Good soup

Yesterday was wonderful and tiring and hilarious. Here are a few snippets from the day:

I went for a walk down a street I haven’t been down yet and saw a tailor. I went inside just to look around. As usual, my presence caused great commotion—I don’t know why I keep thinking that I can go unnoticed. The English-speaking son was fetched and he told me that no foreigner had ever been in their shop before. They wanted me to sit and look through many magazines to tell them "what my style is". Later they pushed me into an area, guarded by a thin sheet and told me to put on a green shirt that they had in stock (maybe the only thing there that would fit me?). I obliged and they told me that it was “good for me.” They showed me a fabric with which they wanted to make me a new shirt. I put my hand behind the fabric and explained that it was not good because it was “see-through.” The son looked struck with embarrassment and he whispered to his mother. There was talking and more whispering in the office and finally the embarrassed son told me, “It is ok. You must wear underwear or it will be very bad.”

There is a coffee shop almost across the street from our apartments, where a woman with a sad beautiful smile serves coffee, tea and other drinks. Twice I have gestured for her to sit down and she has been more than happy to sit and try to communicate. One day last week I planned my lessons at one of her tables and she came over and wrote in my notebook. Together we worked through it and I deciphered an invitation to her house on Sunday night to speak English with her daughter and nieces (I actually didn’t know that was the reason until I showed up). On Monday night I came to the same shop to have milk with a new friend. After a couple of hours I turned to leave, saying goodbye to the girl and to the woman. The woman smiled her sad beautiful smile as I walked past her and she reached out and slapped me on the arm! I quickly wondered what I must have done to deserve that, and she smiled broadly and said in slow, labored English, “You are beautiful.” I thanked her and left.

I bought some duck soup for dinner and was anxious to try it. I decided that I also needed some dessert, so I walked down the street to the pastry stand on the corner. I’m sure it’s a family that owns this and there is a little boy who brings the food and pastries out to the motorbike drivers. He’s so cute and I like to talk to him because I can ask him the names of all the pastries and he seems so proud to be able to help me. Today I picked a small coconut bun and asked the price. I pulled out a 2,000vnd note and it ripped completely in half! Laughter ERUPTED from everyone in the vicinity, probably at my shocked face. I know from experience that it’s hard to get rid of a bill with a rip in it, much less torn in half. The little boy giggled uncontrollably, and didn’t stop when I pulled out another bill with exaggerated care and slowness. Even as I left, they all smiled and laughed in my direction. They better be glad that I like to entertain, otherwise I would have been very distraught.

On my walk home, I showed the torn bill to a woman who I wave at everyday, hoping for a laugh. She pulled out some glue and took the bill from my hands. It disintegrated at her touch and she handed it back to me with a sorrowful look and a wave of her hand, and I imagined her saying, “There’s no hope for this one poor child. Let it go.”

I walked back in the gate of our apartment, waving at the security guards and taxi workers, pleased at the day, hungry and tired. I hadn’t eaten in over seven hours, a rarity for me. The security guards waved me over and a girl there asked me if I had free time. I have GOT to learn how to say, “no!” I was just so curious to find out what they wanted, and after a quick phone call, they motioned for me to walk and as I did, I was met by a woman. She apparently is an english teacher and heard that there were foreigners in our apartment complex and has been wanting to meet us so she can practice her English!

Another hour and a half later, I was reheating my soup on the stove to sit down and watch soccer on tv. I'm learning more about the concept of time here and the importance of relationships. And the soup was worth the wait.

The Palmers in Vietnam

Erica's parents arrived in Vietnam on Thursday of last week. It was fun showing them around the distric that I have become so proud of. I wanted them to see how wonderful the people really are, and as usual, the people obliged.


We took them to several places that we frequent and rode a bus to a local market. We also took them to have fruit juice at the shop with the young woman and her father, who speaks a little English. We introduced Erica's parents and the woman brought out a plate of fruit for us (it was some kind of white melon, but more chewy than juicy, not very good, but a very nice gesture). Then the man came out, producing a small box of candy, motioning for me to take it and put it in my bag. "Souvinir!" He announced proudly.

I keep being blown away by the generoity of the people here. I'm self-conscious that we are being offensive because we don't invite people over or invite people to have coffee with us. I hope we aren't offending anyone. I really like that no one comes to our apartment so it can be an escape for us, but we shall see how long it lasts.




We also took them out for sugar cane juice. We only buy it from this woman. Erica has been adament about our loyalty to her, and I am glad. It just seemed like betrayal to have sugar can juice in our hands when we walk by her (her stand is about 20 yards from our apartment).

Erica and her parents went to Danang for a long weekend. I am staying here by myself and the familiar faces I pass on the street seem genuinely concerned about Erica and why she isn't with me. Maybe they think we are fighting.

Please don't be concerned. I feel very safe in our neighborhood and even riding the bus across the city to fellowship yesterday. And anyone who knows me well probably knows how much I am enjoying a few days of alone time. Erica and I are getting along fine and I don't want to be here alone for very long, but sometimes time alone can be so refreshing. In reality, Erica is probably benefitting more from having a vacation from me.

So anyway, Erica has her camera this weekend. You thought it was mine didn't you? Nope, I just treat it like it's mine. I still don't have a camera, but I've been looking around. Here is a video from last week. We went in a shop to buy new notebooks and this woman just walked up to us in the shop and started talking and laughing. She patted us roughly on the arms and laughed and had the most beautiful smile. As soon as I started filming, she stopped speaking and laughing as much. I didn't understand anything she said, but her laugh and smile required a video.

Cassie's Birthday Adventure

Today I went to the market and WHO should I run into, but CASSIE SHIELDS!! How exciting! The two of us were discussing the price of rice and the shopkeeper saw a picture being taken and she jumped up and stood next to me smiling (not kidding). It was hilarious. She was really a great sport.

Later, Cassie and I stopped for something cold to drink. We sat in the little kiddie chairs and shared great conversation.

I have been ordering soymilk at these roadside stands because I don't want coke or orange fanta. I actually really like it now. Cassie really liked it too!

Cassie almost got in trouble with the police. She forgot to wear a helmet! That was very careless of you, Cassie! Everything was fine though; she is a very skilled driver.

For some reason I sneezed about a million times in my class last night. I felt like I was having allergies for no reason. Cassie was very sympathetic and really cheered me up. We stopped at this little shop and had steaming hot noodle soup. And we just shot the breeze. We discussed life, love, and new adventures while sitting in the little plastic kiddie chairs. Cassie, as usual, was all smiles.

That was a really good time. I will cherish these memories.

These pictures are a little out of order, but here we are hanging out before class...

Many Vietnamese are supersticious of the numbers 3, 5, and 7. These are my students who came early to class to finish eating. They wouldn't take a picture with just me because that would be three people (meaning unfortunate consequences for the person in the middle). Thanks Cassie for making this picture possible.

This woman is possibly my favorite person in this country. I just love her smile (that's about all the communication that happens). I wanted her to have a picture with Cassie, but she got so excited about the picture that she threw her arm around me, smiling from ear to ear. So, Cassie and I both got a hug from my favorite person for the first time. It was really special.

Cassie thanks for coming out for your birthday! I know it was quite a distance from Peru, or wherever you are at this moment, but I really had a great time. Come back soon!

My boyfriend

Ok, Andrea don't freak out. It's not true. However, Erica and I have started referring to a person as my "boyfriend" because of various funny reasons. Really this story was only for a select group (and their names are Laura, Erin, Katie, Helen if you read this, Kris...), but this was my best medium for telling it.

Ok, so there's a guy, who will remain nameless and faceless because he could google my name and find this blog. He works in the office where we teach and we usually see him every day. In the beginning, I got such a kick out of talking with him because he has almost no expression at all. He would say, "You see, it is very exciting..." with these slow unnatural words, with the most deadpan face you've ever seen. He also says that EVERYTHING is "delicious" and "good for you health." Those are his signiature phrases. It's almost impossible to have a conversation with him without him saying something like this. It's really entertaining.

Let's be straightforward here: I DO NOT like this man. It's not a remote possibility.

I just know that it's because of my own stupidity that I keep finding myself in these situations, but I like to practice Vietnamese and he likes to practice English, so we usually make small talk in the office. Lately, when Erica has class, I come to the office and read or plan my lessons. But this guy will pull up a stool next to him and tell me to sit down. Not ask. Tell. I've used various excuses, and he has gotten me out of each one (Erica and I try to be very conscious about our interactions with the opposite sex, and since we have so much to learn about the culture here, we try never to be alone with guys. ever). I feel more at ease when other people in the office come over to hear my explanation of some idiom or to listen to me butcher their native tongue.

I'm not sure exactly why we gave him this nickname, "Carolyn's boyfriend," because he has told Erica that she's beautiful several times and never told me that (lousy boyfriend). I accuse Erica of being naïve about her older guy students flirting with her, and I don't think I'm doing that here. Though I can't really figure this guy out (or make eye contact with him) I just keep having the most awkward interactions (story of my life) with him. Here is merely one of them:

I want to get a video of him talking because I think it would be enjoyable. I really shouldn't even be talking about him though. Gosh, now I feel bad... I'm misusing this blog!

Our Apartment

I told you that our landlady and her daughters came to get us and take us to a different apartment. It was nice. Actually, it was IDENTICAL to our current apartment except for the headboards on the beds and the view from the windows. Ok... that's not entirely true. That apartment seemed to have just been finished with a little work left to do.

Erica and I talked about it. I kind of wanted to move because of a leaky toilet and a leaky air conditioner, but kind of didn't want to move because I HATE moving. We're comfortable here and we like our neighbors. Moving, besides being a hassle, would be kind of a gamble. The new apartment is on the 10th floor of the "E" building and we don't know the new neighbors. There could be lots of young people to talk with and become our new best friends. Or the new apartment could be the haven for all of the screaming babies in the city. We just don't know.

So, we're talking about it, thinking, and I'm pretty sure that we probably won't move because neither of us felt very strongly about it. Then I received the following text:

"Hi Carolyn and Erica, my mom love both you. therefore, my mom want to change new department for both you. there, you feel comfotable and fresh air so much. furrniture sufficient. :) sorry for troublesome some you."

Then a moment later:

"If you want some one help you. my mom and some young man help you both everywhere. dont worry..goodnight..:)"

Our landlady and her daughter seemed pretty adament that we should move to this newer and better apartment and we really couldn't think of a reason to protest. They also seemd to say that whenever we were ready, we could move at our convenience. The next day I had four missed calls on my cell phone. Ok, I was actually holding my phone when it rang, but sometimes I do that (in my defense, I didn't recognize the number).

It turns out that our school had been trying to get in touch with us so we could move ASAP! It was our day off, so we started packing. We have acquired books and some household items (water filter, electric kettle, towels, etc), but overall we don't have an abundance of things so it wasn't the normal misery that I expect from moving. Our landlady's daughter came over and got us started moving out. We got the suitcases to the elevator, and the landlady called. Her daughter translated, "Ok, so you move in three days."

Today

Good day today. Great day.

Erica and I made breakfast and got some coffee-to-go on our way to the bus stop. We passed a woman who we wave to every day and she looked genuinely hurt that we bought coffee somewhere else. We had no idea that she sold coffee! Using charades we tried to express that we would never again violate our friendship by doing such a horrendous thing as buying coffee from someone else. She silently nodded in understanding and we berated ourselves for not knowing (we're very eager to please).

The bus ride went smoothly. Erica was offered a seat when someone got off. She gestured to an older woman to sit, and the woman thanked her but declined. She gave us an explanation, but we didn't understand. So Erica sat, and the two American girls on the bus (I’m talking about us), along with the usual stares, received approving looks from many other passengers, and a peace sign from the grinning guy in the back seat.

We got off the bus and crossed the street like pros. Our fellowship is now meeting in a different location every week and we started walking to where we thought we were supposed to go. A woman from our fellowship pulled over on her motorbike and offered us a ride. She had dropped her kids off and come back for us. This might seem like a small gesture, but each week we are asked, “Oh are you new here?” Granted, we are only averaging every-other week at this fellowship, but we recognize so many people there, so we are starting to wonder what it is about us that makes us so easily forgotten. Erica and I squeezed on the back of the motorbike smiling, thankful to be remembered.

The talk was given by Steve, from South Africa, and his accent (I’m with you Janell) makes one pay attention. He spoke on ‘dealing with offence (I’ll complain about British spelling later),’ and spoke on revenge, forgiveness, justice, mercy, and grace. They're going through Acts right now and he began by scoffing at those people who talk about all of the things they would say to the Father if they had the chance. And he reminded us of Paul, who saw just a glimpse of a bright light and was struck down and blind. He had my attention the entire time, and not just because of the accent.

Afterwards we went to a Thai restaurant in District 1 with Janell, Jannene, and Sarah. Great food, great people. I love hearing about Janell's and Sarah's jobs, dealing with HIV and reproductive health. I think I'd like to do something like that. I’ll just skip over our major topics of conversation, save those gems for another time.

Later, we wandered aimlessly in search of dinner. Seriously. Aimlessly. We were just talking and trying not to get hit by motorbikes. We ended up at a place that we pass every day on our way to school, but usually they’re not serving any food, only chopping raw meat out on the tables. Not tonight. We walked up and immediately all eyes fell on US. I was suddenly concerned that I had forgotten to wear pants or something. We sat and started looking at the menu and I had that “feeling.” I look up and not only are all of the other patrons stopped eating (AND talking) to watch us, but the entire staff has come out, the cooking has come to a halt, everyone just standing, staring unashamedly.

We wanted to try to order in Vietnamese, but they scrambled to find someone who spoke English (poorly). I know they are really going out of their way to show us hospitality in doing this, but it drives me craaaazy. He interpreted all of the words we already knew: fish, chicken, rice, egg. Thank-you sir. We shared noodles with beef and within one bite we promised to come back to this delicious place. Most of the eyes wandered back to their own food, but the eyes of the woman w2ho had cooked our food, never wavered from us. She watched every bite.

Not quite full after our shared entre, we went for fruit juice. There is a woman there who really goes out of her way to act out each fruit. It’s really comical actually. One day I pointed to the word that eventually turned out to be honey, but she enacted a bee coming to bite her arm and how much it hurt. That one took a while to figure out. There is an old man there too, her father perhaps. He likes to practice his English numbers and greetings with us.

He’s a sweet man, though the conversation was a bit painful. Erica and I made eye contact, signaling the time to make an exit. I started to reach into my bag for money and when I looked up, the man had a HUGE grin on his face and was pulling up a chair.

He sat down and we went over fruits… their names in English and Vietnamese, very slowly and painfully. Then we spent another 20 minutes on one question that we’re still not sure about. Then Erica and I walked home and discussed today's blogability. And that brings us to now. Great day.

As many random things as I could think of

We have been here for 57 days.

I have a tape of cheesy American songs and yesterday I used "Grand Old Flag" with my new younger class. I took out a few words and used blanks and played the song a few times. I just wanted them to tell me the words in the blanks, but after two plays-- and I didn't ask them to-- the entire class was singing along (as best they could) loudly. It was a weird moment of "hey, wow, they're all singing..." and it got to the part about how every heart beats true, for the red, white, and blue, it started to feel wrong that they were singing that. I don't know, kind of weird. I was half-expecting some green clad men to interrupt class... So if nothing else, I'm brainwashing little kids over here with our music.--For the record, I am totally joking... I just need to make that very clear...
I always teach in skirts or a dress and Erica almost always teaches in pants. I don't have any pants that fit the dress code at our school. Sometimes I get comments like, "Don't you like pants?" or about how it would be better if I taught in pants (we are often told that certain things [ok everything] are "good for our health"). Which I don't understand because it's not like I'm doing cart-wheels in class. But tonight I had a small victory in the office as we walked in and one of the women looked at me and then turned to Erica and said, "Why don't you wear nice dresses like Carolyn?" Sweet.

Our landlady and two of her daughters just came to our apartment and told us to come with them. One speaks English pretty well. Another speaks moderately well. And one speaks almost no English. They're just like the family of bears (Golilocks reference). Anyway, we went with them to the apartment next door and they took us to an aprtment that is almost identical but on a higher floor and has a different couch, and said that if we like it, we can move in, and if we "don't like, then nevermind." They said whatever we liked, they would trade with our apartment and we could have. Then they brought us back here and said, "Ok you are thinking and you are calling me later, goodnight."

The picture below is not from tonight, but those are our apartments in the background.

When Dawn was here, she and Erica and I took a bus to District 1. We got there no problem, but leaving from this station, we didn't think that we needed to wave for the bus, we thought it would just stop. I still think that's true though I have no proof. It was one of the hottest days I've experienced here yet. I have salty sweat patterns all over my black pants from that day.

Just a note: at the end of the video, Erica says that she is dehydrated. But I misunderstood and thought she said that she was getting hydrated. So that's why I say "good!" at the end. I'm not actually delighted in the weakened state of her health.

A button fell off of my khakis one week ago today.

Per the recommendation of Steph (teaching in Bien Hoa), I read "Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight," by Alexandra Fuller. It was excellent. The story of her childhood in Africa, her descriptions are incredible and she writes the honest truth-- or so she says, and I believe her. And now I am halfway through "The Book Thief, " by Markus Zusak, passed to me by my roommate. This takes place in WWII Germany. Also excellent, but for different reasons. I'm never picking out books on my own again, only relying on reliable sources.

And I realize those have nothing to do with Vietnam.

Sometimes that's precisely the point.

curl

Just an update on my curl. It's still there. I am very excited about this, and a little disappointed that everyone doesn't notice and get as excited as me.

District 6 continued...

So many great and funny things on our street. There is a woman who carries around crutches under her arms and asks for money. She just carries them around, doesn't limp or anything. There is also a drunk who always has his pants on inside-out. We're actually pretty nervous around him, so we avoid him.

And of course there are several women on our street that we just love. I will have to get pictures of them later... There is DEFINITELY a communication barrier, but a smile is the universal language (i think that's the saying)!

One woman makes egg sandwiches that are the bomb. We can get them cheaper further down the street, but they don't have the consistant flavor like this woman's. She puts cucumber slices and cilantro with just the right amount of chili pepper and whatever sauce she adds to make it so amazing. And of course we know she also adds the secret ingredient: love.



Dawn, our regional field director, came to visit and observe our teaching, and try to sort out the mess Erica and I got ourselves into when we signed the contract that our school told us we needed to sign (that's another story). And after class, we all went for egg sandwiches. Sorry the video is sideways, I ALWAYS forget about that!

District 6

Here are some photos from down the street. We just love our district. Whenever we meet foreigners and they ask where we're from, they have no idea where district 6 is. I love this side of town. No foreigners, no tourists and people don't try to rip us off. We've even tried to overpay (on accident) a few times and the extra bills were handed back to us.

Lady frying bananas

The people are friendly, hard-working, and beautiful. They also know how to relax after a hard day's work; we see groups of people sitting outside and hanging out with each other, drinking iced coffee, playing checkers, watching each others' kids. We pass the same men on our way back from class every night and they like to sit on the roadside in little kiddie chairs eating seafood and drinking beer. Often they yell to us, in whatever state they are in, offering us a beer or a crab leg. We just laugh and keep walking.

It almost makes me sad when they rave about how beautiful we are. Women love our light skin and don't like when we go outside in short sleeves on sunny days because it makes our skin darker. The people here seem so beautiful in appearence, their quiet, humble demeanor, and the way they take care of each other. Erica and I can be coaxed to almost any local food stand just by the smile of the vendor who waves us over. They treat us like family and they don't even know us. How do you serve such a servant-hearted people?

some garbage

This is the water flowing under the bridge on our street. Aafter it rains it looks just like water, but it hasn't rained today and the water looks disgusting, like it has stained the banks black. There are pipes all over that appear to bring in crap from all over the neighborhood. Not good. I think that if we drank that water, we wouldn't get sick; we would die.

The power has gone out a lot lately. We aren't too bothered by it because we are comforted by the power bill receipt in our cabinet declaring that it is not our fault. None of our classrooms have windows (the classes are at night anyway) and the power going out during class --though short lived-- is a bit more comical.

We've had it pretty easy though compared to our other teachers in Vietnam. One team had a typhoon (though I am totally jealous) and their house was flooded. Another team member was asked to leave the country for various reasons. Another teacher was just informed about the death of her uncle back home. This didn't all just happen, but I wanted to make sure that my blog wasn't all hunky-dory (spell check is not helping me out with that one), making Vietnam look like a party all of the time.

Does Rus even read my blog??

I teach eight different classes, all different levels and a variety of ages. I really couldn't tell you which age and level is really my favorite. I teach a level 6 (though I have NOT figured out what the levels really mean) class of 16-24 year olds on Tuesday and Saturday nights. They are really smart and a lot of fun.



Before coming to Vietnam, we listened to stories from other teachers, and one thing I honed in on and got especially excited about was naming my students. Each student gets an "American" nickname, and some of the past teachers let the students choose their own, so they had students named Harry Potter, Dragon, Obama. But when we began teaching here, we found out that all of our students already had names. It dirves us crazy because most classes repeat the same list of names: John, Tom, Anna, Mary, Peter, Lisa... on and on. It's hard to remember seven Toms!! And Erica has a class with a Peter 1 and Peter 2.


There are a few breaks from the monotony though. I have a Remus, Yang, Bean, two Miley Cyrus's, Mushroom, Tito, and a Mr. Happy. Whenever I say their names with a straight face, I wish there was a video camera to capture how smoothly I just did that.


I have one student in this level six class who is very enthusiastic. He's 16 and a bit of a flirt. On my first day teaching his class, he came up to me during the break and said that he would like to change his name, and wanted to know my favorite name. I assurred him that I don't have a favorite name. I didn't want to encourage him, but I was secretly thrilled about the opportunity to name him. I started listing off names of some men that I know. He nodded after each one, wanting to hear them all before committing to one (though he kept insisting to hear my FAVORITE). When I mentioned the name Ralph, he actually laughed out loud and said, "No please not that one!" I don't know why. He did finally decide on one though.


Meet Russell:

Súp Cua

This lady pushes her cart around in our neighborhood in the early evenings. When I first saw her cart, I just glanced at it and thought it said, "cup o' soup," so I announced to Erica, "Hey! Cup O' Soup!" The cart actually says "Súp Cua," though ironically she does in fact sell cups of soup. Crap soup. I had some before class last night and it was FANTASTIC.

As I threw my cup away, one of our coworkers informed me that I shouldn't eat things off the street like that. I really don't know why people offer me advice after I've already done something.

Neighbors

(Completely unrelated photos)

We don't have many friends here who speak English. But we do have two neighbors who speak very well. We've visited with them a few times and recently they took us to another district to eat. They wanted to teach us more about Vietnam and the food here. Ironically, they took us to a restuarant (not in the pictures) that specializes in "street food" which is the only thing that we have eaten for the last six weeks.

We had our own private room and there was loud talking and laughing, and if I haven't mentioned it before, eating is NOT a quiet activity. Slurping, smacking, any kind of noise that you were told is rude as a child, is completely acceptable. We talked and ate and ate and talked for an hour and they brought out plate after plate of different foods (all of which we had had before, but we let them show us how to eat everything and pronounce their titles; it turns out that acting like a clueless American comes pretty naturally to us), and we drank delicious fruit juice. Then our friend turned to me and laughed and said that we hadn't even ordered yet; Those were just the appetizers. Oh my gosh. I turned to Erica and told her and we both made a silent look of panic.

They soon brought out something (in enormous bowls) that was translated as crab cake soup. It was AMAZING. It had noodles, and all sorts of things in it, but the broth was incredible. I was warned again not to eat everything because there was more to come. I told Erica and she told me between bites that she couldn't stop because it was too good. That bowl was taken away and another steamy bowl of soup was brought out. This was spicy and delicious also, though I couldn't pinpoint the flavors. I was told to squeeze lime in it. They explained that Vietnamese food is defined by being a little sweet and a little spicy and a little sour. That explains a lot.

That bowl was taken away and several of us remarked that we were full. Our pregnant neighbor, due in December, was not sympathetic and said that she was more full then all of us, and showed off her swollen tummy. She won.

Then they brought out ice tea and dessert, which was a glass of this milky drink with ice and floating jello in it. Erica and I both nursed ours as slowly as we could, hoping that the meal would be over before anyone noticed that we didn't like these jello things. No one seemed to notice, but the meal didn't end for quite some time yet. When we finally arrived home, Erica and I fell into a coma from over-eating.

Anyway, this story was unnecessary. I just wanted to remind you of our neighbors and how they've been so kind to us. She actually gave birth a few days ago. A boy. I haven't heard (ANY) good things about the health care system in this country and we are worried for our new friend and her premature baby. She's so sweet to us. I will update if we hear anything.

Happy Buy Myself Flowers Day to you all!

I have a couple of things to announce on this holiday. First, please look closely at this next photo. This is the left side of my face. Good, very observant. Now, look even closer (get out the magnifying glass maybe) and you'll see that I have a CURL in my hair. It just happened on it's own! The humidity maybe!

And this is just a random picture that I haven't posted yet. She's crossing the street. Cute lady.

Next here is our lunch from today. I don't know why I have a thing with taking pictures of food, but I just think they're beautiful. All of our meals are served with some kind of soup, and ice tea. There is also a bowl of something called 'fish sauce' that if they don't serve, we will ask for it. It's spicy and flavorful. And a plate of rice, and a plate of whatever fish we asked for. Today I had shrimp. I just feel bad for their dishwasher.

My second announcement is that we finally received our paychecks! We didn't realize that we had to take out two months rent this month to cover September and October, so it's not the celebration that we anticipated. And also, it was accompanied by our power being shut off again. It was turned back on later when we got it sorted out, but I am really starting to get annoyed at the process. A man comes to the door and rings the doorbell, then he shoves a slip under the door that says that your power is turned off, and before I can lean down and pick up the slip, the switch is flipped and the light goes off. You might be under the impression that things don't happen quickly in this country, and maybe that's true. But NOT for electricity.

Anyway, we are on a budget this month. I mean, literally I am writing this in the dark. It's not because of the amount of support that has come in, because friends, you have blessed me. It's just the timing of bills and it still being the beginning of everything. We're bringing tupperware with us everywhere so we can save food for later.

However, I wanted to keep 'Buy Myself Flowers Day' alive, so I decided to make the sacrifice. One rose was 4,000vnd (maybe 25 cents). But clearly the name of the day indicates more than one flower (it's not 'buy myself A flower day'), so I splurged for two.

And here is my roommate Erica.

story time

We just took this video at lunch today. I don't think I sound like myself. I mean, I try very hard to not speak with a Southern accent, and I don't want anyone to be offended, but I have almost eliminated the word "yall" from my vocabulary for the time being. I'm sure it will be easy to bring it back, but it confuses my students.

And I don't think I explained the second story very well. We ate the soup first and when they saw that we were finished, they rushed to bring us another bowl, as if we need to be able to have a bite of soup at any point during the meal. And that has happened twice before with me. I go for the broth first in soup (Erica must go for the noodles), and ladies will bring out a cupful of broth to add to my soup. Feed the hungry American!

Finishing Up September

Yesterday was the end of the mid-Autumn Festival. I barely knew that it was here. Now it's over.

Sometime last month, we went to a fair across from our school. It was really crowded and we felt like people stared at us more than usual. I thought that we should have just set up our own booth and charged money for all of the stares. Here we are with these pancake on a stick things, they smelled like heaven, but were almost completely tasteless. I don't know how that works.

At one point, a man came up to me and held out his child to me, saying something that sounded like "hold." I wondered what the odds were that this man knew English and only wanted to tell me to hold his child. I didn't know what to do, so I reached out my arms to the child. He didn't hand her over, so I just stood there with my arms halfway out. He kept sayign the word, until a woman walked up and took the child away from the man.

Later, I looked up the word kiss, and it is hôn in Vietnamese. He wanted me to kiss his child.

I think these candies were dates covered in sugar and something that made them incredibly sour. I ate a whole cupful and the next day I couldn't taste anything. Just thinking about the sour taste makes my mouth cringe and kind of water. You know what I'm talking about, like if you know you're about to eat something sour? I just asked Erica and she has no idea what I'm talking about, so maybe it's just me...


Happy Birthday Dad and Leith! Even though today it is October 5th here...

My baby class

Today is Saturday and on Saturday mornings, we teach little children. My first class is 8-10 year olds (Ranger is in that class) and my second class is a bit younger. One girl says that she is eight. Three of the boys are six, and several of the smaller kids are two, a few more girls are somewhere in between, and one girl can't answer the question, so we just assume that she's two or younger.

Now at training in California, they talked about "the three P's:" Presentation, Practice, Production. We discussed what each 'P' meant and certain activities that can go with each section. The first night I was given this class, I had no idea what I was getting into and I opened the first page, prepared to start planning a lesson based on these three ideas. Here is a picture of Unit One:


Yeah, just try planning a lesson on that.

I quickly learned that this class isn't exactly orthodox. I was lucky to keep their attention for ten minutes. That first class was ridiculous. Whoever has taught them in the past has let them color in the first half of class, and then after the break, maintains no control whatsoever. So after one hour of class and 15 minutes of eating candy and running around, these 2-8 year olds come back into my classroom for another hour.

The boys push other kids and scream and run into the walls. A few girls play their own games and ignore me completely. One boy starts to go through my bag every day, and another tampers with the CD player. Other girls fight over who gets to hold my hand. Several of them will put on their book bags and just walk out of the classroom and I can't tell them to stop because they don't understand English. I do have a teachers' assistant (who I wouldn't survive without), but it still takes both of us to pull them off each other, clean up messes, and sing at the top of our lungs amidst the chaos.

I have learned more and more each week, and I take pride in being able to keep their attention longer and loner. They love the Hokey Pokey, Ring around the Rosie, and London Bridges. The kids and I both leave the room feeling accomplished, tired, and sweating profusely.

Today was a festival and the younger kids could go if they wanted to. All of the kids in the baby class signed up, so I didn't have that class this morning. And I actually missed them! Maybe I just missed the challenge...or the work-out, but my morning wasn't the same.

Here are some of the kids in my class. Erica says her kids are cuter than mine, but she's so wrong, it's unbelievable.

trip to Bien Hoa

So this past weekend, we took a few buses over to Bien Hoa to visit our friends Steph and Brittany. I think the trip took a little over and hour and it wasn't bad. One lady threw up on the last bus and there was a bit of an altercation between the sick woman's friend and the ticket collector. We sat in the back of the bus and translated the conversation quietly as we thought it played out. The ticket guy apparently did not feel that it was his responsibility to clean up.


And it rained (of course).

We looked like a pack of skittles walking through the streets in our ponchos.







Their sink is very low. They have to lean over really far to wash dishes. It looks funny.





They borrowed bikes for us to ride around town there. They were pimp. I felt like i was in the movie 'Now and Then' riding down the street with the four of us with baskets on the front. The bikes sounded like they were about to collapse. I didn't have pedals and my chain came off once. Finally I reap the rewards of all that practice putting my chain back on all those times at home.





They have some sort of soccer stadium or park near their apartment. That spells another visit to Bien Hoa for me.
If you can't tell, that's me kicking the giant soccer ball out front.

They took us to the river for nườc mía (sugar cane juice) in a bag.

At the river, a little boy came and sat down next to me like we'd been friends for years, just made himself comfortable. He started talking to me, though I understood nothing. Then he just reached over and put his hand on my thigh. I brushed it off and he put it back. We think his goal was my nườc mía, but his method was to sweet talk it from me. He didn't get it from any of us and he got upset and stormed off.

We had some of the best barbeque chicken I've ever had. We celebrated a late birthday for Steph. Erica and I bought socks for her. And not just any socks, but flip-flop socks that everyone here wears. They have a section for your big toe, and a section for the rest of your toes. Like a mitten for your feet.