A Vietnamese Cross Cultural site describes the Asian concept of face as "a quality that reflects a person's reputation, dignity, and prestige." It goes on to say that, "It is possible to lose face, save face or give face to another person" and that "silence is common where someone disagrees with another but remains quiet so as to not cause a loss of face." Foreigners are cautioned not to exhibit great displays of emotion in public because this could cause you to lose face or cause the person you are yelling at to lose face. But apparently face isn't as important to all Vietnamese people as the sites/tour books would like you to think, as evidenced by my bus driver, who, after stopping short and throwing everyone in the bus into the seat in front of them, ran out of the bus and began screaming at the guy on the motorbike apparently responsible for the short stop. Nor was it that important to the guy on the motorbike, who, in-between bouts of yett back, appeared ready to get off and pound the his fists into the driver's face. Nor was it such a face-losing event that the bus passengers had to turn their heads in shame - they were all standing in the isle, craing their necks for a better view, in rapt attention.
I have been impressed with the seemingly impentrable veneer of patience of Vietnamese drivers on the roads in Ho Chi Minh, but it is always interesting to witness a crack in the cultural norms.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Just call me Mrs. Sharon
I had my first private tutoring session today and I have to say that I am quite proud of myself. I never thought I would enjoy teaching English, but one-on-one it can be more than just teaching English, it can be a cultural exchange and an opportunity to be creative through lesson planning.
My student is another volunteer from SCC, who I offered to take on for a much reduced rate because she is also a volunteer and couldn't afford my exorbitant rates. She asked if we could meet one day a week, for two hours and our first lesson took place today.
To prepare for the lesson, I wrote up a basic assessment including a section for writing, reading/comprehension, listening comprehension and conversation and made a list of seven main components of my ESL lessons: 1. Speaking, 2. Reading Comprehension, 3. Listening Comprehension, 4. Writing, 5. Grammar, 6. Pronunciation, 7. Vocabulary. I then wrote up a basic outline, time-wise, of a two hour session. For the Listening and Reading Comprehension, I printed out two articles from the BBC online news, one on a woman's fight for her right to wear a headscarf, hijab, in her position as a television anchor in Egypt and another on the conflict between Thailand and Cambodia over the land surrounding a temple recently awarding the designation of a World Heritage Site.
I began the lesson by asking her to write a paragraph entitled, "All about me," to learn more about her and to gauge her writing ability. Then we spent about 45 minutes practicing conversation skills, aka talking, with each of us talking about our families and our hobbies and places we've visited. After a 5 minute break, I read her the article about the Egyptian woman and she was able to follow it and was curious about why them woman would choose to wear a hijab. Then she read the article about Cambodia to me and underlined the words she did not understand. We read through it again and I explained the definition of each word. Finally I gave her a homework assignment and asked her what she thought of our first session. She responded that she had enjoyed every part of it and it was the best English lesson she had ever had. And she seemed to genuinely mean it. I was thrilled and thanked her and told her that I was glad she had enjoyed the lesson and that I looked forward to tailoring future lessons to her interests and language learning goals/needs.
It was a really neat process and I was amazed at how well it went. Through the readings, I will be able to bring up different topics and talk about how they relate to Vietnam - like today when we talked about women's rights in Vietnam after the article about the Egyptian women and she said that in more urban areas there is relative equality, but there is still a big preference for male children in more rural areas, because women leave their family's home to live with their husbands family and son's stay behind to care for their parents. Or so it goes in theory, according to my new student. She said that she often hears of daughters still doing more to care for their own parents, even from then home of their in-laws, than the son that lives in their home. She told me the story of a neighboring family in which the father is desperate for a son and so his wife has had five baby girls in quick succession over the past five years. She says that she doesn't understand why the father is so desperate for a son and why the woman puts up with him. We talked about the power of learning, both in the sense of early indoctrination of certain ideas by parents and the larger society as well as the freeing nature of a broader education from certain ingrained beliefs.
When I had her read the article on Thailand and Cambodia, we talked through certain vocabulary words and in assessing her pronunciation, we discovered some specific trouble spots to focus on in the future.
All in all, it was an extremely enjoyable experience. I may not be making much money, but I am learning through the process, not only about how to teach English, but about Vietnamese culture and my fellow volunteer. I am looking forward to tailoring the lessons to different topics of interest to my student and in seeking out interesting readings and pertinent vocabulary lessons. Now I just have to break into the next income bracket...
My student is another volunteer from SCC, who I offered to take on for a much reduced rate because she is also a volunteer and couldn't afford my exorbitant rates. She asked if we could meet one day a week, for two hours and our first lesson took place today.
To prepare for the lesson, I wrote up a basic assessment including a section for writing, reading/comprehension, listening comprehension and conversation and made a list of seven main components of my ESL lessons: 1. Speaking, 2. Reading Comprehension, 3. Listening Comprehension, 4. Writing, 5. Grammar, 6. Pronunciation, 7. Vocabulary. I then wrote up a basic outline, time-wise, of a two hour session. For the Listening and Reading Comprehension, I printed out two articles from the BBC online news, one on a woman's fight for her right to wear a headscarf, hijab, in her position as a television anchor in Egypt and another on the conflict between Thailand and Cambodia over the land surrounding a temple recently awarding the designation of a World Heritage Site.
I began the lesson by asking her to write a paragraph entitled, "All about me," to learn more about her and to gauge her writing ability. Then we spent about 45 minutes practicing conversation skills, aka talking, with each of us talking about our families and our hobbies and places we've visited. After a 5 minute break, I read her the article about the Egyptian woman and she was able to follow it and was curious about why them woman would choose to wear a hijab. Then she read the article about Cambodia to me and underlined the words she did not understand. We read through it again and I explained the definition of each word. Finally I gave her a homework assignment and asked her what she thought of our first session. She responded that she had enjoyed every part of it and it was the best English lesson she had ever had. And she seemed to genuinely mean it. I was thrilled and thanked her and told her that I was glad she had enjoyed the lesson and that I looked forward to tailoring future lessons to her interests and language learning goals/needs.
It was a really neat process and I was amazed at how well it went. Through the readings, I will be able to bring up different topics and talk about how they relate to Vietnam - like today when we talked about women's rights in Vietnam after the article about the Egyptian women and she said that in more urban areas there is relative equality, but there is still a big preference for male children in more rural areas, because women leave their family's home to live with their husbands family and son's stay behind to care for their parents. Or so it goes in theory, according to my new student. She said that she often hears of daughters still doing more to care for their own parents, even from then home of their in-laws, than the son that lives in their home. She told me the story of a neighboring family in which the father is desperate for a son and so his wife has had five baby girls in quick succession over the past five years. She says that she doesn't understand why the father is so desperate for a son and why the woman puts up with him. We talked about the power of learning, both in the sense of early indoctrination of certain ideas by parents and the larger society as well as the freeing nature of a broader education from certain ingrained beliefs.
When I had her read the article on Thailand and Cambodia, we talked through certain vocabulary words and in assessing her pronunciation, we discovered some specific trouble spots to focus on in the future.
All in all, it was an extremely enjoyable experience. I may not be making much money, but I am learning through the process, not only about how to teach English, but about Vietnamese culture and my fellow volunteer. I am looking forward to tailoring the lessons to different topics of interest to my student and in seeking out interesting readings and pertinent vocabulary lessons. Now I just have to break into the next income bracket...
Thursday, November 13, 2008
An Old Dog Looks for a Job
We have been in Vietnam for almost three months now and it seems like so much longer. We have found more things that we like about Vietnam than we miss about home, found enjoyment in living alone as a married couple and found that we work well together, providing the support the other needs to deal with the stresses, though few, of living abroad.
While Steven has gotten up, put on his tie and hopped on the back of his xe om to school each day, I have spent the last ten weeks trying to figure out my own routine. Looking back, I realized that I could have been a little more successful had I known then, what I know now, and I still don't quite know much, nor do I know what, if anything, that knowledge will actually bring.
I began my job search the American way, looking online, sending my CV and cover letter and waiting for a response. I was determined to stay in my field and to work in an NGO and applied only for positions for which I was qualified. I had an interview, waited a week, had a second interview, waited another week, then nothing. I had another job offer, but the offer was rescinded because the creation of the position might hurt someone's feelings. I combed through numerous of job adverts only to get to the bottom requirement: "Vietnamese Nationals Only."
Finally, I gave up my idea of paid work in an NGO and gave in to the chorus of advice givers who responded to my stories of a fruitless search with the damning reply, "You can always teach English."
I made up a basic flier, for those with little English skill and walked from building to building asking receptionists to pass them around. I made a second flier, a little more complex, and put it on restaurant bulletin boards. I made a third, truly professional flier and sent it to Steven's co-workers asking them to recommend me to anyone they met who asked about private ESL lessons. I had week long back and forth email conversations with head hunters; failed teaching demos to two-year olds.
Finally, 10 weeks into the job search, I took my newly professional flier to a meeting of the International Ladies of Vietnam, mostly made up of ladies living off of their husbands generous salaries, living in gated, high-rise, luxury serviced apartments, with neighbors who can afford to pay me $20 an hour to improve their English skills. I went around from table to table, putting on my friendliest face and introduced myself, handing out my flier and asking them if they would put it up in their buildings and/or hand it over to anyone they knew interested in private lessons. I received a copy of a newsletter with a mailing list for all of the residents of the heavily ex-pat An Phu neighborhood and was advised to send my flier out to the list. A few people even said that they knew someone who would be interested as they reached for my flier.
For my sense of good work, I've been volunteering with a local nonprofit organization, Saigon Children's Charity. It is a wonderful organization that works to break the cycle of poverty among Vietnam's poorest families by building schools in rural villages, providing scholarships for books, uniforms, food, bikes, etc. to help children who wouldn't otherwise be able to go to school, as well as providing vocational training to older students with little education to help them find sustainable jobs and micro-loans to families to help them to become self-sustaining. I help with upcoming fund raising projects and editing of English language documents and enjoy getting to know the primarily Vietnamese staff.
So now I know. The key is to network and to network early. To tamp down your expectations of combining enjoyable work with paid work. To get early into volunteering. To get your name out everywhere. To forget everything you learned about successful job hunting in your previous life.
If this is the recipe for success, I have yet to learn, but I have learned that I am not in the American job market anymore and navigating the Vietnamese job market takes a whole new set of tricks.
Now I just need to learn how to teach English...
While Steven has gotten up, put on his tie and hopped on the back of his xe om to school each day, I have spent the last ten weeks trying to figure out my own routine. Looking back, I realized that I could have been a little more successful had I known then, what I know now, and I still don't quite know much, nor do I know what, if anything, that knowledge will actually bring.
I began my job search the American way, looking online, sending my CV and cover letter and waiting for a response. I was determined to stay in my field and to work in an NGO and applied only for positions for which I was qualified. I had an interview, waited a week, had a second interview, waited another week, then nothing. I had another job offer, but the offer was rescinded because the creation of the position might hurt someone's feelings. I combed through numerous of job adverts only to get to the bottom requirement: "Vietnamese Nationals Only."
Finally, I gave up my idea of paid work in an NGO and gave in to the chorus of advice givers who responded to my stories of a fruitless search with the damning reply, "You can always teach English."
I made up a basic flier, for those with little English skill and walked from building to building asking receptionists to pass them around. I made a second flier, a little more complex, and put it on restaurant bulletin boards. I made a third, truly professional flier and sent it to Steven's co-workers asking them to recommend me to anyone they met who asked about private ESL lessons. I had week long back and forth email conversations with head hunters; failed teaching demos to two-year olds.
Finally, 10 weeks into the job search, I took my newly professional flier to a meeting of the International Ladies of Vietnam, mostly made up of ladies living off of their husbands generous salaries, living in gated, high-rise, luxury serviced apartments, with neighbors who can afford to pay me $20 an hour to improve their English skills. I went around from table to table, putting on my friendliest face and introduced myself, handing out my flier and asking them if they would put it up in their buildings and/or hand it over to anyone they knew interested in private lessons. I received a copy of a newsletter with a mailing list for all of the residents of the heavily ex-pat An Phu neighborhood and was advised to send my flier out to the list. A few people even said that they knew someone who would be interested as they reached for my flier.
For my sense of good work, I've been volunteering with a local nonprofit organization, Saigon Children's Charity. It is a wonderful organization that works to break the cycle of poverty among Vietnam's poorest families by building schools in rural villages, providing scholarships for books, uniforms, food, bikes, etc. to help children who wouldn't otherwise be able to go to school, as well as providing vocational training to older students with little education to help them find sustainable jobs and micro-loans to families to help them to become self-sustaining. I help with upcoming fund raising projects and editing of English language documents and enjoy getting to know the primarily Vietnamese staff.
So now I know. The key is to network and to network early. To tamp down your expectations of combining enjoyable work with paid work. To get early into volunteering. To get your name out everywhere. To forget everything you learned about successful job hunting in your previous life.
If this is the recipe for success, I have yet to learn, but I have learned that I am not in the American job market anymore and navigating the Vietnamese job market takes a whole new set of tricks.
Now I just need to learn how to teach English...
Toi tich hop thieng Viet
Steven and I are into our second month of Vietnamese lessons and I am finding them quite enjoyable, while Steven finds them a little frustrating after a long day of teaching. One thing we both agree on is how much we enjoy our Vietnamese teacher, Phuc (pronounced Phah-uh).
Phuc is an absolute character. She has the greatest smile, which seems to cover her whole face when she laughs. She is a very serious teacher and likes to smack Steven on the knee when he pronounces something incorrectly, which is more often than she'd like. She is always laughing at our linguistical gaffs, which is more endearing, than malicious, my favorite being the time I wanted to omit the word "city" from the statement, "I live in Ho Chi Minh City" - Toi song o Thanh Pho Ho Chi Minh. She laughed until she cried imagining me living inside the preserved body of the late Ho Chi Minh. Another time, when Steven wrote the "o-with-the-ear" incorrectly, with the ear facing the opposite way, she cracked up, asking him, "What is that? What is that? I said "uh" and you draw apple!"
So far I have learned to greet people, introduced ourselves, say what we like to do, where we're going and to tell the xe om guys on the corner that "I live RIGHT there," when they ask for the million time if we want a ride as we round the corner to our block. I truly enjoy our twice weekly lessons and I know that I need to spend more time studying and practicing my Vietnamese on the street, because my reward is much more than personal satisfaction and the ability to communicate, it is the reward of Phuc's satisfied smile.
Phuc is an absolute character. She has the greatest smile, which seems to cover her whole face when she laughs. She is a very serious teacher and likes to smack Steven on the knee when he pronounces something incorrectly, which is more often than she'd like. She is always laughing at our linguistical gaffs, which is more endearing, than malicious, my favorite being the time I wanted to omit the word "city" from the statement, "I live in Ho Chi Minh City" - Toi song o Thanh Pho Ho Chi Minh. She laughed until she cried imagining me living inside the preserved body of the late Ho Chi Minh. Another time, when Steven wrote the "o-with-the-ear" incorrectly, with the ear facing the opposite way, she cracked up, asking him, "What is that? What is that? I said "uh" and you draw apple!"
So far I have learned to greet people, introduced ourselves, say what we like to do, where we're going and to tell the xe om guys on the corner that "I live RIGHT there," when they ask for the million time if we want a ride as we round the corner to our block. I truly enjoy our twice weekly lessons and I know that I need to spend more time studying and practicing my Vietnamese on the street, because my reward is much more than personal satisfaction and the ability to communicate, it is the reward of Phuc's satisfied smile.
The Double Edged Sword of a Belief in Karma
I went to my second meeting of International Ladies in Vietnam today and the speaker was a doctor from the UK, a self described "Viet Kieu," a Vietnamese citizen who left and lived the majority of their lives outside of Vietnam, who was giving a presentation on her recent medical trip to Nepal. Her presentation was very interesting and highlighted both the enormous chasm in health care between people in developing countries and those of us in the west and the dire importance of basic health education in developing countries, but left me thinking not so much about health care, than about the role of chance in people's lives.
The doctor had escaped South Vietnam with her family just before the fall of Saigon, when she was four years old. She went on to gain asylum in the UK and then to study medicine in London, only returning to Vietnam two years ago, to treat people in her native country. I thought about that four year old girl in the boat so long ago and about how her fate/destiny/future was so precarious and how through some twist of fate or turn of chance, she escaped a country in which she would have most likely received a sub-standard education and have had little or no chance at a professional career in medicine, to being a successful doctor, one who cares enough about the world's people to volunteer her time and her skills to help some of the world's poorest citizens. And then I thought about all of the kids I see selling lottery tickets and gum on the streets of Saigon and wonder just who they could become if they had that chance.
After her presentation, they introduced all of the new members (I am now an official member of ILV) and some of the other members came over and introduced themselves and asked me how I came to be in Vietnam and how I liked it so far. I mentioned to one woman that I really liked Vietnam, but was struggling with no longer being a "productive member of society," having left my career behind in the states. I went on to say that I hate to complain, because so many here have so little, and she brushed my comment off saying, "well you have to get past that, too. I don't know if it is karma or what, but we are where we are and they are where they are and we just have to help when we can." I was quite taken aback, but couldn't form an appropriate response, so I just said something about how I still needed to work and moved on to the next well-wisher.
Once on my own, her comment came back to me. Do I really have what I have because of karma, as in, I deserve what I have and alternatively, people who have less, or nothing at all, have nothing because of karma, because they deserve to be where they are? I found that such a repugnant thought that it made me question my flitting belief in karma at all. I used to think of karma as coming back to someone who treated people badly and it being some sort of re-distributive force in the universe. But I can't believe that people who are suffering from lack of health care in Nepal, from war and famine in the Congo, from natural disasters in Haiti, deserve to suffer, while I deserve to be sitting here health, in my clean, safe apartment with a cupboard full of food.
I think it is mere chance that separates me from those who are suffering; chance that I was born to in a stable family, to loving parents in a country with opportunity. Take one of these kids, some of my kids from IRC, whose parents brought them to the states for a better life and compare them, in ten years, to their peers in the states and you will have an example of the difference a chance can make.
I'll get down now. Thanks for listening. Now where is that woman's email....?
The doctor had escaped South Vietnam with her family just before the fall of Saigon, when she was four years old. She went on to gain asylum in the UK and then to study medicine in London, only returning to Vietnam two years ago, to treat people in her native country. I thought about that four year old girl in the boat so long ago and about how her fate/destiny/future was so precarious and how through some twist of fate or turn of chance, she escaped a country in which she would have most likely received a sub-standard education and have had little or no chance at a professional career in medicine, to being a successful doctor, one who cares enough about the world's people to volunteer her time and her skills to help some of the world's poorest citizens. And then I thought about all of the kids I see selling lottery tickets and gum on the streets of Saigon and wonder just who they could become if they had that chance.
After her presentation, they introduced all of the new members (I am now an official member of ILV) and some of the other members came over and introduced themselves and asked me how I came to be in Vietnam and how I liked it so far. I mentioned to one woman that I really liked Vietnam, but was struggling with no longer being a "productive member of society," having left my career behind in the states. I went on to say that I hate to complain, because so many here have so little, and she brushed my comment off saying, "well you have to get past that, too. I don't know if it is karma or what, but we are where we are and they are where they are and we just have to help when we can." I was quite taken aback, but couldn't form an appropriate response, so I just said something about how I still needed to work and moved on to the next well-wisher.
Once on my own, her comment came back to me. Do I really have what I have because of karma, as in, I deserve what I have and alternatively, people who have less, or nothing at all, have nothing because of karma, because they deserve to be where they are? I found that such a repugnant thought that it made me question my flitting belief in karma at all. I used to think of karma as coming back to someone who treated people badly and it being some sort of re-distributive force in the universe. But I can't believe that people who are suffering from lack of health care in Nepal, from war and famine in the Congo, from natural disasters in Haiti, deserve to suffer, while I deserve to be sitting here health, in my clean, safe apartment with a cupboard full of food.
I think it is mere chance that separates me from those who are suffering; chance that I was born to in a stable family, to loving parents in a country with opportunity. Take one of these kids, some of my kids from IRC, whose parents brought them to the states for a better life and compare them, in ten years, to their peers in the states and you will have an example of the difference a chance can make.
I'll get down now. Thanks for listening. Now where is that woman's email....?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Vung Tau
The Lonely Planet Vietnam issue describes Vung Tau as "a commercialized beach resort on a peninsula jutting into the South China Sea. The business of oil drilling here means the azure horizon is marred by frequent oil tankers and the population flecked with joy-seeking expats. The beaches here aren't Vietnam's best, nor is the water pristine due to pollution from oil drilling, but Vung Tau is an easy, fast beach foray out of HCMC. Beach goers looking for a tropical-holiday feel might do better making the three-hour (FIVE hour)trip to beautiful Mui Ne Beach."
Not a ringing endorsement.
Nevertheless, Steven and I headed out for the weekend to Saigon's nearest beach getaway.
There are two ways to get to Vung Tau, for those of us without our own means of transportation: by bus (two hours for two dollars) or by hydrofoil (rapid-ferry - one hour and fifteen minutes for ten dollars). We decided to splurge.
At 10:00 on Saturday morning, Steven and I were calling out last minute items and rushing out the door to catch our 10:30 a.m. ferry. We commissioned our two xe om drivers, who argued a moment about where exactly it was we were going before taking off down the street. Once down by the river, it became apparent that they didn't know where the pier was, as they indicated that they would off near where they thought it was. Steven and I started back down the street in the direction they had pointed and made it to the ticket booth and onto the ferry just before it pulled away from the pier.
The ride to Vung Tau was comfortable and uneventful and we arrived an hour and 15 minutes later.
The ferry pier at Vung Tau is a sight it itself, looking quite out of place with its strange modern design, looking somewhat like enormous metal slices of bread placed on blocks of varying heights (I hope I have a picture of that one - much too hard to describe in words). After leaving the ferry, Steven and I decided to walk around the other side of the peninsula where our hotel was and refused numerous offers from xe om and taxi drivers before we finally found ourselves alone on the wide tiled sidewalk along the seawall. With the South China Sea to our right and rows of small attractive hotels, punctuated with the occasional Vietnamese/Chinese temple to our left, we took in the sights under a beating South Vietnamese sun. After about 10 minutes of walking, relief came in the form of a row of bushes shaped into an enormous dragon draping the sidewalk in it's shade. When we found ourselves between two of Vung Tau's few attractions, the an enormous sculpture of Jesus on a hill and an island temple, only accessible in low tides, we decided to make our way down to the beach.
Steven went first, climbing down a hillside covered with boulders and millions of smaller red and blue pebbles, with confidence, in improper footwear; while I followed, gingerly, wondering where I had left my sure footing, as I struggled with my awkward beach bag, threatening to fly around from its place tucked behind my arm and hurl me down the hill. When I finally made it to the ground, I found Steven, doubled over, his head inches from the ground by his feet. Thinking, something awful had happened while I was preoccupied with my descent, I rushed over to him, only to hear him say, "Careful! You'll squash them!" It was only then that I noticed that the ground was covered with millions (maybe billions?) of tiny little balls of sand, placed outside tiny little holes, made by tiny little crabs. We'd never seen so many crabs in our lives in one place. They were everywhere.
As we headed toward the larger beach, I gave up the impossible task of trying to avoid squashing all of the little sand balls and let Steven convince me that the crabs "run into their holes when they see your foot coming." All of the single rooms were full at the first hotel; the second was too fancy for me and the third was completely booked. At the forth, we found a great room with a/c, tv, a stocked mini-fridge and a balcony with a view of the beach for $18. We showered, changed and went for lunch at a local Vietnamese restaurant before settling into our 20,000 vnd chairs ($1.50) on the beach.
Contrary to all of the negative reports, we found Vung Tau to be clean and picturesque. The beach wasn't completely devoid of litter, but it wasn't horrible and the water appeared clean enough to swim in (or so I deduced from my seat under our umbrella, not having brought an extra change of clothes and forgetting that the Vietnamese swim fully dressed). Steven enjoyed a swim in the rough water while I read in the shade.
After the beach, we went back to the hotel to see about renting a motorbike. Because Vung Tau gets very few foreign tourists, it doesn't seem to be a priority for those working in the tourist industry to speak anything but Vietnamese or, as Steven decided after the receptionist at our hotel couldn't understand when we asked her for her name in Vietnamese, even Vietnamese. Finally, after lots of gesturing and pointing in my phrase book, we managed to arrange to rent a motorbike at a rate of $11 for one day.
We headed out on our bike just before dark and rode along the oceanside road towards the more northern beaches. We had dinner at a local seafood restaurant there and then headed back into Vung Tau to dog track where we lost two bets in quick succession. We headed back out and spent the rest of the evening riding around Vung Tau and up and down the beach checking out the evening nightlife. Riding along the seaside road under the starry sky, I was reminded again why I like living overseas.
The next day, we left the hotel early and after a fruitless search for breakfast - apparently anything called a cafe or a coffee shop only serves cafe or coffee - and decided to forgo breakfast entirely and climb up the hill to the huge Jesus statue before going back to the hotel to check out. We drove over the the park, left the bike in the bike lot and followed the other visitors up about 15 flights of stairs to the top, where the journey continued, for people in appropriate attire, myself not included, to the top of the statue where you could take pictures looking over Jesus's shoulder. While Steven climbed to the top, I wandered around near the base, appreciating the craftsmanship of the sculpture and wondering about the seemingly incongruous placement of the two enormous, relatively modern looking, cannons that flanked the Jesus sculpture on each side.
Back down the stairs, we rode back to the hotel where we checked out, left our bag at the counter and stopped for lunch at a restaurant with the worst Indian food on the planet. After lunch, I took over and practiced my "in-town" driving and my roundabout navigation and then headed back to the beach for another swim/read in the shade.
At 4:30, we were on the ferry back to Saigon, with much more pleasant memories of Vung Tau than the expectations we had brought with us the previous day.
Woman fishing with a net along the road
Bread-shaped pier
Temple along the road
Ditto
Bush Dragon
Bush Dragon
Steven on his way to the beach
Mini-crab sand balls
Mini-crab sand balls
View from our balcony
Mural on our balcony
Balcony view
Steven from our scenic breakfast spot that didn't serve breakfast
Steven with his coffee
Climbing up to Jesus Statue
Huge Jesus Statue
Inside Jesus Statue
Jesus' Face/View
Jesus' Statue View
View of Vung Tau beach
Island temple
Jesus' cannon
Our beach chairs
Fully clothed Vietnamese women in the water
Fully clothed Vietnamese women in the water with no zoom
I couldn't help myself
View from the pier
Fishing boats near the pier
Not a ringing endorsement.
Nevertheless, Steven and I headed out for the weekend to Saigon's nearest beach getaway.
There are two ways to get to Vung Tau, for those of us without our own means of transportation: by bus (two hours for two dollars) or by hydrofoil (rapid-ferry - one hour and fifteen minutes for ten dollars). We decided to splurge.
At 10:00 on Saturday morning, Steven and I were calling out last minute items and rushing out the door to catch our 10:30 a.m. ferry. We commissioned our two xe om drivers, who argued a moment about where exactly it was we were going before taking off down the street. Once down by the river, it became apparent that they didn't know where the pier was, as they indicated that they would off near where they thought it was. Steven and I started back down the street in the direction they had pointed and made it to the ticket booth and onto the ferry just before it pulled away from the pier.
The ride to Vung Tau was comfortable and uneventful and we arrived an hour and 15 minutes later.
The ferry pier at Vung Tau is a sight it itself, looking quite out of place with its strange modern design, looking somewhat like enormous metal slices of bread placed on blocks of varying heights (I hope I have a picture of that one - much too hard to describe in words). After leaving the ferry, Steven and I decided to walk around the other side of the peninsula where our hotel was and refused numerous offers from xe om and taxi drivers before we finally found ourselves alone on the wide tiled sidewalk along the seawall. With the South China Sea to our right and rows of small attractive hotels, punctuated with the occasional Vietnamese/Chinese temple to our left, we took in the sights under a beating South Vietnamese sun. After about 10 minutes of walking, relief came in the form of a row of bushes shaped into an enormous dragon draping the sidewalk in it's shade. When we found ourselves between two of Vung Tau's few attractions, the an enormous sculpture of Jesus on a hill and an island temple, only accessible in low tides, we decided to make our way down to the beach.
Steven went first, climbing down a hillside covered with boulders and millions of smaller red and blue pebbles, with confidence, in improper footwear; while I followed, gingerly, wondering where I had left my sure footing, as I struggled with my awkward beach bag, threatening to fly around from its place tucked behind my arm and hurl me down the hill. When I finally made it to the ground, I found Steven, doubled over, his head inches from the ground by his feet. Thinking, something awful had happened while I was preoccupied with my descent, I rushed over to him, only to hear him say, "Careful! You'll squash them!" It was only then that I noticed that the ground was covered with millions (maybe billions?) of tiny little balls of sand, placed outside tiny little holes, made by tiny little crabs. We'd never seen so many crabs in our lives in one place. They were everywhere.
As we headed toward the larger beach, I gave up the impossible task of trying to avoid squashing all of the little sand balls and let Steven convince me that the crabs "run into their holes when they see your foot coming." All of the single rooms were full at the first hotel; the second was too fancy for me and the third was completely booked. At the forth, we found a great room with a/c, tv, a stocked mini-fridge and a balcony with a view of the beach for $18. We showered, changed and went for lunch at a local Vietnamese restaurant before settling into our 20,000 vnd chairs ($1.50) on the beach.
Contrary to all of the negative reports, we found Vung Tau to be clean and picturesque. The beach wasn't completely devoid of litter, but it wasn't horrible and the water appeared clean enough to swim in (or so I deduced from my seat under our umbrella, not having brought an extra change of clothes and forgetting that the Vietnamese swim fully dressed). Steven enjoyed a swim in the rough water while I read in the shade.
After the beach, we went back to the hotel to see about renting a motorbike. Because Vung Tau gets very few foreign tourists, it doesn't seem to be a priority for those working in the tourist industry to speak anything but Vietnamese or, as Steven decided after the receptionist at our hotel couldn't understand when we asked her for her name in Vietnamese, even Vietnamese. Finally, after lots of gesturing and pointing in my phrase book, we managed to arrange to rent a motorbike at a rate of $11 for one day.
We headed out on our bike just before dark and rode along the oceanside road towards the more northern beaches. We had dinner at a local seafood restaurant there and then headed back into Vung Tau to dog track where we lost two bets in quick succession. We headed back out and spent the rest of the evening riding around Vung Tau and up and down the beach checking out the evening nightlife. Riding along the seaside road under the starry sky, I was reminded again why I like living overseas.
The next day, we left the hotel early and after a fruitless search for breakfast - apparently anything called a cafe or a coffee shop only serves cafe or coffee - and decided to forgo breakfast entirely and climb up the hill to the huge Jesus statue before going back to the hotel to check out. We drove over the the park, left the bike in the bike lot and followed the other visitors up about 15 flights of stairs to the top, where the journey continued, for people in appropriate attire, myself not included, to the top of the statue where you could take pictures looking over Jesus's shoulder. While Steven climbed to the top, I wandered around near the base, appreciating the craftsmanship of the sculpture and wondering about the seemingly incongruous placement of the two enormous, relatively modern looking, cannons that flanked the Jesus sculpture on each side.
Back down the stairs, we rode back to the hotel where we checked out, left our bag at the counter and stopped for lunch at a restaurant with the worst Indian food on the planet. After lunch, I took over and practiced my "in-town" driving and my roundabout navigation and then headed back to the beach for another swim/read in the shade.
At 4:30, we were on the ferry back to Saigon, with much more pleasant memories of Vung Tau than the expectations we had brought with us the previous day.
Woman fishing with a net along the road
Bread-shaped pier
Temple along the road
Ditto
Bush Dragon
Bush Dragon
Steven on his way to the beach
Mini-crab sand balls
Mini-crab sand balls
View from our balcony
Mural on our balcony
Balcony view
Steven from our scenic breakfast spot that didn't serve breakfast
Steven with his coffee
Climbing up to Jesus Statue
Huge Jesus Statue
Inside Jesus Statue
Jesus' Face/View
Jesus' Statue View
View of Vung Tau beach
Island temple
Jesus' cannon
Our beach chairs
Fully clothed Vietnamese women in the water
Fully clothed Vietnamese women in the water with no zoom
I couldn't help myself
View from the pier
Fishing boats near the pier
Friday, November 07, 2008
Things I like about Vietnam
Steven left his passport at the post office when he picked up a package the other day and asked me to go back to the post office this afternoon to pick it up. I had the paperwork he had recieved from the post office when he picked up the package, but I could not seem to find an address for the post office on the paperwork. I decided to ask the xe om driver to see if he could find the address.
I went down stairs and handed the paper to a driver outside our building (our regular guys weren't there). I pointed to the word for post office and said, "where?" He looked at me and shook his head and walked over to consult with another driver a few feet away, who spoke English. I explained that I needed to go back to that specific post office, but I couldn't find an address on the paperwork. As we looked over the papers, a woman from a nearby stall came over. A few seconds later we were joined buy two people from the shop behind us. They all began discussing the situation and passing the paper around. The driver who spoke English pulled out a map and I told him that I remembered that it was in Cholon near the market because Steven had told me how he had enjoyed the fragrance of the streets near the spice market. Looking at the map, we found the marker for a post office. He then showed the driver how to get to the post office as another man with the paper, handed it back to me and pointed at a stamp that showed it had, indeed, been stamped in District 5, Cholon.
Once my driver was sure of the location, I thanked everyone and they went back to their respective posts. Consequently, the driver took me to the post office, through the nice smelling streets of Cholon's spice market, and I was able to retrieve Steven's passport.
This was just one example of something I like about living in Vietnam. Not that there aren't other places of the world, including many places in the states, with friendly people, but the Vietnamese people seem to be, as a people curious and friendly and always willing to help if they see someone in need. Something we've experienced more than a few times since being here.
This inspired me to make a list of the things I like about living in Vietnam for those days when I miss my friends and the freedom of running in Grant Park. And I hope to continue to add to this list throughout my time here.
Things I like about living in Vietnam:
1. Nonverbal Conversations that end in complete comprehension on both sides.
2. Smiling elderly Vietnamese women in Vietnamese pajamas and conical hats.
3. Similing elderly Vietnamese men.
4. Friendly hello's on the street.
5. Xe om rides through the city.
6. Streetside seafood restaurants.
7. Learning Vietnamese with Phuc (Phooo) and Phuc in general.
8. Shopping in little street markets.
9. Friendly Vietnamese people.
10. Rice donuts with mystery red filling from Tour Les Jours Bakery.
11. The park near Diamond Plaza.
12. The open streets, huge trees and wide sidewalks of Ho Chi Minh City.
13. Cool refreshing afternoon breezes.
14. Refreshing afternoon thunderstorms.
15. Having an apartment to ourselves (even though we do miss Steve and Radka!)
16. Hanging laundry on the porch.
17. Sleeping in an airconditioned room.
18. Our open "Asian-style" bathroom.
19. Ridiculously cheap vegetables.
20. Ridiculously cheap seafood.
21. Cooking with rice noodles.
22. Tiger beer (it has grown on me...)
23. Our family-run neighborhood convenience store.
24. Having lunch with Steven at his yummy Vegetarian Restaurant.
25. Practicing my rudimentary Vietnamese on the street.
26. Planning weekend getaways.
27. Talking to my Mom and Dad on Skype (even though in person would be better!)
28. All of the challenges I've yet to overcome, like learning to order a variety of dishes at a street restaurant with no menus and riding a motorscooter in HCMC traffic.
29. Rice fields.
30. Beaches on the South China Sea.
31. Coconut canndy from the Mekong.
32. Impromptu conversations with local Vietnamese (over a beer and shellfish the other day).
33. Becoming a regular face in our neighborhood.
34. Xe om drivers who seem to appreicate a friendly no thank you and a smile.
35. The crazy things people strap to the back of their motorbikes (like numerious cartons of eggs).
36. The variety of vehicles on the roads from bicycles, motorcyles, cars and buses to cyclos, half a motorcycle attached to a large metal crate, and three-wheeled contraptions that move with a pump of the handlebars.
37. Three dollar massages.
38. One dollar manicures.
39. Indian commercials.
40. BBC World News.
41. Eating with chopsticks.
42. Writing my blog.
43. Crossing the street through a sea of vehicles with confidence.
44. $.75 bootleg DVDs.
45. New friends.
46. Walking to the movies through the park.
47. The elevation of micro-wave popcorn to delicacy level.
48. The sense of accomplishment for small things.
49. Bags of orange sticky rice.
50. Eathing chicken pho at a market restaurant watching the pouring rain.
I went down stairs and handed the paper to a driver outside our building (our regular guys weren't there). I pointed to the word for post office and said, "where?" He looked at me and shook his head and walked over to consult with another driver a few feet away, who spoke English. I explained that I needed to go back to that specific post office, but I couldn't find an address on the paperwork. As we looked over the papers, a woman from a nearby stall came over. A few seconds later we were joined buy two people from the shop behind us. They all began discussing the situation and passing the paper around. The driver who spoke English pulled out a map and I told him that I remembered that it was in Cholon near the market because Steven had told me how he had enjoyed the fragrance of the streets near the spice market. Looking at the map, we found the marker for a post office. He then showed the driver how to get to the post office as another man with the paper, handed it back to me and pointed at a stamp that showed it had, indeed, been stamped in District 5, Cholon.
Once my driver was sure of the location, I thanked everyone and they went back to their respective posts. Consequently, the driver took me to the post office, through the nice smelling streets of Cholon's spice market, and I was able to retrieve Steven's passport.
This was just one example of something I like about living in Vietnam. Not that there aren't other places of the world, including many places in the states, with friendly people, but the Vietnamese people seem to be, as a people curious and friendly and always willing to help if they see someone in need. Something we've experienced more than a few times since being here.
This inspired me to make a list of the things I like about living in Vietnam for those days when I miss my friends and the freedom of running in Grant Park. And I hope to continue to add to this list throughout my time here.
Things I like about living in Vietnam:
1. Nonverbal Conversations that end in complete comprehension on both sides.
2. Smiling elderly Vietnamese women in Vietnamese pajamas and conical hats.
3. Similing elderly Vietnamese men.
4. Friendly hello's on the street.
5. Xe om rides through the city.
6. Streetside seafood restaurants.
7. Learning Vietnamese with Phuc (Phooo) and Phuc in general.
8. Shopping in little street markets.
9. Friendly Vietnamese people.
10. Rice donuts with mystery red filling from Tour Les Jours Bakery.
11. The park near Diamond Plaza.
12. The open streets, huge trees and wide sidewalks of Ho Chi Minh City.
13. Cool refreshing afternoon breezes.
14. Refreshing afternoon thunderstorms.
15. Having an apartment to ourselves (even though we do miss Steve and Radka!)
16. Hanging laundry on the porch.
17. Sleeping in an airconditioned room.
18. Our open "Asian-style" bathroom.
19. Ridiculously cheap vegetables.
20. Ridiculously cheap seafood.
21. Cooking with rice noodles.
22. Tiger beer (it has grown on me...)
23. Our family-run neighborhood convenience store.
24. Having lunch with Steven at his yummy Vegetarian Restaurant.
25. Practicing my rudimentary Vietnamese on the street.
26. Planning weekend getaways.
27. Talking to my Mom and Dad on Skype (even though in person would be better!)
28. All of the challenges I've yet to overcome, like learning to order a variety of dishes at a street restaurant with no menus and riding a motorscooter in HCMC traffic.
29. Rice fields.
30. Beaches on the South China Sea.
31. Coconut canndy from the Mekong.
32. Impromptu conversations with local Vietnamese (over a beer and shellfish the other day).
33. Becoming a regular face in our neighborhood.
34. Xe om drivers who seem to appreicate a friendly no thank you and a smile.
35. The crazy things people strap to the back of their motorbikes (like numerious cartons of eggs).
36. The variety of vehicles on the roads from bicycles, motorcyles, cars and buses to cyclos, half a motorcycle attached to a large metal crate, and three-wheeled contraptions that move with a pump of the handlebars.
37. Three dollar massages.
38. One dollar manicures.
39. Indian commercials.
40. BBC World News.
41. Eating with chopsticks.
42. Writing my blog.
43. Crossing the street through a sea of vehicles with confidence.
44. $.75 bootleg DVDs.
45. New friends.
46. Walking to the movies through the park.
47. The elevation of micro-wave popcorn to delicacy level.
48. The sense of accomplishment for small things.
49. Bags of orange sticky rice.
50. Eathing chicken pho at a market restaurant watching the pouring rain.
Our Gum & Cigarette Lady
There is a woman who sits outside of our apartment building every day selling gum and cigaretts (and various other things) out of a rolling stand that she rolls out onto the side walk every morning and back in every night. Ever since we moved in, she has offered us friendly smiles whenever we see her, but she has proven to be so much more than just a friendly neighbor.
She is our mail recipient - on two occasions when someone has sent mail to our home address: 147/1A Nguyen Tri Phuong, F8, Q5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, as oppossed to our mailing address at the school, the mail person has given her the letters and she then gives them to us. So apparently we can recieve mail at our home, you just have to write c/o Gum & Cigarette Lady.
She is our emergency door opener - one day when Steven locked his keys in the house, effectively locking himself in the vestibule of our building, unable to get back into our apartment or out onto the street, she came to his rescue and let him out of the building with her front door key. Steven didn't even have to tell me what happened because when I returned from my run, she pantomimed the whole incident to me, laughing the whole time. Steven was so grateful that he said he might start smoking just because of her (since he doesn't chew gum).
She is our taxi hailer - just one appealing look at her when our regular xe om drivers aren't around and she is on the job waving over someone from down the street.
She is our friend - every so often, she will walk over to me at the door as I return with a large purchase - hanging pots for our balcony, a new broom and dust pan - and ask me about them, making what sound like approving comments as I demonstrate my new purchases. I am looking forward to giving her some of our fresh basil once we have our first crop.
Today I asked her her name in Vietnamese, but she didn't understand me. I am going to keep trying. I think she'll appreciate it.
She is our mail recipient - on two occasions when someone has sent mail to our home address: 147/1A Nguyen Tri Phuong, F8, Q5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, as oppossed to our mailing address at the school, the mail person has given her the letters and she then gives them to us. So apparently we can recieve mail at our home, you just have to write c/o Gum & Cigarette Lady.
She is our emergency door opener - one day when Steven locked his keys in the house, effectively locking himself in the vestibule of our building, unable to get back into our apartment or out onto the street, she came to his rescue and let him out of the building with her front door key. Steven didn't even have to tell me what happened because when I returned from my run, she pantomimed the whole incident to me, laughing the whole time. Steven was so grateful that he said he might start smoking just because of her (since he doesn't chew gum).
She is our taxi hailer - just one appealing look at her when our regular xe om drivers aren't around and she is on the job waving over someone from down the street.
She is our friend - every so often, she will walk over to me at the door as I return with a large purchase - hanging pots for our balcony, a new broom and dust pan - and ask me about them, making what sound like approving comments as I demonstrate my new purchases. I am looking forward to giving her some of our fresh basil once we have our first crop.
Today I asked her her name in Vietnamese, but she didn't understand me. I am going to keep trying. I think she'll appreciate it.
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