice cakes, especially since I saw several varieties of Tet cakes, but I got to help make them marketable. One woman was doing most of the work: she prepped banana leaves, scooped rice onto them, weighed them to make sure it was the right amount, added the log of filling, rolled it like a giant sushi, and tied banana leaves around the whole thing. Then we would re-tie it tighter, but that makes our job sound easier than it was. I watched Trang do it once and then I got to work. The woman finishing up the ones that Trang and I wrapped was astounded at my beautiful handiwork. She kept holding up my finished Tet cakes and waxing about them in Vietnamese for several minutes at a time. I could only understand her praising tone and frequent use of the word for beautiful. One time I tied it so tight that I squeezed some sort of fluid (ew?) out of the log. Apparently that's a good thing, because everyone was impressed.

The setup

Hard at work

Beautiful Tet cake

Slices of Tet cake, filled with green bean paste and pork fat, which you eat
with pork, broth, and eggs.

Working women and 8th Uncle

Now it was time to go back to Trang's parents' house and take a nap. I didn't need telling twice. A few hours later we headed to Trang's sister's house. Some weeks ago, when Trang was telling me about how superstitious people only want people with 'good names' to visit them on new year's day, and are especially particular about the first person who arrives, we had a funny conversation.

• My mother's name is Good.
• It's good? What is it?
• It's Good.
• Yes, what does it mean?
• It's Good, but my husband's name is Better.
• What is it?
• It's Better.

It didn't take too too long for me to figure out, but it was a real life Who's on First moment. Anyway, we had to wait for Trang's husband to get to her sister's house first before we could arrive. Once we got there, it was of course time to eat again. I've been in Vietnam long enough to recognize the spread as the assortment necessary for a build your own spring roll fest. Yum. After happily re-stuffing myself to the gills and drinking some Russian champagne it was time for gambling. Another Tet gambling endeavor is bingo. I played with Trang, her son, her sister, and her mom; her dad was our bookie. It was decided that it was a great time for me to practice Vietnamese, so after the first round I had to be the caller for the rest of the game. I won once, and Trang's sister won every other game. However, my winnings were enough for me to buy a second mat for the last round and break even at the end of the game.

Sping roll ingredients

My winning row

Receiving my winnings

This whole week I've been a little confused. It's the holiday season here, but it isn't a holiday season in my tradition, but it is a holiday season in the life I'm currently leading. In some ways, it has felt more like a holiday season than Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's. I had the friends and family, which was wonderful, but I couldn't really carry out any of my traditions. Now I am lacking the friends and family from home, but it feels good to participate in traditions, even if they are not my own. I'm so immersed in it here that when I talk to people back home I'm taken aback when I am reminded that their life is celebration free, business as usual. Today was particularly nice because I felt like a part of the family and a part of the celebrations. When I was talking to Trang's dad in the morning I was remembering that I was doing the same thing five and a half months ago on my first weekend in Ben Tre. I didn't know these people, and yet they took me into their home. Now, I feel like I've been taken into their family, too.

On the way home, Trang and I started exchanging folktales and fables. She told me one that I found particularly striking and will now share with you.

A young woman came to visit her mother. She was overwhelmed by the difficulties in her life and felt like giving up. Her mother listened to her and then got up without saying anything. She set up three pots of water on the stove. In one, she placed a carrot; in the second, she placed an egg. In the last pot, she put some coffee beans. After the pots boiled for some time she asked her daughter to examine the contents of each pot. The carrot had become soft; the egg, hard. The water containing the coffee had become fragrant and flavorful. The mother said to her daughter, "Some people are like the carrot and let life's difficulties change them from being strong to being weak. Some people are like the egg. They start out gentle and sensitive but become hardened under life's burdens. Some people are like coffee beans: they change the circumstances around them into something better. Which one will you be like?"

Given that it is the new year yet again, I will make one more resolution about life in Vietnam and life in general. I will be a coffee bean.

Mom + Vietnam: Corner of Heaven

Happy thanksgiving!

Originally, my mom and I were going to go on a river tour today. However, at the monthly schedule meeting, Trang decided that we should spend the morning at her parents' house and feast on her mother's bánh xèo. I had been there when I first arrived in Ben Tre, back when my camera wasn't working. A few days ago my mom asked me where was my favorite place in Vietnam, and it was the first thing that came to mind. So, I was more than happy with this change of plans.  

On the way there

We were a five-motorcycle caravan of women, and our first stop was an orchid farm just around the corner from the house. Trang had forgotten about its existence, though it is owned by her favorite cousin. Upon arrival I discovered that my battery was on its last legs, but thankfully it still had enough juice to get me through the whole morning, albeit with slightly more judicious camera use than usual.

A pot of one of these now brightens up my bathroom

I had a Georgia O'Keeffe moment

Naturally, I went looking for spiders, and delighted in my success.

Just around the bend was the muddy unpaved path to her parents' house. We were greeted by a big-screen viewing of my karaoke contest performance.

Cooking was already underway when we arrived, but my mom got to try her hand at making a bánh xèo. Oil, pork, and shrimp went into the wok first. Then the rice flour and coconut milk mixture, then the filling of soy sprouts and cassava. When the thin thin thin 'pancake' (literal translation of bánh) was ready, it was time to fold it over and slide it onto a plate.

This was just the first few of many plates that made their way to the table

 To eat it, we tore off pieces of piping hot bánh xèo, wrapped it in lettuces and herbs, and then dipped it in fish sauce. I remembered that it was incredible, and today's reality did not fail to meet my memory's expectations. My mom dubbed it her favorite Vietnamese dish. We concluded the meal with coconut water and pomelos.

Lastly, my mom convinced Trang's dad to serenade us. He started singing Cuando, Cuando, Cuando, and gradually everyone joined in, even if it was just for the chorus. Then, altogether too early, it was time to go. But I was thankful: thankful for my mom, thankful for the family I was welcomed into, thankful for the company and friendship of my fellow English teachers, thankful for a memorable thanksgiving, thankful for this slice of life that I have been blessed with. Our goodbye was received with a request to come back soon, and that's a request I will be only too happy to fulfill.

The whole group and a great house

We spent the afternoon resting off our big lunch, which, by the way, started around 9am. Later, Trang came by to say goodbye, since she'll be at a conference until after Mom leaves. In the evening, Mom and I paid a visit to Anh Thư, aka Pajama Mamma. She is a spoonful of sugar in my Vietnam experience thus far, and someone for whom I am also very thankful. We had a nice, long, surprisingly fluid chat; and Mom ended up with some new pajamas. Then, we tried to go to bed early before our weekend trip to Hanoi.

But not without meeting a (relatively small) visitor first.