I made a list of things to do before leaving Vietnam. It is surprisingly not very long; turns out I've done most of things I've thought of as I've thought of them which is a fact I'm pretty proud of. But there was one very important thing that I've somehow missed doing: getting my hair washed.
I know it sounds random, but it is the stereotypical Vietnamese woman's luxury. Long day at work? During nap time, go get your hair washed! Often times my coworker disappears for a while and comes back with wet hair. I never understood---until today that is. For 20,000 VND (barely more than a dollar) you can have a 30 minute head massage. Complete with multiple shampoos, conditioner and a face massage. If you pay a little bit more, they'll even do your hair for you afterwards. Pure Bliss. I feel a little sad that I didn't do this regularly all year, but mostly just glad to have discovered it at all.
I went swimming this morning, then started the work day off with getting my hair washed. Tell me, why am I leaving Vietnam?
It's the best and worst idea I've had
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Who Can Argue With Fate?!
You probably didn't think I was serious about moving to Iceland, and I'll admit, I wasn't. But I think the universe has decided otherwise: last night I had a dream that my job was sending me to Iceland and just moments ago, in the episode of the West Wing that I am currently watching on my lazy Sunday afternoon, Iceland was yet again the center of conversation. Coincidence or fate? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.... :)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Something I'm NOT Neutral About.
Sometimes in times of drastic change and transitions I go into this odd neutral mode. I think it is like I'm storing up all my emotional energy for whatever is coming: goodbyes, leaving, moving, home, hellos, weddings, unemployment and whatever else unknown goes along with all of that. Right now is just right now, leaving is a fact and I guess I'll deal with whatever it means when it comes. I'm the Switzerland of emotions.
That being said, there is one thing this week that has forced me away from neutrality, far from the even-keeled land of the alps. It induces rant after rant that poor Calah and Hannah have not heard the end of.
ants.
That is right. I live in a tropical country where I'm sure there are all sorts of large and dangerous creatures but I also live in a city of 6 million people. Bugs are not common. Cockroaches take only a few attempts with a shoe. As long as I'm viewing rats from a distance they kind of entertain me. But ants are the bane of my existence. It doesn't even take food: they love my tea, glasses of water, my computer screen and keyboard, anything. Everything.
You might think that ants are harmless, well, think again my friend. They are destructive to one's mental well-being and distracting while you work and in general a complete nuisance. More than that though, these 110 million year old terrorists are known to have colonized almost every landmass on Earth. Screw modern resource driven Imperialism, or the big-name colonizing nations of the 19th century, we need to protect ourselves from the ants!
And they threaten your health! Have you heard of Phantom Ant Syndrome?! Well in the case that you haven't heard of this made up yet devastatingly serious condition, let me tell you: you do not want to suffer from it. The symptoms include a tingling feeling along your arm in an ant like pattern. It then spreads: your legs, neck, in extreme cases even your hair. Can you imagine if you had an ant in your hair?! It could cling to a single follicle and live there forever! Most people may attribute this delusion as simply a manifestation of fear and exasperation and give it little attention. Which is what makes the following fact truly terrifying: approximately 1 in 6 times it is no figment of your imagination but an actual teeny tiny colonial invader crawling on your arm!
And what is the most infuriating is that I'm 100% positive the little devils are targeting me. For example, yesterday a co-worker brought donuts to work. I ate one and absentmindedly left the plate with a single crumb on my desk. Within the hour they had declared war. The area was swarming with the minuscule 6-legged soldiers, invading not only the target itself but taking the whole area under their control. I tried to quickly squelch them out by removing the plate, but it was too late. It took hours to fully reclaim my territory.
At the exact same time downstairs in the kitchen was an entire plate of donuts left on the table. They had been cut into bite size pieces, spreading the frosting around the plate and letting the sweet smell waft through the room. All morning this plate sat in the open and when I came down from lunch there was not one single ant there. Not one! It had sat there for hours. I'm telling you, I'm the victim of ant hate crimes.
All that to say, my hatred of the ants surpasses anything else I could think about this week. Come the end of my contract here I'm moving to Iceland--according to wikipedia they don't have ants there.
That being said, there is one thing this week that has forced me away from neutrality, far from the even-keeled land of the alps. It induces rant after rant that poor Calah and Hannah have not heard the end of.
ants.
That is right. I live in a tropical country where I'm sure there are all sorts of large and dangerous creatures but I also live in a city of 6 million people. Bugs are not common. Cockroaches take only a few attempts with a shoe. As long as I'm viewing rats from a distance they kind of entertain me. But ants are the bane of my existence. It doesn't even take food: they love my tea, glasses of water, my computer screen and keyboard, anything. Everything.
You might think that ants are harmless, well, think again my friend. They are destructive to one's mental well-being and distracting while you work and in general a complete nuisance. More than that though, these 110 million year old terrorists are known to have colonized almost every landmass on Earth. Screw modern resource driven Imperialism, or the big-name colonizing nations of the 19th century, we need to protect ourselves from the ants!
And they threaten your health! Have you heard of Phantom Ant Syndrome?! Well in the case that you haven't heard of this made up yet devastatingly serious condition, let me tell you: you do not want to suffer from it. The symptoms include a tingling feeling along your arm in an ant like pattern. It then spreads: your legs, neck, in extreme cases even your hair. Can you imagine if you had an ant in your hair?! It could cling to a single follicle and live there forever! Most people may attribute this delusion as simply a manifestation of fear and exasperation and give it little attention. Which is what makes the following fact truly terrifying: approximately 1 in 6 times it is no figment of your imagination but an actual teeny tiny colonial invader crawling on your arm!
And what is the most infuriating is that I'm 100% positive the little devils are targeting me. For example, yesterday a co-worker brought donuts to work. I ate one and absentmindedly left the plate with a single crumb on my desk. Within the hour they had declared war. The area was swarming with the minuscule 6-legged soldiers, invading not only the target itself but taking the whole area under their control. I tried to quickly squelch them out by removing the plate, but it was too late. It took hours to fully reclaim my territory.
At the exact same time downstairs in the kitchen was an entire plate of donuts left on the table. They had been cut into bite size pieces, spreading the frosting around the plate and letting the sweet smell waft through the room. All morning this plate sat in the open and when I came down from lunch there was not one single ant there. Not one! It had sat there for hours. I'm telling you, I'm the victim of ant hate crimes.
All that to say, my hatred of the ants surpasses anything else I could think about this week. Come the end of my contract here I'm moving to Iceland--according to wikipedia they don't have ants there.
Friday, June 18, 2010
One Last Weekend Away
In keeping up with my monthly attempts to get out of the city, last week I went to Hue and Da Nang. I've been to both places before, but this time was with friends and instead of staying in Hue we went hiking in national park for a day, to the beach near Hue and to Da Nang. It was beautiful and a great change of pace from city living. Since I feel like my blog has been very word heavy recently, here are some pictures:
Sadly, this was probably the last trip I will take here in VN. But I guess that's okay because next month my trip will be to the US! Eck!
For a few more pictures and captions, go here.
For a few more pictures and captions, go here.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
It's hot.
You've probably heard me complain about this before. But you can only say it so many times to the people who are also experiencing center of the world worthy heat, so instead I'll just put it out there, into the face-less void that is the internet, as a fact: it is hot.
With the heat often comes annoyance. Let me tell you a little story.
This is something that has bothered me all year and I've actually contemplated doing a blog about it before. But it wasn't until this morning that it seemed absolutely imperative that the world know how frustrated I get on my morning commute.
In general, I have very little to complain about. Very little. Compared to others, my commute is nothing. Ten minutes on bicycle, twenty if I walk. I even get to go the wrong way down a one way street if I feel so inclined, which I often do; in part because it is more convenient and in part because I like feeling rebellious. Anyway, the annoying part comes before I get to that road. In fact, it is the part where I have to turn onto the wrong way road. It's the bridge.
A few blocks down there is a major road that goes over the river--a word which I use very loosely because it is a disgusting body of water that if it existed in China would be classified as "dead and stink", according to Derek--with enough room for at least 6 cars across, at least. And yet all the cars decide they want to come down my little bridge, which can fit two of the small taxis at one time. Maybe two normal size four-door cars with very slow manoeuvring and folded in mirrors. A SUV or, god-forbid one ever attempt it, a hummer, forget it.
Rush hour on the bridge seems to be around 7:30, so on days when I'm going to work just after 8 I'm never too worried about the traffic. But this week, maybe because of the heat, the cars are out in full force. And I swear all of them want to drive across my bridge. That fact in of itself is slightly annoying, but understandable. It is how Vietnamese handle the car traffic that drives me INSANE.
I dont love waiting in traffic. No one does. But, I cannot possible begin to understand the lack of foresight had by Vietnamese xe may drivers. Let's say for instance you are approaching a bridge with a line of 8 cars waiting to get across it and an obvious line waiting from the other side, with two cars in the middle apparently at a stand still. Do you:
A) zip up and realize only when you get to the car stand still that oh, there isn't any freakin' room to drive on the bridge
B) decide to bypass the whole system and drive down the sidewalk, in which your xe will scratch the sides of the bridge because it isn't big enough.
C) zip up and join the mass in the center of the bridge with the other xe mays that cannot get through and incessantly honk your horn.
D) wait patiently in the line of cars
I'll tell you now, Vietnamese would never, never ever ever, choose D. When it clearly would end up taking EVERYONE (except maybe the 5 xe may's that are lucky enough to squeeze between the cars) less time because the cars would be able to go across faster without the xe may's in the way. And if everyone waited their turn, then the intersections wouldn't be blocked during the green lights, and everyone would get to their destinations in a reasonable time.
Even with the bridge madness, it still only takes me a short while to get to work. So it is not the fact of being stuck in traffic that irks me, it is the fact that it wouldn't have to be so bad if people just used. their. brains.
And I know, I know. Cultural sensitivity. I am always talking about traffic here and how often its not bad, its just a different way of driving. It works, it flows, it's not as scary as it looks, blah blah blah. But it is so inefficient! Come on Vietnamese! Fix it! Your cars would not get as scratched. You would get to work faster. You wouldn't have to watch the little foreign girl on a bicycle start fuming with fury at your inadequate ability to think logically about traffic. Everyone would be happier in the mornings.
With the heat often comes annoyance. Let me tell you a little story.
This is something that has bothered me all year and I've actually contemplated doing a blog about it before. But it wasn't until this morning that it seemed absolutely imperative that the world know how frustrated I get on my morning commute.
In general, I have very little to complain about. Very little. Compared to others, my commute is nothing. Ten minutes on bicycle, twenty if I walk. I even get to go the wrong way down a one way street if I feel so inclined, which I often do; in part because it is more convenient and in part because I like feeling rebellious. Anyway, the annoying part comes before I get to that road. In fact, it is the part where I have to turn onto the wrong way road. It's the bridge.
A few blocks down there is a major road that goes over the river--a word which I use very loosely because it is a disgusting body of water that if it existed in China would be classified as "dead and stink", according to Derek--with enough room for at least 6 cars across, at least. And yet all the cars decide they want to come down my little bridge, which can fit two of the small taxis at one time. Maybe two normal size four-door cars with very slow manoeuvring and folded in mirrors. A SUV or, god-forbid one ever attempt it, a hummer, forget it.
Rush hour on the bridge seems to be around 7:30, so on days when I'm going to work just after 8 I'm never too worried about the traffic. But this week, maybe because of the heat, the cars are out in full force. And I swear all of them want to drive across my bridge. That fact in of itself is slightly annoying, but understandable. It is how Vietnamese handle the car traffic that drives me INSANE.
I dont love waiting in traffic. No one does. But, I cannot possible begin to understand the lack of foresight had by Vietnamese xe may drivers. Let's say for instance you are approaching a bridge with a line of 8 cars waiting to get across it and an obvious line waiting from the other side, with two cars in the middle apparently at a stand still. Do you:
A) zip up and realize only when you get to the car stand still that oh, there isn't any freakin' room to drive on the bridge
B) decide to bypass the whole system and drive down the sidewalk, in which your xe will scratch the sides of the bridge because it isn't big enough.
C) zip up and join the mass in the center of the bridge with the other xe mays that cannot get through and incessantly honk your horn.
D) wait patiently in the line of cars
I'll tell you now, Vietnamese would never, never ever ever, choose D. When it clearly would end up taking EVERYONE (except maybe the 5 xe may's that are lucky enough to squeeze between the cars) less time because the cars would be able to go across faster without the xe may's in the way. And if everyone waited their turn, then the intersections wouldn't be blocked during the green lights, and everyone would get to their destinations in a reasonable time.
Even with the bridge madness, it still only takes me a short while to get to work. So it is not the fact of being stuck in traffic that irks me, it is the fact that it wouldn't have to be so bad if people just used. their. brains.
And I know, I know. Cultural sensitivity. I am always talking about traffic here and how often its not bad, its just a different way of driving. It works, it flows, it's not as scary as it looks, blah blah blah. But it is so inefficient! Come on Vietnamese! Fix it! Your cars would not get as scratched. You would get to work faster. You wouldn't have to watch the little foreign girl on a bicycle start fuming with fury at your inadequate ability to think logically about traffic. Everyone would be happier in the mornings.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
A New Neighbor
Vietnam is generalized as a very communal culture. I don't want to go into whether it is or not, but knowing the simple fact that it this area of the world has that stereotype shaped my expectations for how people would be and how I would interact with them. On the whole, I would say that my experience has not fit the box of what I anticipated. Last night though, I had a very expectedly unusual experience.
A few weeks ago my family started talking about the new foreigner that moved into our neighborhood. Another 20-something American girl has moved in down the street with a Vietnamese family and everyone has been very excited for us to meet. Now, I think its great that she lives there and I was looking forward to meeting her, but it was kind of like my family was trying to set us up--I don't even want to know what they would have done if it had been an American boy, haha. Anyway, everyday they would ask if I wanted to meet her that day, and then for some reason or another it wouldn't work out. Often the time they wanted me to meet her I would have plans and when I was around and asked if I could go meet her I was always told, oh no, she'll come over here. But it just never happened.
So last night it was 9:30 and I was returning from dinner with friends. I was excited that I had got home in time to interact with my family for a bit before sleeping because I'd been gone all weekend (which I'll probably write a post about for you soon). But when I turned around to lock the gate behind me, there was a woman standing there, staring at me. I said hi and she starting telling me, in Vietnamese, that I should come meet the neighbor. Now, I haven't meet this woman before (turns out she is the house helper from the house) and was only half sure that I was understanding her correctly, but I figured, why not just follow her!? So I ran inside to tell my family where I was going and then followed a stranger to her house. She led me upstairs, sat me down very formally in the living room--which looked exactly like my family's---and then left me there while she went to get "the foreigner". I just sat, a bit unsure of what to do with myself, but just laughing all the while about being kidnapped by an older Vietnamese woman.
It was just a few moments before she came down and we finally got to meet. She is great! She's from Indiana and 25, here for just a couple months. I think we're going to try to start walking together (since activities are limited in our neighborhood and walking seems to be the cool thing to do!).
Overall, it was a very funny experience. That is more what I expected here, to know the people living around me and to just have awkward but social encounters all the time. And to be served a Pepsi at 10pm in a giant mug in a formal living room.
Our power just went out, so I guess I'm done writing now. Power going out has happened a lot recently. I guess its inevitable when its 90 out, but with humidity it feels like 107 so everyone uses AC. Let's hope it comes back soon....
A few weeks ago my family started talking about the new foreigner that moved into our neighborhood. Another 20-something American girl has moved in down the street with a Vietnamese family and everyone has been very excited for us to meet. Now, I think its great that she lives there and I was looking forward to meeting her, but it was kind of like my family was trying to set us up--I don't even want to know what they would have done if it had been an American boy, haha. Anyway, everyday they would ask if I wanted to meet her that day, and then for some reason or another it wouldn't work out. Often the time they wanted me to meet her I would have plans and when I was around and asked if I could go meet her I was always told, oh no, she'll come over here. But it just never happened.
So last night it was 9:30 and I was returning from dinner with friends. I was excited that I had got home in time to interact with my family for a bit before sleeping because I'd been gone all weekend (which I'll probably write a post about for you soon). But when I turned around to lock the gate behind me, there was a woman standing there, staring at me. I said hi and she starting telling me, in Vietnamese, that I should come meet the neighbor. Now, I haven't meet this woman before (turns out she is the house helper from the house) and was only half sure that I was understanding her correctly, but I figured, why not just follow her!? So I ran inside to tell my family where I was going and then followed a stranger to her house. She led me upstairs, sat me down very formally in the living room--which looked exactly like my family's---and then left me there while she went to get "the foreigner". I just sat, a bit unsure of what to do with myself, but just laughing all the while about being kidnapped by an older Vietnamese woman.
It was just a few moments before she came down and we finally got to meet. She is great! She's from Indiana and 25, here for just a couple months. I think we're going to try to start walking together (since activities are limited in our neighborhood and walking seems to be the cool thing to do!).
Overall, it was a very funny experience. That is more what I expected here, to know the people living around me and to just have awkward but social encounters all the time. And to be served a Pepsi at 10pm in a giant mug in a formal living room.
Our power just went out, so I guess I'm done writing now. Power going out has happened a lot recently. I guess its inevitable when its 90 out, but with humidity it feels like 107 so everyone uses AC. Let's hope it comes back soon....
Thursday, June 10, 2010
6 Weeks To Go
I will only be in Viet Nam for 6 more weeks. Thats it. Weird, yeah? In the last month alone I have gone from dreaming of a Vietnamese apartment to call my own and studying the language enough to be invited to star on Vietnamese television (a more realistic dream than one might imagine) to visualizing what it means to move home and bask in the glorious city of Portland that is currently experiencing a 20-something day rain streak in June (or Seattle, depending on which direction the employment wind is blowing). This switch in expectations is just short of shocking. It's amazing how much it changes, even in simply the way in which I understand the day-to-day.
6 weeks left and I am still surprised by things. For example, the waiter at the cafe I'm at is wearing roller skates.
really?
Or like yesterday, when I was driving and saw three men peeing on the side of the road side by side, without even the pretense of a bush or a river. Things like that shouldn't surprise me. But for some reason the communal nature of it caught me off guard.
The other day I found myself looking through old folders in my SPU email, reading emails I sent to my floor when I was an SMC and PA. I barely recognized myself, even though it was things I had written and was enthusiastic about. And that was just two years ago. I'd say two short years because it doesn't feel like that long ago, but I don't think they've been very short. Two well packed, decision filled years ago.
6 weeks to go.
And now here I am again, at the precipice of change and transition. In a year will I recognize the things I am writing and thinking now? Will the palm tree framed, xe may filled view of the giant apartment building that I am gazing at out of this cafe window with my too sweet cafe nau da feel like someone else's life? Am I way too melodramatic for my own good?
6 weeks to go.
I spend a lot of time these days thinking about the future. I dream of having a career, something I'm trained for, good at and really passionate about. I have some ideas. But I also have new ideas of what countries I want to live in and how I can go about getting there. What languages I should know. What issues I should start to invest in. What foods I should learn to cook when I'm making dinner for my parents to thank them for my free rent. What my speech at my best friend's wedding should be like.
6 weeks to go.
And then, just when I've thought myself into an emotional frenzy about all that the future will or will not entail, I remember: 6 weeks to go. For now I am here. I am learning. I am working. I am drinking a lot of coffee and riding my bike and being the cruise director for small children (they don't know it yet, but card houses are next on the activity list). And I'm enjoying it.
6 weeks to go.
6 weeks left and I am still surprised by things. For example, the waiter at the cafe I'm at is wearing roller skates.
really?
Or like yesterday, when I was driving and saw three men peeing on the side of the road side by side, without even the pretense of a bush or a river. Things like that shouldn't surprise me. But for some reason the communal nature of it caught me off guard.
The other day I found myself looking through old folders in my SPU email, reading emails I sent to my floor when I was an SMC and PA. I barely recognized myself, even though it was things I had written and was enthusiastic about. And that was just two years ago. I'd say two short years because it doesn't feel like that long ago, but I don't think they've been very short. Two well packed, decision filled years ago.
6 weeks to go.
And now here I am again, at the precipice of change and transition. In a year will I recognize the things I am writing and thinking now? Will the palm tree framed, xe may filled view of the giant apartment building that I am gazing at out of this cafe window with my too sweet cafe nau da feel like someone else's life? Am I way too melodramatic for my own good?
6 weeks to go.
I spend a lot of time these days thinking about the future. I dream of having a career, something I'm trained for, good at and really passionate about. I have some ideas. But I also have new ideas of what countries I want to live in and how I can go about getting there. What languages I should know. What issues I should start to invest in. What foods I should learn to cook when I'm making dinner for my parents to thank them for my free rent. What my speech at my best friend's wedding should be like.
6 weeks to go.
And then, just when I've thought myself into an emotional frenzy about all that the future will or will not entail, I remember: 6 weeks to go. For now I am here. I am learning. I am working. I am drinking a lot of coffee and riding my bike and being the cruise director for small children (they don't know it yet, but card houses are next on the activity list). And I'm enjoying it.
6 weeks to go.
Monday, June 7, 2010
No Electricity, No Outside, No Fun?
Last night I escaped work right before a torrential downpour. I am indebted to Co Bay and her offhanded remark that it looked like it's going to rain for my dry ride home. Recently, I have learned the hard way that when the rain starts it doesn't mess around; this is no Oregon rain, it's the start in 30-seconds, soaked all the way through before you even have time to seek out shelter kind. So Co Bay's remark kicked me into gear: I quickly gathered my things, shut down my computer and took off for home. Luckily, I live close by because in the ten minute ride the sky's ominous shade of gray crept closer to the city. Seriously, when I turned on to my street it was still sunny. By the time I had the bike in the house, the wind had picked up and the road was speckled from a few drops. By the time I got up one flight of stairs, the downpour had began.
I always expect rain like that to last for only a short while, but so far my experience has been that it is quite unpredictable. Sometimes it comes and goes, sometimes it lasts all night. Last night was the later. Now, a little (or a big) rain doesn't really hurt anyone, so the rain itself was fine. That is, until the power went out. My host siblings reported that it had already been out at my house for most of the day, came back for a little, then went out again.
Imagine with me for a moment. The kids are on summer vacation. It is too hot (well, that point could--and should---be argued, but we'll just go with according to them) to play outside and there has been no electricity all day--no computer, no tv. Fortunately they just purchased a bunch of new books, so I can only imagine they spent a lot of the day reading. But now they don't have electric options or enough light to read by, or even the option to go outside because of the rain (another point that could be argued, but I just kind of go with it).They were going crazy!
I tried everything I could to find something to entertain myself and them. I don't know why, but I was in a need to be active kind of mood. They wouldn't play games with me, so I went for a walk in the rain, which was boring. Then I decided I would play the piano for a bit, which turned into all three of us playing different things at once. I HATE competing noises, so that didn't last long. By this time they were bickering over any little thing and before I knew it, Vang was crying in the corner.
Now in the US, if a 7 year old was crying, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. After assessing that she isn't injured, you say an encouraging word or two and then distract her with something new to do. But here, for whatever cultural reason, crying is not okay, so when she does cry it is a major break down, in a silent, inaccessible kind of way. She hid in the chair for the next hour, refusing to talk to anyone or be consoled in any way. I tried everything I could think of to engage her, meanwhile, Co Hue, while not consoling Vang, kept repeating what a horrible brother Minh is for making his sister cry (fights are never one-sided...), Chu Hung played on his phone and ignored the entire situation and Minh sat and stared at the wall, refusing to engage in any activity either. Eventually I remembered that someone had recently given me a bag of balloons, so I brought those down along with a sharpie so we could make balloon faces--just call me the family cruise director.
Minh and I entertained ourselves for a bit, while Vang continued to cry. Not even balloon people could get her attention! We then moved onto a rousing game of balloon badminton, which was picking up right as the power returned.
And just like that, the house returned to its normal routine: Chinese soap-operas, fans, second dinner and all.
The evening, while being entertaining in a very odd kind of way, made me think: why is it that I couldn't find anything to do? Without being able to read, watch tv, or go for a walk, I was completely boggled as how to amuse myself. That seems like a lesson I would've learned in moving to a developing country. And yet, I felt even more stuck here than I would have at home.
I guess that is why you can't predict the things you are going to learn in different periods of life. For now, I'll just accept it as a fact that I lead a very silly life here. And tonight I will be grateful for the electricity :)
I always expect rain like that to last for only a short while, but so far my experience has been that it is quite unpredictable. Sometimes it comes and goes, sometimes it lasts all night. Last night was the later. Now, a little (or a big) rain doesn't really hurt anyone, so the rain itself was fine. That is, until the power went out. My host siblings reported that it had already been out at my house for most of the day, came back for a little, then went out again.
Imagine with me for a moment. The kids are on summer vacation. It is too hot (well, that point could--and should---be argued, but we'll just go with according to them) to play outside and there has been no electricity all day--no computer, no tv. Fortunately they just purchased a bunch of new books, so I can only imagine they spent a lot of the day reading. But now they don't have electric options or enough light to read by, or even the option to go outside because of the rain (another point that could be argued, but I just kind of go with it).They were going crazy!
I tried everything I could to find something to entertain myself and them. I don't know why, but I was in a need to be active kind of mood. They wouldn't play games with me, so I went for a walk in the rain, which was boring. Then I decided I would play the piano for a bit, which turned into all three of us playing different things at once. I HATE competing noises, so that didn't last long. By this time they were bickering over any little thing and before I knew it, Vang was crying in the corner.
Now in the US, if a 7 year old was crying, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. After assessing that she isn't injured, you say an encouraging word or two and then distract her with something new to do. But here, for whatever cultural reason, crying is not okay, so when she does cry it is a major break down, in a silent, inaccessible kind of way. She hid in the chair for the next hour, refusing to talk to anyone or be consoled in any way. I tried everything I could think of to engage her, meanwhile, Co Hue, while not consoling Vang, kept repeating what a horrible brother Minh is for making his sister cry (fights are never one-sided...), Chu Hung played on his phone and ignored the entire situation and Minh sat and stared at the wall, refusing to engage in any activity either. Eventually I remembered that someone had recently given me a bag of balloons, so I brought those down along with a sharpie so we could make balloon faces--just call me the family cruise director.
Minh and I entertained ourselves for a bit, while Vang continued to cry. Not even balloon people could get her attention! We then moved onto a rousing game of balloon badminton, which was picking up right as the power returned.
And just like that, the house returned to its normal routine: Chinese soap-operas, fans, second dinner and all.
The evening, while being entertaining in a very odd kind of way, made me think: why is it that I couldn't find anything to do? Without being able to read, watch tv, or go for a walk, I was completely boggled as how to amuse myself. That seems like a lesson I would've learned in moving to a developing country. And yet, I felt even more stuck here than I would have at home.
I guess that is why you can't predict the things you are going to learn in different periods of life. For now, I'll just accept it as a fact that I lead a very silly life here. And tonight I will be grateful for the electricity :)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Two Pictures
Last week Max returned from India. With him came a plethora of pictures from the week that Calah and I were there. I thought I would share two with you that bring me a lot of joy :)
Predictably and very entertain-ly, learning how to wear a head scarf:
Predictably and very entertain-ly, learning how to wear a head scarf:
And, also predictable and entertaining, dancing. Because that is what I love. And this picture is hilarious. Well, in my opinion at least :)
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