Saturday, February 5, 2011
Pictures of Hanoi
Another post about smell...
“The first thing I noticed in Bombay, on the first day, was the smell of the different air. I could smell it before I saw or heard anything of India, even as I walked along the umbilical corridor that connected the plane to the airport. I was excited and delighted by it, in that first Bombay minute…but I didn’t, and couldn’t, recognize it. I know now that it’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour, stifled smell of gree, which is the opposite of love. It’s the smell of gods, demons, empires and civilizations in resurrection and decay. It’s the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the Island City, and the blood-metal smell of machines. It smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers. Karla once called it the worst good smell in the world, and she was right, of course, in that way she had of being right about things. But whenever I return to Bombay, now, it’s my first sense of the city – that smell, above all things – that welcomes me and tells me I’ve come home.”
I love the smell of Phở in the morning!
I wrote this awhile back and just putting it up now, so it's about HaiPhong even though, it could easily be applied to HaNoi. This is me putting a different (much happier) twist on a famous movie quote (+10 points to those who know it! - I'm pretty sure my dad at least does). You can pretty much tell what time of day it is by the smells hanging in the air. I wake up to the smell of incense burning in the house next door, the days offering for good luck. The morning smells crisp and clean with hints of basil, stewed chicken and burning charcoal. When you walk outside, you see women and children at small plastic tables on the sidewalks, their chopsticks clanging against lacquer bowls. Most likely, they are eating Phở before heading of to school or starting housework for the day. Unless you get up before 6 am, you are unlikely to see men or young women at the breakfast table as the work day begins at 7 am for most people.
In the afternoon, you can practically smell the heat rising from the pavement, which also leads to a powerful smell from any surrounding plant life, which is lovely and sweet. However, if you walk through a local market, the pungent smell of fish, meat, even blood, practically smacks you in the face. You can hear the sound of knives slicing through the air and a hard chop on the cutting board.
As night falls, you can smell the air cooling down but my favorite smell at this time is spices. From Everywhere. Most people cook outdoors on small make-shift stoves and the smell is remarkable. When you walk past the street stalls, you can see, hear and smell men sitting down to a glass of Bia Hoi, a truly terrible but popular draft beer. People will sit at these stalls for hours, puffing away on cigarettes, drinking beer and chatting with friends until 10 or 11 at night. Children run around everywhere, completely unsupervised, and their laughter, plus their tiny pattering feet is a charming sound. Things quiet down and the spices leave the air at around 11 o'clock as people clean up and go to bed. From then on, the only smell is the heat, or the cold (depending on the season), clean and comforting, until 5 am the next day when it all starts again.
In the afternoon, you can practically smell the heat rising from the pavement, which also leads to a powerful smell from any surrounding plant life, which is lovely and sweet. However, if you walk through a local market, the pungent smell of fish, meat, even blood, practically smacks you in the face. You can hear the sound of knives slicing through the air and a hard chop on the cutting board.
As night falls, you can smell the air cooling down but my favorite smell at this time is spices. From Everywhere. Most people cook outdoors on small make-shift stoves and the smell is remarkable. When you walk past the street stalls, you can see, hear and smell men sitting down to a glass of Bia Hoi, a truly terrible but popular draft beer. People will sit at these stalls for hours, puffing away on cigarettes, drinking beer and chatting with friends until 10 or 11 at night. Children run around everywhere, completely unsupervised, and their laughter, plus their tiny pattering feet is a charming sound. Things quiet down and the spices leave the air at around 11 o'clock as people clean up and go to bed. From then on, the only smell is the heat, or the cold (depending on the season), clean and comforting, until 5 am the next day when it all starts again.
Monday, January 24, 2011
A reflection
"[John McCain] also offered an acidic commentary on how the Vietnamese portrayed life inside the prison. Alongside the pictures of Mr. McCain and his fellow prisoners, a plaque declared: "Though having committed untold crimes on our people, the American pilots suffered no revenge once they were captured and detained. Instead, they were treated with adequate food, clothing and shelter."
Shaking his head, Mr. McCain muttered, 'That's entertainment.'"
So having come out of the Hanoi Hilton with some questions about POW life there, I found some really interesting articles online reporting on the US side of the story. Where Poland and Germany have founded great museums reflecting the truth about the horrors that their own countries inflicted upon innocents, the same does not appear true for Vietnam. This once again reminded me that I am living in a communist country where speaking negatively about the government or the country results in the death penalty (something I discussed at length with one of my higher level classes in HaiPhong). My boyfriend reminded me of the photos the Nazis took of the camps for the Red Cross and it appears as though similar things happened during the American war here. Nonetheless, it does appear as though certain soldiers were given medical treatment that ultimately saved their lives (McCain himself benefited from this) and that torture dwindled over the years.
If you're interested in reading some American accounts (I really prefer to avoid Wikipedia when I'm looking for most information, although most of the info you find online is about McCain), check out these articles:
http://blogs.thestate.com/bradwarthensblog/2008/01/what-it-ws-real.html
http://www.mishalov.com/Vietnam_hanoi_hilton.html
http://www.spike.com/blog/survival-stories-1/86067
And so, as Don said, it is always important to remember from whom your information is coming.
All that being said, it is still wonderful to be able to come to this country today with no fear of being treated any differently than other foreigners when 40 years ago, it would have been a death sentence.
Shaking his head, Mr. McCain muttered, 'That's entertainment.'"
So having come out of the Hanoi Hilton with some questions about POW life there, I found some really interesting articles online reporting on the US side of the story. Where Poland and Germany have founded great museums reflecting the truth about the horrors that their own countries inflicted upon innocents, the same does not appear true for Vietnam. This once again reminded me that I am living in a communist country where speaking negatively about the government or the country results in the death penalty (something I discussed at length with one of my higher level classes in HaiPhong). My boyfriend reminded me of the photos the Nazis took of the camps for the Red Cross and it appears as though similar things happened during the American war here. Nonetheless, it does appear as though certain soldiers were given medical treatment that ultimately saved their lives (McCain himself benefited from this) and that torture dwindled over the years.
If you're interested in reading some American accounts (I really prefer to avoid Wikipedia when I'm looking for most information, although most of the info you find online is about McCain), check out these articles:
http://blogs.thestate.com/bradwarthensblog/2008/01/what-it-ws-real.html
http://www.mishalov.com/Vietnam_hanoi_hilton.html
http://www.spike.com/blog/survival-stories-1/86067
And so, as Don said, it is always important to remember from whom your information is coming.
All that being said, it is still wonderful to be able to come to this country today with no fear of being treated any differently than other foreigners when 40 years ago, it would have been a death sentence.
5 things I don't understand in Vietnam
1. Rubbernecking is an Xtreme sport:
Now, I could introduce a whole bunch of psychological terminology right now - bystander effect, diffusion of responsibility (....is it apparent that I'm studying for the GREs?) BUT the Vietnamese take Rubbernecking to whole other level...they will literally STARE at people who've fallen off their bikes (usually me...) but do nothing to help...no one....does anything....but stare and make horrible traffic.
2. Helmet-less babies on motorbikes and, for that matter, pregnant women on motorbikes:
Is it just me or was no one in Vietnam taught that babies have INCREDIBLY soft skulls...Children don't wear helmets until they hit middle school age and pregnant women zoom around on motorbikes...even if you see a young kid in a car, he or she is sitting on mom's lap in the DEATH (ie passengers) seat...WHAT?!
3. Stores that sell only ONE thing:
Okay okay, I know what you're thinking - sure home depot sells all home improvement supplies and Staples sells everything for the office...no, thats NOT what I mean. I mean one store sells nuts and bolts, the next store sells book cases, the store after that sells helmets, etc etc....but but but...what about one stop shopping?!
4. Words that look exactly the same and have completely different meanings:
Phố means street
Phở means delicious noodle soup
Gà means chicken
Cá means fish (but C in Vietnamese is pronounced like a hard G)
.....so what if you have a horrible fish allergy and try to order chicken but end up with fish?! enough said...
5. Adults wearing Pajama's outside...at 3 in the afternoon:
So I'm 22 and I'm certainly guilty of wearing my pj pants out to the store on a lazy afternoon but the Vietnamese do not do things half way....they wear FULL pajama outfits outside. Flannel button-down shirts with matching flannel pants is apparently not a faux-pas in Vietnam.
Now, I could introduce a whole bunch of psychological terminology right now - bystander effect, diffusion of responsibility (....is it apparent that I'm studying for the GREs?) BUT the Vietnamese take Rubbernecking to whole other level...they will literally STARE at people who've fallen off their bikes (usually me...) but do nothing to help...no one....does anything....but stare and make horrible traffic.
2. Helmet-less babies on motorbikes and, for that matter, pregnant women on motorbikes:
Is it just me or was no one in Vietnam taught that babies have INCREDIBLY soft skulls...Children don't wear helmets until they hit middle school age and pregnant women zoom around on motorbikes...even if you see a young kid in a car, he or she is sitting on mom's lap in the DEATH (ie passengers) seat...WHAT?!
3. Stores that sell only ONE thing:
Okay okay, I know what you're thinking - sure home depot sells all home improvement supplies and Staples sells everything for the office...no, thats NOT what I mean. I mean one store sells nuts and bolts, the next store sells book cases, the store after that sells helmets, etc etc....but but but...what about one stop shopping?!
4. Words that look exactly the same and have completely different meanings:
Phố means street
Phở means delicious noodle soup
Gà means chicken
Cá means fish (but C in Vietnamese is pronounced like a hard G)
.....so what if you have a horrible fish allergy and try to order chicken but end up with fish?! enough said...
5. Adults wearing Pajama's outside...at 3 in the afternoon:
So I'm 22 and I'm certainly guilty of wearing my pj pants out to the store on a lazy afternoon but the Vietnamese do not do things half way....they wear FULL pajama outfits outside. Flannel button-down shirts with matching flannel pants is apparently not a faux-pas in Vietnam.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Pictures! Ho Loa Prison
Friday, January 14, 2011
Ahoy HaNoi!
Having hated the administration and "organization" (or rather, lack there of) at my school in HaiPhong, I made a decision upon my Christmas return to North America: I'm going to move to HaNoi. While the prospect was daunting at first, it's been a remarkably easy process! I was hired at my very first interview and the school began looking for a room in HaNoi at once. They found me a pretty large room in a house owned by a Vietnamese family with 4 rooms they rent to students. I have my own bathroom, fridge and tv and the internet is free (although it has been less than reliable so I am thinking I might look into getting internet of my own).
During my downtime when I returned to Vietnam, I visited HaNoi's famous Hoa Lo prison, "affectionately" nicknamed the Hanoi Hilton by the US pilots (including John McCain) imprisoned there during the Vietnamese War. It was fascinating. Although I went in thinking mostly about the American POWs, I came out thinking that they WERE practically living in a 5 star hotel compared to what the Vietnamese political prisoners experienced under the French. Of course, the humane treatment of the POWs by the Vietnamese government could have been exaggerated at the museum but pictures don't lie. While the Americans had billiards, freedom of religion and thought and access to doctors and press, the men and women under the French regime had torture by electrical wires, rotten food, the constant threat of the guillotine and were shackled to one place for hours on end. Obviously, most of the museum pays tribute to these prisoners, leaving only two rooms to detail the lives of American POWs. Part of me wonders where the Vietnamese found the humanity to treat their prisoners so well when their own people had been so cruelly treated by the French only 30 years before (not to mention what the US was doing to their people at the same time).
Within the prison, there were pictures of POWs and Vets returning to the prison to see the museum. I found myself trying to imagine the POWs thoughts when they saw how the Vietnamese were treated by the French in the very same place they had been relatively "safe" during the war. Then, of course, the Vets - trying to imagine just coming back to this country in present day is mind blowing. The country is booming; the jungles that were the soldiers' daily horror houses are now flushed out villages and towns, and the communist people of Vietnam, whom "threatened" the American way of life and destroyed many families' and friends' lives, now greet Americans with a smile and a slew of curious questions ABOUT the American way of life. All of this in itself must be jarring, without even considering the number of actual war reminders that flood the streets.
I find the Vietnamese a remarkably resilient people. I rarely come across someone who is horrified to discover that I'm American. The American war, as they, naturally, call it, often seems a distant memory in today's Viet culture.
During my downtime when I returned to Vietnam, I visited HaNoi's famous Hoa Lo prison, "affectionately" nicknamed the Hanoi Hilton by the US pilots (including John McCain) imprisoned there during the Vietnamese War. It was fascinating. Although I went in thinking mostly about the American POWs, I came out thinking that they WERE practically living in a 5 star hotel compared to what the Vietnamese political prisoners experienced under the French. Of course, the humane treatment of the POWs by the Vietnamese government could have been exaggerated at the museum but pictures don't lie. While the Americans had billiards, freedom of religion and thought and access to doctors and press, the men and women under the French regime had torture by electrical wires, rotten food, the constant threat of the guillotine and were shackled to one place for hours on end. Obviously, most of the museum pays tribute to these prisoners, leaving only two rooms to detail the lives of American POWs. Part of me wonders where the Vietnamese found the humanity to treat their prisoners so well when their own people had been so cruelly treated by the French only 30 years before (not to mention what the US was doing to their people at the same time).
Within the prison, there were pictures of POWs and Vets returning to the prison to see the museum. I found myself trying to imagine the POWs thoughts when they saw how the Vietnamese were treated by the French in the very same place they had been relatively "safe" during the war. Then, of course, the Vets - trying to imagine just coming back to this country in present day is mind blowing. The country is booming; the jungles that were the soldiers' daily horror houses are now flushed out villages and towns, and the communist people of Vietnam, whom "threatened" the American way of life and destroyed many families' and friends' lives, now greet Americans with a smile and a slew of curious questions ABOUT the American way of life. All of this in itself must be jarring, without even considering the number of actual war reminders that flood the streets.
I find the Vietnamese a remarkably resilient people. I rarely come across someone who is horrified to discover that I'm American. The American war, as they, naturally, call it, often seems a distant memory in today's Viet culture.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
National Vietnamese Teacher's Day
Note to self (Vietnamese Style)
Never:
- Buy chicken at a local street market unless I want to behead it myself
- try to drive in Hanoi unless I have a death wish
- go to the supermarket on the first day of the lunar month unless I want to be trampled by Vietnamese families of 10
- assume that “sister” or “brother” or “uncle” or “aunt” means biological relation because it rarely ever does
- work for a full straight month with only one day off unless I want to come down with the plague. THE PLAGUE!!!
- try to pass one of the INSANE men driving a moto unless I feel like resembling a squashed pomegranate
- Buy chicken at a local street market unless I want to behead it myself
- try to drive in Hanoi unless I have a death wish
- go to the supermarket on the first day of the lunar month unless I want to be trampled by Vietnamese families of 10
- assume that “sister” or “brother” or “uncle” or “aunt” means biological relation because it rarely ever does
- work for a full straight month with only one day off unless I want to come down with the plague. THE PLAGUE!!!
- try to pass one of the INSANE men driving a moto unless I feel like resembling a squashed pomegranate
Thursday, November 4, 2010
To tide you over until my next update
here are some of my kids...
Some of my younger kids playing computer games between class periods.
My most advanced teen class (and one of the most enjoyable) working on their Halloween decorations
Probably my favorite kids class. 8-10 year olds and really bright. They absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE word searches and that's what they're doing here =)
Friday, October 22, 2010
Culture Shock Part Deux - October 22nd
Today is...interesting. I wandered into the hotel-heavy part of Haiphong and found a number of restaurants where the servers speak English, which is, unfortunately, exactly what I need right now. I'm finally hitting that second wave of culture shock that I was warned about in Ghana but never quite reached while I was there. The first wave is simple amazement. Everything is new and exciting. The second wave consists of simply being overwhelmed...by...everything...The novelty wears off and suddenly you find that you're half way around the world, alone, and in a place where you can barely communicate with people. Locals stare as you walk by because of the color of your skin and uniqueness of your face and when you do something wrong, they have no way of telling you what it was or why. I've had quite a few Vietnamese women shout at me as though, the louder they speak, the more I will understand. I'm not deaf, I'm American! These women never mean any harm; in fact, I'd take Vietnamese women over most Ghanaian women any day. Vietnamese women, especially mothers, are always looking out for you, offering you rides home and making sure you don't get cheated. Many Ghanaian women, especially those in their 20's, somehow see you as a threat to their way of life.
That being said, I've had a rough few days and it's taken all my strength not to go out and buy a puppy just to have something to come home to (and I've not yet completely ruled it out...).
On a better note, my Vietnamese is slightly improving, which is making things better. At least that's true when I can remember the phrases. I've "learned" How are you? How much is it? 2, 3, I/me...but my tone still allows for a good amount of confusion. The other day, instead of calling a female student by her name (An'h), I called her "brother" (anh)..Do you see very little difference...? Me too...
That being said, I've had a rough few days and it's taken all my strength not to go out and buy a puppy just to have something to come home to (and I've not yet completely ruled it out...).
On a better note, my Vietnamese is slightly improving, which is making things better. At least that's true when I can remember the phrases. I've "learned" How are you? How much is it? 2, 3, I/me...but my tone still allows for a good amount of confusion. The other day, instead of calling a female student by her name (An'h), I called her "brother" (anh)..Do you see very little difference...? Me too...
Food, food and more food - October 10th
Having been here for a month, I think it's high time that I write about food, seeing as I've written very little as it is.
The food I eat:
Pho (pronounced like Fuh) is a noodle soup for breakfast. Its absolutely delicious, but honestly, I see it more as a lunch food than breakfast. The noodles are thin but wide, made of rice and delicious. The soup is either chicken (Ga) or beef (Bo - pronounced bo-ah) based. It has lots of vegetables and spices and I can see why it'd be the perfect meal to give you energy for the day.
However...for breakfast, I prefer...
Banh My Tru'ng: basic eggs and baguette - its essentially an omelette in a baguette with chilli sauce. Nice and spicy, and a good way to start the day. Of course, most vietnamese, if they are eating eggs for breakfast, prefer duck fetuses....If I had been aware what exactly this was the first time I tried it, I probably would have refused. Veal? alright. Unfertilized eggs? definitely....but a FETUS...never again.
Bun - this is kind of like Pho but the noodles are thinner, much like vermicelli but made of rice (my cousin, Christian, would be ace in this country). The bowls are huge and there are often other smaller bowls surrounding them with things to add to the soup as you choose. Sometimes its spiced, grilled, meal worms. Sometimes its just chicken, beef, or shrimp. Often, there's a bowl full of basil and another bowl full of various cooked vegetables.
Generally, meals include soup of some form, cooked or grilled vegetables, some form of meat, or multiple forms of meat and rice.
There are also some treats that people have as snacks:
Pomello - a fruit that tastes much like a less bitter grapefruit. They usually eat slices of this dipped in salt.
Khô Bò: this is much like beef jerky but spiced with ginger. It's SO good
Ô Mai: dried fruits steeped in salt. It's usually apricot and its INCREDIBLY salty but very popular here.
More importantly though, I've now truly learned that it is so insanely magical that the Western world decrees Saturdays and Sundays as days off. Having been here for one full month, I finally got my first day fully off on Thursday and I have to say that Wednesday night, knowing that I did not have to go to work the next day, that I was only my own schedule for a full 24 hours, was bliss. I finally understand why my Dad just wants to watch TV when he gets home every night; I, admittedly, do the same...
The food I eat:
Pho (pronounced like Fuh) is a noodle soup for breakfast. Its absolutely delicious, but honestly, I see it more as a lunch food than breakfast. The noodles are thin but wide, made of rice and delicious. The soup is either chicken (Ga) or beef (Bo - pronounced bo-ah) based. It has lots of vegetables and spices and I can see why it'd be the perfect meal to give you energy for the day.
However...for breakfast, I prefer...
Banh My Tru'ng: basic eggs and baguette - its essentially an omelette in a baguette with chilli sauce. Nice and spicy, and a good way to start the day. Of course, most vietnamese, if they are eating eggs for breakfast, prefer duck fetuses....If I had been aware what exactly this was the first time I tried it, I probably would have refused. Veal? alright. Unfertilized eggs? definitely....but a FETUS...never again.
Bun - this is kind of like Pho but the noodles are thinner, much like vermicelli but made of rice (my cousin, Christian, would be ace in this country). The bowls are huge and there are often other smaller bowls surrounding them with things to add to the soup as you choose. Sometimes its spiced, grilled, meal worms. Sometimes its just chicken, beef, or shrimp. Often, there's a bowl full of basil and another bowl full of various cooked vegetables.
Generally, meals include soup of some form, cooked or grilled vegetables, some form of meat, or multiple forms of meat and rice.
There are also some treats that people have as snacks:
Pomello - a fruit that tastes much like a less bitter grapefruit. They usually eat slices of this dipped in salt.
Khô Bò: this is much like beef jerky but spiced with ginger. It's SO good
Ô Mai: dried fruits steeped in salt. It's usually apricot and its INCREDIBLY salty but very popular here.
More importantly though, I've now truly learned that it is so insanely magical that the Western world decrees Saturdays and Sundays as days off. Having been here for one full month, I finally got my first day fully off on Thursday and I have to say that Wednesday night, knowing that I did not have to go to work the next day, that I was only my own schedule for a full 24 hours, was bliss. I finally understand why my Dad just wants to watch TV when he gets home every night; I, admittedly, do the same...
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
AIE's Got Talent and my favorite class
Haiphong
Because I haven't updated in forever...
Here are some photos!
This is the little courtyard I go towards on the way to my apartment. Usually, under that La Vie umbrella, there is a stand selling soda, candy, etc but I took this at lunch time.
This is the alleyway to my apartment. Past the little plant on the left, that door in the green house is mine!!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Haiphong, Monday, September 21
Wow, I haven't even been here a week and already I've taught 5 classes. So far, I have two favorites. One: What we call the "pre-starters" (5-6 year olds). They are adorable and so much fun. The other is suprising because at first I was terrified to teach it. The school was recently contacted to teach a very special class: Navy Officers who are about to go abroad. It's 7 hours a day for one week. This class is VERY important to the school because if it goes well, the Navy will continue to send students. So NATURALLY, have your least experienced teacher teach it....? I am teaching the first FULL day then the mornings for the rest of the week (4 hours). Thus far, however, it's been really fun. Since I know quite a bit about Germany and its culture, I've been able to teach that as well as English and I love it. The men are eager to learn and very respectful.
As for my adjustment here, it's been very smooth, except for the fact that I constantly feel like an Amazon woman. The mornings are boiling hot and by the time I reach the school, I feel as though I've swum there instead. I had my first two horrifying Vietnamese specialties: mealworms fried in spicy peanut sauce and a hard boiled fertilized egg. One of these horrified me far more than the other. Can you guess? If you said fertilized egg, then you are correct sir! But Tan said it was a Vietnamese delicacy and offered me a bite. First of all, it tasted horrible. But you could also see the veins and feel the wing feathers in your mouth. But hey, I tried it. Who's to say I'm not adventurous? As for the mealworms, they were actually quite tasty!
Although can't understand a thing people are saying to me, I've surmised one thing about eating in this culture. Women can't stand to see you doing it alone! It makes them very sad. So this has led to some very awkward situation in which a gesture has led me to eating lunch with the owner of the restaurants whole family. I mutely sit, fumbling with my chopsticks until one of them fetches me a spoon with a pitying smile (I am, however, determined to learn!!!!) They jabber on in Vietnamese while I smile and nod but they always seem genuinely happy to have a foreigner at their table.
My apartment is slowly morphing into a home but I honestly spend little time there. I'm getting into the swing of being a teacher, getting more creative with my lesson plans. But I honestly can't wait until the third foreign teacher gets here and I have more time. I've found out about a fascinating woman through the school that I really want to volunteer for when I've learned some Vietnamese. She was a soldier in the Vietnam War and has since brought 28 children into her home, all who were affected by dioxin poisoning. I'd love to go out there and give the kids some lessons or do crafts with them or just play a little football. They live in horrible conditions and many were born deformed because of their parent's dioxin poisoning. I would love to brighten their world in any way possible. Of course, I would also love to learn of the woman's experience in the war if my Vietnamese was better and she was willing (Now I wish I'd brought a tape recorder...)
Time for lesson planning!
As for my adjustment here, it's been very smooth, except for the fact that I constantly feel like an Amazon woman. The mornings are boiling hot and by the time I reach the school, I feel as though I've swum there instead. I had my first two horrifying Vietnamese specialties: mealworms fried in spicy peanut sauce and a hard boiled fertilized egg. One of these horrified me far more than the other. Can you guess? If you said fertilized egg, then you are correct sir! But Tan said it was a Vietnamese delicacy and offered me a bite. First of all, it tasted horrible. But you could also see the veins and feel the wing feathers in your mouth. But hey, I tried it. Who's to say I'm not adventurous? As for the mealworms, they were actually quite tasty!
Although can't understand a thing people are saying to me, I've surmised one thing about eating in this culture. Women can't stand to see you doing it alone! It makes them very sad. So this has led to some very awkward situation in which a gesture has led me to eating lunch with the owner of the restaurants whole family. I mutely sit, fumbling with my chopsticks until one of them fetches me a spoon with a pitying smile (I am, however, determined to learn!!!!) They jabber on in Vietnamese while I smile and nod but they always seem genuinely happy to have a foreigner at their table.
My apartment is slowly morphing into a home but I honestly spend little time there. I'm getting into the swing of being a teacher, getting more creative with my lesson plans. But I honestly can't wait until the third foreign teacher gets here and I have more time. I've found out about a fascinating woman through the school that I really want to volunteer for when I've learned some Vietnamese. She was a soldier in the Vietnam War and has since brought 28 children into her home, all who were affected by dioxin poisoning. I'd love to go out there and give the kids some lessons or do crafts with them or just play a little football. They live in horrible conditions and many were born deformed because of their parent's dioxin poisoning. I would love to brighten their world in any way possible. Of course, I would also love to learn of the woman's experience in the war if my Vietnamese was better and she was willing (Now I wish I'd brought a tape recorder...)
Time for lesson planning!
Friday, September 17, 2010
My first days at home
Haiphong, 16:49 local time
After about 30 hours of travel time, I finally arrive in my new home. My new boss and a colleague pick me up at the airport, take me to my hotel and then take me to dinner. To my horror, they take me to a Texan BBQ place. They explain that they understand some teachers go through culture shock and they wanted to ease me in with familiar tastes, which is sweet. My boss, Ms. Linh (pronounced Ling), is a very sweet mother of a five year old boy and seems like she will be great to work for. After a long sleep (or better yet, long coma), I'm taken to see my apartment in the morning before I go to school for the first time. Its a sparse tower of a house wth a small kitchen and a small living room with internet on the first floor, a bedroom on the second floor (WITH AC!!!) and an empty room I can turn into whatever I want (most likely storage for my luggage) on the third floor. If I'm adventuresome, I can climb a rickety ladder to a balcony from the third floor. Guess how much this place costs me per month? A princely sum of $155!! The woman who took me to see the house is both the granddaughter of my landlord and a fellow teacher at the school. We have quickly become friends with her helping me shop and get my way around (thank God for her because outside of the school, no one speaks English). She has taught me a few Vietnamese phrases, of which I have only retained "thank you" (pronounced roughly gahm-ahn) and hello (pronounced zin-chow). Luckily, my Vietnamese lessons will start in 2 weeks when the other foreign teacher joins our school.
On hearing Vietnamese for the first time:
Because Vietnamese is written in Roman letters (Thanks colonialism?), I had somehow fooled myself into thinking it wouldn't be as difficult as other Asian languages. PSYCH!!!! For those who don't know, Vietnamese has 6 tones. Even beyond the tones, the pronunciation is unfathomable to me. Thank goodness for free Vietnamese lessons as provided by my contract. Learning it alone seems a task designed for Sisyphus.
I can't imagine having come here without my experience in Ghana. Though things are still very foreign to me, there are still some things that seem familiar. Street vendors, small family owned shops, sparse living conditions, slow internet and standing out are not new things to me. Speaking of standing out, beyond my pink skin (which quite a few have already commented on), I am no less than a giant here. Everyone, even the men, stand a few inches shorter than me. Eyes follow me walking down the street as there are truly not many ex-pats here. In fact, I've only seen one other and he works at my school.
As for school, I teach my first course today. I have two adult classes, two classes of children and one teen class. Until the other teacher comes, I'll be picking up her classes and working 40 hours a week! Welcome to the world of the employed, I suppose? Luckily, anything over 20 hours is overtime so that will help me save up for my moto really quickly. Tan, the granddaughter and fellow teacher, is going to teach me how to ride as I have scarcely seen ANY public transport and almost everyone, from 12 year olds to 60 year olds, have their own moto. As I live a 20 minute walk from the school, it will be great to drive there when I have early or late classes.
Pictures and commentary on the culture I'm seeing here will be coming soon!!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Landing on the other side of the world...
Hong Kong, 8:20 local time
Stepping off the plane in a time-lost stupor after approximately 20 hours of travel, my breath caught in my throat, shaking me awake. The Hong Kong airport is surrounded by lush green mountains that touch the clouds. It suddenly hits me: I'm in ASIA!!! You'd think that being amidst incomprehensible Asian languages for 13 hours straight would have alerted meto what was coming but I was wholly unprepared to see such gorgeous landscapes by the airport. Suffice to say, I'm coming back to explore Hong Kong someday. Going through security, a nice Asian woman asks if I'm going through to Bangkok. I say "No, Vietnam" and she replies "Ah, you look like a teacher." I explain that I am, in fact, teaching in Vietnam and we part ways. I've been slightly worried over the past few days about getting into the rhythm of lesson planning and teaching but this interaction lifts my spirits a bit. At least I look the part?
Okay, flight 3 of 4 is boarding so here I go....onto my home for the next 6 months or so; Vietnam, here I come!
Stepping off the plane in a time-lost stupor after approximately 20 hours of travel, my breath caught in my throat, shaking me awake. The Hong Kong airport is surrounded by lush green mountains that touch the clouds. It suddenly hits me: I'm in ASIA!!! You'd think that being amidst incomprehensible Asian languages for 13 hours straight would have alerted meto what was coming but I was wholly unprepared to see such gorgeous landscapes by the airport. Suffice to say, I'm coming back to explore Hong Kong someday. Going through security, a nice Asian woman asks if I'm going through to Bangkok. I say "No, Vietnam" and she replies "Ah, you look like a teacher." I explain that I am, in fact, teaching in Vietnam and we part ways. I've been slightly worried over the past few days about getting into the rhythm of lesson planning and teaching but this interaction lifts my spirits a bit. At least I look the part?
Okay, flight 3 of 4 is boarding so here I go....onto my home for the next 6 months or so; Vietnam, here I come!
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