Last day in Tam Ky (journal)

5 March 2007
This is it--our last day. We went to the Baby Orphanage, after some mad packing after breakfast and dragging it all downstairs, with the other volunteers. All our replacements. I'm really going to miss those kids. I love playing iwth them and being silly with them. Lan has really attached herself to me and I feel bad that I have to just leave. It's been such a great experience and I'm so connected to them all. The twin hellion girls. The little rambunctious boys. The quiet ones, especially Quy even though she cries all the time.

Each little kid has their own little thing that I will remember about them. It's so hard to leave and I just hope that they will be loved. It's amazing how close I've become to the kids here; I knew I would enjoy it, but I really didn't think it would be quite this strong of a bond with them. I really do wish I could do more them--take one or two home with me. Or something. It feels a bit frustrating. These kids are so wonderful and loving and really just need to be loved a bit more.

We said a quick goodbye, as to avoid the tears, then hurried back to the house to make sure all of our stuff was packed. We still had more (shoes, books) and decided to leave some (clarinet, clothes) to get later.

Mr. Hanh had to go back and get the other volunteers; we waited at the house watching time pass and consoling Mrs Hanh, who was crying pretty darn hard. I felt so bad for her, for Audrey. We've grown to love Mrs Hanh very much and even though we have plans to come back, it is still hard to say goodbye.

creativity required (journal)

9 March 2007
The power's out and we've run out of things to do. We've made shadow puppets, read by candlelight, told stories and tried watch a video on the computer, but the battery died. Ugh! It's not even 8pm. Stuart, not too surprisingly, is already tired and could go to sleep, but Audrey is still wired. Double ugh! We've been power-less for about three hours so far. It's one of the odd things about Viet Nam. Power is never guaranteed. We've lost power in every city we have been in. We've lost it everyday we've been in Ha Noi this time. I don't know why. It wasn't so bad elsewhere. It's strange when it's out for so long. And it's out in a huge area, too, almost as far as we can see to the north and west of us. To the east, just a couple of blocks away they have power. Probably our old hotel has power. Bummer.

sick and tired (journal)

4 March 2007
I woke up this morning feeling kind of icky, but within an hour I felt like I was going to die. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but I did feel really horrible. Like I had bad bronchitis or possibly pneumonia again. That kind of sick where all you can do is cry. So bad. Stuart was very helpful, putting the laundry up to dry and lying with me for a bit. Audrey made me a really sweet get well card, too. I was real worried about our trip to Ha Noi tomorrow. Mrs Hanh was very worried, too ("Teresa coming hospital!") so I told her what the problem was--very tired, hard to breath, and my chest was hurting. She said she had been sick this week, too, and said it was the same for her. I have a disgusting cough to go along with it, though. I've been dealing with this cough since before Tet [I still have the cough.]

Anyway, Mrs Hanh assured me that she had some medicine for me. At this point, I'm willing to endure being scraped with a silver spoon if it might make me feel better. She went back home and brought a little square packet: "Meko coramin" and "Mekophar." No idea what that means, but I'm desperate, so I took the square tablet, as directed by Mrs Hanh: Place it on my tongue and let it dissolve slowly.

Pauline took the kids out for a bike ride (with helmets, as always) and let me rest plus chat with Lee for a bit. It was super nice of her. The night before we'd joked that we looked like a happy lil' family at the coffee shop: Dad, Mom, two kids and Grandma. Today she acted like a grandma, taking the kids so I could rest. So very sweet.

Within about an hour of taking/eating the tablet, I was back to 80%. Felt so much better Seriously amazing. The pain in my chest was gone and I no longer felt an intense desire to cry myself to sleep. Ah, the joy of unknown meds. ha!

Han (journal entry)

9 February 2007
Another lovely day in Tam Ky, Viet Nam. The weather is gorgeous, though I will admit to it taking its toll on me when I ride out to the orphanage. It makes me more tired, so it's a bit harder to play with the kids. Not the way they want me to, at least. They really love the grabbing and tickling and chasing and carrying, but it's hard to do that after getting all sweaty and tired from the bike ride.

Today I rode in the car-only the third time to the Baby Orphanage. Jo and Charlie came along, as well as Kim, so it was quite a crew of us--nine of us in all. The kids all seemed to love it, though, especially to have another 'boy' to play with.

We picked up Han on the way to the Baby Orphanage. She lives at the Rehab Hospital during the week, but comes back to the orphanage on the weekends. She came to the orphanage five or six months ago. First, her grandmother brought her in, but they would not take her because she is disabled (no muscle tone or control in her lower body). So that night the grandmother left Han in front of the orphanage. GVN volunteers felt really bad for her and two of them are paying for her hospital stay and rehabilitation.

There's high hope for her gaining muscle strength since Mrs. Hanh's son Trung had the same sort of issue going on and he lived at the hospital for two years and now he can walk okay. Still has a lot of trouble with eating, but his muscle strength is much better. So there is hope for Han to get a bit better. Stuart seems to like her a lot. She laughs at his antics--always a good thing.

[Rumor has it that Han is being adopted by an American family. I can only hope it's true; she's such a cutie.]

The train from Hue

We went to the pastry shop before leaving town and bough about a dozen to take back to the GVN house, yummy! Then back to the hotel, checked out ($45) and caught a cab to the train station. We got there about 45 minutes early, but it was okay. Our train got there at 8:37a.m. and we got first car again, soft seats with air con. It was finally sunny (now that we are leaving) so the train ride was really beautiful. We got a bunch of photos--again.

In Da Nang a bunch of people got off the train, so we split up a bit so we could be more comfortable. Audrey was practicing writing Vietnamese, adding to her book. It always draws attention (she gets plenty already) so soone enough, we were surrounded by train employees. All watching her, helping with the marks/tones. Then one of the fellows started asking questions, in Vietnamese so we had to try to translate via the phrasebook, about her dad. Audrey explained through pictures that we divorced. He asked something that I thought was something like "Do you have a Vietnamese boyfriend?" and I said no, then Audrey drew a heart with "Khong yeu" (no love) written inside it. Come to find out, it meant "Do you want a Vietnamese husband?" Completely different question! I can't help but wonder what he thought the 'no love in her heart' drawing meant.

animals (journal entry)

16 January 2007
Courtney emailed Audrey and asked about the weird animals in Viet Nam, but there aren't many, mostly it's just that they are in weird places, like chickens at the motorbike shop, water buffalo on the main street, dogs roasted at the market, cattle roaming the fields. Which reminds me--we saw dogs on the way to their demise yesterday. There were five or six packed into a box on the back of a motorbike. Still alive, but laying squished together on top of each other. A bit disconcerting. I don't really have a problem with them eating dog (to each their own), but seeing any animal go to the slaughter gives me the creeps. Icky.

Other strange things:
cactus I never would have thought it grew here.
fruit it's everywhere to be sold, but where does it grow?
gravel made of marble and granite
internet cafes like coffee shops in Portland-they are everywhere!
ice cream & cookies they just suck here
Milo with sweetened condensed milk, it is heaven :)
gov't officials standing with machine guns at gov't buildings
coughing kids get yelled at when coughing to distract them

Truc at the Home of Affections

5 January 2007 continued
We came back for lunch, I went to the internet cafe (2000VND/hr-cheap!) and sent a few emails, then we headed out again. This time to the Home of Affection. It's much closer, less than 10 minutes by bike.

It was quite different from the baby orphanage because it is also a school and the play area was larger, but not covered. The kids there range from 4-16 years old. Many have one (or both) parents alive, but they were too poor or the government took them.

The 16-year-old is Nga and she is deaf. She is fluent in sign and so we were having a good time trying to communicate. There are many differences [between American Sign Language and Vietnamese Sign Language], but I was able to pick up a bit of it. She was teaching me more and I'm hoping to get fairly decent at it by the time we leave.

There is another child there who is supposedly 16, but he has something wrong with him [Added: we were later told he was 14, so I don't know how old he really is]. He is about the size of a 6- or 7-year-old and has the mental ability of someone around 4 years old. It was shocking to find out his age. He always wants to be held and just repeats "Hello. How are you?" over and over.

This seems to be the key phrase that people learn. The other is "Hello. What is your name?" Everywhere we go people should "Hello!" and, sometimes, the other bits as well.

Some of the kids at the orphanage can speak pretty well, mostly the older girls who were a bit awestruck by Stuart. Too funny.

Today we just visited, but next week we will start teaching there. My kids were a bit bored and happy to leave; we'll see how next week goes.

Tu (journal entry, part 2)

5 January 2007 (continued)
Oh, there's also a little boy there who is 6 years old and, honestly, the size of an 18-month-old [okay, maybe 2]. His brain is fine, but his body has just stopped growing. Yen says that when she met him two years ago, he was the same size. They feed him extra with GVN volunteers bringing him yoghurt several times a week, but it hasn't made any difference yet. Sad, but he's adorable and seems fine with his size. It makes him very nimble and quick. He's like a little monkey the way he runs around and does flips.

The babies range from one week to eight months old and except for Fat Baby (his nickname), they are all tiny lil' things. So fragile looking.

One of the kids told Yen that Audrey had something stuck on her legs. Yen looked and come to find out they didn't recognize that it was hair. Their bodies are hairless. None on their arms or legs. We are hairy beasts in comparison.

We spent about an hour there and by the time Stuart left, he was nice and sweaty. Those of us that rode bikes out, rode them back, though it was a bit tougher on the way home since we were a bit tired out. It was a fun ride, though, riding down little one lane roads past chickens and water buffalo. Odd but fantastic. I know that we will never forget this place, this whole experience.