Saturday, December 04, 2004
December 4
I'm starting to be able to pick out the English teachers from the tourists. They're either dressed up for class or they look casual, like they're hanging around the house or something. The tourists tend to either dress like they're at Club Med or they wear cloths from the souvenir shop: t-shirts with the Vietnamese flag or the Tiger beer logo, sometimes accented by a woven or silky something from one of the craft shops. Plus they're usually clutching guides.
Yesterday, I stopped to help a lost foreign teacher downtown, as she was wandering around looking for a restaurant.
"My friend said it's near Reunification Palace, and there's a sign that says 'delicious' in English and Vietnamese, but none of the signs here are in English," she said. So she'd been going around the park, interrupting the couples making out to see any of them spoke English and knew where the restaurant was.
I remember doing things like that. You're lost and feeling a little ridiculous, but it's sort of amusing. Because you're usually a reasonably intelligent person who can take care of yourself, and yet here you are, tromping through a foreign country where you haven't the faintest idea of how to say 'delicious' and so you've really got no alternative but to force snogging teenagers to come up for air and help you. It's pretty funny, actually, and anyway it can't be helped. You're in Saigon and this is part of your adventure.
"It's right there," I said, pointing. She'd been within a quarter block of it the whole time. "See, it says 'an ngon' on the door, that means 'delicious food.'"
And she was fine. You can go far on the kindness of strangers - you get rescued a lot when you have a certain confused look in your eye.
I miss that. My Vietnamese is pretty bad and I can't figure out our electric bill on my own, but I can get to whereever I need to go in the city and I have a good sense of what's normal and what's appropriate. And I know how to say delicious.
It was different when I was here before - by the end, I was at about the same level of competance that I am now, but I knew a lot more Vietnamese people, and what I knew about the language and the country was constantly being stretched by spending time with them. A lot of that was from the university - it's amazing how much community comes with being part of a school. Now that I'm on my own I belong to the city less, I think. And what I do during the day is just the sort of daily living things that I know I can handle.
I wonder how things would have been different if I'd head off in some totally random direction. I've been thinking that when the year is out, if I'm not sick to teaching English I might head off to Prague or Russia or someplace like that. I have no idea how to say "delicious" in Russian.
I'm starting to be able to pick out the English teachers from the tourists. They're either dressed up for class or they look casual, like they're hanging around the house or something. The tourists tend to either dress like they're at Club Med or they wear cloths from the souvenir shop: t-shirts with the Vietnamese flag or the Tiger beer logo, sometimes accented by a woven or silky something from one of the craft shops. Plus they're usually clutching guides.
Yesterday, I stopped to help a lost foreign teacher downtown, as she was wandering around looking for a restaurant.
"My friend said it's near Reunification Palace, and there's a sign that says 'delicious' in English and Vietnamese, but none of the signs here are in English," she said. So she'd been going around the park, interrupting the couples making out to see any of them spoke English and knew where the restaurant was.
I remember doing things like that. You're lost and feeling a little ridiculous, but it's sort of amusing. Because you're usually a reasonably intelligent person who can take care of yourself, and yet here you are, tromping through a foreign country where you haven't the faintest idea of how to say 'delicious' and so you've really got no alternative but to force snogging teenagers to come up for air and help you. It's pretty funny, actually, and anyway it can't be helped. You're in Saigon and this is part of your adventure.
"It's right there," I said, pointing. She'd been within a quarter block of it the whole time. "See, it says 'an ngon' on the door, that means 'delicious food.'"
And she was fine. You can go far on the kindness of strangers - you get rescued a lot when you have a certain confused look in your eye.
I miss that. My Vietnamese is pretty bad and I can't figure out our electric bill on my own, but I can get to whereever I need to go in the city and I have a good sense of what's normal and what's appropriate. And I know how to say delicious.
It was different when I was here before - by the end, I was at about the same level of competance that I am now, but I knew a lot more Vietnamese people, and what I knew about the language and the country was constantly being stretched by spending time with them. A lot of that was from the university - it's amazing how much community comes with being part of a school. Now that I'm on my own I belong to the city less, I think. And what I do during the day is just the sort of daily living things that I know I can handle.
I wonder how things would have been different if I'd head off in some totally random direction. I've been thinking that when the year is out, if I'm not sick to teaching English I might head off to Prague or Russia or someplace like that. I have no idea how to say "delicious" in Russian.
December 3
Back. I feel like I should have more staggering cultural insights to report, but unfortunately studying grammar and teaching isn't all that fascinating. I haven't even been making any weird phone calls to strangers for pizza.
I've been thinking about renting a motorbike. Driving habits here are suicidal, but I feel a little safer driving myself around as I do leaving it to someone else. Plus I think it would be cheaper; we live far enough out that I pretty much have to take a taxi everwhere.
Back. I feel like I should have more staggering cultural insights to report, but unfortunately studying grammar and teaching isn't all that fascinating. I haven't even been making any weird phone calls to strangers for pizza.
I've been thinking about renting a motorbike. Driving habits here are suicidal, but I feel a little safer driving myself around as I do leaving it to someone else. Plus I think it would be cheaper; we live far enough out that I pretty much have to take a taxi everwhere.
December 1
December 1! Is that possible! There's no snow, and I haven't seen any since March or so. Plus it's 80 degrees and sunny with palm trees. I put snowy forrest wallpaper on the computer and TEFL.
Today and yesterday, they let me loose on an actual student. Yesterday, I nearly died of nervousness before she came. I was sure she'd sprout claws and maul me or something. You've got to be careful of those mutant Vietnamese college students. But she was very nice. We were supposed to go over some basic information about her life and then go over her favorites in sports, food, and everything else I could think of, using pictures to help her learn the words. But it turned out she already knew most of the words, so we ended up talking about what she'd written down.
We got along so well that today we spent the first half hour chatting and I had to plow through the actual lesson. I went way too fast. I'll try not to plow in the future.
Still, the fact that I survived an actual student makes me a feel a little better about my chances for life when we go through practice teaching next week.
December 1! Is that possible! There's no snow, and I haven't seen any since March or so. Plus it's 80 degrees and sunny with palm trees. I put snowy forrest wallpaper on the computer and TEFL.
Today and yesterday, they let me loose on an actual student. Yesterday, I nearly died of nervousness before she came. I was sure she'd sprout claws and maul me or something. You've got to be careful of those mutant Vietnamese college students. But she was very nice. We were supposed to go over some basic information about her life and then go over her favorites in sports, food, and everything else I could think of, using pictures to help her learn the words. But it turned out she already knew most of the words, so we ended up talking about what she'd written down.
We got along so well that today we spent the first half hour chatting and I had to plow through the actual lesson. I went way too fast. I'll try not to plow in the future.
Still, the fact that I survived an actual student makes me a feel a little better about my chances for life when we go through practice teaching next week.
Nov. 29
Back in the old neighborhood Trung Nguyen coffee shop. Sorry to have gone so long without updates. I think this is the longest I've gone without writing in my entire Vietnam career. The past few days have been depressing and/or unexciting. Spending Thanksgiving alone in a country that doesn't recognize the holiday is every bit as depressing as it sounds. I know many three other Americans here - two from my TEFL class that I don't know very well, and Molly, who was working all day.
Nash my British instructor was good to me, though; when he heard it was a holiday he called around to the expat hangouts to see if they were doing anything. No one was, but it was a nice gesture. That night I set out in the backpacker district in search of Americans, but the place was strangely deserted. Then I went up to Sheridan's Irish pub, because it's the sort of place where it's easy to strike up a random conversation with a stranger. But on this night, everything was quiet and the people were sitting in clusters that seemed inappropriate. I sat the the bar and had one drink, but there was very little human acknowledgement aside from a sympathetic smile from the friends transgendered doorperson. Some days are just no good.
I did get a nice phone call from my family. Dad says Mom has told everyone she knows about my apartment's admirable fire control system.
This weekend was the perfect combination of fun and vegging. Molly, Thu and I went out to Sheridan's on Saturday night and this time we did find good random conversations. We met a guy from the British consulate, a guy from New Jersey who helped to start the place six years ago, and a tourist from Nottingham, England.
Late that night after most people had left, Molly and I got into a long conversation with Mr. Nottingham about what should happen to Northern Ireland. Molly was saying it should be its own country, Nottingham was saying it should go back to Ireland, and I was saying to should be up to the people who live there. It was one of those fabulous Irish pub conversations that goes on and on and spawned subconversations about who is qualified to say what about what and how much birthright fades with distance and how different countries relate to their American diaspora and so and and so on - the sort of long windy conversations that makes me fond of Irish pubs and Molly.
Today hasn't been terribly exciting. I've just come from the TEFL class on Troung Dinh street, which is just a few blocks from the guesthouse where I lived when I was a student here. It still feels like my neighborhood. A couple of times a week, I go to Trung Nguyen after class. We used to hang out here, and the coffee shop looks exactly the same.
Across the street, they've torn down the yellow wall that used to be there and replaces it with a monstrousity of a seafood restaurant. The building looks vaguely like a house you'd see facing a harbor in Cape Cod, and it's got a statue of big molded shells outside. They've torn up the sidewalk that used to be there; it used to look a little like it had been through an earthquake and now it's a bunch of cute seashell tile. Some of the other buildings on the street have changed too - they're mostly restaurants that are much nicer than they were in '03. Also they're putting up high class apartment buildings downtown with names like "Norfolk Estates" and "Somerset Manor". They've got maid service and New York-style rent. Saigon is gentrifying, I think. The foreigners are pouring in, and people are taking advantage of it. In 20 years, this place could be another South Korea.
Back in the old neighborhood Trung Nguyen coffee shop. Sorry to have gone so long without updates. I think this is the longest I've gone without writing in my entire Vietnam career. The past few days have been depressing and/or unexciting. Spending Thanksgiving alone in a country that doesn't recognize the holiday is every bit as depressing as it sounds. I know many three other Americans here - two from my TEFL class that I don't know very well, and Molly, who was working all day.
Nash my British instructor was good to me, though; when he heard it was a holiday he called around to the expat hangouts to see if they were doing anything. No one was, but it was a nice gesture. That night I set out in the backpacker district in search of Americans, but the place was strangely deserted. Then I went up to Sheridan's Irish pub, because it's the sort of place where it's easy to strike up a random conversation with a stranger. But on this night, everything was quiet and the people were sitting in clusters that seemed inappropriate. I sat the the bar and had one drink, but there was very little human acknowledgement aside from a sympathetic smile from the friends transgendered doorperson. Some days are just no good.
I did get a nice phone call from my family. Dad says Mom has told everyone she knows about my apartment's admirable fire control system.
This weekend was the perfect combination of fun and vegging. Molly, Thu and I went out to Sheridan's on Saturday night and this time we did find good random conversations. We met a guy from the British consulate, a guy from New Jersey who helped to start the place six years ago, and a tourist from Nottingham, England.
Late that night after most people had left, Molly and I got into a long conversation with Mr. Nottingham about what should happen to Northern Ireland. Molly was saying it should be its own country, Nottingham was saying it should go back to Ireland, and I was saying to should be up to the people who live there. It was one of those fabulous Irish pub conversations that goes on and on and spawned subconversations about who is qualified to say what about what and how much birthright fades with distance and how different countries relate to their American diaspora and so and and so on - the sort of long windy conversations that makes me fond of Irish pubs and Molly.
Today hasn't been terribly exciting. I've just come from the TEFL class on Troung Dinh street, which is just a few blocks from the guesthouse where I lived when I was a student here. It still feels like my neighborhood. A couple of times a week, I go to Trung Nguyen after class. We used to hang out here, and the coffee shop looks exactly the same.
Across the street, they've torn down the yellow wall that used to be there and replaces it with a monstrousity of a seafood restaurant. The building looks vaguely like a house you'd see facing a harbor in Cape Cod, and it's got a statue of big molded shells outside. They've torn up the sidewalk that used to be there; it used to look a little like it had been through an earthquake and now it's a bunch of cute seashell tile. Some of the other buildings on the street have changed too - they're mostly restaurants that are much nicer than they were in '03. Also they're putting up high class apartment buildings downtown with names like "Norfolk Estates" and "Somerset Manor". They've got maid service and New York-style rent. Saigon is gentrifying, I think. The foreigners are pouring in, and people are taking advantage of it. In 20 years, this place could be another South Korea.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Nov. 24
Time in Vietnam: one week.
Batting average: 1000.
Nash was telling us today that learning a foreign language is one of the riskiest things a person can do.
"There's great potential to make mistakes and look like an idiot in front of your friends," he said.
Today, Meredith the SIT girl and I decided to order lunch from a restaurant downtown. Usually Chi the office girl calls in orders for the students, but when I asked her to do it she said, "No, you speak Vietnamese, you call." So I picked up the phone and dialled.
"Hi," I said in Vietnamese to the guy who answered. "I'd like a pizza."
He said something I didn't understand. Then he said, "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," I said.
"Address," he said in English.
So I gave him the address.
"No," he said. "Phone number."
And I tried to give him the phone number, but he hung up. Feeling like a complete dork, I asked Chi to call the restaurant. She put in our order with no problem. And then she asked if they had had trouble understanding the foreigner who just called. They were confused.
"No foreigner called," they said. Yup. I'd dialled the wrong number. I had been trying to order pizza from some guy in his apartment.
Living in a foreign country is great protection against taking yourself seriously.
In other news, I've decided to go by "Kate" full time. Actually a lot of people already call me that - most of my family and some of my friends. It's already sort of my name. A lot of Vietnamese people can't pronouce "Katie" and it tends to get corrupted to "Kelly", which is definitely not my name. Also British people pronouce "Katie" so differently that I often can't tell they're talking to me. So it will be Kate all around.
Time in Vietnam: one week.
Batting average: 1000.
Nash was telling us today that learning a foreign language is one of the riskiest things a person can do.
"There's great potential to make mistakes and look like an idiot in front of your friends," he said.
Today, Meredith the SIT girl and I decided to order lunch from a restaurant downtown. Usually Chi the office girl calls in orders for the students, but when I asked her to do it she said, "No, you speak Vietnamese, you call." So I picked up the phone and dialled.
"Hi," I said in Vietnamese to the guy who answered. "I'd like a pizza."
He said something I didn't understand. Then he said, "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," I said.
"Address," he said in English.
So I gave him the address.
"No," he said. "Phone number."
And I tried to give him the phone number, but he hung up. Feeling like a complete dork, I asked Chi to call the restaurant. She put in our order with no problem. And then she asked if they had had trouble understanding the foreigner who just called. They were confused.
"No foreigner called," they said. Yup. I'd dialled the wrong number. I had been trying to order pizza from some guy in his apartment.
Living in a foreign country is great protection against taking yourself seriously.
In other news, I've decided to go by "Kate" full time. Actually a lot of people already call me that - most of my family and some of my friends. It's already sort of my name. A lot of Vietnamese people can't pronouce "Katie" and it tends to get corrupted to "Kelly", which is definitely not my name. Also British people pronouce "Katie" so differently that I often can't tell they're talking to me. So it will be Kate all around.
Nov. 22
Presenting the following Vietnam dialogue:
Molly says: Let's go eat at the restaurant downstairs.
Katie says: No, I don't like them, they tried to rip me off this morning.
Molly says: I tried boycotting places that did that, but I was running out of places to eat."
Forget what I said earlier about masking tape. Much of what I affixed to the wall has come crashing down. It is a disappointing adhesive.
Today was my first day of Teaching English as a Foreign Language class. I think it'll be a good experience. We spent today experimenting with different ways of explaining a foreign language to people without using any of their native language. It's visual, with a lot more gestures and photos. People can figure out a lot on their own as long as they know the context of the situation (i.e. a bank, a bus station). Our instructor gave us a sample lesson in Thai so that we could experience learning a language this way. I can now order a bus ticket to Udan Thani.
My class is very small; I've heard it's the smallest they've had. Our instructor is Nash, a late 20s-ish Welsh guy who taught in Thailand for five years. He's got an interesting accent and enjoys going off on different theories of language acquisition and why it's better to learn in a group than alone.
I thought the class would be full of recent college grads like me, but there are only two others like that. One is cool Vietnamese/Chinese girl from San Diego who came here because she got tired of working for an insurance company. The other is an SIT Samoa alum from Colorado. She's classic SIT, down to the baggy shorts and vegetarianism.
The rest of the class is more eclectic - there's a girl named Ly from Hanoi who has been teaching English for several years and came here to improve her skills and a guy from Nigeria who has been travelling and teaching English for eight years. Then there's a South African businessman's wife who is taking TEFL because she's bored with just hanging out in Vung Tao city. She's got 20-25 years on most of us, but she's very interested in talking to us. She speaks high British English, whereas Nash's English is much less formal and has been infiltrated with Americanisms. But when he's talking to her, Nash's accent ratchets up several notches and all of a sudden he sounds like the Prince of Wales.
I found myself getting unduely defensive of American English today. Mark the Nigerian was putting it down, and I swooped in with a long tirade in defense of my native language. The gist of it was "A language properly belongs to the people who use and, and there are 280 million of us and and 80 million people in Britain, so let's put the definition of 'proper English' to a vote. Plus most movies and TV are in American. So THERE."
I need to calm down. It's not like it's a big deal. Come to think of it, it would be amusing if I taught each of my classes to speak with a distinct regional accent. I could cause 30 people to run around the city drawling out y'alls, while somewhere 30 other people speak to tourists in Brooklynese. That would rule.
Presenting the following Vietnam dialogue:
Molly says: Let's go eat at the restaurant downstairs.
Katie says: No, I don't like them, they tried to rip me off this morning.
Molly says: I tried boycotting places that did that, but I was running out of places to eat."
Forget what I said earlier about masking tape. Much of what I affixed to the wall has come crashing down. It is a disappointing adhesive.
Today was my first day of Teaching English as a Foreign Language class. I think it'll be a good experience. We spent today experimenting with different ways of explaining a foreign language to people without using any of their native language. It's visual, with a lot more gestures and photos. People can figure out a lot on their own as long as they know the context of the situation (i.e. a bank, a bus station). Our instructor gave us a sample lesson in Thai so that we could experience learning a language this way. I can now order a bus ticket to Udan Thani.
My class is very small; I've heard it's the smallest they've had. Our instructor is Nash, a late 20s-ish Welsh guy who taught in Thailand for five years. He's got an interesting accent and enjoys going off on different theories of language acquisition and why it's better to learn in a group than alone.
I thought the class would be full of recent college grads like me, but there are only two others like that. One is cool Vietnamese/Chinese girl from San Diego who came here because she got tired of working for an insurance company. The other is an SIT Samoa alum from Colorado. She's classic SIT, down to the baggy shorts and vegetarianism.
The rest of the class is more eclectic - there's a girl named Ly from Hanoi who has been teaching English for several years and came here to improve her skills and a guy from Nigeria who has been travelling and teaching English for eight years. Then there's a South African businessman's wife who is taking TEFL because she's bored with just hanging out in Vung Tao city. She's got 20-25 years on most of us, but she's very interested in talking to us. She speaks high British English, whereas Nash's English is much less formal and has been infiltrated with Americanisms. But when he's talking to her, Nash's accent ratchets up several notches and all of a sudden he sounds like the Prince of Wales.
I found myself getting unduely defensive of American English today. Mark the Nigerian was putting it down, and I swooped in with a long tirade in defense of my native language. The gist of it was "A language properly belongs to the people who use and, and there are 280 million of us and and 80 million people in Britain, so let's put the definition of 'proper English' to a vote. Plus most movies and TV are in American. So THERE."
I need to calm down. It's not like it's a big deal. Come to think of it, it would be amusing if I taught each of my classes to speak with a distinct regional accent. I could cause 30 people to run around the city drawling out y'alls, while somewhere 30 other people speak to tourists in Brooklynese. That would rule.
Nov. 21
I could use a New England winter right now. Brick buildings and snow and bare trees and scarves and snow sticking to the treads of your boots. Slush puddles inside. I missed the snow this year.
This weekend has been very low key. I decorated. I had a copy of Seven Days, a Cosmo for Thu, some ribbon, and some photos from my graduation. It turned out pretty well. I took interesting ads out of the Cosmo and taped them to the wall. Ditto with the Seven Days. Then I framed the pictures with taped ribbon and stuck them up as well. They're purple and green. It's a nice effect. Masking tape will never be duct tape, but it's easier to peel and doesn't stick to walls.
I could use a New England winter right now. Brick buildings and snow and bare trees and scarves and snow sticking to the treads of your boots. Slush puddles inside. I missed the snow this year.
This weekend has been very low key. I decorated. I had a copy of Seven Days, a Cosmo for Thu, some ribbon, and some photos from my graduation. It turned out pretty well. I took interesting ads out of the Cosmo and taped them to the wall. Ditto with the Seven Days. Then I framed the pictures with taped ribbon and stuck them up as well. They're purple and green. It's a nice effect. Masking tape will never be duct tape, but it's easier to peel and doesn't stick to walls.
Editor's note: I am one of the most sentimental people that I know. Before I left college, I took a picture of my mailbox so I'd remember what good old 1911 looks like. Thus I think it's only fair to warn you that when I wrote this during my first visit back to my favorite restaurant from '03 I was positively stewing in nostalgia.
Nov. 19
Back at the Bodhi Tree! Everything is the same - same menus, same art on the walls. I remember sitting here a year and a half ago with Sarah and thinking that I couldn't believe I'd be leaving this place. And now I'm back, sipping coconut sinh to and looking at Margerita Italian-type restaurant across the street.
There's a stereotypical lone young blond guy with a beer and a backpack sitting a few tables away from me. Two tables of actual Vietnamese people, perhaps the only actual Vietnamese people in Pham Ngu Lao. The Chinese owner who used to love us because my friends talked to her in Cantonese. I think she recognizes me a little; she smiled when she saw me and quotes me prices in Vietnamese. Hai the waiter who used to call me "older sister" is gone. The ever-present little girls remain, walking around with plastic covered stacks of Lonely Planets that are higher than they are.
I remember when I used to eat here during my last month with my Katie Advisory Board (Molly and Sarah, the two people who didn't leave during SARS.) I used to order everything on the menu because I know how much I'd miss it.
It's funny how many of my memories revolve around food. It was such a regular thing - we ate out all the time and we'd have great conversations. I remember little bits of them - at the beginning of the trip, four of my friends taught me how to eat rice with chopsticks. It was one of the most useful lessons I got for living here. Later on, Sarah and I used to throw a coin at a map of Saigon and go eat whereever it landed. This is where I got my first exposure to crow wine. And sometimes I went out by myself; I remember Grace telling me that in order to be a truely fabulous woman I had to be able to eat in restaurants by myself. ("And I can do it without reading material!" she said.) I've got writing material right now. I wonder if that's cheating?
Nov. 19
Back at the Bodhi Tree! Everything is the same - same menus, same art on the walls. I remember sitting here a year and a half ago with Sarah and thinking that I couldn't believe I'd be leaving this place. And now I'm back, sipping coconut sinh to and looking at Margerita Italian-type restaurant across the street.
There's a stereotypical lone young blond guy with a beer and a backpack sitting a few tables away from me. Two tables of actual Vietnamese people, perhaps the only actual Vietnamese people in Pham Ngu Lao. The Chinese owner who used to love us because my friends talked to her in Cantonese. I think she recognizes me a little; she smiled when she saw me and quotes me prices in Vietnamese. Hai the waiter who used to call me "older sister" is gone. The ever-present little girls remain, walking around with plastic covered stacks of Lonely Planets that are higher than they are.
I remember when I used to eat here during my last month with my Katie Advisory Board (Molly and Sarah, the two people who didn't leave during SARS.) I used to order everything on the menu because I know how much I'd miss it.
It's funny how many of my memories revolve around food. It was such a regular thing - we ate out all the time and we'd have great conversations. I remember little bits of them - at the beginning of the trip, four of my friends taught me how to eat rice with chopsticks. It was one of the most useful lessons I got for living here. Later on, Sarah and I used to throw a coin at a map of Saigon and go eat whereever it landed. This is where I got my first exposure to crow wine. And sometimes I went out by myself; I remember Grace telling me that in order to be a truely fabulous woman I had to be able to eat in restaurants by myself. ("And I can do it without reading material!" she said.) I've got writing material right now. I wonder if that's cheating?
Saturday, November 20, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Monday, July 07, 2003
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
June 6 or 7 (not sure - International Dateline)
Over the Pacific past Japan
We just took off from the airport in Taipei. This was the first time that I've worn a SARS mask. They handed out surgeon's masks and antibacterial cleaner to everyone on the plane. I've also had to fill out several SARS surveys ("Do you have a fever? Are you coughing") for Vietnam and Taiwan. Only a few people were wearing SARS masks in the Saigon airport, but tons of people were wearing them in Taiwan.
To recap the last couple days, I spent some time with Thu and her Bulgarian friend from last semester, Eugenia. Eugenia's staying at Thu's house, and in Vietnam if you have foreigners staying at your house who are not registered with the police, you must pay a $200 fine. Or you can pay $20 to the guy who comes around and checks so that he will go away. Molly's boyfriend pays a similar individual 50,000 dong a month to overlook the fact that he doesn't have a permit to be in the city. Eugenia's here on a tourist visa, and technically tourists have to live in hotels. At first the police were putting up a huge fight about it. They spent an afternoon in bureaucratic hassles until they found someone who could fix the situation. Being a policeman in Vietnam is quite lucrative.
That evening, I hung out with Phuong and Phuong in Molly's room, just talking and hanging out. It was fun; it would have been sadder but I am in major denial. I am so happy in Ho Chi Minh City, hanging out with Molly and Sarah and Thu and Phuong.
I've spent all morning dealing with ISP printing and binding issues. Computers love to revolt when you have more important things to do. My paper is called "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers: my experiences studying theater in Ho Chi Minh City" It's an overview of the major types of theater, as well as descriptions of my experiences. It's fun. I'll post it online sometime.
June 5 we had our ISP presentations. This is supposed to be when SIT students come in from all over the country and tell their experiences to each other. My audience consisted of Molly, the SIT program staff, Thu, and Eugenia. Sarah had to leave to catch a plane right after her presentation, and I didn't get to say a proper good-bye to her. Just a hand-squeeze. I'm mentioned in her paper as the following: "The nuns [Buddhist nuns who practice traditional medicine] told me that domestic abuse is a major problem. They told me they advise the women to speak softly and kindly to their husbands and try to work things out, that divorce will cause more pain and won't solve anything. When I mentioned this to an American friend, she was furious. "How do they know? They've never been married...." Yeah that was me. I'm really not going to miss that aspect of Vietnamese culture. Although I think American women as treated as sort of a third gender - we're not men, obviously, but we're people who have different expectations of how we will be treated.
So I gave my presentation, and then we had a re-adjustment talk with Stu. He gave us the letters we wrote to ourselves at the beginning of the semester. I sounded just like the backpackers I detest. "So many things are strange to me - the cyclos and smog masks and motorbikes." Now I have regular xe om drivers who know me, and I know the city.
I went out with my digital camera on my last afternoon. I took pictures of Dai Ket and my neighborhood and wandered downtown. I ended up on the roof of the Caravelle, which is a great place to see the city.
We had a dinner with all the regular SIT program staff, and the Vietnamese students who hang out with us. A random assortment of other people - the Vietnamese teacher I had for 2 days, Dr Lich from the university. Beforehand, I went out for coffee with Phuong and Molly. Phuong asked what kind of coffee I was drinking and then said something quickly to the waitress. She returned with a bag of coffee for me - a present from Phuong. Phuong also gave me 3 bracelets and a star-shaped CD for luck. Ug! I'm going to miss her. Then Molly and I tried to go to Sheridan's for drinks, but it closed just as we got there and we went to the Caravelle instead. Only one drink, they are stupidly high priced, and we sat looking down at the city.
Then we went home and I pretty much stayed awake for most of the night, until Crytal arrived from her mom's hometown in the south-central part of the country. So we talked and I ended up getting 2 hours of sleep. I got up the next morning and got a Dai Ket bill that I didn't have the cash to pay, so I had to make an emergency run with Thu and her motorbike to th eATM. Then I had to say a tearful good-bye to Phuong, and Crystal, Molly, Thu, Tang, and Stu took me to the airport. Thu brought me some of the candy she always gave me on field trips. It was horrible saying good-bye to everyone.
We got to Singapore (no one wanted a photo with me this time) and I heard a boarding call for HCMC. I was so tempted to run over the the counter and spent the rest of my money on going back there. I have been such amazing people and made such great friends. I keep joking with people that I will go work in Kich noi and play the parts they sometimes have for a French or Russian girl. Why use someone with painted-on European features when you can have the real thing. It's a pipe dream, I know. I love theater in VN; there's so much comradery and people take themselves less seriously. It's the way to should be. Hanging out with and talking to artists is making me realize how much I miss that myself. It's forcing me to re-examine my priorities...again. I guess that's study abroad for you.
Over the Pacific past Japan
We just took off from the airport in Taipei. This was the first time that I've worn a SARS mask. They handed out surgeon's masks and antibacterial cleaner to everyone on the plane. I've also had to fill out several SARS surveys ("Do you have a fever? Are you coughing") for Vietnam and Taiwan. Only a few people were wearing SARS masks in the Saigon airport, but tons of people were wearing them in Taiwan.
To recap the last couple days, I spent some time with Thu and her Bulgarian friend from last semester, Eugenia. Eugenia's staying at Thu's house, and in Vietnam if you have foreigners staying at your house who are not registered with the police, you must pay a $200 fine. Or you can pay $20 to the guy who comes around and checks so that he will go away. Molly's boyfriend pays a similar individual 50,000 dong a month to overlook the fact that he doesn't have a permit to be in the city. Eugenia's here on a tourist visa, and technically tourists have to live in hotels. At first the police were putting up a huge fight about it. They spent an afternoon in bureaucratic hassles until they found someone who could fix the situation. Being a policeman in Vietnam is quite lucrative.
That evening, I hung out with Phuong and Phuong in Molly's room, just talking and hanging out. It was fun; it would have been sadder but I am in major denial. I am so happy in Ho Chi Minh City, hanging out with Molly and Sarah and Thu and Phuong.
I've spent all morning dealing with ISP printing and binding issues. Computers love to revolt when you have more important things to do. My paper is called "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers: my experiences studying theater in Ho Chi Minh City" It's an overview of the major types of theater, as well as descriptions of my experiences. It's fun. I'll post it online sometime.
June 5 we had our ISP presentations. This is supposed to be when SIT students come in from all over the country and tell their experiences to each other. My audience consisted of Molly, the SIT program staff, Thu, and Eugenia. Sarah had to leave to catch a plane right after her presentation, and I didn't get to say a proper good-bye to her. Just a hand-squeeze. I'm mentioned in her paper as the following: "The nuns [Buddhist nuns who practice traditional medicine] told me that domestic abuse is a major problem. They told me they advise the women to speak softly and kindly to their husbands and try to work things out, that divorce will cause more pain and won't solve anything. When I mentioned this to an American friend, she was furious. "How do they know? They've never been married...." Yeah that was me. I'm really not going to miss that aspect of Vietnamese culture. Although I think American women as treated as sort of a third gender - we're not men, obviously, but we're people who have different expectations of how we will be treated.
So I gave my presentation, and then we had a re-adjustment talk with Stu. He gave us the letters we wrote to ourselves at the beginning of the semester. I sounded just like the backpackers I detest. "So many things are strange to me - the cyclos and smog masks and motorbikes." Now I have regular xe om drivers who know me, and I know the city.
I went out with my digital camera on my last afternoon. I took pictures of Dai Ket and my neighborhood and wandered downtown. I ended up on the roof of the Caravelle, which is a great place to see the city.
We had a dinner with all the regular SIT program staff, and the Vietnamese students who hang out with us. A random assortment of other people - the Vietnamese teacher I had for 2 days, Dr Lich from the university. Beforehand, I went out for coffee with Phuong and Molly. Phuong asked what kind of coffee I was drinking and then said something quickly to the waitress. She returned with a bag of coffee for me - a present from Phuong. Phuong also gave me 3 bracelets and a star-shaped CD for luck. Ug! I'm going to miss her. Then Molly and I tried to go to Sheridan's for drinks, but it closed just as we got there and we went to the Caravelle instead. Only one drink, they are stupidly high priced, and we sat looking down at the city.
Then we went home and I pretty much stayed awake for most of the night, until Crytal arrived from her mom's hometown in the south-central part of the country. So we talked and I ended up getting 2 hours of sleep. I got up the next morning and got a Dai Ket bill that I didn't have the cash to pay, so I had to make an emergency run with Thu and her motorbike to th eATM. Then I had to say a tearful good-bye to Phuong, and Crystal, Molly, Thu, Tang, and Stu took me to the airport. Thu brought me some of the candy she always gave me on field trips. It was horrible saying good-bye to everyone.
We got to Singapore (no one wanted a photo with me this time) and I heard a boarding call for HCMC. I was so tempted to run over the the counter and spent the rest of my money on going back there. I have been such amazing people and made such great friends. I keep joking with people that I will go work in Kich noi and play the parts they sometimes have for a French or Russian girl. Why use someone with painted-on European features when you can have the real thing. It's a pipe dream, I know. I love theater in VN; there's so much comradery and people take themselves less seriously. It's the way to should be. Hanging out with and talking to artists is making me realize how much I miss that myself. It's forcing me to re-examine my priorities...again. I guess that's study abroad for you.
June 6 Tay Son Nhat Airport
Saigon
Here I am, the end of the road at last, waiting for the plane to take me away. I've been counting down the hours since last night, when Molly and I sat on top of the Caravelle looking down at the city. It seemed the thing to do, but really there is no fitting way to leave. I don't want to go. Crystal got back in town last night at 5 am, and she asked me to change my ticket to stay another few days. But really another few days are useless. I really need another year or more. And now we're boarding. Here I go...
Saigon
Here I am, the end of the road at last, waiting for the plane to take me away. I've been counting down the hours since last night, when Molly and I sat on top of the Caravelle looking down at the city. It seemed the thing to do, but really there is no fitting way to leave. I don't want to go. Crystal got back in town last night at 5 am, and she asked me to change my ticket to stay another few days. But really another few days are useless. I really need another year or more. And now we're boarding. Here I go...
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