"When I was in 'Nam..."

PICTURES ON FACEBOOK!!

2010-07-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

Been in the USA for over a month...

Craziness!

No permanent job yet...but some stuff in the works, so we'll see what happens. In the meantime I'm playing professional companion and conversationalist with an 86 year old lady named Grace. She talks about life, I make her sandwiches, we watch the birds. Its all very "Tuesdays with Morrie."

The main point of this post: I finally uploaded a lot of pictures from the year on Facebook!!! Check 'em out!!!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2206997&id=10902081&l=e4fc2ec3b6

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2208479&id=10902081&l=b745aed77b

No place like home.

2010-06-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

It's all about Seoullll!

2010-06-02T14:04:00.000-07:00

Can't even THINK about Seoul, South Korea without singing Billy Joel...

"It's all about Seoul!!
It's all about faith and a deeper devotion.
It's all about Seoul!!!
'Cause under love is a stronger emotion.
She's gotta be strong.
There's so many things getting out of control.
Should drive her away,
Why does she stay?
It's all about...... Seoul!!"

And its 5:15 Am Korea time, 4:15 AM Vietnam Time, and 5:15 PM East Coast USA time. Bleh. And I haven't slept yet...restless leg syndrome on the plane. And have I mentioned I really don't like flying? Yeah..I don't like it at all.

24 hours 45 minutes to JFK....:):)

Checked-in in Hanoi

2010-06-02T07:42:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by stewardesses. Considering a new career path. They have the best uniforms. And cutest hats.

(Can you say "stewardess" anymore, or is it only "flight attendant"?)

Update: I'm too short to be a stewardess for Vietnam Airlines. What a punch in the gut...

D-Day

2010-06-02T03:14:00.000-07:00

I'm getting my car to the airport in 1 hour! I've been getting all kinds of adorable text messages from my students...here is one of my favorites:

"Good morning Miss Madeline. I am student in 2D. I know that goodafternoon (Ed. note: "this afternoon") you will turn foreign. Have a good flight. I wish you successful and always happy. I will miss you a lot."

I love the idea that I will "turn foreign" again. Its like, "At the stroke of midnight, you will turn foreign once again...or you will turn into a pumpkin. Who the hell knows?!"

Oh, this feels so surreal...

See you in America??

Oh, the Drama.

2010-06-01T04:50:00.000-07:00

I’ll spare you the boring details, but back when I applied for the Fulbright I wrote that along with teaching English I wanted to complete a personal project on the use of drama or storytelling as a means of cultural and language exchange. I said this in addition to many other things which duped the selection panel into thinking I was smart, worldly, and not nearly as naive and unprepared as I actually was...but that’s all in the past.

So what did this all boil down to?

THE FIRST ANNUAL ENGLISH DRAMA COMPETITION AT HAI DUONG COLLEGE!

A few months ago, I had my students submit ideas for Vietnamese folk tales or well known fairy tales to craft into short plays. I chose the best 5 ideas and then had a script writing workshop to help put the stories on their feet. We did story maps, broke the stories down into scenes, worked on character development, and had lots and lots of rehearsals.

Let me give you a brief run down of the 5 plays:

Cinderella at the Miss Vietnam Pageant:
I told this group they could adapt Cinderella as long as they set it in Vietnam. Instead of a ball, the sisters and Cindy were invited to the Miss Vietnam Pageant where they vied for the love of the Prime Minister’s son by walking the cat walk and a talent show. Their soundtrack was really impressive; everything from Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” was used.

The Legend of Au Co:
Everybody’s got a creation story, and this is Vietnam’s. Au Co is a mountain fairy, Lac Long Quan is a sea dragon. LLQ rescues AC from a Monstrous bird and they fall in love. Drama ensues when AC realizes that her husband will never be happy in the mountains, and she will never be happy by the sea because she has a moral aversion to fish. So they take their 100 children and split them down the middle, each taking half. The oldest son--half mountain fairy, half sea dragon--goes on to found Viet Nam.
(I can't believe I didn't take a picture of them!! I was so wrapped up in it all...)
The 100 Knot Bamboo Tree:
This is a very old traditional folk tale here; kind of like an Aesops’ Fable. Khoai is a stupid laboror; the landowner is his stingy boss. The Landowner tells Khoai that if he is his slave for 3 years he can marry his daughter, but then he pulls the old bait and switch and gives his daughter to the village chief’s son. Khoai wants what is due him and is forced to go find a “100 Knot Bamboo Tree” which is nearly impossible! Buddha helps him with a little magiv, and hilarity ensues when Khoai makes the landowner and all his friends stick to the bamboo tree until they beg for mercy. The best part of the play? During the Landowner's line, "And now we must kill the pigs and chickens to prepare for the wedding feast," I started to hear a strange squealing sound effect that I couldn't place. My friend Huyen leaned over and said, "That is the sound of pigs being killed..."!!!!!!!!!!!! That was the only sound effect used in the whole play! HA!

Tam Cam:
Its like a legitimate researched thing that every culture has a Cinderella story. I didn’t legitimately research this, but someone did; Tam Cam is Vietnam’s. Its the age old rags to riches tale, with a nasty step-mother and bitchy step-sister. There is also a Karaoke contest to win the Prince’s heart (AGAIN: All Vietnamese people love Karaoke...). The twist? The fairy Godmother is a hip-hopping Buddha.

Dream Heaven:
This was the one “original” drama. I use quotes because Hieu, the student writer, was definitely pulling from some outside sources despite his insistence that it all came from his imagination. Basically, there is a prince named Peter who is of marrying age and falls in love with a poor country girl named Jenny. Meanwhile, the Prime Minister has convinced the king that he should find a suitable wife for the prince, ala Aladdin style. The PM wants the prince to marry his wicked daughter Jella, but Peter won’t stop seeing Jenny. Jella sends a poisoned apple to Jenny’s house, ala Snow White. Peter discovers her dead poisoned body and can’t go on, so he kills himself in the tomb, ala Romeo and Juliet. The only thing this play didn’t have was a sleep inducing spindle and lost glass shoe. But really, what is writing but a theft of ideas?

In Shakespeare, the rule of thumb is basically that plays with weddings are comedies and plays with deaths are tragedies (or histories...because dudes named Henry always seem to be either dying or murdering some other dude named Henry..). My students followed this rule to a T. (Except for ‘The Legend of Au Co,’ since that kind of ended in divorce...but there wasn’t a custody battle or anything like that.)

The death and love scenes were not only the most fun to work on, but they also were the most culturally enlightening. I mean, most of any culture revolves around those two things, right? We all are just wanting to fall in love and waiting to die; how we handle both defines our culture.

Here in Vietnam, public displays of affection are not common, but we were talking about royalty, young love, and marriage proposals so I knew we needed some juice. My students agreed to some basic embracing and on-bended-knee hand kissing. They were a little embarrassed, but they sucked it up for their art. The crowd, quite frankly, went wild.

Meanwhile, I had flashbacks to a play I was in during my freshman year at Fordham in which I asked the playwright to please write a make-out scene for me and the guy playing my baby’s daddy. He was a senior and didn’t wear deodorant; I was obviously wildly attracted.

I also had to keep myself from getting upset when all the students laughed uproariously during the death scenes. In Dream Heaven, Prince Peter was killing himself in the tomb beside the poisoned body of his virgin love and everyone found it hysterical--including the actress playing said poisoned body. During rehearsals I kept yelling things like, “CAN DEAD PEOPLE LAUGH?! IS IT FUNNY THAT HIS LIFE IS OVER?! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE KILLED HIMSELF!?! (I think I went a little overboard on this...I’m sensitive).

In the end, “Dream Heaven” took home the chachski, much to “Cinderella’s” chagrin. Everyone just really truly loved that 10 minute death scene...

So now that the Drama Competition is over, its time to freak about leaving, pack like crazy and say a lot of goodbyes...Its about 30 hours til take-off.

Is my stomach supposed to feel like this? Its so weird!

Me and the cast of Cinderella, wearing my Ao Dai (long dress) which the teachers gave me for my birthday...

Last trip to hanoi...

2010-05-30T01:52:00.000-07:00

Just got back from my last trip to Hanoi. I got nostalgic on the way home as it all started to set in that I'm leaving...my Ipod was playing some John Denver and a tear may have come to my eye...

But then my bus broke down and I sat in the sun for 1/2 hour before some man I didn't know physically pushed me into a different bus sardined with people, then moved me to stand in the front of the bus beside him and the driver, and they started making fun of me in Vietnamese for not speaking Vietnamese, even though I kind of understood what they were saying, and it wasn't all very nice so I didn't really feel like responding, and I thought, "Ok, I'm ready to go home now." Then I turned on some Jay-Z.

Woohooo! America in 3 days: Where people will still make fun of me, and public transportation will still kind of suck, but where I can swear in English and everyone understands. Also, it's the home of the free and the brave!!!!!!!

In other news, my students had their drama competition on Friday and it was GREAT! Pics and update soon...once I finish some grading. And take a nap...

La-Di-Da-Last-Week

2010-05-26T06:31:00.000-07:00

I've been putting off posting because I've been waiting to think of something witty/clever/reflective to say in my last days/SLASH My hard drive is full, and so I have to clean some stuff out before I can upload pics.

I will tell you that Hue was great. What I saw of the city was really quite lovely: a citadel, an old pagoda, some dead guys' tomb.... But to be perfectly honest, my cultural consumption ability isn't what it was in August, and I spent most of the time swimming in the hotel pool with the other Fulbrighters. We were just such a cool crew: Corinne once lived on a commune, Mia worked for Hilary, Mark has tattoos, Tam wants to go into medicine, Uyen likes math, Jen's a teacher (and married!), Emily cares a lot about sex trafficking, Sofia's family is Jewish, Hayley was an All American runner, and I like to write, read, and plan things.

How am I spending my last week in Viet Nam? Grading exams, running the Drama Competition, packing, packing, packing, and getting responsibly excited to go home. I say "responsibly excited" because I'm trying to give myself the OK to be a little overwhelmed and shocked about home. I didn't know what it would be like to move here, and I don't know what it will be like to move home...but I do know that home has good things I'm ready to get back to, like JCrew and Starbucks, and other shamelessly capitalist ventures which I hold dear.

The other thing that's exciting about going home is that I'm going to take some of my extra Fulbright cash to buy a Bicycle! I've loved riding my bike around Hai Duong and other places in Vietnam, and I can't wait to have a mode of transportation in New York!

Oh, and I just made this my facebook pic, but my mom doesn't have facebook so I'm posting it here. This is of me and this little girl named Linh I met at a wedding a few weeks back. She was my buddy.

2 weeks Out

2010-05-18T16:13:00.001-07:00

I like to think in terms of weeks. My father likes to think in terms of day. I say, "Dad! I'll be home in 3 weeks!" and he says, "I know. 20 days and a wake-up."

Regardless...we're at 2 weeks, or 13 days and a wake up. I'm heading down to Hue in a few hours (and I really need to pack...), but in the meantime I've just been thinking a lot about everything I'll miss from here, as well as everything I'm looking forward to at home.

Two things stand out.

I will miss the fruit of Vietnam. So sweet and delicious. So cheap and juicy. So fresh. So good.
But I can't wait to see my beautiful dog Lady. She is so silly, and lovely, and sweet, and cuddly.
(However I am slightly concerned that my thoughts about missing food lead me to an excitement about seeing my puppy...hmmm....)

I love Hoi An.

2010-05-17T00:52:00.000-07:00

It’s a week later, and I still can’t quite put into words how much I loved Hoi An. If you’re planning on traveling to Vietnam, I’d definitely advise that you make sure not to miss this place.

First of all, it has a beautiful beach. I mean, just a lovely view, luke warm water, nice sand, open space, great sun.

The first night we were there, we stayed late on the beach and had a seafood picnic by oil lamp. People set up mats all over the beach and we ordered all kinds of seafood, which they cooked on little coal fires nearby. Then, as the sun went down, people brought out these little oil lamps made out of 2 broken bottles. The food was great, the beer was cold, and the atmosphere was divine.

In additional to the fantastic beach, the town itself is ADORABLE. It used to be a main trading port for Japanese, Chinese, and European merchants (hence this Japanese covered bridge in the center of town pictured below), and it is the only place in Vietnam that has completely preserved roads and buildings from the 16th to 19th centuries. Its lovely just to walk around, but on top of that its filled with great tailors and shopping. I went into the weekend vowing that I wouldn’t buy anything.... I walked out with a little tan trench coat, 2 beach dresses, and some sandals. All made to order. But only for $60! Ee gads.(Corinne loves Hoi An, too.)

So my friend Corinne and I spent the weekend shopping, lounging on the beach, reading by the hotel pool, and eating amazing food. The last day Corinne had an early flight, so I rented a bike and trolled around town all morning by myself. Then, in the afternoon, I continued riding and found a more secluded beach. For the rest of the day I read a trashy romance novel, ordered clams to be brought to my rented beach chair, wrote bad poetry in my journal, and played peek-a-boo with little sand crabs. As an aside, have you ever noticed how silly crabs are? Seriously. The funniest animals alive. I also spend a lot of time swimming solo in the ocean amidst the most docile jelly fish I’ve ever encountered. Twice one floated into me, and neither time did I get stung! That’s Hoi An...Everyone is happy. Le Sigh....

(The Crabby's hole)

(The Crabby.)

In 2 days I head to Hue, the Ancient Capital down in Central Vietnam, for my Fulbright End of Year Seminar. END OF YEAR! Can you believe it? 16 Days and I’m on my way home. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that I’m definitely ready and I can’t wait to touch down at JFK. Still no job...but that’s ok. I’m not looking to start anything until August. I have some summer obligations, like going to Vegas for Scott’s birthday, hanging out with my dad at our cabin, swimming at the pool where my little sister is a lifeguard, and spending a week in Sea Isle, NJ with my fam. Priorities, people. Priorities.

Tonight

2010-05-13T05:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight a 70 year old woman climbed 20 feet up a Mango tree to pick me three mangoes. Then, at dinner, her daughter put dog meat into my bowl of rice. ( I didn't eat it...)

9 1/2 months and you still got it, Vietnam.

(Hoi An was amazing....pictures and update to come.)

Happy Mother's Day!!

2010-05-09T01:07:00.001-07:00

What would I do without this woman?

Beach Bound

2010-05-07T02:02:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update before I catch my flight to Hoi An! Hoi An is an ancient city and UNESCO World Heritage Site located in Central Vietnam. It has a great shopping and silk district and a beautiful beach! I was on a huge travel kick at the beginning of the year, but since I got back from my Tet Holiday adventures to Laos and Cambodia I've been pretty well settled in Hai Duong and Hanoi.

I am THRILLED to be getting away, and even more happy about the prospect lying on the beach and getting a little color before I head back to America in a few weeks. Its been so damn hot lately, and the sun has been brutal, but every time I go out in a tank top I'm stopped by at least 10 Vietnamese telling me to cover up so my skin doesn't get blacker...thus I am as white as ever.

I'm going to try to keep my shopping/tailoring to a minimum, although that is part of what Hoi An is best known for. I recently had a tailor make me a gold lame/sequined mini dress, which in truth makes me look kind of like a Las Vegas hooker. I took it as a message that just because you get someone to make you anything you want, it doesn't mean you should take them up on it....

I also just have to take a moment and brag about the great hotel I got for my friend Corinne and I for $20/night! That's $10/person! I saved 80%. I am a hotel deal maven. See link.

Ok. Time for take-off. I got a hot pink pedicure and I'm ready to go.

Vietnam Liberation Day

2010-04-29T23:55:00.000-07:00

Today is Liberation Day in Vietnam. Liberation Day: also known as Reunification Day, Victory Day, and The Fall of Saigon.

It was 35 Years ago that tanks of the North Vietnamese Army broke through the gates of South Vietnam’s President’s Palace while the last Americans in Saigon caught the final helicopter off the roof of the U.S. Embassy.

I have off work today, and apparently there are parades and fireworks and all other kinds of hoopla happening all over Vietnam. While I don’t plan on celebrating with the rest of the country, I wouldn’t say it’s completely strange to be here. Perhaps it is far stranger for those of my friends and family alive in 1975 to think of me being here.

In 1975, my parents were freshmen in college and I wouldn’t be born for another 11 years. When I told people of an older generation back in America that I would be coming to Vietnam, they always seemed surprised, if not a bit concerned. There was also at times the distinct look of “Are you crazy?” in their eyes. Of course, now I understand that I was in fact crazy, but not for the reasons they thought.

While I didn’t understand their feelings completely--the war ended 35 years ago after all--I can somewhat see where they were coming from. How will I feel if in 35 years my 20 something daughter tells me she is going to move to Iraq to teach English? Maybe, like people of my parents' generation with Vietnam, war images off the newsreel will flash through my mind and I’ll wonder what she is thinking.

But isn’t it something to hope for?

Taken by Dutch photographer Hugh Van Es, this picture is one of the most famous images from the Vietnam War. Although because of a newspaper editor's error it is widely believed to show the last helicopter on the roof of the US Embassy, it is in fact a different American chopper on the roof of a downtown Saigon apartment building.

KARAOKE-OK!

2010-04-28T08:08:00.000-07:00

I’m all about breaking down racial stereotypes, but let’s get one thing straight:

ALL VIETNAMESE PEOPLE LOVE KARAOKE.

I just got back from an evening at the karaoke cafe with fifteen belting 15 year olds, some new students I’ve recently acquired from Hai Duong’s gifted secondary school. They’re hoping to go to high school abroad, so for the past month I’ve been helping them prep for their big interviews.

Today after our class they took me to a Karaoke joint which was deceptively disguised as a coffee place. Downstairs, it was all little tables and individual Vietnamese-style french presses. Upstairs, it was all private rooms with group-sized leather couches and wide screens.

Of course, I was all but made to sing by FORCE.

I tried to get out of it by saying that I needed to get home to prepare my dinner since I live alone, unlike my students whose mothers still do that sort of thing for them. (How lucky they are!!)

They would have none of my excuses. The other teacher of the class told me not to worry and promptly left the Karaoke Cove. 20 minutes later she returned carrying a large plastic bag filled with cabbage and a small plastic bag which appeared to be filled with some sort of raw meat mixture. Holding up the bag she proudly exclaimed,

“I have brought you the meat of two fighting cocks!”

It is not laying in my room, watching Sex and the City DVDs and eating tofu with noodles which makes me sometimes wish another American friend was here, nor is it sitting in cafes or bicycling through town which makes me pine for Western company.

No no.

But it is times like this, when I am surrounding by a group of Vietnamese teenagers singing their hearts out and someone uses a term like “the meat of two fighting cocks” to describe my dinner, that I wish there someone else who could, as I do, see the sweet hilarity.

Watch this Video. It makes me very happy.

Under 40 Days

2010-04-26T07:02:00.000-07:00

If Jesus did it in a desert, then I can do it in a developing country, right??

Part Two: Things I've Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos)

2010-04-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

This is Part Two of the Two Part Series Creatively entitled: Things I've Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos)!!

I pick up where we left off and move on to Cambodia...

All over the temples of Angkor Wat are bas reliefs of dancing Asparas--the muse-like figures of Cambodia. I love their movement and sensuality. I was looking for a small stone relief that I could hang on a wall, but found this ceramic one instead. It was $5 in a little shop in Phnom Penh. Thank you to Corinne and Emily for being patient with me as a I searched for it.

In Cambodia I also bought this little lotus flower puzzle. Lotus flowers are very symbolic here, and this puzzle reminded me of little things my grandparents had around their house when I was growing up. My grandfather was in the Air Force, and they always had the neatest things from Germany, Holland, Korea, Japan, etc. that they’ve passed onto all of their kids and grandkids. I love thinking that I’ll have things like that to pass along, too.

Laos is very famous for its paper crafts, and I found this collapsible paper star in the same little village as the scarf. There was a lady standing outside drying the big sheets of paper, and she gave me a little demo. I’m not sure what I’ll do with this...but I couldn’t not buy something:).

Also in Laos, at the night market, I bought these two little pillow pins. They cost maybe 50 cents, and they just made me smile.:) I mean, they say "I love you well" and "kiss you!"

Although I am giving so much of my clothing away, believe me when I say I won’t go naked. I’ve done a good bit of shopping since I’ve been here. In Hanoi you can find some clothes that are really well made (or made to order!!) for a fraction of the cost you would pay in the States. The boutiques are really cute and unique, and often the designer is working in the store, too. The tailor that I found is also really fantastic. She’s copying a J Crew Linen blazer and pencil skirt for me as we speak...

For my birthday, the lady teachers got me this Ao Dai. This is the traditional dress in Vietnam, and me getting one was quite the to-do. I picked out the fabric----well, I picked out a lot of other fabrics first that the other teachers didn’t like, so we settled on this. When I went for my final fitting, the shop was filled with other Vietnamese women I had never met. They all laughed when I came out wearing the Ao Dai, and then one woman proceeded to feel me upl. I was a little taken aback, but no one else seemed to think it was weird. Curves are hard to come by in these parts, so maybe she was curious what they felt like?

I like jewelry, and I’ve been able to find some really unique pieces here and there. One of the things I was on the lookout for from the beginning was a jade bracelet, and I found this one in the lower left corner at a place called “Nagas Creations” in Laos. I had not seen such a dark, rich color anywhere else. Unfortunately, that doesn’t really come through in this picture, but trust me it’s beautiful! The store was owned by a French ex-pat and his CRAZY mother who had been raised in Zimbabwe during the colonial era. I bought these 3 wooden bangles there, too. The chunky large bracelet with the purple flower design is from Nha Trang, a beach town in South Vietnam. The coral beads are from a shop in Hanoi, and my mother bought me the little silver earrings shaped like the Non La--the Vietnamese hat--when she was in Sapa with me. Sapa is known for their silver, and these are kind of quirky and very cute.

For my birthday, I was given this great rice wine carafe shaped like 2 ducks, made by Chu Dau Pottery in Hai Duong. It was another gift from the teachers I work with. They told me it is customarily a wedding present, so I should think of it as a birthday/wedding present since they won’t see me again before my someday-wedding. They like to talk about me getting married a lot....

When my parent’s visited, the school gave them a large Chu Dau vase, and they told us that Chu Dau pottery was “world famous in Vietnam.” Everyone in Vietnam is always saying things are “world famous”--world famous green bean cake, world famous bakery, world famous tailor--so we didn’t really take the claim too seriously. Then we googled Chu Dau, and it turns out that it is actually World Famous! Chu Dau pottery is recognized by UNESCO as an ancient craft.

I also bought these two smaller vases. I was only planning on buying one, but the one on the left is the “female” vase, and the one on the right is the “male” vase. The idea of buying one and not the other was not going to fly with the sales team...Together they cost about $7.00. The pieces are cast in molds and then hand painted. The detail is really beautiful up close.

The last thing I have to make room for are some of the little gifts from my students. The glass jar is filled with hundreds of little paper stars they made me for my birthday. They also gave me the mug with my picture on it. One of them had asked me to email them pictures of me to show their mom; when I opened this mug a few days later I almost died. The shoes were a gift on teachers day, and the scarf and hat were gifts on women’s day.

Now about that weight limit....

Couples' Massage

2010-04-19T00:32:00.000-07:00

I think that everyone who comes through Vietnam has some sort of massage story--good, bad, or indifferent. Sometimes the massages here are great, sometimes they are awkward, sometimes they take place under shady and sad female exploitive circumstances which as an upstanding world citizen you must avoid like the plague. Dan, Scott’s good friend who came to Vietnam last September, wrote about his harrowingly awkward massage experience on his blog here.

I personally am not a big massage person. I never had one until I was 22 years old, and then I cried throughout the whole thing. I’m not kidding; I wept like a baby and freaked out the masseuse. Something about the pressure points in my shoulders and the knots of tension housed there.... However, the recent stress of getting cornered by motorbikes and surviving meals of chicken innards lovingly prepared by my students in a power outage (i.e. I couldn’t see what I was eating) forced me to NQ spa in Hanoi this weekend to see if I could release some of my deep rooted, though somewhat understandable, tension.

The spa came recommended by my fave hotel, Rising Dragon 2. This made me feel more comfortable and assured that the spa was not simply a brothel in disguise; while our “ending” would hopefully be joyful, I trusted that it would not be “happy.” I went with Sofia, a fellow Fulbrighter. The spa was down a little dark alley, which was also home to some lovely stray chickens. When we went in they looked thrilled to see us and gave us tea; I always appreciate such gestures. They asked Sofia and I what treatments we wanted (Body Massage and manicure/pedicure, please) and then led us upstairs. They took us into a room where there were two beds very close together, and then told us in broken English, “Get all naked but underwear and lie down.”

No robes. No screens. No privacy. Turns out we had booked a couples’ massage, without the romance. It’s times like this that my maturity fails me, and I let out an awkward giggle as I did as I told, with Sofia doing the same beside me and the two young Vietnamese women standing about 3 feet away watching.

I don’t have a problem with being naked or naked people. I actually really like to draw naked people. (See exhibit A. Sorry most don’t have heads. It's not a statement; I just need to work on drawing faces...).

But really I’m a private person, and I found it a little uncomfortable.

Luckily, my self consciousness lessened once the massage started because it was indeed really great. Of course, sometimes it was still a little strange. We were two naked white girls lying beside each other with two small Vietnamese girls in pajamas sitting on our backs, whacking us with their hands in such a way that it sounded like simultaneous whoopee cushions letting out. The masseuses would also talk to each other in Vietnamese from time to time. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I’m 99% sure my masseuse said I had fat thighs.

Despite the distractions, I came out of the massage pretty relaxed. It ended when the cell phone of a third Vietnamese woman who had a slipped in the room (to watch?) went off to the tune of some R&B song I had never heard. That’s Vietnam for you...

In other news, my manicure was good. I went with a light pink color, which Sofia nicknamed “Pretty Pretty Princess.” It sparkles. :)

Part One: Things I've Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos)

2010-04-15T07:01:00.000-07:00

My time in Vietnam is drawing to a close. Well, not really: I’ve still got 7 weeks here, but time is relative. Compared to the 9 1/2 months already spent, trust me that 7 weeks is close to the closing. I have a lot to get done before I go. A portfolio of my work is due to Fulbright, my students are putting on a Drama Competition, Final Exam period is around the corner, I have a bit of traveling left, and the job search continues to be ignored. But the truly most difficult task in the coming weeks?

PACKING!!!!!!

The other day, while lying on my bed reading home decorating blogs and dreaming of New York apartments I'm light years away from affording, I glanced around my tiny flat and started seizing up. I have so much STUFF! Where did it all come from and how the hell will I ever get it all home?

Now, to begin with I came to Vietnam with a lot of stuff. 130 lbs of stuff to be exact--that’s 30 lbs. over my Delta-imposed weight limit....30 lbs that cost me $300....

Add the many souvenirs, art, gifts, clothes, memorabilia, etc. bought in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos to the original stuff I brought, and we’re looking at some wide-load luggage for the return.

Despite these weighty additions, I refuse to be held at the mercy of a sour looking baggage checker again. My luggage will be underweight if I have to wear 3 pairs of shoes to board that plane. I have begun a cleaning-out spree unparalleled in my 24 years of pack-ratting existence.

Some of the cleaning-out has been made easy. For example, my lights and whites have turned an ugly shade of gray by the washing machine’s water (thank you, Vietnam water system), and my pants don’t quite fit anymore(thank you, strange Vietnamese diet changes). Furthermore, when faced with $300 in overcharge fees, a lot of stuff just isn’t worth it. I’m giving most of the clothes I brought to fellow teachers--especially those in between sizes due to recently giving birth or recently becoming pregnant. The life cycle is alive and well at Hai Duong College.

I also brought a ton of books to ‘Nam--teaching materials and otherwise--which I just can't slug back. I've donated them to the English Department, and their library has tripled.

Being a lifetime hoarder, I’m actually pretty impressed with the way I’ve let go of my belongings. The biggest reason that our parting has been more sweet than sorrow is the fact that I have so much great new stuff to take home in their place.

Oh, what is that you say? You want to see what I’ve bought since I’ve been abroad? OK!

This is Part One of a Two-Part Series creatively entitled,

“Things I’ve Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos)”

This Chess Set is perhaps my favorite thing I’ve bought here. No, I am not an avid chess player....YET! I have visions of taking this set to the mountains and playing by the fire while drinking a hot toddy...le sigh....Just look how beautiful the hand carved stone pieces are. This set was made by a non-profit that helps persons with disabilities hone artistic skills.

Out of all the places I’ve visited in Vietnam, the Northern Mountains around Sapa remain my favorite. There are ethnic tribal women everywhere, selling their wares and carrying their babies strapped across their chests or backs. Most women also carry a basket like this one. Its the hot new back-pack alternative! My mom--who has been known to host a Longaberger Basket party or two-- saw these baskets and immediately fell in love. She and I each bought one right there in the market for less than $10.00. They are extremely well-made of very durable fresh bamboo. I actually saw one lady carrying a pig in one, so you know they’re all purpose! I guess theoretically I could use this as my “market basket” back in the states, but I’m really thinking it’ll be a great place to keep extra rolled up towels or blankets in plain view.

I also bought this painting at a little gallery in Sapa. The artist, who I was able to meet, used black ink and watercolor. I like the simple lines, bold colors, and the expressions on the mother and child’s faces.

While on another hike in Sapa, I bought this hand embroidered tapestry piece from my tour guide Su May’s mother. Originally, this would have been attached to a cloth belt and worn by a Red Dao woman. I’m thinking of eventually framing it or putting it under glass on my sewing table desk at home.

(image from Vietnam-quilts.com)

Vietnam has a few really great non-profit organizations that benefit female craftsmen in the poorest regions of the country. I bought a quilt similar to this one at Vietnam-Quilts. The money from each purchase goes back to help the community of the same quilters who completed it. My quilt has a pineapple pattern!! One side is red and the other is white, but all stitching is red. I chose the design, color, stitching, etc. It took about 2 months to complete, and now it’s en route to America with an ETA of June.

Craftlink is another great non-profit organization. You can be sure that the products you buy there are well made and that the money goes back to the actual artisans and their communities. I’ve bought wallets, scarves, a purse, these small set of ink paintings, etc, etc. They sell great gifts at very reasonable prices for the high level of craftsmanship.

Yeah...I’ve bought a lot of scarves... The black and green wool scarf is from Sapa. Women in certain ethnic groups rock scarves like this around their heads, but usually in much more colorful plaids. I liked that this one was more simple and versatile, but still unique with the green stripe and dark dye. I’ll wear it with my pea coat next December.

The purple and black silk scarf is from Laos. Laos had the most beautiful woven designs, and these are my favorite colors. While trekking around Luang Prabang, my friend Anne and I left the main tourist drag by way of a rickety bamboo bridge, only to find ourselves in a quiet village with a teeny tiny old Laotian lady at a loom.

The Rickety Bridge

The teeny tiny old Laotian Lady

The last scarf on the right is from Cambodia. Everyone in Cambodia wears one of these cotton gingham scarves..little old ladies wrap them around their heads, young girls tie them as sarongs, middle aged men wear them as belts...I just like to wear it around my neck:).

That's all for Part One: Things I've Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos). Stay tuned in the next few days for Part Two: Things I've Bought in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos).

The Ugly Truth

2010-04-12T05:18:00.000-07:00

You want to know the truth? The real truth? I’ll tell you the truth. Sometimes Vietnam blows. Sometimes you wake up with 2 mosquito bites on your lower lip. Sometimes rats poop in your sauce pan. Sometimes the water coming out of your shower turns brown midstream. Sometimes your clothes mold and smell like mildew because of the weather. Sometimes you ignore your Vietnam-induced lactose intolerance and have to face the consequences.

See, if you really want to understand life in ‘Nam, you have to realize that its not all quirky coffee shops, trips to pagodas, and cultural exchanges amidst the rolling rice fields. It’s hard work, dudes! And while most of the time you can chalk the tough stuff up to “learning experiences,” there are other times when you just have to throw yourself on the ground of your mosquito-gecko-rat infested apartment and, pounding your fists against the ground, cry out, “Why God!? Haven’t I learned enough?!?!? Can’t I go home now?!?! Where people love me and I can have dairy products?!?!

All joking aside, the mosquitoes have quite literally been eating me alive, and, yes, I did wake up one morning last week with a fat lower lip from a double-bite. However, there is an upside!! I had been under the impression that the rainy weather was responsible for the mosquitoes and everyone was getting bit. Au contraire. This weekend I saw some American friends who have thus far been un-sucked by the little suckers, and they were able to shed some light on why I might be the favored dish of the Hai Duong mosquito swarm. Mia, who is always up on the latest news breakthroughs, told me that she read an article saying mosquitoes may be most attracted to people with high stress levels. Then Uyen, who is good at math (unrelated, but true), asked if I eat a lot of fruit, because that changes the scent of your sweat and attracts mosquitoes as well.

Apparently all I have to do to keep these mosquitoes at bay is relax and stop eating fruit, or at least stop eating 2 pineapples a day (What? Is that excessive? They’re cheap and delicious...). Ok, in reality, I don’t know how to relax and, as I told my friends while eating Indian food, the fiber of pineapples keeps me regular; I can’t give that up. I guess I’ll have to keep sleeping fully clothed and sprayed down with Off!.

The sauce-pan-rat-poop debacle also really pushed me over the edge. I have long known that I have a rat which comes into my kitchen at night; I can hear him scurry as the clock strikes twelve. I’ve also grown accustomed to finding his poop on the floor and counters. He’s clearly made his presence known, so why did he have to jump 4 inches INTO my sauce pan to do his business? Upon finding the evidence and feeling mocked, violated, and above all else grossed out, I did what every other independent, self-sufficient female living alone in Vietnam would have done: I called a man in America. More specifically, I called Scott. He said comforting things like,

“At least it pooped so you knew it was there. Think of the times it’s been in there and you never knew!”

And

“At least you saw the poop. Think of the times you didn’t and cooked in the pot anyway!”

And

“Why is your chest red? Are you breaking out in hives?”

The upside to the Rat Poop Incident 2010? Come on, it’s kind of funny. Even I can see that.

Now it’s Monday of this week, and despite the things that sometimes happen in Vietnam, I’m feeling recharged after a great weekend with friends in Hanoi. The sun is shining for the first time in weeks, my nails are painted a cute coral red, and another week is underway. We’re going full steam ahead to May, and May is almost June. And, not that I’m counting down, but in June I’m going home, where people love me and I can eat cheese.

The culture-shock-to-come

2010-04-11T06:58:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am here:

In 2 months, I will be here:

What will that feel like? Any guesses? Comment below.

xoMaddie

Coffee Shop Books

2010-04-02T21:50:00.000-07:00

Most days in my little town in Northern Vietnam, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop feeling rather conspicuously American, or at the very least, conspicuously white. Despite other changes over the last 8 months(8 months!!!), my pasty pallor and big brown eyes have remained the same. A small stature and straightened hair have helped me blend in, but still--good, bad, or indifferent--I stand out in a crowd. I can’t imagine being a leggy blond...Sure, I’ve dreamed of it, but I can’t imagine it.

Very few women go out for coffee or meals alone here, further epitomizing me as THE “single, white, female.” So, what happens? Well, I tend to attract uninvited male table-mates dared by their friends to A) make small talk (in Vietnamese) and B) sit uncomfortably close to me.

I’m a friendly girl, really I am. And I can certainly enjoy the company of the opposite sex. But let’s be honest: it’s awkward. I can hardly speak Vietnamese, but the one phrase I can always recognize is “Do you want to marry a Vietnamese man?” It is, after all, the #1 most commonly asked question here in Vietnam. I usually respond by saying, in broken Vietnamese, “Khong! Khong! Nguoi yeu cua toi song o Nuoc My.” (No! No! My lover lives in America.) Over the past 8 months, I’ve made up more lovers, fiancees, and husbands than a polygamist. Immigration officials at JFK will hear of my reputation and send me straight on to Utah.

Truth be told, the Vietnamese men I attract at coffee shops are actually somewhat akin to the men I attracted back at bars when I lived in America: kind of weird, kind of desperate, kind of drunk. They are usually sucking the life out of a pack of Vinataba cigarettes, maybe taking a shot of rice wine or two, and sometimes leaning so close to me that the long hair sprouting from their little chin mole hovers dangerously close to my turned shoulder.

Over time, through trial and error, I have found that my greatest defense is good book. Reading is Power, dudes.

I arm myself with either my kindle or a good paperback and proceed to bury my head away from detection or scrutiny. Of course people can still see me, but this way I can’t see them seeing me. Reading does wonders to keep the eye contact and uninvited guests to a minimum.

In addition to keeping me somewhat undercover, books of course have provided another escape. In the words of Emily Dickinson:

“There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away...”

So, what am I reading?

I’m not ashamed to say that I just finished a book entitled THE VIRGIN'S LOVER. It was written by Philippa Gregory--of THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL fame-- and chronicles the relationship of Robert Dudley and Queen Elizabeth I. Who doesn’t love historical fiction and the salacious details of the Elizabethan court?!I have another book by Gregory downloaded onto my kindle--this one about the dueling houses of Lancaster and York and the tragic lovers caught in the middle. I can hardly wait to get started.

(I live alone in Vietnam...Stop judging me and allow me my fantasies.)

It's not all semi-trashy historical fiction; I’ve gone through many different reading periods here in Vietnam. I’m an emotional reader, and books provide a certain catharsis. There were a few months when I was really into reading about the Holocaust and WWII. Read into that what you will, but I’d definitely recommend THE BOOK THIEF by Markus Suzak and THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.

There were another few months where I just read a bunch of memoirs written by women...some of which involved Southeast Asia, and all of which dealt with life changing circumstances.I’ve read a few novels written about the plight of African-Americans in America, and some books that can only be described as Chic-lit.I’ve also re-read some old favorites--like THE ALCHEMIST by Paulo Coehlo, and GREAT EXPECTATIONS by Dickens. There’s no outward rhyme or reason to my literary choices, but when I look back at what I was feeling or thinking at the time, what I chose to read makes a helluva lot of sense.

What’s next on the “To-Read list?” My friend Lauren just sent me Greg Mortenson’s new book STONES INTO SCHOOLS--the sequel to THREE CUPS OF TEA--and I’m getting started on that. I’d recommend his books to anyone. I also have had WAR AND PEACE downloaded onto my kindle for a few months now...maybe I’ll get to it before I leave??
Regardless, I just have to take a minute and thank my reading-teacher momma, who didn’t let us watch TV as kids--except PBS and Sports-- and really made me love books. I bet she never guessed that all of that hard work and hiding-of-the-remote would someday help me ignore creepy dudes in Vietnamese coffee shops.

Singing for the Communist Youth

2010-03-29T05:24:00.001-07:00

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.

Happy Birthday!!

2010-03-22T04:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Reasons to Love Hai Duong, Hanoi, Vietnam

2010-03-17T08:01:00.000-07:00

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

Well Helllllo, Ladies!

2010-03-10T06:46:00.000-08:00

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...

Tickin' Time

2010-03-03T21:08:00.000-08:00

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!

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.

Haircut!

2010-02-28T03:12:00.000-08:00

As in every relationship, sometimes Vietnam and I have our disagreements. The arguments can get pretty intense.

I say things like, "You're not half the country my last country was!"
And Vietnam says things like, "Well you look fat in those skinny jeans!"
And I say, "Well good thing I'm leaving in 3 months so you never have to look at my fat rear-end again!"
And Vietnam says, "Awesome! Then I can find a new American girl who isn't such a prude!"
And I say, "Fine!"
And Vietnam says, "Fine!"

But today Vietnam and I had one of those days where we mostly got along and didn't even fight in front of the kids.

I drank a latte, did some compulsive shopping, and got this adorable haircut for under $20.

See, Vietnam? We can make this work.

Lovin' in Laos

2010-02-22T06:21:00.000-08:00

I spent my Valentine’s Day with a former-monk-Laotian-man named Somkidh.

And that wasn’t even the best part of my trip! That’s how amazing Laos is!

After my very long vacation I’m having trouble forming coherent transitions, so I’m going to use the numbered approach to tell you why Luang Prabang, Laos is a banging good time.

1. The Town Itself-
If Disney World is “The happiest place on Earth,” Luang Prabang is definitely “The cutest place on Earth.” LP became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1995, selected for its unique blend of preserved 18th-19th European/Traditional Lao architecture and interspersed ancient Wats (temples). The storefronts and guest houses lining the main streets look like they’ve been ripped out of a 1930 edition of “Indochine’s Real Estate Monthly.” The only downside to the insane colonial cuteness of this place is that it’s filled with tourists and ex-pats who, like me, are tickled by its charm. The preserved colonial vibe melded with the high influx of westerners can sometimes give the town that “Epcot” feel. You know: a bunch of white people walking around looking at things that are culturally more interesting than anything they’ve got going on. Maybe that’s a little harsh...Nevertheless, the Epcotness dissolves when you get even just a little outside the town and see that the real Laos, and the Laotian people, are even more charming than the tourist town.

2. BeerLao-
I may sometimes talk a good game about drinking, but the truth is that when it comes to beer, my bark is far worse than my bite. Yes, some people have seen me slightly inebriated (and I’m still trying make it up to my sister for the unfortunate happenings of her rehearsal dinner...and subsequent wedding day), but for the most part I’m not a big beer drinker. But something inside of me changed in Laos.

BeerLao is fantastic. Its light, but not lame. Its filling, but didn’t make me feel fat. It gave me a buzz, but didn’t make me barf. BeerLao may have changed my alcoholic life. I even bought myself a BeerLao t-shirt. Who AM I?

3. Arts/Handicrafts/Shopping Scene-

Ironically enough, living in Southeast Asia has made me the shopper that I never really was in America. It’s just so easy to say, “Never again in my life will I be able to buy anything remotely akin to this so I must have it now or why the hell did I even move here!!!??!!!!”

I especially love anything arts-and-handicraft-like. Woven scarves, quilts, baskets, paper lanterns, small paintings, bowls, jewelry....the list goes on and on.

My room is starting to look like I’ve joined a local Hmong tribe, or at least raided the nearby village.

Luang Prabang did nothing to curb my shopping enthusiasm. The craftsmanship of the local artisans is just really fantastic. I’m also a total sucker when the actual artist/weaver/painter is the one selling me his or her wares; I make it my mission to be a global patron of the arts and end up buying in bulk. On top of this, I am the world’s worst bargainer. Every time I try to haggle, I feel like I am stealing food from the mouths of Southeast Asian babies. The result is that I often get ripped off, but I sleep soundly dreaming of well fed Laotian children and how great that market basket will look holding towels in the bathroom of my Upper West Side dream house.

(Upper West Side Dream House)

4. Monks-
Many people are drawn to LP by the many ancient Buddhist Wats. The Wats are all over town, and working, living, and learning in these Wats are young novices and older monks. Some of these novices are quite frankly pint-sized. The monks in Laos practice Theravata Buddhism and therefore cannot buy their own food. Instead, they collect alms in the morning for their one meal-a-day. While Luang Prabang is trying to keep this ritual holy, the whole thing has become something of a tourist attraction. Still, watching the monks collect alms from local people can be a very beautiful and affecting scene. I was most moved when I saw some of the young novices taking food out of their own alms basket to give to local children.

As I mentioned earlier, I had my own special experience with a former monk. Somkidh was my guide on a bike-tour of the town. Anne--Remember Anne my friend from college who’s a Fulbrighter in Thailand? Well she came to Laos with me!--But,well, poor Anne got sick at the beginning of the tour, so Somkidh and I were on our own for the day. Somkidh left the monkhood (real word?) a few years ago after spending 5 years as a novice and 2 years as a monk. He lived and studied at this Wat:

As it was Valentine’s Day, Somkidh and I of course talked about our respective trials and triumphs in love. Somkidh told me a story about how a few months after he left the monkhood (?) he was “a crazy man” and took a few too many shots of liquid-courage-rice-wine before his first date back in action as an eligible bachelor. He ended up waking up in his old Wat 3 days later, not remembering a thing. I told him everyone’s been there...metaphorically speaking. Not necessarily to his Buddhist Wat...

A lot of the Wats have this little horoscope thing where you pray to Buddha, shake a container of sticks with numbers on it, pick one of the sticks, and then read your horoscope on a corresponding numbered piece of paper. The horoscope was written in Bali Sanskrit, so Somkidh had to help me out. Somkidh looked at the first horoscope I chose and quickly shook his head and told me to pick another. I didn’t ask why.

When he read my second horoscope, hi face lit up and he said, “Oh, Maddee...this is maybe the best fortune. It says someone may try to steal your money or something like that, but they never will. And someone might try to stop your career or something like that, but you will always be a success. And your boyfriend or something like that will meet another woman, but he will always love you and hate her forever.”

I loved Somkidh.

5.ELEPHANTS- Just outside Luang Prabang, there is a reserve for rescued logging elephants. It’s called Elephant Village. http://www.elephantvillage-laos.com/. The following pictures speak for themselves.

Visit Laos!

What's Hot in Kampot?

2010-02-20T04:27:00.000-08:00

So Yeah. Cambodia was pretty fascinating. After the trip to Siem Reap/Angkor Wat and Phnom Penh, Corinne, Emily and I headed to Kampot. While we loved our first two stops in Cambodia, we were looking to get away from the droves of tourists. For our third and final stop, we headed to a little river town called Kampot.

Driving through the Cambodian countryside, you can definitely see resemblances to the South of Vietnam. The starkest difference between the two Mekong-sharing countries is really the size of population; Cambodia just has so many fewer people than Vietnam!!You drive through Vietnam, even in the countryside, and the roads are fully lined with cinderblock houses and the traffic never seems to let up. In Cambodia, the traditional wooden houses are scattered hundreds of meters apart, and there are stretches of road with nary a motorbike in sight.

Cambodia also appears to be at a younger stage of development than Vietnam. That being said, the tourism is certainly just as, if not more so, developed in Cambodia. With fewer people and a more concentrated area of tourists than, say, Hanoi, the cities in Cambodia feel more accessible. However, outside the main cities, Cambodia seems to be living in that stage of development where a country is finally on a somewhat even keel, but has not yet started cleaning out its cupboards--whereas Vietnam has emptied its cupboards and is now hurling cans of peas and corn in every direction. It’ll be interesting to see how further change comes to Cambodia, versus how development and rebuilding has succotash-ed Vietnam.

But enough about that! What’s Hot in Kampot?!

Emily and Corinne, obviously.

Kampot is cute. Cute town. Cute restaurants. Cute kids. The only thing to do there is really eat by the river (which is lovely) and go up to Bokor National Park (which we did).

A charming young Cambodia man named You-Run (phonetically) was our guide. And here's a special message for my mom:

We were told there would be a 2 1/2 hour hike up the mountain before arriving at what was once a French hill station. We were not told the 2 1/2 hour hike up the mountain would be more like a 2 1/2 hour hike up the steep side of a cliff.

Eventually we made it to the top, or almost to the top; they sent a truck to pick us up for the last leg. The hill station was kind of freaky. If Angkor Wat is ancient ruins, this place is modern ruins. The French left in 1954, but Cambodian people still lived in the town and stayed in the hotel until the Khmer Rouge drove them out in 1975. Today all that’s left are the stone shells of a ghost town, some of which has been riddled by Khmer Rouge bullets. Spooky, yes, but kind of cool to explore.

The most exciting (not in a good way) event of my day came when I realized I was missing my camera. We were away from the old hotel at that point, but I thought maybe I’d left the camera on the back steps. You-Run ran with me back to the hotel, but neither of us could find the camera.

Surprise, surprise, I started to cry...Then You-Run said that he felt like crying, too...it was all quite a scene.

Then You-Run remembered that a lady selling drinks by the abandoned hotel had quickly gathered her things and suspiciously skedaddled away after I had bought some crackers. She lived nearby, so You-Run called the local ranger and said we would go see her.

On the way, You-Run asked if I had any money. I said yes.

Next You-Run asked if I would pay money for my camera. I said yes.

We went to the woman’s house and asked her if she had my camera. She saw my $20 and said yes.

Bribery, anyone?

You-Run was very upset about the whole thing, but who could blame the lady? I’m the idiot who left my camera on the cracker table:(.

And that, my friends, brings us to the end of my Cambodia trip...All in all, Cambodia was quaint, hip, and educational; the three best qualities a place can possess, if you ask me.

Next stop: Laos!! Let’s just say there were elephants....stay tuned.

The Killing Fields

2010-02-18T22:12:00.000-08:00

The most memorable part of my Cambodia trip was visiting the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Choeung Ek Killing Fields. I had a basic knowledge of the Cambodian Genocide and the Khmer Rouge before my trip, but looking back I don't really remember learning about that time of history in any high school or college class. History classes always seemed to get only as far as Kennedy's assassination and the Vietnam War before the semester ended.

Didn't they know a lot has happened since then!?

I figure this mind-gap of history is probably the case for a lot of other Americans as well. I made this video slide show to try to put together the pieces of what happened in Cambodia for myself, and maybe it can fill in some gaps for other people, too.

While Cambodia's recent history is grim, the country does appear to be healing. Just last year Cambodian High Schools began teaching about the Khmer Rouge and genocide in history classes. A better understanding of their own history will only help the Cambodian people to continue to move forward.

Angkor Wat-ch This.

2010-02-16T08:19:00.000-08:00

Live at Time of Tape

2010-02-10T07:20:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I had this great idea: I would "liveblog" my Southeast Asian Adventure! I told my friends, and they were all like, "Well, are you going to have a webcam and have people sign on to talk to you live? Are you going to live update as you go like Twitter? Is anything about the liveblogging actually going to be live?"

I told them no....BUT we could make videos! And the videos would be live-at-time-of-tape!

They were unimpressed and kind of confused, saying everything is "live-at-time-of-tape."

So my dreams of liveblogging were squashed. To be perfectly honest, I don't really understand liveblogging either... Blogging isn't like chatting, so the second you post the words or pictures or movies, they are then in the past, right? So what is actually "live" about "liveblogging?" The "liveblogging" inevitably becomes "pastblogging," and I'm not interested in saying my "pastblogging" is "liveblogging" when there's nothing live about it!

Rather than deal with the liveblogging conundrum, or with the bigger existential crisis of "What is time?", I decided to just try to update every 2 or 3 days. Seeing as I finish the Cambodia leg of my trip tomorrow, that obviously didn't happen either. I'm sorry.

And now I'd like to tell you all about Angkor Wat, Phnom Penh , and Kampot, but I'm feeling really sleepy. I know I wouldn't be able to do my pictures/stories any justice in my current condition, and tomorrow I catch a plane for Laos, where I'll be completely incommunicado for 4 more days, so why break the silence now?

Instead of the slideshow/movies/magic I'll be posting eventually, I will tell you this: Cambodia has been awesome, and I can't wait to show it off...
In the meantime: check out these few live pics.

(**All pictures were live at time of shot)

"When I was in 'Nam" goes Global!

2010-02-04T05:36:00.000-08:00

My school is closing for two weeks for the Lunar New Year, which I means I get to use my 2 week "leave of country" allowance. I'll be doing a whirlwind 5 day tour of Cambodia before hopping up to Luang Prabang, Laos to spend some quality time in and around the Jungle. There will be elephants.

Depending on the internet capabilities of Angkor Wat, I will try to update as I go. Apparently the place has been around forever, so you'd think they'd at least have wifi by now. Stay tuned...

Gosh I love the look of visas in my Passport...

Little Italy, Viet Nam

2010-02-03T00:30:00.000-08:00

Last week while I was talking to Scott on Skype, it came up that I had never seen THE GODFATHER. Like all men of a certain age and ethnic background, and especially men of a certain city, he was appropriately aghast. So he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: he would send me the GODFATHER movies via iTunes, and I would enjoy them. Like it or not.

And truth be told I did like them. Now, I admit I couldn’t watch all the killing scenes. If I knew one was coming, I would keep listening but minimize the movie window on my computer. As you might imagine, a decent portion of Francis Ford Coppola’s footage was spent in a little box at the bottom of my Mac’s screen.

Still, it was a couple of solid hours well spent, and it put me in the perfect mood for one the most exciting things that has happened to me since I moved to Hai Duong City, Viet Nam.

THE OPENING OF AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT.

A decent amount of my writing on this blog has been spent talking about my culinary trials and triumphs. I know you get it: I eat chicken, I eat vegetables, I sometimes get sick, and I miss my Mama’s cooking.

A few weeks ago I saw a sign going up in front of a new restaurant in town reading “Ristorante Italia.” I was intrigued of course, but also skeptical, thinking it was fairly possible that this “Ristorante’s” pizza might be served with a topping of chicken feet. But today I walked through those red, white, and green striped doors and felt like Vito Corleone himself was looking down on me from heaven.

There were frescoes of the Sicilian countryside painted alongside the faux brick and cracks. There were vines dangling plastic grapes from the ceiling and racks upon racks of wine bottles lining the walls. There was also a single rose on every table, alongside little bottles of olive oil and mini pepper grinders.

And then I saw them. In the little office off the first floor of the restaurant. Two men. Middle aged. Salt and pepper slicked back hair. Portly stomachs.

Real Italians. Running a real Italian restaurant. I was so happy I almost cried.

I got settled into my table-for-one and ordered an amazing Margherita pizza with pesto and a decadent tiramisu for dessert. Mr. Arno Sorbella came over and introduced himself to me. He guaranteed everything was homemade and the cheese was imported. After lunch, he gave me a tour of the kitchen, showed me the custom made pizza oven, and told me to call a day ahead if I ever wanted anything that wasn’t on the menu. He also gave me a “Pizza passport” card, so every 11th pizza I buy will be free.

Give me a week or two.

HALLO HALONG!

2010-01-26T03:03:00.000-08:00

As luck would have it, a mere week after my harrowing, however un-touristy, jaunt “Up Country,” I had planned possibly the most fantastically touristy weekend of all time for my friend Anne’s visit.

Anne and I were roommates back at Fordham in the infamous suite 17F. Now, I use the term “infamous” lightly. We spent most of our time together in the early morning as she got ready for Yoga and I left for my 5:30am job at Equinox Gym. Sometimes we’d also pass each other during the afternoon, before I took a nap or read something. That’s not to say I wasn’t fun in college! There was one time when Anne came home at 4am to find me laying on the couch in my underwear. When she asked what I was doing, I moaned, “Waiting....”
“Waiting for who?”
I groaned and rolled over to my side.
“Ohhhh...” She said. “Maddie? Are you waiting to throw up?”
I nodded yes.

See! I was fun! I made some bad choices! Don’t let the pictures of me falling asleep on barstools at 11 pm fool you! I was wild!

Currently, Anne is on a Fulbright Fellowship in Thailand, researching Muay Thai boxing.
In college she was an African American studies major and I was a Theatre Performance major. We both hail from Pennsylvania and love the Pittsburgh Steelers. How the hell either of us ended up living in Southeast Asia is beyond me, but alas here we are.

And there we went: Ha Long Bay! Ha Long Bay is a Unesco World Heritage site and is currently lobbying for a position as one of the “7 Wonders of the World,” or so the billboard saying “VOTE FOR US!” attests. I didn’t believe this, thinking, “Whatchya gonna do Ha Long, beat up the Taj Mahal?” But apparently it’s true! Ha Long Bay is indeed nominated to become one of the New 7 Wonders of “Nature.” Vote today! (I did). http://www.new7wonders.com/

You could call Ha Long a tourist trap, but it’s legitimately fun so you don’t mind being trapped there. Also, even during a cold and rainy weekend, its quite beautiful with 1,969 limestone islands. Some of the islands also have some awesome caves, like “Surprising Cave,” which we of course visited, in all its neon-lit glory.

We stayed overnight on a junk (i.e. boat) called the Hanoi Opera. There are hundreds of these Junks around the bay, each reminiscent of French Colonial Viet Nam. Ours even went so far as showing “Indochine” starring Catherine Deneuve on the big screen. It was pure-touristy goodness, and I loved every minute.

Well, almost every minute. The last day I started having tummy trouble--just like a real tourist! I think it was the squid. This happens about once a month, and I take it as my digestive systems’ way of reminding the rest of my constitution that despite living here for 6 months, its meat and potato upbringing in no way prepared it for life in the bowels of Asia, pun intended. What can I do?

"Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls..."

2010-01-25T04:21:00.000-08:00

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” says the song. “Please stick to the rivers and lakes that you’re used to....”

Flashback to my 10 year-old-self walking down Donegal Springs Road on the way to the Mount Joy pool, yellow walkman in hand and my bffl Erica by my side, singing our hearts out as we personally identify with the street wise words of Chile, T-Boz, and Lisa Left-Eye--the collective TLC.

Flash forward to last weekend: Emily W. and I are on the backs of motorbikes going 70+ km/hour around the jagged mountains that border China. Signs yelling “Attention: Frontier” whiz by as our questionable-looking drivers again take that curve a little too tight and my heart again lodges itself in my esophagus.

We are literally chasing a waterfall. All I can say is I should’ve listened to T-Boz.

See, a few weeks ago Emily came up with this great idea to go see the largest waterfall in Vietnam. It sits right on the border with China and is supposed to be really beautiful. Emily doesn’t even need to sell me on this idea; I think it sounds great. Best of all, it is off the proverbial “beaten track.” I sign on, and we are ready for adventure.  

When you’re a westerner living in Viet Nam, it’s easy to get cocky. Not only do you think you’re better than any tourists, you also think all tourists are idiots. Oftentimes you are right, but that’s another blog post. These feelings eventually lead to a desire to go off the beaten track...To go where few westerners have gone before....To dig your heels into the Vietnamese soil and see where it takes you...

...to make poor life choices you will never be able to tell your mother about....

The plan was a good one. We would go to Cao Bang, the town where the waterfall is located, via sleeper bus. The ride would be 9 hours, but armed with my snuggie, kindle, Eddie Bauer reading light, and benadryl I’d get through OK. Emily and I also stocked up on Oreos and Crackers. Later we would find these packaged goods to be manna from heaven .

The bus was packed, and Emily and I were lodged in the back row where the bathroom would be in most bus-type situations. Being as this was not most bus-type situations, there was no bathroom. I repeat: 9 hour bus ride.The bus was filled with mostly men...men lying in the aisles, men laying their seat into Emily’s lap, men sleeping on my shoulder, men putting their feet onto other men’s seats, men with the stinkiest feet I’ve ever smelt. It was a long 9 hours, made infinitely longer when I woke up at about 1am to feel the bus CAREENING around steep cliffs and nearly plummeting off the edge more than once; I couldn’t sleep for fear that I would miss my own death.

We arrived at Cao Bang at about 4:30 am and went to our hotel. No one spoke English for miles, so between some creative Vietnamese (on Emily’s part) and some creative charades (on my part) we communicated that we had a reservation and wanted to check in. After sleeping for a few hours, we decided to do what we had come to do: see the waterfall! We negotiated with the hotel to arrange two motorbike taxis to take us there. We could have gone by car, but it was more expensive and HEY! we were there for an adventure.

This was a mistake.

We thought the waterfall was about 2 hours away. It was, in fact, 3 1/2 hours away and only accessible via some of the steepest, most dangerous roads I have ever been on. These were also some of the shadiest looking Xe Om (Motorbike taxi) drivers I had ever met. There were times I thought they were racing. There were times I thought they were drunk.

How was the waterfall? Let’s just say it was dry season. The waterfalls’ one redeeming quality was that it is right on the border, so now I can say I saw China. So that’s cool, right?

After the somewhat disappointing waterfall, Emily and I enlisted our Xe Om drivers to take us to Tiger Cave. This place was legitimately cool. The cave was used as a Vietnamese hospital during China’s most recent invasion (late 70s-early 80s). My pictures didn’t turn out great (because I was in a cave) but the rock formations were really awesome. Also, there were 2 little local Vietnamese girls who followed us through the cave and kept hiding and giggling.

By the time we finished at the cave, we were pretty well shot. We were also starving. While our drivers finished their game of pool--and presumably their shots of rice wine--at a nearby house, Emily and I got a cute old man to sell us some dry noodles and hot water. He kept talking to us and giving us a knowing look like, “You understand me, yes?” But we didn’t. It wasn’t English, but it didn’t sound Vietnamese either. Finally we realized he was saying “Bonjour” and “Merci.” We bonjoured right back, but explained that we’d come from America. Crazy to think that man probably learned his French back when France still occupied Vietnam.

Eventually the drivers finished shooting pool and beckoned us to leave. The ride back to town was just as harrowing, if not more so. By the time we got back to the hotel at dark, Emily and I both felt like we had aged 10 years. My eyes were literally bloodshot, and both of our bodies were sore from staying so tense for the SIX hours on the motorbike. We took a unanimous vote and decided to head back to Hanoi first thing in the morning.

There were two common phrases repeated on this trip:
1. This is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
2. We should be very proud of ourselves.

And we were proud of ourselves. Really and truly. We had gone off-the-beaten track and survived.

We also learned a valuable lesson: the beaten track is beaten for a reason--and the unbeaten track remains so for another reason, just as viable. You don’t gotta mess this.

Still I’m TOTALLY glad we did it. It was an adventure, and there’s no one else who could’ve gotten me through it like Emily. She’s a real trooper.

The next night we had sushi in Hanoi and slept like babies in a hotel.

2010-01-19T03:43:00.000-08:00

Here in Viet Nam I'm lucky enough to get CNN and BBC on cable and the NY Times via the internet. So no, I have not been living under a rock, and yes, I have been following the news about Haiti.

Since I've been in Vietnam--almost 6 months now--I have witnessed some devastating levels of poverty. When I had my preliminary Fulbright interview with Fordham's board, one of my interviewers said that his one concern about me, or perhaps for me, was that because my travels had only ever taken me as far as London, I would be unprepared to deal with the shocking poverty which exists in a developing country like Viet Nam.

Now, it goes without saying that I have not personally had to "deal with" poverty in Viet Nam. I have everything I need, and my complaints about rats and power are just the trivial ramblings of privileged girl from Pennsylvania--made more trivial in light of recent events.

However, like anyone who has set foot in Viet Nam, I have seen the poverty. Here it exists not only in the Northern mountains or some slum-like section of Ha Noi, but also in the homes of my students' families and on the farms of women I buy my food from everyday. Poverty is palpable to me here in a way that it never was in America.

Living in New York, I of course witnessed different levels of poverty. By the end of my time at Fordham, I could have recognized the homeless men of the neighborhood had I seen them anywhere in the city. But living in America, I also bought into this stigma about the poverty and homelessness that existed even right in front of me. I had this idea of the "American Dream" and pulling yourself up "by your own bootstraps." With the exception of children, its easy to look at certain poor sectors in America and think that they are somehow responsible for their own misfortune. They were addicts. They were users. They were criminals. They didn't try hard enough. They didn't look for help...etc, etc.

I will tell you that I was mistaken in this, and it is pretty hard for me to admit to harboring such an opinion given my liberal leanings. But if I'm honest with myself, those are feelings which I had and feelings that I think others have, too.

This is a view point which I simply can't comprehend in a landscape like Viet Nam. Everyday I see people who never even had a shot at getting out of poverty. You can't say it's their fault for not "trying hard enough"; you can't say it's their fault at all. You can only hope that their children have a shot at something better. Actually, perhaps you can hope for more than that: You can hope that their children demand something better. If Americans are too entitled, I often think that my students and colleagues here aren't "entitled" enough.

All of this is basically to say that as I sit in Viet Nam and watch the chaos enfold in Haiti, I have a different perspective on it than I would have if I was still in America. I also wonder, what if something like the earthquake happened in Viet Nam while I was here? What would I do? What would happen to my students, my colleagues, my friends?

And Haiti is an even poorer country than Viet Nam. What is next for them? I hope the help keeps pouring in.

Heading for the border...

2010-01-14T05:39:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow night I'm catching a night bus and heading to the Chinese border to see this....

THE LARGEST WATERFALL IN VIETNAM!!!

Get excited, folks. Get excited.

Comedy of Errors

2010-01-09T22:43:00.000-08:00

How would I describe last week? A Comedy of Errors? Which is funny only in hindsight because I put myself up in a nice hotel for the weekend and am currently drinking a diet coke at an internet cafe? Where samba music is playing?

The running water and power were intermittent, I SAW. A. RAT., my internet came and went, I SAW. A. RAT., there was a minor break-in to my flat, I SAW. A. RAT.

You already know about the rat. Someone suggested that I name him to make him less threatening. I name him “Better be dead before I get back on Monday.” I even made my own rat poison: detergent and peanut butter. He wants to go through my garbage and shit on my countertops?! OK. I’ll kill him.

I’m sorry. I’m usually not this violent. And to be honest, while I do honestly and truly hope he dies a painful death, we were getting on better by the end of the week. Now when I hear him in the kitchen at night, I kick the door to give him a little warning before I come in. I know he’s there, but I guess I’m kind of like the parent who knows their teenager is drinking but really doesn’t want to catch the kid and have to do something about it. So I hear him scuttle away THEN I open the door. I am wholly unarmed with the exception of the Dansko clogs on my feet, so if he is just sitting there I can either A. Stomp on him or B. Break into Irish Step-Dancing to entertain him to death. I’ve thought this thing through.

OK. Enough about the rat...

The intermittent power and running water have become somewhat par for the course, especially in bad weather. I can deal with the lack o’ aqua; I can even deal with the lack o’ light. The real problem is that I have no coping skills when it comes to a lack o’ internet. Seriously: My internet goes out and my vision starts to blur. This is definitely my problem, not Vietnam’s, and one that I should really address, but every time I get that devastating little “Website not responding” box, I start to seize up. Suddenly, I become terrified that VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE are emailing me about VERY IMPORTANT THINGS, and not only am I missing out on opportunities of a LIFETIME, but I may never see the light of Web again! Ever. I have actually gotten better at dealing with this since the beginning of the year. I used to go to my host contact to ask for help if the outage lasted too long, but she would always laugh and say something like, “Maybe it is because you use the internet too much? Yes, Madeline? Hahahah.”

I rarely found this funny. Addiction is no joking matter.

Oh! And the break in! This happened after the rat, and honestly to call it a break-in is a little dramatic. It was more like a “sneak-in.” I always lock my apartment door, but apparently I had forgotten this once. I was sitting on my bed reading when I heard hushed voices. The entrance to my flat is in the kitchen, then there is another door to my bedroom area. There is also a curtained window that looks from the bedroom to the kitchen. I heard the voices and saw shadows through the curtain, then just as the two figures came into full view through my partially closed bedroom door, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Excusssssssseeeeee Meeeee!”

Excuse me. Unknown men were entering my flat unannounced and I yelled “Excuse Me.”

Who am I? Emily Post?!

Now, I did yell it with great force--enough force to send these presumable college boys hurtling out of my apartment and running down the hall (I live on campus). I threw on my shoes and dashed out after them, but I really had no idea what their faces looked like and I never caught them. Later I told my host contact about the incident just so when people in the class down the hall told her I had come sprinting after the intruders she would know what happened. She was a little concerned, but she assured me I wasn’t in any danger: “It's ok. People are just curious about how you live since you are so strange.”

This is probably true, but I’ve really got to teach people here an alternative word for "strange." Different? Foreign? Exotic? Wildly attractive and intelligent?

So yeah: not the best week of my life. The good news is it’s over and I got a great manicure yesterday!! Getting my nails done is the one thing that really makes me feel like I'm at home: My nails are done by someone who's language I don't speak, but I nonetheless know she's talking about me the whole time. It's just like New York.

My Parents and Emma Do 'Nam

2010-01-06T20:18:00.000-08:00

After 5 months of great anticipation, my parents and little sister Emma finally came to Viet Nam.

Let’s be honest: I had been worried about the visit pre-arrival. Viet Nam is a lot to deal with (understatement of the century); I’ve been here over 5 months and everyday I’m surprised/shocked/thrown into orbit by something/someone/some happening.

Would my parents and blonde baby sister be able to handle it?
Would I be able to handle them?
WOULD WE ALL MAKE IT OUT ALIVE?!?!?!?

The weeks leading up to the trip were filled with planning on my part and incessant questions on my father’s part: Would the food make him sick? Would they all need the vaccine for Japanese Ensyphilitus, the rare disease spread by 1 strain of mosquito in the Mekong Delta? Would he be able to get deer jerky through customs? (Now you know where I get my inquisitive nature...)

Rather than rehash the whole 7 day Felix tour de ‘Nam, let me give the highlights.
Then please watch the video slide show I made. (iMovie has changed my life)

Top Ten of the Felixes-Do-Nam, Holiday ’09-10

1. Seeing everyone for the first time at the airport
2. Snuggling with Emma at the Rising Dragon (Emma actually doesn’t like to snuggle, but we did sleep side by side, and I got a snuggie for Christmas...)
3. Taking the night train to Sa Pa, and waking up every hour, on the hour to see my dad pacing, looking out the window, opening a can of beer, groaning in sleepless agony, etc, etc.)
4. Watching my mom master traffic (she was really good).
5. Watching my dad master chopsticks (he was really good).
6. Talking to my mom about my future plans, i.e. my mom calming me down after I freaked about the fact that I will need to find a real J-O-B come summer.
7. Taking a hike through the hills of Sa Pa.
8. Watching my dad single-handedly entertain at least a dozen female Red Dao tribe members for 4 hours.
9. Taking my family to see my school/meet my student and colleagues
10. The impromptu photo shoot that my students insisted on having with my parents and Emma, and Emma saying, “I love Vietnam. I feel famous here.”

Really, all those things aside, the best part of the trip--and I warn you I’m a sap--was just BEING with them....le sigh.

And YES. We all made it out alive!! They did GREAT. Really. And if none of my other plans work out, I know I can have a future as a cruise director.

Now that they’ve gone, I am officially past the halfway point of my 10 months here. I would say that it’s gone super fast, but then I’d be a big fat liar, and who wants to be fat? So let me just say it’s gone, and I’m still going, so there must be something to be said for that.

Now excuse me: I have to go try to catch a rat.

There is a rat in my flat

2010-01-06T06:31:00.000-08:00

He is small. He is black. He is furry. He is not cute.

I think he has been eating my trash and making the little noises I hear in my kitchen while I'm trying to sleep. He may also be the "gecko" who was eating my undies. I don't know how he got in or how to get him out; I only know that my two beady eyes met his two beady eyes as he scurried under my kitchen sink and dashed out of sight to God knows where.

When I was in 5th grade, and my big sister Alix was in 9th grade, there was a small gray mouse in my house on Chocolate Avenue. Alix's friend Holly was over, and they freaked and called Holly's very cute boyfriend to come over. His name was Justin. It all ended up being kind of fun--screaming girls, a pubescent boy with a broom, the shivering, terrified little mouse....

But today the only screaming girl was me, there was no man to be found, and the rodent in question was NOT a mouse. Blech.

Happier post tomorrow: I'm getting all my fam's visit pictures together...suffice it to say I wish my Pops was still here to kill Ratatouille, but we had an amazing trip together.

My Christmas Extravaganza!!! **(in Vietnam)

2009-12-21T06:13:00.001-08:00

It’s Christmastime in old Vietnam. What does this mean? It means that I’ve lost my mind and started bootlegging eggnog and decorating inanimate household objects as if they are evergreen trees.

About a week ago I was feeling rather scrooge-like about the Christmas season. Sure, I sent Christmas cards (yours’ should arrive any day), but overall I was being Blue-Christmasy. Then I woke up one morning and it dawned on me that the only way I could feel happy about Christmas was to throw a big old American Christmas party. (I don’t know how these ideas come over me...)

I called 5 of my closest Vietnamese teacher friends and told them they were invited to Madeline’s Christmas Extravaganza!!!

When that invitation seemed to cause some confusion, I said "I'm cookin' food. Wanna come?" They all said yes and asked if I would be cooking Vietnamese or Western food. When I said Western they told me that they had never eaten Western food and they couldn’t wait to try it.

And with that I suddenly became responsible for an entire Hemisphere’s culinary reputation.

Backstory: I grew up with a mother who could cook really well, which meant I never learned to cook myself. Why would I try to make dinner when hers’ would taste so much better? I then went to college and lived in New York, where most of my meals consisted of Alan’s salads from the deli across the street and Lean Cuisines from the freezer. I was busy. And lazy...

Then I moved to Vietnam, and suddenly wanting to eat meant needing to cook. What an archaic idea.

The first month in Hai Duong I just ate a lot of noodles. I lost weight, which would have been fantastic if I wasn’t also lightheaded and involuntarily shaking all the time. Finally, pale and hungry, I enlisted the help of Mrs. Thu. She took me to the market and helped me buy a chicken... A whole chicken. With feet. And a head. Then she took me back home and tried to leave....“But I don’t know what to do with it!!” I blurted out desperately, holding up the plastic bag, now dripping with blood.

“Oh. Did your mother always butcher the chicken for you in America?” She asked.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her, “No, Purdue did,” so I just said “Yes.”

Mrs. Thu came to my room and somehow managed to use my fruit knife to butcher the entire chicken. She’s an amazing woman. Then she left and I started to cry.

Since then, things have definitely improved. 3 weeks ago I figured out how to hard boil eggs. It gave me a feeling I imagine is akin to how the cavemen must’ve felt upon discovering the wheel: pure enlightenment, but also slight stupidity that it took so long. I now eat an average of 3 hard boiled eggs a day, sans yolks.

I’ve also learned some other valuable lessons in the kitchen. Like did you know that when you boil a chicken, the water becomes chicken broth? And chicken broth can help you make anything! And if you put tomatoes in hot water for just a few seconds, when you pull them out you can easily remove their skin. Online it says this is called “blanching.” Also, if you are using garlic, you can press the clove under a large knife and it breaks the inside and makes it very easy to “mince.” (That’s another word I found online.) Lastly, I have discovered that using the appropriate knife is imperative--and fun! Knives are very cheap here. You just pick them out of the knife bin at the market and someone wraps them in newspaper and sends you on your way. I’ve taken to buying knives like I’ve taken to buying jeans: obsessively.

I’ve also taken a liking to tofu. A stick of tofu, about the size of a stick of butter, costs 1,000 Dong--less than $0.06. At first, I was adverse to tofu. As a daughter in a family of deer hunters, the prospect of eating tofu had always made me feel like I would bring shame upon my father’s house. I had similar feelings before I started eating Sushi. I would take one look at the yellowtail sashimi and hear Dad’s voice saying, “Where I come from, we call that bait.” I have since moved passed these feelings.

A testament to how much my culinary experience has improved in Vietnam can be seen in that I now LOVE going to the open air market. It’s about 2 Km away, and I ride my bike there at least twice a week. I have certain ladies who I always buy from, and I love how happy they look each time I arrive. This may be because they know they can charge me twice as much as they do anyone else, but I like to think they just think I’m pretty. They’ve also started throwing in freebies--an extra tomato here, some lemon leaves there. And as I walk through the market, carefully inspecting the produce as if I actually have any clue what to look for, I can hear all of my most vital stats buzzing through the air in Vietnamese:

“American.” “23.” “Teacher.” “Not married.”

There is also always a great deal of slapping. I used to think people were mad at me; now I know that the aggressive whacking is just their way of saying, “Good to see ya again, White girl!”

(Me at the chicken counter with some students)

Back to the Christmas party: I decked out the apartment in tinsel and wrapped small gifts for all the ladies. I also played Christmas music and bought snow themed plates and bowls. My attempt at eggnog failed, but I did buy wine. I started drinking at 3, when I burnt the first round of onions. The meal was simple: garlic bread, buttered green beans, and spaghetti with a tomato, mushroom, and chicken sauce. Kind of Chicken Marsala-ish. The ladies arrived, said my flat looked clean “for me,” and sat down for the meal. The one unavoidably Vietnamese aspect of the meal was that we sat on the floor. I don’t have a table, and they’re used to sitting on the floor anyway, so we went with it. I lit candles, too, kind of like an advent wreath. However, unlike my mother, I didn’t make everyone sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” I thought that would be just a bit too much.

Everyone loved the food, which I think surprised them as much as it did me. They again asserted that Vietnam would make a good wife out of me yet. Well, one can only hope. I didn’t come all this way for nothing.

After the meal, they helped me clean up and wash the dishes. They also asked if I’ve been missing America because of Christmas, to which I gave a resounding, “Yes.”

I really have been. A lot. Knowing that there is a big, fluffy blizzard at home has made me pine for the East Coast even more. This is made easier only by the fact that I feel so blessed to have the teachers I work with as friends. The day before the dinner, I sent Mrs. Thanh, who is 8 months pregnant, a text message reminding her that the party started at 5pm. She wrote back, “It will be a very special dinner in my life.” That put on a lot of pressure, but I also found it to be something of an honor. It was a very special dinner for me as well.

Oh, and this is Minh. Huyen's daughter, and the guest of honor.

Geckos, and lobsters, and Maddie--Oh my.

2009-12-15T01:32:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I escaped the underwear-eating geckos of my apartment and headed South for my mid-year Fulbright seminar in Nha Trang.

That's right. There are underwear-eating geckos in my apartment.

It's a glamorous life.

I wasn't going to write about the miscreant reptiles, believing the subject pushes even my insensitive-to-overshare boundaries. I also didn't want to give the little shits the satisfaction of being blogged about.

Obviously my self-control lost out to my desire to amuse, so here I am, unable to contain myself, giving TMI about the lizards with a thing for my Victoria's Secret collection.

About three weeks ago I did my laundry, only to find upon unloading that some of my underwear was, well, holey. "Weird," I thought. I looked through my washing machine, which doubles as my hamper, for anything that could have wrought such damage upon my unmentionables. At the bottom of the washing machine I found a few loose screws that had been in my jeans pocket from the Habitat project. "Ah," I thought. "They got caught in my underwear during the spin cycle." That's it. Mystery solved. Still weird...but mystery solved.

The next week I did more laundry, and encountered the same problem. Again I looked into the bottom of my washer/hamper, and this time I noticed a bolt that was a little loose. More far fetched than the screws, but I thought it was possible that the bolt was the real culprit.

Meanwhile, the weather had gotten colder in North Vietnam, and the neighborhood geckos had begun to retreat indoors. I had seen only a few in my flat, but their strong presence was verified by the recent increase in gecko-poop, which--although small--is pretty gross.

Finally, a little over a week ago, I went to pull a shirt out of my washer/hamper, and saw that a pair of my underwear was already holey, pre-washing. It took about five seconds to put the holey underwear together with the nearby gecko poop laced with pink lace.

I lost it. There was yelling and cursing and the throwing of pots and pans. It was quite a scene--I just wish someone had seen it. I have since started using a new, sealed laundry bag. I have not been able to get rid of the geckos, and they are still pooping a lot, but at least my underwear is intact.

All of that being said, it's not surprising that I was eager to escape my flat and go to Vietnam's version of paradise: Nha Trang. I spent two days at Nha Trang University for my mid-year seminar, and spent the rest of my time on the beach, in a boat, or with Buddha. It was really beautiful...see pictures. You'll also see a picture of "Why Not Bar"--the closest thing to Bergen County this side of the Hudson.

Oh--and we ate fresh lobsters on the beach.

Home-town Visits and Mystery Meat

2009-12-07T23:54:00.000-08:00

Every week I get some sort of invitation to go spend a day at a student’s home with their families. I like doing this, really I do. That being said, these days always have the potential to turn into a hostage situation. The day begins around 6:30am, and by the 10am lunchtime everyone’s explicit hope that I will stay for dinner...stay the night...stay forever... has been made perfectly clear. In order to avoid all the awkward, “Please let me go home now” conversations, I’ve become very skilled at having plans mandating I leave by 2pm. This still leaves plenty of time for tea, non-verbal communication with parents (me smiling, them speaking Vietnamese), meeting the adorable and ancient grandparents, a big lunch, and, of course, the requisite afternoon nap.

This past Saturday, I found myself at Ha’s house. Ha lives on a small fish farm about an 1 1/2 hours away from Hai Duong.We went via bus and took possibly the worst road in Vietnam, but that’s another story. Once we arrived, Ha showed me around her house. It was a small cinder block home surrounded by a star-fruit tree orchard and 3 man made fishing ponds.

Ha asked if I like fishing. “Does the pope like to pray!?” I didn’t say. “Of course I like fishing.” I said. Within seconds I was given a stool and a bamboo fishing rod, and someone found a snail for me to use as bait. I was getting excited. I legitimately like fishing, and even more than fishing I like catching. I thought fishing on this fish farm would be like shooting fish in a barrel, like pickin’ green beans. Perfect. The family came out to watch me---the American woman---fish. I cast and began to wait.

Nothing.

Everyone seemed perplexed that the fish weren’t jumping out of the water to lay at my converse-clad feet. Even the father cleaning the freshly killed chicken in the water a few feet away seemed surprised. Time passed. Ha and her small cousins left and came back with a bucket full of powder that looked like saw dust but was, in fact, pig food. They started throwing the pig food towards where my line entered the water. For the fish with a more discerning palate??

Still nothing. I started having flashbacks to many a first day of trout season as a kid, sitting by Skippack creek impatiently reeling in and recasting as my dad said things like, “It’s called fishing, not catching, Mad.”

 Still Nothing. Now Ha went over to where her father was cleaning the intestines of the chicken, took some unidentified chicken organ, and put it on my hook. For the more carnivorous fish??

 Still nothing. About an hour passed and my crowd had lost interest. Ha decided it was time for me to throw in the towel, and I had to agree. She blamed the weather, which I thought was very sweet of her. We ate a fish-less lunch, took a great nap, and met her new litter of piglets. I can’t believe I forgot my camera--they were so cute.

The next day, Sunday, I had promised my student Hoa that I would go to her house about 1/2 hour from Hai Duong. Its always good to find an activity on these hometown days, so I asked Hoa if there was anywhere in her town to buy jeans. Remember my first terrifying/hysterical shopping fiasco? Well, I’ve since come to love shopping for jeans in Vietnam. Seriously. Its an addiction. They only cost about $6-10 dollars and they all have designer labels. My newest pair are "Dior." They're also sized by the waist, which I love, and since everyone here is short, they can alter them on the spot for no additional charge. I even got brave and bought a pair of skinny jeans with Hoa. They sort of look like they’ve been painted on, but in a not-totally-gross way.

After shopping, Hoa and I made the usual rounds through the village as she demonstrated her newly acquired motorbike driving skills. I met some local babies, saw some local water buffaloes, and had tea with some local Party members...par for the course. Hoa’s boyfriend, with whom she is madly and adorably in love, and he back with her, was making a hot pot lunch. Basically this is a boiling pot of broth brought right out to where you sit and eat. The ingredients for the soup-like dish are all raw, and you put them in to cook little by little as you eat. As I sat down for lunch, I looked at the raw ingredients and saw parts of a chicken that I didn’t even know existed. I made the decision to just ignore them. At least until they were cooked and Hoa’s boyfriend gave me the chicken heart and brain out of respect. What do you do to that??? You eat them. That’s what. Honestly it wasn’t as gross as I thought it would be. They just tasted "organny."

About halfway through lunch, Hoa’s aunt came over with plates of unidentifiable leftovers from her family’s lunch to share with us. There was a small exchange between Hoa and her parents before Hoa said to me, “It’s dog. You do not want, right?”
My face must have spoken volumes because before I could even utter a sound something erupted between Hoa and her family and the plates of dog meat were swiftly removed from my view.

I have seen the dog restaurants. I have even seen the dog parts for sale at the market. But suffice to say that being offered dog already on a plate in front of me brought my cross-cultural experience to a new level. Don't say I'm not trying, Vietnam. I really am.

I didn’t get any pictures of my time with Ha and Hoa, but I did take this picture of my dinner at my boss Mrs. Thu’s house on Sunday night. It was a great, traditional Vietnamese meal.

Thanksgiving Weekend in the Mountains

2009-12-03T08:23:00.000-08:00

For the last 10 years of my life, I have spent every Thanksgiving weekend with my father in Huntingdon County, PA at our cabin in the mountains, eagerly awaiting the first day of rifle season. Therefore, although unarmed and in Vietnam, it was only fitting that I spent last weekend in Sa Pa in the Tolkinese Alps, breathin’ the good air and drinkin’ the good drink.

This was my second time in Sa Pa, having already been there with Scott about a month ago. As luck would have it, I’ll actually be going back again when my parents come after Christmas. No complaints. I love this place.

When you arrive in Sa Pa, you can feel the distinct quality of altitude. You know what I mean--the air feels crisper, the sky looks cleaner, and you just feel so damn good to be a little bit closer to God’s big heaven than you were the day before. It’s amazing to me that the feeling of a mountain town can transcend continents, but you get that in Sa Pa.

Sa Pa is perhaps best known as the hub of the Ethnic tribal people who live in the North of Vietnam. The most dominant groups are the Red Dao and Black Hmong, but there are many others. I could try to go on about them, but truth be told I’m no expert and you’re better off consulting Wikipedia. What I will tell you is they are a fascinating and beautiful group of people. They are exotic, earthy, and unmistakably aggressive when it comes to selling their wares.

Our second day in Sa Pa, we had arranged for a 6 hour hike through the mountains and a few local villages. Our guide was a tiny 24 year old woman named SuMay who now lives in Sa Pa town, but hails from one of the Red Dao villages. From the beginning I just really liked her. SuMay only went to school through the US equivalent of 8th grade and has never taken an English class. She has learned complete conversational English just from listening to tourists over the past 5 years. Truthfully she must be a genius. She was dressed in traditional clothing, with the exception of the traditional Red Dao kerchief or headdress. She wore a little bit of make-up and had a dusting of faint freckles over her nose. She also had a sweet grin and a black cavity in one of her front teeth.

We started the trek, and taking it all in, I ended up somewhat apart from the group. This landed me next to SuMay. As has become my pseudo-Vietnamese habit, I asked her early on about her husband and children. Seeing as she is a 24 year old Ethnic woman, I was sure that she had them. She told me she has a little girl--2 years old--then skipped a beat before saying she’s been divorced for 6 months. She is the first woman here--either Vietnamese or Ethnic--who I’ve met who's had a divorce. I was surprised, but just kept the conversation going. Eventually she circled back to her ex-husband and explained how he was an abusive alcoholic who refused to work, stole her money, and just completely became a different person after they were married. She said, with the same awestruck regret of a woman anywhere who finds a man is not who she thought he was, “I just can’t believe I was with him. I can’t believe it happened.”

As I listened and said all the seemingly cliche but true things we women tell each other-- "You had to for your daughter.” “You’re so strong.” “It’s not your fault.” “That is amazing you stood up for yourself.”--I realized that she probably hadn’t heard those things very much, if at all. Turns out that many people in her village no longer speak to her and constantly talk about her behind her back. She’s not looking for another husband now, but she doesn’t know if with a daughter she could ever find another man in Vietnam. I think it would be so easy for her to feel hopeless and lost, but she didn’t give that sense at all. She seems angry, and rightfully so, but resolved and self-possessed.

The way she talked about her daughter, you could just tell how much she loves that little girl. A lot of the women in the mountains carry their babies in packs on their backs. SuMay said she always straps her daughter to her front so she can look at her. My mom once told me she did the same thing for us when we were babies.

I’ve been thinking about SuMay a lot since last weekend. What is next for her? What choices does she have? She has a childhood friend who married a Western man and now lives in California. You get the feeling from SuMay that she sees that as a chance out for her as well. I often recoil at the idea of an American man showing up here and taking a Vietnamese woman home with him because it doesn’t always happen under the best of circumstances, to say the least. Still, truth be told, if I were SuMay I think I would see that as my best shot, too.

After our trek, we told the hotel manager how wonderful SuMay was, and he told us that he’s planning to help her start her own guide business. I hope that happens.

Ironically enough, the night before this trek, 5 of us ambitious and independent American women sat in our hotel room and--somewhat obnoxiously in hindsight--talked about the role of women in Vietnam. We’ve all had different challenges when it comes to adjusting to our own gender roles in our particular situations. Some have had it harder than others, but all of us agree we’re looked at differently than we’ve ever been before. Things aren’t perfect for women in America, but it definitely feels like a big step back here. But then, you meet a woman like SuMay, or some of the very intelligent and progressive women I work with, and you see that the future here is going to change. I hope its just a matter of time.

Air Mail from Emily

2009-12-01T05:01:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving.

2009-11-26T07:03:00.000-08:00

Suffice it to say I have a lot to be thankful for this year. I was going to create a Thanksgiving slide show and then find a way to upload it onto the blog.

But then that got confusing....I couldn't even figure out how to make a collage.

So instead of a flashy slide-show playing some sappy country song about home and family, please enjoy some pictures of just a few of the people and things that I am so thankful to have in my life, in no particular order. Except for the first one. Because those people are the best.

I am Thankful for.....

Family.

Emily/Emily and Me at the HAIR opening/Emily's Hair in this picture

Emily Watkins/Wine/Good food

Eggs Benedict/PUKU Wireless Cafe in Hanoi

Sofia/Hayley/Burgers

Students who make it all worth it.

French Restaurants/Medium Rare Steaks.

Barack Obama's Inauguration.

Skype/Family/My MacBook

Rising Dragon Hotel/ Fulbrighters

New York Magazine/New York Friends who Send me NY Magazine/ New York.

Mia/Awesome friends in the North of Vietnam

Scott/People who deal with me thousands of miles away
Lattes/Hearts

My Dad/Elk Mountain

Fordham Friends/Going Away Parties/Emily's Hostess Abilities

Cece.

The McCann Family/Champagne/That Subway Sub on the Screen in the back.

My Mom and Dad/The quality of my gene pool

Friends/DJ Reynolds

Emma/Musical theater/Emma in Musical theater

Emma/Livi

My Mom/My Sasha/Where I get my brains

Dad/my Aunt Virgie/long distance phone calls with my Aunt Virgie.

Central Park/Ted Corbitt 15K/Snow/Uncle Chris and Marty: The Best Running Buddies Ever

My Dad/the Woods/Blaze Orange Being the New Pink

Alix/Dan/Pennsylvania

The Gibble Sisters/Girls Weekend in NY

Momom/Sasha/Adorable Grandparents

Jonny/Tara/People who religiously read my blog

Alix/Dan/People who are always there for me via G-chat

Lady/Lady being in America and away from Chopsticks.
America. 'Nuff said.

A Weekong in the Mekong (hehe)

2009-11-23T01:55:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I headed down to the Mekong Delta to visit my friend Emily for a Pre-Thanksgiving Celebration. Emily is tall, freckled, blonde, and beautiful. She radiates California in the same way I reek of East Coast. I wore black all weekend, she wore blue. Basically, she’s everything that the hosts at my school really hoped I would be---a disappointment they did little to hide when I first met them:

Day 1 in Hai Duong: “Madeline, are your parents really Americans?
You’re so dark. And short. We really thought you would be blonde...”

Emily and I became fast friends back in August when all of the Fulbrighters were living in Hanoi. One night, as the group of us were looking for a place to find street food, Emily and I simultaneously felt our indigestion riddled intestines rumble and looked up only to find the other also giving the universal eyebrow raise for “Where’s the nearest 5 Star Restaurant?” We’ve been friends ever since.

Like most things in Vietnam, my trek down South had its tumultuous moments. I flew from Hanoi to Can Tho, the fourth largest city in Vietnam and the biggest city in the Mekong Delta. My flight was good, and by that I mean I slept most of the way and we didn’t crash. From Can Tho, Emily had booked an express shuttle bus to Rach Gia, the town where she lives, about 3 hours away. I got a motorbike taxi from the airport to the bus station, and from there my instructions from Emily were simple. “Just go to the counter and ask for the 10:30 bus. They already have your reservation.”

“Easy. Easy. Easy,” I thought. At least until I got to the bus station and was immediately swarmed and grabbed by at least 8 people saying, “Where you go! Where you go!”

Overwhelmed, I thrust out the little card on which I had written the name of Emily’s town and bus stop. Four of the hawkers let me go and dissipated into the crowd; the other four continued pulling me towards a cluster of unmarked shuttle buses and away from the reservation counters.

“Khong! Khong!” (No! No!) I said. And pointed back to the station pavilion, where I was supposed to check in.

“No! No!” They shouted back. “Rach Gia! Rach Gia! Yes! Yes!” And all but manhandled me right into an unmarked shuttle bus.

People yell a lot in Vietnam, and it usually just makes me do what they say. I know that this is a bad habit, but with my limited Vietnamese and the fact that I rarely actually know exactly where I’m going, its easy to momentarily convince myself that these yelling, aggressive Vietnamese really do know what’s best for me. So I got settled into the gypsy shuttle bus, forked over for 60,000 Dong (less than 4 dollars), and then thought, “Shit. No getting out of this now.”

Don’t worry: I am very aware of my own stupidity, and as I look back I thank God that I’m writing this during my flight back to Hanoi and not in the bowels of Cambodia or on a barge in the Gulf of Thailand.

As soon as the shuttle bus pulled out, I put in my IPod and tried to zone out. This was no easy feat when you consider everyone in the front seat was smoking, someone beside me was coughing up a lung, a child behind me was pulling my hair, and every kilometer some masked lady sitting on a stool a few feet away from me would heave open the sliding door and with a high pitched primal scream try to convince people who were just standing on the street to get on the sardine-can of a shuttle bus. What did she think? That they would drop everything they were doing and hop in just because someone yelled at them?? Who gets on an unmarked shuttle bus just because someone yells at them?!?!?

......

As this was all happening, my IPod--always one for irony--shuffled to Paul Simon’s “American Tune.” I almost said out loud, “You know Paul, you’re right: You don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home, but let’s be honest: I also didn’t expect this!

The rest of the ride to Rach Gia had a few more notable events--I was switched onto another shuttle with no explanation, and, after a 1/2 hour in a parking lot, they took me to Rach Soi rather than Rach Gia. It was all very confusing. By an act of God, I somehow made it to Emily relatively unscathed--at least physically--and have never been so happy. Emily once again proved we are made to be friends by handing me a glass of wine and 2 Excedrin within 5 minutes of my arrival. She also pointed out that, despite the difficult journey, I'd probably get myself into more trouble with strangers in the States.

We relaxed in Emily's town for the day, eating and hanging out by the Gulf of Thailand.

Emily and the Gulf

Then we went back to Can Tho (this time on a respectable bus) and proceeded to have an absolutely amazing time.

Can Tho has the same attractions as most Vietnamese cities; one museum, one western restaurant, and one ridiculously over-sized and gaudy statue of Ho Chi Minh.(Hello, Uncle Ho)

But Can Tho has two other things going for it also:

1. A Luxury hotel with a pool and spa 2. Floating markets

I tried my best to photo-document some of the highlights:

1. Emily and I took a little river tour to the Floating markets. At one point our boat driver turned to Emily and said something in Vietnamese and made a little motion with his hands. Emily answered "Yes," then turned to me and said, "OK. I think we're turning around now." Five minutes later, our driver pulled alongside a barge filled with watermelons, tethered our boat to the barge, and motioned for us to board. We were welcomed inside the haul, which was FILLED with watermelons, and offered watermelon to eat right there. Emily leaned over to me and said, "I think I agreed to this."

Vietnam: the Country where one minute you think you're turning around, and the next you're inside a barge on the Mekong, knee deep in Watermelons.

2. Post-watermelon fest, our boat took us to a little Mekong tributary. There was a low bridge ahead, and our driver got up to unhook the canopy over the boat.
Me: Oh look, he's taking down the roof so we fit under the bridge.
Emily: Is he taking it off?
Me: It doesn't look like it comes off.
Emily: Where does it go?
(Roof canopy comes down on our heads)
Emily: Duck.
3. Our driver docked our boat and led us past this little cafe and into a fruit forest. As we walked past each different type of tree, he would point to the fruit and say the name in Vietnamese for us to repeat. I am fairly certain this was much more for his amusement than for our edification since he laughed every time we said anything. Still, Emily, being an enthusiastic student (and better at Vietnamese than me), and I, being used to Vietnamese people laughing at my incapability, were happy to play parrots.

4. Here's a few more Mekong pics. Now, I've never been to Disneyland, but Emily said the boat ride reminded her of the Jungle Cruise, sans the head-hunting cannibals. Thank God.

5. We got massages in a hut. I actually relaxed. It was amazing.
6. Our last night we had a non-turkey Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel restaurant. It was really lovely. We told each other what we are thankful for...and we both said we are thankful for each other....Awwww...
By Sunday afternoon, I had never felt so relaxed. Emily and I were lying by the hotel pool-- me reading what I consider to be acceptable chic-lit, her reading an article about Anna Wintour in my NY Mag--when an older American man walked by and pleasantly asked what we were doing in Vietnam. We were younger than the other guests by at least 30 years, so we stood out. Emily told him we are here with the Fulbright Program. His eyes bugged a little as he took in my polka dotted bikini, Emily’s ruffled, strapless bathing suit, and our not so subtle effort to get a tan.

“Like Fulbright Fellows? You two are Fulbright fellows?”

“Yep," I said. "Just wait ‘til our Mojitos come.
Then we’ll really look the part.”

The best part of the weekend? Chit-Chatting. At one point, as she waded in the pool and I dangled my feet at the side, Emily said, “Do you realize we’ve been non-stop chatting for 3 days straight?”

Yes. And it was heaven...

Eggs, Nails, Balls, and Screws.

2009-11-16T05:05:00.000-08:00

What a great weekend...
Here are some key things that happened to make it so.

1. Eggs Benedict.
I went into Hanoi on Saturday morning. When I first moved to NYC as a freshman at Fordham, I used to get a feeling when coming back to the city after a weekend at home in Pennsylvania. It was exciting and different, but also just felt right. That's how I feel when I leave Hai Duong and get into Hanoi. Maybe I just find something refreshing about smog??

In the last few months I've really been able to find some great places in the city, the most recent being Puku. Puku is a little cafe down a questionable looking alley and up a beat up set of stairs in the Old Quarter. It has wireless internet (which, UNLIKE Hai Duong, doesn't BLOCK my facebook!), comfy couches, and, most importantly EGGS BENEDICT. I stayed there for 6 hours on Saturday.
2. Nails
I got a manicure. It's light pink and makes me feel girlie in a very good way.

3. Golf Balls
My friend Mia and I hit some golf balls. We went to the driving range at the random and semi-bizzarro 4 star hotel for Japanese businessmen in Hai Duong. Mia and I have VERY little golfing experience, which was obviously very apparent to the man working at the range. We were there for 20 minutes before he left to find a hotel staff member who golfs to come and give us an impromptu lesson. We definitely improved, and improvement should not be underrated...

Mia and the good golfer.
I'm not saying I always made contact with the ball, but I will say I've got a helluva swing...

4. And the best part of the weekend!!!!
Mia and I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for their 2009 Carter Work Project. There were hundreds of volunteers from all over the world, and they're building 32 homes in the Dong Xa fishing village, which happens to be near my school.

On Sunday night, Mia and I headed down to the opening ceremony. We were a bit late and didn't know where to sit until serendipity stepped in and sat us with three Kiwis from New Zealand. They were fun dudes, but we figured we wouldn't get to be on their build team. The next morning at the site, Mia and I were inexplicably unassigned to a team so we were able to find the Kiwis and work with them after all!

Mia and I were put on screw detail for the first part of the day....a fact that let no ribald joke or word-play go to waste.

"Can we see you girls screw over here?"
"Those girls sure love to screw, don't they."
"Yeah, no one screws like them..."

It was just like being on a real construction site!

But in all seriousness, it was pretty funny. And the people on our team were awesome. I only wish we could work with them all week, but we can't get off school.

Here are some picture highlights.

The Work Site

The Kiwis

Team America (That's Matt. He is American.)

Mia, Me, and Tim! Tim is from New Zealand and it was his 55th Birthday!

The neighbors! This is Malcolm. He loves Habitat and New Zealand.
Mia and my screwing handiwork....

This is most of our team at the end of the day.

I have decided 2 things:
1. I need to do another Habitat project abroad.
2. I need to visit New Zealand.

And trust me--I'm not screwin' around--I'm gonna make it happen!

A Fly in Pho

2009-11-13T22:19:00.000-08:00

The other week I talked to my good friend from high school, Jenni Fasching, for the first time since I’ve been in Vietnam. After I grilled her about life, love, and her pursuits of happiness in Washington D.C., she asked me how I was doing. Feeling a little hormonal, I exclaimed into skype, “Oh Jenni! It’s just so hard!” and then dramatically choked in my tears and went off on a rant about all of my trials and tribulations here in ‘Nam. I finished and Jenni said, “But Maddie....I’ve been reading your blog, and it all sounds amazing and you seem so happy????”

So I had to ask myself, “Am I misrepresenting this whole thing here on the interweb?
Am I putting a rose colored tint on the picture of my Vietnam existence?
Am I a liar and a fraud?!?!?!”

The answer to these questions is Maybe. I definitely do put a happy foot forward, but I also just want to share things that make me laugh when they happen. Or, more often, things that I think are harrowing/ridiculous when they happen, but have the foresight to know I will laugh about when I’m safe and sound in the US of A come June, drinking multiple alcoholic beverages at my welcome home party. All in all, just consider my written positivism a coping mechanism. And hey, you don’t wanna read about my temper tantrums.

BUT! If you did want to read about my temper tantrums, I’d tell you this: when no one is there to send you to your room, or listen to you stomp up the stairs, or tell you you’re not too old for the wooden spoon, temper tantrums are highly unsatisfying and anticlimactic. Usually, my little hissy fits last for 5 minutes before I get over myself, download an episode of Gossip Girl, and pop two benadryl to help me sleep (I’ve refused to turn to prescription drugs).

After talking to Jenni and asking myself if I’m misrespresenting, rose-coloring, lying, frauding, etc., I asked myself an even tougher question: Am I happy?

I’m so glad to say the answer to this is getting closer to Yes everyday. Do I miss my loved ones constantly? Yes. But do I feel blessed that I have so many people to miss and love? Yes. Do I get sad when I think about being away for my friend Emily’s show or my little sister Emma's performance in the Nutcracker? Yes. But did I cry tears of joy when I watched my students rehearse “Heal the World” for English Club this week? Yes... Buckets.

So what’s my point? I guess just to say there are ups and downs. Sometimes I feel like a fly in a bowl of pea soup, or more appropriately a fly in a bowl of Vietnamese Pho. But then I find a noodle or a chunk of mystery meat and hold on for dear life, only to realize that I really am OK. And this is amazing. Amazingly difficult. Amazingly freeing. Amazingly painful. Amazingly joyful. Not to overuse the word “amaze” (too late), but when else in my life will I be amazed by something new everyday? Well, if things go according to plan, hopefully a lot. But who really knows!! So for the next 6 months, I’m gonna do by best to really live in this, temper tantrums, tears of joy, and all.

This is Pho.

ARE WE WEIRD?! or A Weekend in Mai Chau

2009-11-09T01:30:00.001-08:00

I spent this past weekend with my friend Mia in Mai Chau. I like anyplace here in Vietnam that gives me a chance to get away from it all, but I revel in a place that gets me closer to my childhood dream of being Maryanne from Gilligan’s Island. Why Maryanne and not Ginger? Look. Some women are Maryannes, some women are Gingers, and its best to figure out which you are at an early age. Me? Well, I have long accepted a fate of gingham and pigtails and been quite content. Besides, we all know the professor liked Maryanne better...

But I digress. We slept in a BAMBOO HUT!

It was awesome.

We also went on possibly the best bike ride of our lives through the farming valleys.

On the way we met another awesome pig for me to add to my collection. I think I’ll call him Hubert. I like how he was standing on his hind legs when I came over, just leaning on the rail as if he and I were two young hot piggies at a dive bar, hangin’ out and hoping to get lucky. That was definitely Hubert’s attitude.

"Hello, Ladies."

I also met this lovely lady. The picture says it all. I love old Vietnamese people. They are so sweet.

The main lodge which maintains the hut that Mia and I stayed in was really pretty nice, but like a lot of places in Vietnam it was still a bit odd. Tourism picked up very quickly here, so everyone appears to have just scrambled to get on the bandwagon without really thinking everything through. Still, there was a relaxing pool, decent food, and, best of all, Ethnic Dance Performance!!

The best part of staying at places like this is meeting the other guests. I’ve got it pretty much down to a science of who’s who in Vietnamese tourism.

First, there are always some snobby French. They won’t respond to you in English and they DO NOT like to participate in the Ethnic Group Dance. Next, there are the Swiss. They’re usually attractive. They usually smoke. They’re usually nice. They may even share their birthday cake with you. Still, they’re in Vietnam on vacation, so they’re probably pretty weird. Then there are the chubby Brits. They are rosy cheeked, ready for happy hour, and unlike the French, ALWAYS willing to participate in Ethnic Group Dance. Next, you have the Nordic looking 34 year old couple and their 2 equally Nordic looking children. You can’t quite place their accent, nor can you quite figure out what the hell they’re doing in Vietnam, but you know they make you feel ugly.

Finally, there are the Americans. They come in a lot of ages, shapes, and sizes. Most of the time they’re pretty crunchy and look like they need a shower. This weekend, the Americans came in the form of 2 lesbians, one who was stuck in the 80s, and one who hasn’t used a razor on her legs since protesting the War in ’71. This is a fairly typical US pair.

Right before we left the lodge for Hanoi, I ran down to the guest computer to check my email (I’m an addict) and left Mia in the lobby. When I came back upstairs, Mia had a bewildered expression on her face and blurted out, “ARE WE WEIRD?!” Apparently, the other tourists were starting to get to her.

“No," I said. "We’re not weird.”

Still, looking around at our constituents, I’m not sure if I believed myself. After all, we didn’t just choose to visit Vietnam, we chose to LIVE here....

Mt. Silverstone!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-11-04T06:28:00.000-08:00

Last week, Scott and I stayed at this awesome lodge in the Tolkinese Alps called the Topas Ecolodge . While there, we decided to sign up for a guided "trek." Now, there were lots of "trek" options, but there was only one "advanced trek."

MT. SILVERSTONE.

It was 1600 Meters of unadulterated rock, mud, and bamboo forest. Armed with only our brawn, we set out to conquer the mountain.

(That's Mt. Silverstone in the back.)

We hadn't gone 50 yards before we ran into these ladies.

Don't let their toothless grins fool you. Beneath that sweet facade there lies ruthless businesswomen. They took one look at Scott and thought the same thing I did the first time I saw him: "That guy looks easy."

They followed us for the first hour of the hike, trying to lure Scott into purchasing some of their wares. Eventually their persistence paid off.

The trek began on a relatively low incline. We made our first stop at the local Red Dao Tribe Community House. It was 9am, but before we knew it we were given shots of rice wine and taking hits off the bamboo tobacco bong.

This is Scott, who admittedly hasn't tried to inhale since he was 11, and Mr. Luong, our hardcore guide. I, who admittedly have never inhaled, didn't try the bamboo bong, but I did try the rice wine, which should be called rice whiskey. It made me feel like my tongue was melting.

We left the house and continued upwards. Just before things got steep, we made some friends with these buds hangin' by the side of the road. It seemed everywhere we went we were surrounded by children saying, "Hallloooo!"
After we left our new found friends, things got real. Mr Luong stopped by the side of the road, pointed to a small opening in the brush, and said, "We go up now." We didn't believe him until he disappeared into the tangle of bamboo. From there we began the 75 degree uphill incline.

It was a bamboo jungle, baby!

The trail we were on is used by local villagers to harvest bamboo. As we neared the top, we saw a small horde of Vietnamese girls charging down the mountain after a morning of bamboo-jacking (like lumberjacking?).

Also near the top of the mountain was a little farm. We met this pregnant pig. I loved her.

And there were these beautiful cows!!

Oh Livestock, why do you make you me miss my native Lancaster County Land so much?

Finally, we reached the top. We couldn't wait for the view!

Unfortunately, we got stuck in a cloud and the view looked more like a white smoke screen than anything else. But we knew it would've been amazing!

Still, it was a helluva great day. We finished the trek down and headed back to the lodge for happy hour at the outside bar. Musta been nice, huh?

Yippee!

2009-10-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

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?)

Bug Juice

2009-10-17T07:23:00.000-07:00

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.

Jeans Shopping in Vietnam....or, Maddie Got Back

2009-10-15T08:15:00.000-07:00

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.

“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.”

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.

A play, a play! Let's do a play!

2009-10-13T01:39:00.000-07:00

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.

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.)

A Collision

2009-10-10T21:04:00.000-07:00

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.

 See below:The Heinz 57 Prep

The Inhale

The Friends

The Singing Party

2009-10-06T23:31:00.000-07:00

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.

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.")

HARVEST TIME!

2009-10-04T22:27:00.000-07:00

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

This may be the happiest, most content baby Ive ever met. I love her.

Life, Love, and Pronunciation with Miss Madeline

2009-09-30T07:42:00.000-07:00

One of the classes I'm teaching here at Hai Duong College is English pronunciation for first year students. Our text book, and I use that term lightly, was published in England in 1977 and is entitled "Ship or Sheep?"***

In this past week's lesson, students were learning the sound "uh", as in Sunny, honey, cousin, ugly, and lovely.

The following dialogue is given in "Ship or Sheep?" to help students practice this sound. Really, what other conversation could they have given?

Russ: Honey, why are you so sad?
(Janet says nothing)
Russ: Honey, why are you so unhappy? I don't understand.
Janet: You don't love me Russ!
Russ: But, honey, I love you very much.
Janet: That's untrue. You love my cousin, Sunny. You think she's lovely and I'm ugly.
Russ: Janet, just once last month I took Sunny out for lunch. You mustn't worry. I like your company much better than Sunny's.
Janet: Oh, shut up, Russ!
Russ: But, honey, I think you're wonderful. You mustn't....
Janet, : Oh, SHUT UP!

Being Jesuit educated myself, I really feel the need to educate the "whole person" of my students here in Vietnam. You know, cura personalis and all that junk they fed us at Fordham. So after giving this pronunciation lesson, I decided to give a supplemental life lesson.

Lesson on Life and Love with Miss Madeline

1. Don't date boys named Russ.
2. Keep your boyfriend away from cousins named "Sunny."
3. If your boyfriend takes said cousin "Sunny" out to lunch, leave him.
4. If you accuse your boyfriend of thinking you're ugly, and he responds that he "likes your company," dump him, get a make-over, and go out with his best friend.

I have so much to teach here....

***Houghton Mifflin does NOT exist in Vietnam.

Update on Cooking

2009-09-28T22:29:00.001-07:00

I just semi-successfully cooked a chicken stew-like dish.

There were tears. There were feathers. But I did it.

Adventures in Cooking

2009-09-28T18:27:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I tried my luck with the Vietnamese train system and huffed on down to Vinh to see my dear friend and fellow Fulbrighter Sofia. Sofia is the Jewish grandmother this nice Catholic girl from PA never had. She fed me all the comfort and love I needed in the form of homemade chicken soup and tofu salad. I ate better during a few meals with her than I have for nearly all of my 2 months (yes! 2 months! 1/5 of 10 months!) in Vietnam. Seriously.

I may never be able to cook like Sofia, but I was inspired enough by her--and embarrassed enough by my own kitchen ineptitude as compared to her--that I have made it a goal for my time in Vietnam to learn to cook.

(Goals in Vietnam: 1. Don’t get hit by a motorbike. 2. Change lives. 3. Learn to cook.)

I get the feeling that I’m something of a joke among the other teachers. With many of them, the language barrier keeps us from going too deep conversationally, so the one thing we know we can always talk about and understand is food. Our conversations usually go something like this:

Vietnamese teacher: Madeline, what did you make for dinner? Noodles again?
Me: Yes.
Vietnamese teacher: Oh. (Giggles at my incompetence as a female)

Last week Mrs. Thu, my boss here, told me that she thinks living in Vietnam on my own will be good for me because I will learn to cook, clean, and take care of myself. She says this will help me find a husband.

Apparently Mrs. Thu doesn't put much faith in my charming wit and youthful good looks.

But in all seriousness, I really just need to learn how to cook in order to take better care of myself. Sometimes I am amazed by my ability to fend for myself. The other day I bargained, in pseudo-Vietnamese, with 6 very aggressive men who drive Motorbike Taxis for the cheapest rate across town.

That same day I forgot to eat breakfast and bought a box of crackers for lunch....Things like this make me wonder how I ever got a Fulbright.

Enough is enough! I have just returned from the market, and I am ready for you, lunchtime. Beginning today, if you are a vegetable I will sauté you. If you are chicken I will boil you. If you are rice I will rice cooker you. I can do this.

I am strong (strong). I am invincible (invincible). I am Woman. Hear me roar.

(Or at least hear me curse--loudly--at the damn stovetop when I inevitably burn everything.)

Visitors at almost 2 months in...

2009-09-23T03:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, two friends of friends from America happened to be passing through Hanoi (people do that these days!) and gave me the opportunity to play tour guide. First of all: you should know I love being a tour guide--any kind of tour guide. New York City Tour Guide. Amish Country Tour Guide. Vietnam Tour Guide.

So, of course, being their pseudo-guide was great. Its kind of empowering to be a single white female walking around the streets of the Old Quarter in Hanoi and realize that you sort of know where you’re going. Two months ago, “fresh off the boat” you might say, I didn’t think that was possible. As I talked with my two visitors, I realized that there’s a lot that has happened over the past two months that I didn’t think was possible. Its funny: until given the chance to say out loud what you’ve been doing, and the people you’ve been meeting, and the things you’ve been eating, you cannot really process what you’ve been going through. Sure, I try to reflect, but sometimes my own instincts for survival get in the way of my reflection and I just need to troll facebook, watch MAD MEN, or read the TIMES and think about how my problems are cake compared to Obama’s.

The thing that the conversation with my visitors kept coming back to was this real love for my students which is growing everyday. In each of my classes of 40 students, there is only 1 boy--somewhat ironic in a developing country where the role of women could use some progress. Not to discount the boys in the class--they are great, and my joke the first day about them being the lucky ones actually landed.

But the girls-oh the girls!-are just some of the sweetest, most inspiring, most lovely and graceful creatures I’ve ever had the privilege to know. I’ve been able to spend time with some of them outside of our classes, and despite our strong language barrier, the female connection pulls a strong current.

What do we talk about? Well. Obviously. Boys. We talk about boys a lot.

And clothes. And hair. And my new manicure. And GOSSIP GIRL. (“You lived in New York? Did you live on the Upper East Side?!”)

And what is expected of them. And what their families think about them being in college. And what they want to do with their lives. And how they miss their boyfriends, a number of whom are in the army. And how they are scared to go to mandatory military training and learn to shoot guns, but they too would defend their country if asked.

And so many other little things that come out of their mouths that just blow my mind. Some of the girls are goofy, some of them are girly, some of them are shy, but all of them have this graceful way about them which my heavy-handed American mannerisms envy. After 10 months in Vietnam, is it too much to hope that some of their loveliness will rub off onto me?

The other thing that I realized as I was playing tour guide is that, ironically enough, living in Vietnam has fueled a patriotism and American pride within myself that I wouldn’t necessarily know I had if I hadn’t ever left.

Things that happened here in Vietnam during the war were awful--for everyone on all sides. That’s what war is, or as much of it as I, in my sheltered naivety, am able to understand. Still, I’m living in North Vietnam, 34 years after my fellow countrymen caught the last helicopter off a rooftop in Saigon, and I’m proud to be an American. I’m proud when people ask me about my President, and I can say he is an intelligent, self-made man who is challenging America and Americans to be better than maybe some of us believe we can be. I’m proud when I talk about New York, and I see the looks on my students’ faces when I explain that if they walked down the street in Manhattan, people wouldn’t know if they were American or Vietnamese, because everyone looks different. I’m proud that I’m from a country whose government wants me to be here; that wants me to teach, wants me learn, and wants me to come back to America and talk about it.

I’m not completely naive on this. Every morning I read the online edition of the New York Times: Joe Wilson’s disgusting display in Congress. Kanye West’s loathsome hubris. The riots on health care at Town Hall Meetings. I get it; there are reasons to not be proud of America right now. There were reasons to not be proud of America in 1975. That being said, I’m living across the world and I see that my life is one giant opportunity waiting to be had because I’m an American. Somewhere along the line, some people did some things right, and they did so with my future and my dreams in mind.

That’s an incredible thing to realize. And I'm less than 2 months into this thing.

Manicures in Viet Nam

2009-09-22T23:49:00.000-07:00

Thu tu Wednesday
Vietnamese Word of the day: sự cắt sửa móng tay: manicure

The other day, a student of mine and her older sister wanted to take me to get a manicure. They asked me what color I wanted my nails painted. I said light pink. I think something was lost in translation...

The Vietnamese may not do subtle, but my fingernails are Bedazzledly Beautiful!

Advice from my 90 year old Aunt Virgie

2009-09-20T08:07:00.000-07:00

Chu nhat: Sunday
Word of the day: Lon: pig
Just got off the phone with my 90 year old Aunt Virgie Fitzgerald. That woman has never been one to mince words or keep her opinions to herself.

Here are some of the gems she had for me:

1. If it gets overwhelming, just come home. Don't stay there. Nobody wants you there anyway.
2. Get a maid.
3. Find an army base. You'll feel safer. How close are you to Okinawa?
4. Maddie, don't become sick. Whatever you do. Just don't become sick.

God love her.

I had a great weekend. Yesterday some students took me to a few local temples and then to my student Linh's family's farm for lunch. I just about died when I saw that there was a pen of about 15 little piglets. I just love pigs so much!!

My students found my affinity for swine a bit confusing. They kept saying, "Miss Madeline. They are gross. They have the flu. You know, H1N1." But they were pink and cute and I loved them despite their bad swine flu rep.

Just look at their little piggie snouts!

And their pink piggie ears!

But enough about the pigs. If you want to see more, check out this facebook album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2170967&id=10902081&l=e8e5ab2a76

I've had lunch at a number of student and faculty member's houses, and the most interesting part is always meeting the parents. Linh's father arrived at the house just as we were about to leave. He didn't speak a word of English, but he came right up to me, shook my hand, and said something in Vietnamese, which Linh translated as: "He met another American once during the war, but that is the past and now he is proud to have you in his house, and he hopes you will come again soon." Ever since I've been here, things like that just kind of take my breath away. I can't quite describe it. He asked me to take a picture of us shaking hands:

Me and Linh's Dad

Assimilation

2009-09-17T08:28:00.000-07:00

Thu Nam
Thursday

I'm one of those people who feels best when I look best--(Is there anyone who isn't one of those people?)--and I decided that the condition of my thick, humidity-infused coif was becoming a detriment to my mental health. Something had to be done.

Today I spent 5 hours in a salon chair getting my hair cut, semi-permanently straightened, and styled. In other words, Vietnamesatized. It cost me $15.00.

This is assimilation I can get used to.

My friend Bac took me and explained to the owner of the salon what I wanted done.
Shorter. Straighter. Easier.
She then told me that she and the owner, a man named Hieu, both agreed that when I was finished I would look much more beautiful and much more like a Vietnamese. Well, a girl can dream, can't she?

Over the course of the 5 hours, I think I had 10 different people work on my hair. At one point there were 4 people all touching my head at the same time, each doing a small, specific task.

Is this what communism is all about?

All in all, I must say I am very pleased; they did a great job. When I was finished, Hieu said he thought I looked like Victoria Beckham. I said, "Which half of me? Which half of me looks like her?"

Because Posh Spice is half my size...Because she's so skinny...Get it? Funny? Yes?...sigh....

No one got my joke. I'm not funny in Vietnam.

Here's the 'do:
Yes, I took this picture of myself. Yes, I was alone in my apartment.
Sometimes I am my own worst nightmare of a woman.

Cravings

2009-09-13T18:39:00.000-07:00

Tuesday: Thu Ba
Word of the day: xin chao: hello/goodbye

I knew this would happen.
My boss Liz told me back before I left that she thought I would probably start craving weird things at some point in Vietnam.
She was right.
Is this what pregnancy feels like?
(That's not a very funny joke.)

1. Coffee. Bad coffee. With too much Splenda and just enough milk. From Star-Lite Deli on 44th Street.
2. Pickles on Burgers. Mashed in with the ketchup and cheese. Under a slightly toasted bun.
3. Nachos with melted over-processed Velveeta. (Pre-lactose intolerance.) Eaten on the couch. While watching football with my Dad. At 1pm on a Sunday after church with the family.
4. Lean Cuisine. With Emily. In her UWS apartment while watching Real Housewives of NYC. Eaten in a dish with chopsticks. To make it an event when we couldn't afford to go out.
5. Lancaster County Sweetcorn. Grilled while in its shucks. With too much butter and salt and pepper. Preferably eaten outside. With friends and loved ones. Who appreciate good produce as much as I do.
6. Red Wine. Anywhere. Always. But preferably with Italian food. Any Italian food. Except Italian food in Vietnam. It makes me sick.
7.Pumpkin Spiced Lattes (I didn't even know I liked them!) from September-November in New York. On days when you can wear a sweater and scarf, but don't need a jacket. Between runs around the reservoir and work.

I think that's enough. I actually feel a little better just putting that out into the universe.