Moments of Clarity

Wednesday, I awoke at 5:50 a.m. to the sound of our alarm and switched it off, knowing that my phone alarm would ring again in 10 minutes, giving me time to get up, shower, dress, eat and be out to meet my driver at 6:40 a.m. and at school by 7:00 a.m. with 15 minutes to spare before I began my first class. I wasn't looking forward to my classes since I remembered my Wednesday and Thursday classes to be the more difficult of the two campuses, but, I told myself, it is only 3 hours and 45 minutes and you'll have the rest of the day to yourself.

I was up and out right on schedule and walked into my first class with just a little more trepidation than I had entered my previous days' classes. To my amazement, the kids actually listened to me when I spoke. They were quiet and attentive. When I gave them an assignment to do, most of the actually did it. I almost had to pinch myself. Because they weren't so noisy and I didn't have to yell, I was able to joke with them and enjoy myself. By the time was over in the morning, I was even more unsure of my decision to resign, realizing that the position wasn't as bad as I had made it out to be and that I could actually do it. The unfortunate part of my indecision was that I had a meeting with Khoi to "sort out my decision." I left the school with a lighter step and headed to the bus stop to catch the bus to District Three and the UNESCO office.

The bus I take to both SCC and UNESCO is the 54 which runs down Dien Bien Phu. Dien Bien Phu is my new favorite place to buy fruit. Ladies (and the occasional man) line the street with conical hats and bicycles with big bag baskets filled with brilliant orange tangerines, bright red rambutans and whatever other fruit is in season. From 30,000 VND a kilo in our neighborhood, rambutans on Dien Bien Phu go for 8,000 VND a kilo. A kilo of tangerines sets you back 10,000 VND (17,000 VND = $1). I hate to buy fruit in bulk anywhere else knowing how cheap I can get it here.

Standing on the sidewalk as the bus pulled away, I realized that I only had a 100,000 VND bill with me and I could hardly expect one of the fruit ladies to change such a large bill. I decided to see if I could find a store where I could buy an iced green tea for 8,000 and get some change. After walking a few blocks, I had seen many restaurants, but no little shops, so I decided to see if I could simply break the bill at one of the restaurants. As I walked in, the one non-Vietnamese in the vicinity, I could see that familiar look of panic cross the cashier's face. The look that, with a quick widening of the eyes and an anxious glance to the left and right, that says, "Oh No. Here comes a westerner. Is there anyone around here that speaks English?!" Despite her look of panic, I walked right up to the cashier and said, "Co hai num muoi nhang?" (Do you have two 50 thousands?) and handed her my 100,000 bill. A look of relief washed over her face and she smiled as she took my bill and handed me two 50,000 VND bills. I smiled and thanked her in Vietnamese and walked out like I'd been speaking Vietnamese all my life. It wasn't much, but it was a great feeling being able to communicate without speaking a word of English.

After getting my change, I bought a kilo of tangerines and half a kilo of rambutans asking for both purchases in Vietnamese ("mot kilo," "nua kilo") and then headed to UNESCO for my meeting with Khoi.

I wasn't looking forward to the meeting, but I wasn't dreading it either. Khoi is one of the friendliest people I've ever met and the worst part of leaving UNESCO for me was the thought of letting him down. I also realized that I had grown to like having somewhere to go in the morning and walking around the city after work in my work clothes feeling like I was just another resident going about my weekly chores, as opposed to another backpacker passing through. I'd also grown fond of the kids, as much as I dread teaching. Under all their initial attitude and lack of interest, they all seemed like genuinely nice kids and those that I had developed a rapport with were even enjoyable to teach. I knew that I had taken on too much and that I wouldn't necessarily look forward to teaching four days a week for the next five months, but I also knew that if I had to, I could do it and I would probably become better at it over time. I also liked the fact that I was bringing in money. Steven's job covers all of our basic expenses as well as his financial obligations back in Atlanta, but my job allowed us to have a more carefree lifestyle and gave us the option of getting away to see different places. But being so busy had cut me off from any type of social awareness, from the time I needed, not just to live in Viet Nam, but to process the experience and get this most out of it, and, admittedly, from being the happy homemaker I had enjoyed being when I had nothing better to do - shopping at the market, keeping the apartment clean, making nice dinners for Steven and myself. What I needed was a compromise. I thought that if I could work just two days a week, I would maintain my sense of purpose and reliable income with regular employment, but I would also open my schedule up to things more along the lines of my profession, allow me to be more involved at SCC and give me more time to enjoy living in Viet Nam. I had no idea if Khoi would agree to this proposition, but I thought that it was worth a shot to make an offer and see if it was one that would work for both of us.

Once at UNESCO, after a few minutes of discussing my needs verses the needs of UNESCO, Khoi offered the same solution that I had thought up just minutes before. I was grateful for his understanding and he was happy to have me stay on board. I left the office feeling a little guilty at leaving some of my kids behind, but excited about the prospect of my new schedule and all that it might bring.

Sitting on the bus on the way home, I had time to reflect on our brief time here in Viet Nam and I realized how much of a learning process it has been and how much I have truly come to enjoy living in Viet Nam. It may not have the temples or monks of Thailand; it may not have the frijoles negros served with every meal as in Guatemala, but it has its own charm and I am looking forward to the next six months.