November 19
I now have all the trappings of a real human dwelling - sheets, towels, a phone, everything. The apartment has a number of safety features that should make my mother happy - there's a smoke detector in every room, as well as fire extinguishers in the hallways and three separate outside stairwells. That's all well and good. The safety feature I'm having trouble with is the door.
This building has several guards by the enterance, and there are two separate locks on the inner wooden door to my apartment. Then there's a metal grated door that fits over the wooden one, and it's got all sorts of latches that get fastened with a deadbolt. If you want to get to the wooden door's locks, you have to remove the deadbolt and unfasten three latches. This will open up a small space just large enough that you can put your hand in and unlock the two locks on the wooden door. One of the wooden door locks is right there in front of you, but the other is about a foot up and you have to kneel down and reach up at an awkward angle to hit.
I am not talented enough to handle the second lock. Neither was the guy next door that I flagged down to help me. I had to go downstairs and ask the guards for help. This is how you communicate that you require assistance with your locks in bad Vietnamese:
Step 1: Say hello and wave.
Step 2: Hold up your keys and say "Have" and point to them.
Step 3: Look perplexed and say "But..."
Step 4: Walk over to a window on the guard booth. Grasping the window from either side, pull it towards yourself and then push it away as though you expect it to open. Give the window a dirty look.
Step 5: Turn to the guards and shrugg elaborately.
Ah, the joys of efficient communication. Join us next time when we attempt to explain what we would like on our salad.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
November 17
First morning in the new apartment. Molly and I stayed up late, chatting and rehashing. Molly and ban trai Nhat met me at the airport - I was thrilled to see them. There had been some ado, since I didn't have our address and she'd been away from phone and email the past few days. I tried to call her from my layover in Japan, but the call didn't go through. I did get through to my parents, who called her parents, and the four of them set off a barage of phone calls and emails from the States. And she got one of the emails, and so met me at Tay Son Nhat with much merryness.
And then we came back to our apartment. Which is fabulous. I'm having first real apartment glee. My first thought upon seeing my room: "I can cover the floors with two weeks' worth of old newspapers and no one can tell me not to because I'M PAYING FOR THIS ROOM." I'm not sure where I got the newspapers from; I hadn't slept in awhile. But the sentiment was pretty great.
The layout is pretty typical - two bedrooms, kitchen, living room. But it's got more space than the average American city apartment, and it has two balconies. All my life I've wanted a balcony, and now I have two. Its on the sixth floor, with a great view of the city. Pictures to follow.
I have a lot of trouble sleeping in airplanes, so I was pretty tired by the time I got there. I went to bed around three, and later on I woke up. My watch said five, and I thought it must be five in the afternoon, but when I opened the window it was still dark. And then I heard what woke me up. A rooster in or near our building was having a cackle-off with a rooster a few houses over. You'd hear a loud "cockle-doodle-do!" followed by a further away but more forceful "Cockle-doodle-DOODLE-do!" ("You call THAT heralding the dawn, buddy?")
I knew I had returned.
This morning I went off in search of breakfast. The girl at the food stand understood my heavily accented request for iced coffee, but she couldn't figure out what I meant when I asked for eggs and bread. I'm discovering the Vietnamese I know has come right back to me, but my accent is indeed worse than ever.
The city's also coming back to me. I laughed at myself earlier today when I was out getting groceries - I paused at a crosswalk to wait for traffic to stop. HA! Traffic here never stops, under any circumstances; if you want to cross the street you have to wade through the motorbikes in complete defiance of your survival instinct. You can tell a lot about the psychology of a place by how people behave at crosswalks. Fortunately the wading also came back to me fine.
I'm not at all used to the heat, and it's starting to affect me. I bought myself a bunch of orange juice, my favorite anti-heat remedy.
And so it goes. I have a few days to be domestic before my class starts, so I'm getting some household things set up. My next adventure: towels.
First morning in the new apartment. Molly and I stayed up late, chatting and rehashing. Molly and ban trai Nhat met me at the airport - I was thrilled to see them. There had been some ado, since I didn't have our address and she'd been away from phone and email the past few days. I tried to call her from my layover in Japan, but the call didn't go through. I did get through to my parents, who called her parents, and the four of them set off a barage of phone calls and emails from the States. And she got one of the emails, and so met me at Tay Son Nhat with much merryness.
And then we came back to our apartment. Which is fabulous. I'm having first real apartment glee. My first thought upon seeing my room: "I can cover the floors with two weeks' worth of old newspapers and no one can tell me not to because I'M PAYING FOR THIS ROOM." I'm not sure where I got the newspapers from; I hadn't slept in awhile. But the sentiment was pretty great.
The layout is pretty typical - two bedrooms, kitchen, living room. But it's got more space than the average American city apartment, and it has two balconies. All my life I've wanted a balcony, and now I have two. Its on the sixth floor, with a great view of the city. Pictures to follow.
I have a lot of trouble sleeping in airplanes, so I was pretty tired by the time I got there. I went to bed around three, and later on I woke up. My watch said five, and I thought it must be five in the afternoon, but when I opened the window it was still dark. And then I heard what woke me up. A rooster in or near our building was having a cackle-off with a rooster a few houses over. You'd hear a loud "cockle-doodle-do!" followed by a further away but more forceful "Cockle-doodle-DOODLE-do!" ("You call THAT heralding the dawn, buddy?")
I knew I had returned.
This morning I went off in search of breakfast. The girl at the food stand understood my heavily accented request for iced coffee, but she couldn't figure out what I meant when I asked for eggs and bread. I'm discovering the Vietnamese I know has come right back to me, but my accent is indeed worse than ever.
The city's also coming back to me. I laughed at myself earlier today when I was out getting groceries - I paused at a crosswalk to wait for traffic to stop. HA! Traffic here never stops, under any circumstances; if you want to cross the street you have to wade through the motorbikes in complete defiance of your survival instinct. You can tell a lot about the psychology of a place by how people behave at crosswalks. Fortunately the wading also came back to me fine.
I'm not at all used to the heat, and it's starting to affect me. I bought myself a bunch of orange juice, my favorite anti-heat remedy.
And so it goes. I have a few days to be domestic before my class starts, so I'm getting some household things set up. My next adventure: towels.
November 15JFK Airport, NY
My trip begins after a sleepless night on my aunt's couch. I kept resisting the urge to turn on the TV because I was afraid of keeping myself awake. Ha. I deprived myself of a good episode of M*A*S*H on at 4 a.m., that I might stare at some beige plaid couch pillows.
Going back this time feels different. I know what I'm going towards now, but I don't have the safety of a school or a program, or even an address to go to. In the excitement of setting up our apartment, I never actually got our street address from Molly. I only know it's a 10 story Korean highrise in Binh Thanh, which isn't a lot to tell the cab driver when I see him. I know the address of the guesthouse where I lived before, and if all else fails I'll go there. This is not being met at the airport by Stu (SIT program director) . Stu had his flaws, but at least he was someone.
I'm about to begin an intense period of relying on my own devices. In the interum, I've found space to worry about just what those devices are and how I will use them. For example, I have friends, credit cards, a bank account, and a U.S. passport, but I still I have visions of myself wandering around the city looking like a shipwreck victim. Then there's my Vietnamese, which was always pretty dismal but is now more tragic than ever.
Although I have to say that the last time I sat in an airport on the way to Vietnam, things turned out fine. In memory of that, I went into Hudson News and bought the book "A Prayer for Owen Meany". I had it with me last trip - something about going to Vietnam put me into a John Irving phase. So I bought it again. Reassurance in the form of plane reading. Take what you can get.
My trip begins after a sleepless night on my aunt's couch. I kept resisting the urge to turn on the TV because I was afraid of keeping myself awake. Ha. I deprived myself of a good episode of M*A*S*H on at 4 a.m., that I might stare at some beige plaid couch pillows.
Going back this time feels different. I know what I'm going towards now, but I don't have the safety of a school or a program, or even an address to go to. In the excitement of setting up our apartment, I never actually got our street address from Molly. I only know it's a 10 story Korean highrise in Binh Thanh, which isn't a lot to tell the cab driver when I see him. I know the address of the guesthouse where I lived before, and if all else fails I'll go there. This is not being met at the airport by Stu (SIT program director) . Stu had his flaws, but at least he was someone.
I'm about to begin an intense period of relying on my own devices. In the interum, I've found space to worry about just what those devices are and how I will use them. For example, I have friends, credit cards, a bank account, and a U.S. passport, but I still I have visions of myself wandering around the city looking like a shipwreck victim. Then there's my Vietnamese, which was always pretty dismal but is now more tragic than ever.
Although I have to say that the last time I sat in an airport on the way to Vietnam, things turned out fine. In memory of that, I went into Hudson News and bought the book "A Prayer for Owen Meany". I had it with me last trip - something about going to Vietnam put me into a John Irving phase. So I bought it again. Reassurance in the form of plane reading. Take what you can get.
November 13
NY
If you ever want to appreciate your friends, I highly recommend leaving the country for awhile. I've spent the past few weeks running around, reconnecting with people I haven't spoken to in awhile because I'm about to not speak to them for even longer. It's seems unreal to hug a good friend, smile and say, "I'll see you in a year." At heart, I remain in denial.My plane leaves Monday.
NY
If you ever want to appreciate your friends, I highly recommend leaving the country for awhile. I've spent the past few weeks running around, reconnecting with people I haven't spoken to in awhile because I'm about to not speak to them for even longer. It's seems unreal to hug a good friend, smile and say, "I'll see you in a year." At heart, I remain in denial.My plane leaves Monday.
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