Back in June, pre-Nam, I met a very handsome gentleman in New York. Before I left we said, “Hey, no biggie! 10 months apart will be fine. It’ll feel like nothin’.”
And now I’ve been gone for almost 3 months and it has felt, well, like a really really long time. I know. Its all horribly dramatic. Blah Blah.
People are always telling me how “old fashioned” and “romantic” it sounds, and I think, “Yeah, the romance is astounding. I’m sitting alone in Hai Duong with hives from an allergic reaction to mosquito bites and he’s sitting alone at a bar in NY drinking Scotch, eating peanuts and bemoaning the woman who left him for Asia.” (I don’t think he actually does this. I just like to pretend he does.)
Regardless, today Scott is coming to Vietnam for 2 weeks. Yay! So I will not be updating as I will be busy introducing him to my friends, escorting him to Hanoi, Hai Duong, and Sa Pa, and trying to take as many silly pictures of him in bizarre Vietnamese situations as possible. Its going to be fun....hopefully so fun that he’ll never leave me again.
(Yes, I know. I left him. But let’s not play the blame game, OK?)
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Bug Juice
Here's the thing about bug juice:
Its fun when its another name for fruit punch at summer camp.
Its not as fun when its from an actual bug, a Vietnamese bug, and you kill said bug while its sitting on your arm, and said bug juice is poisonous or acidic or something and gives you a nasty comet-shaped allergic reaction, which your Vietnamese boss then tries to treat by chewing up dry rice and slathering the salivy poultice all over your arm before you can say--"But didn't you think you had swine flu last week?!", and the glutinous-spit still doesn't work, so you have to go to the doctor, but the good news is that you don't have an actual dangerous skin eating infection or anything, and the now already lessening Halley's Comet on your arm will clear up in 10 days or less.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Jeans Shopping in Vietnam....or, Maddie Got Back
This morning I woke up to cooler gusts courtesy of Tropical Storm Parma. Great! I thought. A break from the heat. I put on some cargo shorts and a zip up jacket and headed down to the English office to get some work done. By the time I had reached the office at 9am, 3 people had already asked me if I was cold, and by 9:30am Mrs. Huyen had come into the office and announced that she had a plan.
“At 10am I will come get you on my motorbike and we will go shopping to buy you some pants.” And then she gestured to my legs and shook her head in anxious concern.
Apparently, wearing shorts on a day when the temperature dips below 75 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit was a big faux pas and simply verified for everyone once again how incapable I am of taking care of myself here in Vietnam.
Truth is, I did significantly under pack as far as cold weather clothes are concerned. In the North of Vietnam the weather will get into the 40s and 50s, but the humidity stays so high that apparently its bone chilling. I knew at some point I was going to have to find a way to buy another pair of jeans or a sweater, but the thought of going shopping here myself is pretty daunting. Before I left, my sister Alix told me that maybe I could find a Gap since their clothes are made in Vietnam. Good theory, Al, but no such luck. I decided I should take Mrs. Huyen up on her plan.
Ok. So here it is. I am not fat. I have never been fat. As a matter of fact, I am fairly small and athletically built. But I guarantee that no store in Hai Duong City, Vietnam has seen the likes of a derriere or quads like mine. Until today. And it was quite a show.
On the ride to the store, I voiced some of my concerns to Mrs. Huyen.
Oh, Fan-tas-tic.
We go into the store and immediately there are about 5 people clamoring to help me. They lift up the tail end of my shirt to get a better view of my butt from about 12 inches away and its like they've seen the 8th wonder of the world. Now, I can't understand them, but they are speaking quickly and with great fervor. I imagine they're saying something like, "How does it get like THAT? Its so round, but still high and firm. What the hell are we supposed to do with it?"
Well, they dig out the only 4 pairs of jeans in the store that they think will fit me. They do fit, but they are all super skinny, which are pretty much the most unflattering jeans man ever invented, especially on someone who is 5’1” and semi-bow legged. Mrs. Huyen also thinks that at 280 VND, about $15, they are too expensive. We head to the next store. Here, Mrs. Huyen says something to the sales girl in Vietnamese, who then takes one look at me and shakes her head emphatically. Thank God my Vietnamese isn’t good enough to understand that exchange; I don’t think my ego could take it. I was only able to surmise that they definitely did not have my size. Finally, we go to the last store, and by some miracle of God the first pair of jeans I try on are actually too big. I am thrilled. I then find a dark washed pair that fit pretty well and, wouldn’t you know!, are Gucci! For only $11.00! I know they are Gucci because that’s what the metal tag on the back rhinestoned pocket says....
In all seriousness, they are some of the best fitting jeans I’ve ever bought, and I kind of love them. And please don’t worry--my self-esteem is really not shaken by the events of today. People here are just honest, and that can be pretty refreshing. I also think I am lucky to have so many people around who want to take care of me, even if its in their own Vietnamese way.
“At 10am I will come get you on my motorbike and we will go shopping to buy you some pants.” And then she gestured to my legs and shook her head in anxious concern.
Apparently, wearing shorts on a day when the temperature dips below 75 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit was a big faux pas and simply verified for everyone once again how incapable I am of taking care of myself here in Vietnam.
Truth is, I did significantly under pack as far as cold weather clothes are concerned. In the North of Vietnam the weather will get into the 40s and 50s, but the humidity stays so high that apparently its bone chilling. I knew at some point I was going to have to find a way to buy another pair of jeans or a sweater, but the thought of going shopping here myself is pretty daunting. Before I left, my sister Alix told me that maybe I could find a Gap since their clothes are made in Vietnam. Good theory, Al, but no such luck. I decided I should take Mrs. Huyen up on her plan.
Ok. So here it is. I am not fat. I have never been fat. As a matter of fact, I am fairly small and athletically built. But I guarantee that no store in Hai Duong City, Vietnam has seen the likes of a derriere or quads like mine. Until today. And it was quite a show.
On the ride to the store, I voiced some of my concerns to Mrs. Huyen.
“You know, I’m a little bigger than most Vietnamese women.”
“Yes. You are big, but maybe it is OK because you are not very tall. And you are not as fat as most Americans.”
(This was her attempt at allaying my fears.)
“OK. Well do you think they will have jeans that fit me?”
“Yes. Perhaps their largest size will fit you.”
“Yes. You are big, but maybe it is OK because you are not very tall. And you are not as fat as most Americans.”
(This was her attempt at allaying my fears.)
“OK. Well do you think they will have jeans that fit me?”
“Yes. Perhaps their largest size will fit you.”
Oh, Fan-tas-tic.
We go into the store and immediately there are about 5 people clamoring to help me. They lift up the tail end of my shirt to get a better view of my butt from about 12 inches away and its like they've seen the 8th wonder of the world. Now, I can't understand them, but they are speaking quickly and with great fervor. I imagine they're saying something like, "How does it get like THAT? Its so round, but still high and firm. What the hell are we supposed to do with it?"
Well, they dig out the only 4 pairs of jeans in the store that they think will fit me. They do fit, but they are all super skinny, which are pretty much the most unflattering jeans man ever invented, especially on someone who is 5’1” and semi-bow legged. Mrs. Huyen also thinks that at 280 VND, about $15, they are too expensive. We head to the next store. Here, Mrs. Huyen says something to the sales girl in Vietnamese, who then takes one look at me and shakes her head emphatically. Thank God my Vietnamese isn’t good enough to understand that exchange; I don’t think my ego could take it. I was only able to surmise that they definitely did not have my size. Finally, we go to the last store, and by some miracle of God the first pair of jeans I try on are actually too big. I am thrilled. I then find a dark washed pair that fit pretty well and, wouldn’t you know!, are Gucci! For only $11.00! I know they are Gucci because that’s what the metal tag on the back rhinestoned pocket says....
In all seriousness, they are some of the best fitting jeans I’ve ever bought, and I kind of love them. And please don’t worry--my self-esteem is really not shaken by the events of today. People here are just honest, and that can be pretty refreshing. I also think I am lucky to have so many people around who want to take care of me, even if its in their own Vietnamese way.
And truth be told, I still really like my American butt.
Vietnam can’t change that.
Vietnam can’t change that.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A play, a play! Let's do a play!
I really wanted to start doing some theater with my students, and I thought the easiest way would be to have one class perform a short skit on the given theme at each monthly English Club meeting. This month’s English Club theme was Vietnamese Women’s Day.
Vietnam has some pretty hard core women in their history. I’m talking 17 year old girls who rode elephants and lead armies and supposedly had 3 breasts.
I modified the idea slightly, and with the help of Nga and Son wrote a short script with 12 characters. The premise was still that all the most famous women were meeting for a small party, but we would only show the arrival of each woman and a brief interview with the MC. If I do say so myself, it turned out really well. The girls loved doing it, and I loved having the chance to share theater with them. Remember when theater was the biggest thing in my life and I worked on Broadway? Crazy...Can’t say I don’t miss those days, which makes it even more special to share any part of theater with my students.
There were the few usual snafus that come with show-biz. The night before we went on, the actress playing Vo Thi Sau--a Joan of Ark-type 14 year old soldier in the Revolution against the French--had a meltdown and tried to quit the play by telling me she would be “very busy with a headache” the next night and didn’t think she could perform. There were tears and a pep-talk from yours’ truly on how tough it can be to be an actor, but I’m happy to say she came through and gave a great performance. All the girls did, and I am so proud of them.
I also learned a lot doing this. When we were brainstorming what women to include in the play, I got pretty much the run-down of who’s who of awesome Vietnamese ladies. Nearly all of the women which my students deemed most important were involved in a war or led an army--not surprising when you look at the amount of time Vietnam was at war throughout history. The girls got a little quiet when the American/Vietnam War came up, but I told them we could talk about it as much as they wanted. I also said they could ask me any questions they had about America and the war, and I would try to answer.
The only question they asked was “What does America think of Vietnam today?”
It was pretty poignant to be talking about all of this history--a history which the students are fiercely proud of--and the only question they really had was about Vietnam and the world today. That really pretty much sums up the Vietnamese people that I’ve met: reverent about the past, but only looking forward.
Nga as the Emcee and Son as Dang Thuy Tram--a famous female doctor killed in the war with America. She kept a diary about the war which was found by an American soldier. A few years ago he brought it back to her family in Vietnam and it was published.
Thuy as Vo Thi Sau, the teenage revolutionary, and Linh as Trieu, who rallied an army of men against the Chinese and rode an elephant into battle.
Me with Toan post-performance. She was one of the Trung Sisters, who together led the first rebellion against the Chinese and reigned as Kings. (Not Queens. KINGS.)
Vietnam has some pretty hard core women in their history. I’m talking 17 year old girls who rode elephants and lead armies and supposedly had 3 breasts.
HARD. CORE.
I thought a good idea would be to write a short play that included 6 or 7 of the most famous women from Vietnam history. At first, I was going to have the play be about a dinner party where all of the famous women from history were the guests. I really thought this was inspired until I realized I had seen it before in TOP GIRLS, and maybe channeling Caryl Churchill for the first dramatic production was a bit ambitious.I modified the idea slightly, and with the help of Nga and Son wrote a short script with 12 characters. The premise was still that all the most famous women were meeting for a small party, but we would only show the arrival of each woman and a brief interview with the MC. If I do say so myself, it turned out really well. The girls loved doing it, and I loved having the chance to share theater with them. Remember when theater was the biggest thing in my life and I worked on Broadway? Crazy...Can’t say I don’t miss those days, which makes it even more special to share any part of theater with my students.
There were the few usual snafus that come with show-biz. The night before we went on, the actress playing Vo Thi Sau--a Joan of Ark-type 14 year old soldier in the Revolution against the French--had a meltdown and tried to quit the play by telling me she would be “very busy with a headache” the next night and didn’t think she could perform. There were tears and a pep-talk from yours’ truly on how tough it can be to be an actor, but I’m happy to say she came through and gave a great performance. All the girls did, and I am so proud of them.
I also learned a lot doing this. When we were brainstorming what women to include in the play, I got pretty much the run-down of who’s who of awesome Vietnamese ladies. Nearly all of the women which my students deemed most important were involved in a war or led an army--not surprising when you look at the amount of time Vietnam was at war throughout history. The girls got a little quiet when the American/Vietnam War came up, but I told them we could talk about it as much as they wanted. I also said they could ask me any questions they had about America and the war, and I would try to answer.
The only question they asked was “What does America think of Vietnam today?”
It was pretty poignant to be talking about all of this history--a history which the students are fiercely proud of--and the only question they really had was about Vietnam and the world today. That really pretty much sums up the Vietnamese people that I’ve met: reverent about the past, but only looking forward.
I couldn't get many pictures, but I did try to get a few.
Nga as the Emcee and Son as Dang Thuy Tram--a famous female doctor killed in the war with America. She kept a diary about the war which was found by an American soldier. A few years ago he brought it back to her family in Vietnam and it was published.
Thuy as Vo Thi Sau, the teenage revolutionary, and Linh as Trieu, who rallied an army of men against the Chinese and rode an elephant into battle.
Me with Toan post-performance. She was one of the Trung Sisters, who together led the first rebellion against the Chinese and reigned as Kings. (Not Queens. KINGS.)Saturday, October 10, 2009
A Collision
First, let me tell you I’m fine.
Second, let me tell you I got hit by a motorbike in Hanoi this weekend.
I was crossing the street--the same street, as a matter of fact, in this video--and I was overall feeling rather capable and confident. Yes, I had looked both ways. I always look both ways, and have since I was 3 years old and my momma told me to. But in Vietnam, the things you have always believed--like looking left and right prevents collisions with moving vehicles--just don’t hold up.
Here’s the play by play: I step into the street and look left. I see motorbikes coming in my general direction, but we make eye contact so I assume they’ll avoid me and I start forward. I get halfway into the street, and I continue to look both left and right. No problem. Once I am about 3/4 of the way through the street, I focus my attention on three encroaching motorbikes on my right side and make eye contact with them to ensure they see me and slow down/ go around me. I am just about to the other side, still looking right, when WHAM I get hit from my left.
The driver had apparently made a very tight left turn, thus putting him on the wrong side of the road and running him right into me. Luckily he wasn’t going very fast, so rather than really slam into me he more just shoved me and carried me, still upright, a few steps. He then started yelling at me in Vietnamese; what he said I have no idea. I assume it was something along the lines of “You stupid tourist/American/woman.”
I really wasn’t hurt at all, but I will say the living shit was successfully scared out of me. Getting “shoved” by a motorbike is kind of like getting kicked in the face with a soccer ball. No matter how tough , no matter how dedicated to staying in the game, you’re gonna cry. And I did. Alone on the streets of Hanoi. With lots of male motorbike taxi drivers watching me and asking me if I wanted a ride. But I didn’t want a ride! I wanted to punch every man on a motorbike in the face! However, figuring I had already made a big enough scene--stopping traffic, sobbing recklessly in public-- I chose not to assault any nearby xe om drivers and instead made the decision to do the only thing you can really do to comfort yourself in a situation like that: go shopping. I thought I remembered there was a Calvin Klein somewhere nearby and headed in its general direction, figuring if new underwear couldn’t make me feel better nothing could.
I was still recovering and feeling sorry for myself when I walked past an old Vietnamese man on a bench by Hoan Kiem Lake. As I neared him I saw him readjust his position, lift his left butt cheek, and then just as I passed by he farted right at me. I think that was God’s way of telling me to stop taking myself so damn seriously.
I never found Calvin Klein, but I did find an English bookstore, a Clinique, the wine store, an Apple store, and a little old lady who sold Vietnamese paper dolls on the side of the steet.
I bought a lot of things. If Vietnam is serious about improving its economy, it really should start encouraging motorbikes to hit-without-maiming more Westerners.
The reason I was in Hanoi this weekend was simple: Meet up with some friends and eat a Cheeseburger at the one burger joint in Hanoi. Despite a brush with motorbike injury/death, success was had.
The Inhale
The Friends
Second, let me tell you I got hit by a motorbike in Hanoi this weekend.
I was crossing the street--the same street, as a matter of fact, in this video--and I was overall feeling rather capable and confident. Yes, I had looked both ways. I always look both ways, and have since I was 3 years old and my momma told me to. But in Vietnam, the things you have always believed--like looking left and right prevents collisions with moving vehicles--just don’t hold up.
Here’s the play by play: I step into the street and look left. I see motorbikes coming in my general direction, but we make eye contact so I assume they’ll avoid me and I start forward. I get halfway into the street, and I continue to look both left and right. No problem. Once I am about 3/4 of the way through the street, I focus my attention on three encroaching motorbikes on my right side and make eye contact with them to ensure they see me and slow down/ go around me. I am just about to the other side, still looking right, when WHAM I get hit from my left.
The driver had apparently made a very tight left turn, thus putting him on the wrong side of the road and running him right into me. Luckily he wasn’t going very fast, so rather than really slam into me he more just shoved me and carried me, still upright, a few steps. He then started yelling at me in Vietnamese; what he said I have no idea. I assume it was something along the lines of “You stupid tourist/American/woman.”
I really wasn’t hurt at all, but I will say the living shit was successfully scared out of me. Getting “shoved” by a motorbike is kind of like getting kicked in the face with a soccer ball. No matter how tough , no matter how dedicated to staying in the game, you’re gonna cry. And I did. Alone on the streets of Hanoi. With lots of male motorbike taxi drivers watching me and asking me if I wanted a ride. But I didn’t want a ride! I wanted to punch every man on a motorbike in the face! However, figuring I had already made a big enough scene--stopping traffic, sobbing recklessly in public-- I chose not to assault any nearby xe om drivers and instead made the decision to do the only thing you can really do to comfort yourself in a situation like that: go shopping. I thought I remembered there was a Calvin Klein somewhere nearby and headed in its general direction, figuring if new underwear couldn’t make me feel better nothing could.
I was still recovering and feeling sorry for myself when I walked past an old Vietnamese man on a bench by Hoan Kiem Lake. As I neared him I saw him readjust his position, lift his left butt cheek, and then just as I passed by he farted right at me. I think that was God’s way of telling me to stop taking myself so damn seriously.
I never found Calvin Klein, but I did find an English bookstore, a Clinique, the wine store, an Apple store, and a little old lady who sold Vietnamese paper dolls on the side of the steet.
I bought a lot of things. If Vietnam is serious about improving its economy, it really should start encouraging motorbikes to hit-without-maiming more Westerners.
The reason I was in Hanoi this weekend was simple: Meet up with some friends and eat a Cheeseburger at the one burger joint in Hanoi. Despite a brush with motorbike injury/death, success was had.
See below:
The Heinz 57 Prep
The Heinz 57 Prep
The Inhale
The Friends
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Singing Party
There are a few local party members (not party like "it's my 30th B-day, are you coming?", party like "here's my hammer and sickle, you're coming") who take English classes with some of the teachers here. They had heard I was working at the college and asked to meet me. I wasn't really sure what to expect walking into their class, but all my fears were laid to rest when I was greeted with applause and handed a moon cake.
The class went really well. The people were just curious about me and really wanted the chance to talk to a native English speaker. They asked me all the usual questions: How old are you? Are you married? Do you have a lover?*** Etc. Etc.
When I asked them why they were learning English, a number of them said they want to be able to teach their children English so they'll have more opportunities. The oldest man said he wants to learn so he can be better at his job as a politician when working with foreigners.
This same older man then asked me if I knew the song "California Dreamin." I said, yes, of course.
I just sat there thinking, "There is a party member serenading me to the Mama and the Papas. And no one else in the room thinks this is funny."
Hysterical. But here's the thing: I wasn't even that surprised. That's just Vietnam for you.
***after 2 months of being asked about my lover, and blushing every time, I finally figured out that one Vietnamese word for boyfriend or girlfriend is "nguoi yeu," which translates to "love person"...or "lover." There ya go. (I think the term "love person" is fantastic: "This is Maddie. Yeah dude, she's my love person.")
The class went really well. The people were just curious about me and really wanted the chance to talk to a native English speaker. They asked me all the usual questions: How old are you? Are you married? Do you have a lover?*** Etc. Etc.
When I asked them why they were learning English, a number of them said they want to be able to teach their children English so they'll have more opportunities. The oldest man said he wants to learn so he can be better at his job as a politician when working with foreigners.
This same older man then asked me if I knew the song "California Dreamin." I said, yes, of course.
And then he sang it for me. Every single verse. While maintaining direct eye contact.
I just sat there thinking, "There is a party member serenading me to the Mama and the Papas. And no one else in the room thinks this is funny."
Hysterical. But here's the thing: I wasn't even that surprised. That's just Vietnam for you.
***after 2 months of being asked about my lover, and blushing every time, I finally figured out that one Vietnamese word for boyfriend or girlfriend is "nguoi yeu," which translates to "love person"...or "lover." There ya go. (I think the term "love person" is fantastic: "This is Maddie. Yeah dude, she's my love person.")
Sunday, October 4, 2009
HARVEST TIME!
This past week I’ve been in kind of a funk and haven’t been able to figure out why. I mean, I’m a semi-single twenty-something living alone in a socialist country in the middle of South East Asia. Why would I be moody and blue?
Ah! I know! Because the moon is full in Vietnam!
I can’t remember if that means the moon is also full in Pennsylvania/NYC. So you tell me: are people driving like idiots in New York and being just generally bizarr-o in Pennsylvania? (The answer to this question will in no way verify the fullness of the moon. )
Regardless of the current lunar status on my beloved east coast, this particular full moon in Indochina is a BIG DEAL because it means its the MID AUTUMN FESTIVAL! It’s like Halloween and Thanksgiving rolled into one!! Well, not really, but everyone keeps asking me if I have a holiday like this in America, and I’ve just been saying “Yes, its like Halloween and Thanksgiving.” Then I start crying when I think about missing both of those holidays this year. Sorry I’m a downer. I blame the moon moon. And I miss my momma.
Moving on.
All in all, this Mid-Autumn Festival has made for a busy weekend for me here in Vietnam. On Friday night I was asked to attend the Festivities for faculty children here at my college. Upon arrival at the event, I was told that I was a special guest and would be in charge of an activity. I was to ask the children some easy questions in English and if they answered correctly give them prizes. Simple enough.....if the children spoke English. But they didn’t. They just stared at me blankly, albeit cutely. And I got embarrassed, albeit cutely. Then the kids did a fashion show. It was one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen. I actually have it on Video but wasn’t able to upload it. Suffice it to say that there were small Vietnamese children dancing to the American song, “Boom Boom Boom: I want you in my room” on the same stage as a 5 foot bust of Ho Chi Minh and 20 foot long Vietnamese flag. This was made less ridiculous only by the fact that clearly no one understood the lyrics except for me, AND there were people running around dressed as dragons on the floor to distract me from what was happening on stage.
On Saturday I spent time with students and their families. This is one of the most rewarding things I do here, but its also kind of exhausting, mostly because it always involves eating. I still am not great with chopsticks...it’s embarrassing. And, unlike the Vietnamese, I cannot put a chunk of full chicken in mouth, chew off the meat, and spit out the bones, cartilage, and tendons like sunflower seeds. And as I flounder with chopsticks and bones and anything within a 5 foot radius of my clumsiness, everyone watches me with this strange, bemused expression on their faces: no judgement--just curiosity at how I've managed to get through life when I can hardly get through dinner. But all of that is old hat to me by now.
What happened in the evening near my student Tra’s house in Hung Yen was NOT old hat. Tra is my little Catholic friend. At some point, I’ll rehash the whole bizarr-o/miraculous circumstances of our first meeting, but suffice it to say now that she’s small, Vietnamese, and likes to boss me around in a sometimes-but not always- endearing way. Her family also has for some reason decided to adopt me, and most recently has become intent on having me sleep over at their home, which I found out legally I'm not allowed to do. Something about being a foreigner and always having to be registered wherever I sleep...
I digress. So it was about 7pm and getting dark, and Tra asked if I would go to her local church. We arrive at the church only to see 3 men in robes carrying life sized crosses above their heads, followed by about a 1/2 mile full-on parade. There is a marching band. There are small children singing into microphones powered by wheeled generators. There are red and gold wooden floats that look like they belong on the backs of elephants in India carrying the Maharajah, but are instead on the backs of men dressed like Samurais carrying statues of Mary, Jesus and Joseph. Tra tells me this is for the Autumn Festival and asks me if we have this at my church in America.
I say no. We do not have parades of 10 foot lanterns with pictures of the Madonna bedazzled in neon lights and carried by small boys dressed like Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum guards at Mary, Mother of the Church, Parish in Mount Joy, PA. But maybe we should....hmmmm....
On Sunday I went to Nga’s house. Nga is one of my favorite students, and not just because she’s really short. She’s also really smart. I guess she just reminds me of myself. Nga lives in the small village of Ninh Giang and her parents are rice farmers. To them, Mid-Autumn Festival means HARVEST TIME! It was pretty cool to be there for this. I got some pics, so I’ll let them speak for themselves. What you can’t see in these pictures are the hordes of mosquitoes feasting on my flesh. Nga told me the mosquitos just aren’t used to me yet...Does that mean they’ll warm up to me over time, like step-children or boyfriends’ sisters? I just finished bathing in Calamine. I’m a pale pink mess.
I am also a bit exhausted and somewhat stressed about the next two weeks. I have a ton of stuff to get done. BUT all things are made a little easier when I look at the picture of Nga’s niece and I. Babies make everything better.
Nga in the village. You'll notice the rice straw everywhere. So did my allergies.
That bike is made of wood.
Nga's aunts harvesting the rice.
Nga in the field.
Vietnam Scene
Ah! I know! Because the moon is full in Vietnam!
I can’t remember if that means the moon is also full in Pennsylvania/NYC. So you tell me: are people driving like idiots in New York and being just generally bizarr-o in Pennsylvania? (The answer to this question will in no way verify the fullness of the moon. )
Regardless of the current lunar status on my beloved east coast, this particular full moon in Indochina is a BIG DEAL because it means its the MID AUTUMN FESTIVAL! It’s like Halloween and Thanksgiving rolled into one!! Well, not really, but everyone keeps asking me if I have a holiday like this in America, and I’ve just been saying “Yes, its like Halloween and Thanksgiving.” Then I start crying when I think about missing both of those holidays this year. Sorry I’m a downer. I blame the moon moon. And I miss my momma.
Moving on.
All in all, this Mid-Autumn Festival has made for a busy weekend for me here in Vietnam. On Friday night I was asked to attend the Festivities for faculty children here at my college. Upon arrival at the event, I was told that I was a special guest and would be in charge of an activity. I was to ask the children some easy questions in English and if they answered correctly give them prizes. Simple enough.....if the children spoke English. But they didn’t. They just stared at me blankly, albeit cutely. And I got embarrassed, albeit cutely. Then the kids did a fashion show. It was one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen. I actually have it on Video but wasn’t able to upload it. Suffice it to say that there were small Vietnamese children dancing to the American song, “Boom Boom Boom: I want you in my room” on the same stage as a 5 foot bust of Ho Chi Minh and 20 foot long Vietnamese flag. This was made less ridiculous only by the fact that clearly no one understood the lyrics except for me, AND there were people running around dressed as dragons on the floor to distract me from what was happening on stage.
On Saturday I spent time with students and their families. This is one of the most rewarding things I do here, but its also kind of exhausting, mostly because it always involves eating. I still am not great with chopsticks...it’s embarrassing. And, unlike the Vietnamese, I cannot put a chunk of full chicken in mouth, chew off the meat, and spit out the bones, cartilage, and tendons like sunflower seeds. And as I flounder with chopsticks and bones and anything within a 5 foot radius of my clumsiness, everyone watches me with this strange, bemused expression on their faces: no judgement--just curiosity at how I've managed to get through life when I can hardly get through dinner. But all of that is old hat to me by now.
What happened in the evening near my student Tra’s house in Hung Yen was NOT old hat. Tra is my little Catholic friend. At some point, I’ll rehash the whole bizarr-o/miraculous circumstances of our first meeting, but suffice it to say now that she’s small, Vietnamese, and likes to boss me around in a sometimes-but not always- endearing way. Her family also has for some reason decided to adopt me, and most recently has become intent on having me sleep over at their home, which I found out legally I'm not allowed to do. Something about being a foreigner and always having to be registered wherever I sleep...
I digress. So it was about 7pm and getting dark, and Tra asked if I would go to her local church. We arrive at the church only to see 3 men in robes carrying life sized crosses above their heads, followed by about a 1/2 mile full-on parade. There is a marching band. There are small children singing into microphones powered by wheeled generators. There are red and gold wooden floats that look like they belong on the backs of elephants in India carrying the Maharajah, but are instead on the backs of men dressed like Samurais carrying statues of Mary, Jesus and Joseph. Tra tells me this is for the Autumn Festival and asks me if we have this at my church in America.
I say no. We do not have parades of 10 foot lanterns with pictures of the Madonna bedazzled in neon lights and carried by small boys dressed like Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum guards at Mary, Mother of the Church, Parish in Mount Joy, PA. But maybe we should....hmmmm....
On Sunday I went to Nga’s house. Nga is one of my favorite students, and not just because she’s really short. She’s also really smart. I guess she just reminds me of myself. Nga lives in the small village of Ninh Giang and her parents are rice farmers. To them, Mid-Autumn Festival means HARVEST TIME! It was pretty cool to be there for this. I got some pics, so I’ll let them speak for themselves. What you can’t see in these pictures are the hordes of mosquitoes feasting on my flesh. Nga told me the mosquitos just aren’t used to me yet...Does that mean they’ll warm up to me over time, like step-children or boyfriends’ sisters? I just finished bathing in Calamine. I’m a pale pink mess.
I am also a bit exhausted and somewhat stressed about the next two weeks. I have a ton of stuff to get done. BUT all things are made a little easier when I look at the picture of Nga’s niece and I. Babies make everything better.
Nga in the village. You'll notice the rice straw everywhere. So did my allergies.
That bike is made of wood.
Nga's aunts harvesting the rice.
Nga in the field.
Vietnam Scene
This may be the happiest, most content baby Ive ever met. I love her.
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