A few days ago, there were a ton of chickens crammed into a chicken wire cage. Whenever one of them moved, they all moved, and a few of them were definitely getting bullied. Yesterday, the chickens got a little more room to move around in because there was a wedding this morning. We got to watch the women at our hotel plucking feathers off of buckets of dead chickens. Unfortunately, there are still a few chickens in the cage, and they smell rank. Trust me, they smell better dead. Also unfortunate: the cage is right next to where we wash laundry. Let me tell you, you have not suffered through laundry until you have washed your clothes next to a cage of chickens.
May (my roommate) and I always wash laundry together. We call it our team building. It's usually fun, but today May recalled the slogan printed on the back of our shirts here: "Challenge yourself. Change the world." She was dying with the smell of these chickens. It was hilarious. After about 3 minutes, I heard, "'Challenge yourself. Change the world.' Ugh, I only wanted to change the status of my laundry, but it's impossible with these chickens!"
Friday, August 5, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Happy Memorial Day, Vietnam/ Gosh Dangit, I knew that bush was sharp.
On Tuesday, we were invited to attend a ceremony at a war memorial in town. Of course, when the People's Committee "invites" us to do something, we do not actually have the choice of whether or not to attend. Therefore, when 6 p.m. rolled around Tuesday evening, we were on our way to the service. Rows of people were lined up in columns going from the front of the courtyard to the entry gates. We stood between rows of students from the Youth Union whom we had met at dinner on Sunday. The speeches lasted for only about 15 minutes after we got there. Important guests brought up bouquets and lit massive sticks of incense. Similar ceremonies occurred all over Vietnam on the night of the 26th, Memorial Day Eve.
The memorial itself in Mo Cay town is a female soldier. Apparently, Ben Tre province is famous for having many female fighters. After the ceremony, everybody went up to light incense and candles. Little by little, people filtered out into the entire graveyard surrounding the memorial--soldiers are buried there, instead of in their ancestral graves. Soon, every single white grave had a candle and sticks of incense burning in front of it. The entire cemetery remained lit until it started raining.
Almost everyone decided to leave right before the rain came, but it was pitch black, and we were riding bikes sooo instead we sat down on the porch of Ho Chi Minh's shrine. These men started coming out of it, serving us tea, and then they brought this massive dish full of Ho Chi Minh's fruit out, but I was too creeped out by the thought of Ho Chi Minh's spirit having already eaten the fruit to eat it.
That night was the night I most thought I blended in like a Vietnamese person. It was pitch black, raining, and I was sporting a bright yellow poncho.
The memorial itself in Mo Cay town is a female soldier. Apparently, Ben Tre province is famous for having many female fighters. After the ceremony, everybody went up to light incense and candles. Little by little, people filtered out into the entire graveyard surrounding the memorial--soldiers are buried there, instead of in their ancestral graves. Soon, every single white grave had a candle and sticks of incense burning in front of it. The entire cemetery remained lit until it started raining.
Almost everyone decided to leave right before the rain came, but it was pitch black, and we were riding bikes sooo instead we sat down on the porch of Ho Chi Minh's shrine. These men started coming out of it, serving us tea, and then they brought this massive dish full of Ho Chi Minh's fruit out, but I was too creeped out by the thought of Ho Chi Minh's spirit having already eaten the fruit to eat it.
That night was the night I most thought I blended in like a Vietnamese person. It was pitch black, raining, and I was sporting a bright yellow poncho.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Agent Orange
Last Sunday, we talked with some veterans at the People's Committee, which is the local government. The vets focused on the fact that the war is in the past, but the threat of unexploded landmines and the effects of chemical warfare in the form of Agent Orange are still present. They requested that we educate others about the dangers of chemical warfare, protest against companies manufacturing similar toxins, start funds to help those suffering from them, and devote our scientific studies to finding cures.
I did not make it to the room in the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City with photos of people suffering from the poison, but apparently there is picture after picture of people with odd deformities. I have noticed more people here in Vietnam using wheelchair-bike devices, with crossed or blind eyes, or with random growths on their faces than I notice at home, but I do not know whether or not they are birth defects caused by Agent Orange.
The man in charge of the Veteran Union, who was only about 10 years old during the war, was refreshingly kind and forgiving towards Americans. He repeatedly acknowledged that not all Americans are violent and that the War Remnants Museum tells only a scewed, evil side of the story, without examining all aspects of the war. His consideration in making this distinction went a long way with me, especially after having observed firsthand the biased nature of the museum.
Most Vietnamese people show zero bias towards us. In fact, there is American flag and "USA" merchandise everywhere you look. I think I was anticipating a bias because when Americans think of Vietnam, they think only of the Vietnam War. However, for the Vietnamese, the American War was just a small part of their long history of war. More recently than the United States, this country has been at war with Cambodia and China, and just before us, they faced France and China as well. They certainly do not seem to share the same impressions of us that we naively have of them after 40 years.
I did not make it to the room in the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City with photos of people suffering from the poison, but apparently there is picture after picture of people with odd deformities. I have noticed more people here in Vietnam using wheelchair-bike devices, with crossed or blind eyes, or with random growths on their faces than I notice at home, but I do not know whether or not they are birth defects caused by Agent Orange.
The man in charge of the Veteran Union, who was only about 10 years old during the war, was refreshingly kind and forgiving towards Americans. He repeatedly acknowledged that not all Americans are violent and that the War Remnants Museum tells only a scewed, evil side of the story, without examining all aspects of the war. His consideration in making this distinction went a long way with me, especially after having observed firsthand the biased nature of the museum.
Most Vietnamese people show zero bias towards us. In fact, there is American flag and "USA" merchandise everywhere you look. I think I was anticipating a bias because when Americans think of Vietnam, they think only of the Vietnam War. However, for the Vietnamese, the American War was just a small part of their long history of war. More recently than the United States, this country has been at war with Cambodia and China, and just before us, they faced France and China as well. They certainly do not seem to share the same impressions of us that we naively have of them after 40 years.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Dear Dad
Things Dad would not like:
Riding our bikes in the rain. "Put your bike back in the garage. It'll rust if it rains!"
Bare feet at the construction site. "Put some steel-toed boots on when you're in the kitchen. A knife might drop."
Things Dad might like:
On Saturday, our planned excursion was a trip to the soccer field to play the administrators and kids from the local Youth Union. In the second half, my shin collided with one of the boys, and after I had been playing for a few minutes, I looked down and saw the nastiest bump on my shin. I completely freaked and ran off the field. Hoang Anh compared it to a guava at first, a second knee once the swelling had gone down, a mountain later that day, and a hill the next day. She kindly wished that it wouldn't become a valley the day after. If Dad were there, he would have fixed it first and then laughed at me for getting so upset. It was hardly hurting, but every time I looked down and saw that lump, I started hyperventilating again. Not my best.
Our Thursday night dinner conversation revolved partly around the fact that my dad is the only follower on all my friends' blogs. They like your picture, by the way. One of them also thought you were from Alaska.
Riding our bikes in the rain. "Put your bike back in the garage. It'll rust if it rains!"
Bare feet at the construction site. "Put some steel-toed boots on when you're in the kitchen. A knife might drop."
Things Dad might like:
On Saturday, our planned excursion was a trip to the soccer field to play the administrators and kids from the local Youth Union. In the second half, my shin collided with one of the boys, and after I had been playing for a few minutes, I looked down and saw the nastiest bump on my shin. I completely freaked and ran off the field. Hoang Anh compared it to a guava at first, a second knee once the swelling had gone down, a mountain later that day, and a hill the next day. She kindly wished that it wouldn't become a valley the day after. If Dad were there, he would have fixed it first and then laughed at me for getting so upset. It was hardly hurting, but every time I looked down and saw that lump, I started hyperventilating again. Not my best.
Our Thursday night dinner conversation revolved partly around the fact that my dad is the only follower on all my friends' blogs. They like your picture, by the way. One of them also thought you were from Alaska.
Situation normal
Friday morning, on my way to work, I saw a man sanding the feathers off a live chicken. I was already feeling nautious from taking my malaria meds on an empty stomach, and that did not help.
Our ride to work is really different here. We turn right out of our hotel onto the National Highway, the Vietnamese equivalent of I-95. Where we are, it's a 2-lane road with a dotted white line and fruit stands every 10 meters that people park on the side of the road for. There are cows grazing on the sides, and chickens running around. Endless palm trees line both sides and creeks flow through them, separating the houses from the road. Once we get closer to town, the traffic is terrifying. Pedestrians yield to bikes, bikes yield to motorbikes, and trucks do whatever they want. Logan almost ran into a man with one leg crutching along the side of the highway. Almost all of us have had some kind of small biking mishap already.
After the market, we cross two arched bridges, just big enough for boats laden with coconuts to pass under. After a few kilometers, we turn onto a palm tree-lined sidewalk with creeks on both sides. We ride over two more bridges--sidewalk-sized with no railings. It stinks when motorbikes decide to pass me on these sidewalk-bridges, especially motorbikes like the one today, which had three people on it (which is technically illegal).
Then we turn left onto an even smaller sidewalk and cross two more bridges. It stinks even more when motorbikes try to pass on those. The final part of the bike ride is the hanging bridge. This morning there were two dogs in my way. I was pretty sure I was going to kill them or go over the edge, but somehow we're all still alive. After that bridge, we park our bikes and start walking over monkey bridges. They're made of anything that's available and allow us to traverse the water network by foot. The first one we cross is a bundle of bamboo trunks, then lots of wooden branches, then mud, then a coconut tree trunk, then a concrete beam, then one reinforced with wooden planks, just for us, and Yay! We're there.
Though our daily commute is unnerving from a self-preservation standpoint, there are a lot of quality sights along the way. I see one or two huge blue and black butterflies almost daily. We are passed by men in neon orange jumpsuits who are apparently engineers on their way to work. I feel a kind of kinship with them--our fellow inmates. There is a row of casket stores, all open-air, of course. The other day I saw a little girl chatting with an old man on a bench in front of the displayed coffins. Then my personal favorite is a pair of statues. There is a T-Rex tethered to an umbrella pole, claws outstretched. In front of him is a slightly shorter Buddha statue on her shrine, oblivious to the fact that Barney is about to take her out.
Last Wednesday was our first day playing soccer with the teachers and construction workers from the elementary school where we teach. Backing up a bit, people here drink wine and beer like we drink coffee. They start early--like 6 a.m. early. They also sometimes take an afternoon wine break, instead of tea. The first day we played soccer with them, the computer teacher interrupted Logan and I during class and asked us to come over and chat with him and the principle. The principle was feeling a bit woozy, though, so we just went into the office with Tri, Alyce's assistant, and had the most scatter-brained chat you could imagine. One second we were talking about the location of the soccer stadium, and the next, he was asking how to say 'spring roll' in English. The game ended with a kid spraining his arm and the computer teacher puking on the sidelines. He played better the next day.
Our ride to work is really different here. We turn right out of our hotel onto the National Highway, the Vietnamese equivalent of I-95. Where we are, it's a 2-lane road with a dotted white line and fruit stands every 10 meters that people park on the side of the road for. There are cows grazing on the sides, and chickens running around. Endless palm trees line both sides and creeks flow through them, separating the houses from the road. Once we get closer to town, the traffic is terrifying. Pedestrians yield to bikes, bikes yield to motorbikes, and trucks do whatever they want. Logan almost ran into a man with one leg crutching along the side of the highway. Almost all of us have had some kind of small biking mishap already.
After the market, we cross two arched bridges, just big enough for boats laden with coconuts to pass under. After a few kilometers, we turn onto a palm tree-lined sidewalk with creeks on both sides. We ride over two more bridges--sidewalk-sized with no railings. It stinks when motorbikes decide to pass me on these sidewalk-bridges, especially motorbikes like the one today, which had three people on it (which is technically illegal).
Then we turn left onto an even smaller sidewalk and cross two more bridges. It stinks even more when motorbikes try to pass on those. The final part of the bike ride is the hanging bridge. This morning there were two dogs in my way. I was pretty sure I was going to kill them or go over the edge, but somehow we're all still alive. After that bridge, we park our bikes and start walking over monkey bridges. They're made of anything that's available and allow us to traverse the water network by foot. The first one we cross is a bundle of bamboo trunks, then lots of wooden branches, then mud, then a coconut tree trunk, then a concrete beam, then one reinforced with wooden planks, just for us, and Yay! We're there.
Though our daily commute is unnerving from a self-preservation standpoint, there are a lot of quality sights along the way. I see one or two huge blue and black butterflies almost daily. We are passed by men in neon orange jumpsuits who are apparently engineers on their way to work. I feel a kind of kinship with them--our fellow inmates. There is a row of casket stores, all open-air, of course. The other day I saw a little girl chatting with an old man on a bench in front of the displayed coffins. Then my personal favorite is a pair of statues. There is a T-Rex tethered to an umbrella pole, claws outstretched. In front of him is a slightly shorter Buddha statue on her shrine, oblivious to the fact that Barney is about to take her out.
Last Wednesday was our first day playing soccer with the teachers and construction workers from the elementary school where we teach. Backing up a bit, people here drink wine and beer like we drink coffee. They start early--like 6 a.m. early. They also sometimes take an afternoon wine break, instead of tea. The first day we played soccer with them, the computer teacher interrupted Logan and I during class and asked us to come over and chat with him and the principle. The principle was feeling a bit woozy, though, so we just went into the office with Tri, Alyce's assistant, and had the most scatter-brained chat you could imagine. One second we were talking about the location of the soccer stadium, and the next, he was asking how to say 'spring roll' in English. The game ended with a kid spraining his arm and the computer teacher puking on the sidelines. He played better the next day.
A whole new world
Bến Tre is in the Mekong River Delta, so there is water everywhere. It also means that it has a rainy season and a dry season. This is the rainy season. Every single day, it rains at least once. Usually it comes in the form of a freak downpour for about 20 minutes, and then it clears up.
On our first day here, we experienced the rainstorms, and also the traffic accidents. I came within inches of two motorbike accidents in the first two days. Nobody died, and I'm 86% sure they weren't my fault. We also experienced the rumored hospitality immediately. We were forced to eat 4 meals on the first day because everybody wanted to feed us, and we weren't allowed to say 'no' without offending people. We ate breakfast at 9, lunch at 12, first dinner at 3, and second dinner at 8. We went to the market as a group that night, and some guy started taking tons of pictures of and with us. He apparently works for the government in some capacity, but he just looked like a shop owner. Supposedly these pictures will one day end up on the town's website, MoCay.org, but considering how quickly things work around here, they will probably take months to be approved.
On our first Sunday, we visited the work site. The family's house is far from being bike-accessible. They live in between a number of streams, and their current house is very small and quite unstable. It has just one room, a low roof, and is made entirely out of woven palm leaves. Both of the parents have mental handicaps, but in this country, mental illnesses are usually seen as a personal problem, perhaps a spiritual one, and therefore there are no attempts to diagnose or treat them. Mr. Minh is the father. He never speaks to us or makes eye contact, but he works very hard with us. He is quite strong. His wife acts similarly, though in the past few days we've caught her smiling a couple times. Their son is 15 years old, but physically he looks about 8. He spent a few years in 3rd grade, and finally stopped going because he could not progress past that level. His name is Kha, and he is really cute. He is surprisingly strong and helps us carry heavy loads of materials. We heard he was a really good fisher, which is true, but the fish that he catches are these little tiny mudskippers, only a couple inches long. Unfortunately, this talent can't help earn money for the family, because anyone can catch these fish, and they provide hardly any meat. Only families with no money eat these minuscule fish. Before we left, Kha climbed a huge coconut tree, dropped down some coconuts, and fed them to us. Delicious.
On our first day here, we experienced the rainstorms, and also the traffic accidents. I came within inches of two motorbike accidents in the first two days. Nobody died, and I'm 86% sure they weren't my fault. We also experienced the rumored hospitality immediately. We were forced to eat 4 meals on the first day because everybody wanted to feed us, and we weren't allowed to say 'no' without offending people. We ate breakfast at 9, lunch at 12, first dinner at 3, and second dinner at 8. We went to the market as a group that night, and some guy started taking tons of pictures of and with us. He apparently works for the government in some capacity, but he just looked like a shop owner. Supposedly these pictures will one day end up on the town's website, MoCay.org, but considering how quickly things work around here, they will probably take months to be approved.
On our first Sunday, we visited the work site. The family's house is far from being bike-accessible. They live in between a number of streams, and their current house is very small and quite unstable. It has just one room, a low roof, and is made entirely out of woven palm leaves. Both of the parents have mental handicaps, but in this country, mental illnesses are usually seen as a personal problem, perhaps a spiritual one, and therefore there are no attempts to diagnose or treat them. Mr. Minh is the father. He never speaks to us or makes eye contact, but he works very hard with us. He is quite strong. His wife acts similarly, though in the past few days we've caught her smiling a couple times. Their son is 15 years old, but physically he looks about 8. He spent a few years in 3rd grade, and finally stopped going because he could not progress past that level. His name is Kha, and he is really cute. He is surprisingly strong and helps us carry heavy loads of materials. We heard he was a really good fisher, which is true, but the fish that he catches are these little tiny mudskippers, only a couple inches long. Unfortunately, this talent can't help earn money for the family, because anyone can catch these fish, and they provide hardly any meat. Only families with no money eat these minuscule fish. Before we left, Kha climbed a huge coconut tree, dropped down some coconuts, and fed them to us. Delicious.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
May increase morbidity and mortality.
Before we went to Quảng Trị, Alyce (our program leader) warned us about bodies in the water, land mines in the jungle, hidden police in the streets, mosquitoes in the fields, cockroaches in the shower, and snakes in the food. As it turns out, most of those things are true, but none of them threatened us. Hundreds of people died in the river during the Vietnam War, remaining landmines are a minor threat, Juan-Pablo met an "English teacher" who turned out to be a policeman, mosquitoes occasionally feasted on our uncovered legs, cockroaches definitely made appearances in our bathrooms, and some people eat snakes ("Snake is good!" exclaims May upon reading this).
--Side note--
The lady who cooks lunch for us (aka The Lunch Lady) has a python in a cage in her backyard. Two days ago, there was a live chicken in the cage. Yesterday, there was a dead chicken and a dead rat in the cage. Today, there was just a python.
-- --
The first night with our new roommates in HCMC, Khai (Joey's roommate, from the Mekong Delta, 2nd year student at Foreign Trade University--FTU--in HCMC) asked us if we wanted to go to a coffee shop where he was meeting some friends from California. We all went and ended up at this sick coffee shop outside of downtown Saigon in a room chock full of FTU students and American college students who were apparently creating an English club. The power went off when we got there, so we lit candles all along the table, and I discussed morals with Kathy, 2 of our roommates, a Vietnamese-American graduate of George Mason University, a Vietnamese housewife, and a random FTU student.
They explained to me the importance of kids obeying their parents. I told them about the great variability in parenting styles and the tendency to encourage independence and self-sufficiency. Neither method seems necessarily superior. People in America and Vietnam are very happy. They grow up, function normally, and contribute to society in some way. It made me think of a talk I had with May (my new roommate, born in the South to avoid the 2 child per family law, raised near Hà Nội, moved to HCMC at age 5, 3rd year econ major at FTU, favorite month: May) earlier that day. I made fun of her for not wanting to hurt people's eyes by leaving a scab uncovered, and then again for not wanting to torture others by singing karaoke. I told her she should have more confidence and do what she wants to do instead of worrying about others, but she said she cares what others think. In the States, that would be considered a bad thing 95% of the time, but here, it seems to be a matter of being considerate. In a society that is hesitant to voice personal opinions out of consideration for the group on the whole, it is more important for individuals to be in tune with what others are thinking and feeling. May said, "Well, if I care about them, why shouldn't I care what they think?" It makes a lot of sense, if you think about it.
On our last day in HCMC, we found The Market. We'd been looking for a local market with local prices, not tourist prices, and Tri finally brought us to this heavenly place. Unfortunately, my feet are too big for Vietnamese sizes. They have the cutest flats here. Only $2.50 a pair. The coolest thing I saw there were huge vats of coagulated duck blood. It's light purple and the consistency of smooth guacamole. My first thought was that is was some kind of mashed eggplant. Guess again.
Last Saturday, we came to beautiful Bến Tre. The accommodations are super nice compared to what else we've had, despite the live spiders (now frozen) in the refrigerator.
When we went to Bến Tre, Alyce gave us a similar warning shpiel to that of Quảng Trị. We have to wear bright orange shirts at all times, in case people don't notice that we're white. We look like inmates. They had the same arrangement last year, and one night the police came at 4 in the morning to check and see if all the students were really sleeping at their hotel. When we asked Alyce why they had done it, she said, "Maybe they heard a rumor that you guys escaped." ....Escaped what, exactly? Basically the local government just likes to know where we are at all times. They plan our weekend activities for us and sometimes follow us home from work. Alyce also informed us that the province is famous for being a Communist hot spot. Finally, she told us we'd have our commute along the biggest highway in Việt Nam. Her words: "I really recommend you wear your helmets, because once you get hit by a truck, it becomes kind of dangerous."
One of the things that is threatening us here are the mosquitoes. We are covered in bites from them and no-see-ums. Our malaria meds are also killing us, though. All the students who are still on them are getting stomachaches, so the other day we spent about an hour trying to diagnose Kathy's symptoms on Mayo Clinic and good old wikipedia. We discovered that the medications a Vietnamese doctor gave her "may increase morbidity and mortality" if she didn't have bronchitis, which she didn't. I'm not sure whether that's more or less helpful than the last time Kathy called International SOS and ended up chatting with an old woman in Singapore about her toes.
--Side note--
The lady who cooks lunch for us (aka The Lunch Lady) has a python in a cage in her backyard. Two days ago, there was a live chicken in the cage. Yesterday, there was a dead chicken and a dead rat in the cage. Today, there was just a python.
-- --
The first night with our new roommates in HCMC, Khai (Joey's roommate, from the Mekong Delta, 2nd year student at Foreign Trade University--FTU--in HCMC) asked us if we wanted to go to a coffee shop where he was meeting some friends from California. We all went and ended up at this sick coffee shop outside of downtown Saigon in a room chock full of FTU students and American college students who were apparently creating an English club. The power went off when we got there, so we lit candles all along the table, and I discussed morals with Kathy, 2 of our roommates, a Vietnamese-American graduate of George Mason University, a Vietnamese housewife, and a random FTU student.
They explained to me the importance of kids obeying their parents. I told them about the great variability in parenting styles and the tendency to encourage independence and self-sufficiency. Neither method seems necessarily superior. People in America and Vietnam are very happy. They grow up, function normally, and contribute to society in some way. It made me think of a talk I had with May (my new roommate, born in the South to avoid the 2 child per family law, raised near Hà Nội, moved to HCMC at age 5, 3rd year econ major at FTU, favorite month: May) earlier that day. I made fun of her for not wanting to hurt people's eyes by leaving a scab uncovered, and then again for not wanting to torture others by singing karaoke. I told her she should have more confidence and do what she wants to do instead of worrying about others, but she said she cares what others think. In the States, that would be considered a bad thing 95% of the time, but here, it seems to be a matter of being considerate. In a society that is hesitant to voice personal opinions out of consideration for the group on the whole, it is more important for individuals to be in tune with what others are thinking and feeling. May said, "Well, if I care about them, why shouldn't I care what they think?" It makes a lot of sense, if you think about it.
On our last day in HCMC, we found The Market. We'd been looking for a local market with local prices, not tourist prices, and Tri finally brought us to this heavenly place. Unfortunately, my feet are too big for Vietnamese sizes. They have the cutest flats here. Only $2.50 a pair. The coolest thing I saw there were huge vats of coagulated duck blood. It's light purple and the consistency of smooth guacamole. My first thought was that is was some kind of mashed eggplant. Guess again.
Last Saturday, we came to beautiful Bến Tre. The accommodations are super nice compared to what else we've had, despite the live spiders (now frozen) in the refrigerator.
When we went to Bến Tre, Alyce gave us a similar warning shpiel to that of Quảng Trị. We have to wear bright orange shirts at all times, in case people don't notice that we're white. We look like inmates. They had the same arrangement last year, and one night the police came at 4 in the morning to check and see if all the students were really sleeping at their hotel. When we asked Alyce why they had done it, she said, "Maybe they heard a rumor that you guys escaped." ....Escaped what, exactly? Basically the local government just likes to know where we are at all times. They plan our weekend activities for us and sometimes follow us home from work. Alyce also informed us that the province is famous for being a Communist hot spot. Finally, she told us we'd have our commute along the biggest highway in Việt Nam. Her words: "I really recommend you wear your helmets, because once you get hit by a truck, it becomes kind of dangerous."
One of the things that is threatening us here are the mosquitoes. We are covered in bites from them and no-see-ums. Our malaria meds are also killing us, though. All the students who are still on them are getting stomachaches, so the other day we spent about an hour trying to diagnose Kathy's symptoms on Mayo Clinic and good old wikipedia. We discovered that the medications a Vietnamese doctor gave her "may increase morbidity and mortality" if she didn't have bronchitis, which she didn't. I'm not sure whether that's more or less helpful than the last time Kathy called International SOS and ended up chatting with an old woman in Singapore about her toes.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Sorry for being a bad blogger.
Hi! I am still alive! I am now back in Ho Chi Minh City after 23 days in Quang Tri, in central Vietnam. The 17th parallel, the dividing line between North and South Vietnam during the war, actually goes right through the province. Now the only foreigners who visit are war vets, but those are few and far between. Quang Tri was also the site of an 81-day-long bombing known as the 2nd Battle of Quang Tri. During those months, every living resident of the area is estimated to have sustained many thousands of pounds worth of bombs. The Army of the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam, supported by the US) used 80,000 tons of artillery. That's 1,000 tons per day for 3 months. My roommate's parents, for example, survived those days, though they were just little children at the time.
The signs of the war are present everywhere, but never overwhelming. Right on the main road of Quang Tri Town, where we stayed, there is a bombed out school. It cannot be rebuilt because it, like many other destroyed buildings in Vietnam, now belongs to the government and is considered a historic relic. We biked by this school everyday, and finally we went in it. Some of the stairs are still intact, though much of the floor, walls, and ceiling is not. We went upstairs and walked through holes in the walls from one classroom into another. You can still see the chalkboards on some of the walls, and on them, groups of students who used to attend the school have written notes. It is a sad but striking site. The school now houses a family in one of the downstairs classrooms. There also seems to be a plant shop of sorts that operates out of it. There are all kinds of beautiful bonsai trees and shrubs in pots covering the ground.
Further along on our bike ride to work, there is a bombed out concrete tower that looks like it may have been a watchtower many years ago. It is along the river, but it has been abandoned now, and nobody knows what its story was. On the other side of the river, there is a monument with drops of blood, honoring the people who lost their lives in the war.
About a block away from our guest house, in town, is a big pagoda-like structure, right along the river. It is primarily ceremonial, but inside of the temple, there is a shrine on one side to Ho Chi Minh, and on the other to the soldiers who died during the wars, both the French and American Wars, I think. Although Quang Tri is a small, unimportant province politically, there is a huge ceremony held there every year which attended by high-ranking government officials, Buddhist monks, war veterans, and other citizens. It happens on the plaza in front of the pagoda (the same place we watch the sun go down every night as we play soccer with the local boys). This year, a Buddhist temple sponsored an extra service a few days before the ceremony. Going back to the 81-day bombing, many Southern Vietnamese soldiers tried, those days, to swim across the river in front of the pagoda to protect the large citadel. Thousands of men died trying to cross this river, now referred to as the Blood River. During the ceremony, therefore, they light paper lanterns to wish for the men who died.
One night, we went to have coffee by the river and discovered that it was filled with these paper lanterns. It looked like there was a city in the river because of all the lights. There were thousands of them, filling the river for as far as we could see. They had been sending them out for 3 hours. Each lantern is a wish, and with all those lanterns, I thought there must be 10 wishes for each person who died in the river, but my Vietnamese friend Hien told me that, "No, many more people died here than the number of lanterns you see floating here."
We watched this fiery floating mass go gently down the river, gradually getting smaller as they floated downstream from their point of release at the pagoda. I wanted to know why these people were there, so Hien asked a man about the ceremony. He explained it and asked me, in Vietnamese, if I wanted to go inside the temple. He unlocked it for me and let us go inside to pray for the soldiers, in Buddhist fashion.
Hien then asked the people in one of the boats--classic, long wooden boats--if they might take us out there. Some people had released the lanterns from the middle or the far side of the river, so this "security" boat for the pagoda had been one of the ones ferrying people to the middle of the river. They let the 5 of us--Hien, Joey, Pablo, Katie, and me--get on the boat, and they used a pole to push along the bottom of the river, sending us out to the middle. They turned the engine on low and drove us into the middle of the lanterns, each one representing a dead soldier. We were in a sea of lantern wishes, sitting on bamboo mats, and as we looked back at the pagoda, we saw the moon rising orange over the palm trees on the far bank. It was one of my favorite nights in Vietnam.
One of the most interesting things I have seen, and I was confused by it at first, are these men I saw on my way to work every morning, wielding metal detectors and walking through mud and dirt where the road was being expanded. It seemed weird that this team of men could make a living off of finding shards of valuable metal in the ground. Finally I asked Phuong (my roommate) about it, and learned that they were not, as I had guessed, trying to pass time looking for stray coins, but were actually searching for unexploded land mines. Never expect to see that in the States.
The signs of the war are present everywhere, but never overwhelming. Right on the main road of Quang Tri Town, where we stayed, there is a bombed out school. It cannot be rebuilt because it, like many other destroyed buildings in Vietnam, now belongs to the government and is considered a historic relic. We biked by this school everyday, and finally we went in it. Some of the stairs are still intact, though much of the floor, walls, and ceiling is not. We went upstairs and walked through holes in the walls from one classroom into another. You can still see the chalkboards on some of the walls, and on them, groups of students who used to attend the school have written notes. It is a sad but striking site. The school now houses a family in one of the downstairs classrooms. There also seems to be a plant shop of sorts that operates out of it. There are all kinds of beautiful bonsai trees and shrubs in pots covering the ground.
Further along on our bike ride to work, there is a bombed out concrete tower that looks like it may have been a watchtower many years ago. It is along the river, but it has been abandoned now, and nobody knows what its story was. On the other side of the river, there is a monument with drops of blood, honoring the people who lost their lives in the war.
About a block away from our guest house, in town, is a big pagoda-like structure, right along the river. It is primarily ceremonial, but inside of the temple, there is a shrine on one side to Ho Chi Minh, and on the other to the soldiers who died during the wars, both the French and American Wars, I think. Although Quang Tri is a small, unimportant province politically, there is a huge ceremony held there every year which attended by high-ranking government officials, Buddhist monks, war veterans, and other citizens. It happens on the plaza in front of the pagoda (the same place we watch the sun go down every night as we play soccer with the local boys). This year, a Buddhist temple sponsored an extra service a few days before the ceremony. Going back to the 81-day bombing, many Southern Vietnamese soldiers tried, those days, to swim across the river in front of the pagoda to protect the large citadel. Thousands of men died trying to cross this river, now referred to as the Blood River. During the ceremony, therefore, they light paper lanterns to wish for the men who died.
One night, we went to have coffee by the river and discovered that it was filled with these paper lanterns. It looked like there was a city in the river because of all the lights. There were thousands of them, filling the river for as far as we could see. They had been sending them out for 3 hours. Each lantern is a wish, and with all those lanterns, I thought there must be 10 wishes for each person who died in the river, but my Vietnamese friend Hien told me that, "No, many more people died here than the number of lanterns you see floating here."
We watched this fiery floating mass go gently down the river, gradually getting smaller as they floated downstream from their point of release at the pagoda. I wanted to know why these people were there, so Hien asked a man about the ceremony. He explained it and asked me, in Vietnamese, if I wanted to go inside the temple. He unlocked it for me and let us go inside to pray for the soldiers, in Buddhist fashion.
Hien then asked the people in one of the boats--classic, long wooden boats--if they might take us out there. Some people had released the lanterns from the middle or the far side of the river, so this "security" boat for the pagoda had been one of the ones ferrying people to the middle of the river. They let the 5 of us--Hien, Joey, Pablo, Katie, and me--get on the boat, and they used a pole to push along the bottom of the river, sending us out to the middle. They turned the engine on low and drove us into the middle of the lanterns, each one representing a dead soldier. We were in a sea of lantern wishes, sitting on bamboo mats, and as we looked back at the pagoda, we saw the moon rising orange over the palm trees on the far bank. It was one of my favorite nights in Vietnam.
One of the most interesting things I have seen, and I was confused by it at first, are these men I saw on my way to work every morning, wielding metal detectors and walking through mud and dirt where the road was being expanded. It seemed weird that this team of men could make a living off of finding shards of valuable metal in the ground. Finally I asked Phuong (my roommate) about it, and learned that they were not, as I had guessed, trying to pass time looking for stray coins, but were actually searching for unexploded land mines. Never expect to see that in the States.
Monday, June 20, 2011
I shouldn't reveal the devil.
We began learning some Vietnamese on our third day in HCMC, Monday. After a week of 4 hours of Vietnamese a day, we can now introduce ourselves, say where we're from, and say "I like," "I want," "I want to buy," "give me," and ask for directions. Understanding the directions is a bit trickier, as we learned when we took to the streets to practice on unsuspecting strangers. We were trying to get to a market about 3 blocks directly down the street from us, yet everyone we asked told us different things, drew us maps, and spoke Vietnamese so quickly. We eventually got there, though. When we got there, we bargained (not bartered, as I like to say) for lower prices on things. We know numbers and how to say "too expensive," "lower the price," and "no." That's really all you need. Kathy was the master from our class at actually trying to speak. We started trying to haggle for some bracelets at one shop, and she developed a crowd of people who tried to advise her on pronunciation and vocabulary. Of course, they were doing it all in Vietnamese, but it kind of worked. Unfortunately that was in a fixed price store, so we walked away with nothing. Kathy tried again at another store, where she didn't really want to buy anything, but she asked how much a dress was, and then offered half the price. She didn't expect the shopkeeper to say yes, but eventually she did, so Kathy is now the proud owner of a dress made for a very tiny Vietnamese woman. Fortunately Kathy is Vietnamese-sized, so it works out.
Nights in HCMC, we kept hanging out and trying new fruits. They have a lot of jack fruits, which taste "like a banana, and a starburst, but not a banana starburst." Kathy and I put that one together. It is so true. I dare you to taste one, and you will understand completely.
Katie plays guitar really well and sings, so we did some in-house karaoke. We also exchanged quality YouTube videos like, "How to rock a mohawk without chopping off your hair." We talked about our families, and about mutual friends. Kathy made the bold statement, "I always wanted a friend." I think we can hook her up while we're here. We also almost convinced Joey, who plays in the marching band, to reveal the student/students who act as the Blue Devil mascot during basketball, football, soccer, etc. games, but he stopped short.
Nights in HCMC, we kept hanging out and trying new fruits. They have a lot of jack fruits, which taste "like a banana, and a starburst, but not a banana starburst." Kathy and I put that one together. It is so true. I dare you to taste one, and you will understand completely.
Katie plays guitar really well and sings, so we did some in-house karaoke. We also exchanged quality YouTube videos like, "How to rock a mohawk without chopping off your hair." We talked about our families, and about mutual friends. Kathy made the bold statement, "I always wanted a friend." I think we can hook her up while we're here. We also almost convinced Joey, who plays in the marching band, to reveal the student/students who act as the Blue Devil mascot during basketball, football, soccer, etc. games, but he stopped short.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Double Black Diamond
By far the craziest thing we've done here so far is cross the streets. Picture a high-speed 6-lane highway filled with motorbikes and cars. Then think about stepping off the sidewalk onto that highway and walking across without looking. It's kind of fun once you get the hang of it, until you almost get run over by a dump truck that won't stop.
These motorbikes especially are insane. They're all over the streets. There are cars, too, but far more bikes. I've seen a few with four people on them. I'm not sure how, but I guess they just squeeze each other really tightly and hope they don't fall off. There are also bikes with huge piles of stuff on them, or big crates, or anything you can think of. Yesterday we saw someone with a huge bunch of pink balloons. He couldn't even see around them.
Sunday morning we visited the Presidential Palace, which you can just roam around now, since no president has lived there since the South surrendered in 1975. A lot of the decor looks like it's straight out of the 70s. There's a gambling room with courduroy chairs and yellow carpets. Classic. We almost lost Xuan there, but eventually found her wandering around more slowly through different rooms. The Palace was the historic spot where we first got asked to have our pictures taken with Asian tourists! They were so thrilled to see us. They ran up to Kathy and me and pointed excitedly at their camera. They seemed a little surprised, but really happy, when I wanted a picture on my camera with them, too.
We went to this huge mall that is super upscale and maybe 6 floors tall. It has really nice stores that very few people in Vietnam would be able to afford. Few Americans could afford the high-end stores, with 24K gold iPod covers, etc. I just got the 14K one. (jokes) The one thing we did buy there was food. Mm so good. We got hot pot, where you get a bunch of food and cook it in broth on your table. They brought us all kinds of seafood and meat and veggies and then basically cooked it and served it to us because we had no idea what to do. A little embarrassing, but they seemed entertained, and we were well fed. The weirdest thing I ate there was clam. It tastes good, but it took me a good few minutes to actaully swallow it.
These motorbikes especially are insane. They're all over the streets. There are cars, too, but far more bikes. I've seen a few with four people on them. I'm not sure how, but I guess they just squeeze each other really tightly and hope they don't fall off. There are also bikes with huge piles of stuff on them, or big crates, or anything you can think of. Yesterday we saw someone with a huge bunch of pink balloons. He couldn't even see around them.
Sunday morning we visited the Presidential Palace, which you can just roam around now, since no president has lived there since the South surrendered in 1975. A lot of the decor looks like it's straight out of the 70s. There's a gambling room with courduroy chairs and yellow carpets. Classic. We almost lost Xuan there, but eventually found her wandering around more slowly through different rooms. The Palace was the historic spot where we first got asked to have our pictures taken with Asian tourists! They were so thrilled to see us. They ran up to Kathy and me and pointed excitedly at their camera. They seemed a little surprised, but really happy, when I wanted a picture on my camera with them, too.
We went to this huge mall that is super upscale and maybe 6 floors tall. It has really nice stores that very few people in Vietnam would be able to afford. Few Americans could afford the high-end stores, with 24K gold iPod covers, etc. I just got the 14K one. (jokes) The one thing we did buy there was food. Mm so good. We got hot pot, where you get a bunch of food and cook it in broth on your table. They brought us all kinds of seafood and meat and veggies and then basically cooked it and served it to us because we had no idea what to do. A little embarrassing, but they seemed entertained, and we were well fed. The weirdest thing I ate there was clam. It tastes good, but it took me a good few minutes to actaully swallow it.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Eyeballs & Flesh
Saturday night, Katie fed us mangosteen, rambutan, and dragon eyes (different tropical fruits). They taste incredible, but they look kind of gross. We also discussed the potential perils associated with Alyce's speed-walking problem. I have never seen a person walk so fast in my life. I have no idea where it comes from, but absolutely no one can keep up with her. She also has a cute tendency to smile all the time, including when she talks about all of the things that could go wrong on this trip. Example: "We've never had someone step on an unexploded mine. Just don't go wandering into the jungle."
In the spirit of group bonding, we checked out some pictures of Juan-Pablo's engineering club and their race car. I admired the one girl in the photo. Juan-P: "But we didn't have any girls in our group..." I forgot he has long hair. Woops.
In the spirit of group bonding, we checked out some pictures of Juan-Pablo's engineering club and their race car. I admired the one girl in the photo. Juan-P: "But we didn't have any girls in our group..." I forgot he has long hair. Woops.
Since when do cockroaches fly?!
The first thing Lydia said to me Saturday morning was, "Oh, by the way, there's a cockroach in our bathroom." Turned out that wasn't the only bug sharing our room. I spotted another cockroach in a shopping bag I had in my carry-on. I reacted like any rational person would (threw the bag in the air so fast it hit the ceiling), and calmly removed the intruder (slowly dragged the bag outside the room with my foot while Lydia video-taped. We left the bag in the hall, near someone else's room). We found a few more cockroaches in our shower in the afternoon. Juan-Pablo has killed a few of them so far, and Joey killed half of one last night.
Alyce, our program director, gave us a tour of the city Saturday morning, and we stopped to have phở bò (fuh baw) for breakfast. It's a big bowl of rice noodles in broth with scallions, bean sprouts, and beef. It's delicious, and costs about $1.50.
During our tour, a policeman started following us for a block or so. His jacket said "Tourist Security" on it, but we're not too clear if that means they're protecting us from Vietnamese or Vietnamese from us.
We made our way to Chợ Bến Thành, which is an indoor market with everything imaginable, from pig tongues to suitcases. We had been in there for all of a minute when Devyn starts yelling "Alyce, wait!" Despite about an hour of Alyce's wandering around the market, we didn't find Xuan and Logan again until we got back to the guest house. While we were waiting for Alyce to find them, we ordered delicious smoothies with mysterious tropical fruits in them. Alyce's friend also met us there to interview us about why we came to Vietnam. Granted when the article comes out, we won't be able to read any of it, but it was fun talking with her.
Alyce, our program director, gave us a tour of the city Saturday morning, and we stopped to have phở bò (fuh baw) for breakfast. It's a big bowl of rice noodles in broth with scallions, bean sprouts, and beef. It's delicious, and costs about $1.50.
During our tour, a policeman started following us for a block or so. His jacket said "Tourist Security" on it, but we're not too clear if that means they're protecting us from Vietnamese or Vietnamese from us.
We made our way to Chợ Bến Thành, which is an indoor market with everything imaginable, from pig tongues to suitcases. We had been in there for all of a minute when Devyn starts yelling "Alyce, wait!" Despite about an hour of Alyce's wandering around the market, we didn't find Xuan and Logan again until we got back to the guest house. While we were waiting for Alyce to find them, we ordered delicious smoothies with mysterious tropical fruits in them. Alyce's friend also met us there to interview us about why we came to Vietnam. Granted when the article comes out, we won't be able to read any of it, but it was fun talking with her.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Welcome to Việt Nam
After more than 30 hours traveling, we got to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) late Friday. It was 12:30 am, and there were still people chilling on the streets, squatting on tiny chairs on the sidewalks near street vendors. I was really confused by all the people lying on their motorbikes on the sidewalk.
The adventures began immediately when we got to the guest house. I was halfway through my shower when the lights shut off. I can't believe such a large city has casual rolling blackouts, but that's what happened. Should be an interesting trip.
The adventures began immediately when we got to the guest house. I was halfway through my shower when the lights shut off. I can't believe such a large city has casual rolling blackouts, but that's what happened. Should be an interesting trip.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
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