more Pearls

I still don't have a newsletter, but this is the next best thing...

Oanh and Carolyn Lesson

Oanh and I have our own unique way of studying together. It's probably not super effective, but it is enjoyable. She is saying that the eraser is inside her bag and outside of her bag. And I am saying, "Can you repeat that please?" Her enthusiasm makes me feel a lot better than I should. My Vietnamese is appalling.

This little piggy goes to market

I love the market. It's such an interesting place. And it's made all the more interesting by my fascination with the place, and everyone's fascination with me. Everyone stares at me as I navigate the puddles, piles of discarded greens, and fish flopping around on the ground (just the escapees). Men on motorbikes ride through, delivering various boxes, and heaving blocks of ice on baskets of fish. With all of the raw meat and spices, the intensity of garlic is surprising and overwhelming. It hits me like a wave every time, and i can see eyes flicking up to watch me.

There is a woman all the way in the back from whom I buy my fish. There are about 10 ladies in that corner, all sitting on the ground, rinsing fish, scaling and gutting them with scissors. They love to ask me questions. And even though I've told them all already, every time I come someone asks my age. Echoes of "hai mười bốn tuổi (age 24)," follow me even as I walk away.

I've never bought groceries before that were still kicking. It's kind of exciting. I still don't know what I'm doing. I still go to market at the wrong time and say the wrong words. And I'm still skeptical about high prices. I always pick out my own fruit because one woman picked out overripe fruit for me one time.

Here is my first salmon soup. The salmon was so fatty that it made great broth. I'm so glad to finally be cooking more.

I feel so successful carrying bags home. Everyone goes to the market. Every day. It makes sense because the power sometimes goes out, so nothing is in the fridge to do bad. And no one has a microwave. But darn if it's not a lot of work!

"The truth is I never left you..."

I'm going to try not to post as many videos so my blog won't be as slow and so I will actually be able to open some of my old posts. You might have to click on this to see it.

Ted

Ted really wanted me to pick him to answer the question.

Sorry it's sideways.

SOUNDS

We've talked before about the smells that I have come to associate with Vietnam. Today, we are discussing the SOUNDS.

When we are home, we leave our windows and doors wide open. It keeps it cooler, and there is no danger as we are on the 10th floor of an apartment in a gated complex with up to 10 security guards at a time. Granted, I've woken them up before, but overall I feel safer with them here. Plus they're just really nice.

As I am sitting in our apartment right now, the first sound I hear is banging metal, maybe straightening rebar, or hammering. A rooster is crowing. Some other type of equipment is being used, maybe a saw, The elevator dings to announce the arrival of someone on some floor

Usually, I can hear the dripping of water from someone watering plants (some people have a balcony that I covet). The most prominant sound is usually motorbikes. Either one puttering down the road with a sound that makes me think of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (bubbles? I don't know), or one revved up and speeding.

Outside our apartment, in the mornings, I can only determine that this is a car- horn testing facility. I'm not joking. There is no other explanation for the regularity and the cadence of the honking. The honking from the street is different. Here, I can look down and see someone sitting in a van, honking the horn. Repeatedly. Daily. If there is another explanation, please enlighten me.

Now, we mustn't overlook the honking on the street. but to be honest, I barely notice it anymore. When we are walking on the street, we are only alarmed by the huge trucks, whose horns are deafening, and also often play some sort of tune (a few notes up and down; Erica just described it as a "little diddy"), rather than the traditional, "beep," or "honk."

One of my favorite noises is a woman yelling. She's carrying a pole over her shoulder with baskets full of something that she's selling. She yells out what she's selling in such a sing-songy way, that it doesn't sound like a voice, but an instrument, like two keys on the piano. There is also a man who rides around on a bike with a loud speaker yelling in his robotic Vietnamese. He is apparently announcing the things that he wants to buy from people. And he repeats it, word for word, the same, over and over. It's not a recording! We checked.

And of course, there is another man who rides around on a cart. We dont't know what he wants, or where he is, but we can hear him from far away out of his speaker. It sounds like, "tank top!" "tank top!" over and over. We affectionately call him "tank top man."

There really are too many sounds to name. Sometimes there is music coming from the pagoda nearest our house, and sometimes our upstairs neighbors are doing home repairs..? Our elderly neighbors sometimes blast pop music and burn incense and leave their doors open. One of my favorites is being bale to hear someone singing karaoke. I'm starting to really like living in the city. It's the roosters crowing that get on my nerves..

Is my blog working? I've been having some trouble opening it.

Here are some eggs for sale:

GÀ is chicken and VỊT is duck. The ones on the left are the half-hatched boiled eggs I think. If not, they look the same anyway...

teenager classes

I have mostly teenager classes right now, and I LOVE them. Here is one of my classes leaving tonight. They aren't shy at all until I pull out a camera.

Karaoke

You might not be able to hear in the video or understand what I'm saying, but I said, "It's just been one of those days, you know? Everybody wants to rip us off." It's a really dumb video, but I thought it was funny.

And it WAS one of "those days". We had an all day workshop, an hour bus ride away, on some of the new textbooks. I thought it would be helpful, but it wasn't very. The speaker asked for some of our challenges in the classroom and I answered that I have shy students who will refuse to speak outloud or participate in games. He suggested that I keep a more positive atmosphere in my classroom so that the students feel safe, and soon they will feel comfortable speaking. And I thought since I generally encourage all kinds of pointing and ridiculing in my class, that this was helpful advice (rolling my eyes).

We had a couple of frustrating encounters with people there, and I'm learning more and more that while we are told that these workshops are required, they're more like a convo credit at Montreat-- just get your name on the sign-in sheet. And again, we're faced with the question on whether we should fit in with everyone else, or try to stand out.

From there, we walked to the doctor's office to get my referral since we were in the area. The people in the reception area didn't understand the word "referral," (probably because I was pronouncing it correctly) and there was a lot of giggling and not a lot of assisting going on. I'm sure they were laughing at each other, but some days it feels like they're laughing at me, and my wounded pride sees nothing funny.

Next, I tried to buy cards. I almost always buy a couple every time I come here. The cards are set up on the wall and the tables line the sidewalk. I don't know all of the women there, but the price is always the same. I picked out a couple, money in hand, and the woman announced a new price that was TWICE what I've ever paid. My jaw dropped, and I just walked away, not even turning to look as she followed me, lowering the price a tiny bit.

Now, this was just one day in history. Usually I don't mind being laughed at, or yelled at, and being blatantly swindled keeps me on my toes. I suppose it's good to have days like this; they make the good days that much better. So let's change the subject to a good day, shall we?

Saturdays are jam-packed for me now. Jam-packed with goodness. They include some of my favorite classes, and getting to hang out with some of our friends from the office. This past Saturday, after a very busy day, some of my highest level students invited Erica and I out for karaoke. I have never been to karaoke in America, so I have nothing to compare it with except movies. Here, you go into your little private room and they bring you drinks and snacks, or a meal if you want. We all just sit on a couch and someone is singing. And it's not a joke. Erica and I were the only ones laughing.Above, Sella, on the left, is a current student, and her sister Til is a former student. Those aren't their real names, FYI. Below, Jacky and Tom are current students . They are pals, even though they're eight years apart (just try to guess). They are always getting in trouble for talking. I'm thinking of changing my teaching technique to only using a microphone and songs instead of any other lessons.They had an incredible selection of songs. We sang LOTS of Michael Jackson, some Abba, and a lot of songs where I only know the chorus. I sang along to one Vietnamese song and I might have gotten every single sound and tone wrong, if that is possible. It was actually very fun. That is a pretend microphone in my hand, below.

Buy Myself Flowers Day

Buy myself Flowers day was postponed this month. One of our students bought us this bouquet of flowers. It took me two straight days of looking at them to learn that they were fake. I just thought they were dried. Well done, flower-makers

Then, one of my students presented me with this bouquet (which he made during class, but I forgave him). I couldn't buy flowers to surpass these either.

But finally I celebrated with flowers that would eventually die. It's not a result that I'm happy about, but I just get to learn that little life lesson over and over.

We aren't taking many pictures this month. I think I've taken seven. I wonder if that is on the culture shock scale. Someone should ask Dr. Ellington, or consult one of my books that I left at home.

Videos from November

Erica and I demolished two huge bowls of phở back in November. Here is how the sequence played out (be sure to watch in order):

And five minutes later, we were in the park across the street, and Erica needed a minute (ps. she says the benches aren't as comfortable as they look).

The Latest

I was trying to write my newsletter (which I honestly may never finish) the other day. I was sitting down at at a roadside stand having a cold drink. The old woman who gave me my drink came over to smile and pat my arms and roll her head back with laughter after comparing the color of my hands to her arms.

A man came over and handed me a piece of peanut brittle, nodding reasurringly, telling me it is delicious. He wasn't kidding. The old woman gave me her piece too, pointing to her teeth and shaking her head. A woman walked up carrying a pole over her shoulders with a basket of fruit on either end. A boy came over and bought two bags of cut fruit, and placed one in front of me, and a container of salt and chilies (in which to dip the fruit). I was told again, to eat.

I repeated my thanks, enthusiastically, trying to extinguish any other offers for food or drink. Leave me alone, you generous people! I need to write my newsletter! Another man came over to ask where I was from, and a glass of iced tea was placed in front of me. A woman came over to poorly translate all of the words that I already know. I think I will forever be more hesitant to translate for anyone, because sometimes I find it SO ANNOYING, and a hindrance to learning.

Soon, the old woman's daughter, who I smile and wave at every day, arrived on the back of a motorbike, carrying a bag of cut-up jack fruit. Again I am told to eat, and while I understand the word for 'eat', and what commonly is expected from food being shoved in my hands, everyone around still feels the need to motion for me to eat, exaggerated gestures. They also pointed out the thumb-sized seed, telling me not to eat it--as if I could if I wanted to.

A couple of people walk by. The people closest to me point at them and say something to me. Then they smile and wave to the people. I wrote it down and later translated it to mean something along the lines of, "Look! Chinese people."

So, all this being said, I have not written a newsletter, and I am having digestive issues, which may or may not be related to how often i just eat what I'm handed. My newsletter is hindered by the fact that my microsoft office trial has expired, and they must have learned to not allow any kind of downloads in this country, because I can't seem to download the real thing.

The digestive issues are not new, but are still a mystery. I was going to write a poem about how all I wanted for Christmas was a solid poop, but I didn't finish in time, and i definitely hope that we get this ordeal sorted out before next Christmas (therfore the title is no longer relevant).

If you do not wish to read about my bowels, turn back now. I am not in any pain, except from the occasional urgency. And the toilet paper usage per capita in our household has increased exponentially, which is annoying. I have had three occurrences of blood in my stool, the third of which happened about 10 minutes ago. I generally feel sick after this happens, but it's probably just because it scares me a little.

I've been to the doctor a twice about it, and the last time he just said, "hmmm..." enough to get on my nerves while looking at the results of my blood test and stool sample. Then he suggested I get another colonoscopy, which I DO NOT ever want to do. What a pain in the rear. And that's not even a pun because I was unconscious for all of it last time, except the part of realization that the camera was indeed going UP, instead of going DOWN. But that's another story; I don't really know how that little misunderstanding happened...

Life here has been unreasonably good, and this small annoyance is just a good reminder of how good things have indeed been. I hope I don't sound too frustrated by the encounters with people because I LOVE them. I'd rather get interrupted continally every day and talk with people than be known for my perpetually punctual newsletters. I feel like I make new friends all of the time and the people are just so wonderful and nosy and generous. I love them!

Sorry for the gross blog. And it is indeed gross. I kind of thought if something medically happened to me overseas, it would be cool, and a lot more interesting. But it's really not either, and I can't help feeling a little disappointed. This is just what's going on with me right now. However, it has been a really convenient annoyance and usually affects me only in the morning and afternoon, never during classs. I'll be sure to announce if anyone ever figures out what's wrong with me.

Story Time to end 0-9 (did you hear my rhyme?)

I was on the bus yesterday and I saw a guy with red lesions all over his skin. Actually, they looked more like chicken pox on his arms and face, but his exposed ankles appeared to be covered in painful sores. I made a mental note to wash my hands as soon as possible. And stay away from that guy.

I got off the bus and surveyed the street that I needed to cross. Whenever I see someone who looks more confident than me crossing, I stand as close to them as possible and cross with them. The red lesion man was crossing, so I stepped behind him against the traffic. He saw what I was doing and grinned broadly; he'd be happy to help me. He then reached over and firmly grabbed under my arm and led me carefully to the safety of the other side. He grinned happily again as I nodded my thanks, and I turned to walk down my street, wondering how I was going to cope with these red lesions that I would soon be getting...

I was on my way to the tailor actually. I've been twice, and I haven't been in a long time because the tailor's son (who speaks English)began calling me an average of seven times a day for a while. However, the tailor knew and understood that I lived here, and she's good at what she does, and she doesn't charge me the foreigner's price. That is a hard relationship to forge, so I thought I would overlook the semi-stalking, and go anyway. He made no mention of all of the calls except to say that he wanted to tell me Merry Christmas, but I didn't answer.

They both told me that I had gotten very skinny. I said that I think maybe I'm sick. So they told me that they would not make a dress for me now because when I get better, I will get fat again, and then the dress won't fit. Unfruitful trip to the tailor (unless you count the tailor's son asking me out for dinner).

New Years Eve. I had no idea what to do, and I wanted to get to bed before midnight, so around 9:30 I texted one of our neighbors. She came over and we went to get her sister. Erica and I donned our festive "Christmas" hats, I made two more in a jiffy, and the four of us headed to the roof with sparklers and apple juice. Below: Erica, Phuong, me, Trinh

I was slightly disappointed in myself for not considering the wind factor on the roof and even though I had brought candles, the sparklers took FOREVER to light. But they were cool anyway. We toasted to the last year and took some pictures.

Phuong got a text that her baby was crying, so she had to leave. I planted myself in front of the candles to block the wind and try to get another sparkler started. Erica was hunched over another candle holding a sparkler, and Trinh walked over and held some cardboard in front of the flame. I all of a sudden got the feeling that we were sitting around the campfire and I liked it. I thought we would just hang out there for hours playing with fire, drinking apple juice, and talking about this past year; and I got excited.

Trinh got quiet, as if searching for some deep words to share (her English is not bad at all, but she is hesitant). She looked like she wanted to say something, so I glanced up at her expectantly. Finally she said, "Can I go home now?"

Ouch.

And since we're still talking about me being ridiculous, a security guard came up and caught us playing with fire on the roof. I really don't know if we were doing anything wrong, and I wonder if we could ever get in trouble here (the security guards love us). He just sat down and started talking. It seemed to me like he was telling me that the sparkler I had in the flame was done. I just shook my head and smiled and he laughed and kept saying "already! already!" Finally it sparked for about two whole seconds I showed it to him, gloating. He said something else and pointed to the sky. I thought he was saying that there were fireworks. I asked, what time? He said 1:00 and pointed to the roof.

So at 1:00, Erica and I confidently walked back up to the 19th floor and then the roof. We sat there for twenty minutes and nothing happened. And it dawned on me. WHAT WAS I THINKING?! Why would I think that I could understand that much from someone who doesn't speak a word of English??

And that was the start to our 2010.

I just got home a few minutes ago from picking up some pictures that I ordered. I also bought a few things at the store down town. I needed a seive because Erica got me some loose jasmine tea for Christmas. I also got a cheap tin teapot and some ovaltine (that's what it said on the box, but I'm afraid it's not what I think it is). I got off the bus, navigated across the street and waved at the familiar faces. One woman smiled, waved, pointed to my bag, and then motioned for me to sit next to her. She proceeded to go through my bag, examine it's contents and compare with the receipt to see how much everything cost.

She's a sweet lady and we don't really understand each other very well, but this is a common practice. People are often curious how much I pay for things. Having everyone ask me makes me very curious about what everyone else pays for stuff --by the way-- so get ready for when I come home; I'm going to ask.