Hanoi Journal

Chapter 8...Autobiographies of Hanoi

2008-12-18T19:25:00.000-08:00

Chapter 8…Autobiographies of Hanoi

In America, after WW II was over, there was an explosion of births between 1945-1950; “The Baby Boomers,” of which me and my siblings are part of. In Vietnam, after that war ended in 1975, there was a similar birth boom for the next 10 years. 70% of the population of Vietnam are under 35. Whereas our baby boomers were born into a prospering economy, Vietnamese boomers were born into a country that was racked with devastation, hunger and want.

Most of my students, were born between 1975-85 and the first assignment I give them is to write a brief autobiography. It serves two purposes; to assess their level of writing and to help me get to know them as individuals. Almost all of them tell about how hard their parents struggled after the war, the war they call “The American War.”

Here, in their own words are their stories. I present them here, just as they wrote them. You will see various degrees of fluency…but more, you will see Vietnam in those early post-war years.

The first presented here was written by Huong, the girl who wrote the letter of encouragement mentioned in chapter 2. She was the first student I had who “graduated,” to our higher classes and was given the name Ruth by Morris after her choice.

Huong's Autobiography:

Sunday July 11, 2004

I’m sorry for not sending my auto. on time . this is it .
IT seems not much of an autobiography . It is merely what I want to say to you.
Well, I don’t know where I should start .
I was born on January, 30th , 1984 into a middle class family. Both of my parents are teachers in high schools. My hometown is a small city which is 90 kilometers away from Hanoi. It takes you 4 hours to travel around the city, I suppose. We left for Hanoi 16 years ago. Sometimes, we go back to see our relatives in Thai Nguyen ( my home town ) by bus, by train, or by motorbike. Normally, Hanoi - Thai Ngueyn is a 2 hour trip. You can't drive with breakneck speed because the police will stop you and ask for your driver's license.
I’m a young person . But I look older than my age. Although 20 years is not a long time , I've experienced the fruits of life. they are sometimes sweet, but sometimes bitter and sour.
My mother is a Hanoi Ian. She graduated form Hanoi National Univ. She was sent to a high school in Thai Nguyen to teach. MY father worked there before. They met each other and fell in love. They got married in 1982. That time ( from 1982 to 1995)was a difficult time for a young couple. There were many burdens because Vietnam was in the period of changes. Life is so hard. Earning meals and necessary demands became strains. For each child , we were rationed a bottle of milk and a kilo of sugar. I was too small to know how hard my parents worked. Grandma told me..... They had to do extra work. They brought garments and the cigarettes home , wrapped up until midnight- everyday. My mother also worked at a hairdresser's and sewed clothes . My father took photos. they had to worry about their new born child - my bother in 1987.
When they decided to move to Hanoi, looking for a better life , my mom and my brother went first. I continued living in a living quarter with my father. He went to school and cooked the meals. I started to learn how to wash dishes 'n clean the house when I was 5 .Time passed.... They were such happy days when my mom and my brother came to see us. in the beginning of 1990s my papa and I came to Hanoi to live with mom and my brother. 4 people lived in a 30 sq. meter house. And we faced with another difficult period. My parents continued with extra work they had done in Thai Nguyen: sewing clothes, taking photos and working at hairdresser's... When all the work could not satisfy the demands for life, we tried in other ways.... We bought second hand clothes from many foreign countries and sold them to people. in the afternoon I brought 2 reed mats to the sidewalks , put the clothes on them and classified them into types and prices...
There were many people who sold clothes like us on the street. The police didn’t want us to do so . They arranged troops of cars to collect clothes. When somebody saw the police , they would shout to everybody and we moved quickly with clothes and mats. I did it with my parents. After selling second hand clothes , we began a new job - selling sweetened porridge. My parents cooked and I helped them to sell on a small place on the sidewalks. Life is really hard.
But these petty things couldn’t defeat us. We kept our ambition...... and worked hard. .I learned to cook , to wash clothes for the whole family and do housework when I was 8 maybe younger. That's why we treasure our life. Like Hung ( a refugee` who is now an American citizen) said, Vietnamese people have a strong survival instinct . We work hard , we value food and drink, accommodations... and we find it easy to sympathize with poor people because we know how hard they have it.
NOW life is more and more comfortable and we are not poor( not rich), but we have had such a hard time to live.
Everybody has their own worries and I don’t want to bother them. I just want to share with you my childhood 'n my life… life is in our hands. The crucial thing is you yourself. Forgiveness , tolerance and ability to forget small unimportant things are your strength.
Your Student
HUONG

Huong, who was a sophomore at Hanoi Univ. of Technology (HUT), majored in English. Her level of English, when she wrote this was between upper-intermediate and advanced. I divide my students into 5 skill levels: (1) beginner, (2) lower intermediate, (3) intermediate, (4) upper-intermediate, and (5) advanced. The next autobiography is by Mai, who was lower intermediate. You can understand what she means but much of her syntax and grammar are faulty. I am leaving it here just as she wrote it.

Mai’s Autobiography…

My name is Nguyen Thanh Mai. I was born on October, 30th 1979 in a poor officer family in Hanoi. My parent told that when I were born, my family is so poor that there were no rice, no milk, no food unless sweet potato in my home. But at that time, no one can helped my family because they were also poor, some of them were even poorer than my family. My parent have 2 children, my litter brother and I. My father is intelligent and strict while my mother is so gentle. They both love their children. When I was I litter girl my parent used to say to my brother and I that: �We are so poor that we can bring you neither delicious food nor nice clothes but we try our best to earn money for you to go to school. My children, please remember that there are no way to become rich unless learning�. Now, my family is not poor but my father often say that �my daughter, do not satisfy with what you have, keep working and learning if you don not want to let behind the development of society�.
I love my father, my mother and my litter brother very much. They are always present in time of my need. They are my first love. I love them so much that I can sacrifice everything I have for them.
My second love is a dog which I feed. I named him A Bear because he is black, very big and looks like a bear. Some of my friends saw him and thought that he was a real bear. However, he is very clever, friendly, harmless and as meek as a lamb. He loves me very much. I love him, too. I used to embrace him and said to him �my Bear, I wish you were a man�. My mother laughed at me and said how silly I were.
The third time I felt in love with a really man. He looks tall and handsome. I like him at the first time I saw him. I made friend with him and I found that we had same hobby and viewpoint. He is really intelligent, kind, humorous and manly. And above all, He loves dogs very much. I have felt in love with him just after several time talking with him. Happily, he loves me, too. One year after being lover, we got married. Now, I have my new family. We have not got any child yet and we are looking forward to have one soon. My husband and I try to work to make our life better. We love each other and love everything we have. We feel lucky and happy to be husband and wife. We also feel lucky to live in Vietnam, a friendly and peaceful country with many good traditions such as: patriotic, venerating teacher and crazy on learning.
In addition, Vietnamese people love peace and freedom and ready sacrifice their own lives to fight for it. I proud of being Vietnamese citizen.

It is not unusual for students to study 2 foreign languages at the same time. Here, Thu Huong explains why she must learn German and English. She attended the top high school in Hanoi, Amsterdam HS which requires an entrance exam and all the instruction is in English. Most of the students who graduate from Amsterdam are the cream of the Hanoi crop. Thu Huong tells a common tale; parents too busy to spend much time with their children so grandparents do most of the childcare and raising.

____________________________________________________
Autobiography of Thu Huong

My name is Bui Thu Huong. I was born in Hanoi in 1979. I live in Tran Quang Dieu street. I am the youngest member of the family. There were 5 people in my family: my grandmother, my mum and dad, and my brother, who is 2 years older than me.
When I was small, my parents were scientists at the Vietnamese Academy of Science and Technology. We lived in a flat in the collective quarter of the Academy in Hoang Quoc Viet Street. At that time, my brother and I were not healthy. We could easily fall ill, and had to take medicine all the time. So my parents didn’t let us go to the kintergarden like other kids in the collective quarter. Instead, my grandmother took care of us. And because my parents were always busy at their office, they didn’t have much time to stay home with us. My brother and I spent most of our time with my grandmother.
In 1985, when I was 6 years old, my parents bought a new house, and we moved out of the collective quarter. Then I went to the local primary school at the new place, not far from my house, just a 2 minute-walk . It was called the Thong Nhat Primary and Secondary School, a small school in Doi Can Street. I was so timid at that time because I had never gone to kindergarten. I was afraid of going to school, meeting many people or standing in front of the whole class. Gradually I got used to it and began to love my school. Finally I became the monitor (president) of the class. Again, my parents were too busy. Thus, my brother had to help me with my homework. I spent 9 years at the Thong Nhat Primary and Secondary School, until 1994, when I graduated. Also in this year, my mother died of cancer. That was really the worst thing ever happen in my life. There were only 4 persons left in my family.
My senior secondary school was Hanoi – Amsterdam High School which is located in Nam Cao street. It’s a specialized School in Hanoi. In 3 years from 1994 to 1997 I studied in the English specialized class. There was an international school next to my high school, so we often met and played with foreign students, which was very interesting and was good chances for us to practice English. I graduated from Hanoi – Amsterdam High School in 1997. During these three years, many great changes happened to my family. My brother went to study in Texas, USA in 1997. Later that year, my father remarried and moved out of the house. From this time on, I lived with my grandmother.
In 1998, I began my university study. I spent 5 years at Hanoi University of Foreign Trade, studying economics, foreign trade, and business English. Studying at the University was really hard. It was much more difficult than studying at the primary and secondary school. I had to change the way of learning, did more reading, more homework, and more research. My most difficult subject at university actually was gymnastics. However, I was finally able to graduate from the university in 2002.
From August 2002, I worked for the sales department of a joint stock company. Its name was The Investment and Construction Commerce Joint Stock Company. The company engaged in various fields including construction, real estate, and foreign trade. My department dealt with importing and selling chemical substances, laboratory materials and machines. The job was really complicated as it related greatly to chemistry and physics. In addition, you had to be patient and very careful because the goods ordered were precise to every milligram or millilitre, and even some chemical substances were very dangerous. Moreover, I also had to travel a lot due to the customs formalities and the delivery of goods. I was so busy at work that I didn’t have enough time to take care of my grandmother, who was really over 80.
In 2004, I decided to spend more time with my grandmother and to prepare for my postgraduate study. I quit my job and began studying German. It was for my master study in Germany, which requires certain level both in German and in English. Since I finished my German course early this year , I’ve been preparing to take the Toelf course.

In the last semester that I taught in Hanoi, before coming home to take care of my mother in Mar. 2007, I had an exceptional “C-level,” class which are students at upper-intermediate and advanced levels. In this class, the caliber of autobiographies was pretty high. Here is Huyen Tam’s autobiography.

Huyen Tam’s Autobiography…C-2007

Before starting doing this assignment - write my autobiography , I felt
slack in writing and thought that I couldn't do anything well without
inspiration ... Furthermore, I found out lots of reasons for delay the
assignment. But, by contrast, I find this very interesting, fascinating.
Although, I don't write either much or nicely, I feel very warm as
I sit back and have a better time in order to think of my family.

My family has 4 people, including my parents, my elder sister and me -
a typical example of a modern nuclear family. My father was brought up
in Nghe An central province. After he had graduated at a university, he
was sent Hon Gai town ( Ha Long city nowadays ) to work. Because at that
time, Vietnam and America were still at war. Vietnam's economy was
centrally planned. In that period, everybody was dispensed from a needle
to cloth or food, etc. That's why like other people , my father didn't have
the right to decide where to work or whom to work form. During his period
of working and living in Ha Long city, he casually met my mother.
There is an old saying that: " you can't tell a book by its cover".
As my father's telling, she didn't look beautiful by appearance . However,
she possesses good qualities and has a great inner
beauty. (^..^) But my father's from time to time kinda complainted about her
jealousness. They were in love with each other and married on January
1st in 1981. At the end of the year, my sister was born without my father's
care until 1985. Because he was away from home in order to take another
long-term course in Ha Noi at the time. Luckier than my sister, as my
father had finished his study and got back to Ha Long, I was
brought into the world in 1987, a year later " Doi moi " reform in
Vietnam. We don't have a lot in common, rather we are very different
to each other from appearance to interests, personalities. For instance,
I'm fond of swimming, dancing, jogging. She likes none of sport...pretty
lazy to excersice. She spends much time on reading Fashion magazine,
shopping, etc. On the contrary, I care far less for that than
learning new things. Black and white which are 2 contrary colors, still
are a good match. So, when we both are adults, we not only
understand deeper but also care a lot more for each other. Now she's 26
years old. She lives at home with my parents. She has a job with a stable
pay. As far as I know , she was in love with 3 men. There were
many reasons to break up. I consider that she did the right things
because I don’t want to have a brother-in-law like one of them. She's
currently single and getting old...that's why my parents are worried
about her. (^..^)

As I said above, I was born as my father was at home. I was the
smallest in my family so that I was a little more humoured than my sister
(^..^) and became quite stubborn. I was closer to my father when I
was a little girl until I started my live away from home . Therefore,
my father's characters, habits partly had an effect on me.
Unlike most of other kids, I began school a year sooner than them. When
I was in the fifth grade, I looked like a boy with very short hair.
By appearance, I seemed to be pretty reticent and quiet. But, on
my brain, I actually had a question which was how could my mother love
my father only and conversely ? Because I liked 3 cute boys in my class.
Yesterday, I like this one who was considered as the most handsome in
my class. The following days I didn't like him anymore and started much
more talking to another one who sat next to. In conclusion, my
' love affair ' lasted longest in less than a week. Also, all results of
my study were just so-so in primary school as the fact was that my parents
didn't care as much for my study as they should.
However, things were changed when I started junior high school. Fortunately,
I had a friend, ( Lien- my closefriend ), to compete with in study. After
the first year , we were in top 2 of class. My parents began
distinguishing my ability and paid much more attention to my study. Since
that time, I enjoyed studying maths and some subjects of natural
sciences. In the last year, I spent more time on studying and passed
the entrance exam of the only gifted high school in Ha Long.

Luckily, I'm rich in happy memories. However, it's hard to tell precisely
what the happiest one is . So, I'm going to tell you about a memory associated
with my closefriend , Loan. We were 2 first-year students in a room of 10
in hostel. We hadn't known each other previous to getting here, Ha Noi.
We became closer after a short time...before our final exam started few days ,
I'd had a fever. I still remember her care for my health. I would never forget
her worried face as she wanted to do something in order to help me get better...
but she lacked experience to look after the sick. she did spend a sleepless
night on watching my sleep ...I was really happy to be cared and be loved
by her.

Let me share with you though I do know that I'm digressing. I want to
touch on my views instead of my saddest memory. Many people
prefer taking or recieving something such as gifts...It sounds
uncommon to hear that I feel inversely. I feel happier to give. I like
bringing happiness to my parents, friends, teachers... or giving nice
surprises to them . In my opinions, once I help people and make them
happy without conditions, they would do good deeds for others .There is a
simple saying which I like very much :'let share to be shared '. The world
would be better if we didn't keep things to ourselves and were open with
others.

The next autobiography was written by a gifted 16-year-old in the “C” class, Jade. After her junior year of high school, a year after Jade wrote this, she got a scholarship to come to America and finish her senior year at Kingsford High School in Tenn. She is currently in her freshman year at BYU in Provo, Utah.

My autobiography Jade
I’d like to start my autobiography with the self introduction : My name is Nguyen Ha My, people usually call me Jade, my English name. People describe me in many ways , each one has one side right , but I will give u here the avarage description of my appearance, a 1m62 girl with long black hair, just quite pretty face , and friendly. I hope u will find it the same when u see me and talk to me in person.

My childhood was cemented with many awesome memories along with my whole family including grandparents, uncles, my parents two more brothers , my brother and I. We used to live in a large house designed in a classical French architecture. While parents were busy with their work, all kids gathered to play hide and seek, rode bicycles on the streets. Every afternoon , we were obsessed with climbing up trees, picking fruits in sneak and eating them even still sticking upon the tree until we got full then came home and told lies to my parents that we had just played with flowers so the dust had clung on our faces and our hands. I still remember not only the taste of early morning air when we got up to do exercies but the pure feelings coming from breezes in the late evening when we rode our bicycles around on the pavement. On Tet holiday( a tradditional New Year occasion in Vietnam) the slightly cold weather with drizzle made me so excited and contented. We sat around to talk, to wait for the first Square cake to be cooked.I was always so excited that I couldn’t sleep , just thought of having a bath in the special weed with a nice smell.

At 12 years old, my big family got into trouble in finance, we couldn’t live on each other and stay there anylonger. All the family( the adults) decided to sell the old house with regret and each member had to find himself a new one. We left the house with all sadness and regret but as people say: “ come what it may” We finally moved to a new smaller one in the classical street in Hanoi. Having so upset because of having no friends while mom and dad were always away from home, I started to be absorbed in studying and found it so interesting. With the little knowledge I had acquired when teaching myself, I went to my secondary school and soon became confident and more interested in learning.

It was such a luck that my new house was near the lake so I used to walk alone or sometimes with my friends , which was the most enjoyable habbit making me relax and it is still being kept until now. Besides, I loved riding my bike around some streets near by which helps me feel less lonely and at least, I found this place quite interesting. Later then, I soon became an amateur “ explorer” an spent two hours a day finding new roads, letting myself lost and trying to come back the start until the cows come home. After one afternoon being expressed, I returned home and wrote all my description in a diary with the thought that It would be my will for my offsprings! One of my best friends for ever is my dad, he poured into me the love for this life and pepole around me with a warm heart. My father and I used to sit around to talk for hours, he told me about his bussiness trips , his deep knowledge and life experience expressed me much.
One event in my life that had changed me a lot and given me a great lesson was that:
Once in the winter afternoon, while walking around with my girlfriend in the Square 10/5 , we ran into a stranger , an old man with a skinny and moody appearance. He was sitting there with depressing eyes full of paint, looking through the air. “ so sad” I though and felt sorry for him, He looked so miserable, but he didn’t seem to be a beggar . No one told, I wanted to help him and came to talk to him. We kept talking and knew that he had been upset about his children, they competed and tried to take the lion’s share in his inheritance. After that, every afternoon , when finishing my school, I came there to talk to him. As a very small girl, I told him about evrything, even my little trouble in my daily routine, My quite , levelheaded and imperturbable friend always sat there , listened to me carefully with affectionate eyes. Time passed and the chances I got to visit him became so slight. I didn’t see him nearly for a month. One day, when nohing could delay from visiting him, I returned with an glinting thought that we would compensate for him. But It was too late, he had gone away without any clue, nowhere could we find our olf friend. We went to the stations, bus stops but all came into nothing. I stood there, felt like my heart falling down to my stomach and burst into tears. That was the moment I had to regret most for what I had done. Since then, I have had no chance to see my friend anylonger, the person who had ever said to us that “ I wish to have grandchildren like u. I would be so proud of !” .

At the age of 16, I attended foreign language specialing school, had new friends, new teachers which made me anxious. Finally, I got familiar with everything and became independent in my thoughts. One of my favourites is learning History, following historical events and analysing them attracted me a lot, I usually asked myself many questions such as “ If I were there at that time, what would I do” , “ How can I change the present now, It’s impossible” all of which helped me live in harmony with the present and love my life much more.
One day, I returned the square and the corner near the fountain, I realised that there were still a lot of things in my life I had to try harder to get and then when looking back, I would not regret . I told myself that I need to try my best to fulfill my dream not only for me, for my family but for one more person , my old friend, who is now somewhere in the world or maybe not will smile with me in satisfaction.

Mai Thuy was one of the most motivated students I had. She tried very hard in spite of not having a gift for language like other girls.

The autobiography of Mai Thuy…C-2007

I was born in peaceful and quiet village. At that time my family is very poor, I lived in my parents 's love and felt happy. I am a small girl of very few words and my parents called me Kitty that mean "small cat". I love this name.
Everything changed since my father got a sirious desease he became a hot_tempered person and was allways geting angry. At that time my mother had a baby boy. The baby is a pretty and lovely boy and intelligent and restless also. My mother wanted to spent time to look after my farther so my brother and I lived with my grandparents. In morning, I went to primary school in village and in the afternoon I went to a field to feed the water-buffalo.
On this field the kids and I used to fly kites in the wind summer afternoon . My childhood bound up with sweet memory.
When I went to secondary school my father recovered from illness, he had to go away to earn money. He wanted my family had a comfortable life. I went to Son Tay town to study and say goodbye with peaceful village. At school , I tried to learn well because I wanted my parents pride of me. My father rarely went home and I could meet him 4 or 5 times a year. My mother was always busy. Sometime I felt lonely but I knew all things they did because of their love they spent for my brother and I.
15 years old I failed the entrance examination to go to Hanoi National University.
I learnt in high school in town with wonderful class. I have sweet memory in here. I had my fist love when I was 18 years old. He is my classmate. He is very intelligent but very mischievous...I didn't know it is love or not. But I always missed him so much...I went to National Economic University with the memory of my fist love. It was a sad memory???
My grandfather passed away, I could'n meet him the last time before he died. His sudden death is emotional shock with me...I went to Hanoi after my grandfather's funeral. I need a friend besides me I wish I could cry on someone's shoulder...but nobody. Maybe someday I meet my true love.

This girl, Minh Trang, does a little apple polishing at the end of her autobiography…

Autobiography of Cat Minh Trang… “C-Class)

My name is Trang, and my family’s name is Cát. Many people say that :”I’ve never heard your surname before,it’s really strange” This made me proud and happy. According to my grandfather, he said that the origin of this surname is Mac.As a political reason,it was change into Cat. My full name is CAT MINH TRANG.
In autumn of October of 1984 , the weather was cool, my mother was cooking , suddenly, she feel in labour, she tried her best to call my father and imediately he came back home to take my mother to A maternity hospital.After time , she gave a birth in the evening. A litlle baby is me. I was the oldest of 2 children. My younger sister is 12 years younger than I. My mother was pregnant late from when I was born because my family is in difficult before ,so my parents didn’t want to have more kids. I still remember that day when I was reported by cousin that my mother was being pregnant . I was very surprised and happy and little afraid of that my parents wouldn’t love me as much as baby. And then I asked my mother that I would still be loved ? Many people joked me “They will not don’t care you and they want good things such as cakes, sweets belongs baby, not you” Sometimes I cried for things, but now it makes me smile and happy for those.
I’ve lived and smiled , enjoyed and come into life for 22 years. The life bring me many happiness and also many sadness . I am more determined to become meaning person when I see poor people or old beggars with hard faces . Easily smile at little things I meet, I see around in the morning . So my friends say that” you are romantic”. The romantic person may be easily disappointed with things not as she expects. May be…
In free time , I always listen to music especially when the lights go out , close my eyes to enjoy melodies. Sometimes , I read famous classical novels , or go around by bicycle alone .
I have black eyes , brown skin , wavy naturally hair .I’m a small girl , it’s disadvantage point to apply some jobs required height , especially banking. I’ve studied in academy of bank , at 4th year . It’s last year of student , pupil to come into adult next period. This university is not my choice when I went out high school . My first choice was medical university. My dream is that become a doctor . But , my will (may be is also ability) is not enough to turn my dream into reality , even may be unselfconfident . Although I won 1 sty prize in biology for pupil of all Ha no high schools , but I think it’s lucky not my ability because I didn’t spend much time studying for it . Sometimes when you understand your self too much is not good, you easily lose faith in you. It’s was very strange , I had never dreamed , thought that I would pass medical university , and it happened. I failed that exam and the third I took exam, the result is like the first time although with high marks ,because of too high standard mark of medical university. The second year , I registered 2 university, they were medical university and academy of bank . Ones is B group with 3 subjects: moths, chemistry, biology. Ones is A group with moths, physics , chemistry. Finally, I passed the second not dreamed ones with surprising mark . The third , although I was studding in second ones , I still tried to drill in subjects of B group. But , I still failed. Every time I remember these things , I feel pity for not trying my best to fulfill my dream. Or dream never comes true? It comes true when you aren’t non cease-afford. You muster up all your strength . Until now , I really don’t do meaning things that I am proud .I always think I’ll but my action is contradictory . My actions show me wreaked-will. When you lived with wreaked- will or without will , you are not to be.( base on “ to be or not to be”). In my heart has little fire but I can’t burn it up. Now , I am on the way to find myself and try to do my best to become active, dynamic citizen belong 1980s generation.

Dear teacher!!!
I have not ever heard name like you-Goss, but David is popular name that I ‘vet known in English books in Viet Nam . But the first lesson you taught , I don’t remember exactly your speaking but I understand that you always want us to keep our faith in our heart ,”smile on your face” “ never give up”. Although I see things too much ,when you talk those I realize I don’t really understand them before . You’re right , we and yourself is teacher of ours, you are like our parents and only push up us. I hope through your lesson I will be better and then best that I am able to become by my endeavors . The teacher not only gives our knowledge , but also teach us to become real person .
Wish you :good health , happy in life and teaching career and success in journalist, love teaching , keep smile on your face .It’s beautiful and nice. Your smile made us happy.!!!

Thu Hien, like so many of the young women in Hanoi, are not only focused on English but on finding love also…not just any love but “truth love”!

My AutoBiography…Thu Hien…C-2007

I was born in Ha Tay, at the end of spring when “Gao” flowers bloom blazing red.
My family has 5 people : my parents, my older sister, my older brother and me. My sister has married and had a daughter. She is 3 years old. They live near my house and at weekend they visit us. I am living with my parents and my brother’ s family. My brother has married, too. He has a 2 year-old son.
My sister is older than me 10 ages and my brother older than me 8 ages. That is the reason why I can’t confide to them, when I growth up, they have had their own family so they are very busy, they hardly have time for me. If we talk together, they only care about my study. About my parents, they are retired.They are really good parents, they sacrificed their life for us and I am really respectful what they do for us. But they are only parents, they can’t become friends with me. I can’t tell them about my thought or my problems. Sometimes I feel alone in my family. However, I have some friends who always listen to me and share me many problems. I love them very much.
When I was 3 years old, my family moved to Hanoi. At that moment , my house was small, it was 10 square metre but it was an interesting place. Neighbours were very kind and friendly. Especilly, there were many children in there and I spent a wonderful childhood with them. Every evening we gathered in the small yard in front of my house, we played many games. For example : hide and seek, police catch spies and so on. I remember that we liked to have take a bath in the rain very much, wore clothes to bath, both boys and girls, to play while bathing. Beside, we pretended to hold Miss World. I even was very sad and cried and cried because I was not became Miss World. What is a funny!
When it was occasion like mid-autumn or Tet, we holded parties, we sang and danced. What is an enjoyable! I will never forget that time.
When I was 11 years old, my family moved again to other place. It was a block. When I lived there, I was very boring. Every neighbour rarely opened their door. After school, I came back home and played alone. It was very sad at that time.
When I was 18 years old, I failed the exam entrance University. It was the sadest time for me. I had to stay at home for 1 year while my friends went to school. I was really sad because made my parent disappointed and worried about my future. I hardly want to meet my friends, I felt very shame. However, every things was ok when I passed the exam in next year. I became more happy and had some close friends. And I met a guy, he was leader of basketball, I like him but he didn’t pay attention to me, this made me sad for 1 week. What’s funny but it was the truth, After only 1 week, I hardly remember him. Perhap because it was not truth love.
Afterward, I met some guys and they loved me but I loved nobody. I don’t know why but I didn’t feel stirred. Then my friends have sweetheart, I was still lonely. Every Saturday night, they went with their partner and I stayed at home to watch T.V. It was very sad. I want to have boyfreind, too but it was difficult for me to love someone. Why is that? I don’t know. As a result I was lonely during 5 years in University.
But one day, love came to me. That day, I met him when I traveled with my sister’s company. He is my sister’s coworker. At beginning, I didn’t pay attention to him at all. But when came back, he sent me messages and we become friend. I feel very self-confident and comfortable when talk with him. Gradually I fall in love with him. Finally, he said that he love me. That is great , I waited this for a long time and I’m really happy. But my happy didn’t last long, he has to go abroad to work for 2 years. At that moment I am really disappointed. 2 years is too long to wait. There are many things will change for 2 years. But I decided that I will wait him. At first, I missed him so much. Althought we still chat together , it is very different. I have to go to parties alone. When I have a problem, he is not beside me. When I feel sad, he is not here. But I get used to his absence gradually. I took a part into alone club where everybody have not yet sweetheart or their sweetheart go to abroad like me. We often gather to play cards or go to cineme or go to karaoke at weeken. Thanks to them, I feel more happy.
Now I’m 24 years old, I’m preparing graduation, then I will find a job in a foreign company and wait him come back, marry and have 2 babies. This is a simple life but I wish,I will tried my best to my dream come truth. And I NEVER GIVE UP.

Hoa, in her autobiography claims she can remember being born. Perhaps what she means is she can remember previous TET (Lunar new year, usually called Chinese New Year in America).
AUTOBIOGRAPHY ABOUT ME: Hong Hoa
I was born in Hanoi. I still remember the day when I was born: It was a speacial day that we call New Year Eve's Day. It was on February 11 th, 1983 which was on December 30, 1982 in lunar calendar. My mom went to Cay Da Nha Bo hospital few days ago, waiting for me, her new baby. My dad was at home, preparing for the Tet , and, ready for the baby. Everyone was hurry to finish their work and went home. Tet is an occasion for everyone coming back home and gathering their families' members. However, these days was not the days like ussual in my family. Mom was not at home cooking for the new year's Eve party. And dad didn't go to the market to buy firecrackers for the Tet. The only thing they did was just only preparing for the coming baby.
8 am, December 30, 1982 in Lunar calendar, Mom felt strange in her stomach. She kept rubbing her belly, talking with her baby in sweet words. Suddenly, she felt a pain in her stomach and couldn't stand it. Doctors came in and tried to help her to bear.
8.30 am, there was a phone call from the hospital saying that my mom was going to bear a baby. Dad came to the hospital as soon as possible to be with my mom. Everyone was ready for a new born baby. Mom had a very bad pain in her belly and she kept calling my dad's name. " anh An, anh Ä‘Ã¢u rá»“i?" ( Mr An, where are you?). Dad was beside my mom, holding her hands and said that he was here with her. Mom smiled. Doctors said fathers must go out in order to make the mother bear easily. Dad had to go out, still worried about my mom. Few minutes later, a loud crying baby's voice raised. Doctors came out and said with Dad that he had a new baby girl. He rushly came in and hugged mom and me â€“ a new baby. Everyone said the baby was born in Tet and she'll be happy and funny like Tet always. It was a very happy time for mom and dad.

2008-12-18T19:21:00.000-08:00

Huong of Hanoi Univ. of Technology (HUT) wrote one of the best autobiographies.

Chapter 7...Hoang and Other Treasures

2008-12-10T16:12:00.001-08:00

Hoang (Alan) is his first suit.

Chapter 7…Hoang and Other Treasures…

A tremendous stroke of good fortune came my way a few months ago; Hoang, who’s English name is Alan, asked if he could move in with me. I’ve known this boy since I came here, almost a year ago. He’s a good-hearted lad, about, as he says, “21 or so.” It makes it difficult to judge ages here. And it doesn’t help that the Vietnamese consider their birth the day they were conceived and when they are born, they consider that their first birthday, which, if you think about it, they’re right.

On our first birthday, there is no cake, no candles, no presents for us except that great big gift called LIFE! When on the next anniversary of their birth, the Vietnamese claim to be two, we Americans claim our first official birthday. I am always asking my VN students, what YEAR were you born…on this there is no mistake.

Alan was born in Hung Yen Province, about a 2 hour bus ride NE of Hanoi. His mother and father are both poor rice farmers. Alan, along with his younger brother and sister, worked with their parents in the rice paddies ever since they could walk. At 14, his mother brought him to Hanoi with her for the first time. Once Alan saw Hanoi, he was hooked. Shortly after returning home to Hung Yen, he ran away from home and stayed on the streets working as a shoe-shine boy. He picked up English from his foreign customers and somehow, someone at our school took note of Alan and it wasn’t long and he was given a scholarship to come learn English formally.
When I first met Alan, he was working as a combination doorman and bell-hop at a hotel that catered to foreigners. Alan never could get the terms doorman and bell-hop straight so, when asked what he did, he said he was a doorbell. No matter how often I corrected him, it was futile…he was a doorbell.

When he lost his job at the hotel, he also lost his quarters there…which was a large closet he slept in so he needed somewhere to lay his head at night. When I took him in, he was as thankful as a lost dog taken off the street. The first night, before I retired, he brought a tub of hot water for me to soak my aching feet in. He repeated this unselfish act of service each night for weeks. However, both Alan and I got some stark reminders that we had come from vastly different cultures.

After his first few days with me, I went to take a shower one afternoon and found my towel sopping wet. I called to Alan and asked if he had used my towel. Without hesitation, he said “Sure!” as if there was no alternative. I told him that I would get him his own towel and I explained that in our culture, you don’t use other people’s bath towels…they are like personal property.

Somewhat puzzled, Alan looked at me quizzically and said that in his family, they only had one towel for 5 people so they all used the same towel. WOW! Culture shock afresh! Moments later, after I had handed Alan a towel of my own and I went to brush my teeth. No way!!!! My toothbrush was wet!!!

“ALAN!!!” I screamed. “Please don’t tell me you used my toothbrush!!!” Again, a dumbfounded look and he said, “Of course I used your toothbrush. I don’t have one…and besides…” I cut him off. “Don’t tell me…you only had one toothbrush for your whole family.” He nodded yes.
In great detail, and with slow speech and very clear words, I let Alan know that I would get him his own toothbrush…that this was very improper to use the same toothbrush as someone else. He got the message although at the time, he likely thought I was rather strange and picky.

Although Alan constantly tried my patience with unpolished ways and crass manners, he was a sweet, loveable boy and I could never find it in my heart to ask him to move out. Even when I discovered my underwear drawer was empty…and what a shock because my waist is at least double his…well, I had to start locking my bedroom door when I went out. I told him, “Alan, don’t tell me you and your family only had one pair of underwear between the 5 of you because I am NOT going to believe it!”

Wednesday, August 11h , 2004...“Flowers…”…

The lyrics of one of my favorite folk songs, called, “Give me roses” has the words:

“Give me the roses while I live, trying to cheer me on,
Useless the flowers you shall give after the soul is gone.”

Downstairs, in my living room, on the desk are 3 bouquets of flowers. These all came from students. Flowers are a very important part of Vietnamese culture and society. Last week when I was sick, I had to cancel my Thursday night class and just spend the day and night in bed. The next day when I came downstairs there were these beautiful flowers that the students of the class had brought. Alan, the young Vietnamese man who now lives with me, let the students in and accepted their get-well gifts and put the flowers in vases while I was asleep upstairs. That touched me so deeply. Flowers here are the expression of care and love.
For a society where there is no outward physical affection (no hugging, no kissing, no hand-holding) the Vietnamese show their love with flowers. I ask the question to all my students: “Do you ever tell your parents that you love them?” They answer always the same, a resounding “NEVER!” They tell me it would be inappropriate to say such a thing. You show it, they tell me, you don’t say it. And often times, they say it by buying their parents flowers. In the year that I’ve been in Hanoi, I’ve never had one student tell me “I love you.” It just isn’t done here. However, they demonstrate it by bringing flowers and food.
The Vietnamese are a very warm-hearted people with ready smiles and a cultural reservoir of love overflowing from their generous hearts. They feel very secure in their family relationships because their parents nurture them so totally and love them so completely. The divorce rate is less than 1% because they don’t want to break up families. Adults sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the happiness and security of their children. In fact, the word “sacrifice” is a huge part of Vietnamese cultural mentality and society. A wife would never even think of divorcing her husband even if he was habitually unfaithful to her, especially if she had children.
After researching and reading about the low divorce rate in Vietnam, I mentioned this statistic to my boss, Mr. Lam, who is the managing editor of The Vietnam Economic News, the weekly magazine that I am foreign editor for. Although serious, his reply made me laugh aloud. He said, “That is incorrect. It is much higher than 1%. It is at least 4 or 5%!” He didn’t see the humor in his statement, but compared to our country where the divorce rate has now exceeded 50%, the relatively low figure of even 5% paled in contrast. No matter how poor a family, there are flowers in every home.
Now, when I see certain kinds of flowers, I think of certain people. Lynelle often brings me a bouquet of huge sunflowers. I will never see a sunflower without thinking of my cheerful, bright, bouncy little Canadian “daughter.” She will return to Victoria on Saturday after being here teaching for a year. I am really going to miss her. My Vietnamese “daughter” Ruth brings me yellow roses once a week. Alan brought a gorgeous array of lotus. Ha brought a vase full of cat-tails and water reeds. Students brought a rich array of flowers.
Although flowers fade and die within a week, the love behind them remains. It is such a small expression of love and yet, it is these small things in life that added together, contribute to the richness and color of this wonderful culture. Culture is in people. People maintain and preserve culture. As the little plaque on a friend’s wall states, “Friends are the flowers in the garden of life.”

Thursday, Sept. 2nd , 2004...“Vietnamese Ants…”…

Today is Vietnam‘s National Independence Day. It is the second biggest holiday in Vietnam after TET, the lunar new year. Today Vietnam celebrates its independence not from one country but from many. In their 4,000 year history, the Vietnamese have never been dominated for long. France conquered and occupied Vietnam for 100 years but 50 years ago this year, in 1954, the famous battle of Dinh Binh Phu took place in which the smaller, ill-equipped army of Ho Chi Minh’s loyal followers totally licked the French and drove them out of Vietnam. In 1973 the Vietnamese drove America from it’s soil as they have done China, Japan, and Mongolia thousands of years before. If there is one word that characterizes the Vietnamese people it is “tenacious”. Tenacious is defined by Webster as the quality of being able to overcome any obstacle with fierce determination. The Vietnamese have fierce tenacity. They are like little bulldogs that grab a hold of your leg and will never let go. Don’t ever get in an argument with a Vietnamese person. You will lose.
Other qualities of the Vietnamese include, but are not limited to, warm-hearted, friendly, kind and generous. For example, one night of the week I teach a group of army doctors at a military hospital. After the class one night I invited one of the doctors home for a meal with me. I had a persistent cough and couldn’t shake it. During the meal, the doctor told me he’d take care of me so the next day he brought medicine to my home. He called each day to see how I was doing and informed me, “I am your family doctor. Whenever you have any health problem at all, call me and I will come to your home to take care of you.” He would not accept payment…he said, “Just keep teaching us English!” In Vietnam doctors DO make house-calls! Incredibly kind people these Vietnamese.

I’ve mentioned in a previous email about the Vietnamese being curious. Remember “Curious George?” Well he is pretty typical of the Vietnamese and curiosity is a wonderful quality when harnessed. I use teaching strategies that utilize student’s curiosity like, “Guess what is in the box.” I usually have a vocabulary word on a flash card and they have to guess clues to find out which word it is. You would be surprised how much their vocabulary improves when their curiosity is peaked. This week the word in the box was “tenacious.”

The most common question the Vietnamese ask me and other foreigners is; “What do you think of Vietnamese people?” I usually tell them that the Vietnamese are friendly, kind, curious, survivors and as mentioned, most of all they are tenacious. I think I have really got this point of being tenacious across to the students. This past week, I’ve been having a real problem with ants. They even got in my air-tight sugar container. I don’t know how. I put the container in a bowl filled with water and a few hours later I saw ants crawling up the sugar container. In amazement, I called some of my students over to witness ants swimming in the water to get to the sugar container. I said, “I want you to see this for yourself. If I told my friends in America about this they will never believe me. Only in Vietnam will ants swim in water to get at sugar.” One of them said “Of course they can swim. They are Vietnamese ants! They are tenacious!!!” I have been chuckling all week long over those words!

Sunday, Sept. 12th , 2004...“Cherry Pie Will Have to Wait…”…
I love America. In America you can buy anything you crave, day or night, providing you have money, it is not illegal and you have the strength to get out of bed. I also love cherry pie. Last week I had a dream about eating cherry-pie. I awoke craving cherry-pie. The only problem was there is no cherry-pie to be found anywhere in Hanoi. ...not in a bakery, not in a home, not even in restaurants. Yes, I can bake a cherry-pie Billy Boy, Billy Boy but the problem is there is no oven in my home nor in most homes in Hanoi, just a couple of butane gas burners, much like cooking on a Coleman stove. So I forgot about the cherry-pie. It was just wishful thinking.The next night, I had a dream that I had made a trip to America and yes, you guessed it, the first thing I had was a piece of cherry-pie and a cup of coffee. I think my blood sugar is getting too low. When I awoke I was now drooling for cherry-pie. Normally I don't have much of a sweet-tooth but now I was getting desperate. My visa is coming up for renewal the end of this month and the thought even flittered thru my mind: "Maybe I won't be able to get my visa renewed and I'll have to go back to America and YES! Eat cherry-pie!" I banished this childish and gluttonous thought from my mind never to have it return again, except once every few minutes. This was starting to get to be an obsession.What does one do when one has irrational and impossible obsessions? I started to scheme how I could make a cherry-pie in my microwave. Then there came another problem. There are no cherries in Hanoi. Here there are fruits I've never heard of. In addition, there are some I have even never heard of until I came to Vietnam and now that I have tasted them I wish I had never heard of, like durian.Durian is a fruit that you either love or hate. Rex loves durian. Morris loves durian. .Most Vietnamese love durian. If someone wanted to get secret information out of me, all they would have to do is threaten me to eat durian and I'd tell all. There is absolutely no way I can describe the taste of it. The closest I can come is to say it is like eating solid lighter fluid, only it isn't flammable. Then again, I'd dare not light a match within 30 feet of it. Then again, I try not to get within 30 feet of it.The first time I am aware of ever having heard the word "durian" was in a going-away poem that Sharon Farnell from California composed before I left for Hanoi. She had a line, something to the effect of "from durian you will be a scurrien," or something to that effect. I thought durian was like a motor vehicle. I was wrong, it is more dangerous and lethal. How people can eat it and still live to tell about it is a miraculous feat to me.Well now, I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, cherry-pie! Wow, talking about durian has taken my appetite away for everything, including cherry-pie. However, if you have a good recipe for making cherry-pie in a microwave, please send it on. When was the last time you had dreams about cherry-pie two nights running? Oh the things we take for granted in America. God bless America, mothers, baseball and of course, cherry-pie. I guess cherry pie will just have to wait until I come home in December. Next time you have a slice of pie of anything, take an extra bite for me…and be thankful you live in America next time you crave something in the middle of the night. As our dear departed Marilyn Wheeler might advise, “Forget the cherry-pie and pick up your chop stix again!”

Chapter 6...Growing Pains...

2008-12-05T18:18:00.000-08:00

Water buffalo graze on a foggy hillside near Sapa

Chapter 6 …Growing Pains…

When the school closed, Roger, the principle, told me that I could buy any and all of the schools supplies and resources in order to start my own English center. On my budget, all I could afford was a portion of the books in the school’s resource center. I couldn’t afford to buy any of the tables, chairs, desks, or whiteboards. When new students called the school to enroll in classes, the secretaries, Minh and Thuy would take down their numbers and I would call them and invite them to come to my home to take classes. Looking back on my journals from that time period, I shake my head and am amazed at my insane optimism. My first class started out with 2 students on the steps of the home of friends where I was staying. The journal for that period was surprisingly cheerful.

Thursday, May 13, 2004…My First Class…

Tonight I had my first class with two students, Hung, a 27-year-old software engineer and Hanh, a 25-year-old sales rep with LG-Vietnam. Since I haven’t found a house yet, I held the class on the steps of the home of friends where I am staying temporarily. I told the 2 students the first class is free…and once I find a house, we will begin officially. Truth is, I enjoy teaching so much that I would actually do it for free. Thanks to the job as foreign editor for the Vietnam Economic News, I really don’t need additional income from teaching to make ends meet. Since students can only learn after work in the evenings anyway, the News job fills my otherwise empty days.

As a paraphrase of the whisper in “Field of Dreams,” the still small voice keeps saying, “If you teach them, they will come.” Even if I only had one eager student, that would be enough. Teaching is not about numbers but about giving. Probably, for the first time in my life, I am starting to get a feeling of finding my niche and being fulfilled after a lifetime of failures.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004…The class is growing…

Tonight I had my first class in my new home, around the dining room table. Now there are 6 students. Again, I told them, since 4 of them are new students, that the first class would be free and we will meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 7 to 8:30. This is an intermediate conversation class. Hung is the most advanced of the 6 but I will have to shoot for middle ground so all can enter in. At our school, we had 5 levels: beginner, lower intermediate, intermediate, upper-intermediate, and advanced. VN taught the beginners and then we NES taught or co-taught the other levels. If I get many more students at different levels, I am going to have to divide them up into skill level classes.

Thursday, May, 20, 2004…Class has doubled…

12 students show up tonight. I don’t know where they’re coming from…like ants, they come out of nowhere. A few of these were more advanced and a few were only at lower-intermediate. I’m going to have to divide the students up into skill levels.

Also, tonight, I came to the painful realization that if the amount of students increases, I am going to have to hire help, especially for the lower level students who need more of the basics. It frustrates the advanced students to have beginners in with them. Also, after working all day at the News, I don’t have the stamina to teach every night.

Friday, June 11, 2004…Maxed out…

Tonight I started a class of army doctors at the Hanoi Army Hospital. 7 doctors, primarily in nuclear medicine. They need English for their jobs and to get further training abroad. Now I have classes each night except Sundays. Next week I am to make a trip to Hue for the VN Cultural Festival and am looking forward to the break in the routine. Feel I’m in over my head. Fortunately, I’ve hired Huong to teach the beginners so that will be a big help. She and a few other students will go with me to Hue this coming week.

Asked each of the doctors to tell a little about themselves. Also in the class is Viet, one of my students from Duc’s class on Tuesday nights. Viet is a physician’s assistant and is the one who told his supervisor, Col. Bao about me. When he brought Col. Bao to my house to meet me, and request English lessons for the doctors, I was surprised to see she was a woman. Didn’t expect a woman, colonel, army doctor. She had to get approval from her superior because I was an American. They’ve never had an American come to the army hospital before. My dad, veteran of WW II and the Korean War era, would turn over in his grave if he knew I was working for a communist government’s army! My conscience doesn’t bother me tho…teaching English isn’t exactly like selling nuclear secrets to Russia.

Always, starting a new class is exciting and it revitalized and energized me after an exhausting week. It was funny…one of the doctors, Dr. Son, who has a high squeaky voice, when I asked him when he first started to learn English, said that the first word he ever learned as a child was the word, “OK.” He said he was watching Vietnam TV and there was an ad for “OK condoms,” and that was what he first learned. I was a little stunned to think they were showing ads for condoms on the state-owned TV station. Then I got thinking…almost all Hanoi families only have 1 or 2 children in the family so they had to start practicing birth control a few decades ago. Dr. son gave me a ride home on the back of his motorbike and he is by far the most advanced student in the doctors class.

Friday, June 25, 2004…Motivation…

Fridays are our busiest day at the VN Economic News. We have to finalize the weekly English edition for publication. The files are sent to the printer in HCMC and printed and distributed on the weekend so they will be in the hands of thousands of English speaking companies by Monday. I go by xe om (motorbike taxi) right from the office to the army hospital. Unfortunately, the doctor’s class only gets my leftover energy from the week but I motivate myself by reminding myself that English is a tool the Vietnamese use for a better life.

I just finished reading Bill Bryson’s book, “The Mother Tongue,” and there is a shocking statistic in there. Bryson writes that of the 1.2 billion people in China, more either speak English or are learning English than all the NES in America! Given the influx of illegal immigrants into the USA, that is probably a fact.

When tired, exhausted and depleted of energy, I can usually motivate myself to teach by remembering that English is the road out of poverty for many of my students. They are so eager to learn; it lights a fire under me…and in my heart.

Sat. July 3, 2004…The Advanced Class
Tonight I had my first advanced class. These students are all the best from all my classes combined. Dr. Son, from the doctor’s class, Huong, my beginner class teacher, Ha, who made an attempt to teach me Vietnamese, and a handful of some of the other advanced students.

I gave the students a listening test, reading an article out of the VN Economic News about the monk I’d gone to interview. Afterwards, I asked 35 questions to see how well they could retain information and Ha got 33 out of 35 right. The next best was Huong at 27, then Dr. Son, 25. My intermediate students got less than 10 right a few nights ago. Dr. Son has a delightful sense of humor and always makes me laugh.

Of the 5 skills in English, the most important is pronunciation. All my students, whether lower intermediate to advanced have one thing in common; they’ve all been taught English initially by VN English teacher, which means they’ve all been taught incorrect pronunciation. Listening, speaking, reading, are sequential in difficulty with writing being the last skill to develop in English.

What a crazy, messy language we have; a conglomeration of Latin, Greek, and Anglo-Saxon. Take a sentence like, “To become a doctor, biology is vital.” We had “bio,” from the Greek root for life and “vita,” from the Latin root for life all in the same sentence. I’m surprised that English has become the language of commerce, travel, and the universal language of the world in general. Little did I ever realize how valuable my mother tongue would become.

I teach my smaller classes, 10-12 or less around my dining room table. I teach the larger classes, more than 12, upstairs in the big room. I have yet to have enough stools for everyone so the students in the larger classes sit on mats on the floor. I apologize for this, but they don’t seem to mind.

Chapter 5...Reverse Culture Shock...

2008-12-05T17:53:00.000-08:00

Friday, Feb. 20, 2004…Going Home or Leaving Home?…

Noi Bai Airport…Hanoi…11 AM…sitting in the VN Airlines boarding area awaiting my flight for Hong Kong. Mixed emotions. Three months ago I was marking the days off the calendar until this day was to arrive…my day of departure for the USA.

Chi and Huong rode with me in the taxi. They were gabbing all the way to the airport and Chi brought me a pink string to tie around my finger, so as not to forget to return to Hanoi.

“Chi,” I said firmly, “I’ve already got a huge ribbon tied around my heart…I don’t need one on my finger!” I had to turn away from Chi and Huong because I felt a lump in my throat and eyes beginning to water. How is it that a few months ago I couldn’t wait to leave Vietnam and now I wanted to stay? What caused these changes in the heart?

Now on the plane…noon…VN Airlines flight between Hanoi and Hong Kong. Visited briefly with a middle age couple sitting next to me from Canada. Asked them how they liked Hanoi…they were there for 5 days and said they hated it…traffic, noise, culture shock. Sounded like me after 3 months. To see true beauty in any culture you have to look below the surface.

In Hong Kong airport…2 PM…will board Cathay Pacific flight in about 30 minutes for SFO. 14 hour flight ahead of me and I’ll arrive in Calif. about the same time, same day I left Hanoi.

Friday, Feb. 27, 2004…at my mom’s in Denver…Reverse Culture Shock...

It seemed so strange stepping on American soil again. When I handed the agent my passport to clear customs in San Francisco, he asked me what I had been doing in VN for 6 months and when I told him, he handed back my passport, smiled and said, “Welcome home!” That felt good.

After renting a car, I drove to Santa Clara to see my youngest son Galen and his family. The first thing he noticed was that I had lost weight. “Looks like Vietnam agreed with you pops,” he announced.

After spending a few days with Galen, Shelly and my grandkids, Caden and Macy, I headed east on I-80 toward Denver. Stopping constantly to take pictures of the American landscape, as if I were seeing it all again for the first time, I especially lingered in the Sierras to get pictures of the snow. This would wow the students back in Hanoi.

In Utah I stopped at my first McDonalds. When I ordered a Big Mac, I told the kid behind the counter the last time I had a Big Mac was in Guangzhou, China. Obviously impressed, the kid’s response was, “Do you want fries with that?” So much for global consciousness in America.
Now, on my bed downstairs in the bedroom I occupied when in high school, I am typing my handwritten Hanoi journals into my laptop.

My mom, now 87, has really gone downhill since I last saw her before going to Hanoi 6 months ago. The house is a disaster. Piles of newspapers cover every inch of the kitchen table, over a foot high. It took me 3 hours to wash all the dirty dishes in the sink. My unemployed brother Danny, who lives here, spends every waking moment at the bar and only staggers home long after everyone is in bed. After I take care of filing my income tax and a few other items of business, I will be glad to be going back to Hanoi. Besides the homes of friends, I have no other home except this one here in Denver. Tomorrow I’ll drive down to Colorado Springs to visit my oldest son Jason and his wife Cat and my other grandkids, Carson and Kai.

Friday, March 12, 2004…58 in Denver

Turned 58 today and feel still wet behind the ears. Yesterday I got an email from Roger in Hanoi telling me not to return to Vietnam. He said the school was closing down in April so I won’t have a job to come back to. Also, he and the other teachers are all leaving to return to their homelands after the school closes so I won’t have a home to come back to either.

Although a bit surprised, it didn’t shock me. I knew I was going back to Hanoi anyway, because I left something very important there I have to go back for; my heart. So, I plan on returning the middle of next month.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004...Reflections on America…

I’ll be returning to Vietnam tomorrow.

Now, there are some things I must write before I go back to the other shore. I must write what is on my mind about America. After 6 months in Vietnam, I’ve come to appreciate my homeland like never before. For all of America’s faults and failures, it is still the greatest nation on the earth. What do we have that Vietnam doesn’t? I’ve been thinking about that ever since I’ve come home and there are three things about the home of the brave and land of the free that have come acutely into my focus. The three things that are in greatest contrast to Vietnam are LIBERTY, OPPORTUNITY, AND PROSPERITY.

There are things that I don’t have the liberty to write about in Vietnam. On the other hand, we have freedoms here that permit people to burn our flag, an act that infuriates and saddens me…but such is the freedom of expression in this country. In Vietnam it is illegal to own or carry a gun. In America someone would kill you for trying to take their gun away from them! We have so many liberties here that we take for granted. Maybe, just maybe we have too many liberties. However, liberty leads to opportunity.

For example, Colin Powell, a poor Jamaican youth rose from poverty in NY City to become the US Secretary of State. Quyen Lee, a refuge from Vietnam, worked in an LA bakery and even slept there at night, working 16 hours a day until he was able to buy the bakery and now owns a chain of donut shops and is a millionaire. Ken Hamblin, a fatherless black grew up as a gang member but after getting drafted, took advantage of the GI Bill and went to college to improve his station in life and became a talk show host on a prominent Denver radio station, as well as a nationally syndicated newspaper columnist. Opportunity breed prosperity.

America is the most prosperous nation on the planet and in the history of the planet. My Vietnamese students tell me they want Vietnam to be more like America and I caution them and explain, “I want America to be more like Vietnam!”

I’ve come to love Vietnam, it’s people, it’s culture, and it’s beauty. Tomorrow I will be returning to Hanoi for an indefinite period of time. I’ll not be able to write about the things that are most precious to me…the beauties in God’s Word, the beauties of His people there or the beauty and power of His handiwork there.

Sat. April 17, 2004...Go with the flow….

At this moment I’m at Morris and Chu-han’s and it is 11:30 AM. They are in their rooms studying with Tan. It was so good to see her again.

My first official journal entry of my “2nd Tour of Duty” in Vietnam. Roy took me to the SF airport on Wedns. Nite and he went as far with me as he could go before I waved him goodbye. He is such a good man. He is the kind of man I want to be. He is like Jesus. That’s the perfect pattern When Roy waved me goodbye Wedns nite and I walked to the gate, I felt so all alone. I felt so utterly lonely, yet I know in the depths of my heart God is with me. We can feel all alone, even when we are not. Not being with people can make us feel alone but the true loneliness is being without God. When we come to the end of life’s journey I don’t want to be outside the presence of God. When I took my seat on the plane I felt so totally and utterly alone and in a sense, wanted to stay in America. I know these feelings are normal.

Opportunity missed: When I checked in at Cathay Pacific to come here, the ticket agent asked me if I would volunteer to give up my seat as the plane had been overbooked. They would give me $400 and get me on the next plane the next night. When I hesitated, she added, “And we will upgrade your seat to First Class if there are any available.” What a difference it would have been to travel richer and better. My main reservation for not doing it was because I was to meet John in Hong Kong to get the mail. However, where there is a will there is a way. Maybe John was just an excuse because I didn’t want to inconvenience myself. Ironic, one more night in America would have rewarded me with $400 and a possible First Class ride to Hong Kong! I need to me more flexible and more aware of and willing to take advantage of Opportunities.

I sat next to Jennifer, a young lady of Chinese heritage who was born in Taiwan but grew up in Calif. and got her BS degree from UCLA in psychology. She was on her way to Thailand to visit her sister and we had a nice chat for about an hour but after a time we seemed to run out of things to talk about. She was a world traveler and had been to many countries all over the world. As Jennifer and I chatted, I realized how much I love people and draw comfort from getting to know people. As soon as we started to talk my loneliness seemed to dissipate. She used the word “privilege” often and I commented to her how seldom we hear that in our country. Often times we hear people in America talking about “their rights” but not “their privileges.” Jennifer is an exceptional lady and I feel she has a bright future ahead of her. She’s been working as a marketing research consultant for 8 years in the Bay Area.

Yesterday I did have a very brief visit in Hong Kong with John M. and got the mail for the workers. The flight from HK to Hanoi was most enjoyable. There were very few people on the plane and I had the luxury of having the whole back of the plane to myself. Only Roger was there to meet me when I landed and I got a hug from him, just as I did when I first came 8 months ago. He will always be like a son to me.

Roger and I got a taxi and had a lively visit on the way to Morris and Chu-han’s. I learned later that Van Ahn and Tan took the bus to the airport to see me but arrived too late. What a pity! I laid down for a brief rest and felt very thankful to be back in Hanoi. After Chu-han made us a good Vietnamese lunch of rice and stir-fry veggies, Lynelle came and it was so great to see her again. Now all we need is Brandon!!! Lynelle took me to the school to see Thuy…now all we need is Minh! Lynelle’s bedroom ceiling was leaking from all the rain…took a xe om to the Hoa Binh Hotel so see Darlene and spent the evening with her. Took her out to the “wrong” Little Hanoi for her birthday dinner and then we went back to her hotel to wait for the others while I had such an impossible time trying to stay awake! Len, Robert, and Marcus from Australia arrived with Roger. Lynelle and Thuy had come too so we had quite a reunion there in the hotel lobby but I was just wasted so couldn’t wait to get back to the bach to crash!

Slept soundly thru the nite and awoke refreshed today. I checked my email a little while ago and it was great to hear from Chi via email finally. Lunch again with the boys and Tan joined us.

The thing that has impressed me the deepest today is when Chu-han was offering thanks for breakfast this morning and it touched me so deeply I got teary eyes. I felt so incredibly thankful to be back here in Vietnam! I really love being here! There is no place I’ve ever been in my life where I feel more a sense of belonging than here. Darlene can fully understand my feelings!

Sunday, April 25th, 2004...Good Morning Vietnam!

On Wednesday nite, April 14, my dear friend, Roy drove me to the San Francisco airport for my return to Vietnam. As we walked together down to the security checkpoint, I said goodbye to him and told him he had gone as far with me as he could go. The rest of the way I had to walk alone. It was at that time that a strange and sad loneliness came upon me. As much as I had wanted to return to Vietnam, I was sad to leave a newly discovered America.

After having been in Vietnam for the previous 6 months, America seemed such a prosperous and wonderful land during the 2 months I was there. I rediscovered our hard fought liberty, opportunity and prosperity. I traveled over 6,000 miles during that time, visiting friends and relatives in the western states. I ate all the foods I couldn’t get in Vietnam. Packed into those 2 months were many memorable visits and sharing pictures and stories about Vietnam. In one sense I was more than ready to come back to Hanoi but in another sense I wanted to stay in my homeland. However, 2 overwhelming factors made it easier to leave America: (1) knowing without the shadow of a doubt this is where I am meant to be and (2) the people here in Vietnam have won my heart.

It makes matters a little more difficult coming back to our school which will close on May 1st after having been in operation for 3 years. On top of that I am homeless. While I was in America, Brandon, Roger and Rex, my room-mates moved out of our house. Rex went back to New Zealand and Roger will soon be returning to his native Australia after the close of the school. Brandon just returned from a 3 month trip thru China, Mongolia, Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. While he was in Laos, last week, he was robbed twice and barely made it back to Hanoi. That is another story, best left for Brandon to tell. Anyway, for a few brief weeks, I am with my 3 “kids” that I traveled to Hong Kong and China with in January, Lynelle, Roger and Brandon. It is likely the last time I will be together with these 3 incredible youngsters at the same time. This privilege in itself was worth coming back to Hanoi for! Lynelle will stay on here in Vietnam, likely teaching Kindergarten after the school closes.

As for me, only One knows what the future holds. Roger, Brandon and I are camped in Morris and Steve’s 2 bedroom home on the outskirts of Hanoi. I’ve been actively looking for a house or apartment. I’ll just have to keep looking. However, I do have a job. Actually, 3 part time jobs. I still work for the Vietnam Social Sciences Journal as their English editor. Also, I will take over Roger’s morning editing job with the Vietnam Economic Review when he leaves, and I have formed a class of my own. Last nite was my first nite to teach a class of seven. Between all 3 jobs, I should be able to make ends meet here.

“Any kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted” Aesop

Yesterday 2 of my students took me house hunting. Out of the kindness of their heart they paid for 2 real-estate agents to show us around. That touched me deeply. They wouldn’t let me repay them. After looking at a couple of houses, we followed the agents on motorbikes to a third house. The house owner was not there to let us in so the agents phoned him. He said he’d be there to let us in and show us the house in about 30 minutes. I could see the frustration on my student’s faces. They were very apologetic for the delay but to me this was all just part of this new adventure of hunting for a house in Hanoi.

While we stood outside chatting, the next door neighbor came out and asked us what we 5 were doing standing around this empty house. When the agents explained we were waiting for the house owner to come and show us the home, he insisted we come in and sit down in his house and wait. We did so. While we waited, the neighbor poured us tea and shared hospitality with us. Here we were perfect strangers to this man and all of a sudden we were sitting around his table drinking his tea and receiving this great kindness. In Vietnam, this is the kind of hospitality that is standard. And, hospitality is instant.

As we 5 were seated around the neighbor’s table, one of the agents, a young lady about 30, took some hot water from a thermos and poured it in one of the small tea cups. She then poured it from cup to cup, almost ritualistically to clean all 5 cups before tea was poured in. The neighbor then put tea leaves in a tea pot and added hot water from the thermos. This is the way the Vietnamese always have hot water for tea ready for unexpected guests. As we sipped tea, I was deeply touched by all the kindness of the day…my students paying the agents to show us houses, the graciousness of the neighbor and the agent cleaning the cups before we shared tea together. By the time the owner of the house had arrived, I had already had a most delightful visit, thru the interpretation of my students, with the agents and the neighbor. Kindness is deeply imbedded in this culture.

Next week when I write, I hope I can report on finding a house. None of the houses I looked at yesterday were suitable. The average price of the homes we saw was a little above my budget at $300 per month.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004...“Moving Days…”…

Laying on my bed, I’m writing you after over a month of being back in Vietnam. Looking around my bedroom here I have to confess that this place is a disaster area. After staying with 2 of our teachers, Morris and Steve for 4 weeks, I found a place of my own and have been in the process of moving in here for the past few weeks. Last Saturday 2 of our teachers, Lana and Debbie moved out of their apartment for HCM and I inherited their furniture so I have plenty more boxes to unpack downstairs.

My house is quiet by Hanoi standards. It is far removed from horns and busy streets and is tucked away in a maze of lanes and alleys. The little lane I live on is so narrow that a petite taxi is unable to back down here. This was a problem in moving Saturday as the little moving truck had to park about 80 meters away and we had to carry boxes from the truck to my house. Luckily we had a lot of help from former students.

This house is typical Hanoi architecture; long and narrow and high. It is 11 feet wide by 50 feet deep with 4 stories. On the first floor is a small kitchen, living room, motor-bike parking area and guest toilet. The second floor is where my bedroom and bathroom resides. The 3rd floor is a room and bathroom the same size as on the 2nd floor but I use it for a classroom. On the 4th floor is another bedroom and a place for a washing machine, which I inherited from Lana and Debbie on Sat.

Work is plentiful here for Native English Speakers. During the weekdays I work as English editor for the Vietnam Economic News which is published weekly and is the official publication of the Ministry of Commerce and Finance for the nation. The working conditions and the staff, as well as the pay, are all excellent. This job just fell into my lap when I returned here. They hired me sight unseen on the sole basis that I was recommended by Roger, whether I cud rite a sentence or spell a single word in English. In addition, I’ve got another editing job with the Vietnam Social Science Review but it’s only published once every 2 months so I only correct articles for it a couple of weeks bi-monthly.

The biggest serendipity however, isn’t the blessed job with the Economic News but the number of students who have signed up to learn English. The demand to learn English in Hanoi is unreal. It is like there suddenly is this mass explosion to learn our mother tongue.

Saturday, June 5, 2004 “A Room With A View”

When you look out your bedroom window, what do you see? Have you ever lived somewhere where you had a room with an unforgettable view? I do.

It is unlikely I will be able to recall years from now my view from my front window from my second floor bedroom here in Hanoi. It looks out on a solid brick wall. However, I’ve spent hours looking out my back window night and day. It is a scene I will never forget…no matter how long I live.

I thought about taking pictures of it with my digital camera and sending them to you. Then my conscience got the best of me. Perhaps, instead of a picture, I will try to describe it.

The first thing you see looking out my back bedroom window is the back of a tenement building with what I estimate to be about 40 apartments in one long building. Laundry hangs on lines in back of each apartment. Sometimes at night I stand at the window and watch a microcosm of Hanoi city life take place. People preparing and eating dinner…watching television…chatting with neighbors. During the day there are mostly women and children as the men have gone to work. The tenement is about 40 yards from my house.

Between my house, which is attached to a long row of townhouses where we all share common walls with the neighbors on each side of us, and the tenement building across from me, are other dwellings, if I can call them such. They are temporary. They are tents. Made out of plywood and cardboard sides with visqueen plastic for a roof, they are the homes of construction workers, the lowest paid city dwellers. They are temporary because they will move on once their current project is completed and they are temporary because they can’t afford anything else.

I watch the worker’s wives cook on charcoal burners and go to public water spouts to get water to cook with and wash clothes and dishes. This is a view that both mesmerizes me and makes me cringe at the same time. I have never lived so close to abject poverty in my life. What is worse, I am powerless to do anything about it. Someone once said that we will always have the poor with us. Always. There will never be a world without poverty. For all its natural beauty, Vietnam is still one of the poorest countries in the world.

After having worked at The Vietnam Economic News for a month now as the English editor, facts and figures of the economy of this country flood my head. The gross domestic product (GDP) last year, the most prosperous in its history, was $40 billion. This stands 131st in the world economy. In 2002, the average per capita income in Vietnam was $241...less than a dollar a day per person.

All is not gloom and doom however. The good news is in 2004 the average per capita income is expected to be $431 for city dwellers…much less for the farmers who make up 80% of the country’s population. One popular indicator that the country is on the rise is that everyone owns a TV…almost everyone. There are some of us who opt not to have them.

Other than when I look out my back window, the only other time the poverty of Vietnam struck me so hard is when I crossed the border between Vietnam and China, coming home from our China trip in February. Leaving the prosperity of China and crossing the Red River into Vietnam reminded me of the time I crossed over into Mexico from the United States, only here is was more stark. However, there is something you see in the United States that you don’t see in Vietnam; homeless people wandering the streets. No matter how poor or makeshift, everyone has a roof to come home to. And usually under that roof is a wife and loving kids.

I watch the construction workers interact with their wives and children and they seem so happy to me. In fact, the whole citizenry of Vietnam seems happy, almost as if having money is NOT the key ingredient to happiness. There may be less dollars per capita here than anywhere else I’ve been but I can promise you there are more smiles per capita than anywhere else I’ve ever been or will likely be on this planet. Smiles come quickly and easily and are genuine and heartfelt. It is easy…so easy to love the Vietnamese.

Everyone says I am charging my students too little…about $1 per person per lesson, yet when most people only make that much in a day, how can you have the heart to charge more? Most of my students are still in college so they are trying to pay for tuition and books also. I have 52 students and what I charge them doesn’t even cover my rent of $260 per month. But I can’t in good conscience charge more. I have classes 6 nites a week.

Learning English is one way to escape poverty. There is this huge explosion in Vietnam to learn English as ours is the language of the future and the language of finance. Today, while on the back of a motorbike traveling to my class, 2 different people pulled next to me on their motorbikes and wanted my business card in order to call me and learn English. I have hired Susan Tche to help me with my classes as my enrollment is increasing.

Susan is a recent graduate from UC-Berkeley and I met her here in Hanoi about 6 months ago. Her father and mother were born in Hanoi and moved to San Francisco after the war. Susan was born in SF and had never been to Vietnam before so her father brought her here on his first trip back in Nov. to rediscover his roots. They had read the Mercury News article and figured since they knew no one here it would be a possible contact. Now Susan has come back to Hanoi for the summer and needs a job before returning to Calif. in Sept. She has the distinct advantage of speaking fluent Vietnamese as well as English without an accent. She will help me with classes that I will be splitting in 2 because they are getting too big. I am meeting people who are enriching me and expanding my heart. Yes, English is a way out of poverty…for both me and the Vietnamese.

Friday June 18, 2004…Hue…Move over Hanoi, you've just been replaced as the most beautiful city in Vietnam by your Central sister, Hue. After 4 days in Hue, it has now become the crown jewel of the country according to the unofficial vote of my heart. Not even the constant downpour could soak my impressions of this gorgeous ancient city.Having come to Hanoi to teach English 10 months ago, I fell in love with the capitol city and didn't see how any other metropolis in Vietnam could surpass Hanoi's serene beauty. With Hoan Kiem Lake at the center and many lush lakes and parks abounding, Hanoi captivated my heart. I had been to Sapa. I had been to Ha Long Bay. I had been to HCM City. However, they didn't have the romantic chemistry of Hanoi. No place came close until I went to Hue.Leaving Hanoi by train Friday night, June 11, I was traveling with a couple of my dearest English students to Festival Hue 2004. Khoa had been to Hue several times and Huong had gone once when she was in high school. They both promised me I'd be impressed. That was an understatement. I was mesmerized!Blurry-eyed from the 17-hour ride on hard seats, we rested a few hours in our hotel on Saturday afternoon before attending the opening ceremony that night. Colorful hot-air balloons were tethered near the stage. They had to constantly gobble fire to stay aloft in the pouring monsoon. Like the balloons, I felt my spirit soar. Traditional Vietnamese songs and dances highlighted the initial ceremony. The rain came down harder but couldn't discourage the hearts of thousands of celebrants who were there to enjoy Vietnamese culture and cuisine.The next few days, as well as take in different aspects of the Festival, we toured Hue and the surrounding countryside. We walked all around the ancient citadel and we even spent the better part of one of the days going to Minh Mang Palace, which remains one of the most idyllic spots I've seen in the entire world, much less Vietnam.Nature blessed us this day with the rare appearance of the sun.One evening we took a boat-ride on the Huong Giang, (The Perfume River). On board with us were 7 musicians who played and sang traditional Vietnamese folk music and gave quite a performance, if judged by the hearty applause. Even the handicap of not understanding the language couldn't stop me from enjoying this experience immensely. These musicians were all attired in traditional ao dais. Their enthusiastic performance was brilliant. In order to make our dreams come true, the musicians encouraged us to light candles and put them afloat in little lanterns of the river. Mine went under the boat instead of floating out into the river so I think my secret wish got snuffed out. Even if my wish is gone, my memory of the evening remains vividly intact.However, my most unforgettable memory while in Hue is one I will forever cherish. In an effort to avoid crowds and noise, I told Khoa and Huong I wanted to go someplace quiet for breakfast where we could visit over a leisure meal. Khoa knew just the spot. Not far from the wall of the Forbidden City was a little restaurant out in the middle of a pond, surrounded by water-lilies and lotus. The Huong Sen (Perfumed Lotus) was a place I could have stayed all day. Sitting out on the balcony, safe from the downpour all around us, we ate a delicious breakfast in the most tranquil setting imaginable. I noticed how the raindrops turned to little diamonds on the lotus leaves. It was at that moment that I fell in love with Hue. Toi yeu Hanoi… but I love the gorgeous city of Hue just a little more.

Sunday, June 27, 2004...“Viet Kieu…”…VN#37

“Viet Kieu” (pronounced Viet “Q”) is a term the Vietnamese give to Vietnamese people who have left the country and are permanent residents of other countries now. There are more Viet Kieu in America than any other country. In fact, there are more Vietnamese is California alone, than in any other country outside Vietnam…over 1 million. There is an estimated 300,000 in San Jose and over 800,000 in Orange County. No country appreciates the transplanted Vietnamese community more than America does.

The crime rate here in Vietnam is very low and this is reflected in the Viet Kieu communities around the world. They are an honest, industrious, and a respectful people in general. Since all guns are outlawed here in Vietnam there are few murders. There are even fewer rapes and other violent crimes. According to UN statistics, and as reported in most guide books, Vietnam is the safest country in the world for a single, unaccompanied female to travel alone in. You may recall in November that I wrote about Chantal Charbonneau, traveling alone for a month in Vietnam. After completing her one year tour around the world with stops in many other countries, she reported when she got home that she felt safer in Vietnam than any other country.

The reason I’m writing about the Viet Kieu is because this month I have run in to scads of them. One is even staying with me right now, a man named Hung, from Huntsville, Alabama. It is really something to hear a Vietnamese, who can speak fluent Vietnamese, speak English with a southern accent! Also, one is working for me, helping me teach English, Susan, who is in her final semester at UC-Berkeley. While in Hue, I ran into 3 others. Many Vietnamese are returning here to try to make a connection to their roots and also to make a contribution to the society they are so much a part of. Many keep their Vietnamese names, such as Quang, Trang, and Chi.

While we were in Hue, we were in a little street restaurant and I heard English being spoken perfectly. I looked around me but all I saw were Vietnamese. Where could this perfect American English be coming from? I strained my ears and found a table near us where 3 young Vietnamese were conversing in English with no accent. I introduced myself to them and asked them where they were from. There were 2 girls and a boy. Bob was from Texas and he was just working for the US Embassy as a summer intern and would be returning to Texas to resume college in August. Quang and Trang were both graduates of Harvard and were working for the UN Population Fund for the summer. They were both born in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) and left when they were small with their parents for America. They were enjoying every minute of being back in Vietnam.

Susan, who is working with me teaching English, was born in San Francisco, but her parents were both born here in Hanoi. They are some of the very few Viet Kieu who have migrated to America from the north…as most Viet Kieu left Vietnam from the south in 1975 after the communist reunification. Susan’s father brought her with him to in his very first visit to his homeland in Dec. She was so enthralled with Hanoi and the country that she wanted to come back for the summer. Speaking the perfect northern dialect, my students are stunned that Susan can speak to them in both Vietnamese and English and they prefer her voice to mine as they tell me it is more suitable to their ears and easier to understand. I think the boys like her because she is prettier! She keeps their attention.

Perhaps the most interesting Viet Kieu I’ve met yet is Hung, 28 whom I just met yesterday. He was traveling on the bus with Roger, up from Hoi An and they got talking and Roger knew I would be thrilled to meet him. Roger invited Hung to come and stay with me here at my place during the time he will be touring in northern Vietnam. Born in Saigon in 1976, Hung and his father left Vietnam in 1989 and spent 3 years in a refugee camp in Malaysia before they moved to America where his uncle lived in Huntsville, Alabama. Hung started 9th grade there knowing no English. By the time he graduated from high school in Alabama he was prepared for college and on the math section of the SAT he scored 790 out of a possible 800. His English score on the SAT was 500, about the same as mine…passable. He just completed his master’s degree in chemical engineering from the Univ. of Alabama-Huntsville and is now touring Vietnam for a month. He wants to live and work in Vietnam.

Last night I had my class interview Hung and they so enjoyed getting to know him. It is a dream for young Vietnamese to travel abroad, especially to visit America but it is almost impossible for them to get a visa to leave the country. We are so fortunate in the US to be able to get visas to travel to almost everywhere in the world. If a woman is unmarried, it is virtually impossible for her to get a visa to leave Vietnam as the government feels they will not return. Vietnam is afraid of the best and brightest leaving the country and creating an intellectual void and technological poverty. I love Vietnam, as you are aware of by now, but like any country, there are some things that need to change and will change in due season. However, instead of the brightest and best leaving, something else is happening in reverse. The brightest and best Viet Kieu are returning to Vietnam!

More and more Viet Kieu are overwhelmed with a feeling in their heart to return to Vietnam to help the country. Quang, Hung, Trang, Chi, and Susan, are here to contribute their energy and intelligence to the enrichment of this beautiful society. When they come, they come to give, not to take. They are investing Yankee know-how, generosity and American good-will when they step on this shore. They are making a difference to Vietnam, to America and themselves. They make me proud to be American and I am proud of them, as they are some of the best and brightest that America has to offer Vietnam.

According to the Vietnam Economic News that I work as foreign editor for, the largest group of American tourist here come from the ranks of returning GIs, coming to see their old battlefields and to heal old wounds and exorcise demons of their past. The next largest group of visitors from the US to Vietnam are Viet Kieu, coming to bring help and hope and to visit relatives. Then there are the sightseers.

A Viet Kieu friend of mine in Denver, Hinh, hopes to move to Vietnam and teach English when he retires in a few years. He exemplifies the spirit of service and the desire to reinvest his life in his homeland. Is it the country of their nativity that produces this philanthropy is some Viet Kieu or is it an overflow of generosity that is nurtured by the most giving country in the world? No matter what the answer, these Americans who were born on Vietnam’s soil are exemplary of the best of both worlds, and they are the past and the future of Vietnam.

Sunday, July 4th , 2004...“Curious George…”…VN#38
The Vietnamese are very curious people .especially about foreigners. Take the case of my next door neighbor, who I've come to call "Curious George" because of his almost neurotic examination of every aspect of my life. He wants to know the name and business of each person who comes to my door. When I first moved into my house 2 months ago, he told the landlord that it was a mistake for me to rent this house because there were no foreigners near here and that I would be lonely and homesick here. No one would come to visit me he told the landlord. Boy oh boy was he in for a shock!I think the first week pushed him over the edge. On my first Monday here, 3 of my students and Lynelle came to visit. He wanted to know their life history and how they met me and what business they had coming. Then Chi came with a stack of papers for me to correct. Curious George wanted to see the papers and he was frustrated when they were all in English. He asked Chi what they were about. She told him they were for the Vietnam Social Science Review, a bi-monthly publication I work for as a side job. I asked Chi what Curious George wanted. She told me in English. Then he asked her, since he speaks not even a word of English, what I had asked her. She laughed. This 3-way dialogue was starting to get comical to Chi. The more she laughed the more frustrated he became, getting left out of the joke…and the more frustrated he got the harder Chi, who has a very sharp wit and sense of humor, laughed. Then Alan, one of my students, showed up and Curious George turned his attention to Alan. Chi came in while CG interviewed Alan outside my door. Then Nhet showed up and I asked Nhet to talk to him for awhile so I could visit with Alan and Chi without CG wanting to know everything we were saying. Curious George invited Nhet into his house for tea and after about an hour with this lonely old man, Nhet emerged chuckling, saying, "He is 80% off his rocker."The first Friday in the new house, some of my friends had a house warming party in which there were about 20 people. Curious George was livid. There were too many to interview each one. It was about this time that he threw his hands up in despair and went into his house and locked the doors. He still walks by my open door every day and stands and looks in to watch me putter around in the kitchen. Now that I have 6 classes and 52 students coming and going each week, he has given up trying to keep a score card on who is who. He can't differentiate one group of students from another. Which is OK by me.A few weeks ago, I made the following entry in my daily log about Curious George:Chu-han wanted me to meet his Japanese classmates from his Vietnamese university class. We met at Capitol Gardens, a nice restaurant in a swanky hotel that serves a dynamite lunch buffet for 40,000 VND (a little less than $3.00) Alan went with me and actually took me on his motorbike. Now Alan and his motorbikes are "pieces of work" as my departed buddy, Tom Fredgren would say. Alan drives a 30-year-old Russian-made MINSK motorbike. It is the biggest, loudest, clunkiest, ugliest motorbike in Hanoi. When we started to leave my house, my neighbor, Curious George, who speaks no English, told Alan in Vietnamese that "his piece of junk belonged in a military museum as a lethal weapon." And I was crazy enough to ride on the back of it. Every time we stopped at a stop light...and Alan is one of the few people who actually stop at stop lights...even when they are green...but anyway when we stopped, people would look around and retighten the breathing masks everyone wears against pollution here.Another way that the Vietnamese manifest their curiosity is wanting to know what I buy and eat. Once, while walking home from the market with a plastic bag of fruit and vegetables, an old lady stopped me on the sidewalk and went thru by bag to see what I had purchased. Very curious people, these Vietnamese.There are no rules here about asking personal questions. I've been asked things here that would make most people in the states blush to think about, little less ask. I've been asked about my age, weight, salary, rent, eating habits, relationships, laundry detergent, shoe size, number of plates and dishes I own, toothpaste, meat preference, methods I use to wash and peel vegetables, medications I take, why my nose is so big, and on and on and on. You get the picture. Actually you don't…so come visit me and see for yourself...and be prepared to blush.

Sunday, July 18h , 2004...“Bits and Pieces #1…”…

This week an old friend, Richard D. a teacher from Calif will be with me for a few days. He has been teaching in China for the past 10 years and is making his first visit to Hanoi. He is here for a special conference that we have each July. It will be good to see him again. I saw him at a conference in Hong Kong in January and we caught up on the news while I was there.

Since I don’t have a particular subject or theme to write about today, perhaps I can share with you a few bits and pieces of information about Vietnam that I have found either striking or interesting.

Hair…Most women here keep their hair long and many never cut it. I’ve seen women with braids to their knees. Few women dye their hair. When we were in China I noticed many Chinese women who had dyed their hair every color of the rainbow and it looked terrible. There is nothing so unnatural as an Asian woman with blond hair. I am thankful the Vietnamese respect their bodies and don’t do body piercing, tattoos or hair coloring. Their rich, thick, long black hair is beautiful. The men here rarely grow facial hair and most are very clean shaven. The men keep their hair short. Few have long hair. Men here look like men and women look like women. Unlike America, you rarely mistake one for the other.

Saunas…Saunas abound here. Every house has one. All I have to do is step out of my air conditioned bedroom into the hall way and I am in a sauna. The heat and humidity here is worse than anywhere I’ve ever been in the US, including San Antonio. The other day after a shower, I opened my bathroom door to let the steam escape and more steam rushed in than what left the bathroom. This summer Hanoi has recorded record high temperatures. The humidity is worse here than in HCM City so we are the recipients of both heat and humidity making the summer months a constant sauna…that is one of the few negatives about living here…the other is…

The Traffic…
I’d love to read Shakespeare’s description of the traffic here in Hanoi. I’ve tried to write about it but to me it is beyond description. It is like a motorbike ballet where at first you think it is mass chaos and then you see a sublime and subtle order in it all. There are few cars and millions of motorbikes and bikes. I’ve seen very few accidents but know they happen. The colleague of one of our friends was just hit and killed by a truck so each time I get on the back of a motorbike, I am reminded of those words of David…“There is but a step between me and death…”
Garbage…
Now this is interesting…just as I wrote the word “garbage” above, I heard the garbage bell go ding-ding-ding outside my front door.(6 PM each night) Garbage ladies come down each lane pushing an oversized wheelbarrow ringing a bell collecting each persons garbage for the day. I am an American trash generating machine and am always embarrassed to take my huge bag out to the cart whereas my Vietnamese neighbors have a sack of garbage that is so small you can hold it in the palm of your hand. I can’t understand how they can generate so little garbage and they probably don’t understand how I can generate so much…neither do I. These city servants who collect the garbage are usually little bitty women who are smaller than their push-carts and yet they are incredibly strong. They make 30 cents a day, the lowest paid of any city employees but they are thankful to have a job. They push their carts to a central location each night where garbage trucks come in the middle of the night and haul it away. As well as collect garbage, these ladies also sweep the streets and gutters with little hand-brooms. These garbage ladies, always cheerful and pleasant make me think of a proverb I recently read that said, “The richest person in the world is not the one who has the most but the person who needs the least.” Another proverb that goes along with this: “Happiness is not having all we want but being thankful for all we have.” And I must admit, the last 2 months have been the happiest 2 months of my life. Now, if I can just figure out how to stop generating so much trash…

PS about Curious George…I think I was a little too hard on Curious George, my neighbor last week. He really isn’t as bad as I might have made him out to me…he helped me negotiate with a street vendor who came to my door selling toilet paper and helped me save 2,000 dong for 12 rolls of TP (about 17 cents) so he did that either out of the kindness of his heart or because he likes to haggle…which I don’t. I pay whatever they ask. Negotiating for 15 minutes to save 17 cents is not my idea of a profitable way to spend my time.

2008-12-04T14:13:00.000-08:00

The pagoda in the center of Hoan Kiem Lake in the social and geographical center of Hanoi is the symbol of the capital city of Vietnam

Chapter 4...China

2008-11-23T18:27:00.000-08:00

Chapter 4…China

Sunday, February 1st, 2004...“China…Part 1…”…

(Journal entry written from the train between Lao Cai and Hanoi)
Home. I'm going home. Every clickety-clack of the rails takes me a few more meters home. Out the window to my right is the Red River flowing from China toward my home and then out to the South China Sea. Out the window to my left is a water buffalo scratching his neck against a banana tree. Ladies hang a rainbow colored wash on lines in front of bamboo huts with grass roofs. In my railcar all around me are bobbing brown heads topped with thick black hair, sleeping, eating, looking out the windows, chatting or smoking. Some cigarette smoke finds its way out the open windows but most it seems finds its way back to me. But I don't mind so much now because every clickety-clack of the rails brings me a few more meters closer to home. Conical hats crown thin figures in the rice fields hoeing or plowing with water buffalo or planting. Spring and hope are in the air. What I see around me is like nothing I’ve ever seen the likes of before…this is a train ride that really defies description.

The 4 NES, (Native English Speakers) from our school, Brandon, Lynelle, Roger and I, left Hanoi on Friday Jan. 16th for China by train. We attended a conference in Hong Kong where we all spent the first week of our 2 week vacation and then spent the second week traveling together by train around southern China. These 2 weeks will be unforgettable and I’ll likely be writing about them in greater detail in the next few general letters.

Originally, I had planned to fly to the conference while Brandon (24), Roger (23) and Lynelle (20) planned to take the train. However, “the kids” as I shall herein affectionately call them, invited me to join them. At first I declined, thinking I’d be extra baggage to them, but I enjoy being with these 3 so much that I thought it would be the opportunity of a life-time. And I was right. Spending 2 weeks with “the kids” made me feel younger than 57…trying to keep up with them made me feel 87! However, I wouldn’t trade the experience and it would have been a mistake not to go with them.

As we started this incredible journey we had no idea really what awaited us. Only Roger had ever been to China before. We had a 4 person sleeper from Hanoi to the China border. There, we had to get off the Vietnamese train and switch to a train from China. That was our first clue that China was immensely more prosperous than Vietnam. The sleeper in China was BETTER than first class! It was luxury in every detail. We slept little however on the first leg of the journey as we were all too wound up and excited. Brandon had brought along his guitar so we sang and chatted most of the way to Nanning, our first stop in China.

Nanning is a small city by Chinese standards, only over a million people. It was a gloomy, cold, overcast day and before we left the train station, we waited while Brandon bought the train tickets for the next leg of our train journey. While we waited, I noticed that the Chinese people, are on average, about 20-30 lbs heavier than Vietnamese and they look well fed. You rarely see Vietnamese who are overweight. This was not the case in China. Another thing that struck me was how quiet and clean Nanning was. No horns honking. Traffic was orderly and smooth, unlike Hanoi. There were lanes for motorbikes and bikes and other lanes for cars, trucks and busses. This was a modern city compared to even HCM.

We had 6 hours between our next train from Nanning to Guangzhou so we decided to walk around, which became more burdensome with every passing period of time due to the heavy backpacks and baggage we had brought along. It was during this first day we all became painfully aware that we had packed way too heavy.
Our first stop was to have coffee on the 22nd floor of a revolving restaurant atop one of the finer hotels in Nanning. We were all pretty blurry eyed from the all night travel and we needed to wake up. We chatted, drank coffee and watched the city “turn” around us. Here as in Vietnam, when you order coffee you get one small cup with no refills. You pay for each cup. At $2.00 a cup, we made only one revolution in the restaurant.

Walking down one of the broad, clean boulevards of Nanning, I was so impressed with the quietness, order, and cleanliness. However, unlike Vietnam, there were no ready smiles from the citizens and at first we could find no one that could speak English. This would become an increasing problem as we traveled further thru China.

We came upon a small, well-manicured park and as our backpacks and luggage were too much to bear for further walking, we stopped to rest on some benches. People gazed at us as if we were foreigners! Brandon broke out his guitar and started to play. We began so sing together. Pretty soon we looked up and we were encircled by about 30-40 curious onlookers. Too bad I didn’t have the presence of mind to pass around my hat and take up a collection for the show we were giving. We all felt a little uneasy. No one spoke English and it was obvious foreigners were rare in this south China city.

After a few more songs, 3 young men emerged from the crowd and started speaking to us in English. They were college students and one was an English major. While two of the young men talked to the other 3 I started asking one of the young men all about Nanning. Now we were getting somewhere. Suddenly it dawned on me. There were no McDonalds at all in Vietnam. Not one golden arch to be found anywhere in the whole country. Could it be possible that Nanning might have Big Macs? I asked the young man. “Of course!” he answered as if McDonalds was a Chinese birthright. “Where?” I asked with excitement. Now mind you, I avoided McDonalds in the states unless there was nowhere else to go but after 5 months of eating things that I couldn’t identify, little less pronounce, this was going to be pure culinary joy! He pointed to some golden arches just above the trees in the park. We were only 500 yards from pay dirt! “McDonalds!!!” I screamed and pointed to my blurry-eyed mates. As if shot out of a cannon, we left the stunned crowd gazing wide-eyed behind us as we headed quickly with all our gear for a taste of home.

McDonalds, bless them, has the same menu in China as in the good ole US of A. And the place was packed. It took us ever so long to finally get seats where we could all sit together with our boxcar sized gear. A waitress came to our table with a picture menu and graciously took our order. This was no ordinary Mickey D’s…this was first class. And when, after drooling for those eternal minutes before the familiar food came to the table, I slowly took at last, my first bite of a Big Mac outside the home of the brave and the land of the free. Pure pleasure! Now when a man has been so deprived that he’d rather have McDonalds than a lobster tail, you know he is on the verge of being institutionalized. However, there was some comfort in knowing there were 4 of us all headed for the same institution.

Two Big Macs, a coke, large fries, a hot apple pie and an ice cream cone later, my mates and I sat comatose in a world of contented oblivion. For the longest time after we ate, no one said a word. The whirl of unidentified Chinese voices all around us were just soothing white noise to these stuffed and satisfied tired travelers. We didn’t want to move. China had afforded us our first, but by no means our last, culinary comfort zone. Now we were ready for a long winters nap. But it was past time we needed to be going to catch our train to Guangzhou.

Begrudgingly, we put on our packs and picked up our gear as weary soldiers going off to another battle. We had to rush to get to the train station. Our overnight train from Nanning to Guangzhou was as deluxe as the one we had arrived on. Four soft berths in our own cabin awaited us. This nite we didn’t spend much time singing or talking…we slept. And slept soundly.

The next morning we awoke, without option, to the sound of Chinese music. It was raining hard when we got off the train at Guangzhou, a city 2 hours bus ride from Hong Kong. We had decided to take the bus from Guangzhou to Hong Kong because it was cheaper. However, like in Nanning, we had a 6 hour layover. On our way to the bus terminal we walked past a McDonalds, much to my protest but the kids said maybe we could come back here after we bought our bus tickets. Disgruntled, I followed, looking back the whole while at the fading golden arches in the rain behind me.

My frustration and pouting was needless as right next to the China Hotel where we bought our bus tickets for Hong Kong was…dah dah dah dah tah dah! Another McDonalds!!! Perhaps, because of the downpour, this one was practically deserted. We cheerfully had round two of China’s finest cuisine. As the kids discussed where we could leave the gear while exploring this rain drenched city, the most unselfish and philanthropic idea came into my head. “Look. I’ll stay here at McDonalds and watch it while you kids run all over the city exploring!” Reluctant to leave me behind for fear I’d overdose on Big Macs, they did agree it was a thankless job that someone had to do. Actually, I used the time, not to eat, but to read Brandon’s book on China during the 3 hours they were gone shopping. (End of China Part 1)

Friday, February 6th, 2004...“China…Part 2…”…

(Continuation of China trip)
While sitting alone in the McDonalds in Guangzhou, as the rain poured down, I felt safe and secure in familiar surroundings. The tidy restaurant was practically deserted this Sunday morning. I started to read Brandon’s book on China and was fascinated by what I read. China, the most populous country on earth has about the same square miles as the US. However, they have 4 times as many people as we do, 1.2 billion. One out of every 4 people on planet earth lives in China. This is a 4,000 year old culture in the throes of reinventing itself.

There will be an increasing focus on China in the future as Beijing will host the 2008 Olympics. Tourism is in a state of super-nova proportions and China’s economy is exploding at a 9% growth rate, more than any country in the world. The USA, in comparison, has a 4% growth rate. America will find increasing competition, not with Japan, but China.

However, in spite of increasing prosperity, China is facing some huge social problems. For the last 20 years, the government has instituted “One Child Only” policy which means families are only allowed to have one child. Birth control is not an option, it is mandatory. If a family has more than one child, they will be fined heavily for each child. Since boy babies are preferred over girls, many female babies somehow disappeared from Chinese families, leaving China with a serious shortage of young females now. For every 100 women, there are 130 men. There is a rash of young women being kidnapped from cities and taken to remote villages to make up for a lack of farm brides. The shortage of women will become more serious in coming years.

At the time I was in Guangzhou, I was unaware that Time magazine was going to do a feature story about the youth of China in its Feb. 2nd issue. If you get a chance, you’d enjoy reading it as it states things that I am not allowed to write about here…I can’t write about human rights, politics, or religion. Missionaries and evangelists are strictly prohibited in both China and Vietnam and if a person is caught preaching Christianity, they will be immediately expelled from either country. In America, we take our freedoms for granted. In Vietnam and China, it is almost impossible for the average young person to get a visa to travel outside these borders. It felt so strange for us to be able to travel at will, providing we had visas, across these borders when others can’t. In time, the youth of both Vietnam and China will be changing these policies. Neither country can stop the internet, although certain sites are banned. The internet and foreigners are like a reservoir of freedom that is about to spill over the dam of information and truth control. The old is about to give way to the new.

While I read about China, hours passed invisibly and I was distracted by a strange, yet comforting sound, English. During the whole 2 weeks we were in China, I only heard 5 Chinese speak my native tongue. It was not a Chinaman who was speaking English but a foreigner named Ruben, who I introduced myself to and told him it was so good to hear English! He told me he was from Persia (the politically correct name for Iraq) and he lived in Los Angeles. We had quite a conversation. He informed me that he had a furniture business in LA and he had been coming to Guangzhou (formerly Canton) to buy handmade Chinese furniture since 1996.

Ruben was quite frank when he said, “You Americans are lazy! I was born in poverty in Iraq and I worked very hard to make enough money to come to America and start my business when I was just a teenager. The kids in America have everything handed to them. They could be rich like me if they wanted to work hard. America is the greatest country on earth…anyone could be rich if they wanted to but you Americans are apathetic, only making enough money to get by.”

Although this struck me as surreal, getting a lecture on prosperity from an Iraqi in China, there was a lot of truth in what he had to say. I felt a warning bell go off if my conscience and it told me to take note of this man’s words. I did not argue or speak, I just listened. As I’ve told my students in the classroom many times, “You don’t learn while you are speaking…you learn when you are quiet and listening.” So I listened to this Persian businessman-philosopher. As we were to learn in our travels thru China, there was a McDonalds in every city in China and in each one we found English speaking foreigners like ourselves. However, few Chinese speak our lingo. When Chinese is the most widely spoken language on the planet, they reason, why learn a minority language.

Four hours after my mates had left me in blissful solitude they returned rain-drenched but bubbly and excited. They had found bargains at a nearby market and had now increased their total baggage. It was now time for us to catch our bus to Hong Kong, the most prosperous city in China.

The 2 hour bus ride was eventful in-as-much as we had to get off and on the bus twice to go thru customs…once at the border of China and another time at the border of Hong Kong. Although Hong Kong was given back to China by the British in 1997, it is like a separate country from China and basically does its own thing. People in Hong Kong are free to come and go. People in China are not.

We arrived in the center of Hong Kong about 8 PM and somehow the kids seemed to manage to know how to get us where we needed to go by light-rail. We ended up at the facility where we were to have the conference and we were able to get into our dorm rooms a day early. We were not expected to arrive until Monday but beds were found for us and we all were thankful to have made it to our destination alive and well, although chilled to the bone.

The conference didn’t start until Wednesday nite so we had 3 days to explore Hong Kong. It is the most modern, prosperous, expensive city I’ve ever seen. Although the prices on food and clothing were astronomical, the price of public transportation was reasonable. For $20 you can buy an “Octopus” card which allows you about 3 days travel on all the public transportation vessels: busses, trains, subways, monorails, ferries, and light-rails. I spent one afternoon just riding the ferry back and forth between Kowloon and Hong Kong island. It reminded me of being on San Francisco Bay and it was the only sunny day we had during the 2 weeks of our vacation and conference. It gave me a great sense of satisfaction to be able to find my way around on Hong Kong’s public transit but truthfully, it is as easy as riding BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) in my home area.

The conference, which featured many guest speakers from all over the world was truly an international event. We had citizens from 18 different countries, with Canada having the greatest representation. I loved the conference in every way except one…it was bitter cold and the buildings in Asia are not heated, so I was chilled to the marrow the whole week I was in Hong Kong. What the weather lacked, my mates in the dormitory made up for by their warmth and goodwill, and sense of sharing and humor. I wish there was time and opportunity to share all we heard. While in Hong Kong, I acquired a digital camera so once I get using it, I’ll send you some pictures of sites along our journey after Hong Kong.

One morning, while sitting at breakfast with Richard D., one of the teachers who I knew in California, he gave me word that 2 of my friends had passed away, Chuck and Marsha. Both were unexpected deaths. With the advent of email, news travels quickly, almost as if this was a family.

On Monday, January 26th, a group of about 15 of us broke camp and traveled together from Hong Kong back to Guangzhou by bus. That afternoon, the 4 of us from CLASP, plus Lynelle’s cousin Jodi from Canada, joined us on our continuing saga thru southern China. Our batteries were recharged and we were ready for the adventure of seeing China for the next week. And what adventures we were about to have! (End of Part 2)
Friday, February 6th, 2004...“China…Part 2…”…

Tuesday, February 10th, 2004...“China…Part 3…”…

(Continuation of China trip)

During our bus trip from Hong Kong to Guangzhou, I sat next to Darrel, one of our teachers who teaches in HCM City. It made the 2 hour bus ride go quickly and we said goodbye to him in Guangzhou as he and 2 of the other teachers flew on to Vietnam. That left the 5 of us from Hanoi and 8 visitors from Canada who had attended the conference with us. The 8 Canadians got a hotel in Guangzhou and the 5 of us got train tickets to continue our China odyssey.

Now, at this point I have a confession to make. I was getting travel weary and I was ready to return to Hanoi at this point. If it wasn’t for the fact that I love these 3 young people, Lynelle, Roger and Brandon so much, I’d have returned and left them at this point. However, it would have been a great mistake, as I was to learn later. Together we are stronger than all of us alone. I was cold, tired, and out of diabetes medication and I was starting to get cranky. The goodwill of the youngsters helped keep my sagging spirits up.

We caught a night train from Guangzhou and it was on this train we were to meet 3 incredible people. Before this train, we had always traveled as 4 in a closed compartment together but now Jodi, Lynelle’s cousin from Canada was with us and there were no compartments available for our trip to Guilin so 2 of the girls had to sleep in open bunks next to our bunks. Remember, I said there were only 5 English speaking Chinese we found and it was on this train we discovered one of them, Jessica, a sweet little young college student who had wonderful English. In the same compartment were 2 young English girls who had been teaching English in China, Mandy and Kayte. I was so thrilled by the advent of finding 3 English speakers right next door. We talked until they turned the lights out on us. Jessica had the bottom bunk and I had the top bunk but she insisted of sleeping on top to keep this frail old fellow from having to climb up the steps. It still amazes me how the young show respect for the elderly here.

In the morning, when we arrived in Guilin, we exchanged email addresses and vowed to write, as traveling companions often do. (And, I will add here that we have already received a couple of emails from Jessica.)
It was raining heavily as we departed the train station with backpacks that seemed heavier than before. Here, in the train station, we found another angel, another young college student named Ying, who spoke perfectly good English, and wanted to take us weary, wet travelers to breakfast. We accepted! Then Ying helped us get bus tickets to Yangzhou. And what a bus ride we had.

This bus ride, I shall call the bus ride of faith. Had numerous guardian angels not been working overtime, this 3 hour bus ride would have ended in disaster numerous times. The driver crossed the double yellow line an uncountable number of times. That is, had there been a double yellow line. In China, as in Vietnam, the number one rule is the biggest vehicle has the right-of-way. At times, it seems that truck drivers and bus drivers want to look into each others eyes before swerving the lighter vehicle aside. There is a strong desire in each human being to stay alive. I got deeply in touch with this desire during these eternal 3 hours that the bus swerved in and out of vehicles and pedestrians on our way to what we found to be the most beautiful place in China.

In all our travels, I was never so glad to get off a vehicle as I was this bus when it finally arrived at our destination, Yangzhou. Yangzhou is off the beaten path. It has not yet been fully discovered by tourists and we were finally here. The first hotel we checked into was a nightmare. All I wanted to do was get into a hot bathtub and warm up. Before I even took my backpack off in the hotel room, I was running water from the shower hose into the tub, waiting for some sign of even a little warm water to issue forth. Without warning, the shower hose broke and freezing water drenched my shoes. At about the same time, we heard a scream from the adjoining room and Brandon and Roger were told by Jodi that a man had broken into her room. That was it. We were “outta there!” We got our money back and went to another hotel. This next one was very expensive…but I was sure it had hot water. So, we checked in to the Li River Hotel and the first thing I did was check to make sure it had hot water and good locks on the door. By US standards this would be a one star or less, hotel, but in China, this was deluxe!

The 4 youngsters had energy to burn and had been cooped up too long and wanted to explore this mystical area. The limestone rock formations here are strange and mysterious and are like none except Ha Long Bay in Vietnam. While the others hiked the hills in the rain and mist, this cold January day, I soaked in a hot bathtub and later slept.

It was dark when the exuberant youngsters returned with tails of unfathomable beauty that abounded from this strange and romantic place. I was starving as I hadn’t eaten anything but a bowl of noodles all day so we all set out together to find a good restaurant in this quaint little village. I still marvel at the wonderful restaurant we found and culinary delights that I can still savor. The restaurant overlooked the Li River, which is one of the smaller rivers in China. Most of the meals on the menu of this nameless restaurant were Western and I ordered a steak, the first I had eaten since I left the good ole US of Beef in August. The others had various dishes and we shared bites All 5 of us were deeply satisfied with our meals and as we sat eating rich chocolate cake for dessert, firework displays went off around us. It was part of the Chinese New Year celebrations.

So far, these few hours in this restaurant became the high point of our trip, thus far. I was warm and dry. I had just eaten the best meal I’d ever had in either Vietnam or China and I’d eaten chocolate cake and watched fireworks, both firsts in Asia for me. We practically had the restaurant to ourselves and our Chinese waitress was gracious and accommodating. As we leisurely sipped tea after the meal, we discussed points we had enjoyed from our Hong Kong conference. It was a rich and memorable time. My heart was knit more firmly to these 4 intelligent, sensitive young people, Lynelle, Jodi, Roger and Brandon. This would be the last time all 5 of us would have an evening together on this trip.

The next day, the 4 youngsters wanted to take a boat ride down the river. When they invited me along, at first I wanted to decline but some inner voice urged me to go. When we got down to the Li River, there was no boat, just a small lady on a raft. When I realized THIS was the boat they wanted to ride on, I begged off. This raft was 6 huge bamboo logs lashed together, navigated by a little Chinese lady who couldn’t have weighed more than 75lbs. including the heavy pole she used to guide the “craft.” Brandon urged me to go, and as this would be our last day together, I reluctantly, sat on one of 4 little stools on a plywood plank lashed to the bamboo. When I sat down, the boatwoman looked at me and at the nearly sinking raft with terror in her eyes. Roger stood at the rear of the craft as the other 3 carefully took seats on the other 3 little stools. That survival instinct started to become very strong again. Since the water line was almost up to the edge of the raft, Brandon said, “David. See how strong your faith is. See if you can walk out on the water.” “Brandon,” I said, “It took every ounce of faith I had just to get on this raft! I’m not getting off!”

We started off down the river, a river much like the Eel in Northern California. The boatwoman propelled the raft forward with her pole and I became more and more concerned as the raft was only inches above the water. The look in the boatwoman’s eyes was one of concern also. There were 4 stools on this craft for a reason…it was made for 4, not 5. It wasn’t too long until she navigated us to her houseboat. There, with relief, we got off the raft and into a battered old rowboat. At least this looked a little more seaworthy than the raft. Then, an incredible journey began. We drifted down the Li River, and for the most part, were the only vessel on the river. It was a serene, misty, day and all these fantastic limestone mountains surrounded us. Words failed us to describe them. Now this journey replaced the restaurant as the high point of our China trip. All 5 of us were spellbound. We would drift for minutes without saying anything, except perhaps, “WOW!”

We drifted down the river for about an hour, and suddenly, in this quiet and pristine setting a telephone rang. None of us had cell phones. Where was it coming from? To our amazement, here in remote China, the little boatwoman took her cell phone from her pocket and started talking! We all laughed at this comical event. What a great television commercial this would have made for her cell phone company! In Vietnam and China, almost everyone, no matter how poor, or how remote, has a cell phone and an email account.

It never occurred to me how we were going to get back upstream to Yangzhou, an hour away. The current was too strong for the little lady to paddle. So what was the solution. None of us knew. She set us ashore in a remote spot by a deserted lumber mill. Now I started to get concerned. This would have been a great place to get robbed. No one was around. No signs of life! We were virtually lost.

We walked a ways past the lumber mill and came to a busy road. Which way back to Yangzhou and how do we get there, walk? Thankfully, Brandon has a good sense of directions so he led the way and we put our thumbs out in hopes someone would have room for all 5 of us. It wasn’t long and a Chinese man in a van pulled over and, miraculously, had 5 seats and no passengers. The guardian angels came through again. Time and time again, things like this would just happen.

Back at Yangzhou we checked out of the Li River Hotel and decided we would have one last meal together before saying goodbye to Brandon. He was going to stay in Yangzhou for 3 more days and spend the month of Feb. traveling by himself around China. Then it would just be the 4 of us going back to Vietnam together, Jodi, Lynelle, Roger and I.

We found a cozy little restaurant in the market place of Yangzhou and had hot tea, coffee, and a last meal together. It was cold inside the restaurant and the waitress, seeing we were all chilled, brought a stone bucket with glowing hot coals and put under our table. In less than a minute we could feel the heat under the table embracing our feet and legs. What comfort! And what novelty. That is something you won’t see in America! I’ve seen fires ON tables but this was the first time I’ve seen a fire UNDER the table! OSHA doesn’t look lightly on putting a fire under a wood table!

After the meal, we hugged Brandon at the bus stop and we quietly, soberly, started the journey back to Guilin and eventually our journey home. Now we were going home. I would go as far as the China border with the rest of the crew, then, just inside Vietnam, at the border town of Lao Cai, I would return to Hanoi by train and the others would go on to Sapa for a last weekend before returning to work. (END of Part 3...final Part 4 to come)

Friday, February 13th, 2004...“China…Part 4(FINAL)…”…

(Continuation of China trip…last installment)

There was a quietness within the 4 of us, Roger, Lynelle, Jodi, and I as we started the bus trip from Yangzhou to Guilin. Brandon was the “life of our party” with his guitar everywhere we went. Now we had left the man and his music behind and it was a bit of a sad parting, although I knew we’d see Brandon again, back in Hanoi in a month. Almost with fatherly concern, I worried about Brandon traveling alone in China by himself. However, even at the time we left him, I realized he would not be alone. There always seemed to be an unseen force looking out for us wherever we went, like the miraculous empty van stopping on the deserted road to pick all of us up earlier in the day. Perhaps the bus ride back to Guilin was just as harrowing as the one coming, but there was not the same anxiety or worry in my heart and eyes this trip. Maybe all the experiences of Yangzhou had strengthened by weak faith. Stepping out in faith on a flimsy bamboo raft was certainly one of them!

When we arrived at Guilin our little angel, Ying, was there to meet us with her sparkling eyes, broad smile, and perfect English. She helped us buy train tickets for a trip back to Nanning. At this point, I had a decision to make…should I go on from Nanning to Hanoi while the others went to Sapa or travel with them? The decision was made for me. I wanted at this point to go home so badly. I felt physically exhausted and had the worst cold I’ve ever had. However, this was Wednesday and there wouldn’t be another train from Nanning to Hanoi until Saturday…so it was on with the troops.

We arrived in a cold and quiet Nanning about 9 PM that same night. We needed to get a hotel but so far, my batting average in choosing hotels for us was zilch-point-zero. I let Lynelle do the haggling and choosing, and after 3 rounds of negotiating at 2 different hotels, we settled on an 8 story place for $2 per person. You get what you pay for. This place was more stark than any hotel I’d ever slept in even in 57 years of life on planet earth. The hallway to our room from the 4 flights of stairs we’d climbed up with full combat gear, was longer than 2 of my Air Force barracks put together, only much drabber. When we finally came to our room, at the end of the long, dimly lit hall, I laughed when I saw the room. There were 4 small beds, and one chair in the most barren, Spartan hotel room in China. There was one small light in the huge room. The bathroom had a shower hose but no shower stall. You took a shower and let the water go all over the floor. Of course, as in all public facilities in Vietnam and China, this is a “bring your own toilet paper” society. Toilet paper is a luxury that is not furnished here.

Perhaps, as fair warning, I should take this opportunity to inform future Asian travelers, especially the more dainty and delicate type, of something you need to be aware of before you come here. First, the trains here lack a little something in the toilet compartment, like, for example, a toilet. Since this is an item you usually don’t carry around in your backpack, you have to make do with the wee little hole in the floor. Forgive me if this seems too graphic but it is better to be informed than surprised. It was ironic that in a “five-star” hotel in Guangzhou I found no Western toilets in the hotel restroom but in all McDonalds there are. Now I know why there are so many foreigners eating at the golden arches in China. As mentioned previously, no McDonalds at all exist in Vietnam. This is for political reasons that I am not free to go into here. When he comes back, Brandon jokingly suggested writing a guidebook about China listing all places with Western-style toilets.

After a restless night in “the barracks” at Nanning, we knew this time right where the McDonalds was so we made a beeline there for brunch. However, when 4 people travel together, the old Mexican travel adage is always true: “When you travel alone you come and go when you are ready…when you travel with others, you come and go when the last one is ready.” With the 4 of us, it seems we were always waiting on either Jodi or I to bring up the rear. Now the story gets interesting.

While in the McDonalds in Nanning, we met Janet, a young college student that Debbie L. from Boston and Evelyn P. from HCM had met two years before in Nanning. They had given us Janet’s phone number when we were at the conference together in Hong Kong and told us to call Janet and give her their greetings. Because she had kept in touch with these ladies via email over the last 2 years, we had Janet’s phone number and she promptly met us at the McDonalds there in Nanning. While visiting with her, just out of wishful thinking to have a Chinese guide, I invited her to travel on with us into Vietnam. Much to our amazement she instantly accepted the invitation!

What serendipity! We had just acquired a brilliant Chinese guide who spoke wonderful English…a rarity in China. However, there were some hurdles to jump over first. She had no suitcase or clothes with her so Lynelle and Jodi took her shopping and got some items for her to travel with on our journey ahead…and there was a matter of her buying a train ticket on a train that was already packed with TET holiday travelers. We were pushed for time and we ran to the train station with full backpacks, Janet trailing carrying just a shopping bag of the bare necessities for this spur of the moment trip.

We left her at the ticket window as we ran to the train that was just ready to depart for Kunming. We barely got on and I watched out the window for Janet. There was no sign of her. The whistle blew. The brakes on the coaches sounded their release. The train started to pull out with no sign of Janet coming from the station to the train. After all our excitement she didn’t make it.

We all settled into our berths as the train pulled out of Nanning. There was a somber quietness in all of us. We knew how heart-broken Janet must have felt after all that preparation to get her ready to travel with us and now she was left behind. I could picture the tears in her eyes. This was the low point of the whole China trip.

Downcast, I climbed into my upper berth and began to write in my log. My mates were quiet and gloomy too. After about an hour out of Nanning, Roger said the sun was shining outside, the first time that had happened in the last 2 weeks so I was coaxed down out of my gloom to look out on the sun shining on fields in the late afternoon. Lynelle amused herself my teaching a little Chinese girl to say her ABC’s. Suddenly, Lynelle squealed with delight. Lynelle was hugging Janet!!! She had made it but it took her over an hour to find us on the train! She had miraculously gotten a ticket at the last minute and she was off with us to Vietnam! Janet was to prove to be indispensable help to us for the rest of our time in China.

We talked way into the night and exchanged our life stories. Then toward midnight we climbed into our bunks in this packed train and I slept soundly until we arrived in Kunming the next morning. Now, at this point I have to add that I saw something everyday in China that I’d never seen before in Vietnam; my breath! I was cold to the bone the whole time we were in China, even on the trains. I had on my long underwear and my sweat suit over them. Then I had my trousers on and 3 sweaters…and I was still cold! I was to remain cold until I returned to Vietnam.

Before the train ever stopped in the rail station in Kunming, I could see the breath of the people outside and knew this January day was going to be cold also. When we got off the train, Janet talked to the ticket agent in the station and was able to get us 5 bus tickets for Hu Kou, a Chinese village which is on the Vietnam border. At 10:30 that morning, Lynelle, Roger, Janet, Jodi and I stepped onto a packed Chinese bus for a ride I will never forget. The scenery was spectacular, from Kunming thru 500 kms (about 400 miles) of countryside that looked identical in every respect to No. Calif. Some scenes made me think of the Cloverdale area. Some scenes made me think of the Shasta Lake area. The scenery was beautiful. The only thing that diminished this trip was the driver had Chinese action videos blaring for most of the ride…and I was starting to get a headache. After about 8 hours of the 10 hour ride I had a pounding headache.

Out in the fields farmers hoed soil by hand. Men and women were doing the same manual labor their ancestors did thousands of years before. Interspersed in the countryside would be ultra-modern villages that were still being built, likely by the booming government treasury, filled by Western money. China was such a contrast of prosperity and poverty side-by-side.

When we finally got to Hu Kou, which sits across the Red River from Lao Cai, Vietnam, I felt great relief in knowing I was only a day’s journey from home. Janet, Jodi and Lynelle got a hotel room across from Roger and I and we had our first real Chinese meal since coming to China 2 weeks before. Hu Kou was too small to have a McDonalds.

Roger and I cleared customs the next morning in a big, modern Western-style building where the Chinese soldiers were polite but very formal and direct. We were the only 2 in the building that morning besides the customs soldiers. Before we walked across the bridge between China and Vietnam, Roger showed a guard his Australian passport and I showed the guard my American passport. As often happened, the guard asked if Roger was my son. Seems strange I thought, for an American to have an Australian son, although I’d certainly be proud to have a son like Roger.

I’ll never forget the walk over the bridge that spans the Red River between China and Vietnam. It was like going thru a time machine. Hu Kou reminded me of a miniature San Diego and Lao Cai reminded me of a very poor and small Tijuana. The contrast between the modern, prosperous China and impoverished Vietnam was so stark and real at that crossing.

I almost bent down and kissed the red soil of Vietnam when we came to the other side. The temperature seemed almost balmy, and warm. The Vietnamese guards were familiar and friendly. While we cleared customs in a battered shack at the Vietnam border, I studied a blue and white map on the wall trying to identify the geography. Then I realized it was no map but blue paint peeling away from a white wall. I smiled and felt at home again.

Roger and I got a xe om (motorbike taxi) to take us to the train station. There I bought a train ticket for Hanoi and Roger and I would have breakfast together before he went back to the border to fetch Janet, Jodi, and Lynelle who wanted to sleep in. I would leave the others behind here and go on home. I was exhausted, out of money, and had the mother of all colds. Roger would go back to the border and wait for the 3 girls and then get a bus with them to go to the resort town to spend the weekend in Sapa.

Before I got on the train I hugged Roger goodbye. We had gotten incredibly close, all of us, traveling together, helping each other put our backpacks on, looking out for each other. I wouldn’t see Janet again but I learned from the others later that she had the time of her life with them in Sapa, staying up late talking about the purpose of life and seeing the sunrise from a mountain-top together. I wish I could have been there but I’d already gone past my limits. We never know where our limits are until we’ve gone past them. This 2 week journey in China expanded the borders of my heart and gave me greater appreciation for both Vietnam and America.

Chapter 3...Part #2

2008-11-21T21:15:00.000-08:00

Chapter 3 (Part #2)

Sat. Nov. 29, 2003...Our Comfort Zone…

“Only those who risk going too far will ever know how far they can go.”
The above quote hangs above my desk as a constant reminder to get out of my comfort zone each day. I’ve got such a tendency to just stay here in my safe secure little room like a hermit in a cave. That still small voice keeps nudging me to get out on the street and experience this incredible culture and meet the people here. The turtle that I am keeps begging me to pull my head inside my shell and hide. The still small voice says, “Don’t be a coward! Get out of your comfort zone! Go out and meet new people and see new sights!” That still small voice afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted.

All I have to do in Hanoi to see things I’ve never seen before is just go outside our door to our street, Doi Can. I see things every day I’ve never seen before just walking to school, which is on the same street I live on. Each day is a mirror of my life. I remember the day the director of our school sent me an email in California inviting me to come here and teach. That letter caused me such anguish because I was torn between coming to teach in a place that was WAY OUTSIDE my comfort zone or staying in a safe, comfortable environment. Oh how I shudder now to think what a tragedy and mistake it would have been to stay in a safe place! There is no safer place on the earth I can be now! I walk down our dark lane at 10 PM each night after school and I feel safer here at night than I did walking the streets of San Jose in the middle of the day!!!

In the school, I have many role models of people who’ve left their comfort zones to be of great benefit and help to others. Brandon and Lynell are such wonderful inspirations and encouragement to me and all of us at our school. Brandon is from Ontario, Ore and is a 24-year-old, mild mannered, gifted teacher. Lynell is 19, from Victoria, BC and is a creative, vivacious dynamo. Brandon came in Sept. a month after I did, and Lynell came last month. Both have brought such energy and vitality to our school.

Last night I sat in on one of Brandon’s children’s classes and was very impressed with his lessons. He is making learning English such fun for these kids. When I went from the first to the third floor to get some tape for Brandon, I could hear the children’s laughter ringing throughout the building! What music to my ears! Brandon also plays the guitar and sings very well and is popular with the young and adult students alike. Lynell has an incredible love for people, especially children. She is a “people magnet.” People are just drawn to her.

Both Brandon and Lynell, unconsciously, are causing me to daily step outside my comfort zone and do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do. This past Monday, after getting back to Hanoi after a week in Ho Chi Minh City, Brandon invited me to go with him and a group of other young people on a day long excursion to Tam Do, a mountain village by motorbike some 60 kms from here. After declining, the next morning at the sound of the rooster crowing, I repented and felt this coward’s heart needed to be pushed to further limits. I went and was very glad I did. It broadened my borders and enlarged my heart, not to mention seeing one of the most beautiful places on the whole planet! I might have a 57-year-old body but the company I’m keeping is causing me to have an 18-year-old heart!

Brandon, Lynell and I are planning a train trip to China and Hong Kong in January when the school is closed for Tet, the Vietnamese lunar New Year. This is another thing I wouldn’t ordinarily do on my own, and I certainly wouldn’t do it alone. In preparation for our trip, one of the teachers here, who is from Taiwan, is teaching us Chinese two nights a week after our classes are over…another step outside the comfort zone.

Each time we are willing to take a step outside our comfort zone it increases our willingness to take yet another step on the adventure, which is called Life. I see teachers here who’ve left their homeland to come and teach a people eager and willing to learn. I see people so deeply appreciative and respectful of foreigners who’ve come here to labor. It would have been so easy for Brandon and Lynell to stay home with their families and friends and just plan a life of marriage, home and family. Yet, here they are…outside their comfort zones and growing, thriving, and prospering. Oh how I long other young people and older ones too, would be willing to leave their comfort zones and take similar steps. We never grow until we leave our comfort zone.

Sat. Dec. 6, 2003... “The Great Hanoi Victory Parade”…

“There is no such thing as an unimportant day.”

This has been a rather remarkable week. I shudder to think how it will end at close of the day but thus far, it has been anything but a “typical week.” However, thus far in this rather remarkable country there hasn’t BEEN a typical week. No week has resembled the last…and no day has resembled the last. All I have to do is step outside our door and walk across Doi Can St. or now, I should say TRY to walk across Doi Can.

Last week I wrote that there is probably no place on earth I felt safer than here. Open mouth, insert foot. Speak words, eat words. Well, Sunday, while crossing our busy street, in a period of relatively light traffic, , I was blind-sided from behind by a motorbike. Somehow I was able to stay upright but it tore the left leg of my trousers almost completely off and put a wound in my leg. The driver of the motorbike looked more dazed than I did. It embarrassed me more than anything else as I had to hold my trousers together to finish my walk home to repair myself. Very few people witnessed the event, only about half of Hanoi. Here, an accident of any magnitude is a spectator sport as the only violence that exists is accidental.

My ego was more bruised than anything else. While my wounded leg and bruised ego were healing, I got the flu on Tues. I doubt the motorbike incident caused it. So, after 3 days in bed and very little food, I went to school on Thursday nite with a ravenous appetite. After my class was over, I asked Brandon if he would take me on his motorbike downtown to a Western restaurant called Alfrescos for a pizza. He kindly agreed.

Now there is one very important detail I need to mention at this point in my story. Vietnam is crazy about soccer, which they call “football.” I’ve always thought they have the term right. In American football there is very little “foot” and a whole lot of “sock”…so we should call our NFL soccer, not football. Anyway…I digress…it must have been the motorbike accident. As I said, Vietnam goes hysterical over their national team and this week is the most glorious week in Vietnam because the 22nd SEAGAMES are being held right now throughout this land. The SEAGAMES are held once every 2 years in Southeast Asia and this year, for the first time, perhaps ever, they are being held here. 11 countries are competing for gold medals in this mini-Olympics.

On Thursday afternoon Indonesia played Vietnam in soccer for a berth in the semi-finals. The stadium is a mile from our school but when Vietnam scored their lone goal a roar could easily be heard at our school. That lone goal stood up as Vietnam went on to win 1-0.

Meanwhile, back to Brandon and I on the motorbike headed to downtown Hanoi for pizza. We hadn’t traveled on the streets of Hanoi for very long before it became apparent this was to be a week like no other in the capital city of Vietnam. People were out in mass. Waving the national red flag with the lone yellow star in the center. They had the flag painted on their faces. They wore red head-bands. They were yelling and celebrating as if they had just beat the Denver Broncos in the Superbowl!

We had not traveled very far when I felt going anywhere tonight was a bad idea. Had Brandon wanted to turn back I would have seconded the motion but Brandon is not easily frightened. All of a sudden we were in a sea of motorbikes and it became apparent to me we could no more turn back than a lone steer could reverse the flow of a stampede! Another thing became apparent to me. We were the only foreigners in this flow of red. And another thing became apparent to me. We were the only ones who didn’t have a spot of red on. One motorbike driver next to us said in perfectly good English, “WHERE is your flag???”

Suddenly, I spotted a lady selling Vietnamese flags and head-bands on the curb. I begged Brandon to pull over while I quickly purchased two small flags and a head-band. From then on, we felt safe, although the wall-to- wall motorbikes limited our progress downtown to Alfrescos. Brandon did a super job of keeping his motorbike and me upright and moving upstream as we arrived alive at the Western restaurant.

Ever since Brandon took his children’s class to Alfrescos a month ago to try pizza for the first time, he has been given preferential treatment by the staff there and he was greeted by name when we arrived. We were ushered upstairs and seated at the balcony where we could watch the celebrations on the street below. Brandon and I searched for a word to describe the scene. It was “pandemonium.” Neither of us had ever seen anything like it before. We had just ridden in the greatest victory parade in Hanoi history. At least, modern history.

There was no end in sight to the celebrating. As we watched all this, it struck me: there was no alcohol involved in all this! We never saw one person drinking or drunk during all this revelry. I am not saying that some people had not been drinking but this flow of red-flag-waving motorbikes was a controlled pandemonium. It was like a flock of starlings when they swoop one way and then another, almost chaotically but in unison and harmony, without breaking formation! Almost as if they had one connected mind. That is how the flow went.

Hanoi was like a city in America after they had just won the Superbowl…only without drinking and without something that often accompanies alcohol use: violence. No cars were overturned and set on fire. No windows were broken. No one was killed. No guns were fired. No one was even hurt according to the account in the newspaper the next morning. It was exuberant, controlled pandemonium. It was controlled by something that defines the Vietnamese character and culture: RESPECT.

Respect is at the heart and soul of Vietnam. There is a deep engrained respect for the family, the parents, and the authority of the culture and country here. Respect kept those crazed, celebrating citizens from destroying property or each other. And us! In fact, when they saw a couple of white-skinned Westerners riding along side of them carrying Vietnamese flags with red head-bands they laughed, smiled, and gave us a “thumbs-up.”

This will be a week I will never forget. Before this week I had 2 little American flags on the wall of my bedroom. Now, as a memorial to the “Great Hanoi Victory Parade” I have a little red flag of Vietnam closely snuggled between them! I am coming to love this land…and I’m gaining a DEEP respect for the Vietnamese.

Sun. Dec. 14, 2003... No Rest Homes Here…

“Your only treasures are those which you carry in your heart."

Winter has come to Hanoi! It has turned cold this week so I brought out my sweater, fleece vest, and coat, all on one day. While riding on the back of a motorbike I realized this cold can go right thru you like a knife. However, to offset the cold we had a very warm and productive 3 day teacher-student conference at our school. There is so much I would like to write about but that will have to wait for another day. I could write volumes about some of my experiences here but most of what is treasured in my heart will have to wait until I can come home and share one on one with you, as well as share pictures that I’ve taken.

“Your only treasures are those which you carry in your heart."
Although the above quote was sent to me by my cousin in Denver, this could easily have been the theme of the last 3 days. I have hundreds of pictures that I’ve taken while I’ve been here but in essence, what I will come home with from Vietnam is what is in this enlarged heart of mine. Every experience we go thru effects us in one way or another…and the condition of our heart will either determine if we become harder or softer. The same boiling water that makes the egg hard, makes the potato soft. Although I have no family over here to share my experiences with, I am amazed at how my heart is being knit together with so many of my colleagues and students. I didn’t know a single person here when I first came to Hanoi 3 months ago but now I feel I have “a family” here. The conference this weekend almost felt like a family reunion!

I’ve got a writing assignment for you, my friends and family. Many of my students here have asked me to describe our American holiday of Christmas. Would you please send me a few paragraphs of what Christmas means to you, if anything. I am rather at a loss as to know what to write. Each year at this time of year, I try to attend at least one performance of Handel’s Messiah. Here, since there are no Christian churches, there will be no Messiah performed, not at least in Hanoi. There are Christian churches in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) as any churches that existed in the former country known as South Vietnam before the change in government in 1975 are allowed to continue to exist. Here in Hanoi there is only one old Catholic cathedral. That is the extent of organized religion outside Buddhist places of worship. 90% of this country are nominal Buddhists. Each home has a shrine where they burn incense to the ancestors.

As I’ve chronicled in past emails, the family is the supreme foundation of Vietnamese life and culture. Governments can come and go. Centuries can come and go but the family will remain so long as our Western influences and ideas don’t erode family values. Compare the divorce rate in America with that here in Vietnam. We’ve now achieved the highest divorce rate in the world, topping 50%. Guess what Vietnam’s divorce rate is? If you guess 1% you are too high. The divorce rate here is .7%…that is POINT 7 percent…less than 1%.

One of the questions I ask my students is, “Why is the divorce rate so low in Vietnam?” Their answers usually center around one of three things: (1) traditional values (2) keeping family intact for children and (3) the strength, tenacity, and determination of Vietnamese women to keep their marriage together at any cost! I keep coming to the same conclusion: We Americans have so much to learn from Vietnam!

Before I came to Vietnam I bought a guidebook called, “Lonely Planet…Vietnam Phrasebook.” In the introduction, I was not struck by the following passage, while reading it is America, but now that I’ve been here for three months I feel this is both accurate and profound:

“When learning a language, it’s useful to have a basic understanding of some aspects of the culture. There are three things you are sure to notice when traveling in Vietnam. One of these is the respect that is held for elders. According to Vietnamese beliefs, each generation inherits cultural perspectives and expectations of life from previous generations. Elderly people are, as a result, highly respected. The reasons are simple: they made great sacrifices for their country, their patriotism prevented foreign invasion, and they are now the only link between the dead and the living.”

Can you understand a little why there are no rest homes here? Can you understand what it would be like to see the eyes of the elderly here glistening and brightly shining because they are reverenced? When I was working as Bob Pfister’s caregiver in San Jose, I would take him to the rest home almost everyday to see his wife and I’d just cringe at seeing all the people with glazed-over eyes, just waiting for death to come and take them from their miserable existences. However, in the dining room, there was a group of about 4 Asian elderly ladies. I don’t know if they were Chinese or Japanese but they, unlike the others, had a twinkle in their eyes and a smile on their face. They usually always had visitors also. They were cherished, and they knew they were cherished, even though they were in the rest home. That struck me, even before I saw elderly people here.

Wed. Dec. 17, 2003... Chantal…VN #22

My Dear Family and Friends,

“The world will stand aside to let any pass…If he knows where he is going."

Every person on this earth has a dream. Few people dare to dream their dream and even fewer ever have the courage or ability to live their dream. Chantal Charbonneau is living her dream. At the time I am writing this she is now flying from Hanoi to Singapore on the 8th leg of a one year tour around the world. Chantal’s dream, since she was a little girl, was to travel around the world. Chantal has made the choice to make her dream become a reality. This story is about making your dream become a reality.

A month ago, when I was in Ho Chi Minh City, (formerly Saigon) I took a one day sight-seeing tour with nine other people. I sat next to Chantal in the tour van and instantly took a liking to her. She was pleasant, outgoing, and friendly. In the course of our day together and having lunch with her, I learned Chantal was in the midst of a dream come true. A native of Quebec, Canada, she spoke both French and English and had always dreamed of touring the world. For 20 years she saved up her money and 7 months ago she sold her house in Canada and left her family’s printing business to buy a 1 year travel package on Singapore Airlines to make a 1 month stop in 12 countries. Her 7th country was Vietnam. She is now on her way to Australia via Singapore.

This week’s assignment for my Intermediate Communication class and Pre-Intermediate class is to write and tell about their dreams. Since many of us never formulate nor verbalize our dream, little less live our dream, I thought it would be a good idea to bring Chantal into my classroom and have my students interview her and get her to tell about her 1 month tour of Vietnam and the world. It is the dream of most of my students to travel abroad, especially to America and other English speaking countries. Chantal told them how to make that dream come true. Many foreign companies are now being established in Vietnam and many require or encourage their employees to speak English since it is the international language of commerce and finance and may someday become the most common language of the world. Already, in the second largest country in the world, India, more people speak English than any one Indian dialect. In the largest country in the world, China, English is more in demand than any other language. The same is true for Vietnam. Learning English is one of the first steps in making the dream to travel abroad become easier.

As my students asked her one question after another they began to piece together Chantal’s dream. She is 40 years old. She has never been married. She was one of 4 members of her family who had worked in her family’s small printing business in Quebec. She loves animals, especially puppies. On her tour around the world she spent one month in each of the following countries: England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Italy, Greece and Vietnam. After Australia, Chantal will go on to New Zealand, Tahiti, and then end her tour in the United States. She will return home to Canada in May, one year to the day she started her amazing world tour.

Last night, Chantal told the class about her incredible month in Vietnam. She has gone from the southern end of the country to the northern end and toured all the major cities, Da Nang, Sapa, Hue, the Mekong Delta, Da Lat, besides of course, HCM and Hanoi. She chose Vietnam over all other Asian countries because it has the lowest crime rate and is very safe for a single woman to travel alone in. She encouraged the students, before traveling abroad to discover their own country first. She said it was so varied and different, from one place to another. Chantal told the students about places in Vietnam they had never even heard of. She told about the borders of her heart had being enlarged by her travel experiences and the people she’s met on her journey.

As the students asked Chantal questions, you could seem the gleam in their eyes and the intent, rapt interest. They longed to do the same. They were reassured that their dreams could become a reality. And she told them she was saving the best for last. Her favorite singer, they learned, is Celine Dion. She will spend her final week in May in Las Vegas, Nevada where 18 of her friends are flying from Canada to meet her. They all will go with Chantal to attend a live concert where Celine will perform. Like Chantal, Celine Dion, also a native of Quebec, is living her dream. As the 13th child in a very large family, Celine has risen to stardom and fame. Chantal can recite Celine’s biography for over an hour, as if reading it out of a book.

Thu. Dec. 25, 2003... Christmas in Vietnam…

“The Grinch couldn‘t steal Christmas…it wasn‘t a thing, a place or a time…Christmas was a spirit in the heart!" (from “The Grinch who Stole Christmas” By Dr. Seuss.

Last year at Christmas, I had gone home to Denver to spend time with my mom and relatives in Colorado. I remember going for a walk on Christmas morning wondering where I would be on Christmas day in 2003. Likely I’d have laughed in unbelief if someone would have told me I’d be in Vietnam this Christmas.

The Vietnamese do not celebrate Christmas. Today was just a regular workday in Hanoi. Therefore, it was so surreal to hear the school children in the elementary school next to our home (and I mean RIGHT next to our home) singing “We wish you a Merry Christmas” at 7:30 this morning. Western influence is creeping into Vietnam, and it’s creeping as slow as a tidal wave! In the 4 months I’ve been here I see this country opening like a rose. Prosperity is coming to Vietnam. FAST!

But Toto, we are still not in Kansas yet. Nor Colorado. Nor America. Take today for example. I had told my 3 housemates, Roger, Rex and Brandon that I’d cook them a traditional American Christmas turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Our lone Western woman teacher, Lynelle, offered to help me. I was busy all day yesterday so decided to buy the ingredients for the dinner today. You don’t buy turkey in Hanoi at the last minute…nor hardly any other time. Turkey is an unknown commodity here. However, there are 2 Western markets here and I figured they’d have turkey. The first market, L’s Place, was ACTUALLY CLOSED! Probably the only business establishment besides our school that was closed on Christmas day here in Hanoi! Fortunately, the second place, was open and I was able to get two turkey legs.

So, in our little microwave I somehow was able to miraculously cook turkey legs. There are no ovens in the homes here, just butane 2 burner stoves…kind of like looking on a Coleman camping stove. Then in the largest pot we have, I put in potatoes to boil to make mashed potatoes and in the other pot I put in carrots. I was able to scrape together enough turkey drippings to make a small pot of turkey gravy. After considerable effort, and untold kilometers on the back of Roger’s motorbike, 8 of us sat down to a meal of mashed potatoes and gravy, 2 turkey drumsticks, a pot of carrots and…thanks to Lynelle, a loaf of homemade bread, a wonderful tossed green salad with walnuts and mangos, and for dessert, pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

Also present with us were 3 Vietnamese who were having this traditional American Christmas dinner for the first time. Chi and Phuong are my colleagues on a side-job I have writing for the Vietnam Social Sciences Journal. The Journal is an official government review that comes out once every two months. The other native guest was Anh, who is one of our teachers. She teaches basic English to our Vietnamese students who have no English speaking skill at all. All 3 girls are very fluent in English and the conversation around the dinner-table was lively and filled with laughter. It was one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had, in spite of having to share 2 drumsticks with 8 others. In fact, it was as good a Christmas as I can ever remember. No tree, no lights, no glitter, just food and friends and laughter and good conversation. Maybe that is what the holiday season is really about. Wherever I am next year at Christmas, it is hard to imagine it being any better than this one. Vietnam never ceases to amaze me. Vietnam IS my Christmas present and the friends and “family” I’ve discovered here.

Chapter 3 (Part #1)

2008-11-20T18:51:00.000-08:00

Chapter 3…A Change in the Air…

Mon. Nov. 3, 2003...Noise…

Since there is a huge industrial size compressor and jack-hammer pounding away just 2 feet from our front door, I can think of no other topic to write about today than noise. Noise is a constant thing here in Hanoi. In the narrow lane we live off of, they are putting a new sewer drain in and they fire up the compressor and jack-hammer at 4 AM. There is no such concept evidently, of consideration for your sleeping neighbors. These workmen have been working for the past week and they sleep and eat on the job sight. The other nite, coming home from school, as I turned into our dark lane, I saw three young workmen sleeping on a slab of plywood, without blanket, pillow or bedding. No wonder they wanted to start work early! It is very common here to see workers put up a tent and sleep on the job sight.

On Doi Can, the street our school is on and also the lane our house is off of, there is a constant stream of horn honking. Sometimes I see cars and motorbikes honking for no other reason than to make noise. At first, while I was trying to teach, this was very annoying and distracting but in time, in the classroom I hardly notice it now. It is amazing what you can adjust to when you have to.

Most people own their own roosters and hens so we hear the neighbor’s chickens, dogs, cats, televisions, and conversations all at the same time. The walls are paper thin so I can usually hear neighbors talk, play music, sneeze, blow their nose and a myriad of other activities thru the walls. Like most homes here, we share common walls with neighbors on all sides of us. Construction around us is constant as Hanoi is a city in perpetual remodeling.

In December Vietnam is hosting the 22nd SEA GAMES and many visitors will be coming to Hanoi. This is a mini-Olympics for the Southeast Asian countries and Hanoi is sprucing up and putting its best face on as there will be television crews here from all over Asia here. The homeless have been skirted off the streets and taken to “homeless villages” in the far flung provinces. Prostitution has either gone underground or disappeared altogether. The government is putting policeman out in droves to show a strong presence here before all the international visitors flood in soon. But the noise does not stop.

There are only two places in Hanoi that I’ve found solitude and quietness. The first is the campus of Hanoi University of Technology and the other is the grounds of Ho Chi Minh’s home and mausoleum. These are little islands of tranquility in a sea of cacophony. This goes to prove that there is a sense of respectful silence in some places. But not on Doi Can St.

Wedns. Nov. 5, 2003...ROOTS…

Duong (pronounced very roughly, DU WONG) is my favorite student. He is 28 and comes from a poor farming village near Da Nang in central Vietnam, about 500 miles from Hanoi. Of the 11 children in his family he is the youngest. He is very bright and got a scholarship to attend a university in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). After receiving his engineering degree 3 years ago he was hired by a joint venture company that is headquartered in Korea but has an office and plant here in Hanoi. He makes a good salary.

However, because it requires an expensive flight on the government owned airline, Vietnam Airlines, (which is, by the way, the only airline allowed to fly the forbidden skies here) AND because it would in addition require ground transportation of over 2 hours to his remote village, Duong only sees his parents about once a year. He can’t call his parents because their village does not have phone service. As Duong was relating all this to me, his eyes filled with tears. He told me he loves his parents very much. They have lived a hard life as rice farmers and encouraged him to leave the village and have a better life. He is torn between prosperity and a coveted career and being with his family. Duong’s roots go down deep into Vietnam’s family soul.

When we first meet a person, we are immediately aware of the exterior…how tall or short, how fat or thin, how attractive or unattractive that person is. We try not to get taken up with outward appearances because we know, more than anything else, that the REAL person is not on the outside but on the inside. And, so it is with any culture, especially this culture, the Vietnamese culture. The essence is hidden at first.

Now, little by little, the layers of the onion are getting peeled away and a few of the essential essences of this fascinating land are coming into focus. I am starting to see things about this society and culture that I could not possibly have seen or known three months ago when I first arrived here. I was taken up with how horrendous the traffic was, how different the people and the food were (and no, I haven’t eaten dog yet) and so many other outward trappings. Now, gradually, and primarily thru my students, I’m seeing the very roots of Vietnamese culture. Duong has been a little window into the roots of Vietnam’s heart and soul.

When you see a tree off in the distance you can’t make out much more than the shape and color of the tree. As you get closer you start to see the texture of the bark and the kind of fruit it bears. As you stand next to the tree you can see the shape of the fruit and even pay attention to individual leaves. But then, to really get to know the tree you have to dig underneath the surface to discover the root system of the tree. And what do you think is at the very core of the Vietnamese society and culture? What are the roots of this ancient land? The roots are the FAMILY.

In my wildest imagination, I could not have envisioned family ties that are as strong as those here in Vietnam. I have 5 classes here at the school and I ask my students many of the same questions…including “where do you live and how many people live in the same home with you?” In one of my classes there are 14 students and all except one lives with his parents. These are students who range in age from 15 to 44. And no, it is not the 44 year old who lives separate from the parents. It is Duong.

To buy a home in Hanoi would be impossible for a newlywed couple. Besides, the custom is that newlyweds always live with the groom’s parents…indefinitely! There are usually at least 3 generations living in every Vietnamese household; grandparents, parents, and children. Most of my students say they enjoy living with their parents and grandparents and it works out very well. Try that on for size in America and see if it fits. A little too tight and too close for comfort eh? In Vietnam it not only fits but it is the preferred family living arrangement. The Vietnamese LOVE…and I mean DEEPLY LOVE…their family members. They enjoy being together as much as possible.

Here it is rare and very improper for a young man and young woman to live together before marriage. I only have one student who admits to that living arrangement and her parents live in a distant province and village so they are not aware of it…or so she says. I asked my married students if they want to get a home of their own and move away from their parents. They look at me with a puzzled look. The concept of moving away from their parents never crosses their mind they answer. Besides, it is the duty and responsibility of at least one child to always live at home until the death of both parents. Then, that child inherits the family home.

Moving your feeble or infirm parent to a rest home is another unheard of and incomprehensible concept. People have more value to the society and to the family, the older they get in Vietnam, not less. The older you are, the more respect you gain. When I told students in my class about rest homes in America they looked at me as if I were joking. Such a thing does not exist here, nor is it likely to. Older family members are cherished and venerated. When they die they are worshipped.

Family altars exist in almost every shop and home in Vietnam. Daily, incense is burned and fruit or some favorite substance of the departed is offered to the spirit of grandpa or grandma or those more ancient. Just as a grieving widow may visit the grave of her late beloved, so too, do the Vietnamese daily keep in remembrance deceased family. Family is more precious than anything else in this culture. Family is sacred.

We in America love our family but how many of us would want our children and their mates to live with us for the rest of our lives? Or, how many people lovingly and willingly want their aged or infirm parent to live with them, to nurture and take care of them until they depart? These very concepts are undesirable to most of us, yet they are and the roots and core of Vietnamese culture. The family is the very soul of this society.

As I write these things I feel a sense of frustration because I can’t express strongly enough how important the family is to Vietnam. Everything revolves around the family. Duong wants to make enough money to buy a home and move his parents here but he knows they won’t leave their ancient village. They want him to have a better life. Duong is the only student I have that is not in daily contact with his/her parents. His roots are in his family and I can see the sorrow and grief on his face when he talks about his deep love for his home and parents.

This society is thousands of years old and the roots are in family traditions and values. We are babies. American society is about 250 years old. We are but a newly planted sapling in comparison to Vietnam which is like a 2,000 year old California Redwood. The whole concept of family here is making me rethink my own values. When we have no culture or society to compare our own to, we think ours is the only right one. More than anything else, being in Vietnam is making me miss and appreciate my own land, family and roots. In all sincerity and honesty, I can say MY TRUE ROOTS are going down deeper!!

Mon. Nov. 10, 2003...My First Vietnamese Wedding…

East is EAT and West is BEST, at least as far as weddings are concerned. I attended my first Vietnamese wedding on Sat. and I have to say, here the difference between America and Vietnam is as dinstant as Mars is from Earth. I thought our Western weddings were an endurance test but try eating your way thru one of these 3 day epic banquets.

The average Vietnamese wedding lasts for at least 3 days, longer in the villages. No, I did not participate in all 3 days of the non-stop partying and feasts. I merely attended a 3 hour mini-session, just a mere sprint in comparison of the over-all marital marathon. Next to the importance of family, there is probably nothing as different in our 2 cultures as weddings and marriage.

Let’s start from the beginning. One of the students, Binh (pronounced “Bing”), who is a young lady of undeterminable age, invited me to her wedding. Having never been to a Vietnamese wedding, I was curious. On Friday night, in an effort to prepare myself, I talked to my class about Western weddings. Much to my amazement they sat with rapt attention and their eyes grew wide as I explained our courtship, love and marriage procedures. There is NO subject that I’ve ever discussed with my classes that got as much attention and interest as this subject. The Vietnamese are spell-bound by the topic of love, romance and marriage.

After I explained in great detail the average Western marriage ceremony, I asked them to tell me about THEIR courtship, love and romance, and wedding traditions and ceremonies. Then it was MY turn to get big eyed, drop my jaw and feel stunned by what they told me. I knew by the end of class on Friday night that my experience on Sat. would be no ordinary, in-and-out wedding ceremony.

For starters, their courtships are very, very different than ours. Most couples have known each other for years, on average, 10 years! The man does not propose to the woman…merely once! No self-respecting Vietnamese woman would accept her boy friends first proposal, even after years of courting. It is bad form. And remember, this is a country where form and formality are all important as a way of life. A woman has to know how sincere a man is so he must ask again…to prove his sincerity and test his patience. And then he must ask again…and again…and again. The average number of proposals the man makes before any self respecting Vietnamese woman finally, and reluctantly says yes, according to my students, is 10-12. Whew!!! And that is just the marriage proposal!

Next the man must go to the woman’s parents and get their permission. Without parental approval, the marriage is off. The number of couples who get married without parental approval is less than 10%…and we’re not talking about teenagers here, we are talking about couples in their mid and late 20’s. According to the ministry of information, the average age for couples in the city to marry is 26. The average age in the rural villages is 22.

Next comes setting a wedding date, which is normally about 2 years from the time parental approval is granted. Next comes the week…or weeks of the actual marriage. Now this is the tricky part. The jury is out on when the couple actually become man and wife. In America, it is when the judge or minister says, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” That by the way, is the part the class just loved…and wanted me to tell over and over. Maybe the reason my Vietnamese students loved me telling that is because it is so simple, cut and dried and distinct from their culture. Vietnamese boys and girls do not hold hands or kiss in public…and since I’ve never seen them do it in private, maybe they don’t do it at all for all I know. It is culturally taboo to show affection of any kind in public. In fact, none in my class admitted to ever having seen their mothers and fathers ever having kissed, even in private. Somewhere along the way, their parents had to have some form of physical contact folks, as I hate to tell my 25 year old students that I’ve known since 7th grade that storks don’t bring babies anymore.

I’m sorry. I’ve digressed. So, when do they actually become man and wife? According to the government, it is when they take the first legal step…and that is when both man and woman go to the government clerk to sign the marriage certificate…which is usually about 2 weeks before the actual day…or rather, days, of the wedding ceremony. Here is where the class had differing opinions. In the villages it is different than the city. Among the rich it is different than with the poor. From family to family it varies but most students said that the average city wedding ceremony lasted 3 days. The first day, nominal friends and acquaintances are invited to a feast. That is what I partook of on Sat. There you see the bride in her wedding dress and the groom in his finery. You meet the parents and the best friends. You eat. And eat. And eat…and finally scream ENOUGH ALREADY! I’M FULL!!!

The second day only family and relatives and closest friends are invited and that feast takes place at the groom’s home, where the bride and groom will soon live. The third day the groom comes calling for his bride at her parent’s home. This will be her last day under her parent’s roof, unless the groom’s parents are too poor or too crowded for the couple to live there. Then, and only then, would a groom move in with his mother-in-law. Yes, they have THAT tradition also in Vietnam. So, definitely, by the third day, when the groom takes the bride from her parents and literally carries her into his parents home, they are man and wife! Whew! Got all that? It is really complicated! However, as the younger population comes of age, they are opting more and more for one day Western style marriages. 70% of the population here is under 30 so there is a gradual shift from traditional ways to Western ways.

The average newlywed couple in Vietnam rarely have more than 2 children. Families over the last 15 years have become smaller. And, perhaps the most astounding statistic of all is their incredible low divorce rate. Less than 3% of the couples in Vietnam ever get divorced…probably because no man in his right mind would ever want to propose 12 times and go thru a 3 day wedding ceremony again!

Saturday, Nov. 15, 2003...Chi and Huong at Bat Thang and the Incredible Day!An incredible day! What wonderful friends I have in Chi and Huong! What goodfortune! What good blessing! Today was one of those rare and marvelous dayswhere everything went right! In fact, it more than went right, it was fullof serendipity! It all started when I left the house at 7:30 to meet Chi andHuong , 2 of my students, and they took me to Bat Thang, a village 30 kmsoutside of Hanoi where all the shops specialize in making pottery.I had assumed that they each would have motorbikes and I would ride on theback of one of their motorbikes. However, while I was standing waiting forthem on Doi Can,(our street) a xe om (motorbike taxi pronounced, SAY OHM)pulled up to me. I told him I did not need a xe om. A few seconds laterHuong pulled up on her motorbike with Chi on the back. Then I realized thexe om was for me. However, after I thanked the girls for getting the xe omfor me, they said, no, they didn't know who this guy was. What wonderfulgood luck! I needed a xe om and here he was. Furthermore, he not only agreedto take me to Bat Thang but the girls negotiated a very good price, about $3for his all day services.So we 4 were off to Bat Thang. The ride took about 45 minutes and we crossedthe Red River, which is the largest river in Vietnam and reminds me of themighty Mississippi. Down a bumpy, dusty road we went into the heart of ruralVietnam. The village of Bat Thang is precious and mostly devoid of tourists.I only saw 3 white-skinned foreigners. Every shop in the village isdedicated exclusively to pottery.We watched every phase of pottery making: turning vessels on a wheel,pouring slip into moulds, cleaning, priming, painting, firing, glazing andshipping. We even got to paint some pottery and once it is fired and glazedwe'll go back to Bat Thang and pick it up. One pottery shop owner not onlylet us paint our own pottery but he invited us to his table for tea. I havepictures to prove it. While in one pottery shop I bought my grand-daughterMacy a tea set and the girls bought Caden some ceramic cats. After spendingabout 4 hours in various pottery shops we went to another village for anoutdoor lunch of catfish cooked at our table with all the trimmings. Thefood in Vietnam is so delicious and healthy. I continue to lose weight!While over a leisurely lunch we exchanged cultural customs and traditions ofour respective lands. The girls told me that they hoped Vietnam would becomemore like America. I told them that I hoped America would become more likeVietnam! This country is so rich in love, kindness, respect, graciousnessand friendliness. Oh that our great land could become more like this. I'vereceived more smiles in the 2 months I've been here than in 2 years inCalif.In America, we refer to Vietnam as a 3rd world country. What does that meananyway? According to whose standards is this a 3rd world country? And whatis a 2nd world country? And what determines a 1st world country?. Can someoneplease tell me? In my humble opinion, a country should be classified, not byits economy but by the character of its people. I feel that the people inVietnam are 1st world citizens. They are the kind of citizens we should allbe. Thoughtful, sensitive, friendly, and kind. I have come to really lovethis country and these gentle souls.Every teacher craves a close relationship with his students. Here that dreamis a reality. The students here can't do enough for you. When they take meout to lunch or dinner I try to pay but they won't hear of it. On average, Ieat out with some of my students about 4 times a week.

Each year, on November 20th, Vietnam celebrates National Teacher’s Day…rather than tell you what it is, I’ll share the exact words of one of my pre-intermediate students, Thu Nga: here is her account:

...I will tell you about our Teacher's day. It's one of the most important holidays in Vietnam (the National Day, Tet Nguyen Dan, Teacher's day and May Day). In this day, students go to their teacher's house to wish them with best wishes, to give them the most beautiful flowers. Students go to school not to study, but to celebrate the anniversary with many anthems. In their class, they pitch flowers on vase all week. The Speaker of the National Assembly makes a speech to congratulate all the teachers working in Vietnam.In short, students must respect their teachers (old teachers and new teachers). It's one of our human moralities. If a student isn't grateful and respect their teachers, he won't be respect in society.We have a famous saying: You are my teacher a day, you will be my father all life. (translate word by word)...Thu Nga

I plan on taking a little vacation this week to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) I hope to leave on Tues. Nov. 18 and come back Monday Nov. 24th so I won’t be here to celebrate teacher’s day with my students. One of my students, my dearest one, Duong, (if you can have pets,) wants me to meet his family in southern Vietnam so I am traveling with him there.

Sun. Nov. 23, 2003...Ho Chi Minh City... I am writing you from the dank, dark, humid skies of Ho Chi Minh City, some 1,000 miles apart. These 2 cities are an entire world apart. HMC (formerly Saigon) is a much bigger, busier city than Hanoi...almost 3 times the size. HCM is over 8 million with 4 million motorbikes. The traffic is much heavier here than in Hanoi...and here I didn't think that was possible. Hanoi has a small town atmosphere in comparison. I can walk from the center of Hanoi to our school on the NW outskirts in 45 minutes. Here, from the center to the outskirts would take weeks if you didn't get run over by a taxi or motorbike first.There have been many highlights since coming here a week ago. Perhaps none so great as having my picture taken with one of my Vietnamese students, Duong, in front of the USS Vandegrift in port here in HCM. That is USS as in United States Ship! This week marked the first time in 30 years that a US ship docked at port in Vietnam. US sailors were everywhere in this metropolitan, modern city and there were times I had to remind myself I wasn't in San Diego. The implications of this occasion are monumental...especially in light that Washington DC was receiving the Vietnamese Minister of Defense just a few weeks before. It gives real hope to a solid friendship between the US and VN after 30 years of no diplomatic relations. I am not into politics but I am into friendships and this is one I am very anxious to see deepened and extended.Sat. nite a few of us English teachers had dinner in downtown HCM and it was hard to decide on WHICH Western restaurant to choose from. Wanda is from Texas, JP is from Korea, and I come from the restaurant capital of the world, The SF Bay Area. So, we opted for a Medditeranean restaurant that had a varied menu and soft jazz in the background. There's never been a time in my 3 months in Vietnam that I felt an experience was more "unvietnamese." In fact, most of HCM is very unlike Hanoi. This city has a very strong US resemblance...like a first cousin.They do not celebrate Christmas in Vietnam...er, so I thought until I came here. The other day we went in one of the skyscapers here for coffee and on the 6th floor there was a bowling alley with a huge Christmas tree and Christmas carols blaring in English. No, you wouldn't find a Christmas tree in all of Hanoi. I actually am anxious to get back home to Hanoi. I like the small town atmosphere...for a city of 3 million. I am having "inner culture shock..." finding a culture within a culture.There are many ethnic minorities in Vietnam and I think HCM is one of them...but in a very urban way. Hanoi is the Vietnam that I've come to know and love and feel comfortable and familiar with. Had I come here first, I'd likely find this to be my comfort zone. We have no skyscrapers in Hanoi. Here there are many.One day this week Duong and I went up to the 33rd floor to have lunch on top of the Prudential Building, one of the tallest buildings in HCM. Again, a Christmas tree adorned the center but this time it was the Carpenters singing, "Yesterday Once More" from the sound system. Every restaurant you go to there is music playing. One thing most Vietnamese feel uncomfortable with is quietness. I crave quietness. The only "sound of silence" here is coming thru the sound system by Simon and Garfunkel.There is something the Vietnamese dread more than silence. When giving a 10 question quiz, I asked my students, "What are you the most afraid of?" I expected them to say snakes and spiders, as most of my American students did. However, I was stunned to read their answers, "Being alone!" Being alone and lonely is the greatest fear most citizens of the city have. I don't know about the village dwellers...perhaps it is different as I haven't gone into many rural villages yet. That will come next. Tomorrow Duong and I are going to meet his parents at a village 2 hours bus ride from here, Mi Lai.

Chapter 2 Leaving the Comfort Zone

2008-11-17T15:27:00.000-08:00

Chapter 2…Leaving Home

Wedn. Aug. 20, 2003…11 PM… San Francisco International Airport…Cathay Pacific Boarding Area…

Just said goodbye to Roy, Jack, Tim and David. They went with me as far as they could go. I feel very much alone now. I have no idea what awaits me on the other shore….there must be more than 200 people in this boarding area and roughly less than 5% are Caucasian. They all appear to be headed home and I am leaving home. I am surprised that I have no strong feelings at this point. I have no fears and I have no excitement. Why am I void of emotion at this critical point in my life? Next stop: Hong Kong.

Fri. Aug. 22, 2003…noon…Hong Kong Airport…

The flight took 13 hours and for the first time in my life, I crossed the international dateline. An entire day fell out of existence. Talk about time flying! Slept most of the time on the plane. From my vantage point here on the upper concourse, I look down on people from so many different continents and countries crisscrossing this place. When Rudyard Kipling wrote, “East is east and West is west and never the twain shall meet…” obviously had never been in the Hong Kong airport. There are people of every color and dress imaginable here and they all seem so oblivious of each other. There seem to be an equal number of Caucasians as Asians.
(Now on board a Vietnam Airline flight for Hanoi) This French Airbus ??? is not what I had expected, thank goodness. I first pictured a Vietnam Airline plane as being a rusted out, bullet-hole ridden C-47 from the war era. Not only is this airliner modern, the flight attendants are decked out in traditional Vietnamese dresses and speak pretty good English, although I couldn’t make out a word the pilot said in broken English after we got airborne. Next stop: Hanoi.

Mon. Aug. 25, 2003… 3:15 AM…in my bedroom on Pho Doi Can, Hanoi…

Finally, the horns have stopped. But just woke up at 3 AM, as I have been doing since I arrived. Have not written in my journal for a few days. Roger (24) from Australia and Rex (72) from New Zealand came to the airport to pick me up. I’d never met either before and it was a horrendous ride back to Hanoi (42 kms.) from Noi Bai Airport. I was ready to hop back on a plane to the US after the taxi ride…here in the city it is mostly motorbikes and bike traffic…constant honking…nerve wracking…dogs barking…roosters crowing. No one could have described the noise and traffic…and Roger informed me today that I’ll start teaching Tuesday. Nothing like going right into the furnace from the fire. Everything here moving 160 mph. This is all like a bad dream. Heat and humidity excruciating but I have AC in my room and our house is a palace. I even have my own bathroom with hot water…so much for the grass hut with the dirt floor! Roger and Rex each have their own room and another American teacher is coming next month to the school. Have been to the school once to meet the staff. Both secretaries are VN with good English, Minh and Thuy. Have not yet met the director, John, who hired me.

Tues. Aug. 26, 2003…first time to teach…

Crossing the street here is like walking a tightrope. You just slowly walk out into the street and traffic goes around you. This is going to take practice. The smells, sights and sounds make me wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Today I went out by myself for the first time. The alley we live down looks like something out of a spooky movie. I fear the first time I walk home alone in the dark I’m gonna get mugged. Roger assures me this is the safest place on earth. He taught in Cambodia before he came here. Rex taught for 35 years in India before he came here and he says in India they had to lock and bar “their camp.” Rex uses a lot of words and phrases, either from New Zealand or India that I don’t understand. Sometimes I wonder if he is actually speaking English. Roger seems easier to understand but has a real Aussie accent. Can’t tell if it is still jet lag or culture shock that makes me feel like this place is so insane…
…taught my first class tonight. All the names are difficult to pronounce; Phuong, Hien, Hanh, Tuan, Huong, Thuy, (actually 3 Thuys)…8 girls and 3 boys in this intermediate conversational English class. Roger taught most of the class tonight because he can see I am still shell-shocked. The kids are between 18 and 25. Most have already graduated from college. They need English for their jobs. Many international companies have come to VN in the last few years and they only hire people who can speak English. Met John today…he is Canadian thank goodness! He speaks perfectly good English eh? Rodney’s cousin left Hanoi to teach in Saigon before I arrived so I’m the new kid on the block…very NEW!

Wedn. Aug. 27, 2003…depressed…

Feel like I’m free-falling down a mine shaft. Today was terrible. I wanted to impress Roger with my courage so I walked a few blocks to our local open air market and bought some tomatoes, onions and carrots. Have no idea what things cost here. $1 US is equal to 16,000 VN Dong here and Roger tells me I got ripped off because I got charged 45,000 VND for the veggies I bought and he said they should have, all together, been less than 16,000. So much for shopping. At least the little loaves of French bread that Rex buys for 1,000 VND from the vendors is something I can eat. So far Rex has done all the cooking. Have no appetite and would eat nothing if I didn’t have Rex and Roger to guide me as to what if safe. I’ve been gone from the USA a week and it feels like the passing of the ice age. Things now moving about 170 mph. Crossing Pho Doi Can today, a motorbike grazed me and tore part of my pant leg off. No skin damage…noise here never stops until the wee hours of the morning. Then before 5 sellers hawk their goods up and down the lanes waking the dogs and roosters. When do these people ever sleep? If this is just the first week, how am I gonna survive another 6 months of this?

Fri. Aug. 29, 2003…heat unbearable…

Have never experienced such heat and humidity. In the morning, when I come out of my AC bedroom, stepping out into the hall is like stepping into a sauna. By the time I walk down to the kitchen I am drenched in sweat. I can’t seem to get enough water in me. We buy bottled water from vendors who bring it in 25 liter bottles to the house…I’ve never drank this much water before. Just can’t seem to get enough…thirst is constant…taught the class again last night and we don’t have a written curriculum. Each teacher just makes up their own lesson plans and curriculum for each class and you just teach by the seat of your pants. In a way I like this because it leaves a lot of room for creativity. Tomorrow, Rex and I are going to travel by train to Sapa, up on the border of China because it is a holiday weekend…I think it is like the VN version of our 4th of July…Independence Day from France. France ruled VN for a hundred years until 1954 when VN defeated the French at the battle of Dien Bien Phu.

Sun. Aug. 30, 2003…Sapa…

Rex and I boarded a train Friday night, along with Minh and some of the students. Didn’t think the taxi was ever going to get to the train station because of the sea of motorbikes…holiday weekend. No different from the USA on get-away day except motorbikes clog the roads instead of cars…we traveled by sleeper Friday night…beds are just a sheet of plywood…not much sleep and awoke at dawn to gawk outside at banana trees and rice fields…peasants plowing with homemade hoes and water buffalo just as their ancestors did thousands of years before…arrive at the rail terminus, Lao Cai, in a monsoon and with Minh from the school and some of the students, we piled in a van at the train station and trekked up a washed out dirt road that should have been impassable. No driver in his right mind would have made this trip and if I’m ever going to get ulcers, this should be the start. VN girls got car sick. They just barf out the window. My nerves were pretty shot. Sapa is up in the mountains. Mt. Fan Si Pan, the highest point in VN at about 9,000 feet is a day’s hike from Sapa. When we piled out of the van at the village of Sapa, throngs of Hmong met us and wanted us to take their pictures…only to beg for money afterwards. Cold and rain and fog. Finally wasn’t sweating…last night the inn keeper where we stayed came in and looked under our bed. Minh says he was looking for women we might have brought in with us! She said foreigners often bring women in illegally! Wow! They even legislate morality in this country! They asked for our passports to keep overnight when we checked in and I wasn’t about to surrender mine but Minh says its the law. You get it back when you check out and PAY…this morning when Rex and I awoke the sun was shining and what a gorgeous view of terraced rice fields in uncountable shades of green. Fog clung to the high peaks around the village and Rex and I had strong black coffee, fried eggs and French bread with butter and jam for breakfast. This was the first day since I came that I felt everything is going to be OK. It was cool in the morning so Rex and I went for a hike down to a waterfall and back up the mountain to the village. Rex is in remarkable shape for a man of 72 and if I had not been taking morning walks before I came to VN, I would never have been able to keep up with him. Or even survived this long. Tonight we’ll take the train back to Hanoi, about a 13 hour ride.

Wed. Sept 2, 2003…2 weeks…

Today makes 2 weeks since I left the US. Only 5 months and 2 weeks left until my 6 months are up. So glad for email. Without it, I’d be so homesick…or more homesick than I already am. Everything moving about 140 mph now. I still blink to see if this is a dream or if I really am in Vietnam. I’d love to have a pizza, hamburger, or anything red white and blue right now. Mostly we eat rice and veggies. Blistering hot today. In 2 weeks we are to get another teacher from the US, a young man named Brandon and he will occupy the 4th bedroom here in our home.

Mon. Sept. 22, 2003......A FULL HOUSE!

Finally, we have a full house. It was one month today I came to Hanoi and we’ve had an empty bedroom for that period of time but now our 4th mate has arrived. I feel very fortunate to have 3 excellent “flat mates” as my English textbook says at school.

Brandon arrived on Thurs. Sept. 18 from America, so now I have someone I can understand who speaks perfectly good English. Brandon, 24, is from Ontario, Ore. He taught high school for a year in Idaho before coming here to teach at our school. Rex (New Zealand) and Roger (Australia) will learn proper English pronunciation now and they will realize that the words like “sport” are REALLY not pronounced “spot” but “spoRt” It is amazing how British, New Zealanders, and Aussies mistakenly think we Americans have an accent!

Our 4 story house is full now. The ground floor is where the kitchen, living room, dining room and one of the 4 “loos” (British for bathroom) are. Then the second floor is where Brandon’s bedroom and Rex’s bedroom are. They share a “loo.” Then the third floor is Roger’s bedroom with an attached bathroom and then there is my domain, a spacious bedroom with it’s own bathroom. On the roof we have our washing machine…strange place I know…but there are stranger things than that here. All 4 bedrooms have their own separate air conditioning system.

Yesterday morning, on the way to class, I noticed a little less humidity in the air and just a tad cooler temperature. There is just the slightest hint of fall in the air. The ever present and ominous “THEY”, meaning most people I talk to, tell me that it gets very cold and damp here in the winter time. Since all I’ve experienced so far is heat and humidity, alternating with days on end of monsoon rains that can drown a duck, I will be anxious for cooler days. The houses here are without heat so I’ll have to purchase an electric heater for my bedroom once the winter arrives.

Hanoi is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. There are lakes everywhere. When I ask most of my students, “Where is the most beautiful spot (no “r” in spot this time)in Vietnam?” They often reply, “Hanoi!” The citizens love their capitol city and for good reason. This is the Washington D.C. of Vietnam and all the government buildings are here. Also, Ho Chi Minh, considered by almost everyone here to be the “Father of Vietnam,” has his mausoleum in the heart of the city where you can view his body resting behind glass. I have not been to see “Uncle Ho” (Bac Ho as the VN say) yet.

On Saturday, an American friend, Ted, took me on his motorbike on a tour of Hanoi and we covered most of the main attractions of the city. We spent about an hour in the sacred palace of literature where all the famed intellects and scholars came to study since about 1100. It has been restored to its former glory and color and it is really more esteemed by the citizens of Hanoi than Ho’s resting place. It was a sunny day, so perfect for viewing this venerable old city. Most Americans would find Hanoi extremely beautiful and exceptionally fascinating.

Things have finally slowed down to the place that everything is making sense and I now see a sane flow in the traffic whereas all I saw at first was chaos. It is amazing how the human mind sorts out sensory stimuli and in time, makes order out of chaos. There are unspoken rules in operation that the uninitiated do not see at first. After a month in Hanoi, I’ve been initiated.

Thurs. Sept. 25, 2003…Brandon…

Brandon is a quiet lad. I liked him from the get-go. He stays in his room in the morning and does email. He also brought a guitar and sings well. Although Rex and Roger are wonderful roomies, there is something strangely comforting about having “your own nationality.” It is also noteworthy that the VN don’t despise Americans. This has been such a pleasant shock to discover this. 70% of the 81 million people in VN are 35 or younger. No vivid memories of what they call the “American War.” This has been a real PLUS!

Because we teach at night, I’m free during the daytime so John lined me up with a daytime job as English editor for the Vietnam Social Science Review. I correct translations that go into the English edition of the monthly government publication. My dad would turn over in his grave he knew I was getting paid by the communist government. Like the school, they pay me in cash. Minh, our school finance treasurer was puzzled when I said I needed a checking account to pay my bills. She said everything is done cash only. My first pay was last week and I made 2.3 MILLION VND!!! I’m a millionaire! Now I know why all the Vietnamese have heavy metal safes in their homes. No one has a checking account here and most credit cards are not accepted. Cash and carry.

Sat. Sept. 27, 2003...My Day at the University…

Superlatives and adjectives are inadequate to describe my day yesterday at Hanoi University of Technology, the largest university in this country. At the invitation of one of the English professors, I spent most of Friday touring the campus and talking to Vietnamese students who are learning English there. It was an exhilarating and exciting day!

The day started with professor Hanh (pronounced HI-n) picking me up here at our house at 9 AM and taking me on the back of her motorbike to her university where she has worked teaching English for the past 15 years. As we navigated thru morning rush hour traffic (that is a story in itself) she gave me a little background about the university. She had to get special permission from her superiors to take me on campus as Westerners are not allowed access otherwise. Permission was granted.

When we first arrived, I was struck by how quiet and serene the campus was. Everywhere you go in Hanoi noise abounds. Here there was an atmosphere of tranquility and reflection. 4 of her students met us as we arrived. Two were first year English students and two were 4th year students. Although all 4 were eager to explain to me things about themselves and their university, the more polished skills of the seniors won out over the neophytes. School had just started the fall semester on Monday.

One of the first buildings we toured was the library. It was the QUIETEST library I’ve ever been in! I didn’t know such a place like this could exist in Hanoi since horn honking seems to be a prerequisite to getting a Vietnamese birth certificate. My eyes widened in dismay as the students showed me the antiquated card catalogue with handwritten cards detailing every book in the huge library. With pride, they then showed me the 2 computers that held all the same information, with a row of students lined up to get on the 2 computers. Perhaps because I expressed total dismay at having seen the outdated card catalogue system, a supervisors insisted we meet the director of the library. I was astounded to learn that there are only 200-300 books in English but thousands of books in Russian here. During and after the war, most educated Vietnamese learned Russian as their second language as their were close ties between the two.

Even professor Hanh was a little intimidated to be ushered into the directors office and seated. The white-haired, venerable gentleman explained to Hanh in Vietnamese that a new, modern, state-of-the-art library was being built on campus and he invited me to be his special guest at the grand opening in October…of 2004! I told him if I am still here then, I would.

We then walked around the huge campus and saw the new library under construction. The way buildings are erected here, one brick at a time, is a story in itself…best left for another day. As we walked about the campus I noticed how students would just stop in their tracks and gawk at this portly, graying American, the whole day. Hanh explained that because no Westerners came on campus, they probably thought I was a dignitary. This was rather amusing to me. Nowhere else in Hanoi, will a Westerner get notice because they are so common. And Westerners act as if they don’t notice other Westerners either.

The 4 students and Hanh and I had tea in the faculty lounge. There on the wall was a picture of “Bac Ho”, Uncle Ho Chi Minh. Not only does his body lie in state at the mausoleum in Hanoi, but his presence is everywhere here, as well as his face on each monetary bill and he securely rests in the hearts of all the citizenry here as the “Father of Vietnam.” In that peaceful moment, with just the six of us sipping tea, I mentioned to them there was a man in America I regarded as highly as they do Uncle Ho. His name is Abraham Lincoln. After reading several biographies about Lincoln, including Sandbergs, I feel an esteem for Lincoln much the same as the people here feel for Bac Ho.

After tea and a tour of some more of the sparse and stark campus, we had lunch at the student canteen. It was a Vietnamese buffet, the first I’ve seen here. The food was passable, but not my favorite cuisine. Since the 2 freshman had class, they did not join us for lunch, just the 2 seniors, Thuy (pronounced Twee) and Duong (pronounced Zoom) as well and Hanh and I. What the food lacked, the conversation more than made up for. They delighted in chatting in English and loved it when I would correct their pronunciation. They thrive on learning English. This is a country where English is viewed as the means to escape poverty.

Vietnam is one of the poorest countries in the world. This past week, in reading UN literature about Vietnam, I learned that the poverty rate in Vietnam 5 years ago was 70%. Poverty, as defined by the UN for this country, is less than $1 per day per household. Now the poverty rate is 35%. A mass influx of foreign business investments has infused new life into this once depleted economy and most of these businesses have come from America, Canada, Australia, and England…so the largest common denominator to getting a better job here is to speak English.

Hanh had arranged for me to meet all of her advanced English students, and to make the class more enjoyable for them, and for me, she assigned the class to meet us in Lenin Park at 2 PM. Unlike most of my English classes here at CLASP, the students were on time but the teachers were late. As we entered the beautiful park, me riding on the back of the professors motorbike, Hanh pointed out a group of students, standing waiting, on the far end of the gorgeous lake from the entrance gate. I felt nervous about meeting her best students. I felt I would be under a magnifying glass.

After a crisp walk to where the students stood watching us gallop toward them, Hanh made a general introduction and we then took seats at a large table inside an open air café by the lake. There were about 20 students, about 18 girls and 2 boys. I’ve noticed this demographic to hold true in most of my classes here at the school as well. It is primarily girls who study English, not boys. I really don’t know why that is, other than the fact many of my male students have to work late or work at 2 jobs in order to support their families.

What followed was the most incredible interviews I’ve witnessed, little less been a part of. Hanh had told the students they could ask any question they wanted of me, no matter how personal, so long as it was all conducted in English. The students mostly wanted to know all about America, what was it like, what kind of food did I eat there…what did I think of Vietnam, where did I live, what did I like, (everything except the traffic) what did I not like, (the traffic) and on and on. After about an hour and a half, I asked the students to each tell me something about themselves and why they were learning English…always it was to get a better job.

The class, which started a little after 2, went on and on. Surprised that there was no set time to stop, we visited until after 6 PM! I felt such incredible sense of warmth for these kids, not one of which was over 21 and most even looked younger. Since I had to be going…I’d been gone from home and school all day…I had to get back. We made plans to meet again next Friday at Lenin Park for round #2 of what we decided to call the class: “The English Club.”
This will go down in my journal as my most incredible day in Vietnam yet. Next week I hope to take some of the other NES teachers with me, (Native English Speakers) as I’d like to share this “little gold mine” with John, Rex, and the others. Eventually I’d like to see some of these kids come study at our school!

Sun. Oct. 5...Homesick…

I’ve been here for 6 weeks now and today, for the first time, I think I’ve finally come to that place that we commonly call “homesickness.” It seems that there has been an advent of collapses in my world that triggers that unwanted thought, “What am I doing here in Vietnam?” Sometimes nothing works here…and sometimes that happens all at the same time. I bought a cell phone today and it does not work. My internet connection does not work anymore so I’ve not sent or received any email in the last 2 days… I crave someone to speak English with at the moment but there is no one here at home except me and my computer. I am hungry for pizza, hamburgers or anything else I don’t have to use chop sticks to eat with…something firm and juicy I can hold in my hand and put in my mouth…something that tastes red, white and blue and familiar.

One American who lives in Ho Chi Minh City told me before I came over here that the 2 things that would help fight homesickness were pictures and email. Well, I’ll just have to get my pictures out and look at them again. And I’ll have to get a new email card. Here in Vietnam there is only one ISP…and you have to buy cards, like phone cards, to use for internet service and I think my service ran out. How good it will be to get reconnected to friends and home.

The first time I ever experienced homesickness was when I was 5 years old. I went to spend the weekend with my grandpa and grandma Weir, who lived all of 2 miles from our home in Denver. After the first night, I asked grandpa to take me home. I told him, “Grandpa, I want to go home…I forgot what mama looks like!”

The second time was when I was a Boy Scout in France, and our troop traveled to Germany for a 2 week Summer Camp. I got blue and lonely and missed home again…just like when I was 5. I thought I must just be immature…only little kids get homesick. Well time would prove that even 57-year-olds can experience a longing for the familiar.

Then, after joining the Air Force in 1968, I left my native Denver for San Antonio and 6 weeks of basic training. Our first week we were not allowed to get any mail or make any phone calls… this was in the age of no cell phones. So when the time came that the men in our squadron were allowed to call home from the one pay phone outside, there was always a waiting line 10 or 15 men deep. I decided to get up at 3 AM to call home and what a shock. There was a line of men in their shorts and tee shirts waiting at the phone booth at 3 AM! There was little consolation in knowing I was not the only lonely airman!

Now Hanoi in Oct. of 2003. After 6 weeks of fast paced, busy days, it has finally hit me…I am not home…I am on a lonely planet somewhere in another galaxy, in another time and place. But, I lived on the roller-coaster of LIFE long enough to know that this too shall pass. However, just as letters from home helped in Basic Training in the Air Force, so too will time…

Sat. Oct. 11, 2003…Yesterday Once More…

Something happened that melted my heart yesterday. For the past 3 Fridays I've been meeting with Professor Hanh's advanced English class from Hanoi Univ. of Technology. I am really coming to love these kids. And yesterday was the clincher.I played an old song that I rediscovered here at the school, "Yesterday Once More" by the Carpenters. I use to love that song years ago so when I heard it this week it helped so much. Music has such healing power. I thought I'd introduce it to the university students so I took a cassette tape player and the tape with the song on it and played it for them and passed out a copy of the words for them to sing along. Much to my surprise, almost all of them knew the song by heart. They love English songs! It brought tears to my eyes. but they are warm tears, not cold tears.This song, "Yesterday Once More" is about rediscovering a familiar old song that brought back happy memories. That was exactly what happened and it was so heart warming to hear my new friends sing it by heart and with gusto. I recorded it on my little tape recorder. I will cherish that tape. As well as this song they sang me many traditional Vietnamese folk songs. I recorded them too. I played this tape last nite and it broadened the borders of my heart and knit my heart with these precious gentle souls. I am glad once more I am here. I feel I am where I belong. It is a good feeling and my heart is more united.

Tues. Oct. 14, 2003…Van’s Confession

An incredible thing happened tonight after the intermediate conversation class…Van, the oldest student in the class at 44 asked if she could talk to me. After everyone left, she said she had a problem she wanted to discuss with me. Van said she’d been married for 20 years and that she had discovered that her husband, a high-ranking police officer was having an affair with a young college student. My immediate response; “Divorce him!” She told me divorce wasn’t customary in VN and that it wasn’t an option to her. When I asked why, she gave me 3 reasons; (1) Her relatives would never approve, (2) It would leave her two children without a father, (3) and it is impossible for a divorced woman to survive or remarry! Wow! What a terrible situation! Here I thought VN was such a moral country. Van said many men in high positions often do the same thing her husband was doing. If this is true, it would explain why so many more women are taking English classes than men. When I go by the bia hois (beer halls) at night, there are only men in there, no women. That would also explain why men don’t spend their extra money on English lessons. I was blown away by her experience and asked why she wanted to share this with me. She said she needed to talk to someone and that I might have some suggestions for her. She asked how a woman in the US would handle such a situation. “Divorce!” I told her…not mentioning that our divorce rate is over 50%.

Walking home after class, I was so preoccupied and mortified by Van’s plight that I walked right past our lane. I intend to do some research on the divorce rate in VN.

Thurs. Oct. 16, 2003…An Answer…

While correcting one of the VNSSR (Vietnam Social Science Review) articles about marriage in VN, the article at hand said the average age for marriage in rural areas was 18.5 years of age. Astoundingly, in the cities, it was 27.8. The reason given for the wide spread was because young people in the city, especially women, want to pursue a career before marriage. It said that the divorce rate in VN, according to state records was 3%. I asked Mr. Cuc, the editor, if this were true and, although he works for the state, he said, “No, it is actually 5-6%!” I laughed and he looked puzzled. I told him the divorce rate in our country was now over 50%. Mr. Cuc, who has traveled extensively in the US told me he knew that and when I asked why the divorce rate was so low in VN, he listed the same 3 reasons that Van had told me about the other night. I find this unbelievable. None of my students come from broken homes. When I was teaching summer school at Waterford, I only had two kids in the entire class that DIDN’T come from a broken home. The family is the cell of any society and a society is only as strong as the family units. The woman is the backbone of the society in VN.

Tonight, for our topic, I chose: “Why is the divorce rate so low in VN?” The conclusion of all members, including the men, was the same 3 reasons Van had given me. Although, students did say that as VN becomes more Westernized, the divorce rate will increase.

About 90% of what I learn about VN comes from my students. The other 10% is a combination of the VNSSR and my random observations. My heart still bleeds for Van. She wasn’t present tonight.

Sun. Oct. 19, 2003…a day of crisis

Week 8 has been a living hell. This past weekend Roger and Brandon left for a little R&R on Cat Ba Island and Rex left this afternoon with some of the older ones. Workmen are putting a new water main down our lane and the jack-hammer has been unceasing. I’ve not been able to get my email to work for a week and the phone, because of the construction, is not working.

The isolation and noise has become more than I can bear. If God meant for me to be here, why is there this constant sense of loss and loneliness? Why is life so difficult here? I got cheated today at the market and I didn’t care anymore. Some of the vendors have no conscience.

This morning I was so despondent that I got on my knees and begged God for some sign, some form of encouragement just to last out 4 more months. Just as I was thinking about returning to the USA tomorrow, Rex knocked on my door and had a letter for me. It was from Huong, the monitor of the Friday afternoon Hanoi Univ. of Tech. English Club. It began, (and I read it aloud to Rex while still on my knees,) “Dear Mr. David, On behalf or our class, we are writing to thank you for your time with us and to encourage you to stay in Vietnam for the rest of your life…” and before I could read further, with tears, I told Rex this was exactly what I had been praying for. The rest of the letter melted me…these words, written by this precious tender soul, were the exact words I needed to hear at that moment. The letter was written 3 days before and delivered, much to Rex and my shock, by the postal service.

Knowing you are, exactly in the place you are meant to be, no matter how difficult or foreign is a tremendous comfort.

Tues. Oct. 21, 2003…Roller Coaster of Emotions.
Emotions swing like crazy here. I go from elation to depression is one day. Like Brandon said, we are always just a little on edge…and are constantly reminded this is not our homeland. I am still counting the days until my 6 months have ended and I can go home. I never ate very often at McDonalds but there are none of those here in VN, so perhaps, the first thing I eat when I return to the USA is a Big Mac!

Fri. Oct. 24, 2003…Beauty and Morality…

Vietnamese women wear long white gloves that cover their arms when they ride their motorbikes. It is to keep from getting sun tanned!!! Here in Hanoi the very thought of a tanning salon would be repulsive to the women here because they long for white skin…light skin like Westerners! So opposite in the USA. The women also cover most of their skin and don’t look provocative or suggestive like the Thai or Hong Kong women. The women here are very moral and I’ve never had one of my female students flirt with me. I am not saying it would be flattering but 30 years ago, when I was in my 20’s, it would have been deflating if none of the women flirted a little. I am glad that the women of VN help my purpose to be true. Youth has battles that are easily lost. It is hard to defeat an enemy who has battalions imbedded in your hormones.

On billboards, when lingerie is advertised, they always use a Westerner, not an oriental to pose in skimpy garments.

Another thing I like…guns are not allowed here. Not even the police have guns. The only time you see a gun is when you go by one of the many embassies here and see the guards holding a weapon.

Fri.. Oct.31... “We won’t eat Max!”

Last year, when I was substitute teaching at St. Timothy’s school in San Jose I met some adorable 4th and 5th grade kids. I wanted to keep in touch with them, and their teachers, one of which is Alison Dahl who teaches 4th grade there. I asked Alison if her kids would like to have some Vietnamese pen pals. We have a class of “Teeny Boppers” between 10 and 14 and in the first round of letters the kids introduced themselves to each other. The Vietnamese students wrote about their favorite food, one of which is dogs. This shocked the 4th graders from St. Timothy’s and I was amused by their second round of letters…some of which I now share here…this is such a rich cultural exchange between these kids…enjoy! Bon Appetite!

Here are their second set of letters. Uncorrected..Hi. My name is Samantha. I like to sing and dance. I was wondering why you like to eat dogs. We are studying Language. Hi! My name is Josh. I like to play soccer. I am 10 years old. My hobbies are building, reading, and playing on the computer, and watching tv. My faorite foods are chocolate, shrimp, porkchops and burritos. At school I learn math, Language arts, Religion, Science, Social Studies. Do you eat dog? Does it taste good? From, Josh Hi my name is Hannah. I am 9 years old. My favorite hobby is football, soccer, hockey, and baseball. At school we are studying math, language arts, spelling, social studies and reading. My favorite foods are chocolate, and ice cream. What parts of a dog do you eat? Here we don't eat dogs. HI! my name is Susanna. I am 9 1/2 years old. I like to play soccer, dance, and sing and play piano. We are studying Language Arts, Science, Math, Social studies, and reading. My favorite foods are pizza, pasta, and peeps. (they are marshmallows covered in sugar) I have a brother and a mom and a dad. I have a pet hamster. Why do you eat dogs? Is it really good? I asked that because I 've never had it before. From, Susanna Hi! My name is Jessica. I am 9 years old. My hobbies are soccer, softball, and piano. In Language arts we are studying nouns. In math we're doing subtraction. My favorite food is chicken nuggets. Why do you eat dogs? Are they good? Love, Jessica I'm David. I am nine years old. I like to collect coins. My favorite foods are spaghetti, pizza and and bean and rice burritos. I'm studying nouns in Language. I have a dog, cat, hamster, and cactus. These are not foods. Do you like cactuses? What are you studying in school? Do you have any pets? What kinds of games do you like to play? Hi. My name is Nicholas. I like motor cycle riding. I am 9 years old. In school we are studying nouns. My favorite food is pizza? What is your favorite food? Hello. I am nine years old. I like football, hockey, and baseball. We are studying subtraction in math. My favorite food is Burger King. From Jason Hi I'm Sarah. I'm 9 years old. In Math we are studying subtraction. My favorite foods are strawberies. watermelon, or any fruis or vegetables. What is your favorite sport? I have blond hair and blue eyes. My skin is very light. I have lots of freckles and I am 4 feet 4 1/2 inches tall. Hi my name is Nicole. I am 9 years old. I am a girl. My hobbies are softball and soccer. I am studying a lot of subjects. My favorite food is calamari. What is your favorite food? My name is Matthew. My age is 9. I like to play football and soccer. I learn math and reading. Why do you eat dogs? What is your favorite sport and game? Hi my name is Jordan. I am 9 years old. I am 4 feet 7. My favorite hobby is football. My favorite food is mashed potatoes. My other favorite food is ice cream. I am studying for a math test. We are also learnign spelling. Hi. I'm Kaitlin. I am 9 years old. My hobbies are playing at parks, and running. At school we are studying math, language, and social studies. My favorite food is mashe potatoes. Do you have any pets? Do you have any favorite people? I like Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds. Well, talk to you later. Kaitlin Hello. My name is Molly. I am 9 years old. I like to collect elephants. We are studying language. We are workin on nouns in Language. I love to eat choclate, and chicken and Macaroni and cheese. That is noodles with cheese on it! Hello. My name is Andy. I am 9 years old. I love football, baseball and hockey. We are studying math and language. My favorite food is pizza. I am 4 feet 7. I have a hamster and we might get a dog. I have a good family and house. My friends are Matthew, Jason, Peter, Jordan, and David. Hello. My name is Ashley. I'm 9 years old and my birthday is July 12. I'm a girl. My hobies are reading, golfing, and swimming. We are studying Math, Language, Science, Social Studies and Reading. My favofite foods are steak, chocolate, and strawberries. Do you like to read or draw? I have 5 people in my family. I have a dad, mom, sister and grandma. My grandma is away on a trip to visit a friend. Does your grandma live with you? My grandma lives with us.

Hi. My name is Leanna. I am 9 years old. My hobbies are horseback riding, dance class and piano. I have a brother and a mom and dad. In studying science in class. My faovrite food is BBQ ribs. I also love Mac and cheese. Why do you eat dogs? I have a puppy names Max. I don't think you would want to eat him. He is cute and cuddly. You should try cow and pig. Love your pen pal, Leanna

Chapter 1...The Invitation

2008-11-14T18:23:00.001-08:00

Chapter 1…The Invitation to set sail...

“Welcome! Welcome to Vietnam!” the email began.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” I said aloud to the little mailstation.
I’d sent an inquiry about a job opening to an English center in Hanoi but I didn’t expect a reply, little less and a job offer. Now I was caught completely off guard.

Immediately I thought about writing back that my inquiry was just a joke…I really didn’t want to teach in Vietnam and wondered what even possessed me to send the inquiry in the first place. I had to find a polite way to turn down the job offer. This was a serious job offer and I had been applying for teaching jobs for over a year. The weight of this whole situation started to grow by the minute.

Leaving the desk, I went and lay down on my bed with my hands under my head and stared at the ceiling. I considered the facts. I had been out of a job for over a year and had teaching applications in at least 8 different school districts. I had worked as a substitute teacher and taught summer school and had also survived by other sporadic part-time employment. In the past 18 months, my applications had only resulted in 4 interviews, at various school districts in northern California. No one wanted to take a chance on a 57-year-old teacher. None of the doors I’d knocked on opened except one…this one. And I hadn’t knocked very hard on this one. I had knocked softly and timidly. Was this an omen?

Realizing I had only read the first sentence of the email, I went back and read it completely several times. No mention of salary was given. I reminded myself that I still had options and choices…that I need not take the first job that came along. But what options did I have? I had two; take it or leave it! That’s like telling a starving man, when a meager plate of food is in front of him, that there are two items on the menu; take it or leave it.

I believe in God. I believe in prayer but I’ve never prayed for material things, like money, a job, or financial prosperity. I have prayed for faith, patience and spiritual and emotional longsuffering and endurance. I believe in a God who has a plan for each person but also gives each individual the intelligence and wisdom to make choices. And this was a time to make a choice.

Sitting at my desk, I pushed the little mailstation aside and listed two columns on a yellow legal pad. I titled the column on the left “Reasons to stay in the USA,” and on the right, “Reasons to go to Vietnam.”

After an hour or so, there were 15-20 reasons to stay in the USA and two reasons to go to Vietnam. As I scanned reasons to stay in the USA they centered on comfort and security. The two reasons to go were: (1) It may be the Will of God, and (2) adventure.

In Vietnam, I pictured myself living in a grass hut with a dirt floor with no running water. That certainly would be an adventure…but then I am not even slightly adventurous. My idea of adventure is taking a ride in the country and choosing a road I’ve never driven on before. And even then, when I drive on that unfamiliar road and I come to a fork in it, I always take the widest and most traveled alternative, the one most likely to get me back to the main highway. I stick to the familiar and shun the unfamiliar. I’m a creature of comfort and habit. I crossed out the word “adventure,” on the right side of the pad, leaving only one reason to go to Vietnam. Now the knee work would begin.

There comes a point in our life when all the intelligence and reason we posses are not enough. Microbiologists, looking thru the most powerful microscopes realize there are yet smaller particles to discern. Astronomers, looking thru the most powerful telescopes conclude there is still more out there in outer space to discover. Faith in God is the highest intelligence man will ever have…the greater the faith, the higher the intelligence.

Basically, my prayer centered on being willing for whatever God wanted. Although I felt very uncomfortable about going to Vietnam, I prayed to be willing for it if it was God’s will. My conscience, that still small voice within me, often comforts me when I am distressed and distresses me when I am comfortable. Although out of work, I had gotten too comfortable. And now came a very discomforting choice. A comfort zone, by its very nature, implies doing things out of habit and forming routines that eliminate choices. It is rarely easy to make a choice to leave one’s comfort zone.

An acquaintance of mine, a man named Rodney, had told me when he had learned that I was searching for a teaching job about his cousin who was teaching English in Vietnam. Rodney said that the school where his cousin worked needed teachers. He must have told me this at a moment I was desperate because I asked him for his cousin’s email address and had sent an inquiry to her weeks before and hadn’t heard a thing from her. It turns out she passed my email on to the director of the school, and it was the director who sent this welcoming invitation to me weeks after I had sent the initial inquiry.

Sitting down at the mailstation after a few hours’ reflection and prayer, I replied to the director’s offer. I emphasized that I was FIFTY-SEVEN! I emphasized that I would need COMFORTABLE LODGING. I also needed to know what the salary would be. I told him I would “consider” his offer after I had heard back from him.

The next day the director wrote back and said that I would make “about $400 a month,” BUT lodging would be provided and I could easily live on $400 a month in Vietnam. It was out of the question. I could make $400 in 2 days teaching in the US. I wrote a rough draft declining the offer and decided to sleep on it before sending it.

Only God knows what happens at night when we close our eyes in sleep. Perhaps dreams have a way of rearranging realities and priorities. When I awoke the next morning, my conscience wouldn’t allow me to reject the offer but my rational mind wouldn’t let me accept the offer. For the next week, there was a 3-way battle between my conscience, my rational mind and the sluggard within me who opted for comfort, routine, and ease.

The director wrote, after he hadn’t gotten my reply, that he needed to know right away so that he could hire someone else if I didn’t want the job. Now my back was to the wall. I prayed for guidance, even a sign one way or another but nothing happened except my conscience troubled me whenever I thought about flatly turning down the job. If I took the job, I might have peace but I might also have poverty. Then it hit me; I have poverty now! The only difference would be I’d have a job and have poverty too!

When Robert Frost took the road less traveled, it made all the difference. I was at a fork in the road and this time I chose the one that only time would tell made any difference. Reason said I would be sorry but my conscience said I would have peace if I chose to accept the job in Hanoi. Peace of mind is a sure compass for our soul. I accepted.

A week after I received the offer, I wrote a letter to the director, saying I would go. Once we make a choice in a difficult matter, there is an avalanche of evidence to the contrary…as well as a mountain of tasks to perform. I had to get a passport. I had to obtain a visa from the VN government. I had to purchase my own airline ticket. I had to get a physical.

Looking back over my journal for that period I marvel at the whole episode. One day I was writing about my financial fears and woes. The next day, I had read a portion of scripture where Jesus preached about God feeding the sparrows and meeting natural needs. For every fear there was a reassurance.

Once I had obtained my visa and passport, purchased my ticket and converted my meager savings into cash, I knew there was no backing out. The date for my departure was Aug. 20, 2003. It was a Wednesday night and I had said goodbye to my friends and what little family I had left.

My one and only sibling, my brother Danny, was taking care of our 87 year old mother in her home in Denver. My oldest son lived in Colorado Springs and my other son and his family lived close by me in Santa Clara, Calif. Both sons, as well as my mom, were not in favor of my move half way across the world but this was something I did, not to please others but for peace of mind.