B is for Babies

Today we were, after much planning and procrastinating, able to get out to the Thanh Hoa orphanage. Located much closer to the beach than the city, it's a good-sized orphanage that is home to more then sixty children from the area. We'd gone at the request of an adoptive mom who had brought a little girl, Thuy, home from there last year. She had a letter and photos to be brought back to the caretaker and I volunteered to do it. It's just taken me a few weeks to get it arranged with people to come along with me.

Giang, my student from two years ago, and Thang, a current student, accompanied the kids and me out to the orphanage with a bag of clothes and an envelope with the caretaker's name on it. On arrival, the guard didn't seem too sure what to do with us, questioning who we were, where we were from and what we wanted. The buildings were quiet ("Where are all the kids?" Audrey wanted to know. I assumed, correctly, that they were in class) and only a few adults roamed, looking us over a few times. Thang did all the leg work and tracked down the vice director of the orphanage who invited us up for a bit of tea and a little conversation.

I found out some bits about the adopted girl, Thuy, and gathered some information from another woman who has contacted me (she was adopted from that orphanage seventeen years ago) and made small talk with the kids while the others spoke. I got minimal translations, but that's how it often works. Soon enough, we were escorted down to the baby rooms where we got to hang out with the wee ones for a bit. There was a brand new little girl, born a month ago but more than a month too early. At birth, she weighed a scant 1.1 kilogram according to the woman (about 2 1/2 pounds). She was tiny, her face still furry from the womb. Her foot was barely longer than my thumb.

Audrey and I cooed and caressed the babies, awed by their tiny features. One baby had had a difficult birth, they explained, and was left with a malformed skull. They all looked healthy and content. I'd almost forgotten how sweet babies can be, but was gently reminded today of the delicate nature of life and the universal need for love. The babies there will find homes only in Vietnam or France, so there chances of adoption are slim these days. I would have taken them home with me, if it were allowed, but it isn't. Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye (tam biet, dep trai) and head back to life at the university. There's so much more I wish I could do, if I just knew how.

Us versus Them

Living out in Thanh Hoa, we see the same pale faces over and over again--the three of us plus one of the Kaplan teachers. That's it. We never run into other Westerners at the supermarket or walking the streets of Thanh Hoa. And even though we know we look vastly different, we have stopped feeling vastly different. Familiar faces wave hello. We know where to get banh mi, how to get to the shopping center, who has the best fruit drinks and more. Each of us have begun to feel like we fit in somehow, that this place is our home in a unique sort of way.

Which makes it truly shocking when we disembark from the train in Ha Noi to face Westerners seemingly everywhere. When we arrived last night, we saw more than a dozen pale-skinned people like ourselves just in the train station. Checking in with the hotel, Americans passed by talking about how nice it is that everyone speaks English and I wanted to yell at them: "Only because you're in tourism central. You should check out the real Viet Nam!"

On our way to get the fruit drinks we love so much, we managed to merge into a group of Australians coming around the corner. Loud and beligerent and distinctly new to Viet Nam. "Nothing worse than a bunch of drunk Aussies," Stuart muttered for only us to hear and we laughed loud enough to prove our own Western tendencies.

We're glad to find a donuts and pizza in Ha Noi, yet find ourselves frustrated with other Westerners clamoring for KFC. We know only the smallest bits of the language, yet belittle others for distancing themselves from the culture. We each complain about all the tourists in the Old Quarter, but this, too, is where we come each visit.

It's hypocritical, I know. But it's true that we feel a connection to this country, these people, that cannot be explained easily or readily. Maybe what we really want is for others to appreciate the beauty, depth and culture that exists outside the hop-skip-jump travel that keeps our fellow Westerners isolated from the realities of Viet Nam.

This week's food in photos...

Stuart's order of Grilled Beef with Potatoes at Da Lan, an 'upscale' restaurant in Thanh Hoa.

Banana Blossom Salad made in over an hour by yours truly

Nuoc Chanh Sua Chua (Yogurt Lemonade) and Sinh To Xoai (Mango Smoothie)
at New Sky Cafe in dowtown Thanh Hoa

Rolling out tortillas for Rice & Bean Burritos,
using a spaghetti sauce-filled Milo bottle as a rolling pin.

Vegetarian Spring Rolls made sans-recipe
with mushrooms, carrots, noodles and onions.

A homemade doughnut that turned out looking a bit like a cow

Weekend in the Rainforest

Since I’m working five days a week for the entire duration of our time in Vietnam, our chances of seeing much of the country are pretty limited. So I’ve had to come up with a short list of places we want to go. What we’ve decided on, and hoping to make it work, are visits to:

• Ha Long Bay
  
• Sa Pa
• Cuc Phuong National Park
• Sam Son beach
• Hoi An
• Tam Ky
• Da Lat

We’ve been to all but Cuc Phuong and Da Lat on our last trip. And after the adventures of the weekend, we can cross the national park off our list of places to go. Been there, done that.

I’d been trying to figure out how to get us to Cuc Phuong all week, hoping that I could find some student (past or present) to accompany us on the bus, then taxi ride up there, but that never quite worked out. As of Friday afternoon, I was thinking we’d just be stuck on campus for the weekend, the sole remaining residents who didn’t have somewhere else to go. Then it struck me. We’d be up that direction before, two years ago with Keith, and I remembered that the hotels offer tours out to Cuc Phuong, Tam Coc, Phat Diem, and Hoa Lu, among other area interests. I figured we could get up to Ninh Binh, stay in a hotel overnight and then hit the park in the morning on a tour arranged by the hotel.

And that’s just how it worked out.

My former student Thanh helped me get to the right bus and they dropped us off along Hwy 1 in Ninh Binh. I knew we hadn’t reached the area where the hotels were, having been to the city before, so we just kept walking up the road until I found the familiar intersection and within 10 minutes we were checked in and drinking water. We spent the evening strolling the area and enjoying a bit of ice cream a few doors down from our hotel.

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Happy Birthday Mom!

Just a shout-out to my mom who's celebrating her 60th birthday today. No matter when we're away, we always miss someone's special occasion. This time it's Mom's birthday. Next will be my sister's. But we'll bring back gifts! Not sure that makes them feel much better, but know that we'd be there if we could.

Kitchenware--Vietnamese style

So certain niceties of life in America are missing here. One that’s come into clear focus here is the absence of kitchen tools. There are no mixing bowls; I use an empty saucepan. No measuring spoons, only a large spoon that I guess by. No one-cup or half-cup measure; instead I use a glass cup that looks like it might be about the same on one cup. We had no grater until yesterday when I found a handmade version at the market. Obviously made by hammering a nail into a piece of metal at an angle, then attaching that to a couple of sticks, it’s a primitive version of the one I have at home. But after trying to make hashbrowns last week by slicing into the potato then using the peeler/knife/bottle opener to make thin slices resembling grated potato… Well, I knew it was something I needed. The holes are a bit small, but I am hoping to be able to expand them a bit with the tip of the knife. The same knife I use to make holes in cans since I don’t have a can opener either. See, it really is the basics that you never even consider as luxuries. Those are the things I wish I had. A spatula. A can opener. Or one of the three blenders we have back at the house in Oregon. I sure will appreciate them when we return.

This is a photo of our kitchen now, complete with granite countertops, a shelf for dishes and another two shelves for food stuff. The sink is tiny, but it’s a real sink for washing dishes and includes a filter for the drain and a drying area to the right. Granted, the faucet isn’t firmly attached and swivels in every direction. But it’s so much better than what we had before.

No Look Monkey

Last Thursday, a monkey tried to attack me.

One of my evening students, Nam, and his wife took the kids and I out for a delicious meal of bun cha and then over to an enormous coffee shop/resort that is tucked away behind the city. The expansive grounds are covered with umbrella-covered tables interspersed with play structures, primarily metal swings in the animal shapes. We meandered through and around to the other side of the building where an empty stage sat waiting a performer. Music blared from worn speakers, distorted. Nam asked if we’d like to sit up on the hill, a slight berm that overlooked the area and we jumped at the chance. The path was strung with Christmas lights, as were the slight trees that dotted the hill. We followed it up and each grabbed a swing. There were eight of them up there—metal swings meant for two—perched above the crowd of empty tables. On a Friday night, I bet this is a hot spot to take your date.

We enjoyed the view of both the café and, behind us, the city park where locals were taking an evening stroll. Stuart and I had both ordered orange juice, though they were quite different when they arrived. My guess is that one was orange juice and the other was an orange lassi (made with yogurt). It was strawberry, chocolate and taro ice cream for Audrey, melting down the side of the dish before it even arrived at our table. She enjoyed the accompanying miniature umbrella more than most would, but it entertained our hosts, as well.

Mr. Nam had said there was a monkey and since we hadn’t seen once since our time in Tam Ky two years ago, we wanted to check it out before we left. Sure enough, tied to the tree by the motorbike parking was a sad little monkey. And then Stuart noticed the other one. Tied to another tree twenty feet away, another monkey sat, then stood, then paced. Not quite as depressing as the first, I went to take a photo of it. But it moved and the zoomed in shot only caught his tail end. Time to try again. So I squatted at the edge of the sidewalk and zoomed in again, determined to get a better shot of the animal. And in the matter of a second the thing was lunging at me. I jumped back faster than I have moved in a long time, heart racing, the monkey halted only by the length of his chain. It sauntered back toward the tree and we left without another pause. If I don’t see another monkey for another two years, it’s fine. I’ve seen it closer than I ever wanted to.

Hi-ho Hi-ho, off to work I go

There’s nothing like a lot of work to keep you from being social, whether it’s stateside or abroad. And while my social life these days consists mostly of spending time with my kids and posting on this blog, both have been neglected the past few days.

Due to the national exams this week, the company was not able to find a Vietnamese national to teach the Reading and Writing segments of the course and asked me if I’d take it over for one of the classes. Usually I teach two different groups of students both the Listening and Speaking segments, but since I need the money, I agreed to take over the subjects for both classes. So instead of the regular 7-9 a.m., then 1:30-3:30 p.m. classes, I am teaching from 7-11 a.m., then 1:30-5:30 p.m. And then on Monday and Wednesday, I teach a community English class from 7-9 p.m. Needless to say, I’m a bit tired. 8-10 hours a day in front of a classroom full of students wears you out, in addition to the prep time that is required for each class. The kids have hardly seen me, but next Thursday I’ll end the 44-hour work week and go back to 20. Thank goodness.

We’re all still alive though and have been enjoying our limited time together. Last night a few students came over to watch “Jumper” and eat popcorn with us. What a great snack! I found it in Hanoi and bought two bags of popcorn kernels. We also managed to find bacon, grated cheddar cheese, baking soda, real butter, a few spices (cumin, oregano and “Italian seasoning”), dried chickpeas and rice flour. Of course, it cost as much, or more, than it would have in the States, but it’s nice to have a few things that will help make food more palateable for Audrey because despite her expressed intention to eat three square meals a day here, it’s turning into an issue again. At this point, I’ll do whatever and spend whatever to make sure she gets enough calories.

Despite my own best intentions, I haven’t managed to get as much writing done as I’d planned, though I have managed to get a few pages written over the past week and did some editing the week before. It just requires a lot of time and a lot of focus, something I haven’t had as much as I had hoped. I will get at least a draft done of the book by the end of summer, though. Then it will be time to really edit it over the winter. Although, I must admit, it’s been helpful to be here when writing. The sounds and the smells had diminished in my memories and to be back makes it all clear again. I guess what I’m saying is that even though I’d planned to be done by now, it’s kinda good that I didn’t finish. There’s still so very much to be written.