...still day 1

The three Durhamites met the rest of the DukeEngage group (Kendra, Molly, Wen, Ming, and Phil) in the Hong Kong airport to fly to Saigon. Our group is simply wonderful. There's not one person I don't get along with or love talking to. We're all so chill and open to anything that I can't help but love them. When we got on the plane we had to fill out multiple forms for customs to approve, giving all of our identification information and specific details about where we we'd be and what we'd be doing. It was my first real reminder of the kind of government I'd be living in for the next nine weeks. Customs itself was relatively painless - just a quick look-see from a government official in an olive green uniform flourished with red and gold (oh, and can't forget to mention his surgical mask, but that's not exactly an uncommon sight in this part of the world... probably not unwarrented either). Somehow all of our bags came through without a hitch (though there were a couple of tense moments waiting for Kendra's and Phil's bags).

Before leaving the airport, we decided to exchange some money and were immediately confronted with half-a-dozen bank stands. Each one had a smiling employee, ushering us over with a wave of the hand as we stood there trying to calculate the exchange rate so we could get the best deal (and let me tell you, it took some time...always nice to see that Duke education hard at work). Then, "magically" the electronic chart with the exchange rate changed to a better price and we flocked to the stand. Naturally we were lured in intentionally (and we knew it), but hey we're no suckers - that's the best deal you'll find anywhere else in the city.

When we walked outside, we found crowds of people waiting behind the ropes and were hopelessly lost in the sea of faces for about three seconds until a group of students holding a sign that read "CET" (our host organization in Vietnam) started clapping and calling us over. Every one of them was smiling and eager to get our names. I found myself smiling profusely back at them - their enthusiasm was so infectous I couldn't help myself. The language barrier however was pretty evident from the start. Oh, not on their side, they had their English greetings down pat. We were the ones who couldn't pronounce their names (though to be fair to us, they'd had time to learn our names before we arrived, so I think we did pretty well under the circumstances). I did however get one of the compliments of my life when one girl asked if I knew any Vietnamese because I pronounced her name so well. (I'm afraid that's not much credit to me though, it was only one syllable). When I said my name, Van Anh stepped up and introduced herself as my roommate. We sat together on the bus and the conversation started out much as any first interaction between perfect strangers. We talked about school, family, home, and what we wanted to do with our lives. Her English is impeccable (she majored in it in high school) and even catches all of my slang. She's one fo the best English-speakers out of all the Vietnamese roommates, so I consider myself pretty lucky (she's even helping me with my Vietnamese...what little I have). She's very much an adult (at least she seems more mature than I probably come off), but still has a wonderful sense of humor - the perfect combo.

When we reach our new home at the guest-house, I open my door to a frigid air-conditioning breeze, possibly my favorite thing about this room. A couple interesting details about the bathroom though: there's no shower stall (just a detatchable showerhead that I try to keep as close to the drain as possible so the entire floor doesn't end up wet...a somewhat futile effort) and there's a big red bucket against a wall which I can only assume is part of the bathing/showering process but I can't for the life of me figure out how (hopefully more details on that later).

As we start to settle in for bed, a knock comes at the door. Apparently we're going out for pho. I'm not hungry in the least but there's no way I was going to pass up my first authentic Vietnamese pho. We all walk just around the corner to a little place that's about the only thing open at 11:00 pm, a very open-air family run pho shop. As I sat there on that little plastic stool reaching once again for the bottle of Vietnamese hot sauce, I truly fell in love with pho. I learned how to properly slurp my noodles as the surprisingly pleasant tropical weather enveloped me. Every bite tasted better, every deep-sea exploration into my bowl turned up new ingredients. Essentially, I felt the magic. We walked back to the house, Van Anh valiantly rescuing me from a near-death experience with the traffic (ok, perhaps a bit dramatic). But I hardly noticed. I remained in a state of blissful contentment until I fell asleep).