Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Fruits of the Day
A pocket full of sticky notes (handwritten addresses for various computer stores) and four moto rides later, I have solved the problem of my charger pooping out and am back in action. I sit, at last, in my clever room, appreciating the breeze as the fan conducts its neck exercises (ri ight aand le ft)on the far wall. In fact, that feels great. (I pause for a few neck twists and a down dog.)
In addition to a functioning computer, I was blessed today with the opportunity to meet the very warm and friendly directors of an English program at a HCMC public school. Not knowing quite what to expect, I followed this lead at Hien's suggestion. Turns out that it's this beautiful open-air school with a tree filled courtyard and tables stacked with watermelon for the kids' midday snack. There are bright paintings on the walls and hallways - of Snow White and her Seven Dwarves and of elephants and other cute kiddy business. The job is, essentially, to lead a massive group of primary school children in a series of games for English review. The Vietnamese English teachers I observed did this quite masterfully with a striking hold of the students' attention. One coy teacher enticed her students into a guessing game in which she describes one of their classmates and the first astute guesser receives a lollipop. "This is a girl who is very pretty, has short curly hair, and studies English very well, but she is sometimes shy in my class." Or (haha): "This is a boy who I like a lot because no fighting, no interrupting in class. He studies okay, not good, but not bad, and he is, I think, a little fat." "Phuong! Phuong!" And that everlasting memory of childhood humiliation makes its debut. All said, I'm sure those kids loved the class. Another teacher put forth a game of tic tac toe, which totally absorbed the knee-highs. They were very sweet to me, as well, one boy in glasses following me out of the room to offer a humble little flower made from graph and purple origami paper.
The directors of the English language program, who greeted me and escorted me to the classrooms, were likewise, nothing short of heartwarming. Hung and his wife spoke English quite well, he, the main speaker, she, the precise interpreter, and seemed to offer me a job on the spot well as a home-cooked meal at their house this Sunday! We'll see how it goes. I'm headed there Sunday morning to try it out!
On the night time side of things, I've found the live music here! Yoko Bar, which I found one of the first nights out in Saigon, is the place to be, with a different band every night of the week. Lots of covers and some original material. Prettay fresh. Apparently, La Fenetre, a spot I'm peeping tonight, is comparably cool.
I plan, in my teaching, to evoke the great, avuncular Ho.
In addition to a functioning computer, I was blessed today with the opportunity to meet the very warm and friendly directors of an English program at a HCMC public school. Not knowing quite what to expect, I followed this lead at Hien's suggestion. Turns out that it's this beautiful open-air school with a tree filled courtyard and tables stacked with watermelon for the kids' midday snack. There are bright paintings on the walls and hallways - of Snow White and her Seven Dwarves and of elephants and other cute kiddy business. The job is, essentially, to lead a massive group of primary school children in a series of games for English review. The Vietnamese English teachers I observed did this quite masterfully with a striking hold of the students' attention. One coy teacher enticed her students into a guessing game in which she describes one of their classmates and the first astute guesser receives a lollipop. "This is a girl who is very pretty, has short curly hair, and studies English very well, but she is sometimes shy in my class." Or (haha): "This is a boy who I like a lot because no fighting, no interrupting in class. He studies okay, not good, but not bad, and he is, I think, a little fat." "Phuong! Phuong!" And that everlasting memory of childhood humiliation makes its debut. All said, I'm sure those kids loved the class. Another teacher put forth a game of tic tac toe, which totally absorbed the knee-highs. They were very sweet to me, as well, one boy in glasses following me out of the room to offer a humble little flower made from graph and purple origami paper.
The directors of the English language program, who greeted me and escorted me to the classrooms, were likewise, nothing short of heartwarming. Hung and his wife spoke English quite well, he, the main speaker, she, the precise interpreter, and seemed to offer me a job on the spot well as a home-cooked meal at their house this Sunday! We'll see how it goes. I'm headed there Sunday morning to try it out!
On the night time side of things, I've found the live music here! Yoko Bar, which I found one of the first nights out in Saigon, is the place to be, with a different band every night of the week. Lots of covers and some original material. Prettay fresh. Apparently, La Fenetre, a spot I'm peeping tonight, is comparably cool.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Condolences to the Colorblind
I should admit that, after very little contact with T.V., I've seen two cheesy movies in the past few days and nearly cried. Okay, I cried once. Anyone else find that traveling sort of packages what would probably be very average conversations / movies / meals / concerts as "E-PI-FUN-Y!" (a la "Surge")? It's like all we need for profundity to fizzle is that extra little shot of adrenaline that comes with the perpetual slight discomfort of displacement. Cheaper options include wearing close-hangers on your nostrils or wearing your belt too tight.
I won't tell you which movies (or what thoughts). One show involved a lingering ghost. And was not a classy new remake of Hamlet.
I realize I refer to myself as "traveler" rather than an "expat". This is to say, I am not working yet and so am not a stable resident, per se. It is also to say that Viet Nam still, reasonably, feels very novel to me.
One thing I notice here - and it seems to be a trend in warm climates - is the amount of color that's allowed here. It's beautiful, and it's energizing. Businesses and homes come in bright teal and celeste with gates in navy blue and lazy fuchsia flowers hanging off yellow balconies. People wear silly, pajama-worthy patterns and orange helmets and, yes, toe and finger nails won't go unpainted by any sister or cousin bored in the midday sun. It's fair to credit the fruit around here, the chum chums (little prickly pink balls with grape-like fruit within), mangos, jack fruit, dragon's eyes (these are actually brown and clear within, but cool and apt name) and all the other flamboyant eats I can't name.
But, just so you don't think I've gone soft for Asia or vice versa -- What you've heard is true: They eat dogs over here. Nora recently confirmed this suspicion when she was offered a live chiwawa "with rice and vegetables". Now, all of a sudden, like when you learn a new word and realize how just how common and important it is, there are dogs everywhere! Big dogs, little dogs; unhappy dogs, indifferent dogs; white dogs, spotty dogs; dogs that look too furry for this climate, dogs that have human-looking (pleading?) faces; dogs with red, just-been-crying eyes, dogs looking up at their (supposedly!) loving owners, dogs, letting their eyes rest from the day, in certain trust of their human parents. Every pup evokes my suspicion. And it's well-founded: a woman grills a spit of kabobs a yard away. They call it "thit cho". Pronounced tit chaw.
I would only eat a dog in self-defense. Or if it told everyone I had halitosis.
But have been eating meat. Where do we draw the lines, oh lord. where do we draw the lines. a lion a tiger a bear oh my a lion a tiger a bear.
I won't tell you which movies (or what thoughts). One show involved a lingering ghost. And was not a classy new remake of Hamlet.
I realize I refer to myself as "traveler" rather than an "expat". This is to say, I am not working yet and so am not a stable resident, per se. It is also to say that Viet Nam still, reasonably, feels very novel to me.
One thing I notice here - and it seems to be a trend in warm climates - is the amount of color that's allowed here. It's beautiful, and it's energizing. Businesses and homes come in bright teal and celeste with gates in navy blue and lazy fuchsia flowers hanging off yellow balconies. People wear silly, pajama-worthy patterns and orange helmets and, yes, toe and finger nails won't go unpainted by any sister or cousin bored in the midday sun. It's fair to credit the fruit around here, the chum chums (little prickly pink balls with grape-like fruit within), mangos, jack fruit, dragon's eyes (these are actually brown and clear within, but cool and apt name) and all the other flamboyant eats I can't name.
But, just so you don't think I've gone soft for Asia or vice versa -- What you've heard is true: They eat dogs over here. Nora recently confirmed this suspicion when she was offered a live chiwawa "with rice and vegetables". Now, all of a sudden, like when you learn a new word and realize how just how common and important it is, there are dogs everywhere! Big dogs, little dogs; unhappy dogs, indifferent dogs; white dogs, spotty dogs; dogs that look too furry for this climate, dogs that have human-looking (pleading?) faces; dogs with red, just-been-crying eyes, dogs looking up at their (supposedly!) loving owners, dogs, letting their eyes rest from the day, in certain trust of their human parents. Every pup evokes my suspicion. And it's well-founded: a woman grills a spit of kabobs a yard away. They call it "thit cho". Pronounced tit chaw.
I would only eat a dog in self-defense. Or if it told everyone I had halitosis.
But have been eating meat. Where do we draw the lines, oh lord. where do we draw the lines. a lion a tiger a bear oh my a lion a tiger a bear.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Home Sweet Ho
I have just landed an apartment in a small building full of teachers of English, one of them, my friend, Nora, from Language Corps and one, Jerome, a Parisian who's been teaching in Saigon for nearly a year.
After a little dusting, rearranging and flower purchasing, I'm quite happy with my new room, which is sunny by day and which offers several lighting options by night (an unexpected and much appreciated feature!). It comes equipped with A.C., a fine dresser & bed, cable T.V., fridge and wireless int, while a thin door in the corner offers a petite balcony (one more suggestion that I give in to a smoking habit), which looks into a backyard of neighbors' balconies, branching from an array of colorful apartment buildings (peach, blue, yellow) much like my own. There's also a communal balcony / hang out a floor up, where Nora and I shared an apartment-christening drink.
Before that, we had the opportunity to dine with two lovely Vietnamese ladies, Van and Lai, whom Nora had met in the countryside. Van, whose English was limited and adorable, took us out for Banh trang (essentially, do-it-yourself spring rolls) and pointed out the names of all table items as we used them. The word for sprouts sounds like "yeah";"cucumber" was "you-uh". Progress.
Job interview next week. Hope to have them saying "yeah, you-uh". heh.
After a little dusting, rearranging and flower purchasing, I'm quite happy with my new room, which is sunny by day and which offers several lighting options by night (an unexpected and much appreciated feature!). It comes equipped with A.C., a fine dresser & bed, cable T.V., fridge and wireless int, while a thin door in the corner offers a petite balcony (one more suggestion that I give in to a smoking habit), which looks into a backyard of neighbors' balconies, branching from an array of colorful apartment buildings (peach, blue, yellow) much like my own. There's also a communal balcony / hang out a floor up, where Nora and I shared an apartment-christening drink.
Before that, we had the opportunity to dine with two lovely Vietnamese ladies, Van and Lai, whom Nora had met in the countryside. Van, whose English was limited and adorable, took us out for Banh trang (essentially, do-it-yourself spring rolls) and pointed out the names of all table items as we used them. The word for sprouts sounds like "yeah";"cucumber" was "you-uh". Progress.
Job interview next week. Hope to have them saying "yeah, you-uh". heh.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Well, this is hopeful, indeed.
Just to keep up the habit, I blog again, after a mere 15 hour hiatus. I just received my first email of interest from Clever Learn Language School and have confirmed an interview this Tuesday. Looks are everything, so we're told, here in Asia, so I'll try to look very nerdy, serious and mature. Maybe I'll get a pair of faux glasses.
In fact, I think glasses serve the purpose, in addition to convincing others of one's high intelligence, of making the wearer her/himself feel smarter. This could mean, by way of the psychological support glasses provide, people with glasses really are smarter. This coupled with the fact that (and this is a long held theory of mine) glasses-wearers are formerly child readers, who squinted and strained in those formative years while their eyes were not yet ready for such heavy use. Meanwhile, their young brains feasted and fathomed and, hence, made quicker adult minds, despite the eyes' suffering.
But does reading make us the smarter? And, more importantly, does the smarter make the better? I'll tell you what: we all feel pretty far from smart in our Vietnamese class, in which we have a test. I'll try the glasses.
Tonight, MSTRKRFT plays at a bar called Lush. I'm curious to check it out, especially with a cover of what would be $5 in the states. Another post for that.
In fact, I think glasses serve the purpose, in addition to convincing others of one's high intelligence, of making the wearer her/himself feel smarter. This could mean, by way of the psychological support glasses provide, people with glasses really are smarter. This coupled with the fact that (and this is a long held theory of mine) glasses-wearers are formerly child readers, who squinted and strained in those formative years while their eyes were not yet ready for such heavy use. Meanwhile, their young brains feasted and fathomed and, hence, made quicker adult minds, despite the eyes' suffering.
But does reading make us the smarter? And, more importantly, does the smarter make the better? I'll tell you what: we all feel pretty far from smart in our Vietnamese class, in which we have a test. I'll try the glasses.
Tonight, MSTRKRFT plays at a bar called Lush. I'm curious to check it out, especially with a cover of what would be $5 in the states. Another post for that.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sing Song Saigon
Having just viewed the blog of a previous Language Corps success story, a guy who, in addition to writing a substantial, vivid & tickling blog, won himself a killer lifestyle (teaching and writing) and stunning wife in the city of Hanoi, I realize I have to step it up. So, as of now, I commit myself to writing at least every few days here on "The Free Fall, S.E. Asia".
I'll begin with tonight's festivities: joining a few friends for a surprise birthday party at a Karaoke club. I think I may have done this once before... or dreamt of it. But Asian style Karaoke involves renting something of a hotel room (couch in place of bed) for a guest of honor and a pile of friends. Then, you order drinks & food and sing your little hearts out. It's somewhat masturbatory, in the way all karaoke is, but something about getting the private room kicks it up a notch. I once had a childhood friend who confessed she routinely locked herself in the bathroom to consume a combination of mayo and butter. In this case, it was Gaga and MJ - and every now and then either an authentic Vietnamese pop song (we foreigners picked out the new words we'd learned... "how!" ..."want!"..."one!") or a legible but totally unrecognizable Euro-star hit with, say, two girls rolling around in the snow with wolves.
All said, it was a great time and thanks go out to my generous friend Chau, whom I met through the Singaporian Indian girl (self-identified during Language Corps'"name game"), Shanta, and Chau's gracious and newly 31 year old husband, Khanh. Chau and Khanh dropped me off via motorbike, and, hair flying in the wind, mouth spread in dog-out-the-window smile, I vowed myself to possess such a contraption one day. The weather here at night, I must say, is something to be revered.
Other tales and goings on for which I should account include 1. Hien and Linh, the angels of Language Corps Vietnam 2. learning Vietnamese Part 1 3. Holly and Pat, two inspiring retired divas 4. Vietnamese music scene and 5. my current dilemma: staying south or nosing north.
Hien is the organizer here. She is a petite lady, always perfectly dressed - with a smile - and always keen to don others with that same sunny disposition. She lives and breathes the job. No, I mean, she actually lives at the office. (I am also staying there this week in a converted classroom.) But, also, I mean that she loves the job because it gives her the opportunity to keep tuning her English. Which is already very good. We've had many a nice chat, albeit in English, but eventually, we'll heart to heart in Vietnamese (I hope!). Tonight, she taught me say-ow (I'm not sure yet how this is spelled; that's how it sounds.) It means motorbike driver, but, literally, "ow" -- or is it "euh"? -- means "hug," that is, in the sense that a passenger must hug the moto driver to stay safely aboard. Cute, huh. Hien received flowers last night, Valentine's Day, from a long-time friend who she can tell anything. When I sing at her wedding, I'm counting on it being in Vietnamese.
That said, as we learned from Linh, the L.C. Vietnamese teacher, because of the importance of tone in determining word meaning, song lyrics are only gleaned by the deft and anticipating ear. Context is everything in a world where "ma" can mean 5 different things depending on inflection. Linh is a sophisticated "chi" (lady not much older than me) and a good and encouraging teacher. She's constantly sending us out to inquire of people on the street about names and origins and prices for wares. It's beautifully embarrassing, as they correct our three word sentences with a rollercoaster of tones and giggle gently at our misfires. Linh has long hair that she curls nicely. The perfect teacher.
The class consists of me, Jefferson, a mid-twenties wilderness trip expert, meta-physicist and once time-insurance salesman, Nora, a law-school bound sweetheart with an aim to do good, and Holly, a middle-aged retiree uprooted from Texas, twice married and now on to live out adventures in the beloved Far East of her school-age years. I've come to appreciate richly the company of each of my fellow wanderers / aspiring teachers, and I am impressed with each of them in different ways. I am particularly uplifted by Holly's ability in late middle age to carry herself up and away into a new life. It gives me a sense of unending possibility and endless human energy, should one choose to use it.
Holly and I met her friend, Pat, the other night for a few unfortunately insipid tapas. While we should have known better than to opt for Spanish in an ocean of delicious pho, it was quite a pleasant evening and it was a pleasure to chat with Pat, an 80 year old who's in Vietnam to volunteer at an orphanage. What's the secret to staying so healthy and vivacious? #1 Keep moving. Pat volunteers at a hospital and walks nearly 2 miles, all told, each day. She's long single - and happy that way - though, grants, if Mr. Perfect were to walk into her, she wouldn't protest romance. She also reads her fair share of Vampire novels. #2 Keep fantasy alive.
On that note, thanks to my karaoke performances in S.E. Asia, Holly and others have encouraged me to pursue some singing opportunities here in Ho Chi Minh. I must say I would love to get in on the music scene. What strikes me - both as an amateur anthropologist and as an artistic opportunist - is the fact that most hip bands here seem to sing in English. Last week, a few of us toured Yoko Bar (think Brooklyn chic meets Ikea) to see one of Hien's favorite band play. The place was clearly an insider's spot and we felt privileged to be there. & The band itself was very well composed, tight, and fun. Great vocals, on point musicians. The material: all 60's - 80's American rock. I postpone greater thoughts on this for the moment. Fun? Yes, sure. Disturbing? A tad, yes.
Anyhow, I got a hand shake from the drummer and lead singer (always an impressive combination of duties) and got to thinking maybe Saigon is the place for me, rather than her northern cousin, Hanoi. My great dilemma: Lakes galore, certain beauty and another new adventure v. people I know and like, southern weather, and a flavorful night life. I've got to decide soon whether to snap up an apartment nearby or to take the trip.
But this is to put the horse before the cart. Or maybe it's to count eggs before they've hatched. Or maybe, better said, it is to sew the wedding dress before finding a love. Because, mind you, I haven't landed a job yet in either city. Off to cross fingers, stalk email and warble some more Vietnamese!
I'll begin with tonight's festivities: joining a few friends for a surprise birthday party at a Karaoke club. I think I may have done this once before... or dreamt of it. But Asian style Karaoke involves renting something of a hotel room (couch in place of bed) for a guest of honor and a pile of friends. Then, you order drinks & food and sing your little hearts out. It's somewhat masturbatory, in the way all karaoke is, but something about getting the private room kicks it up a notch. I once had a childhood friend who confessed she routinely locked herself in the bathroom to consume a combination of mayo and butter. In this case, it was Gaga and MJ - and every now and then either an authentic Vietnamese pop song (we foreigners picked out the new words we'd learned... "how!" ..."want!"..."one!") or a legible but totally unrecognizable Euro-star hit with, say, two girls rolling around in the snow with wolves.
All said, it was a great time and thanks go out to my generous friend Chau, whom I met through the Singaporian Indian girl (self-identified during Language Corps'"name game"), Shanta, and Chau's gracious and newly 31 year old husband, Khanh. Chau and Khanh dropped me off via motorbike, and, hair flying in the wind, mouth spread in dog-out-the-window smile, I vowed myself to possess such a contraption one day. The weather here at night, I must say, is something to be revered.
Other tales and goings on for which I should account include 1. Hien and Linh, the angels of Language Corps Vietnam 2. learning Vietnamese Part 1 3. Holly and Pat, two inspiring retired divas 4. Vietnamese music scene and 5. my current dilemma: staying south or nosing north.
Hien is the organizer here. She is a petite lady, always perfectly dressed - with a smile - and always keen to don others with that same sunny disposition. She lives and breathes the job. No, I mean, she actually lives at the office. (I am also staying there this week in a converted classroom.) But, also, I mean that she loves the job because it gives her the opportunity to keep tuning her English. Which is already very good. We've had many a nice chat, albeit in English, but eventually, we'll heart to heart in Vietnamese (I hope!). Tonight, she taught me say-ow (I'm not sure yet how this is spelled; that's how it sounds.) It means motorbike driver, but, literally, "ow" -- or is it "euh"? -- means "hug," that is, in the sense that a passenger must hug the moto driver to stay safely aboard. Cute, huh. Hien received flowers last night, Valentine's Day, from a long-time friend who she can tell anything. When I sing at her wedding, I'm counting on it being in Vietnamese.
That said, as we learned from Linh, the L.C. Vietnamese teacher, because of the importance of tone in determining word meaning, song lyrics are only gleaned by the deft and anticipating ear. Context is everything in a world where "ma" can mean 5 different things depending on inflection. Linh is a sophisticated "chi" (lady not much older than me) and a good and encouraging teacher. She's constantly sending us out to inquire of people on the street about names and origins and prices for wares. It's beautifully embarrassing, as they correct our three word sentences with a rollercoaster of tones and giggle gently at our misfires. Linh has long hair that she curls nicely. The perfect teacher.
The class consists of me, Jefferson, a mid-twenties wilderness trip expert, meta-physicist and once time-insurance salesman, Nora, a law-school bound sweetheart with an aim to do good, and Holly, a middle-aged retiree uprooted from Texas, twice married and now on to live out adventures in the beloved Far East of her school-age years. I've come to appreciate richly the company of each of my fellow wanderers / aspiring teachers, and I am impressed with each of them in different ways. I am particularly uplifted by Holly's ability in late middle age to carry herself up and away into a new life. It gives me a sense of unending possibility and endless human energy, should one choose to use it.
Holly and I met her friend, Pat, the other night for a few unfortunately insipid tapas. While we should have known better than to opt for Spanish in an ocean of delicious pho, it was quite a pleasant evening and it was a pleasure to chat with Pat, an 80 year old who's in Vietnam to volunteer at an orphanage. What's the secret to staying so healthy and vivacious? #1 Keep moving. Pat volunteers at a hospital and walks nearly 2 miles, all told, each day. She's long single - and happy that way - though, grants, if Mr. Perfect were to walk into her, she wouldn't protest romance. She also reads her fair share of Vampire novels. #2 Keep fantasy alive.
On that note, thanks to my karaoke performances in S.E. Asia, Holly and others have encouraged me to pursue some singing opportunities here in Ho Chi Minh. I must say I would love to get in on the music scene. What strikes me - both as an amateur anthropologist and as an artistic opportunist - is the fact that most hip bands here seem to sing in English. Last week, a few of us toured Yoko Bar (think Brooklyn chic meets Ikea) to see one of Hien's favorite band play. The place was clearly an insider's spot and we felt privileged to be there. & The band itself was very well composed, tight, and fun. Great vocals, on point musicians. The material: all 60's - 80's American rock. I postpone greater thoughts on this for the moment. Fun? Yes, sure. Disturbing? A tad, yes.
Anyhow, I got a hand shake from the drummer and lead singer (always an impressive combination of duties) and got to thinking maybe Saigon is the place for me, rather than her northern cousin, Hanoi. My great dilemma: Lakes galore, certain beauty and another new adventure v. people I know and like, southern weather, and a flavorful night life. I've got to decide soon whether to snap up an apartment nearby or to take the trip.
But this is to put the horse before the cart. Or maybe it's to count eggs before they've hatched. Or maybe, better said, it is to sew the wedding dress before finding a love. Because, mind you, I haven't landed a job yet in either city. Off to cross fingers, stalk email and warble some more Vietnamese!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
First few days in Ho Chi Minh
It's been a few days since setting foot in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam after six hours of karaoke music video (thankfully, muted) aboard a bus from Cambodia. The border stop was pretty painless, though, as the organizer herded us along ("hurry up"), I sniffed a cultural shift from the Khmer people's Bob Marley-esque approach to surmounting life's tragedy to something a little more go-getter. And, indeed, these are a willful people, their historians will have you know.
A trip to the War Remnants Museum not only condemns the U.S. for the atrocities it pictures but offers a wry smile in the face of the dummies that believed they could defeat a people who have proven themselves so many times against opponents, the Chinese, Mongols and French among them. Despite the pride and resilience of the people, the wrong done here stings. The most disturbing of all exhibits here was the one which documented the effects of Agent Orange on war survivors - and their children. The chemical led to countless stillborn babies and many more children who would see their limbs shrivel to nubs within the first two years of their lives. A tragic legacy of disfigurement.
On a brighter note, now Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, is nothing short of thriving. Arriving on the tail end of Tet, the New year celebration, I saw the city in its last days of holiday decor: yellow flowers, often in hanging balls of string lights, and red banners / lanterns. As in Cambodia, motorbikes are everywhere. It's true, here, drivers will obey a few traffic lights (unheard of in Phnom Penh), but that's not to say that sidewalks are off-limits in times of heavy traffic nor that crossing the street isn't still akin, for us newcomers, to cliff-jumping. The market here (Ben Thanh) is a mecca of smelly, tasty treats, including jerky galore, jackfruit, pho, nuts and coffee. You can also find a plethora of clothes and cloth for clothing, electronic equipment, save-yourself-from-pollution (previously SARS) masks, and many other must haves. For the heavier of pocket, there are designer stores and sky-scraping hotels a stone's throw away. Burberry. Armani.
The people I've actually had the chance to chat with are bright-eyed, energetic and kind. Upon recognizing me as an English speaker, one man in the market struck up a chat to try out his English. His brother's in Houston (This took a long time for me to decipher with his accent. The difficulty interpreting accents, he says, is a particularly American one.) and his niece sends him U.S. driver's license information and exams to test his reading comprehension. He wondered about the difference between expressways and highways and what it meant "to pig out." If I stay in Ho Chi Minh, rather than going to Hanoi, we may meet up and exchange help learning each other's language.
Other very warm Vietnamese include my hotel receptionists and the organizer from Language Corps, Hien, a beautiful, chic young woman, who met me and a few other teachers for lunch today. Hien encourages me to stay in her city. Upon her request, a few of us are headed to see a band tonight out in District 4. There doesn't seem to be a lot of live theatre, according to Hien, but there is definitely a great deal of live music.
Further highlights of my time here so far include a fun, touristy trip to the Mekong delta, on which a woman rowed me and a few others through a narrow canopy-covered channel to a small coconut candy factory, where we all stuffed ourselves with the rich treats, banana wine and honey tea. We got to ride bicycles (mine was from the stone age), hold a python, and hear locals sing a few traditional songs about love.
Within the city, it's been fun walking around sidewalks, often filled with people eating pho at tiny little plastic tables with stools that look best fit for toddlers. I suppose the stools are easy to stack, must be cheap and are sufficient for the lean ladies and gents of Vietnam. I've chosen on more than one occasion to take my big American frame to a western style chair at the riverside. Great view, great coffee, and an opportunity to read my book - about the country and why corruption is the inevitable child of rigid ideological systems - in peace, amid the whine of muzak remakes of The White Album.
Vietnamese language classes begin tomorrow. Until then, I'll try and get some pictures uploaded.
A trip to the War Remnants Museum not only condemns the U.S. for the atrocities it pictures but offers a wry smile in the face of the dummies that believed they could defeat a people who have proven themselves so many times against opponents, the Chinese, Mongols and French among them. Despite the pride and resilience of the people, the wrong done here stings. The most disturbing of all exhibits here was the one which documented the effects of Agent Orange on war survivors - and their children. The chemical led to countless stillborn babies and many more children who would see their limbs shrivel to nubs within the first two years of their lives. A tragic legacy of disfigurement.
On a brighter note, now Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, is nothing short of thriving. Arriving on the tail end of Tet, the New year celebration, I saw the city in its last days of holiday decor: yellow flowers, often in hanging balls of string lights, and red banners / lanterns. As in Cambodia, motorbikes are everywhere. It's true, here, drivers will obey a few traffic lights (unheard of in Phnom Penh), but that's not to say that sidewalks are off-limits in times of heavy traffic nor that crossing the street isn't still akin, for us newcomers, to cliff-jumping. The market here (Ben Thanh) is a mecca of smelly, tasty treats, including jerky galore, jackfruit, pho, nuts and coffee. You can also find a plethora of clothes and cloth for clothing, electronic equipment, save-yourself-from-pollution (previously SARS) masks, and many other must haves. For the heavier of pocket, there are designer stores and sky-scraping hotels a stone's throw away. Burberry. Armani.
The people I've actually had the chance to chat with are bright-eyed, energetic and kind. Upon recognizing me as an English speaker, one man in the market struck up a chat to try out his English. His brother's in Houston (This took a long time for me to decipher with his accent. The difficulty interpreting accents, he says, is a particularly American one.) and his niece sends him U.S. driver's license information and exams to test his reading comprehension. He wondered about the difference between expressways and highways and what it meant "to pig out." If I stay in Ho Chi Minh, rather than going to Hanoi, we may meet up and exchange help learning each other's language.
Other very warm Vietnamese include my hotel receptionists and the organizer from Language Corps, Hien, a beautiful, chic young woman, who met me and a few other teachers for lunch today. Hien encourages me to stay in her city. Upon her request, a few of us are headed to see a band tonight out in District 4. There doesn't seem to be a lot of live theatre, according to Hien, but there is definitely a great deal of live music.
Further highlights of my time here so far include a fun, touristy trip to the Mekong delta, on which a woman rowed me and a few others through a narrow canopy-covered channel to a small coconut candy factory, where we all stuffed ourselves with the rich treats, banana wine and honey tea. We got to ride bicycles (mine was from the stone age), hold a python, and hear locals sing a few traditional songs about love.
Within the city, it's been fun walking around sidewalks, often filled with people eating pho at tiny little plastic tables with stools that look best fit for toddlers. I suppose the stools are easy to stack, must be cheap and are sufficient for the lean ladies and gents of Vietnam. I've chosen on more than one occasion to take my big American frame to a western style chair at the riverside. Great view, great coffee, and an opportunity to read my book - about the country and why corruption is the inevitable child of rigid ideological systems - in peace, amid the whine of muzak remakes of The White Album.
Vietnamese language classes begin tomorrow. Until then, I'll try and get some pictures uploaded.
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