Well, we’re reaching the end of the road in terms of our internships and to be perfectly honest, I feel like something of a failure. Mr. Vinh originally asked for one hundred surveys and we’re sending back only a little over half that request. I know there are plenty of reasonable excuses for why we couldn’t finish by the deadline – I’ve been away every weekend since I got here, the hotels wouldn’t let us survey their guests, etc – but none of them make me feel any better about the end result. I still feel like I let down Mr. Vinh and everyone in Ninh Thuan committed to this project. Yet, the fact remains we’re out of time. I’m going to try to do a little more analysis and hopefully the information we collected will be of help in some small way.
After all this time in Saigon, I finally made it to the Lunch Lady today. The Lunch Lady is a street vendor who has somehow managed to stay local while becoming world famous for producing a different amazing soup each day. As you walk up to her stand, the Lunch Lady greets everyone with an incredibly warm smile from underneath her conical hat. Our Vietnamese is sufficient here since all you do to order is tell her the number of bowls and she ladles them out of a large vat, steaming in a metal pot next to her. The soup was outstanding, swimming with thick slippery noodles, slices of beef, fishballs (balls made of fish, not the other thing), and random herbs (and quite possibly other ingredients that I just missed). The broth was rich with oils and spices, but not too heavy – it was so perfect I didn’t even want to put hot sauce in it for fear that I might alter the essence of the soup. I normally have trouble finishing entire bowls of soup, but I could see the bottom of this bowl.
Since we were already so close to the river, we crossed the bridge and just spent some time walking around a part of town we’d never been to. We walked down a side street so narrow it might have been considered an alley but for its length. It wasn’t the slums, but it was definitely a lower class neighborhood than the ones I’ve seen in the city so far. Stores, beauty parlors, and small eateries lined the street beneath the homes on the floors above. Fruit vendors squatted on the sidewalk, at times forcing us onto the dangerously small road with motorbikes whizzing past. Eventually we came to a small bridge set next to a set of homes made primarily from tin, elevated above the water. At least I’m assuming there was water but I couldn’t actually see it to confirm. There was garbage covering every inch of the water’s surface – plastic bags and styrofoam containers full of rotting food completely consumed the putrid river (no wonder no one can drink the water here). We’d been told about the pollution and trash dumping before, but seeing it to this extent was shocking. It frustrated me to think how hard it would be to clean this mess up, not to mention trying to prevent further pollution here. The people in these rundown homes on the water have no way of getting rid of their trash besides tossing it out the back door – it’s not their fault that the government has insufficient trash collection (and almost non-existent recycling collection). Now this was a decent dose of culture shock.
Later in the afternoon, I engaged in another quality cultural outing. We visited a mosque, which was not a highly decorated touristy one like we’d expected when we saw it in the guidebook, but an average place of worship for the surrounding Muslim community. We took off our shoes and walked up onto a little patio, which is apparently where the women pray while the men enter the slightly closed off room in the middle, where they can kneel before Allah on numerous oriental rugs all overlapping one another. As Molly, Alex, Kendra, and I sat in the female section, a woman dressed in the full traditional muslin outfit (made up of a long black dress and an attached head covering) waved at me from the small room where she was working. She then got up and came to join us on the floor. We sat there for some time trying to communicate through the language barrier. I think all parties involved got something out of it even without understanding everything (she did speak a little English and even without it she taught us the proper Muslim way to pray). Sitting with this woman was quite an experience, but at some point we started running out of things we could reasonably communicate through Charades. We gathered up our shoes and left the green mosque to go to dinner.
For dinner, we treated our Vietnamese roommates to the closest thing to an “American” meal we could think of – burgers and fries at a restaurant called Blackcat. It’s a pretty upscale restaurant with nice décor and random Western music, though we barely fit in the space reserved for us. The menu was really amusing, each burger had a cutesy name related to cats (and two of the smoothies were named the Johnny Depp and the Halle Berry). I for instance got the “bobcat” with barbecue sauce and bacon served on an English muffin of all things (not a bad combination actually). Wen and Ming split a huge burger bigger than my face, so thick that they had to stretch their jaws to what looked like an uncomfortable degree just to eat it. My favorite part of the meal was the drink Kendra and I split that satisfied all of our cravings – it was a chocolate, banana, and peanut butter shake (both of our usual Cookout orders as it turns out) that was to die for. There were mixed reviews from the roommates about the burgers. Some liked it, others flat-out told us they really didn’t like it. Van Anh’s only comment was that the food was really heavy and filling (which makes sense because a burger has so much more meat than most Vietnamese food). I hope she liked it, but either way Blackcat was an interesting experience for all of us.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Vietnam Day 28 (7/5/09)
In the morning, we hopped aboard a river boat. The boat was designed for tourists with colorful dragons on the bow. We were sitting on chairs on a patio-like platform enclosed by windows on all sides. Frankly it didn’t feel like a boat ride at all without wind and seaspray, but it was a nice way to see the river. We passed many traditional wooden fishing boats, as well as many other tourist boats with the same dragons and closed off interiors. On one of the fishing boats, we saw an entire family from grandmother to two-year old taking turns bathing on the deck by dumping buckets of river water over their heads. On the bank, we passed a number of couples having picnics in the park, some too busy kissing to notice us pass. We soon found that the boat tour was a very organized business. It was a family run boat (with a wedding photo of the owners displayed on the back wall), so each family member took turns showing us souvenirs and driving the boat. The patriarch was sure to take the wheel when we came to a checkpoint, a police boat where every vessel had to stop and provide evidence of ownership and a boating license.
Our destination was the Celestial Lady Pagoda, one of the most famous in Vietnam. The first thing you see when you walk up is the large traditional tower, which is only opened a few times a year for special occasions. Around it was a brick courtyard with small elevated stone gazebos containing bells and artistic stone engravings. My favorite was a prayer carved on a stone slab that sat atop a large turtle. The whole pagoda was light and welcoming and would probably have been peaceful were it not for the overwhelming number of tourists (one large group wearing baseball caps with the Vietnamese flag on them) taking pictures in front of everything imaginable. I did find a little peace off to the edge of the courtyard where I found a magnificent view of the Perfume River. Once again, I found myself wondering how the monks who live here cope with all the tourists that come through.
There is a large monastery at this pagoda, including many child monks (both boys and girls) who were either orphaned, sent here by there parents for their education, or came by choice to study Buddhism. We saw a group of children (with distinctive hairstyles in which the whole head is shaved except for a patch in front which is swept off to the side) facing the wall in a long room exposed to the packs of tourists looking in. They were doing a patience exercise in which they were supposed to look at the wall or read and tune out distraction. Most of them were doing very poorly, turning around to talk to each other and play games. I felt bad looking in too long and even worse when people took pictures as if these kids were in a zoo. The older monks didn’t seem as concerned – after all, the more distraction the more meaningful the exercise is. The pagoda was very beautiful but it was also overcrowded and Hue is stifling hot (the locals had almost as much sweat dripping down their faces as I did), so we couldn’t stay all that long.
Back at the hotel, I packed up, took one last look over the high city buildings in the distance contrasted against the tin-roofed houses below me, and waved goodbye to the woman watering her plants on the rooftop garden nextdoor to the hotel. After a little trouble at airport security (Phat’s shampoo was confiscated, which isn’t a big deal but for a while we didn’t know where they had taken him), we boarded the flight back to our home away from home in Saigon. The flight was pretty short but pretty horrible. You know how a certain musical pitch can shatter glass? Well, a specific altitude on a plane can do the same to my eardrums. For almost an hour, I sat furiously chewing gum and faking yawns, trying desperately to equalize my ears which were collapsing under the pressure. I never did quite get them to pop my ears certainly felt better once we’d landed. It was nearly eleven p.m. by the time we reached the guesthouse but no one had eaten dinner yet, so we decided to relive one of our first moments in Vietnam and go back to the place where we had our first pho the night of our arrival. It was still wonderful, but a completely different experience since now I was able to compare it to all the other pho I’ve eaten since that first time – the noodles are smaller and softer (much less firm that the 18 Alley pho) and the broth more oily (which can be excellent for enhancing all the hot sauce I dump in). I was expecting deja vous but instead added another layer of complexity to my perception of pho.
Our destination was the Celestial Lady Pagoda, one of the most famous in Vietnam. The first thing you see when you walk up is the large traditional tower, which is only opened a few times a year for special occasions. Around it was a brick courtyard with small elevated stone gazebos containing bells and artistic stone engravings. My favorite was a prayer carved on a stone slab that sat atop a large turtle. The whole pagoda was light and welcoming and would probably have been peaceful were it not for the overwhelming number of tourists (one large group wearing baseball caps with the Vietnamese flag on them) taking pictures in front of everything imaginable. I did find a little peace off to the edge of the courtyard where I found a magnificent view of the Perfume River. Once again, I found myself wondering how the monks who live here cope with all the tourists that come through.
There is a large monastery at this pagoda, including many child monks (both boys and girls) who were either orphaned, sent here by there parents for their education, or came by choice to study Buddhism. We saw a group of children (with distinctive hairstyles in which the whole head is shaved except for a patch in front which is swept off to the side) facing the wall in a long room exposed to the packs of tourists looking in. They were doing a patience exercise in which they were supposed to look at the wall or read and tune out distraction. Most of them were doing very poorly, turning around to talk to each other and play games. I felt bad looking in too long and even worse when people took pictures as if these kids were in a zoo. The older monks didn’t seem as concerned – after all, the more distraction the more meaningful the exercise is. The pagoda was very beautiful but it was also overcrowded and Hue is stifling hot (the locals had almost as much sweat dripping down their faces as I did), so we couldn’t stay all that long.
Back at the hotel, I packed up, took one last look over the high city buildings in the distance contrasted against the tin-roofed houses below me, and waved goodbye to the woman watering her plants on the rooftop garden nextdoor to the hotel. After a little trouble at airport security (Phat’s shampoo was confiscated, which isn’t a big deal but for a while we didn’t know where they had taken him), we boarded the flight back to our home away from home in Saigon. The flight was pretty short but pretty horrible. You know how a certain musical pitch can shatter glass? Well, a specific altitude on a plane can do the same to my eardrums. For almost an hour, I sat furiously chewing gum and faking yawns, trying desperately to equalize my ears which were collapsing under the pressure. I never did quite get them to pop my ears certainly felt better once we’d landed. It was nearly eleven p.m. by the time we reached the guesthouse but no one had eaten dinner yet, so we decided to relive one of our first moments in Vietnam and go back to the place where we had our first pho the night of our arrival. It was still wonderful, but a completely different experience since now I was able to compare it to all the other pho I’ve eaten since that first time – the noodles are smaller and softer (much less firm that the 18 Alley pho) and the broth more oily (which can be excellent for enhancing all the hot sauce I dump in). I was expecting deja vous but instead added another layer of complexity to my perception of pho.
Vietnam Day 27 (7/4/09)
Happy Fourth of July! The Vietnamese naturally don’t celebrate American Independence Day, so the Duke students decided we should do something patriotic during the day (though I think fireworks could be a flawed plan). We packed up and left the hotel early to make our way to Hue. The bus drove us through a breathtaking mountain pass overlooking the shore and the slow-moving train below. During the ride, we stopped to look out over the beautiful ocean view and, of course, take pictures.
Our next stop was less majestic – a bathroom break at a hotel we passed. I’m getting used to the lack of toilet paper, towels, and soap, but I still wasn’t keen on using a toilet whose broken toilet seat was leaning against a wall. And I have yet to understand why there was a donation box outside the stalls. The other less than amusing bus revelation was that the middle seats some of us had to scrunch into at the beginning of this trip had actually been adjustable all the while, which would have been welcome information during that first long drive – but it’s fine, only our spinal cords suffered.
Our first stop in Hue was the Forbidden City, which is anything but forbidden these days. The emperor only goes there three times a year, but the rest of the year it’s a hotspot for tourists. Most of the complex had been destroyed by the French during the wars, but the remaining buildings still had beautiful architecture. Nevertheless, there have been so many efforts to repair and renovate the buildings that nothing about it feels real when you’re there. The room where we found a baby posed on a plastic model of the emperor’s gold throne was obviously a replica, but it didn’t feel all that different from the real thing, indicating how fake the renovations felt.
For lunch we stopped by the home of Ngoc Son, Emperor Khai Dinh’s sister. Her family still lives there and one descendant has done extensive research on the history of the house and family, some of which he told us as we were touring the water garden. We had eight courses for lunch this time, all of it prepared by the family and all of it phenomenal. We had vegetable soup, pork, rice paper paddies in miniature dishes, and lotus flower sweetsoup. One of the other dishes had tiny hamburgers no bigger than a golfball. I decided to make that my lame excuse for a patriotic meal, and that’s about the extent of my Independence Day celebration for the day.
In the afternoon, we visited the tomb of Emperor Khai Dinh. It was an incredibly intricate stone complex with many levels, each more detailed than the last. One of the first levels was a flat platform with twenty stone soldiers in formation accompanied by their horses and an elephant. Every piece of the structure was a work of art. There were panels on walls with engraved prayers bordered by pats etched out of the stone. The railings to each staircase were in the form of dragons that snaked down the stairs, their heads at the bottom with menacing snarls – their eyes (those that still remain after almost a century) were made from dark green glass, which stood out brilliantly against the dark grey stone that comprised the entire complex. Inside the main building of the tomb itself the walls were painted with so many details it became rococo – I knew each wall panel had an identical design across the room but I could barely tell because there was so much to take in on each one. A gold-plated statue of the emperor on his throne sat before his body, the whole arrangement elevated on a platform above the heads of visitors.
Outside the entryway to the interior of the tomb was a dull red gate, open only a crack. Somehow, the gate seemed to escape the notice of visitors who were busy admiring the architecture, but the red against black stone caught my eye. I poked my head out the gate keeping half of my body inside in case I had to make a quick retreat. At first I saw only grass and trees on the slope of the mountain we were on, but as I looked up the hill, I spotted something else. It was hard to see through the trees, but there was a structure the size of a small house. I didn’t want to trespass, but the gate was open and I couldn’t restrain the urge to go explore. I slipped through the gate and hiked up the little slope, more and more details coming into view as I approached. It became clear it was not a house, but another shrine.
The building was far less elaborate than the tomb I’d just left, but it was made of the same ash-colored stone and had a beautifully detailed roof. It was completely open in front and, while I dared not go completely inside, I could see a simple white stone table as an altar with offerings of candles and flowers sitting on it. Others had clearly been their in a less respectful manner as I saw graffiti on the walls inside, some messages written in Vietnamese, others pictures (including one of Ho Chi Minh). A few paces in front of the building was stone slab standing waist-high with engravings on the front and recently burned incense in a small sand pit behind. I still have no idea what this space was honoring, but being here made me feel still and meditative. Only the fear of being left behind by my group motivated me to go back down the hill and through the gate, but I left with a unique and personal experience.
Back on the bus, our guide picked up his microphone (again, ugh) and gave us his usual mix of interesting and questionable information. He had attended Cornell University so I’m sure he’d been around Americans often enough, but I feel as though he may not have picked up on what westerners find appropriate. I sat here dumbfounded as this Western-educated man claimed that an affinity for colorful clothing makes the last emperor “a gay.” I must admit, I judged him for a moment but I realized it’s just a cultural difference about accepted behavior of men and women – my judgment was nothing more than western elitism and hypocrisy, so I pulled myself back into a place of cultural understanding.
The next tomb we went to, that of Emperor Tu Duc, was completely different from the last. Where the previous tomb had a hard powerful appearance, this was peaceful and serene. There was a lot more land to this one with lots of lily ponds, gazebos, trees, and nice little dirt walking paths going all the way around the property. I discovered the reason there was so much space for just one man’s tomb is that, after an emperor died, his fifty or so wives were unmarriable and had to live out the rest of their lives at the tomb. It’s a cruel fate even in so nice a place as this. This information gives the walls spotted with giant, impenetrable red doors a much different feel. I started out going around with the tour guide’s group, but sometimes I get frustrated with tours where someone is always telling you where to look and what to think – I always feel like I’m missing out on part of the experience.
Instead, I broke off on my own to explore the back areas of the compound where there were no people. Along the trail were small spaces that appeared to be shrines of some kind. Each had a small set of stairs leading up to a stone courtyard with a focal point in the center. The first was a large stone tablet one-story high with engravings that presumably spelled out a Buddhist prayer. The next courtyard looked even more ancient with darker, more worn stone. At the head of the space was a smaller tablet only as high as my head with an intricate stone and porcelain mosaic in the form of a colorful dragon. Behind it was a square-shaped space walled off except on one side. Inside that area was another wall, identical but smaller, almost like a small box set inside another except that neither box contained anything. I walked all the way through the stone corridors between the walls then entered the space sectioned off by the interior wall but neither contained anything to report – no art, no altars, nothing. It felt like walking through a maze but with no end goal – I still have no idea what it could have possibly been used for. Eventually I made my way all the way around the compound, eventually ending up back at the lily pond (which might be more accurately referred to as a lake). I can’t say which of the two tombs I enjoyed the most because they were too different to compare, but in both cases the points where I ventured off on my own are the most vivid in my memory.
After dinner (which consisted primarily of me stuffing my face with tiny crispy egg rolls) we went over to the bridge. It’s a large modern bridge with a sidewalk on one side of the road for pedestrians. Here we stopped and hung out like all the locals around us. The bridge was equipped with spotlights that changed color every minute, reflecting off the white painted steel of the bridge. This provided a wonderful backdrop for our impromptu photoshoot (which was appropriately epic). On the other side of the bridge we stopped for sweetsoup. During my time in Vietnam thus far, I’ve had three sweetsoups and none of them bore any resemblance to the others. The first in Ninh Thuan was a drink made of cold sweet liquid with pieces of gelatin thrown in, the second in Hoi An was a thick custard made of corn, and this was more like a smoothie with whole chunks of banana in the mix. Apparently there are more varieties of sweetsoup than any of the Vietnamese roommates can describe, so it appears I’ve only just scratched the surface on this desert.
To get back to the hotel, someone suggested taking cyclos, which is a type of rickshaw where someone pedals a bike set behind a larger seat for the passengers. Frankly, the concept of a rickshaw has always bothered me to some extent. I know I’m giving someone business, but at the same time it conjures up images of royalty being carried around on the shoulders of slaves and I’m no princess. I have two good feet, I can do my own walking and pedaling.
Our next stop was less majestic – a bathroom break at a hotel we passed. I’m getting used to the lack of toilet paper, towels, and soap, but I still wasn’t keen on using a toilet whose broken toilet seat was leaning against a wall. And I have yet to understand why there was a donation box outside the stalls. The other less than amusing bus revelation was that the middle seats some of us had to scrunch into at the beginning of this trip had actually been adjustable all the while, which would have been welcome information during that first long drive – but it’s fine, only our spinal cords suffered.
Our first stop in Hue was the Forbidden City, which is anything but forbidden these days. The emperor only goes there three times a year, but the rest of the year it’s a hotspot for tourists. Most of the complex had been destroyed by the French during the wars, but the remaining buildings still had beautiful architecture. Nevertheless, there have been so many efforts to repair and renovate the buildings that nothing about it feels real when you’re there. The room where we found a baby posed on a plastic model of the emperor’s gold throne was obviously a replica, but it didn’t feel all that different from the real thing, indicating how fake the renovations felt.
For lunch we stopped by the home of Ngoc Son, Emperor Khai Dinh’s sister. Her family still lives there and one descendant has done extensive research on the history of the house and family, some of which he told us as we were touring the water garden. We had eight courses for lunch this time, all of it prepared by the family and all of it phenomenal. We had vegetable soup, pork, rice paper paddies in miniature dishes, and lotus flower sweetsoup. One of the other dishes had tiny hamburgers no bigger than a golfball. I decided to make that my lame excuse for a patriotic meal, and that’s about the extent of my Independence Day celebration for the day.
In the afternoon, we visited the tomb of Emperor Khai Dinh. It was an incredibly intricate stone complex with many levels, each more detailed than the last. One of the first levels was a flat platform with twenty stone soldiers in formation accompanied by their horses and an elephant. Every piece of the structure was a work of art. There were panels on walls with engraved prayers bordered by pats etched out of the stone. The railings to each staircase were in the form of dragons that snaked down the stairs, their heads at the bottom with menacing snarls – their eyes (those that still remain after almost a century) were made from dark green glass, which stood out brilliantly against the dark grey stone that comprised the entire complex. Inside the main building of the tomb itself the walls were painted with so many details it became rococo – I knew each wall panel had an identical design across the room but I could barely tell because there was so much to take in on each one. A gold-plated statue of the emperor on his throne sat before his body, the whole arrangement elevated on a platform above the heads of visitors.
Outside the entryway to the interior of the tomb was a dull red gate, open only a crack. Somehow, the gate seemed to escape the notice of visitors who were busy admiring the architecture, but the red against black stone caught my eye. I poked my head out the gate keeping half of my body inside in case I had to make a quick retreat. At first I saw only grass and trees on the slope of the mountain we were on, but as I looked up the hill, I spotted something else. It was hard to see through the trees, but there was a structure the size of a small house. I didn’t want to trespass, but the gate was open and I couldn’t restrain the urge to go explore. I slipped through the gate and hiked up the little slope, more and more details coming into view as I approached. It became clear it was not a house, but another shrine.
The building was far less elaborate than the tomb I’d just left, but it was made of the same ash-colored stone and had a beautifully detailed roof. It was completely open in front and, while I dared not go completely inside, I could see a simple white stone table as an altar with offerings of candles and flowers sitting on it. Others had clearly been their in a less respectful manner as I saw graffiti on the walls inside, some messages written in Vietnamese, others pictures (including one of Ho Chi Minh). A few paces in front of the building was stone slab standing waist-high with engravings on the front and recently burned incense in a small sand pit behind. I still have no idea what this space was honoring, but being here made me feel still and meditative. Only the fear of being left behind by my group motivated me to go back down the hill and through the gate, but I left with a unique and personal experience.
Back on the bus, our guide picked up his microphone (again, ugh) and gave us his usual mix of interesting and questionable information. He had attended Cornell University so I’m sure he’d been around Americans often enough, but I feel as though he may not have picked up on what westerners find appropriate. I sat here dumbfounded as this Western-educated man claimed that an affinity for colorful clothing makes the last emperor “a gay.” I must admit, I judged him for a moment but I realized it’s just a cultural difference about accepted behavior of men and women – my judgment was nothing more than western elitism and hypocrisy, so I pulled myself back into a place of cultural understanding.
The next tomb we went to, that of Emperor Tu Duc, was completely different from the last. Where the previous tomb had a hard powerful appearance, this was peaceful and serene. There was a lot more land to this one with lots of lily ponds, gazebos, trees, and nice little dirt walking paths going all the way around the property. I discovered the reason there was so much space for just one man’s tomb is that, after an emperor died, his fifty or so wives were unmarriable and had to live out the rest of their lives at the tomb. It’s a cruel fate even in so nice a place as this. This information gives the walls spotted with giant, impenetrable red doors a much different feel. I started out going around with the tour guide’s group, but sometimes I get frustrated with tours where someone is always telling you where to look and what to think – I always feel like I’m missing out on part of the experience.
Instead, I broke off on my own to explore the back areas of the compound where there were no people. Along the trail were small spaces that appeared to be shrines of some kind. Each had a small set of stairs leading up to a stone courtyard with a focal point in the center. The first was a large stone tablet one-story high with engravings that presumably spelled out a Buddhist prayer. The next courtyard looked even more ancient with darker, more worn stone. At the head of the space was a smaller tablet only as high as my head with an intricate stone and porcelain mosaic in the form of a colorful dragon. Behind it was a square-shaped space walled off except on one side. Inside that area was another wall, identical but smaller, almost like a small box set inside another except that neither box contained anything. I walked all the way through the stone corridors between the walls then entered the space sectioned off by the interior wall but neither contained anything to report – no art, no altars, nothing. It felt like walking through a maze but with no end goal – I still have no idea what it could have possibly been used for. Eventually I made my way all the way around the compound, eventually ending up back at the lily pond (which might be more accurately referred to as a lake). I can’t say which of the two tombs I enjoyed the most because they were too different to compare, but in both cases the points where I ventured off on my own are the most vivid in my memory.
After dinner (which consisted primarily of me stuffing my face with tiny crispy egg rolls) we went over to the bridge. It’s a large modern bridge with a sidewalk on one side of the road for pedestrians. Here we stopped and hung out like all the locals around us. The bridge was equipped with spotlights that changed color every minute, reflecting off the white painted steel of the bridge. This provided a wonderful backdrop for our impromptu photoshoot (which was appropriately epic). On the other side of the bridge we stopped for sweetsoup. During my time in Vietnam thus far, I’ve had three sweetsoups and none of them bore any resemblance to the others. The first in Ninh Thuan was a drink made of cold sweet liquid with pieces of gelatin thrown in, the second in Hoi An was a thick custard made of corn, and this was more like a smoothie with whole chunks of banana in the mix. Apparently there are more varieties of sweetsoup than any of the Vietnamese roommates can describe, so it appears I’ve only just scratched the surface on this desert.
To get back to the hotel, someone suggested taking cyclos, which is a type of rickshaw where someone pedals a bike set behind a larger seat for the passengers. Frankly, the concept of a rickshaw has always bothered me to some extent. I know I’m giving someone business, but at the same time it conjures up images of royalty being carried around on the shoulders of slaves and I’m no princess. I have two good feet, I can do my own walking and pedaling.
Vietnam Day 26 (7/3/09)
After a complimentary breakfast that was neither entirely Vietnamese nor entirely Western (it was a buffet with odd choices ranging from eggrolls to spaghetti), we left the hotel for the My Son Mountain. A hike up this mountain brings you to the ruins of the Cham people, a complex of brick structures made completely without mortar (archeologists still don’t know how). The structures are incredible, though I can’t say I had the most mature reaction when I saw the large phallic statue that was once placed atop the temple to improve the emperor’s virility. The mountains were crawling with tourists, snapping pictures in front of everything (not that we were doing any different), some even wearing heels and traveling in packs hidden under umbrellas.
Back in town, we sat down to lunch near the river at a restaurant serving food similar to what we ate last night. At this restaurant however, the service was painfully slow. In the epically long stretches between courses, we all complained about how much time we were wasting waiting for food. I must admit, I chimed in during these conversations too, but when I sat back and thought about it, I decided it was a good thing. We’re always so crunched for time that we rush through our days, never stopping long enough to really appreciate the character of whatever town we’re in. I felt really bad for having whined, but at least we weren’t as bad as the shameful Westerners one table over eating pizza, burgers, and fries (that’s all the other Westerners eat here).
I devoted the rest of the afternoon to shopping. A group of us started in an open-air market, where the vendors had two very different styles of attracting customers. Some were nicer than those in Saigon, not bothering passersby, but sitting patiently and only looking up if someone stopped at their stall (part of why it’s so rude in this region to browse unless you’re committed to buying from that stand). The alternative strategy was demonstrated by three saleswomen who actually left their booths to follow us down the entire length of the market, calling to us the whole way. Despite this annoyance, we had a rather successful shopping trip, though I know for a fact we got ripped off in a couple of cases. One of my purchases didn’t work out so well unfortunately. Since I lost my rings at rollerskating, I got a new amber-colored glass ring. Within an hour of buying it, it dropped and, being glass, broke into three pieces – some higher power doesn’t want me to wear rings in this country.
After a simple but delicious dinner of chicken and rice, some of the group rented bicycles to tour the town. Kendra, Molly, and I were uneasy about the bikes though because it was nighttime in a new city and half the roads had been turned into lakes by the rain. Riding around in that just didn’t sound like fun. What we weren’t told was that the bike people were actually going to the beach which we were sad to miss. However, we made our own fun exploring different side-streets in town. We even found a nice jewelry store that was shockingly different from the dozens of others on the main drag. I got a lovely black pearl necklace, which I think is ample compensation for missing a difficult highway ride to a beach that turned out to be dumpy anyway.
Back in town, we sat down to lunch near the river at a restaurant serving food similar to what we ate last night. At this restaurant however, the service was painfully slow. In the epically long stretches between courses, we all complained about how much time we were wasting waiting for food. I must admit, I chimed in during these conversations too, but when I sat back and thought about it, I decided it was a good thing. We’re always so crunched for time that we rush through our days, never stopping long enough to really appreciate the character of whatever town we’re in. I felt really bad for having whined, but at least we weren’t as bad as the shameful Westerners one table over eating pizza, burgers, and fries (that’s all the other Westerners eat here).
I devoted the rest of the afternoon to shopping. A group of us started in an open-air market, where the vendors had two very different styles of attracting customers. Some were nicer than those in Saigon, not bothering passersby, but sitting patiently and only looking up if someone stopped at their stall (part of why it’s so rude in this region to browse unless you’re committed to buying from that stand). The alternative strategy was demonstrated by three saleswomen who actually left their booths to follow us down the entire length of the market, calling to us the whole way. Despite this annoyance, we had a rather successful shopping trip, though I know for a fact we got ripped off in a couple of cases. One of my purchases didn’t work out so well unfortunately. Since I lost my rings at rollerskating, I got a new amber-colored glass ring. Within an hour of buying it, it dropped and, being glass, broke into three pieces – some higher power doesn’t want me to wear rings in this country.
After a simple but delicious dinner of chicken and rice, some of the group rented bicycles to tour the town. Kendra, Molly, and I were uneasy about the bikes though because it was nighttime in a new city and half the roads had been turned into lakes by the rain. Riding around in that just didn’t sound like fun. What we weren’t told was that the bike people were actually going to the beach which we were sad to miss. However, we made our own fun exploring different side-streets in town. We even found a nice jewelry store that was shockingly different from the dozens of others on the main drag. I got a lovely black pearl necklace, which I think is ample compensation for missing a difficult highway ride to a beach that turned out to be dumpy anyway.
Vietnam Day 25 (7/2/09)
After two and a half blissful hours of sleep, I hauled myself out of bed and over to the airport. The lines in the airport were ridiculous. The ticketing and security processes themselves were painless, but the lines waiting to get to those points took almost two hours. By the time we got to the gate people had already started boarding. All that matters is that we made the flight (My’s and Phat’s first, which is always exciting). During the hour flight, we flew over plains and mountains so untouched I knew I had to be back in central Vietnam. We met our guide at the tiny Qui Non Airport and boarded an even tinier bus to go to Son My.
Kendra, Wen, and I ended up on tiny seats that folded out into the aisles and offered absolutely no back support so we had a very uncomfortable three to four hour bus ride (unclear exactly how long it took because the guide gave so many fifteen-minute warnings that I lost track). The view on the other hand was amazing the whole way. We passed all sorts of fields, towns, and mountains, all insanely beautiful (with the exception of the men relieving themselves on the side of the road or, as our guide put it, doing the bush dance). More than one of the Vietnamese roommates told us that this was the “real Vietnam.” With farmers comprising nearly eighty percent of the population, I suppose they’re right.
At last we arrived at Son My, the site of what is referred to by Americans as the My Lai Massacre. This is the site where one mentally-unbalanced U.S. commander led his platoon to brutally murder almost an entire village of peaceful people living in Son My. The pictures of the aftermath were disturbing and devastating to look at. Everywhere, images of young and old killed in the most horrible ways and left in unforgivably disrespectful conditions and positions. There were also pictures of the American soldiers who tried to stop the killing, as well as of the photographer who exposed this monstrosity to the world. I admire the Vietnamese for calling any Americans “heroes” after what they lost here. There was large stone slate with engravings of all the names and ages of victims – far too many of the ages were in single digits.
We passed the large statue built as a memorial, with incense burning at its base, and walked out onto the grounds where the genocide occurred. We saw the foundations left behind when the misguided American soldiers burned down the houses as they left. One of the survivors, a small woman of about eighty, paused from her work picking vegetables to talk to us. She told us the story of how she survived by lying in the river pretending to be dead until the soldiers looked away and she fled with her young daughter. As her eyes welled up with tears, I felt mine do the same. She didn’t need to speak English for me to see the pain in her eyes. I couldn’t speak for some time after we left. I knew if I opened my mouth I would start screaming and weeping. It wasn’t as if I felt guilt because Americans were involved, I was just mortified to see further proof of mankind’s ability to hate and destroy.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
In the afternoon we checked into our hotel which turned out to be a resort complete with all the amenities – a luxurious pool, riverside views, and even a bathtub-shower combo with a real shower curtain. After a delicious four course dinner, we walked around town looking at the shops. The streets were dominated by tailor shops since Hoi Anh is famous for its speedy tailors. Some of the girls were thinking about having something made but I was so overwhelmed by the number of shops to choose from that I gave up on that notion. The other shops were overwhelming as well. They did have really beautiful things like lacquerwear, jewelry, and lanterns, but as we went further down the street every shop started to look exactly the same and all of the beautiful things inside just started to feel mass-produced (which, don’t get me wrong, didn’t stop me from buying a few things here and there).
At the end of the road was a Japanese-inspired bridge that would have been a beautiful scenic photo shoot opportunity were it not for the slums on the other side and the putrid smell coming from the trash-infested water flowing underneath. Before going back we stopped at a street-side cart to have sweetsoup. Unlike the gelatinous drink I had in Ninh Thuan, this version of sweetsoup was a warm corn pudding, which I liked a lot better – in fact, I loved it. Above us and scattered around town was a mixture of traditional colored lanterns and others with the flags and names of different countries of the world printed on them – there seemed to be one for every single country from Colombia to Slovenia. For some reason, I’m finding traffic here more problematic than in Saigon. I suppose it’s possible the drivers here aren’t as skilled as smoothly avoiding people or perhaps the reduced number of vehicles is lulling me into a false sense of security so I’m more easily surprised by them – either way, I haven’t been able to cross the street with the same ease as in the city. Maybe I’m just disoriented from visiting too many touristy shops.
Kendra, Wen, and I ended up on tiny seats that folded out into the aisles and offered absolutely no back support so we had a very uncomfortable three to four hour bus ride (unclear exactly how long it took because the guide gave so many fifteen-minute warnings that I lost track). The view on the other hand was amazing the whole way. We passed all sorts of fields, towns, and mountains, all insanely beautiful (with the exception of the men relieving themselves on the side of the road or, as our guide put it, doing the bush dance). More than one of the Vietnamese roommates told us that this was the “real Vietnam.” With farmers comprising nearly eighty percent of the population, I suppose they’re right.
At last we arrived at Son My, the site of what is referred to by Americans as the My Lai Massacre. This is the site where one mentally-unbalanced U.S. commander led his platoon to brutally murder almost an entire village of peaceful people living in Son My. The pictures of the aftermath were disturbing and devastating to look at. Everywhere, images of young and old killed in the most horrible ways and left in unforgivably disrespectful conditions and positions. There were also pictures of the American soldiers who tried to stop the killing, as well as of the photographer who exposed this monstrosity to the world. I admire the Vietnamese for calling any Americans “heroes” after what they lost here. There was large stone slate with engravings of all the names and ages of victims – far too many of the ages were in single digits.
We passed the large statue built as a memorial, with incense burning at its base, and walked out onto the grounds where the genocide occurred. We saw the foundations left behind when the misguided American soldiers burned down the houses as they left. One of the survivors, a small woman of about eighty, paused from her work picking vegetables to talk to us. She told us the story of how she survived by lying in the river pretending to be dead until the soldiers looked away and she fled with her young daughter. As her eyes welled up with tears, I felt mine do the same. She didn’t need to speak English for me to see the pain in her eyes. I couldn’t speak for some time after we left. I knew if I opened my mouth I would start screaming and weeping. It wasn’t as if I felt guilt because Americans were involved, I was just mortified to see further proof of mankind’s ability to hate and destroy.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
In the afternoon we checked into our hotel which turned out to be a resort complete with all the amenities – a luxurious pool, riverside views, and even a bathtub-shower combo with a real shower curtain. After a delicious four course dinner, we walked around town looking at the shops. The streets were dominated by tailor shops since Hoi Anh is famous for its speedy tailors. Some of the girls were thinking about having something made but I was so overwhelmed by the number of shops to choose from that I gave up on that notion. The other shops were overwhelming as well. They did have really beautiful things like lacquerwear, jewelry, and lanterns, but as we went further down the street every shop started to look exactly the same and all of the beautiful things inside just started to feel mass-produced (which, don’t get me wrong, didn’t stop me from buying a few things here and there).
At the end of the road was a Japanese-inspired bridge that would have been a beautiful scenic photo shoot opportunity were it not for the slums on the other side and the putrid smell coming from the trash-infested water flowing underneath. Before going back we stopped at a street-side cart to have sweetsoup. Unlike the gelatinous drink I had in Ninh Thuan, this version of sweetsoup was a warm corn pudding, which I liked a lot better – in fact, I loved it. Above us and scattered around town was a mixture of traditional colored lanterns and others with the flags and names of different countries of the world printed on them – there seemed to be one for every single country from Colombia to Slovenia. For some reason, I’m finding traffic here more problematic than in Saigon. I suppose it’s possible the drivers here aren’t as skilled as smoothly avoiding people or perhaps the reduced number of vehicles is lulling me into a false sense of security so I’m more easily surprised by them – either way, I haven’t been able to cross the street with the same ease as in the city. Maybe I’m just disoriented from visiting too many touristy shops.
Vietnam Day 24 (7/1/09)
My stomach was still off, but I decided to try easing myself back into a normal diet by eating solid but bland foods. It was nice to have real food again, but it devastated me not to use hot sauce. We’ll be visiting the central region during the next four days and since Kendra’s and Khang’s birthdays occur during that span of time, we decided to celebrate early and throw them a surprise party. Van Anh and Hanh are experts at planning a party – they got lots of decorations and even cut out party hats and used colored paper to make cute faces on them. They got balloons, which would normally seem like a natural addition to a birthday party except that they accidentally got water balloons. People were turning purple trying to blow them all up, but they managed and soon the walls were covered with little squash-shaped balloons.
Alex, Van, and I went to Ben Thanh Market to buy a present for Kendra (earrings of course). We got there just five minutes before closing, but we’re expert shoppers and found some nice ones and haggled down the price (though we probably still got ripped off) all before the stalls shut down. It was raining and we needed to get back in time for the party so we grabbed the first cab we could, even though we knew we were taking a risk since we didn’t know the cab company. I thought we might get ripped off but this was ridiculous. The driver claimed the meter was going up so high because traffic slowed us down, but I’ve taken cabs to and from Ben Thanh often enough to know he was taking us a roundabout way. I’m convinced there’s a button on the steering wheel that lets the driver change the meter at will. By the time we made the decision to bail out and walk the rest of the way, we were nearly at the guesthouse, but it was the principle of the thing – I wasn’t going to pay that driver a cent more. We crossed the crazy street to the guest house feeling used.
The surprise party went wonderfully despite a few close calls and planning snafus (the party wasn’t actually ready three different times they called us over, so I had to keep distracting Kendra for nearly an hour). The major epiphany of the night was that birthday cake is the ideal chopstick food. It’s easily cut into perfect bite-sized pieces by pinching it with the chopsticks. I think I’m going to start a new tradition when I get back to the U.S. – everyone who wants to eat my birthday cake has to use chopsticks (which means I’ll have to teach Mom pretty soon after I get back). After the party, we packed our things and tried to get whatever sleep we could, a more difficult task in my case since there were two extra people sleeping in the beds we’d pushed together (Hanh because her room reeked of birthday cake and dried squid from the party and Hieu just because he loves us), but I had to try because we were leaving for the airport at the inhumane hour of 4:30 a.m.
Alex, Van, and I went to Ben Thanh Market to buy a present for Kendra (earrings of course). We got there just five minutes before closing, but we’re expert shoppers and found some nice ones and haggled down the price (though we probably still got ripped off) all before the stalls shut down. It was raining and we needed to get back in time for the party so we grabbed the first cab we could, even though we knew we were taking a risk since we didn’t know the cab company. I thought we might get ripped off but this was ridiculous. The driver claimed the meter was going up so high because traffic slowed us down, but I’ve taken cabs to and from Ben Thanh often enough to know he was taking us a roundabout way. I’m convinced there’s a button on the steering wheel that lets the driver change the meter at will. By the time we made the decision to bail out and walk the rest of the way, we were nearly at the guesthouse, but it was the principle of the thing – I wasn’t going to pay that driver a cent more. We crossed the crazy street to the guest house feeling used.
The surprise party went wonderfully despite a few close calls and planning snafus (the party wasn’t actually ready three different times they called us over, so I had to keep distracting Kendra for nearly an hour). The major epiphany of the night was that birthday cake is the ideal chopstick food. It’s easily cut into perfect bite-sized pieces by pinching it with the chopsticks. I think I’m going to start a new tradition when I get back to the U.S. – everyone who wants to eat my birthday cake has to use chopsticks (which means I’ll have to teach Mom pretty soon after I get back). After the party, we packed our things and tried to get whatever sleep we could, a more difficult task in my case since there were two extra people sleeping in the beds we’d pushed together (Hanh because her room reeked of birthday cake and dried squid from the party and Hieu just because he loves us), but I had to try because we were leaving for the airport at the inhumane hour of 4:30 a.m.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Vietnam Day 23 (6/30/09)
My stomach bug kept me in bed all morning. I certainly wasn't feeling good but I guess you could say I was doing better than last night. Van Anh brought me porridge to get some food in me (a very Asian remedy to illness and a welcome one at that moment). Everyone kept coming by to check on me during the day, which was really touching (and relieved some of the boredom that comes with laying in bed all day). I slept almost the entire day away, which is really unfortunately given how few days I have in Vietnam.
In the evening, I felt well enough to go to our weekly discussion with Rylan. It might have been better for me to just stay in bed since I didn't get as much out of this talk. We were discussing sex and perceptions of virginity in our respective countries. It was really uncomfortable and no one wanted to give a very strong opinion at the risk of insulting someone else. Maybe in a smaller group it would have been better, but with sixteen of us sitting in a circle in silence it was just awkward. Near the end of the time we got down to business. We were splitting into groups and picking leaders for the three different projects we'll be working on in Ben Tre - building latrines, fixing a school, and building a playground. Rylan immediately declared me leader of the latrine project since it falls in with my environmental work, which is fine by me since that's the project I wanted anyway. My co-leader is Van Anh (roommie power) and our only but very enthusiastic follower is Hieu. We were discussing some less blunt ways to refer to our project, but eventually decided to embrace the term "toilet." In fact, we're planning on having "team toilet" t-shirts made. I'm really excited about my project - something about having a shovel in your hand really makes you feel like you're doing something significant. [By the way, I should mention that we're building the foundation for a toilet so it's not a smelly job or anything and it'll really do some good because the current bathrooms deposit tons of human waste into the already filthy rivers.]
We went out for dinner afterward, but since it was so late the restaurant had pretty much run out of everything except porridge. Since porridge was all I'd eaten all day, I wasn't really feeling it, though other people seemed to enjoy it a lot. Instead I scored one of the last bowls of special wet noodles with pork, my equivalent of American chicken noodle soup. It was pretty good but it couldn't heal my stomach entirely and I went to sleep still feeling pretty out of it.
In the evening, I felt well enough to go to our weekly discussion with Rylan. It might have been better for me to just stay in bed since I didn't get as much out of this talk. We were discussing sex and perceptions of virginity in our respective countries. It was really uncomfortable and no one wanted to give a very strong opinion at the risk of insulting someone else. Maybe in a smaller group it would have been better, but with sixteen of us sitting in a circle in silence it was just awkward. Near the end of the time we got down to business. We were splitting into groups and picking leaders for the three different projects we'll be working on in Ben Tre - building latrines, fixing a school, and building a playground. Rylan immediately declared me leader of the latrine project since it falls in with my environmental work, which is fine by me since that's the project I wanted anyway. My co-leader is Van Anh (roommie power) and our only but very enthusiastic follower is Hieu. We were discussing some less blunt ways to refer to our project, but eventually decided to embrace the term "toilet." In fact, we're planning on having "team toilet" t-shirts made. I'm really excited about my project - something about having a shovel in your hand really makes you feel like you're doing something significant. [By the way, I should mention that we're building the foundation for a toilet so it's not a smelly job or anything and it'll really do some good because the current bathrooms deposit tons of human waste into the already filthy rivers.]
We went out for dinner afterward, but since it was so late the restaurant had pretty much run out of everything except porridge. Since porridge was all I'd eaten all day, I wasn't really feeling it, though other people seemed to enjoy it a lot. Instead I scored one of the last bowls of special wet noodles with pork, my equivalent of American chicken noodle soup. It was pretty good but it couldn't heal my stomach entirely and I went to sleep still feeling pretty out of it.
Vietnam Day 22 (2/29/09)
My room was like grand central station this morning. Before my alarm even went off, I’d received three calls and two texts. I’d given my number to one of the girls from skating last night and she wanted to invite me out again, and I think to practice her English. I might try to go again but I think it would be better to try on beginner’s night.
I wasn’t feeling too well today. I don’t know if it was the yogurt I ate last night or the crushed ice in all of my drinks in Cu Chi but I was a little queasy the whole day. It wasn’t a big deal though because I had a lax schedule today. We’ve been unable to get any of the hotels to let us interview the guests, so Van Anh and I are spending the day analyzing the data we have so far. After we finished, some of us went to a kooky t-shirt shop that Hieu recommended. A few of the shirts were normal but most of them were too crazy for me to pull off, many of them punk and others with vulgar messages on them. It felt as though they were trying to copy western styles but got a little too outlandish with them. Hieu pulls this kind of clothing off like a pro but I don’t think it would work as well in the U.S.
We walked out of the store and realized we were in a much less touristy part of town. I’m sure it was still pretty safe, but we were the only foreigners around so we held onto our bags a little tighter. Still, we were curious so we wandered around for a bit. The most fascinating thing we found was a church with architecture like a pagoda (in fact we thought it was a pagoda until we got a little closer and saw the crosses on top). It just goes to show, there are interesting things everywhere, even on the “wrong side of town.”
When we got back, the others had just gotten back from going to dinner without us so we gave them a hard time and went out for banh mi. The four DukeEngage girls ate ours at the cafe and tried fresh coconut milk (for the first time in my case). It comes in the coconut itself, which is shaved and has the top cut off so you can stick a straw in it. It surprised me how little it tasted like coconut. I guess I’ve always just had dry coconut, but this was like sweet water and very good (again a surprise because I don’t like coconut the way I know it). After dinner and a desert of heavenly banana pancake (made like a crepe with big chunks of banana in it and chocolate sauce on the side) I started getting sick. I don’t think it was from anything I just ate – I’d been feeling sick all day and it was finally coming up. My money’s still on the yogurt from last night, but whatever the cause, it was a pretty rough night for me.
I wasn’t feeling too well today. I don’t know if it was the yogurt I ate last night or the crushed ice in all of my drinks in Cu Chi but I was a little queasy the whole day. It wasn’t a big deal though because I had a lax schedule today. We’ve been unable to get any of the hotels to let us interview the guests, so Van Anh and I are spending the day analyzing the data we have so far. After we finished, some of us went to a kooky t-shirt shop that Hieu recommended. A few of the shirts were normal but most of them were too crazy for me to pull off, many of them punk and others with vulgar messages on them. It felt as though they were trying to copy western styles but got a little too outlandish with them. Hieu pulls this kind of clothing off like a pro but I don’t think it would work as well in the U.S.
We walked out of the store and realized we were in a much less touristy part of town. I’m sure it was still pretty safe, but we were the only foreigners around so we held onto our bags a little tighter. Still, we were curious so we wandered around for a bit. The most fascinating thing we found was a church with architecture like a pagoda (in fact we thought it was a pagoda until we got a little closer and saw the crosses on top). It just goes to show, there are interesting things everywhere, even on the “wrong side of town.”
When we got back, the others had just gotten back from going to dinner without us so we gave them a hard time and went out for banh mi. The four DukeEngage girls ate ours at the cafe and tried fresh coconut milk (for the first time in my case). It comes in the coconut itself, which is shaved and has the top cut off so you can stick a straw in it. It surprised me how little it tasted like coconut. I guess I’ve always just had dry coconut, but this was like sweet water and very good (again a surprise because I don’t like coconut the way I know it). After dinner and a desert of heavenly banana pancake (made like a crepe with big chunks of banana in it and chocolate sauce on the side) I started getting sick. I don’t think it was from anything I just ate – I’d been feeling sick all day and it was finally coming up. My money’s still on the yogurt from last night, but whatever the cause, it was a pretty rough night for me.
Vietnam Day 21 (6/28/09)
I woke up excited to work, though not especially well rested. I helped feed the animals, clean, and do the usual manual labor involved in animal husbandry. In every spare second, I went around to visit the animals and enjoy my last moments with them since I was leaving in the afternoon. When Matt got there, he set me to work giving tours again. It meant a lot to me because it meant he thought I did a decent job with the visitors yesterday.
As my official sendoff, we were going down to the river to release a small bird of prey (a gorgeous white and grey bird about the size of a falcon with blood-red eyes) that had been kept at the center for recovery. I had the honor of carrying the bird in a kennel on the motorbike. It did of course make me a little less stable as we drove over the rural dirt roads, passing through potholes and almost getting stuck in the mud at one point. Nevertheless, this rocky ride didn’t stop me from enjoying the scenery along the way. There were miles of rice fields on both sides with farmers staring as we went by. We edged our way through a herd of water buffalo that were so big and awesome they made my jaw drop, though they seemed unfazed by my presence (they just kept munching away without even turning their heads in our direction). When we reached the river, we opened the kennel for the bird but despite our best efforts to help, it couldn’t fly far enough to be released. We put the bird back in the kennel to take back to the center for more recuperation. Getting onto the motorbike however, I was a little off-balance and got another exhaust pipe burn on my leg, just a few centimeters down from my last burn. You’d think a girl would learn – at least I have an excuse this time, I was carrying an endangered bird when it happened.
This has definitely been one of the highlights of my trip. Everything I did was a new experience and all of it worthwhile (even last night’s adventure with the bugs and rain). If I have time to come back again while I’m here I’ll definitely jump at the chance to come back and play with the animals again. Still, I had to go back so I packed my things and departed Cu Chi for the most harrowing bus ride of my life. The first leg of the trip wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just extraordinarily bumpy because the torrential rain last night left the road (and its potholes) in even worse condition than when I came. I got off at the right stop, but then I spent a few confused minutes trying to figure out where to go from there. I thought my connecting bus was number four but a student who spoke English told me that I actually wanted number twenty seven (which seems like a big difference to me). Since she was headed to the same place, I took her advice and boarded the bus.
Unfortunately, the person I was sitting next to got off at an early stop and the man who took the empty seat was a creepy middle-aged Nigerian. He spoke decent English, so we started talking about our respective work in Vietnam and how much we loved traveling. Then the conversation took an uncomfortable turn. He mentioned that one of the reasons he travels is to find his “angel” who will take care of him when he’s sick and who he can provide for. I suspected where that train of thought was headed and he confirmed it within minutes. He said someday he’d travel to America and, just maybe, we’d meet in the airport and he’d take me to a five-star hotel and I could show him the country. When he grabbed my wrist in a “friendly” way (with obvious disregard for my personal space), I knew for sure I was supposed to be his angel, which naturally scared me to death. To my great relief, he got off at a stop before mine, so I was finally rid of him after nearly an hour.
When I got off at my stop, I was still freaked out so I was especially jumpy when anyone came up to me to gawk or offer motorbike services. I was overly afraid of getting mugged at this point so I just kept moving, looking for a cab to make my escape. Unfortunately, I chose to walk down a sketchier street where there were no cabs. I must have been quite a sight with my huge pack, hiking boots, and khaki hat that read “WAR” (standing for Wildlife At Risk). I felt like a huge target so I hastened my way to the next intersection and grabbed the first cab I saw. Of course the cab driver got confused again and drove right past the guest house. I noticed just in time to jump out not far away so I just walked the rest.
I arrived feeling tired and disgusting, but I put my bag down and went straight out to dinner. When I got back, I was ready to relax when we encountered a large group in the hallway who were leaving to go roller skating right that minute. I’d been looking forward to going for a while now so I picked myself up again and went with them. The skating rink was insane. It reminded me of Saigon traffic only crazier. Everyone was going so fast and doing tricks, forming huge human chains as they sped around the rink. People kept crashing into us and pushing us lightly when we got in their way. We were all frightened of dying so we sat down on a bench on the backside of the rink. That was dangerous too though since right in front of us was what I would call the fast lane. Every time we leaned over to talk to each other, a chain of skaters would whiz past, nearly taking our heads with them. One skater was particularly frightening – he was racing around with a cigarette (putting us at risk of being singed), doing tricks that placed his skates as high as our noses.
I couldn’t just sit there any longer so I struck out onto the floor. Mind you, I can’t actually skate but I have a system of pushing off and gliding (more like a skateboard) that works quite well – I managed to keep up my speed and got into surprisingly few crashes (none of them my fault). At one point, a random Vietnamese girl grabbed my and we skated around together. Then her friend joined us and we formed a mini human chain. They were obviously much better skaters than I am, but I kept up and it was really fun. Sadly, I lost my rings in the process. Our palms were sweaty and when we were crashed into, our hands separated and my rings got pulled off. I was really sad about losing the moonsnail ring I got from Ninh Thuan, but we searched the entire rink and couldn’t find it. It’s alright though – they’re just things and skating at a Vietnamese roller disco is certainly an experience I can take back with me instead.
As my official sendoff, we were going down to the river to release a small bird of prey (a gorgeous white and grey bird about the size of a falcon with blood-red eyes) that had been kept at the center for recovery. I had the honor of carrying the bird in a kennel on the motorbike. It did of course make me a little less stable as we drove over the rural dirt roads, passing through potholes and almost getting stuck in the mud at one point. Nevertheless, this rocky ride didn’t stop me from enjoying the scenery along the way. There were miles of rice fields on both sides with farmers staring as we went by. We edged our way through a herd of water buffalo that were so big and awesome they made my jaw drop, though they seemed unfazed by my presence (they just kept munching away without even turning their heads in our direction). When we reached the river, we opened the kennel for the bird but despite our best efforts to help, it couldn’t fly far enough to be released. We put the bird back in the kennel to take back to the center for more recuperation. Getting onto the motorbike however, I was a little off-balance and got another exhaust pipe burn on my leg, just a few centimeters down from my last burn. You’d think a girl would learn – at least I have an excuse this time, I was carrying an endangered bird when it happened.
This has definitely been one of the highlights of my trip. Everything I did was a new experience and all of it worthwhile (even last night’s adventure with the bugs and rain). If I have time to come back again while I’m here I’ll definitely jump at the chance to come back and play with the animals again. Still, I had to go back so I packed my things and departed Cu Chi for the most harrowing bus ride of my life. The first leg of the trip wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just extraordinarily bumpy because the torrential rain last night left the road (and its potholes) in even worse condition than when I came. I got off at the right stop, but then I spent a few confused minutes trying to figure out where to go from there. I thought my connecting bus was number four but a student who spoke English told me that I actually wanted number twenty seven (which seems like a big difference to me). Since she was headed to the same place, I took her advice and boarded the bus.
Unfortunately, the person I was sitting next to got off at an early stop and the man who took the empty seat was a creepy middle-aged Nigerian. He spoke decent English, so we started talking about our respective work in Vietnam and how much we loved traveling. Then the conversation took an uncomfortable turn. He mentioned that one of the reasons he travels is to find his “angel” who will take care of him when he’s sick and who he can provide for. I suspected where that train of thought was headed and he confirmed it within minutes. He said someday he’d travel to America and, just maybe, we’d meet in the airport and he’d take me to a five-star hotel and I could show him the country. When he grabbed my wrist in a “friendly” way (with obvious disregard for my personal space), I knew for sure I was supposed to be his angel, which naturally scared me to death. To my great relief, he got off at a stop before mine, so I was finally rid of him after nearly an hour.
When I got off at my stop, I was still freaked out so I was especially jumpy when anyone came up to me to gawk or offer motorbike services. I was overly afraid of getting mugged at this point so I just kept moving, looking for a cab to make my escape. Unfortunately, I chose to walk down a sketchier street where there were no cabs. I must have been quite a sight with my huge pack, hiking boots, and khaki hat that read “WAR” (standing for Wildlife At Risk). I felt like a huge target so I hastened my way to the next intersection and grabbed the first cab I saw. Of course the cab driver got confused again and drove right past the guest house. I noticed just in time to jump out not far away so I just walked the rest.
I arrived feeling tired and disgusting, but I put my bag down and went straight out to dinner. When I got back, I was ready to relax when we encountered a large group in the hallway who were leaving to go roller skating right that minute. I’d been looking forward to going for a while now so I picked myself up again and went with them. The skating rink was insane. It reminded me of Saigon traffic only crazier. Everyone was going so fast and doing tricks, forming huge human chains as they sped around the rink. People kept crashing into us and pushing us lightly when we got in their way. We were all frightened of dying so we sat down on a bench on the backside of the rink. That was dangerous too though since right in front of us was what I would call the fast lane. Every time we leaned over to talk to each other, a chain of skaters would whiz past, nearly taking our heads with them. One skater was particularly frightening – he was racing around with a cigarette (putting us at risk of being singed), doing tricks that placed his skates as high as our noses.
I couldn’t just sit there any longer so I struck out onto the floor. Mind you, I can’t actually skate but I have a system of pushing off and gliding (more like a skateboard) that works quite well – I managed to keep up my speed and got into surprisingly few crashes (none of them my fault). At one point, a random Vietnamese girl grabbed my and we skated around together. Then her friend joined us and we formed a mini human chain. They were obviously much better skaters than I am, but I kept up and it was really fun. Sadly, I lost my rings in the process. Our palms were sweaty and when we were crashed into, our hands separated and my rings got pulled off. I was really sad about losing the moonsnail ring I got from Ninh Thuan, but we searched the entire rink and couldn’t find it. It’s alright though – they’re just things and skating at a Vietnamese roller disco is certainly an experience I can take back with me instead.
Vietnam Day 20 (6/27/09)
This morning the troops from Saigon were filing in – my troops that is. The Dukies and Vietnamese roommates were traveling to Cu Chi today and picked me up to go to the Cu Chi Tunnels with them (after getting lost for half an hour on the way here of course). Cu Chi was a hotbed for Vietnamese guerrillas during the Vietnamese-American War. Both guerrillas and villagers hid in elaborate underground tunnel systems and held out against U.S. military forces. We walked past huge craters (now overgrown with vegetation) made by American B52s. It was very moving and disturbing to think about all of the pain that had been experienced here on both sides of the conflict.
When we walked along a little further however, I realized we’d fallen into a tourist trap. In front of us were wax life-sized figures of Vietnamese soldiers dressed in camo. Here the tour guide paused so people could take pictures with the models. Some of our roommates did (which only seems natural since that’s what the figures were there for), but most of the Americans (myself included) decided against it. I feel like it would have been somewhat irreverent for us to do so while standing on ground where so many had died, especially in a conflict that the United States is consistently blamed for. We were then taken to watch a video about the history of the tunnels, but it turned out to be a propaganda tape. It glorified the Cu Chi guerrillas and demonized Americans, which makes perfect sense in this setting – I just wish the narrator hadn’t said “kill Americans” quite so many times (it was just a tad uncomfortable).
We then moved on to the tunnels themselves, walking down dirt steps into the narrow underground passageways. One might say they were too narrow, since even I had to squeeze at times and I’m much smaller than some of the people in our group (I do believe Wen almost got stuck). The next tunnels were even smaller and we had to move through them in a squatting position, our shoulders brushing the walls the whole way. The coolest part about it for me was the presence of lots of little bats (presumably vampire bats) in the tunnels with us. They buzzed past our heads and I even found a little room off to the side where I got to observe them hanging from the ceiling. No one was quite as enthused as I was but then, as Kendra pointed out, I was the only one who’d gotten a rabies vaccination.
After emerging from the last tunnel, we passed by the giftshop full of tchotchkes (like mustard yellow bobble-head dogs), none of which had anything to do with the Cu Chi Tunnels. It suddenly hit me just how touristy the whole thing had been. The tunnels were more like rides at Disney World and with all of the bats and forest around us, I’d personally been treating the experience more like a nature hike. When going through the tunnels, I wasn’t thinking about the tragedy of war or what a hard life this must have been for the Cu Chi people living underground under constant threat of bombings. I’d been sucked in like a gullible tourist and forgotten why I’d come there. I was ashamed of myself for not being mindful of my surroundings and getting as much out of the experience as I could have.
After the tunnels, the group went for a tour of the rescue center where I’m working. AS much as I love watching animals, I also enjoy observing people as they watch animals – I’m always curious to see if anyone’s as interested or inspired as I am when I’m in a place like this (though I do set the bar pretty high there). I was happy to see that people were indeed excited and having fun (especially with the otters, who are always a big hit). After they left however, I felt like there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. The keepers seemed to have a well-honed routine and at times I felt like I was just holding them up. Still, I did what I could and I felt most useful when I was giving tours. I was the only person there at the time besides Matt who spoke enough English to give the tours and he was busy so I ended up taking a few groups around the center. The tours ended up being very successful and I was able to remember a lot for having been there such a short time. So at least I know I contributed something.
That evening, after everyone had kicked off, I stayed at the center to take pictures of the animals. Just before leaving, the keepers had let the leopard out into the enclosure. She darted out so fast I couldn’t even get a picture, grabbing her enrichment, which were huge slabs of meat. She completely demolished every bit of it (including the bone) and then lounged around, calmly watching me with her milky blue eyes. Unfortunately, my little photo shoot had convinced the security guard to do the same with his camera phone. The leopard didn’t like him at all and kept trying to attack him through the fence. At one point he grabbed a large stick to bait her, but I put a stop to that before he had a chance. All I wanted was for him to go away and leave me and the animals in peace together.
Back in my room, I made a late night snack of the bananas and mangosteen I’d bought in the market. I threw a peel into the trashcan in the room only to discover that there was some kind of sugar ant hideout underneath. As soon as the trashcan moved, they swarmed out. They spread to every part of the room (including my bed since they’re small enough to get through the mosquito netting). It was absolutely disgusting - I couldn’t take a step without discovering a new batch of them. Each step also landed me in a puddle of rain water. At first I thought the rain was just blowing through the window but I found an additional source in the leaky ceiling – more specifically the section of ceiling directly over my bed. The trail of water dripping from the ceiling progressed further and further along the width of my bed, finally moving me to erect a make-shift tent by stretching an extra sheet across the poles that held up the mosquito net. This countermeasure worked to some extent, but enough water soaked through that sheet barrier to make the night very uncomfortable. I ended up crouched in a corner, one of the few dry spots of mattress left, trying to get whatever sleep I could over the deafening sound of wind and rain. All part of living in the tropics I suppose.
When we walked along a little further however, I realized we’d fallen into a tourist trap. In front of us were wax life-sized figures of Vietnamese soldiers dressed in camo. Here the tour guide paused so people could take pictures with the models. Some of our roommates did (which only seems natural since that’s what the figures were there for), but most of the Americans (myself included) decided against it. I feel like it would have been somewhat irreverent for us to do so while standing on ground where so many had died, especially in a conflict that the United States is consistently blamed for. We were then taken to watch a video about the history of the tunnels, but it turned out to be a propaganda tape. It glorified the Cu Chi guerrillas and demonized Americans, which makes perfect sense in this setting – I just wish the narrator hadn’t said “kill Americans” quite so many times (it was just a tad uncomfortable).
We then moved on to the tunnels themselves, walking down dirt steps into the narrow underground passageways. One might say they were too narrow, since even I had to squeeze at times and I’m much smaller than some of the people in our group (I do believe Wen almost got stuck). The next tunnels were even smaller and we had to move through them in a squatting position, our shoulders brushing the walls the whole way. The coolest part about it for me was the presence of lots of little bats (presumably vampire bats) in the tunnels with us. They buzzed past our heads and I even found a little room off to the side where I got to observe them hanging from the ceiling. No one was quite as enthused as I was but then, as Kendra pointed out, I was the only one who’d gotten a rabies vaccination.
After emerging from the last tunnel, we passed by the giftshop full of tchotchkes (like mustard yellow bobble-head dogs), none of which had anything to do with the Cu Chi Tunnels. It suddenly hit me just how touristy the whole thing had been. The tunnels were more like rides at Disney World and with all of the bats and forest around us, I’d personally been treating the experience more like a nature hike. When going through the tunnels, I wasn’t thinking about the tragedy of war or what a hard life this must have been for the Cu Chi people living underground under constant threat of bombings. I’d been sucked in like a gullible tourist and forgotten why I’d come there. I was ashamed of myself for not being mindful of my surroundings and getting as much out of the experience as I could have.
After the tunnels, the group went for a tour of the rescue center where I’m working. AS much as I love watching animals, I also enjoy observing people as they watch animals – I’m always curious to see if anyone’s as interested or inspired as I am when I’m in a place like this (though I do set the bar pretty high there). I was happy to see that people were indeed excited and having fun (especially with the otters, who are always a big hit). After they left however, I felt like there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. The keepers seemed to have a well-honed routine and at times I felt like I was just holding them up. Still, I did what I could and I felt most useful when I was giving tours. I was the only person there at the time besides Matt who spoke enough English to give the tours and he was busy so I ended up taking a few groups around the center. The tours ended up being very successful and I was able to remember a lot for having been there such a short time. So at least I know I contributed something.
That evening, after everyone had kicked off, I stayed at the center to take pictures of the animals. Just before leaving, the keepers had let the leopard out into the enclosure. She darted out so fast I couldn’t even get a picture, grabbing her enrichment, which were huge slabs of meat. She completely demolished every bit of it (including the bone) and then lounged around, calmly watching me with her milky blue eyes. Unfortunately, my little photo shoot had convinced the security guard to do the same with his camera phone. The leopard didn’t like him at all and kept trying to attack him through the fence. At one point he grabbed a large stick to bait her, but I put a stop to that before he had a chance. All I wanted was for him to go away and leave me and the animals in peace together.
Back in my room, I made a late night snack of the bananas and mangosteen I’d bought in the market. I threw a peel into the trashcan in the room only to discover that there was some kind of sugar ant hideout underneath. As soon as the trashcan moved, they swarmed out. They spread to every part of the room (including my bed since they’re small enough to get through the mosquito netting). It was absolutely disgusting - I couldn’t take a step without discovering a new batch of them. Each step also landed me in a puddle of rain water. At first I thought the rain was just blowing through the window but I found an additional source in the leaky ceiling – more specifically the section of ceiling directly over my bed. The trail of water dripping from the ceiling progressed further and further along the width of my bed, finally moving me to erect a make-shift tent by stretching an extra sheet across the poles that held up the mosquito net. This countermeasure worked to some extent, but enough water soaked through that sheet barrier to make the night very uncomfortable. I ended up crouched in a corner, one of the few dry spots of mattress left, trying to get whatever sleep I could over the deafening sound of wind and rain. All part of living in the tropics I suppose.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Vietnam Day 19 (6/26/09)
I had coffee with Rylan before leaving this morning and it's a damn good thing I did. He gave me directions to get to the Wildlife at Risk center in Cu Chi, telling me to take bus 2 rather than bus 13 like I'd been planning (apparently the Cu Chi bus doesn't actually go to the center in Cu Chi...go figure). I was going alone, but Van Anh drove me to the Ben Thanh Bus Station and before leaving, she talked to the bus driver, telling him where I was going so I wouldn't miss my stop (I don't think any of the roommates had any faith that I'd make it there without incident). I paid the ticket attendant dressed in a fusia uniform the ridiculously cheap price of a thousand dong for my ticket then sat back to look out the window.
Riding next to our bus was an elderly Vietnamese man on a low-rider motorbike with a helmet resembling an American general's helmet. We also passed a number of other sights that caught my attention: an electric parkinglot gate adorned with a dragon statue, a sports equipment store that looked as if it had never sold a single treadmill, identical colorful sparkly motorbikes sold at two shops only one door down from each other, a bustling market down an alley leading to a church, "Superkids Preschool" decorated with large stills from Disney movies (located next to a BMW dealership, naturally), and a pagoda with plastic figures of Buddha on the roof and a dingy tailor shop on the floor below.
When we reached the stop where I needed to catch a connecting bus, the very nice man in fusia helped me off the bus and pointed out my next bus. I had to literally catch it since it was already rolling. It was nearly onto the road when I ran alongside and hopped on. Naturally, everyone on the bus stared at the crazy foreigner but I'd like to point out that the locals do exactly the same thing. Now back to the random observations from the bus window. A fisherman traversed the narrow murky canals by pushing his bamboo raft through the reeds with a long stick (like a gondola). In one town, huts with thatch roofs stood next to gated communities containing everything from tennis courts to private churches. We passed roadside stalls selling food and drinks that made me want to jump off the bus. At one point, we were stopped in traffic next to an outdoor billiard hall unter a thatch cover. This time, it was the guys playing pool that tried to get me to jump off, waving me over after spotting me in the window. I decided against it for whatever reason. Near the end of my journey, two little girls about seven years old boarded the bus by themselves. They were giggly girls dressed in pale pink and yellow, smiling shyly up at me whenever I looked up.
When I got off the bus, I still had to walk a short distance to get to the center. I didn't exactly know where it was, but I knew the general direction so I just started walking. I knew I was close when I heard the gibbon calls. I was greeted by Matt (the manager of the center) in true Aussie style, with a friendly "Gooday." We started with a tour of the small but beautifully designed center. We first went to the indoor holding facility for the bears. There are sun bears with sleek black fur accented with golden fur on their faces and chests and in the next cage over are moon bears, stalkier bushier black bears with white patches on their chests in the shape of crecent moons. In the same area was the most beautiful big cat I've ever seen. She's a gorgeous leopard with light blue eyes that are incredibly focused. She usually snarls and growls at all of the male keepers but she's really calm around me. She doesn't get to see many women so I think she's more comfortable with me. The gibbons are the complete opposite. The females get really agitated and start screaming when women are walking around. The leading theory is that one gibbon was abused by her former owner (presumably a woman) and the others learned the behavior from her.
All of the animals at the center were rescued from the illegal animal trade where they were being sold as either food or pets. One of the bears for instance was locked in a tiny cage and stoned by its former owner. A lot of these animals have been abused for a long time before coming here. Some however, were rescued as infants and hand raised. One such example is a juvenile gibbon (who I call Penelope for whatever reason, even though Matt calls her Thumbsucker for obvious reasons) who's the only remale gibbon not disturbed by my presence. She sticks her leg out when people walk by, trying to get them to scratch it (of course I was always happy to ablige). The other animals that love to play with people are the two little short-clawed river otters that were raised by humans. Every time I walk by, they stick their slippery little heads out of the cage as far as they can and reach out for my hand with their silky wet fingers. Sometimes they attempt to nibble on my hand but it's only in play and still so adorable. Th other animals at the center include an Asiatic brush-tailed porquipine, a seven kilo king cobra, a monitor lizard, hornbills, more otters in another enclosure, pingolas (a species of anteater that's native to Vietnam), lorises, and half a dozen species of river turtle.
In the afternoon, I got to help prepare and give out food and enrichment (work I'm plenty used to after the Lemur Center). Fortunately, one of the keepers speaks English so I still have more than one person to talk to - then again, who really needs to talk to people when you have animals around. For dinner, Matt took me to a local pho place, which turned out to be amazing. Matt told me about the long process of conservation in Vietnam and how challenging it can be to run a rescue center here. He doesn't even have room to take more animals at the center, so any animals that aren't endangered have to be euthanized as soon as they're brought there. We saw one such less endangered animal here in town, a baby macaque in a tiny bird cage outside someone's home - that poor monkey will probably never be saved.
That same day we went to the local market where I bought way too much fruit and spent a lot of my time fiercly clutching my bag, trying to avoid the little boys with slippery fingers who were following us around. There was also a sweet little girl whose mother kept pushing her towards me to practice English and a cranky old woman who screamed at Matt for not buying chicken from her. The guest house I'm staying in has a beautiful courtyard and is floored with dark green tiles, its walls decorated with frescos of Vietnamese life. There are however a few obstacles to living here. There are ridiculous numbers of bugs here and I'm the only person they seem to bite. There's a definite possibility I'll go back to Saigon nothing more than a giant welt. Fortunately, I found a Duke-blue mosquito net for the bed. I set it up with little difficulty and fixed the holes with hair clips. As soon as I got under the net, I realized what a good decision it was to put it up - three mosquitos sat sulking on the outside of the netting, foiled in their plans to prey on my flesh.
Now, because of these same bugs I had gotten some bus spray from Matt earlier in the day. After my skin started to experience a burning sensation, I asked what was in it and he informed me that this type of repellent isn't sold in the United States. As a result, I was in desperate need of a shower. It turned out to be the worst shower of my life. The bathroom seemed relatively normal by Vietnamese standards, containing only a toilet and a removable showerhead dispensing cold water with no pressure. All that's fine, but what I had trouble with were the holes in the walls. These openings sent every mosquito in town into the shower with me, an acutely unpleasant experience. After finishing my rushed, painful shower, I towled off entirely using nothing more than a washcloth since I couldn't find the towels (if there even were any). This was another slow process that exposed me to further bug bites. Mosquitos have no shame.
The other issue was that I was quite alone. There were other people staying in the house, but I didn't know who and I didn't feel like playing charades just to communicate basic ideas. Instead, I had to find ways to entertain myself, which ended up being pretty successful. I wrote, read and listened to music and, as pathetic as it may sound, played solitaire. It may not sound like much, but it was actually really nice to have some alone time.
Riding next to our bus was an elderly Vietnamese man on a low-rider motorbike with a helmet resembling an American general's helmet. We also passed a number of other sights that caught my attention: an electric parkinglot gate adorned with a dragon statue, a sports equipment store that looked as if it had never sold a single treadmill, identical colorful sparkly motorbikes sold at two shops only one door down from each other, a bustling market down an alley leading to a church, "Superkids Preschool" decorated with large stills from Disney movies (located next to a BMW dealership, naturally), and a pagoda with plastic figures of Buddha on the roof and a dingy tailor shop on the floor below.
When we reached the stop where I needed to catch a connecting bus, the very nice man in fusia helped me off the bus and pointed out my next bus. I had to literally catch it since it was already rolling. It was nearly onto the road when I ran alongside and hopped on. Naturally, everyone on the bus stared at the crazy foreigner but I'd like to point out that the locals do exactly the same thing. Now back to the random observations from the bus window. A fisherman traversed the narrow murky canals by pushing his bamboo raft through the reeds with a long stick (like a gondola). In one town, huts with thatch roofs stood next to gated communities containing everything from tennis courts to private churches. We passed roadside stalls selling food and drinks that made me want to jump off the bus. At one point, we were stopped in traffic next to an outdoor billiard hall unter a thatch cover. This time, it was the guys playing pool that tried to get me to jump off, waving me over after spotting me in the window. I decided against it for whatever reason. Near the end of my journey, two little girls about seven years old boarded the bus by themselves. They were giggly girls dressed in pale pink and yellow, smiling shyly up at me whenever I looked up.
When I got off the bus, I still had to walk a short distance to get to the center. I didn't exactly know where it was, but I knew the general direction so I just started walking. I knew I was close when I heard the gibbon calls. I was greeted by Matt (the manager of the center) in true Aussie style, with a friendly "Gooday." We started with a tour of the small but beautifully designed center. We first went to the indoor holding facility for the bears. There are sun bears with sleek black fur accented with golden fur on their faces and chests and in the next cage over are moon bears, stalkier bushier black bears with white patches on their chests in the shape of crecent moons. In the same area was the most beautiful big cat I've ever seen. She's a gorgeous leopard with light blue eyes that are incredibly focused. She usually snarls and growls at all of the male keepers but she's really calm around me. She doesn't get to see many women so I think she's more comfortable with me. The gibbons are the complete opposite. The females get really agitated and start screaming when women are walking around. The leading theory is that one gibbon was abused by her former owner (presumably a woman) and the others learned the behavior from her.
All of the animals at the center were rescued from the illegal animal trade where they were being sold as either food or pets. One of the bears for instance was locked in a tiny cage and stoned by its former owner. A lot of these animals have been abused for a long time before coming here. Some however, were rescued as infants and hand raised. One such example is a juvenile gibbon (who I call Penelope for whatever reason, even though Matt calls her Thumbsucker for obvious reasons) who's the only remale gibbon not disturbed by my presence. She sticks her leg out when people walk by, trying to get them to scratch it (of course I was always happy to ablige). The other animals that love to play with people are the two little short-clawed river otters that were raised by humans. Every time I walk by, they stick their slippery little heads out of the cage as far as they can and reach out for my hand with their silky wet fingers. Sometimes they attempt to nibble on my hand but it's only in play and still so adorable. Th other animals at the center include an Asiatic brush-tailed porquipine, a seven kilo king cobra, a monitor lizard, hornbills, more otters in another enclosure, pingolas (a species of anteater that's native to Vietnam), lorises, and half a dozen species of river turtle.
In the afternoon, I got to help prepare and give out food and enrichment (work I'm plenty used to after the Lemur Center). Fortunately, one of the keepers speaks English so I still have more than one person to talk to - then again, who really needs to talk to people when you have animals around. For dinner, Matt took me to a local pho place, which turned out to be amazing. Matt told me about the long process of conservation in Vietnam and how challenging it can be to run a rescue center here. He doesn't even have room to take more animals at the center, so any animals that aren't endangered have to be euthanized as soon as they're brought there. We saw one such less endangered animal here in town, a baby macaque in a tiny bird cage outside someone's home - that poor monkey will probably never be saved.
That same day we went to the local market where I bought way too much fruit and spent a lot of my time fiercly clutching my bag, trying to avoid the little boys with slippery fingers who were following us around. There was also a sweet little girl whose mother kept pushing her towards me to practice English and a cranky old woman who screamed at Matt for not buying chicken from her. The guest house I'm staying in has a beautiful courtyard and is floored with dark green tiles, its walls decorated with frescos of Vietnamese life. There are however a few obstacles to living here. There are ridiculous numbers of bugs here and I'm the only person they seem to bite. There's a definite possibility I'll go back to Saigon nothing more than a giant welt. Fortunately, I found a Duke-blue mosquito net for the bed. I set it up with little difficulty and fixed the holes with hair clips. As soon as I got under the net, I realized what a good decision it was to put it up - three mosquitos sat sulking on the outside of the netting, foiled in their plans to prey on my flesh.
Now, because of these same bugs I had gotten some bus spray from Matt earlier in the day. After my skin started to experience a burning sensation, I asked what was in it and he informed me that this type of repellent isn't sold in the United States. As a result, I was in desperate need of a shower. It turned out to be the worst shower of my life. The bathroom seemed relatively normal by Vietnamese standards, containing only a toilet and a removable showerhead dispensing cold water with no pressure. All that's fine, but what I had trouble with were the holes in the walls. These openings sent every mosquito in town into the shower with me, an acutely unpleasant experience. After finishing my rushed, painful shower, I towled off entirely using nothing more than a washcloth since I couldn't find the towels (if there even were any). This was another slow process that exposed me to further bug bites. Mosquitos have no shame.
The other issue was that I was quite alone. There were other people staying in the house, but I didn't know who and I didn't feel like playing charades just to communicate basic ideas. Instead, I had to find ways to entertain myself, which ended up being pretty successful. I wrote, read and listened to music and, as pathetic as it may sound, played solitaire. It may not sound like much, but it was actually really nice to have some alone time.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Vietnam Day 18 (6/25/09)
A small dragonfly with a lime-green head and amber-colored tail landed delicately on the spoon of my cafe sua da. I sat motionless, examining every feature and movement it made. I looked up to find the Vietnamese man who'd joined my solitary table watching me in much the same way. We exchanged polite smiles and I went back to my writing. I've almost completely adjusted to people staring at me all the time (just as many are doing on the bus I'm writing from). Their motives aren't malice or suspicion, it's simple curiosity. Since that's what drives me in life, I'm certainly not going to denigrate it in other people. In fact, I feel a certain connection with anyone driven by curiosity.
My adventurous spirit was put to the test today as I set out into the city on my own for the first time. Van Anh had her internship so I was going to Cafe Zoom by myself to conduct surveys. I hailed my very first solo cab like a pro. Sadly, I had poor luck in cab drivers. I was pretty sure he'd overcharged me but of course had no way of confirming or communicating this so I accepted it. The bigger problem was that he took me to a semi-deserted alley at the end of the street. It was the right street so I got out to see if I could find it but I saw nothing remotely touristy. I asked in a travel agency and I was pointed down the street but the addresses weren't adding up. Some guys sitting on the curb across the street started calling out to me in a disconserting way so I hastily made my way to the main road, deciding that was a safer place to wander around like a lost tourist. That turned out to be the best decision of the day, because after looking around, I soon found the cafe just across the main raod. They were expecting me in the cafe so I just took a seat and took out my clipboards.
At this time of day however, there was only one Westerner in the joint. He was an older man with snow white hair and large glasses. Sitting next to him, listening to his story with vague disinterest was a young beautiful Vietnamese woman. This is exactly the kind of Westerner I've been trying to avoid since I started, the one who comes to Vientnam to find a woman at a reasonable price. I heard his American accent and suddenly felt ashamed. I know I shouldn't judge like that, but when I saw him leaning in with his arm gradually moving further around her backside, my gag reflex kicked in. I'm still curious about how other Vietnamese feel when they see a couple like this, but regardless, my Western eyes see a woman being taken advantage of by a slimeball that I don't want to be associated with in any way. Despite my repulsion, I had a job to do and this guy was definitely a tourist so I went over to give him the survey. After some coaxing, he agreed to take the survey, but was quick to point out that his companion didn't know English. This information made his earlier attempts at inane conversation with her that much more objectionable. Though I suppose I should be grateful that he took time out from his "business" to answer my questions at all.
After him, I only got a few more surveys, but I still enjoyed sitting in the cafe in the meantime. It was a Western restaurant serving pancakes and burgers while playing popular American music and Western television shows including boxing and the Pink Panther cartoon. I spent a good deal of my time looking out at the street, observing the people. Many of them were looking back at me, particularly the children, who laughed and hid their faces when I smiled at them. One passenger on a motorbike couldn't look back at me because he was fast asleep, a dangerous plan if you ask me. Among the motorbikes was a government truck that read "tourist security" but held no soldiers or security of any kind. It might have been unusual circumstances but it does make me wonder if the government is really concerned for tourists safety (although I would imagine they'd have to be).
Before grabbing a cab back to the gurest house, I decided to walk around a bit. Being in the city by yourself is very different than with a group. I was completely focused on observing what was around me, noticing different shops and smellsI didn't know were there though I've walked down that street before. Eventually I grabbed a cab, again successfully (it took a decent amount of effort to get his attention this time). Unfortuanately, all my success with cabs lasts only until I enter the car. This time, I showed the driver the CET card with the guest house address, but the card turned out to be outdated since we soon arrrived a tthe former guest house. It was an easy fix though and, after laughing at me for a while, the cabdriver got me safely to the correct place. Even after this whole fiasco, the cab fare still ended up being half the cost of the ride to the cafe, confirming (too late of course) that I had been ripped off earlier in the day. It's alright though, I'm going to choose to focus on the good parts of my day. I enjoyed the ability to walk around a new city iwth confidence, even putting other foreigners next to me to shame with my skill in crossing the street. I think I could survive pretty well here if I decide to come back.
My adventurous spirit was put to the test today as I set out into the city on my own for the first time. Van Anh had her internship so I was going to Cafe Zoom by myself to conduct surveys. I hailed my very first solo cab like a pro. Sadly, I had poor luck in cab drivers. I was pretty sure he'd overcharged me but of course had no way of confirming or communicating this so I accepted it. The bigger problem was that he took me to a semi-deserted alley at the end of the street. It was the right street so I got out to see if I could find it but I saw nothing remotely touristy. I asked in a travel agency and I was pointed down the street but the addresses weren't adding up. Some guys sitting on the curb across the street started calling out to me in a disconserting way so I hastily made my way to the main road, deciding that was a safer place to wander around like a lost tourist. That turned out to be the best decision of the day, because after looking around, I soon found the cafe just across the main raod. They were expecting me in the cafe so I just took a seat and took out my clipboards.
At this time of day however, there was only one Westerner in the joint. He was an older man with snow white hair and large glasses. Sitting next to him, listening to his story with vague disinterest was a young beautiful Vietnamese woman. This is exactly the kind of Westerner I've been trying to avoid since I started, the one who comes to Vientnam to find a woman at a reasonable price. I heard his American accent and suddenly felt ashamed. I know I shouldn't judge like that, but when I saw him leaning in with his arm gradually moving further around her backside, my gag reflex kicked in. I'm still curious about how other Vietnamese feel when they see a couple like this, but regardless, my Western eyes see a woman being taken advantage of by a slimeball that I don't want to be associated with in any way. Despite my repulsion, I had a job to do and this guy was definitely a tourist so I went over to give him the survey. After some coaxing, he agreed to take the survey, but was quick to point out that his companion didn't know English. This information made his earlier attempts at inane conversation with her that much more objectionable. Though I suppose I should be grateful that he took time out from his "business" to answer my questions at all.
After him, I only got a few more surveys, but I still enjoyed sitting in the cafe in the meantime. It was a Western restaurant serving pancakes and burgers while playing popular American music and Western television shows including boxing and the Pink Panther cartoon. I spent a good deal of my time looking out at the street, observing the people. Many of them were looking back at me, particularly the children, who laughed and hid their faces when I smiled at them. One passenger on a motorbike couldn't look back at me because he was fast asleep, a dangerous plan if you ask me. Among the motorbikes was a government truck that read "tourist security" but held no soldiers or security of any kind. It might have been unusual circumstances but it does make me wonder if the government is really concerned for tourists safety (although I would imagine they'd have to be).
Before grabbing a cab back to the gurest house, I decided to walk around a bit. Being in the city by yourself is very different than with a group. I was completely focused on observing what was around me, noticing different shops and smellsI didn't know were there though I've walked down that street before. Eventually I grabbed a cab, again successfully (it took a decent amount of effort to get his attention this time). Unfortuanately, all my success with cabs lasts only until I enter the car. This time, I showed the driver the CET card with the guest house address, but the card turned out to be outdated since we soon arrrived a tthe former guest house. It was an easy fix though and, after laughing at me for a while, the cabdriver got me safely to the correct place. Even after this whole fiasco, the cab fare still ended up being half the cost of the ride to the cafe, confirming (too late of course) that I had been ripped off earlier in the day. It's alright though, I'm going to choose to focus on the good parts of my day. I enjoyed the ability to walk around a new city iwth confidence, even putting other foreigners next to me to shame with my skill in crossing the street. I think I could survive pretty well here if I decide to come back.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Vietnam Day 17 (6/24/09)
Van Anh and I got up a little earlier today to try and catch tourists having their morning coffee. We hit a minor snag however, seeing not one foreigner after walking around for nearly an hour. I guess tourists like to sleep late, or maybe they just stick to continental breakfasts in the hotel. Just as we were about to give up, we decided to try one last trick and walked into the post office. We took a seat on the bench inside and, for a few moments, were very discouraged. Then we spotted our prey (we've become quite the tourist hunters...I'm thinking about buying some camo gear and carrying around my binoculars). We interviewed a couple of families that came there with Vietnamese tour guides that spoke better English than I do (hopefully an exaggeration, but I'm not sure). The most interesting person I talked to was a man from Wales carrying only a backpack and his camera. I sat down with him for some time and he told me his story, about how his sons grew up and left home, motivating him to go out and travel the world before he was left with nowhere to go but a nursing home. Now he travels around Asia, working as an amateur photographer sending his pictures back to an agent in Europe so he can keep funding his travels. He's exactly the kind of person I want to be, one who never loses that sense of adventure and openness to everything and everyone. (I only hope I can still be trekking the world when I'm his age).
Riding around today, I felt slightly less stable on the motorbike than I usually do. You see, when we went to the garage this morning, Van Anh's bike was out of pressure so we had to take Loan's. From the beginning, I noticed things were a little off - I kept sliding arounda nd my helmet banged into Van Anh's every time she hit the breaks. She later told me the reason was that Loan's bike is a "boyfriend motorbike," the kind a lot of guys buy so that their girlfriends riding behind them will have to hold on tighter (pretty ingenious from a guys perspective). I think I'm going to start riding side-saddle anyway, because Van Anh said when I'm on the bike no one can tell I'm a foreigner except that no local sits like I do when wearing a skirt.
As we drove around, I took notice of many of the schools in the city. We went past a preschool, identifiable from the outer gates made in the form of carved cartoonish animals (complete with giraffes, elephants, and Santa's reindeer). We also went past a highschoool with dozens of parents outside the gate, waiting for their children to finish a big final exam that would determine those students' futures. Later in the afternoon, a group of us went to the reunification palace. It was beautiful certainly, but after a while, the countless meeting rooms (that remained useless except when dignitaries visited) started to meld together.
For dinner, we decided to risk our health for the banh mi (Vietnamese sandwich) on the street. It was well worth the risk, packed with patte, three different kinds of pork, veggies (including papaya), and egg, topped off with lard mayonase and hot sauce. I'm sure Jenny Craig wouldn't approve of this meal, but I love it. Later that night, Van Anh and I went back out to survey, this time splitting up to cover more ground. The first group of people I encountered were mostly nice except for the one, more brash man who made me ask him the questions orally, rather rudely getting up and walking away in the middle when he was tired of answering questions. The next group however were all nice. They were Australian and British expats who were very interested in what I had to say about Ninh Thuan and happy to talk to me about living in Vientnam. They told me to pull up a seat and told me all the nice, safer places to go in the city and what the expat community was like. I had a lot of fun just sitting and chatting with them. While I know a lot of expats come here for shadier purposes, I'm becoming increasingly convinced it's even easy to find the decent, hard-working ones too.
Riding around today, I felt slightly less stable on the motorbike than I usually do. You see, when we went to the garage this morning, Van Anh's bike was out of pressure so we had to take Loan's. From the beginning, I noticed things were a little off - I kept sliding arounda nd my helmet banged into Van Anh's every time she hit the breaks. She later told me the reason was that Loan's bike is a "boyfriend motorbike," the kind a lot of guys buy so that their girlfriends riding behind them will have to hold on tighter (pretty ingenious from a guys perspective). I think I'm going to start riding side-saddle anyway, because Van Anh said when I'm on the bike no one can tell I'm a foreigner except that no local sits like I do when wearing a skirt.
As we drove around, I took notice of many of the schools in the city. We went past a preschool, identifiable from the outer gates made in the form of carved cartoonish animals (complete with giraffes, elephants, and Santa's reindeer). We also went past a highschoool with dozens of parents outside the gate, waiting for their children to finish a big final exam that would determine those students' futures. Later in the afternoon, a group of us went to the reunification palace. It was beautiful certainly, but after a while, the countless meeting rooms (that remained useless except when dignitaries visited) started to meld together.
For dinner, we decided to risk our health for the banh mi (Vietnamese sandwich) on the street. It was well worth the risk, packed with patte, three different kinds of pork, veggies (including papaya), and egg, topped off with lard mayonase and hot sauce. I'm sure Jenny Craig wouldn't approve of this meal, but I love it. Later that night, Van Anh and I went back out to survey, this time splitting up to cover more ground. The first group of people I encountered were mostly nice except for the one, more brash man who made me ask him the questions orally, rather rudely getting up and walking away in the middle when he was tired of answering questions. The next group however were all nice. They were Australian and British expats who were very interested in what I had to say about Ninh Thuan and happy to talk to me about living in Vientnam. They told me to pull up a seat and told me all the nice, safer places to go in the city and what the expat community was like. I had a lot of fun just sitting and chatting with them. While I know a lot of expats come here for shadier purposes, I'm becoming increasingly convinced it's even easy to find the decent, hard-working ones too.
Vietnam Day 16 (6/23/09)
This morning was our last Vietnamese class. I'm kind of disappointed that we don't have more instruction but I suppose we have enough vocabulary to get by as long as we keep practicing in real life. This afternoon, Van Anh and I went out to the backpacker's district to start conducting our surveys. Despite my normally outgoing nature, I was kind of nervous to approach people. I'm not usually keen on taking surveys myself, so I felt bad about asking other people to do them for me. But at least I had Van Anh with me and she urged me on. We worked out a good system whereby she would get permission from the Vietnamese cafe owners (who were frequently skeptical because they thought we were from the government) and I would approach the tourists.
Everyone was very nice once we explained ourselves. Not one of the cafes turned us away and only a couple of foreigners declined to take the questionare. Mind you, some of the toursists were more willing than others, under the influence of the empty beer glasses in front of them. No one was too drunk - they were all very nice and mostly coherent (though I had to speak a little more slowly at times so they could understand me). I was concerned at first that this might skew the survey in a negative way but I soon realized that the more beer they'd had, the more frank and chatty they were. Since part of my goal was to engage people in conversation beyond the survey questions, it worked out perfectly. I had some very interesting conversations with people from all over the world about their travels and we compared notes on our impressions of Vietnam. When I say people from all over the world, I of course mean primarily Australians, but I did talk to people from some unexpected countries like Sweden, Belgium, South Africa, and even Mexico.
On our way back from surveying, Van Anh parked the motorbike on the sidewalk next to a little stand and we had iced milk with bits of kumkwat mixed in. It was delicious and apparently others agreed with me because within minutes, there were tons of motorbikes crammed in around the stand, all of us drinking our milk without ever leaving the seat of the motorbikes. For dinner, we went to a small street-front restaurant to get bun, or "special noodles." There wasn't enough room for the whole group downstairs, so Kendra, Wen, and I proceeded to the even tinier upstairs landing (me bumping my head on the way up). It was as if we'd walked into Alice and Wonderland. We'd sat at small kiddie tables with little plastic stools before, but for some reason everything about this place seemed exponentially smaller. We were giants living in a miniature world, with only an incomplete roof to give us some much needed headspace. The noodle soup was excellent, especially after adding absurd amounts of hot sauce. Half-way through our meal, a complete stranger joined our table as if it were completely normal. He was very polite - he just ordered his food and sat quietly and even helped us get the check. Sharing and communal living are just common practice here and, I have to say, it's quite refreshing.
By the way, I think my Vietnamese accent might be getting even worse, because today I asked My where Van Anh was and she thought I was asking for a banana. So, I guess now I have a Vietnamese name and Van Anh has an English name (both based on food, interestingly enough). One of the other minor difficulties I've encountered while being here is laundry. So far, my white shirts have all turned lovely shades of purple and green and there's always the lingering question of how clean our "delicates" are. I suppose it's just part of living here.
Everyone was very nice once we explained ourselves. Not one of the cafes turned us away and only a couple of foreigners declined to take the questionare. Mind you, some of the toursists were more willing than others, under the influence of the empty beer glasses in front of them. No one was too drunk - they were all very nice and mostly coherent (though I had to speak a little more slowly at times so they could understand me). I was concerned at first that this might skew the survey in a negative way but I soon realized that the more beer they'd had, the more frank and chatty they were. Since part of my goal was to engage people in conversation beyond the survey questions, it worked out perfectly. I had some very interesting conversations with people from all over the world about their travels and we compared notes on our impressions of Vietnam. When I say people from all over the world, I of course mean primarily Australians, but I did talk to people from some unexpected countries like Sweden, Belgium, South Africa, and even Mexico.
On our way back from surveying, Van Anh parked the motorbike on the sidewalk next to a little stand and we had iced milk with bits of kumkwat mixed in. It was delicious and apparently others agreed with me because within minutes, there were tons of motorbikes crammed in around the stand, all of us drinking our milk without ever leaving the seat of the motorbikes. For dinner, we went to a small street-front restaurant to get bun, or "special noodles." There wasn't enough room for the whole group downstairs, so Kendra, Wen, and I proceeded to the even tinier upstairs landing (me bumping my head on the way up). It was as if we'd walked into Alice and Wonderland. We'd sat at small kiddie tables with little plastic stools before, but for some reason everything about this place seemed exponentially smaller. We were giants living in a miniature world, with only an incomplete roof to give us some much needed headspace. The noodle soup was excellent, especially after adding absurd amounts of hot sauce. Half-way through our meal, a complete stranger joined our table as if it were completely normal. He was very polite - he just ordered his food and sat quietly and even helped us get the check. Sharing and communal living are just common practice here and, I have to say, it's quite refreshing.
By the way, I think my Vietnamese accent might be getting even worse, because today I asked My where Van Anh was and she thought I was asking for a banana. So, I guess now I have a Vietnamese name and Van Anh has an English name (both based on food, interestingly enough). One of the other minor difficulties I've encountered while being here is laundry. So far, my white shirts have all turned lovely shades of purple and green and there's always the lingering question of how clean our "delicates" are. I suppose it's just part of living here.
Vietnam Day 15 (6/22/09)
This night-bus ride was much better than the last. I managed to get a lot more rest, even somehow sleeping through some moments I won't mention here. When we got back, I crawled into bed and just slept until noon, giving me a solid six hours in a bed I never thought I would miss this much. The rest of the day we just took it easy, swapping stories about the weekend with the few who didn't go to Dalat.
For dinner, we decided to try a slightly more upscale Indian restaurant (and by upscale, I mean about $5 US per person). Molly, Alex, and I were downright giddy with excitement waiting for the food to come. The food ended up being very good, but not at all what we expected. It was all a little more soupy than Indian food in he US and was cooked with fewer spices, but the most unusual thing about it was the appearance. All of the colors looked very pronounced and, dare I say, artificial. For instance, our spinach dish was kelly green (although thankfully it still tasted like normal spinach) and really all of the dishes resembled baby food. But they still tasted good so I guess that's all that matters. On the way back to the guest house, we walked through a night market. It was interesting to look at, but the vendors felt even more pushy than normal and all of the prices were jacked up. Besides, it's a little less safe to buy things off the street at night, so everyone went back empty-handed.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Vietnam Day 14 (6/21/09)
When we got up, the whole group headed for breakfast near the same market we walked through last night. It looked completely different in the daylight. The street, which was blocked off at night, was now full of motorbikes and trucks carrying food shipments. Some of the same souvenir and fruit vendors were there, but the huge flight of stone steps that had been covered with meat sizzling on small portable grills just last night was now barren. Fortunately, the bakery was still open so I got my own banh mi (the Vietnamese sandwich), which was just as glorious as it had been last night. We also finally succeeded in getting a durian, but we decided to save it for later (though I'm not sure how keen the hotel staff would be on us cracking it open there). I'm becoming increasingly familiar with the patience and persistence of street vendors. Literally the entire time we sat eating breakfast, two vendors stood hovering over us displaying their wears. One woman told Ming that she had two children to support, then repeated the same thing to Khang in Vietnamese.
After breakfast we went to a semi-indoor market where every vendor was selling the exact same goods. I have now idea how Van Anh and Hanh picked a stand but they made a bee-line for one in the center (maybe they'd been there before). The vendor let us sample all of the different dried candied fruits, as well as the dried streaded deer jerky which was really good (it was seasoned in something that tasted like curry and was actually quite spicy, which made me very happy). We ended up buying random fruits and wine made by ethnic peoples that comes in a clay urn and you drink out with straws, which must be quite a sight.
While we were just walking down the street, someone tapped me on the shoulder adn I turned around to find Nhu Ngoc Tran, the high school girl I met in Ninh Thuan! Being a tourist, I never once imagined I would randomly bump into someone I knew on the streets of Vietnam. It was really exciting, especially since I didn't expect to see her again for a long time.
The rest of the day was spent at Van Anh's uncle's house. We drove up a relatively steep dirt road to a gated community, complete with security guard. The house was a beautiful three-story white structure with Meditterranean features. The lawn and plants were perfectly manicured and in the front yard was miniature lake with sculptures in the shapes of mountains with porcelain houses and dancing cranes perched on top. At the door we took off our shoes and entered to the unexpected sight of decadent, baroque-styled decore. Everything from the walls to the chairs was a pale key-lime shade of green. After some tea, we took a little field trip down a very steep hill to a strawberry patch. The hike was a bit more difficult in my skirt and flipflops, but I managed pretty well. There weren't many strawberries because they weren't in season, but it was interesting to see all the different fields around us. Van Anh's cousins collected wildflowers and gave each of us a little boquet as a welcome gift.
We got additional cardio hiking back up the hill and continued up past the house to an even bigger one belonging to the owner of the complex. He was very nice and let us sit in his yard while we went camera crazy and, at long last, ate durian. Van Anh pulled apart the durian (mindful of the spikes on the outer shell) and handed out the sections, eachone containing three golf-ball sized seeds covered in the pale yellow fruit. It really is impossible to fully describe. The consistency was a little soft, a little gooey, and a little stringy, but still more unusual than any other fruit with those characteristics. I didn't love the taste but I definitely liked it. The first moment you bit into it, it's very sweet but then the taste slowly evolves into something uniquely durian. It was the after-taste that most people didn't like, so Kendra and I ended up being the only Americans to eat it (though I couldn't each too much becuase it was so thick, almost like custard). So, the final verdict on durian - it's not my favorite fruit but I enjoyed it and would certainly eat it again.
We got back to the uncle's house and had a lunch of chicken with barbeque sauce, pork, and salad. A home-cooked meal is always comforting and one in Vietnam is a pleasant mix of the exotic and the familiar. After lunch, we went out into the street in front of the house with the whole family to fly kites. The men very quickly raised a large, vibrantly-colored rooster kite, sending it so high above the air currents that it stayed there all afternoon with only minimal efforts from those on the ground. The rest of us flew smaller butterfly kites. All of the Vietnamese roommates were pretty good at it while the rest of us started out rocky but got increasingly better at keeping the kites in the air (at least, I did better than I expected). It was wonderful to watch the family interactions, with the adults gathering on the curb talking while parents helped small children fly the kites. In a way, it reminded me of my own family's get-togethers where everyone is happy and content to simply be with each other.
After flying kites, some of us walked down the hill and followed the dirt road as far as we could before reaching a drop-off. I looked around me in every direction, marveling at the terraced fields and brilliant sun setting behind emerald mountains. Aside from the gorgeous setting however, we noticed a slightly disturbing juxtaposition. On our left, bellow in the valley were small shacks with tin roofs and on our right were gigantic homes (including the one belonging to Van Anh's uncle) up on a hill, always looking down upon the poor farming communities. Kendra's right, Vietnam is a country of stark contrasts.
That night was Van Anh's uncle's birthday so the whole family plus us walked just down the street to a rather fancy restaurant. Our group had ordered a large flower arrangement as a present, so we all got up rather awkwardly and went to the other end of the table to present it to him, singing happy birthday as we walked. Then a cake was brought out and everyone sang happy birthday, also in English which surprised me. I had been to a Vietnamese celebration before so I knew what was coming - lots of food and drinking. The first dish brought out was a relatively spicy fermented pork. Then, the waiters set out miniature grills along with a plate of deer and white boar meat and we cooked our own food. It was all so delicious but I knew there was more coming so I paced myself. All of the students were clustered at the end fo the table but we still see plenty of people because so many of them came down to meet us.
One who was particularly interesting to talk to was Mr. Minh Trung who owns the restaurant and surrounding land. We found a connection when he told us about his daughter, who'd just recently graduated from Duke. It was really sweet to see how proud he was of her. He told us many times how she'd been student body vice president and was now in law school. He extended the offer to us to stay for free on one of his many properties if we ever decided to come back to Vietnam. He earnestly haded out his business cards and made us promise to contact him if we returned.
The other visitors to our end of the table were no less sincere, but slightly less sober. The uncle and his sons came around many times toasting with each of us, sometimes with wine, other times with shots that contained a mixture of vodka and rhinoceros horn (which I can still hardly believe they were using). The girls got away without drinking much of anything, but the guys were pressured to drink and drink again, and then once more for good measure. The last dishes included a big bowl of rice and a sort of rice noodle pattie stuffed with shirmp and fish (the shrimp interestingly enough was still shelled, so we just ate it shell and all) and wrapped in banana leaves.
Afterwards we walked back up the hill towards the house, the stars overhead shining much brighter than they ever could in the smog of Saigon. Back at the house, the men of the family engaged in a time-honored ritual of sitting on a mat in the front yard downing cognac mixed with snake wine. A side-effect of this practice was that some of the girls recieved mild romantic advances from the uncle's unmarried sons. With Alex however, they went to a whole other extreme. When we were leaving, she was persuaded to sit down on the mat next to the uncle, who proceeded to join her hands with his son's while people cheered. We backed her out of there as gracefully and politely as possible.
This whole weekend has been a fun, interesting experience, but two days is enough time spent in Dalat. I'm ready to go back to Saigon. We boarded another bus and I took off my glasses and looked out the window. I fell asleep watching a surreal haze of purplish-grey trees fly by.
After breakfast we went to a semi-indoor market where every vendor was selling the exact same goods. I have now idea how Van Anh and Hanh picked a stand but they made a bee-line for one in the center (maybe they'd been there before). The vendor let us sample all of the different dried candied fruits, as well as the dried streaded deer jerky which was really good (it was seasoned in something that tasted like curry and was actually quite spicy, which made me very happy). We ended up buying random fruits and wine made by ethnic peoples that comes in a clay urn and you drink out with straws, which must be quite a sight.
While we were just walking down the street, someone tapped me on the shoulder adn I turned around to find Nhu Ngoc Tran, the high school girl I met in Ninh Thuan! Being a tourist, I never once imagined I would randomly bump into someone I knew on the streets of Vietnam. It was really exciting, especially since I didn't expect to see her again for a long time.
The rest of the day was spent at Van Anh's uncle's house. We drove up a relatively steep dirt road to a gated community, complete with security guard. The house was a beautiful three-story white structure with Meditterranean features. The lawn and plants were perfectly manicured and in the front yard was miniature lake with sculptures in the shapes of mountains with porcelain houses and dancing cranes perched on top. At the door we took off our shoes and entered to the unexpected sight of decadent, baroque-styled decore. Everything from the walls to the chairs was a pale key-lime shade of green. After some tea, we took a little field trip down a very steep hill to a strawberry patch. The hike was a bit more difficult in my skirt and flipflops, but I managed pretty well. There weren't many strawberries because they weren't in season, but it was interesting to see all the different fields around us. Van Anh's cousins collected wildflowers and gave each of us a little boquet as a welcome gift.
We got additional cardio hiking back up the hill and continued up past the house to an even bigger one belonging to the owner of the complex. He was very nice and let us sit in his yard while we went camera crazy and, at long last, ate durian. Van Anh pulled apart the durian (mindful of the spikes on the outer shell) and handed out the sections, eachone containing three golf-ball sized seeds covered in the pale yellow fruit. It really is impossible to fully describe. The consistency was a little soft, a little gooey, and a little stringy, but still more unusual than any other fruit with those characteristics. I didn't love the taste but I definitely liked it. The first moment you bit into it, it's very sweet but then the taste slowly evolves into something uniquely durian. It was the after-taste that most people didn't like, so Kendra and I ended up being the only Americans to eat it (though I couldn't each too much becuase it was so thick, almost like custard). So, the final verdict on durian - it's not my favorite fruit but I enjoyed it and would certainly eat it again.
We got back to the uncle's house and had a lunch of chicken with barbeque sauce, pork, and salad. A home-cooked meal is always comforting and one in Vietnam is a pleasant mix of the exotic and the familiar. After lunch, we went out into the street in front of the house with the whole family to fly kites. The men very quickly raised a large, vibrantly-colored rooster kite, sending it so high above the air currents that it stayed there all afternoon with only minimal efforts from those on the ground. The rest of us flew smaller butterfly kites. All of the Vietnamese roommates were pretty good at it while the rest of us started out rocky but got increasingly better at keeping the kites in the air (at least, I did better than I expected). It was wonderful to watch the family interactions, with the adults gathering on the curb talking while parents helped small children fly the kites. In a way, it reminded me of my own family's get-togethers where everyone is happy and content to simply be with each other.
After flying kites, some of us walked down the hill and followed the dirt road as far as we could before reaching a drop-off. I looked around me in every direction, marveling at the terraced fields and brilliant sun setting behind emerald mountains. Aside from the gorgeous setting however, we noticed a slightly disturbing juxtaposition. On our left, bellow in the valley were small shacks with tin roofs and on our right were gigantic homes (including the one belonging to Van Anh's uncle) up on a hill, always looking down upon the poor farming communities. Kendra's right, Vietnam is a country of stark contrasts.
That night was Van Anh's uncle's birthday so the whole family plus us walked just down the street to a rather fancy restaurant. Our group had ordered a large flower arrangement as a present, so we all got up rather awkwardly and went to the other end of the table to present it to him, singing happy birthday as we walked. Then a cake was brought out and everyone sang happy birthday, also in English which surprised me. I had been to a Vietnamese celebration before so I knew what was coming - lots of food and drinking. The first dish brought out was a relatively spicy fermented pork. Then, the waiters set out miniature grills along with a plate of deer and white boar meat and we cooked our own food. It was all so delicious but I knew there was more coming so I paced myself. All of the students were clustered at the end fo the table but we still see plenty of people because so many of them came down to meet us.
One who was particularly interesting to talk to was Mr. Minh Trung who owns the restaurant and surrounding land. We found a connection when he told us about his daughter, who'd just recently graduated from Duke. It was really sweet to see how proud he was of her. He told us many times how she'd been student body vice president and was now in law school. He extended the offer to us to stay for free on one of his many properties if we ever decided to come back to Vietnam. He earnestly haded out his business cards and made us promise to contact him if we returned.
The other visitors to our end of the table were no less sincere, but slightly less sober. The uncle and his sons came around many times toasting with each of us, sometimes with wine, other times with shots that contained a mixture of vodka and rhinoceros horn (which I can still hardly believe they were using). The girls got away without drinking much of anything, but the guys were pressured to drink and drink again, and then once more for good measure. The last dishes included a big bowl of rice and a sort of rice noodle pattie stuffed with shirmp and fish (the shrimp interestingly enough was still shelled, so we just ate it shell and all) and wrapped in banana leaves.
Afterwards we walked back up the hill towards the house, the stars overhead shining much brighter than they ever could in the smog of Saigon. Back at the house, the men of the family engaged in a time-honored ritual of sitting on a mat in the front yard downing cognac mixed with snake wine. A side-effect of this practice was that some of the girls recieved mild romantic advances from the uncle's unmarried sons. With Alex however, they went to a whole other extreme. When we were leaving, she was persuaded to sit down on the mat next to the uncle, who proceeded to join her hands with his son's while people cheered. We backed her out of there as gracefully and politely as possible.
This whole weekend has been a fun, interesting experience, but two days is enough time spent in Dalat. I'm ready to go back to Saigon. We boarded another bus and I took off my glasses and looked out the window. I fell asleep watching a surreal haze of purplish-grey trees fly by.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Vietnam Day 13 (6/20/09)
Well, our plan of getting sleep on the way to Dalat didn't pan out so well. This wasn't a sleeper bus like the last one so it was considerably harder to get comfortable in the first place, made only more difficult by the uneven roads and potholes that lay in our path. Apparently, we also drove along some precarious mountain roads with steep drop-offs and no guard rails, but I was drifting in and out of sleep so I didn't see them (probably not a bad thing). We arrived in Dalat at about 5:30 a.m., considerably earlier than expected (which is disconcerting given how fast the driver must have taken those mountain passes to make such good time). Because of the timing, we arrived at the hotel too early to check in, so we sat in the lobby hunched over, trying to snooze with our luggage in our laps as pillows. At some point, the manager was nice enough to let us into the room early, allowing us a couple hours of normal sleep in beds. Not that we really cared at that hour, but the room was rather unusual. It had four queen-sized beds, fited with slightly damp sheets and a leopard print blanket that looked as though it might have never been cleaned during its entire existence. On the plus-side, there was a lot of floor space and the shower was large, but hard to access since the sliding door to the bathroom stuck, making it hard for people to get in and then trapping them inside afterwards. And the smell was an odd mix of grime and potent cleaning supplies that probably contained enough toxins to kill us all from a single inhalation.
Nevertheless, we survived and hired a guide and driver for the day. We started with a breakfast of special noodles with beef and a cafe sua da, which was just the ticket for waking me up and fortifying me for a busy day of sightseeing. I'd heard before our trip that Dalat was touristy (more popular with Vietnamese tourists than Western), but this was almost too much. We drove by the miniature recreation of the Eiffel Tower, which was made even more hilarious by our punchy, sleep-deprived state. Our first stop of the day was a little more low-key and I think my favorite. We rode in little gondalas suspended by a cable to take in the view. We dangled over lush pine foreststs and tiered crop fields, with emerald tree-covered mountains standing just a short distance away.
After that, we went to a site that was a mix between a national park and Disney World. We purchased tickets for a self-powered roller coaster down a steep hill. Kendra and I sat in a go-cart styled seat on a track, with Kendra in the back controlling the speed with a lever while I sat in front and navigated - and by navigated, I mean calling out "faster!" whenever Van's and Alex's carts got too close behind us (I'm sure I was terribly helpful). The first thing we saw when we got off the ride was a gift shop, the first of many we encountered throughout the day. Just beyond the giftshop was a waterfall that managed to retain much of its natural beauty in spite of the plastic animal sculptures and Vietnamese signs alongside the tourists taking pictures from every angle. We took this opportunity to pull out our cameras and do the same since this was one fo the few times in Vietnam we've been able to take pictures without any awkwardness. We scrambled up the waterfall as far as we could and sat enjoying the spray of the water and each other's company, removed from all the other tourists. Rather than take the roller coaster back up (which wouldn't have been nearly as fun), we hiked up a steep incline to get back to the car. We certainly got our cardio for the day.
Next, we visited a pagoda that was beautiful and up the hill from a peaceful lake. However, it was also crawling with tourists, posing for picutres in front of every flower and sacred relic. It definitely took away from the spirit of the pagoda. However, once inside the temple itself, I was able to tune everything else out. There were very few people in the temple except for a monk in a gold robe, holding incense for worhsipers to use while he rang a low dull bell (in the shape of a gold bowl) with a wooden mallot. I felt a bit like an intruder there, knealing in the temple though I'm not Buddhist. However, my actions weren't empty. There's something very moving about Buddhism that I've been unable to find in any other religion, even my own. I'm still Catholic and my religion is close to my heart, but there are elements of Buddhism that are equally powerful. It's not bogged down with rules and sacraments, it focuses on the follower becoming a good person in a very straightforward way.
Our day got progressivley more touristy as it went along. Our next stop was "The Crazy House,"an Alice in Wonderland-inspired complex of houses with unusual, dreamlike architecture. This, once again had several gift shops scattered throughout, but not as many as the next tourist haven we went to. The "Valley of Love" is one of the cheesier places I've ever been. There were lots of props to pose for photos with (down to a cutout of Mickey Mouse himself), romantic hideaways, kiddie rides (which I'll admit I wanted to go on), and ponies for rent with "tourist" written on the saddles in English. On the way out, we visited a gallery exhibiting gorgeous silk embroidery that was incredibly detailed. We even saw one woman bent over a table making her tiny stitches.
Dalat at night made me think of Las Vegas - much slower paced, but still containing lots of tourists, neon lights, and wedding chapels (along with even more shops to buy wedding dresses). We had a wonderful dinner of spring rolls with corn at a tiny roadside restaurant (like street food but with tiny tables). After dinner, we all rented tandem bicycles, which turned out to be incredibly difficult. Molly and I went together but we both had trouble steering it. I'm certain that if we'd had an opportunity to practice we would have been fine, but our route required us to go directly onto the street into a busy traffic circle. Traffic is scary enough when crossing the street on foot, let alone trying to stabilize a heavy two-person bike with the bright lights of trucks and motorbikes coming at you. Instead, we had the others rescue us, Molly riding with Hanh and Alex steering in front of me. Alex and I ended up being the best team of the bunch, consistently going faster than everyone else (which is certainly more credit to her and/or the bike, not so much me). Despite our rocky beginning, it turned out to be a great deal of fun.
After returning the bikes, we walked to a big market with clothes and food, most commonly meat grilled on tiny cookers on the sidewalk. Some people got banh mi, a Vietnamese sandwich made from a baguette, which I've been wanting to try ever since I got to Vietnam. Since I wasn't hungry, Hanh let me try hers and it was everything I'd built it up to be. I'll have a full one tomorrow when I can actually finish it. We ended the evening sitting at a streetside vendor drinking warm soymilk mixed with green bean juice. It kind of put us to sleep so we made our way back to the hotel. Now Van Anh and Khang are here after a long, trying bus rid (complete with break down). Tomorrow, we have once again made plans to eat durian. Every plan thus far has been foiled (including our attempt tonight when none of them were ripe), but Kendra and I are determined to succeed.
Nevertheless, we survived and hired a guide and driver for the day. We started with a breakfast of special noodles with beef and a cafe sua da, which was just the ticket for waking me up and fortifying me for a busy day of sightseeing. I'd heard before our trip that Dalat was touristy (more popular with Vietnamese tourists than Western), but this was almost too much. We drove by the miniature recreation of the Eiffel Tower, which was made even more hilarious by our punchy, sleep-deprived state. Our first stop of the day was a little more low-key and I think my favorite. We rode in little gondalas suspended by a cable to take in the view. We dangled over lush pine foreststs and tiered crop fields, with emerald tree-covered mountains standing just a short distance away.
After that, we went to a site that was a mix between a national park and Disney World. We purchased tickets for a self-powered roller coaster down a steep hill. Kendra and I sat in a go-cart styled seat on a track, with Kendra in the back controlling the speed with a lever while I sat in front and navigated - and by navigated, I mean calling out "faster!" whenever Van's and Alex's carts got too close behind us (I'm sure I was terribly helpful). The first thing we saw when we got off the ride was a gift shop, the first of many we encountered throughout the day. Just beyond the giftshop was a waterfall that managed to retain much of its natural beauty in spite of the plastic animal sculptures and Vietnamese signs alongside the tourists taking pictures from every angle. We took this opportunity to pull out our cameras and do the same since this was one fo the few times in Vietnam we've been able to take pictures without any awkwardness. We scrambled up the waterfall as far as we could and sat enjoying the spray of the water and each other's company, removed from all the other tourists. Rather than take the roller coaster back up (which wouldn't have been nearly as fun), we hiked up a steep incline to get back to the car. We certainly got our cardio for the day.
Next, we visited a pagoda that was beautiful and up the hill from a peaceful lake. However, it was also crawling with tourists, posing for picutres in front of every flower and sacred relic. It definitely took away from the spirit of the pagoda. However, once inside the temple itself, I was able to tune everything else out. There were very few people in the temple except for a monk in a gold robe, holding incense for worhsipers to use while he rang a low dull bell (in the shape of a gold bowl) with a wooden mallot. I felt a bit like an intruder there, knealing in the temple though I'm not Buddhist. However, my actions weren't empty. There's something very moving about Buddhism that I've been unable to find in any other religion, even my own. I'm still Catholic and my religion is close to my heart, but there are elements of Buddhism that are equally powerful. It's not bogged down with rules and sacraments, it focuses on the follower becoming a good person in a very straightforward way.
Our day got progressivley more touristy as it went along. Our next stop was "The Crazy House,"an Alice in Wonderland-inspired complex of houses with unusual, dreamlike architecture. This, once again had several gift shops scattered throughout, but not as many as the next tourist haven we went to. The "Valley of Love" is one of the cheesier places I've ever been. There were lots of props to pose for photos with (down to a cutout of Mickey Mouse himself), romantic hideaways, kiddie rides (which I'll admit I wanted to go on), and ponies for rent with "tourist" written on the saddles in English. On the way out, we visited a gallery exhibiting gorgeous silk embroidery that was incredibly detailed. We even saw one woman bent over a table making her tiny stitches.
Dalat at night made me think of Las Vegas - much slower paced, but still containing lots of tourists, neon lights, and wedding chapels (along with even more shops to buy wedding dresses). We had a wonderful dinner of spring rolls with corn at a tiny roadside restaurant (like street food but with tiny tables). After dinner, we all rented tandem bicycles, which turned out to be incredibly difficult. Molly and I went together but we both had trouble steering it. I'm certain that if we'd had an opportunity to practice we would have been fine, but our route required us to go directly onto the street into a busy traffic circle. Traffic is scary enough when crossing the street on foot, let alone trying to stabilize a heavy two-person bike with the bright lights of trucks and motorbikes coming at you. Instead, we had the others rescue us, Molly riding with Hanh and Alex steering in front of me. Alex and I ended up being the best team of the bunch, consistently going faster than everyone else (which is certainly more credit to her and/or the bike, not so much me). Despite our rocky beginning, it turned out to be a great deal of fun.
After returning the bikes, we walked to a big market with clothes and food, most commonly meat grilled on tiny cookers on the sidewalk. Some people got banh mi, a Vietnamese sandwich made from a baguette, which I've been wanting to try ever since I got to Vietnam. Since I wasn't hungry, Hanh let me try hers and it was everything I'd built it up to be. I'll have a full one tomorrow when I can actually finish it. We ended the evening sitting at a streetside vendor drinking warm soymilk mixed with green bean juice. It kind of put us to sleep so we made our way back to the hotel. Now Van Anh and Khang are here after a long, trying bus rid (complete with break down). Tomorrow, we have once again made plans to eat durian. Every plan thus far has been foiled (including our attempt tonight when none of them were ripe), but Kendra and I are determined to succeed.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Vietnam Day 12 (6/19/09)
This morning my regular breakfast crew, which includes Kendra, Molly, and myself went out for a hearty breakfast of crab spring rolls and clear vermacelli noodles. Afterwards we met up with Wen, Van, and Ming to go shopping. We went into just a few of the more expensive shops just for kicks. We saw everything from dresses that looked like maid's outfits to colorful purses with seaquined alligators on them, thoguh my favorite was still the giant grouper in a fish tank outside a restaurant. We then proceeded to the much more affordable Saigon Square Market, which carries tons of American brands, or rather knock-off brands of clothing that were two sizes smaller than in the US. The booths were all crammed in together and there was no room to move. I was too overwhelmed to do any real shopping, but I did get a bg I needed (a Kipling shoulderbag for $5 US, quite a steal). We tried to have an early dinner at my favorite pho place on 18 alley, but for some reason it closes for dinner, which was devastating. Dejected, we headed back to the guesthouse, resorting to dinner at the outdoor cafe there. My food was alright because I got vermacelli, but nearly everyone else ended up with instant ramen noodles (much like the packaged crap we eat at school). and beef of questoinable quality (many have compared it to dogfood). Nevertheless, everyone did a pretty good job choking down their disappointing meals and we went back to back for Dalat.
This weekend we're going on a side trip to a prvince called Dalat where we're all invited to a housewarming party hosted by Van Anh's uncle. I'm so excited to meet her family and to see how a modern Vietnamese family lives. Our bus left at 11:00pm from the same station I used last time, but for some reason it felt much more sketchy than before. There were creepy scalpers who approached us aggressively and tried to sit next to us, attempting to sell us tickets off the black market. Eventually however, they went away and we boarded the bus with hopes of sleep.
This weekend we're going on a side trip to a prvince called Dalat where we're all invited to a housewarming party hosted by Van Anh's uncle. I'm so excited to meet her family and to see how a modern Vietnamese family lives. Our bus left at 11:00pm from the same station I used last time, but for some reason it felt much more sketchy than before. There were creepy scalpers who approached us aggressively and tried to sit next to us, attempting to sell us tickets off the black market. Eventually however, they went away and we boarded the bus with hopes of sleep.
Vietnam Day 11 (6/18/09)
We had to get up a little earlier today to go to the consulate, which wasn't the best timing becasue some of us had gotten very little sleep the night before. Staying up last night was a blast, but resulted in some pretty impressive bags under our eyes as we walked through the consulate's security check. We met with a woman named Sunshine (who pleasantly lived up to her name), who told us how the consulate works and gave us some information I probably shouldn't repeat here. After our briefing we headed straight to language class. We played a really amusing game to practice directions in which one person was blindfolded and the other had to guide them in Vietnamese. The exercise itself went alright but the really funny part was when our instructor showed me the destination I was to direct Ming to. It was the men's room and in the process of showing me, she inadvertently opened the door on a guy (thank God for the barrier or we would have gotten more of a show than we'd bargained for). We ran back down the hall giggling like a couple of embarassed school girls.
Tonight Rylan was holding an open house at his new apartment and we all wanted to pitch in and get him a housewarming gift. We decided a nice teaset would be perfect so Van Anh, Hieu, Alex, and I set out on motorbikes to a shop they knew of. However, we soon discovered it was a ritzy, super-expensive store with imported china that wasn't at all what we were looking for. So we set out to find another place, which turned out to be a huge fiasco. We started out just driving around looking for any store that might sell teasets. That, however was a complete failure. Our next attempt was a place I'd seen when we took a tour of the city our first day. I knew we were on the right street but I must have missed it because we went up and down the street without finding it - failure number two (mostly on my part I'm afraid). We pulled off to the side fo the road so I could call the others to see if they had a better idea of where we should go. Of course, as soon as I placed the call, it started pouring. I tried to hide under the back of Van Anh's poncho (very difficult to do with a helmet on), but I still got soaked. They didn't have a much better idea than I did so we just went back to the guesthouse in the rain. So that whole venture turned out to be a series of mishaps, ending with us returning empty-handed. But not to worry, we looked up a better place online and Van Anh went out later and got a beautiful set.
During that time, the rest of us went to the Little Rose Shelter where Molly and Kendra are volunteering. The shelter serves as a home to young girls who have been or are at risk of sexual abuse. Some of th girls were in the courtyard when we walked in, just hanging out. They were all so young and so beautiful, it was painful to think of such horrible things happening to them. Inside, the director of the center gave a talk on sexual abuse around the world. It struck me that she kept smiling when she talked to us. I suppose it was just Vietnamese hospitality or she was trying not to depress us. Despite her best efforts, we were still depressed (with good reason if you ask me). This is a serious, heavy topic that it's justified to get upset over.
When we got back, we were forced to make an emotional one-eighty, because we were leaving right away for Rylan's housewarming party. The house was even more beautiful than the last time I saw it, now that everything was unpacked and sparkly clean. The view from the balcony was an entirely new one at nightas twinkling colored lights on the masts of the boats reflected off the Saigon River. Rylan's other guests were a bunch of expats that were very interesting to talk to. One of the Brits carried around a fake rat in his pocket (just for kicks) and caused quite a disturbance by lanching it across the room into a girls lap. After the comotion subsided, I talked with many of the expats about their experiences living in Vietnam and i seems many of them felt the same as me on their first visit to Vietnam. It's all very new and exotic, but in some way living here just feels natural. Who knows, maybe some day I'll be labeled an expat.
Tonight Rylan was holding an open house at his new apartment and we all wanted to pitch in and get him a housewarming gift. We decided a nice teaset would be perfect so Van Anh, Hieu, Alex, and I set out on motorbikes to a shop they knew of. However, we soon discovered it was a ritzy, super-expensive store with imported china that wasn't at all what we were looking for. So we set out to find another place, which turned out to be a huge fiasco. We started out just driving around looking for any store that might sell teasets. That, however was a complete failure. Our next attempt was a place I'd seen when we took a tour of the city our first day. I knew we were on the right street but I must have missed it because we went up and down the street without finding it - failure number two (mostly on my part I'm afraid). We pulled off to the side fo the road so I could call the others to see if they had a better idea of where we should go. Of course, as soon as I placed the call, it started pouring. I tried to hide under the back of Van Anh's poncho (very difficult to do with a helmet on), but I still got soaked. They didn't have a much better idea than I did so we just went back to the guesthouse in the rain. So that whole venture turned out to be a series of mishaps, ending with us returning empty-handed. But not to worry, we looked up a better place online and Van Anh went out later and got a beautiful set.
During that time, the rest of us went to the Little Rose Shelter where Molly and Kendra are volunteering. The shelter serves as a home to young girls who have been or are at risk of sexual abuse. Some of th girls were in the courtyard when we walked in, just hanging out. They were all so young and so beautiful, it was painful to think of such horrible things happening to them. Inside, the director of the center gave a talk on sexual abuse around the world. It struck me that she kept smiling when she talked to us. I suppose it was just Vietnamese hospitality or she was trying not to depress us. Despite her best efforts, we were still depressed (with good reason if you ask me). This is a serious, heavy topic that it's justified to get upset over.
When we got back, we were forced to make an emotional one-eighty, because we were leaving right away for Rylan's housewarming party. The house was even more beautiful than the last time I saw it, now that everything was unpacked and sparkly clean. The view from the balcony was an entirely new one at nightas twinkling colored lights on the masts of the boats reflected off the Saigon River. Rylan's other guests were a bunch of expats that were very interesting to talk to. One of the Brits carried around a fake rat in his pocket (just for kicks) and caused quite a disturbance by lanching it across the room into a girls lap. After the comotion subsided, I talked with many of the expats about their experiences living in Vietnam and i seems many of them felt the same as me on their first visit to Vietnam. It's all very new and exotic, but in some way living here just feels natural. Who knows, maybe some day I'll be labeled an expat.
Vietnam Day 10 (6/17/09)
I've been having pho withdrawal lately so I went with Kendra and Molly to the best pho place we've found so far (the one down the same little side-street I'm always raving about, muoi tam or 18 in English...I'll be referring to it as 18 alley from now on since it has no official name). I'm proud to report that I am getting the tinsiest bit better at the language and ordered my pho and cafe sua nam in almost complete sentences. I was however a little less confident at bargaining for fruit on our way back, but between me and Kendra we managed to get some lovely mangosteen and dragonfruit. By the way, the food here can screw with your stomach a bit. I haven't been sick, it just feels a little odd, like my stomach is still adjusting to being here. Still, the food is so good that any side-effect is worth it. Later, I sat down in the guest house's little patio to finish reading the papers Rylan gave us. While I was reading however, I found the biggest distraction in this place - a little Vietnamese girl whose mother works at the cafe next door. She's got to be one of the most beautiful little girls in this country and she was so giggly and curious about me that I just had to play with her. We didn't speak the same language of course (despite the few Vietnamese words I tried to use), but I found the language barrier to be quite irrelevant. Neither one of us wanted to talk, we wanted to play. We stated a short distance from one another with her on the edge of the patio, hiding behind potted trees and popping out to surprise me. I played peek-a-boo and made silly noises and faces that all sent her into fits of giggles. When we'd established a report, I moved closer and we played around the trees. This child has a tireless appreciation for peek-a-boo - I'm convinced it's the only universal language. Eventually I sat back down, at which point she came over to me and sat across the table and we started mimicking each other's funny faces. When her mother (a very sweet woman who I attempted to greet in Vietnamese) came over and sat with us, the little girl got bolder. I think she'd been afraid to touch me before but now she grabbed my hands and we spun each other around the patio. I played with her for about an hour, so long I was almost late to Rylan's seminar, but it would have been worth it. The simplest things are always so much more meaningful with a child.
Rylan's seminar couldn't possibly compare with the entertainment the little girl provided, but it was certainly interesting. We went over the history and government of Vietnam in an hour, which is of course impossible but he did pretty well. That night, the Duke students rediscovered TV. We watched "Species," which is supposed to be a horror flick but can easily become a comedy when you can make fun of it with a big group of people. We had a hilarious night, though it involved very little sleep (that could be a problem tomorrow).
Rylan's seminar couldn't possibly compare with the entertainment the little girl provided, but it was certainly interesting. We went over the history and government of Vietnam in an hour, which is of course impossible but he did pretty well. That night, the Duke students rediscovered TV. We watched "Species," which is supposed to be a horror flick but can easily become a comedy when you can make fun of it with a big group of people. We had a hilarious night, though it involved very little sleep (that could be a problem tomorrow).
Vietnam Day 9 (6/16/09)
This morning we had our second Vietnamese class. The first one was much easier because I'd learned some of the numbers before coming, but this time we went over a lot of new material very quickly. We learned terms for ordering in restaurants and bargaining, which will both be useful if I can possibly remember them outside the classroom. We had a new instructor today, a beautiful smiley woman who speaks rather quickly but is wonderful at explaining pronunciation. Afterwards Van Anh and I finished up our work, making a brochure and questionnaire to the sound of karaoke somewhere in the building.
For dinner the whole group went out for "special noodles," which really were special. The broth was amazing, though I could be biased by the gallons of hot sauce I poured in. Almost everyone got theirs with chicken, but Loan got pig's blood which she gave me to try. I was definitely going to try it, but I was a little tentative about the brown gelatenous cube so I split it with Kendra and made her try it with me. We took a deep breath, counted to three in Vietnamese and took a bite. After all that ceremony, it turned out to be a non-event. It didn't taste that odd, in fact it didn't taste lik emuch at all. I don't think I'd ever order just pig's blood, but I certainly have no objection to it if it ever ends up on my plate again. On the way back to the guest house, we stopped by to pick up our laundry from a little house in the side-street around the corner from us. It's still unclear exactly how clean our clothes get through this process, but all of my things came out fine (though a couple of people had proplems with their white shirts).
Later that night we were all invited by Phil's cousin to a dodgeball game with a bunch of expats. Half of us were tired, so we decided to wait until next week when they play again. Those of us that stayed behind decided to satisfy our cravings by going ot the little supermarket and buying chocolate (except for Wen, who instead got some knock-off saltines that ended up being a big hit, and Alex who got onion rings that tasted like fishy paper). We spent the rest of the evening talking and enjoying our Western food.
For dinner the whole group went out for "special noodles," which really were special. The broth was amazing, though I could be biased by the gallons of hot sauce I poured in. Almost everyone got theirs with chicken, but Loan got pig's blood which she gave me to try. I was definitely going to try it, but I was a little tentative about the brown gelatenous cube so I split it with Kendra and made her try it with me. We took a deep breath, counted to three in Vietnamese and took a bite. After all that ceremony, it turned out to be a non-event. It didn't taste that odd, in fact it didn't taste lik emuch at all. I don't think I'd ever order just pig's blood, but I certainly have no objection to it if it ever ends up on my plate again. On the way back to the guest house, we stopped by to pick up our laundry from a little house in the side-street around the corner from us. It's still unclear exactly how clean our clothes get through this process, but all of my things came out fine (though a couple of people had proplems with their white shirts).
Later that night we were all invited by Phil's cousin to a dodgeball game with a bunch of expats. Half of us were tired, so we decided to wait until next week when they play again. Those of us that stayed behind decided to satisfy our cravings by going ot the little supermarket and buying chocolate (except for Wen, who instead got some knock-off saltines that ended up being a big hit, and Alex who got onion rings that tasted like fishy paper). We spent the rest of the evening talking and enjoying our Western food.
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