Monday, March 29, 2010

Singing for the Communist Youth

Last week I was sick. Really sick. About once a year I get a cold which so completely takes over my sinuses that it makes me feel like my face and brain are swimming in fermaldyhyde. Some people would pay good money for that feeling--I’m not one of them.

The good news? Drugs are easy to come by in Vietnam! And apparently Codeine really does work.

Scarcely had I recovered from my bout with DEATH when I was summoned to sing a traditional Vietnamese song for about 300 Communist Youth at their Union party. Although I studied theater in a reknowned BA acting program, I was pretty nervous. My previous roles at Fordham had left me feeling unprepared for this next performance:

There was that time I played a Russian named Anna Andreyevna, with dangerous curves and hair...
Or that other time I was the racist basketball coach named Leona in a Shakespeare adaptation/apocalyptic thriller

And the time I played Orestes' and Electra's slightly less deranged sister Chrysothemis in the classic Greek family drama...
Or finally, that time I was in a modern Greek adaptation and castrated my husband....

Not so much help, Fordham. But then again, what could have prepared me to dress up in a pink flowered “Ao Dai” and waltz around stage in front of a bust of Ho Chi Minh, singing a song about Bamboo trees in Vietnamese, as random soldiers in attendence came up onstage and gave me flowers mid-song...flowers, mind you, that looked suspiciously like the centerpieces of the tables at which the soldiers had been sitting?

The answer is nothing. Nothing could have prepared me. Despite my nerves, and the semi-bizarre situation, the whole thing went really well. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like such a rock star again. I’m not exaggerating or being arrogant when I say the room erupted into raucous applause when I took the stage and it continued the whole way through. It was surreal; I only wish I had it on video.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Happy Birthday!!

Happy Birthday to me!

Last Friday, March 19, I turned 24 and officially entered my mid-twenties.

When I was a little girl playing with Barbies, I always gave my dolls names like “Isabella” and ages like 24. They had blowout parties, catfights, and wild rides to Malibu in the Barbie Lambourgini. That is, quite frankly, what I believed 24 year olds did.

Barbie 24 year olds did NOT live in Vietnam. But then again, if full sized, Barbie 24 year olds’ necks would be as long as my torso.... So there you go.

All of this is to say that it’s amazing where your life takes you, far beyond your childhood expectations.

This birthday was honestly one of the best that I can remember. It started last Tuesday at English club. My boss decided that this months’ theme should be “International Cooperation.” I said, “Great. We will talk about international cooperation...and cultural understanding through BIRTHDAY PARTIES! “

I always have a group of students perform at English Club, so this month I also taught them the “Happy Birthday” song. I really wanted to buy cake and candy for everyone, too, so my friend Huyen took me to a local bakery and I bought this masterpiece.

English Club began, and my students sang a few new English songs, ending, of course, with “Happy Birthday.” They dimmed the lights, brought out the cake, and it was all incredibly adorable until the whole scene really hit me: The 50 young Vietnamese students singing Happy Birthday to me, as I had taught them...The tiger donned cake, which I had bought for myself....The blazing candles, coming towards me and awaiting my wish....

I couldn’t help but feel embarassed by how rigged the whole event was, skillfully conducted under the guise of cultural ambassadorship. I guess its just that usually my mom or Emily K. takes care of my birthday festivities; without a ring master I felt lost! Fortunately, I don’t think anyone really caught onto how ridiculous the whole thing was; they were just happy to get cake.

I had to work all morning on my birthday, but I was able to see a lot of students and teachers, all of whom had the sweetest birthday wishes, and many of whom had the most adorable small gifts. I even got a mug with pictures of myself all over it; I can’t wait to get a new roommate and be drinking out of my own face some morning when she wakes up.

I also went into Hanoi to see some of my Fulbright friends on Friday night. Unfortunately I forgot my camera, so there are no pics of Jen, Patrick, and Mia, but here is what “Sunset Bar”-where we went for drinks-- looks like. Its a really cool bar built out on a man-made island in West Lake.
(Picture from NYtimes.com)
For dinner, we went to La Badiane, my favorite restaurant. It was delicious. Obviously.

(pic by Mia)
Then, the day after my birthday, I came back to Hai Duong to party with the lady teachers. I took them to the new Italian restaurant in town, and for many of them it was the first time trying pizza.


The teachers gave me this lovely piece of Chu Dau pottery, an ancient kind of pottery made in Hai Duong.

It’s called “A Pair of ducks,” and its this kind of a crafe to hold rice-wine.

It really was a great birthday. Unfortunately, all of the excitement must have taken a lot out of me because I’m currently pretty sick. Word got out that I'm not feeling well, and I’ve already been brought vitamins, herbal candies, condeine...hopefully it’ll be a speedy recovery so I can sing at the Community Youth Union party this Thursday. Get excited.













Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Reasons to Love Hai Duong, Hanoi, Vietnam

I’m very lucky to have some great friends and family back home who, from time to time, send me Real-Mail. This is amazing for two reasons:

1. The postal system between Vietnam and the United States is actually compatible! (Though still a bit dysfunctional...the Valentine from my mother only arrived last week, and the envelope was suspiciously torn to shreds.)

2. In this digital age, cool people still look to snail mail for a more thoughtful mode of communication.

When my friend John and I worked together way back when (last year), we had a weekly ritual in which he would give me the new issue of New York Magazine when he was finished reading it, and I would, in turn, gopher to Subway to get our 6-inch combos. Really, it was more of an unspoken routine than ritual--and gophering was sometimes my job anyway--but you get the idea: between “approval matrices” and cold cuts, life was good.
Since I’ve been in Vietnam, John has intermittently continued to forward me NY Mag Issues, blank crosswords and all. In the latest batch of back issues, my most favorite issue of the year was included: REASONS TO LOVE NEW YORK. Now truth be told, every NY Mag is basically all about the “reasons to love New York,” or at least the reasons New Yorkers think they and their city are better than everyone else, everywhere else. However, this annual double issue is especially brazen in it’s self-worship, and I can’t help but eat it up. It could tell me the rats in the Times Square subway station are reason #19 to love New York, and I would be like, “You’re right! They are cute! And I think I saw one dancing beside that Asian man who plays the weird stringed instrument on the 1 train platform! I want one!”

I digress...Although reading about all the reasons to love New York--miracles on the Hudson, boa constrictors in Bensonhurst--did make me nostalgic for home, it also made me want to list some "REASONS TO LOVE Hai Duong/Hanoi/Vietnam." Without further ado, here are just a few, in no particular order:

#1. Because despite the implied capitalism of the Coca Cola billboards on Highway 5, Vietnam is clinging fast to its communist roots.
I’m not really at liberty to make further comment about this as I’m currently learning to drive a motorbike from a leading communist official in Hai Duong, and next week I’m singing at the Communist Youth Party. So much for my CIA clearance.

#2. Because that being said.....

OBAMA Fashion has come to Hai Duong.
#3. Because beer is better when it costs $0.15.
#4. Because the smaller the pineapple, the sweeter the juice.

These 4 pineapples have been skinned and cut to sweet perfection, and best of all they cost about $0.50 from the lady on the bicycle sitting outside my college.

#5.
Because the Vietnamese art scene is just really good.

#6. Because the coffee is thicker than blood, in a good way.
Vietnam has got its own brand of coffee, and its own way of serving said coffee. It comes in little mugs, with little french presses on top, and a little sweet condensed milk at the bottom. Some people love it, some people hate it. I happen to really like it, with the understanding that its just not comparable to coffee elsewhere; its a breed all its own. It doesn’t taste like espresso per se, but it packs a similar punch.

My favorite part of the coffee experience in Vietnam is sitting and drinking in cafes. The first time I went to a cafe in Hai Duong, I was surprised to find that I was the only female. I asked a friend why the cafes were only filled with men, and she told me that perhaps Vietnamese women who went out for coffee alone were not considered very good women. When I asked if that meant I was not considered a very good woman, she replied, “You’re foreign.”

It was not clear whether she meant “You’re foreign, therefore the rules don’t apply,” or “You’re foreign. Obviously you’re not a very good woman.”

#7. Because despite the occasional tummy trouble, there are some great restaurants.
HANOI:
La Badiane: Might be my favorite restaurant in Hanoi....French food...great starters...good lunch menu...and one time they gave me free champagne.
Au Lac: Had some really good Vietnamese food here when my friend Anne visited. You know the food is authentic because half the clientele is Vietnamese, as opposed to some other restaurants nearby which are busting at the seams with Westerners basking in a faux-colonial experience.
Vine: Best wine selection in Hanoi, so they say... And so I believe. I had this steak stuffed with scallops and asparagus...it was really good....Wow...I need to go back there.
Foodshop 45: Good Indian food. Really good prices. Cute atmosphere.
KOTO: Run by an Australian NGO, this restaurant employs and trains street kids for careers in hospitality. Its a really great organization, made even better by the fact that the food is legitimately fantastic. The young staff is wonderful, too. I suggest eating on the roof. I am neither confirming nor denying that I once went for lunch and stayed through dinner...
HAI DUONG:
Ristorante Italian: The pizza raises my levels of serotonin.
Pho Shop: Pho is good for your soul...and I get these little pork/cabbage things, too. They know me here, and they think its strange I come alone and read books while eating.
#8.Because Hanoi has some great, fairly reasonably priced boutiques.
My favorite finds are around the Cathedral in the Old Quarter. I bought this Fedora at SONG, one of the less really reasonably priced boutiques, but still really cute stuff...

#9. Because if no one is selling it, someone can make it.
Big fan of tailors in Hanoi...why did the Western World have to get away from made-to-order clothes? It makes the lives of short people so much easier...

#10. Because remember how good coke was when we were little, before the advent of corn syrup?
Well, it still tastes like that here.
#11. Because when you’re here, you’re family.
I lived at the Rising Dragon Hotel II my first month in Hanoi, and I've stayed there every trip into the city since. It might not be the Metropole, but it's got a great location, good beds, and just the best staff...I love these guys.

#12. Because for the rest of my life I can talk about “that time I lived in Vietnam” and people will think I'm so much cooler than I really am.


And seriously, send me mail. If nothing else, it makes me feel special, and I promise to reciprocate with a postcard. Then your mailman will think you’re so cool to get something from Vietnam...

Madeline Felix
Giao Vien Tieng Anh
Truong Cao Dang Hai Duong
Nguyen Thi Due Street-Thanh Binh
Hai Duong City Vietnam

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Well Helllllo, Ladies!

Happy Belated International Women’s Day! (‘Twas March 8)

What is that you say? You’ve never heard of International Women’s Day? You haven’t received bouquet upon bouquet of glittery flowers wrapped in puffy tissue paper, just for being female? No one has wished you “lucky, success, and always beautiful,” and told you that they hope you will someday find a husband?

Where ARE you????

Obviously not in Vietnam.

Joking aside, if there is one business thriving in the Vietnamese economy, it’s the flower business. The Vietnamese LOVE giving flowers for all occasions--and they are the most obscenely garish arrangements I’ve ever seen. They look like something out of a New Jersey wedding in the early 80s...and I kind of love them.

But enough about the foliage...Now about the ladies:

I think one of my biggest surprises during my time here, and definitely my greatest joy, has been the relationships that I have developed with the Vietnamese women I work with. I of course have had close relationships with other women in my life, but to be honest I’ve never experienced that “sisterhood” so prevalent in teen movies about traveling pants and books by Candace Bushnell. I have a few close girlfriends and some very close sisters/mothers/aunts/cousins, and part of those relationships is female-based, but really I think they’re mostly people-based, with a female flair.

This is so different from Vietnam, where I’ve never felt more connected to the women around me simply for just being another woman. Women here relate in ways that I myself have never experienced in America. Contributing to this is the fact that, for really the first time in my life, I’ve looked for a support network in an outside group of women--and amazingly I’ve found it.

Shortly after I arrived in Hai Duong I was working in the English office when my friend Thanh, who I hardly knew at the time, said out of the blue, “Madeline, I think you are brave to come here. When I was in University I could only see my family and boyfriend once a month. I felt like I was going to explode. You feel like that, yes?”

Before that, I don’t think I realized that women here would understand what I was going through. Since then, I’ve been to my female friends’ weddings, met their children, heard about their husbands, and learned to open up about my own life.

When I arrived, Thanh was just 3 months pregnant, so it was fun to get to know her as something so important was changing in her life. About a month before she had her baby she was quite frankly huge, and appeared even more so because she is so small in her un-pregnantized state. I came into the English office one day and all the other women were laughing with Thanh. I asked what was funny and Mrs. Thu said, “Thanh looks like a turtle, do you agree!?”

I smiled and said maybe just a little. Mrs Thu went on, “Sometimes I think, what will it be like when Madeline has a baby??!!” She then proceeded to impersonate what she thinks I will look like as half turtle/half pregnant woman, much to the amusement of everyone else in the office.

It was a little jarring, but I let out a chuckle and tried to mask my surprise/horror...

A few weeks ago, I visited Thanh, her new son Bao Nam, and her daughter Thu. As I sat on Thanh’s bed, with Thu climbing on me and repeating my name over and over--“Mad A Ling”---I just watched Thanh and this new, perfect little person and was in awe of her life.

When Bao Nam had fallen asleep, Thanh told me that she had wanted to ask my mother some questions when she visited in December, but she hadn’t had the chance. I asked if the questions were about teaching, but Thanh said, “No, about being a mother.” Thanh then got a little sheepish and said, “Old women in Vietnam give a lot of rules after you have a baby, and I just wondered what your mother thought.”

“What kind of rules?” I asked.

Thanh launched into a diatribe of all the things that were unhealthy and shouldn’t be done after having a baby: Showering, washing your hair, doing dishes, going up and down stairs, cooking, cleaning, sleeping in the same bed as your husband, having visitors, etc, etc.

I told Thanh that I didn’t know about any of those rules, but it sounded like some smart Vietnamese women had created them so they would finally get a break from all the hard work they have to do here. She laughed and agreed.

When people ask me what the hardest part of living here is, there's no hesitation before I reply, “Missing people.” At the end of the day, rats, electricity, traffic, my recently stolen bike...are all nothing compared to that small but constant ache you get when you’re away from people that you love.

But in the next breath I always have to say that the best part of living here has been meeting new people. In the end, regardless of location, life really just boils down to relationships: who we care about, why we do, and how close we get to be to them.

I feel so blessed to have developed real relationships with women here. If I do someday take on a turtle-like resemblance, I know who I will call.


Thanh's daughter Thu and me.
My friend Huyen's daughter Minh.
Emma, Mom, and Dad's visit to my school with the teachers...

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Tickin' Time

90 days left in Vietnam.


There are two ways to look at this:


1. Wow! I’ve been here for 214 days! 70% through! Way to go, Mad! 4th Quarter! Rounding into home plate! Last mile--running on adrenaline! You go girl!

OR

2. 90 days is a long time. Ask Lindsey Lohan.


I got halfway through writing the sentence “You know, I’ve never been a person to dwell on time” before I guffawed and quickly deleted that lie.


I’ve always been a person to dwell on time. I have minute-by-minute schedules for my days off. Hell, I pencil in “relaxing.” For me, the present has always seemed the perfect time to plan the future.


In my defense, it was my father who called me last week and told me we were within 100 days. You know what they say about apples and trees and gravity...


Despite some serious issues with over-time-management, organization, and, dare I say, control, I’ve had to adjust (ever so slightly) since I’ve been in Viet Nam. The truth is that people just don’t plan things ahead here. Last weekend I missed a teacher’s wedding because she didn’t invite me until 2 weeks before, and I already had plans. She hadn’t forgotten to invite me; she just hadn’t set the date earlier. I know American girls who have a date, dress, and selected china at Williams and Sonoma before they even have a ring. (Or boyfriend....)


Not planning ahead is quite literally a foreign concept to me; it baffles me just as much as my to-do lists baffle my friend Huyen. But quite frankly, it’s MY anal-retentive way of doing things that doesn’t work here.


I’ve never seen my students write down their homework assignments. I’ve never seen a cookbook in someone’s kitchen. I’ve never seen anyone with ink on the back of their hand.


I’ve never even seen anyone with a shopping list at the market. Me? I bring a post-it note with the word “eggs” written on it.


I’m not saying the people in Vietnam are wrong for their lack of scheduling. Quite the contrary: I’m mutually bewildered and impressed by their spontaneity and laid-back temperament. How do they do it? While it sometimes drives me crazy, it really does work for them, and things somehow always get done. Furthermore, the reason it makes me insane is because I was conditioned from an early age to schedule tightly and efficiently in order to get the most out of my time on Earth because someday I will DIE, and do you want to be remembered as a “doer” or a “watcher,” Maddie?!?!


But am I really so conditioned to be organized and efficient that I don’t think I can trust my mind--a member of Phi Beta Kappa-- to remember one solitary thing at the market? Do I seriously require 24/7 post-it back up? When you think about it, that’s kind of messed up.


Maybe the Vietnamese are onto something that the working drones in America have overlooked. Perhaps if we had a little more trust that things would naturally fall into place, then they would.


I’m supposed to be learning and growing here in Vietnam, right? Well, if there’s one thing I can really afford to learn it’s to live more in the moment... to take things as they come...to stop trying to take the proverbial bull by his proverbial horns. I have honestly never been able to sit still, and while my frenetic motion has moved me in some very positive directions, it has also always kept me from being completely satisfied with the present. And that’s no way to live.


Maybe I should try an experiment: I will spend the next 3 months NOT looking for job, and if one just magically appears I promise to never write another 5-10 year plan....


....


Ok. That’s just stupid. But perhaps I can at least take the calendar off my wall and try to relax and let go during my last 3 months here.


In all seriousness, I know better than most that it’s so easy to wish you were wherever you’re not. But at some point--like after 214 days--its probably time to get over that.