One Month Down; An Assortment of Alliterations

Motorbike Monday
Riding the bus here takes quite a lot of energy and focus as Traci and I realized further last Monday. When we got on the second bus we take to get to the orphanage, we told the bus tender what stop we wanted to get off at because the bus was too packed to be able to see for ourselves. The guy was quite a comedian and was entertained by the fact that Traci could speak and understand Vietnamese. However, while he was charming us, he failed to let us know that our stop had passed. When we started going over a big, unfamiliar bridge, Traci and I looked at each other and realized we were way too far. We got off at the next stop, and while the bus tender misled us in believing he would notify us when our stop was, he yelled, "watch out, pretty ladies coming through (in Vietnamese)" as we exited the bus.

There was no intersection in sight, so we resorted to taking a motorbike taxi. The two of us hopped on a bike and agreed on a price for the guy to take us to the orphanage. However, he misheard Traci and stopped at this gorgeous gated community in the middle of a flooded, garbage-filled neighborhood. We called Dao, the head of ELI here, and she told the driver what we apparently failed in communicating. As we walked through the gate of the orphanage laughing, the kids were a little puzzled as to why we were so giddy. Per usual, however, Hiep, the little boy with Down's, ran to give us hugs and take our shoes to our locker. We doubted where we were being taken for a short period of time, but it was a fun adventure nevertheless.

Bus Buddies
I probably spend a minimum of two hours on the bus everyday and sometimes up to five or six depending on traffic. Most of the time it's just okay, during rush hour it's miserable, and a few of the rides have actually been great. A few Fridays ago, I hopped on a super packed bus and made my way to the front so I could see where I needed to get off. A French guy was sitting no more than a half of a centimeter away from me and struck up conversation. He just began his retirement in Viet Nam a few months ago because his wife is from here. Moreover, he knew he didn't want to live under Sarkozy's government any longer. Socialism doesn't seem to be working wonders over here, but this guy prefers it. I wish I could remember his exact title, but he was what sounded like the chief occupational therapist/psychologist for most of the top French government officials. He has been visiting Saigon about once a year for the past 15-20 years, so it was interesting to hear what he had to say about how the city has changed over the years. The major differences, he said, are that there's more trash on the street, more motorbikes on the road, and more chub on the kids every year.

I rode the bus home from District 1 this past Friday, which is about an hour or so ride. I sat down on the front seat next to a boy in a school uniform and pulled out my book to read to pass the time. I noticed through my peripheral vision that he was glancing at my pages every so often. Finally, he worked up the courage to tell me that English is his favorite subject at school, but he never gets to practice speaking it because there's no one to speak it with around here. I ended up learning more Vietnamase than he learned English during the 20 minute bus lesson, but I think he was glad to just converse with a native English speaker.

Right as he got off the bus, I heard a familiar girl's voice say my name. Dieu, a girl who had befriended an ELI volunteer a few months back and has been sort of passed down through the volunteers as a contact since, was on the bus as well. She lives near us, and Traci and I had just met her for coffee the day before! She needed to get her brother a gift for his birthday, so we ended up having a wonderful 8pm shopping date.

Although there is a fairly normal work day, as evidenced by the 6-7am and 4-6pm rush hours, there isn't a real decisive day life and night life. At any given time of the day, there are Vietnamese people working, going to school, on a date on a motorbike, having coffee, and napping. Furthermore, some food stands and shops are only open during the day, and some are only open during the night. There doesn't seem to be very strict hours, so you just have to be flexible when on the prowl for some food or clothes.

Taco Tuesday
Ellen, Traci, & I have made Tuesday night our date night, so last week we went to Gringo's, a Mexican restaurant, for Taco Tuesday. Although I opted for some quesadillas instead of tacos, I definitely took advantage of the 2-for-1 margarita special. As always, it was such a blast hearing about Ellen's students and the craziness of the way her school is run. Our main topic of discussion this week, however, was gay marriage and gay rights in general. Two of Ellen's brothers are gay and one of Traci's sisters is, so we all had a personal connection and stories to contribute. We were talking about coming out stories and family acceptance, or lack thereof. By the time we were on our second margaritas, though, the conversation grew a bit more light-hearted and filled with laughter as well. The owner came to our table and asked where we were from, what we were doing here, etc. He's half-Vietnamese, had lived in San Diego all his life, and just decided to move to HCMC and open up a Tex-Mex restaurant a few years back. He said he was having a big Thanksgiving dinner with only Americans and invited us to come. Traci will be home in Texas by then, but Ellen and I gave him our contact info and got super excited to have a place to go and people to be with on Thanksgiving. Until I got a better offer...

Frisbee in the Philippines
I received an e-mail from Lien, the lead girl in the Saigon Ultimate club, that night inviting me to what sounds like an amazing weekend. The ultimate crew in Manila, Philippines is hosting a big, 3-day tournament November 26-28. The first day is split up into men's and women's teams, and next two days are played mixed (men and women on the same team). Lien had already been in contact with the captains of a women's team and a mixed team and said they'd love to have us play with them. It's a pretty big commitment, time-wise and financially, so most of the players around here aren't willing to make the trip. One of the other girls that was going to go realized it was her graduation weekend, and thus a spot emerged for me to attend. Lien and I will fly out early and stay a day after the tournament to explore Manila a bit as well. While it doesn't look like I'll be having an official Thanksgiving, I'm excited to take advantage of this incredible opportunity.

Doctor Drama
When I went to Vung Tao with the ultimate club a few weeks ago, I got bit by some ants on my feet and ankles. I didn't think much of the continuing itching because it was pretty mild and localized. I bought some over-the-counter anti-histamine and some anti-itch cream. However, last week the itch increased in magnitude considerably. For about two and a half days straight, I spent more time itching than not, and it was worse than what I remember the chicken pox to be. To make matters worse, I jammed my fourth toe into the washing machine Wednesday night when I slipped in the bathroom. It was growing in girth and the bluish-purplish color was spreading up my foot. Although I'm health care professional-bound, this was more than I was equipped to deal with. I got the name of an American doctor from Ellen and went to see him at a clinic Thursday afternoon. As we were exchanging questions and answers, he looked at my forms again and said, "Shira...so are you Jewish?" I told him I was and that I was impressed he knew that, considering his dark complexion and definitively Indian name. He replied by saying that his wife is Jewish, they are Reform, and his sons names are Ari and Eli. He asked what I did for the holidays, and I told him that I was home for Rosh Hashana but arrived in HCMC on Erev Yom Kippur, so my observances were just in my thoughts this year. He chuckled and then proceeded to ask if I had somewhere to go for Passover Seder. I told him I wasn't sure if the holiday is before I depart Viet Nam in the Spring, so he told me that since I'm the "real" Jew, I should find out and let him know because he and his wife would love to have me. Turns out, I'll be having Seder with the family in Minneapolis, but it was an incredibly warm gesture and very much appreciated. Dr. Rangarajan has been here for a couple years and will be here for about three more because he's a "trailing spouse;" his wife works for the UN, so she brought the family out here. One socially-constructed gender stereotype broken down, about a hundred to go. Anyways, he gave me a prescription for a stronger anti-histamine, which has proved helpful, and told me to tape my jammed fourth toe to my third toe. Even if it was broken, there isn't really an effective splint for the little piggy that didn't have any roast beef.

Magnificent Mui Ne
Traci and I spent the weekend at the shores of Mui Ne, but we ended up only spending a couple hours actually on the beach. We rode a tour bus for the 5-hour drive West, and arrived at our cute resort at about 1:30. We stayed in a little guest house with two double beds and a bathroom (left). It was adorable and perfect for Traci and me. At 2pm, we were picked up in a Jeep by our tour guide and the rest of our tour group; two small groups of people from Thailand.

First we walked around a spectacularly-eroded mountain with rich, rust-colored sand and white stalagmite-like projections. We did it all barefoot, which was great, except my severely bruised toe inhibited my speed and strength up the hills of the loose sand. Now that would be a good place to do a hill workout after Bascom gets too easy (Bella). It definitely didn't compare to my limitations after my ankle surgery, but I was a little surprised by the discomfort caused by my little fourth toe.

Next, we stopped at the big fishing port. Mui Ne is known for their fish sauce production, and they often use basket boats, whose appearance is in the name, in addition to normal fishing boats. While it could have been interesting to learn about, our tour guide's accent was too thick to understand and the fish sauce smell was pretty overwhelming to make it all that enjoyable.

My favorite part of the tour was riding around on a 4-wheeler in the white sand dunes. It was just 100,000 Dong ($5) for 15 minutes, and since I missed the opportunity in Namibia two years ago, I couldn't pass this one up. Traci and I were thoroughly enjoying ourselves until we realized we couldn't get out of a bowl we had driven into. A whole new element of fun was added then when an escape route was the end goal. We couldn't find one ourselves in time, so a couple of the local boys came and drove our 4-wheelers out for us. They were nice enough, though, to let us drive them back to the entrance at least.

Lastly, we went to the red sand dunes before dark. There wasn't much of a sunset because it was overcast, but there was a beautiful view of the sea. Cute local kids were running around as well, and Traci brought up how fun it would be to have the dunes for a backyard/playground!

After returning to the resort, we enjoyed a tranquil dinner and then read in our respective beds for a bit before going to sleep. We felt like an old, retired couple, just enjoying our books and each others' company. We headed to the beach Sunday morning after enjoying some fresh fruit juice and omelettes for breakfast. By 10am it was already too hot and we had to check out by 11am. We showered, packed up, and just chilled at the restaurant until our return bus picked us up at about 1pm. All in all it was a great balance of adventure and R&R throughout the two days, considering my walking was impeded and Traci was feeling under the weather. I was thrilled, though, to get back to the kids at the orphanage today. I hope to compile a "team" bio of the kids at Thien Phuoc in the near future...

I thought it would be nice to go without Facebook for six months, but the truth of the matter is that it's a global phenomenon on which certain types of contact depend. Everyone that I meet here asks if I have a FB account, and since I still haven't memorized my Vietnamese cell phone number, I had to get back on.