Sunday, September 27, 2009
I feel good.
Today I felt something I don't believe I've ever felt in my life.
I felt really, genuinely proud of myself.
It hit me after my second day of working at Aston's, the new job. I worked five hours in the morning on Saturday and four hours today, teaching children anywhere from 5 to 13 years old. I continue teaching in the evenings during the week. The class schedule is mind-boggling: teachers are shifted from age group to age group by the hour and by the half hour. Sometimes one class has two or three different teachers; usually when you arrive at a class they've already had a teacher before you, possibly two, and you have to assess what the students have already learned to even know where to begin with the lesson. It's an awful system, and I'm glad I don't have to stick with it for too long. But it's really not all bad. I'm paid $15 an hour. I have a Vietnamese teaching assistant in each classroom to assist me (they are all young and female, so this is even more of a bonus than it sounds). The kids are great. And today, after my final class, my assistant turned me and said, "The kids really like you."
"How do you know?" I said.
"They said it in Vietnamese, as they were leaving."
This made me feel great, yes. But it wasn't until I was walking home that it really, truly hit me. I am eighteen years old. I am eighteen years old and living independently in a foreign country. I am eighteen years old, living independently in a foreign country, and teaching English here, successfully. When I first left for Vietnam, I had some serious doubts about whether I could really survive such a huge transition. Well, I've survived it, and more. I've adapted to a new culture, quickly and without too many bumps along the way. I've found a job in this new culture, on my own, and so far, I seem to be doing my job well. It's not an easy job either; I'm teaching a new language to young, energetic children. And I'm eighteen years old. I'm doing this without a degree, without any sort of teacher's training, and with little experience.
Yes, I am proud of myself. It's even deeper than that, though. For the first time in my life, I feel like other people have reason to be envious of me. I'm truly privileged to be where I am right now. How many people can say they've taught English in a foreign country at 18?
This all must sound insufferable. I apologize. I can't keep it in. I'm really happy with my life right now, and I need to share. To me, this feels like the culmination of all the maturation I've done in my life, especially in the last few years. No, culmination is the wrong word. It implies an ending. This is not an ending, but a new momentum that is just now getting underway. For the first time in my life, I feel like I am moving toward the future.
I've decided that this is what I want to do. It's pretty much official. Teaching English overseas is what I want to do with my life, at least for a few years after college. I figure if I'm happy teaching at a not particularly good school, it's probably a good indication that I like the work. And I do. I enjoy teaching, and I enjoy traveling. I enjoy the challenge of adapting to a new culture. I like trying new foods and meeting new people. Of course, I'm not a naturally extroverted person, so I can only take so much at once; I think I hit my limit a couple weeks ago, after a straight month of almost constant interaction with new people, and had to hide in my room for a while. But I even enjoy that: trying to find the right balance. And I'm surprised at how long I went without needing time alone; this is about the farthest I've ever stretched the boundaries of my personality. The move was conveniently timed, though; apart from the initial move-in weekend, my life in District 10 has been much slower-paced. This has been a relief; I'm not sure how much more District 1 life I could have taken. Now I'm able to spend a few hours alone every day, which is nice.
I was going to write a long entry about how teaching English to preschoolers breaks the language down and builds it up again brick by brick, allowing the teacher to reexamine the language and it's intricate, frequently nonsensical construction through fresh eyes, but you probably don't want to hear about that.
I felt really, genuinely proud of myself.
It hit me after my second day of working at Aston's, the new job. I worked five hours in the morning on Saturday and four hours today, teaching children anywhere from 5 to 13 years old. I continue teaching in the evenings during the week. The class schedule is mind-boggling: teachers are shifted from age group to age group by the hour and by the half hour. Sometimes one class has two or three different teachers; usually when you arrive at a class they've already had a teacher before you, possibly two, and you have to assess what the students have already learned to even know where to begin with the lesson. It's an awful system, and I'm glad I don't have to stick with it for too long. But it's really not all bad. I'm paid $15 an hour. I have a Vietnamese teaching assistant in each classroom to assist me (they are all young and female, so this is even more of a bonus than it sounds). The kids are great. And today, after my final class, my assistant turned me and said, "The kids really like you."
"How do you know?" I said.
"They said it in Vietnamese, as they were leaving."
This made me feel great, yes. But it wasn't until I was walking home that it really, truly hit me. I am eighteen years old. I am eighteen years old and living independently in a foreign country. I am eighteen years old, living independently in a foreign country, and teaching English here, successfully. When I first left for Vietnam, I had some serious doubts about whether I could really survive such a huge transition. Well, I've survived it, and more. I've adapted to a new culture, quickly and without too many bumps along the way. I've found a job in this new culture, on my own, and so far, I seem to be doing my job well. It's not an easy job either; I'm teaching a new language to young, energetic children. And I'm eighteen years old. I'm doing this without a degree, without any sort of teacher's training, and with little experience.
Yes, I am proud of myself. It's even deeper than that, though. For the first time in my life, I feel like other people have reason to be envious of me. I'm truly privileged to be where I am right now. How many people can say they've taught English in a foreign country at 18?
This all must sound insufferable. I apologize. I can't keep it in. I'm really happy with my life right now, and I need to share. To me, this feels like the culmination of all the maturation I've done in my life, especially in the last few years. No, culmination is the wrong word. It implies an ending. This is not an ending, but a new momentum that is just now getting underway. For the first time in my life, I feel like I am moving toward the future.
I've decided that this is what I want to do. It's pretty much official. Teaching English overseas is what I want to do with my life, at least for a few years after college. I figure if I'm happy teaching at a not particularly good school, it's probably a good indication that I like the work. And I do. I enjoy teaching, and I enjoy traveling. I enjoy the challenge of adapting to a new culture. I like trying new foods and meeting new people. Of course, I'm not a naturally extroverted person, so I can only take so much at once; I think I hit my limit a couple weeks ago, after a straight month of almost constant interaction with new people, and had to hide in my room for a while. But I even enjoy that: trying to find the right balance. And I'm surprised at how long I went without needing time alone; this is about the farthest I've ever stretched the boundaries of my personality. The move was conveniently timed, though; apart from the initial move-in weekend, my life in District 10 has been much slower-paced. This has been a relief; I'm not sure how much more District 1 life I could have taken. Now I'm able to spend a few hours alone every day, which is nice.
I was going to write a long entry about how teaching English to preschoolers breaks the language down and builds it up again brick by brick, allowing the teacher to reexamine the language and it's intricate, frequently nonsensical construction through fresh eyes, but you probably don't want to hear about that.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Big Move (and the numerous and varied experiences that followed it)
Okay, I am officially moved in. I was officially moved in about five days ago, actually, but was unable to tell anyone about it due to problems with the new hotel's wireless internet (something to do with security settings). I managed to fix it somehow today. I'm not entirely sure what I did, and the internet connection is still a bit spotty, but it exists now, and that's what matters, right?
Internet troubles aside, the move went very smoothly. Not much effort was involved. I put together my three bags, flagged a taxi, and hopped in. The trip to District 10 was about 80,000 dong ($4.50), although it probably would've been a bit cheaper if I'd left at a better time; I left around rush hour without thinking, and we encountered some pretty heavy traffic along the way. Upon arrival, the cab driver helped me with my bags. Conveniently the new room is only up one flight of steps; this is an improvement over my old room, which was up about five (although I will get less exercise now). Unpacking was pretty easy. I set up my laptop on the desk, dumped most of my stuff in the desk drawers, and hung up clothes in the closet.
The new location has a few downsides. The hotel is not quite as nice as the old one; it has the same basic amenities and the room is roughly the same size, but the furniture is of noticeably lower quality, and certain things that were provided in the old hotel are not provided in this one. Like towels. This posed a problem that I will discuss later on. There is no laundry service here either, but I actually prefer being able to do laundry myself; the only problem is that in Vietnam they hang everything to dry, which would be great in a dry country, but is not really very convenient in a country with daily monsoon rains. Another problem is noise. Before I came to Vietnam I read a lot about how noise was a big problem for foreigners, often keeping them awake at night. I was initially puzzled by this, since I never had a problem with noise at all in my old hotel. It was a bit noisier than rural Minnesota, sure, but it certainly didn't keep me awake. I now realize I was extremely lucky. Since most hotels are in alleys, I think it basically comes down to the character of your alley: either you have a quiet alley, or a noisy one. The old hotel was in a quiet alley. The new hotel is not.
The noise starts around 6 AM, with trucks and motorbikes thundering past. The invention of the muffler does not seem to have spread to this part of the city yet. Dogs bark from morning to night (once I was sorely tempted to go out onto the balcony and shout, "Just shoot them and put them in a soup already!"). There is an unimaginably squeaky gate that, for some reason, must be opened and closed about eight times every morning, and then a few more times at night for good measure. A squeaky gate might not sound that bad, but you have not heard this gate. It produces the most excruciating sound you can possibly imagine.
But believe me, the move has not been all bad. Far from it. It was definitely a good idea, and a lot of good things have come of it. I'll begin a series of interesting dining experiences. I realized the other day that I haven't said too much about dining here overall, and since I had quite a few good meals recently, I figure now is a good time to talk about Vietnamese food.
The first thing I did after moving in was go out with a friend for dinner. She lives in District 10 and picked me up at the hotel. We went to a very "local" place. And by "local," I mean our meal was interrupted by a stray cat with a missing eye and half a tail leaping up onto our table. The food was great. Soup was served with these huge crispy rice cake things. The idea is that you crack off bits of the rice cake and put them in the soup. The meal also came with a plate of leaves (very common), which could be added to the soup for flavor, or rolled up in rice paper with these little . . . uh, things. I'm not sure exactly what they were, but they were good. You take a piece of rice paper, put one of these yellow cylinder-shaped things in, toss in some leaves, roll it all up, and dip it in a red sauce. It looked like ketchup, but was not ketchup. Very good, though.
After dinner we went to a coffee shop and bought what the menu advertised in English as "fruit ice," which turned out to be more or less accurate. It was a bunch of fruit pieces with crushed ice in a cup. And it was delicious. I'm not sure I could name all of the different fruits, and there were a lot of different kinds, but they were all good. There was banana, apple, watermelon, papaya, avocado, something that looked and tasted like cranberry that my friend assured me was not cranberry, mango, and a lot of other things. Thankfully no durian. Durian, as a lot of people here will tell you, is an acquired taste. All in all, it was a great night out.
The next morning was Saturday, my first full day in the new location. Of course, I immediately began the search for cheap food. I was afraid I would have to walk quite a bit to find the sort of quality and variety of cheap food that was easily available in District 1, but this was not the case at all. All I really had to do was walk out of the alley, and I was immediately bombarded. My first discovery was a woman who sells fried sesame rolls, which are believe it or not bread rolls fried in sesame oil, for 500 dong apiece. This is roughly 3 cents. I bought two, enjoyed them immensely, and having been going back to her stand every day since.
The next big discovery was a stand that sells an enormous bowl of hu thieu with a loaf of bread for 12,000 dong (75 cents). Loaves of bread here are like the kind you might see used in communion at church; they're about 10 inches long, rounded, and not cut into slices. You eat them by tearing off chunks. In this case of this stand, the chunks are then dipped into the hu thieu, which is one of the many Vietnamese varieties of rice noodle soup. As with any bowl of Vietnamese soup, you first toss in a few slices of hot pepper, a bunch of bean sprouts, a few mint leaves, and squeeze in a couple slices of lime (which everyone here calls "lemon" although there don't appear to be any actual lemons, as in the yellow kind, in the country). Then you test the broth with the spoon (held in the left hand) for temperature and flavor. If it's suitable to eat, you grab the noodles with chopsticks (held in the right hand), and hold the spoon underneath to catch any broth that might drip down onto your pants. Then you eat.
Hu thieu is apparently a breakfast food. At least, the stand is open mornings only. So hu thieu and banh mi (bread) is now a part of my morning routine. Another part of my my morning routine is coffee.
This may come as a shock to some of you, who know of my deep-seated prejudice against the beverage. It comes as a shock to me. In the past I have been quite vocal about my dislike of coffee. I have always considered it awful-tasting stuff inferior to tea in every way, and even went as far as to go my entire Freshman year of college without drinking a cup. But Vietnamese coffee has changed my mind on the issue. I drank my first cup because I felt it would be rude not to; I was with some friends at a coffee shop, and they bought a cup for me. I hesitantly drank it and was pleasantly surprised: it was good. Since then I have drank a lot of Vietnamese coffee. It's all good. I'm not sure why I like it so much more than American coffee, but I have a few theories. First of all, it's grown right outside the city, so it's very fresh. Second of all, they make it with a "slow drip" process that concentrates the flavor. Finally, they mix it with sweetened condensed milk, and serve it on ice (no one drinks anything hot here, and why would they want to?). Also it could be that tea is so common here, whereas in the States it always seemed like the underdog beverage. It's difficult to find water here that has not been infused to some degree with tea leaves; it's the only thing people really drink. This also means a lot of the time it's very watered down. So there might be something to the different coffee-tea dynamic here. Anyway, I found a place that serves a cup of coffee and a pot of tea for 6000 dong (35 cents). I mean, you get the coffee and the tea both. For 6000 total. It's pretty nice.
Anyway, for dinner on Saturday I went to I guess what you might call a house party with this girl I met and her friends, and her sister and her sister's husband (I think). We grilled shrimp, mussels, chicken, and pork on a miniature grill out back. Grilling the shrimp was a little disconcerting (they were still moving around on the grill), but it was a lot of fun. We had bread and salad with it (salad is eaten rather inconveniently by picking one item at a time with chopsticks), and watermelon for desert. My friend's older sister's husband (I think) was pretty good at English, so we talked a lot. It was a really nice evening.
On Sunday, I went with pretty much my only male friend to visit his university. Most college students over here, I've found, really want to show me their universities. I'm not sure why exactly. Anyway, I figured it was a good opportunity to experience the life of a Vietnamese college student, so I went with him. It was certainly an interesting experience. About 100,000 students attended the college (I gathered this by asking around), and they were all cramped in a space probably about 1/8th the size of the Morris campus, if that. The boys' dormitory resembled a military barracks; the rooms were lined with bunkbeds, and apparently each was supposed to contain 24 students. Most of the students stared at me, which took a little getting used to, but I talked to a few of them, and they were all very friendly. Very very friendly. I'm glad that in Vietnamese society it is acceptable for straight males to put their arms around each other while singing Backstreet Boys songs. If that's not a sign of social progress, what is?
I had lunch at the university. It was basically like college food, only Vietnamese. You got a bowl of rice and could choose some different things to put on it. I'm not quite certain what all of the different things were. There was fish in there somewhere, I think, and some things that resembled vegetables.
Immediately after the college venture, I went to English Club. English Club now meets on Saturday and Sunday evenings, so I have a bit more flexibility in when I choose to go. This week we actually had two visitors from Japan, tourists just staying for the week, so I spent most of the time talking to them. They taught me some Japanese, most of which I have forgotten already. They were impressed with my pronunciation, though. I don't see why Vietnamese pronunciation has to be so ridiculously difficult.
After English Club I went out with friends to another "local" establishment. We had a very interesting dish that I'm going to have some difficulty describing. It was basically like a fried egg with noodles fried in it. With papaya on top. It was difficult to eat but was good. I'm also starting to really like papaya.
Monday was back to school. On weekdays, I typically eat lunch at the same place. It's right across the street from the school, and most AIS teachers eat there. You get a plate of rice and a choice of three toppings (various meats and vegetables and things I'm too afraid to try), and a bowl of soup for 20,000 dong (about 1 dollar).
After school I planned a walk to the nearest department store. It turns out the nearest department store is about more than a mile away. Not that I mind walking. I was going to the department store to buy a towel. You may remember, near the beginning of this giant thing I said something about how the new hotel does not provide towels. Well, over the weekend I realized that I would need to buy a towel at some point, or I would be unable to shower. Or, well, I would be able to shower, but I would have to air dry, or find something lying around the room with which to dry, and I didn't really want to head down either of those paths, so purchasing a towel was clearly a necessity. Thus the trip to the department store. Getting there was simple enough. Finding a towel considerably less so. The department store had three floors, and so I went from one to the next, scouring each thoroughly. Alas, no towels. Finally, just as I was about to give up, I found some towels in the corner of the kids' section. Bright baby towels. I hovered around the towel rack for a while. I passed them, trying to look as though searching for something else. Finally I grabbed one and looked for a price tag. Unfortunately a woman working nearby saw me, and out of the goodness of her heart decided to assist me in the purchasing of my bright pink baby towel. She showed me the price tag, led me to the checkout counter, put the towel in a bag for me, and handed me the bag. A garish Mickey Mouse bag. I thanked her and quickly fled.
The way back home could have been better, I suppose. There was a huge traffic jam, and naturally, when the street is jammed, traffic will spill over onto the sidewalks. The problem is I was walking in the opposite direction of traffic. So I spent the majority of my walk home trying to navigate a maze of oncoming traffic . . . on the sidewalk. With my Mickey Mouse bag in hand.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Somewhere during the weekend I went around passing out resumes at local language schools. Anyway, on Tuesday I got a call back, did an interview, and now I have a job.
And now I'm too tired to write any more.
Internet troubles aside, the move went very smoothly. Not much effort was involved. I put together my three bags, flagged a taxi, and hopped in. The trip to District 10 was about 80,000 dong ($4.50), although it probably would've been a bit cheaper if I'd left at a better time; I left around rush hour without thinking, and we encountered some pretty heavy traffic along the way. Upon arrival, the cab driver helped me with my bags. Conveniently the new room is only up one flight of steps; this is an improvement over my old room, which was up about five (although I will get less exercise now). Unpacking was pretty easy. I set up my laptop on the desk, dumped most of my stuff in the desk drawers, and hung up clothes in the closet.
The new location has a few downsides. The hotel is not quite as nice as the old one; it has the same basic amenities and the room is roughly the same size, but the furniture is of noticeably lower quality, and certain things that were provided in the old hotel are not provided in this one. Like towels. This posed a problem that I will discuss later on. There is no laundry service here either, but I actually prefer being able to do laundry myself; the only problem is that in Vietnam they hang everything to dry, which would be great in a dry country, but is not really very convenient in a country with daily monsoon rains. Another problem is noise. Before I came to Vietnam I read a lot about how noise was a big problem for foreigners, often keeping them awake at night. I was initially puzzled by this, since I never had a problem with noise at all in my old hotel. It was a bit noisier than rural Minnesota, sure, but it certainly didn't keep me awake. I now realize I was extremely lucky. Since most hotels are in alleys, I think it basically comes down to the character of your alley: either you have a quiet alley, or a noisy one. The old hotel was in a quiet alley. The new hotel is not.
The noise starts around 6 AM, with trucks and motorbikes thundering past. The invention of the muffler does not seem to have spread to this part of the city yet. Dogs bark from morning to night (once I was sorely tempted to go out onto the balcony and shout, "Just shoot them and put them in a soup already!"). There is an unimaginably squeaky gate that, for some reason, must be opened and closed about eight times every morning, and then a few more times at night for good measure. A squeaky gate might not sound that bad, but you have not heard this gate. It produces the most excruciating sound you can possibly imagine.
But believe me, the move has not been all bad. Far from it. It was definitely a good idea, and a lot of good things have come of it. I'll begin a series of interesting dining experiences. I realized the other day that I haven't said too much about dining here overall, and since I had quite a few good meals recently, I figure now is a good time to talk about Vietnamese food.
The first thing I did after moving in was go out with a friend for dinner. She lives in District 10 and picked me up at the hotel. We went to a very "local" place. And by "local," I mean our meal was interrupted by a stray cat with a missing eye and half a tail leaping up onto our table. The food was great. Soup was served with these huge crispy rice cake things. The idea is that you crack off bits of the rice cake and put them in the soup. The meal also came with a plate of leaves (very common), which could be added to the soup for flavor, or rolled up in rice paper with these little . . . uh, things. I'm not sure exactly what they were, but they were good. You take a piece of rice paper, put one of these yellow cylinder-shaped things in, toss in some leaves, roll it all up, and dip it in a red sauce. It looked like ketchup, but was not ketchup. Very good, though.
After dinner we went to a coffee shop and bought what the menu advertised in English as "fruit ice," which turned out to be more or less accurate. It was a bunch of fruit pieces with crushed ice in a cup. And it was delicious. I'm not sure I could name all of the different fruits, and there were a lot of different kinds, but they were all good. There was banana, apple, watermelon, papaya, avocado, something that looked and tasted like cranberry that my friend assured me was not cranberry, mango, and a lot of other things. Thankfully no durian. Durian, as a lot of people here will tell you, is an acquired taste. All in all, it was a great night out.
The next morning was Saturday, my first full day in the new location. Of course, I immediately began the search for cheap food. I was afraid I would have to walk quite a bit to find the sort of quality and variety of cheap food that was easily available in District 1, but this was not the case at all. All I really had to do was walk out of the alley, and I was immediately bombarded. My first discovery was a woman who sells fried sesame rolls, which are believe it or not bread rolls fried in sesame oil, for 500 dong apiece. This is roughly 3 cents. I bought two, enjoyed them immensely, and having been going back to her stand every day since.
The next big discovery was a stand that sells an enormous bowl of hu thieu with a loaf of bread for 12,000 dong (75 cents). Loaves of bread here are like the kind you might see used in communion at church; they're about 10 inches long, rounded, and not cut into slices. You eat them by tearing off chunks. In this case of this stand, the chunks are then dipped into the hu thieu, which is one of the many Vietnamese varieties of rice noodle soup. As with any bowl of Vietnamese soup, you first toss in a few slices of hot pepper, a bunch of bean sprouts, a few mint leaves, and squeeze in a couple slices of lime (which everyone here calls "lemon" although there don't appear to be any actual lemons, as in the yellow kind, in the country). Then you test the broth with the spoon (held in the left hand) for temperature and flavor. If it's suitable to eat, you grab the noodles with chopsticks (held in the right hand), and hold the spoon underneath to catch any broth that might drip down onto your pants. Then you eat.
Hu thieu is apparently a breakfast food. At least, the stand is open mornings only. So hu thieu and banh mi (bread) is now a part of my morning routine. Another part of my my morning routine is coffee.
This may come as a shock to some of you, who know of my deep-seated prejudice against the beverage. It comes as a shock to me. In the past I have been quite vocal about my dislike of coffee. I have always considered it awful-tasting stuff inferior to tea in every way, and even went as far as to go my entire Freshman year of college without drinking a cup. But Vietnamese coffee has changed my mind on the issue. I drank my first cup because I felt it would be rude not to; I was with some friends at a coffee shop, and they bought a cup for me. I hesitantly drank it and was pleasantly surprised: it was good. Since then I have drank a lot of Vietnamese coffee. It's all good. I'm not sure why I like it so much more than American coffee, but I have a few theories. First of all, it's grown right outside the city, so it's very fresh. Second of all, they make it with a "slow drip" process that concentrates the flavor. Finally, they mix it with sweetened condensed milk, and serve it on ice (no one drinks anything hot here, and why would they want to?). Also it could be that tea is so common here, whereas in the States it always seemed like the underdog beverage. It's difficult to find water here that has not been infused to some degree with tea leaves; it's the only thing people really drink. This also means a lot of the time it's very watered down. So there might be something to the different coffee-tea dynamic here. Anyway, I found a place that serves a cup of coffee and a pot of tea for 6000 dong (35 cents). I mean, you get the coffee and the tea both. For 6000 total. It's pretty nice.
Anyway, for dinner on Saturday I went to I guess what you might call a house party with this girl I met and her friends, and her sister and her sister's husband (I think). We grilled shrimp, mussels, chicken, and pork on a miniature grill out back. Grilling the shrimp was a little disconcerting (they were still moving around on the grill), but it was a lot of fun. We had bread and salad with it (salad is eaten rather inconveniently by picking one item at a time with chopsticks), and watermelon for desert. My friend's older sister's husband (I think) was pretty good at English, so we talked a lot. It was a really nice evening.
On Sunday, I went with pretty much my only male friend to visit his university. Most college students over here, I've found, really want to show me their universities. I'm not sure why exactly. Anyway, I figured it was a good opportunity to experience the life of a Vietnamese college student, so I went with him. It was certainly an interesting experience. About 100,000 students attended the college (I gathered this by asking around), and they were all cramped in a space probably about 1/8th the size of the Morris campus, if that. The boys' dormitory resembled a military barracks; the rooms were lined with bunkbeds, and apparently each was supposed to contain 24 students. Most of the students stared at me, which took a little getting used to, but I talked to a few of them, and they were all very friendly. Very very friendly. I'm glad that in Vietnamese society it is acceptable for straight males to put their arms around each other while singing Backstreet Boys songs. If that's not a sign of social progress, what is?
I had lunch at the university. It was basically like college food, only Vietnamese. You got a bowl of rice and could choose some different things to put on it. I'm not quite certain what all of the different things were. There was fish in there somewhere, I think, and some things that resembled vegetables.
Immediately after the college venture, I went to English Club. English Club now meets on Saturday and Sunday evenings, so I have a bit more flexibility in when I choose to go. This week we actually had two visitors from Japan, tourists just staying for the week, so I spent most of the time talking to them. They taught me some Japanese, most of which I have forgotten already. They were impressed with my pronunciation, though. I don't see why Vietnamese pronunciation has to be so ridiculously difficult.
After English Club I went out with friends to another "local" establishment. We had a very interesting dish that I'm going to have some difficulty describing. It was basically like a fried egg with noodles fried in it. With papaya on top. It was difficult to eat but was good. I'm also starting to really like papaya.
Monday was back to school. On weekdays, I typically eat lunch at the same place. It's right across the street from the school, and most AIS teachers eat there. You get a plate of rice and a choice of three toppings (various meats and vegetables and things I'm too afraid to try), and a bowl of soup for 20,000 dong (about 1 dollar).
After school I planned a walk to the nearest department store. It turns out the nearest department store is about more than a mile away. Not that I mind walking. I was going to the department store to buy a towel. You may remember, near the beginning of this giant thing I said something about how the new hotel does not provide towels. Well, over the weekend I realized that I would need to buy a towel at some point, or I would be unable to shower. Or, well, I would be able to shower, but I would have to air dry, or find something lying around the room with which to dry, and I didn't really want to head down either of those paths, so purchasing a towel was clearly a necessity. Thus the trip to the department store. Getting there was simple enough. Finding a towel considerably less so. The department store had three floors, and so I went from one to the next, scouring each thoroughly. Alas, no towels. Finally, just as I was about to give up, I found some towels in the corner of the kids' section. Bright baby towels. I hovered around the towel rack for a while. I passed them, trying to look as though searching for something else. Finally I grabbed one and looked for a price tag. Unfortunately a woman working nearby saw me, and out of the goodness of her heart decided to assist me in the purchasing of my bright pink baby towel. She showed me the price tag, led me to the checkout counter, put the towel in a bag for me, and handed me the bag. A garish Mickey Mouse bag. I thanked her and quickly fled.
The way back home could have been better, I suppose. There was a huge traffic jam, and naturally, when the street is jammed, traffic will spill over onto the sidewalks. The problem is I was walking in the opposite direction of traffic. So I spent the majority of my walk home trying to navigate a maze of oncoming traffic . . . on the sidewalk. With my Mickey Mouse bag in hand.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Somewhere during the weekend I went around passing out resumes at local language schools. Anyway, on Tuesday I got a call back, did an interview, and now I have a job.
And now I'm too tired to write any more.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Decisions, decisions . . . (or, actually, only one decision, but it's big enough to deserve two plurals)
So my life could have gone down basically two different paths:
Path 1: Stay in District 1 but move to a slightly cheaper hotel (a hotel owned by the English Club people actually), start a private English tutoring business in the lobby of the hotel (the idea was proposed by the English Club people), and travel to AIS each day by bus.
Path 2: Move to a similarly priced hotel within walking distance of AIS, look for a job at the 10 or more English schools in the immediate area (it’s sort of a language school hub), and walk everywhere.
I decided a few days ago to go down Path 2. The decision has its pros and cons, but I think the pros outweigh the cons, or at least Path 2 has more pros and fewer cons than Path 1. Both options are better than “stay where I am and run out of money.”
The price of the living space wasn’t much of a factor in my decision. The two hotel options were roughly the same price—about $30 cheaper than what I’m paying now, either way I’m only saving about $100 in the long run. Much more important was the location of the living space.
Living in District 1 is nice, because there is tons of easily available cheap food, tons of easily available more expensive food, and I know lots of people who live in the area. I know the area itself, too; I’ve walked all around and basically know how to get everywhere. There are, however, a few problems with living in District 1, and most of them have to do with transportation. Getting to AIS by bus is cheap, but it takes about an hour, which is a hassle. Finding a job is also difficult, because while there are many language schools in District 1, they are all on the edges of the district, which means none are within walking distance; the closest school is probably more than a mile away, and believe it or not, I don’t particularly feel like walking a mile in tropical weather through nightmarish traffic two times every day. Especially if I’m only going to be working a few hours. Which leaves the bus option, but frankly I’m not a huge fan of getting places by bus. It’s extremely cheap and there are slower methods of travel in the city, but trying to figure out how to get anywhere is more or less impossible. I have a “bus map,” which from its name you might infer is a map of the city’s bus routes, but alas—it appears to be some sort of modern art piece. There are lots of colorful lines everywhere, and looking at it makes my head hurt. When I told the people who run the English Club about my job hunting difficulties, they suggested that I use the hotel lobby to house private tutoring sessions. They told me I could advertise through pamphlets handed out to local students at the end of the school day. I considered this idea pretty seriously, but eventually decided it was a bit too much for me at this point. I would essentially be teaching and running a business at the same time, and frankly, I’m not sure I can even teach. I certainly can’t run a business. I told them it was something I would consider in the future, but that in my current financial state I wanted to find something less risky.
Living in District 10 has a different set of benefits and problems, but in the long run I think it’s the wisest choice. The hotel where I will be living is, as I said, just a short walk from AIS—probably no more than five minutes—which eliminates the need for bus travel. The hotel is also in the middle of a language school area of concentration; there are usually a couple schools on each block. This environment is much more conducive to actually finding a job. I can set aside a day to travel from school to school until I find one that will hire me, without having to set aside an additional day to decipher the bus routes and map a long expedition from one to the next. I’m pretty confident that I can find something.
The downsides are that I don’t know the area, and I don’t know anyone who lives there—aside from AIS teachers of course, who are in general a pretty great bunch. But they aren’t local, and I was really enjoying getting to know the local people. I can still go to English Club every week, but I’ll have to take a bus. I’ll have to search for cheap food, for an ATM that works with my card, for new friends.
Anyway, I made my decision on September 14th. I asked a Vietnamese friend of mine that very day to ask the hotel staff (of the hotel where I am currently living) what date I had paid up to, so I could know when to move out. He asked, and they responded that I had paid up to the 25th of December. This seemed a little fishy to me, since I’d arrived on the 14th and only paid a month, but I figured if they wanted to give me ten extra days, who was I to deny them? Still, just to make sure, I inquired again today. It turns out the lady had read the wrong piece of paper, and that in fact I had only paid to the 14th—when I’d first asked. Thanks for that, hotel people.
So now I need to move out quite a bit earlier than I’d planned. Tomorrow, actually. I discussed this with the owners of both hotels and they seem fine with it. So tonight it'll be lots of packing.
Hmm. Anything else?
Weather's been very nice lately, up until today. Today reminded me that Vietnam is hot. I'd nearly forgotten. It's been raining a lot (more than usual during rainy season), which cooled things off for a while; we had 70 degree weather for about a week, and occasionally it might have even dipped into the 60s. I can't tell, of course, because everything's in Celsius. The locals didn't seem to mind the cooler weather. In fact, I think they enjoyed it even more than me. This makes perfect sense—when you live in a place that's hot all the time, you like a little cool weather now and then—but for some reason I found it surprising. In the classroom, the kids always want the air conditioning on full blast, so I guess I have no reason to be surprised.
I had one memorable rainy season adventure: trying to walk down a flooded street. In nice shoes I didn't want to ruin. Now, when I say flooded, I mean there was about a foot of water covering the entire thing. It was a river. Fortunately, all of the sidewalks are raised about a foot above the street, so there was walking space. Unfortunately, this space was not easily traversed. Remember what I said about sidewalks a few weeks ago? They aren't for walking. But it wasn't until trying to walk all the way down a sidewalk that I learned their true purpose: they are sadistic obstacle courses designed specifically to make a mockery of silly foreigners who wear shoes that aren't suitable for walking through a foot of water.
Yeah, it was bad.
Path 1: Stay in District 1 but move to a slightly cheaper hotel (a hotel owned by the English Club people actually), start a private English tutoring business in the lobby of the hotel (the idea was proposed by the English Club people), and travel to AIS each day by bus.
Path 2: Move to a similarly priced hotel within walking distance of AIS, look for a job at the 10 or more English schools in the immediate area (it’s sort of a language school hub), and walk everywhere.
I decided a few days ago to go down Path 2. The decision has its pros and cons, but I think the pros outweigh the cons, or at least Path 2 has more pros and fewer cons than Path 1. Both options are better than “stay where I am and run out of money.”
The price of the living space wasn’t much of a factor in my decision. The two hotel options were roughly the same price—about $30 cheaper than what I’m paying now, either way I’m only saving about $100 in the long run. Much more important was the location of the living space.
Living in District 1 is nice, because there is tons of easily available cheap food, tons of easily available more expensive food, and I know lots of people who live in the area. I know the area itself, too; I’ve walked all around and basically know how to get everywhere. There are, however, a few problems with living in District 1, and most of them have to do with transportation. Getting to AIS by bus is cheap, but it takes about an hour, which is a hassle. Finding a job is also difficult, because while there are many language schools in District 1, they are all on the edges of the district, which means none are within walking distance; the closest school is probably more than a mile away, and believe it or not, I don’t particularly feel like walking a mile in tropical weather through nightmarish traffic two times every day. Especially if I’m only going to be working a few hours. Which leaves the bus option, but frankly I’m not a huge fan of getting places by bus. It’s extremely cheap and there are slower methods of travel in the city, but trying to figure out how to get anywhere is more or less impossible. I have a “bus map,” which from its name you might infer is a map of the city’s bus routes, but alas—it appears to be some sort of modern art piece. There are lots of colorful lines everywhere, and looking at it makes my head hurt. When I told the people who run the English Club about my job hunting difficulties, they suggested that I use the hotel lobby to house private tutoring sessions. They told me I could advertise through pamphlets handed out to local students at the end of the school day. I considered this idea pretty seriously, but eventually decided it was a bit too much for me at this point. I would essentially be teaching and running a business at the same time, and frankly, I’m not sure I can even teach. I certainly can’t run a business. I told them it was something I would consider in the future, but that in my current financial state I wanted to find something less risky.
Living in District 10 has a different set of benefits and problems, but in the long run I think it’s the wisest choice. The hotel where I will be living is, as I said, just a short walk from AIS—probably no more than five minutes—which eliminates the need for bus travel. The hotel is also in the middle of a language school area of concentration; there are usually a couple schools on each block. This environment is much more conducive to actually finding a job. I can set aside a day to travel from school to school until I find one that will hire me, without having to set aside an additional day to decipher the bus routes and map a long expedition from one to the next. I’m pretty confident that I can find something.
The downsides are that I don’t know the area, and I don’t know anyone who lives there—aside from AIS teachers of course, who are in general a pretty great bunch. But they aren’t local, and I was really enjoying getting to know the local people. I can still go to English Club every week, but I’ll have to take a bus. I’ll have to search for cheap food, for an ATM that works with my card, for new friends.
Anyway, I made my decision on September 14th. I asked a Vietnamese friend of mine that very day to ask the hotel staff (of the hotel where I am currently living) what date I had paid up to, so I could know when to move out. He asked, and they responded that I had paid up to the 25th of December. This seemed a little fishy to me, since I’d arrived on the 14th and only paid a month, but I figured if they wanted to give me ten extra days, who was I to deny them? Still, just to make sure, I inquired again today. It turns out the lady had read the wrong piece of paper, and that in fact I had only paid to the 14th—when I’d first asked. Thanks for that, hotel people.
So now I need to move out quite a bit earlier than I’d planned. Tomorrow, actually. I discussed this with the owners of both hotels and they seem fine with it. So tonight it'll be lots of packing.
Hmm. Anything else?
Weather's been very nice lately, up until today. Today reminded me that Vietnam is hot. I'd nearly forgotten. It's been raining a lot (more than usual during rainy season), which cooled things off for a while; we had 70 degree weather for about a week, and occasionally it might have even dipped into the 60s. I can't tell, of course, because everything's in Celsius. The locals didn't seem to mind the cooler weather. In fact, I think they enjoyed it even more than me. This makes perfect sense—when you live in a place that's hot all the time, you like a little cool weather now and then—but for some reason I found it surprising. In the classroom, the kids always want the air conditioning on full blast, so I guess I have no reason to be surprised.
I had one memorable rainy season adventure: trying to walk down a flooded street. In nice shoes I didn't want to ruin. Now, when I say flooded, I mean there was about a foot of water covering the entire thing. It was a river. Fortunately, all of the sidewalks are raised about a foot above the street, so there was walking space. Unfortunately, this space was not easily traversed. Remember what I said about sidewalks a few weeks ago? They aren't for walking. But it wasn't until trying to walk all the way down a sidewalk that I learned their true purpose: they are sadistic obstacle courses designed specifically to make a mockery of silly foreigners who wear shoes that aren't suitable for walking through a foot of water.
Yeah, it was bad.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Fun with finances!
Many of you have probably noticed that my recent blog entries are coming farther and farther apart. I apologize, but it's a trend I'm having difficulty preventing. For whatever reason, I'm just not compelled to write the way I was my first few weeks here. I have a hard time thinking of things to write about. Even simple weekly updates are difficult; I find myself asking, "Did anything happen this week worth putting in the blog?"
It's certainly not that life here has ceased to be exciting. I still see things, usually on a daily basis, that I've never seen before. But I don't feel the same excitement I did when I first arrived. I have fallen, for better or worse, into a routine. Walking down the street is no longer a relevatory experience; it's simply another part of my life. When I ride a motorbike down the street, I don't feel the same wonder I did the first time. I've grown used to living here.
Routine isn't a bad thing; it's useful for daily life and can be comforting. But I don't want to be comfortable; I want to feel like I'm in a different country! Perhaps it's a good thing, then, that my current routine will soon be almost completely upended.
Frankly, I don't have enough money to live here as I am currently living for another three months. I need to make some major lifestyle changes to afford the rest of my stay. I can't keep eating on Bui Vien street, for one. You can get an incredible meal on Bui Vien street that would cost at least $15 in the US for about $4--but that's still unfortunately about 3 more dollars than I can afford. So the fine dining is out. I also need to start taking the bus to and from work. I am currently paying my xe om about $2.50 a day; in contrast, taking the bus would cost about 20 cents a day. Over a entire month, that's a lot of money saved. Over three months . . . well, you get the picture. It's a good idea.
I also need a job. The job opportunity I mentioned previously would have worked well under different circumstances (not having to volunteer 4 hours every day), but I think that, because of my arrangement with AIS, I'm going to have to back out. So it's back to the drawing board. There are plenty of language schools in the area, though, so I don't think I'll have too much trouble. Job searching will certainly give me more to write about.
Finally, I need to seriously consider a new housing arrangement. I'm currently paying roughly 5 million a month to stay at the hotel ($270), which is a good rate, but it's too much for my current financial situation. I'm considering a wide variety of options; if any leads look promising, I will be sure to keep you all informed. Location is an important part of life here; it affects almost every aspect of your life. If I make a big move, it could change my routine more than any of the things I've mentioned.
Oh yes, and regarding pictures. I've been experiencing problems with my camera lately, so until they can be solved, new pictures don't seem like a possibility. The camera itself is fine; the problem is with the batteries. I brought rechargable ones along with me but the charger I brought doesn't work with the Vietnamese power system. I went to buy new batteries, but they did not work with my camera. So once I sort out the battery situation, I should be able to start taking pictures again.
Finally, everything has been worked out with the English Club. Don't worry about it. All issues have been resolved.
So, I guess we'll see where things go from here.
It's certainly not that life here has ceased to be exciting. I still see things, usually on a daily basis, that I've never seen before. But I don't feel the same excitement I did when I first arrived. I have fallen, for better or worse, into a routine. Walking down the street is no longer a relevatory experience; it's simply another part of my life. When I ride a motorbike down the street, I don't feel the same wonder I did the first time. I've grown used to living here.
Routine isn't a bad thing; it's useful for daily life and can be comforting. But I don't want to be comfortable; I want to feel like I'm in a different country! Perhaps it's a good thing, then, that my current routine will soon be almost completely upended.
Frankly, I don't have enough money to live here as I am currently living for another three months. I need to make some major lifestyle changes to afford the rest of my stay. I can't keep eating on Bui Vien street, for one. You can get an incredible meal on Bui Vien street that would cost at least $15 in the US for about $4--but that's still unfortunately about 3 more dollars than I can afford. So the fine dining is out. I also need to start taking the bus to and from work. I am currently paying my xe om about $2.50 a day; in contrast, taking the bus would cost about 20 cents a day. Over a entire month, that's a lot of money saved. Over three months . . . well, you get the picture. It's a good idea.
I also need a job. The job opportunity I mentioned previously would have worked well under different circumstances (not having to volunteer 4 hours every day), but I think that, because of my arrangement with AIS, I'm going to have to back out. So it's back to the drawing board. There are plenty of language schools in the area, though, so I don't think I'll have too much trouble. Job searching will certainly give me more to write about.
Finally, I need to seriously consider a new housing arrangement. I'm currently paying roughly 5 million a month to stay at the hotel ($270), which is a good rate, but it's too much for my current financial situation. I'm considering a wide variety of options; if any leads look promising, I will be sure to keep you all informed. Location is an important part of life here; it affects almost every aspect of your life. If I make a big move, it could change my routine more than any of the things I've mentioned.
Oh yes, and regarding pictures. I've been experiencing problems with my camera lately, so until they can be solved, new pictures don't seem like a possibility. The camera itself is fine; the problem is with the batteries. I brought rechargable ones along with me but the charger I brought doesn't work with the Vietnamese power system. I went to buy new batteries, but they did not work with my camera. So once I sort out the battery situation, I should be able to start taking pictures again.
Finally, everything has been worked out with the English Club. Don't worry about it. All issues have been resolved.
So, I guess we'll see where things go from here.
Friday, September 4, 2009
August Summary
Believe it or not, I've been here for nearly a month now.
I was going to do a write-up on my various misadventures with the English Club this week, but recently I had a very strange experience there that changed my opinion of some of the people involved. It's not something I want to discuss in the public sphere and frankly I'm still trying to sort it all out, so instead I think I'll do one of these things:
Most unexpected sight: Two kids watching Barbie: Princess and the Pauper. Yes, I know exactly which Barbie movie it was.
Most saddening: Twilight lining bookstore shelves. Yes, all the girls here are obsessed with it too.
Actually most saddening: a lot of older people are disabled, presumably from the war. Lots of people with no legs getting around in makeshift wheelchairs.
Scariest thing I've seen: Two young children driving a motorbike . . . while carrying a baby.
Question I've been asked most frequently: Do you have a girlfriend? (When I say "no" the response is often giggling)
Most common reaction to "Minnesota": Where?
Most fun I've had: Clubbing with people from English club (clubbing . . . get it?)
Most people I've seen on a motorbikeat once: 5
Interesting foods I've eaten: whole shrimp, duck head (well, I was served this, did not actually eat it), squid tentacles, authentic Indian food
Things I never want to taste again: Coriander. They use it in everything here. It's almost impossible to eat without tasting it.
Things I never want to drink again: Vietnamese rice wine. Unlike wine in the US, it is 50% alcohol. I was told this after taking my first sip.
Saddest story I've heard: There is a boy who works for the restaurant I frequent. The restaurant is owned by a family, so I assumed he was part of the family. I was told later that he is not; he is an orphan. I'm not sure how his mother died, but his father died of appendicitis because they couldn't afford the surgery to have his appendix removed.
Most promising news: I'm pretty sure I have a job. It's at a new school that doesn't open for a couple weeks, but I was told they needed people to work in the afternoons, which I can do, and they're fine with my lack of a degree.
Things I am planning to do this weekend: travel, go to church
Things I will hopefully have in my next entry: Pictures! It's been a very long time since I've posted any pictures. I'll try to take some more.
CORRECTION: I seem to have confused my spices. The spice they put in everything over here is not coriander, but rather, cilantro. Cilantro has a very distinct flavor. If you want, try putting a little cilantro into every meal you eat for a day. Then imagine a week. Then imagine four weeks. This will give you a good idea of exactly how sick of it I am growing. Luckily I did find a restaurant today that serves sandwiches without cilantro. I am more grateful for this discovery than you can possibly imagine.
CORRECTION TO MY CORRECTION: I've just discovered that coriander and cilantro are, in fact, the same thing. So . . . nevermind.
I was going to do a write-up on my various misadventures with the English Club this week, but recently I had a very strange experience there that changed my opinion of some of the people involved. It's not something I want to discuss in the public sphere and frankly I'm still trying to sort it all out, so instead I think I'll do one of these things:
Most unexpected sight: Two kids watching Barbie: Princess and the Pauper. Yes, I know exactly which Barbie movie it was.
Most saddening: Twilight lining bookstore shelves. Yes, all the girls here are obsessed with it too.
Actually most saddening: a lot of older people are disabled, presumably from the war. Lots of people with no legs getting around in makeshift wheelchairs.
Scariest thing I've seen: Two young children driving a motorbike . . . while carrying a baby.
Question I've been asked most frequently: Do you have a girlfriend? (When I say "no" the response is often giggling)
Most common reaction to "Minnesota": Where?
Most fun I've had: Clubbing with people from English club (clubbing . . . get it?)
Most people I've seen on a motorbikeat once: 5
Interesting foods I've eaten: whole shrimp, duck head (well, I was served this, did not actually eat it), squid tentacles, authentic Indian food
Things I never want to taste again: Coriander. They use it in everything here. It's almost impossible to eat without tasting it.
Things I never want to drink again: Vietnamese rice wine. Unlike wine in the US, it is 50% alcohol. I was told this after taking my first sip.
Saddest story I've heard: There is a boy who works for the restaurant I frequent. The restaurant is owned by a family, so I assumed he was part of the family. I was told later that he is not; he is an orphan. I'm not sure how his mother died, but his father died of appendicitis because they couldn't afford the surgery to have his appendix removed.
Most promising news: I'm pretty sure I have a job. It's at a new school that doesn't open for a couple weeks, but I was told they needed people to work in the afternoons, which I can do, and they're fine with my lack of a degree.
Things I am planning to do this weekend: travel, go to church
Things I will hopefully have in my next entry: Pictures! It's been a very long time since I've posted any pictures. I'll try to take some more.
CORRECTION: I seem to have confused my spices. The spice they put in everything over here is not coriander, but rather, cilantro. Cilantro has a very distinct flavor. If you want, try putting a little cilantro into every meal you eat for a day. Then imagine a week. Then imagine four weeks. This will give you a good idea of exactly how sick of it I am growing. Luckily I did find a restaurant today that serves sandwiches without cilantro. I am more grateful for this discovery than you can possibly imagine.
CORRECTION TO MY CORRECTION: I've just discovered that coriander and cilantro are, in fact, the same thing. So . . . nevermind.
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