Friday, July 15, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
July 14
Riding on a motorcycle in the streets of Nha Trang is a perilous experience. With little traffic light operating, motorcyclists have to be watchful of larger cars and layabout pedestrians who like to walk in the middle of the street. One second of absentmindedness can cost a life. Sitting on the back of my uncle's motorcycle, I was bombarded with sounds of passing drivers, the roar of engines straining and the occasional voice booming from megaphones that advertises virtue and various products. The general rule for motorcycles is for each to have a maximum of three riders, and any more and the driver could be fined. Everyone must wear a helmet, save younger kids, which I find particularly confusing. It's not uncommon to see a baby riding at the bottom of his parent's feet, seated in the section usually preserved for groceries or small items. His parent would have a hand on the baby's head, as if that could do anything; one sharp turn and that could be the end of his life. It's easy to see, if riding on a motorcycle, the inside of a typical family's home where the living room acts as the dining area, garage (for motorcycles), and kitchen. The upstairs operates as a restaurant or bedroom. Neon signs of 'brand name' stores flashes at you as you sit at that one traffic light.
For a person who is accustomed to riding a vehicle that has a hood and secured doors, riding on the motorcycle was fun. I felt strangely at ease as we cruised by various street names and shambled houses. There's a striking contrast between the shambles and the sections where supermarkets and high-end stores are in business.
Everything seemed more exhilarating in the rain. I think my uncle thought I was crazy because I refused to wear a rain coat! Haha.
Cruising through Nha Trang was a great way to end the day. Earlier in the morning, we had gone mud-bathing at Thap Ba Hot Spring Mudbath, and I was so pleasantly surprised. I never had the urge to go mud-bathing and thought the effect of it would be close to nothing, but absolutely loved it! My skin feels so smooth now. And the hot springs were to die for! Then I got my first massage. One hour of pure bliss for a price of 6 dollars! You gotta love Vietnam prices.
The day before, An, Elizabeth, a neighborhood girl, and I went out clubbing! It just loved dancing and I had so much fun--I didn't drink anything either. I forgot how much I missed dancing with abandon and just having fun. There was this one guy who liked to dance and would try to pair us girls with other boys, but if we said no, he just let us be. When we left it was funny because he and I exchanged one of those one-armed hugs/fist bumped each other. I made a new friend!
We're gonna go again for sure because we have a cousin that just arrived and she just loves dancing! We told her that she'd have to leave her kids and husband at home--and she said of course! AHHH can't wait. Everyone's home, save for one cousin, but frankly, I'm quite thankful for that :) (Hint hint at the family drama!)
For now, here are some pics :)
For a person who is accustomed to riding a vehicle that has a hood and secured doors, riding on the motorcycle was fun. I felt strangely at ease as we cruised by various street names and shambled houses. There's a striking contrast between the shambles and the sections where supermarkets and high-end stores are in business.
Everything seemed more exhilarating in the rain. I think my uncle thought I was crazy because I refused to wear a rain coat! Haha.
Cruising through Nha Trang was a great way to end the day. Earlier in the morning, we had gone mud-bathing at Thap Ba Hot Spring Mudbath, and I was so pleasantly surprised. I never had the urge to go mud-bathing and thought the effect of it would be close to nothing, but absolutely loved it! My skin feels so smooth now. And the hot springs were to die for! Then I got my first massage. One hour of pure bliss for a price of 6 dollars! You gotta love Vietnam prices.
The day before, An, Elizabeth, a neighborhood girl, and I went out clubbing! It just loved dancing and I had so much fun--I didn't drink anything either. I forgot how much I missed dancing with abandon and just having fun. There was this one guy who liked to dance and would try to pair us girls with other boys, but if we said no, he just let us be. When we left it was funny because he and I exchanged one of those one-armed hugs/fist bumped each other. I made a new friend!
We're gonna go again for sure because we have a cousin that just arrived and she just loves dancing! We told her that she'd have to leave her kids and husband at home--and she said of course! AHHH can't wait. Everyone's home, save for one cousin, but frankly, I'm quite thankful for that :) (Hint hint at the family drama!)
For now, here are some pics :)
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| We found some Vietnamese 'guidos!' The one on the right is definitely Snookie. |
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| Mud-bathing!!! |
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Oops
I've fallen behind on my blog updates! Things have been wild here. I'll try and post another one starting July 13, so look out for that!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
July 9 and 10: a blur
Skipped a day because I didn't feel like writing up a blog post. But long story short, Vietnam doesn't have an age limit for drinking, so when I went out with my cousins on the night of July 8, who are around the same age as me, I thought I'd try a small frozen mango daiquiri.
Well, as my mom told me later, Vietnam packs in the liquor.
There was some rum, some vodka, all kinds of daiquiri--I don't know what other things, but as I was walking along the beach, my vision started to darken and blur, and I couldn't walk for a little while. I had to ride behind the groom-to-be on his motorcycle to the hotel he was staying at, and it was there when I collapsed on one of my cousins' bed. She laughed once I came to, and sent me home in a taxi with A and E.
I thought I could handle my gurgling stomach, but when I came to the house entrance, I let it all out. It was a bit sour--just not a good experience. Now I think back about drinking that daquiri and my initial assessment of it being delicious has morphed into something like disgust. I'm not sure if I'll drink a daquiri again. Hell, maybe I won't even touch a glass of any alcohol for as long as I live. I can't comprehend how other people like to drink to blackout!
The day is the 10th as I am writing this, and I'm cooling down after a long, busy day. My cousin, Nhu, had her engagement party today, and as with everything, the Vietnamese went all out with the preparations. Colors of dark red and golden yellow adorned the living room and outside perimeters of the house. The entrance had an archway of pink (cousin's favorite color) balloon. The vast arrangement of chairs and tables hinted at the coming party.
We all prepared by getting our hair done--though I didn't do much, since mine is short--and putting on our dresses, which we received the night before.
I almost had a panic attack last night because I tried on my dress and it was too tight! I mean, did I get so fat in just a few days? The other dresses didn't need any serious readjustments--and I guess, mine didn't either--but still, the night before?!?
And she did a bit of a shoddy job. Some of the dresses still had her tailor's marks and weren't ironed properly. She's supposed to do all this, yet we were left the task at 11 p.m. last night.
Anyways, though, the next day went smoothly. The bride-to-be was simply gorgeous with her long dark brown hair curled to figurative perfection and dressed in a pink ao dai.
The thing about Vietnamese engagement parties is that not only the bride is important but also her mother (and father.) The mother is dressed as extravagantly as her daughter--and she is treated with the same level of importance.
I hate, however, the competition within my family. I have an aunt who just saw her daughter get married. It was a great wedding, because the couple wanted it to reflect who they are--rich elites of society. The daughter grew up to be just like her mother--my aunt. For most of my life and the time that I've known her, it's pretty clear that she likes to be the center of attention.
Even as everyone was getting ready, my aunt was the one who demanded that she get priority. Her hair curled, her dress changed, her makeup down--oh she wanted it all! She even changed her dress and used the dress she had for the wedding--the traditional 'mother's' dress. Typically, this type of dress is black and decorated with a glitterlike material to make whoever wears it stand out. She seemed to have forgotten about her sister whose daughter was now getting married and the fact that it was not her day to be recognized. She already had her turn.
I don't know if this tradition is exactly a rule, but still, I was like, "Don't be greedy."
Anyways, besides that:
The procession of the ceremony was long and unbearably hot--more so because I was wearing an ao dai in 90+ degrees heat. I was part of the unmarried group of women that lines up in front of the entrance, waiting for the guy's family to appear. The men of the family carry large red containers, containing various fruits, teas, etc. They are considered 'gifts.' A roasted little pig and a pre-wedding cake were thrown into the mix somewhere. The women receive these gifts and bear it to the rest of the party by carrying it into the decorated living room.
From there, the families are introduced to each other, and a 'spokesperson' from each does the task. A videographer and photographer--usually Vietnamese--hovers in the background, annoyingly poking various people to get their attention, or tell them to move, or command a pose. In my opinion, sometimes they get in the way of everything.
It was funny because Elizabeth owns this huge, professional SLR and she used it during the ceremony. I think the photographer thought our family had our own!
To make it official, the groom-to-be unveils the engagement ring and slowly, agonizingly places it on the girl's finger at the command of the videographer. Everything is posed and taped.
I was sweating balls throughout the whole thing; I couldn't understand how the other girls weren't suffering.
The feast proceeds and of course, all of the food was delicious. There were sauteed beef, fried shrimp chips, mixed meat and vegetable salads, roasted chicken, and oriental soup. All attendees were forced to eat until their stomachs were just about to explode.
It's funny, because after the party, everything seems to die down and all things go back to normal. The bride-to-be changes into striped bermuda shorts and pink tank top. The house is stripped of its decoration. The outside gardens are relieved of the intruding chairs and tables.
In short, it was a wonderfully successful party, but we are all eager to relax...until the wedding, that is!
Well, as my mom told me later, Vietnam packs in the liquor.
There was some rum, some vodka, all kinds of daiquiri--I don't know what other things, but as I was walking along the beach, my vision started to darken and blur, and I couldn't walk for a little while. I had to ride behind the groom-to-be on his motorcycle to the hotel he was staying at, and it was there when I collapsed on one of my cousins' bed. She laughed once I came to, and sent me home in a taxi with A and E.
I thought I could handle my gurgling stomach, but when I came to the house entrance, I let it all out. It was a bit sour--just not a good experience. Now I think back about drinking that daquiri and my initial assessment of it being delicious has morphed into something like disgust. I'm not sure if I'll drink a daquiri again. Hell, maybe I won't even touch a glass of any alcohol for as long as I live. I can't comprehend how other people like to drink to blackout!
The day is the 10th as I am writing this, and I'm cooling down after a long, busy day. My cousin, Nhu, had her engagement party today, and as with everything, the Vietnamese went all out with the preparations. Colors of dark red and golden yellow adorned the living room and outside perimeters of the house. The entrance had an archway of pink (cousin's favorite color) balloon. The vast arrangement of chairs and tables hinted at the coming party.
We all prepared by getting our hair done--though I didn't do much, since mine is short--and putting on our dresses, which we received the night before.
I almost had a panic attack last night because I tried on my dress and it was too tight! I mean, did I get so fat in just a few days? The other dresses didn't need any serious readjustments--and I guess, mine didn't either--but still, the night before?!?
And she did a bit of a shoddy job. Some of the dresses still had her tailor's marks and weren't ironed properly. She's supposed to do all this, yet we were left the task at 11 p.m. last night.
Anyways, though, the next day went smoothly. The bride-to-be was simply gorgeous with her long dark brown hair curled to figurative perfection and dressed in a pink ao dai.
The thing about Vietnamese engagement parties is that not only the bride is important but also her mother (and father.) The mother is dressed as extravagantly as her daughter--and she is treated with the same level of importance.
I hate, however, the competition within my family. I have an aunt who just saw her daughter get married. It was a great wedding, because the couple wanted it to reflect who they are--rich elites of society. The daughter grew up to be just like her mother--my aunt. For most of my life and the time that I've known her, it's pretty clear that she likes to be the center of attention.
Even as everyone was getting ready, my aunt was the one who demanded that she get priority. Her hair curled, her dress changed, her makeup down--oh she wanted it all! She even changed her dress and used the dress she had for the wedding--the traditional 'mother's' dress. Typically, this type of dress is black and decorated with a glitterlike material to make whoever wears it stand out. She seemed to have forgotten about her sister whose daughter was now getting married and the fact that it was not her day to be recognized. She already had her turn.
I don't know if this tradition is exactly a rule, but still, I was like, "Don't be greedy."
Anyways, besides that:
The procession of the ceremony was long and unbearably hot--more so because I was wearing an ao dai in 90+ degrees heat. I was part of the unmarried group of women that lines up in front of the entrance, waiting for the guy's family to appear. The men of the family carry large red containers, containing various fruits, teas, etc. They are considered 'gifts.' A roasted little pig and a pre-wedding cake were thrown into the mix somewhere. The women receive these gifts and bear it to the rest of the party by carrying it into the decorated living room.
From there, the families are introduced to each other, and a 'spokesperson' from each does the task. A videographer and photographer--usually Vietnamese--hovers in the background, annoyingly poking various people to get their attention, or tell them to move, or command a pose. In my opinion, sometimes they get in the way of everything.
It was funny because Elizabeth owns this huge, professional SLR and she used it during the ceremony. I think the photographer thought our family had our own!
To make it official, the groom-to-be unveils the engagement ring and slowly, agonizingly places it on the girl's finger at the command of the videographer. Everything is posed and taped.
I was sweating balls throughout the whole thing; I couldn't understand how the other girls weren't suffering.
The feast proceeds and of course, all of the food was delicious. There were sauteed beef, fried shrimp chips, mixed meat and vegetable salads, roasted chicken, and oriental soup. All attendees were forced to eat until their stomachs were just about to explode.
It's funny, because after the party, everything seems to die down and all things go back to normal. The bride-to-be changes into striped bermuda shorts and pink tank top. The house is stripped of its decoration. The outside gardens are relieved of the intruding chairs and tables.
In short, it was a wonderfully successful party, but we are all eager to relax...until the wedding, that is!
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| The couple! |
Friday, July 8, 2011
July 8: lazy day
Surprisingly, we did not go to the beach today. An and Elizabeth got a little burned from last time, so we're taking a break...until tomorrow!
It's about 5 p.m. as I am writing this, and we're all just laying about. E is reading, An is being her crazy self and, of course, I'm writing. Everyone caught the lazy bug.
We went to try on our first traditional dress, and I just love mine! They did it so fast too; how admirable the tailor's work is. That took a bit of time, but hey, I had nothing else to do.
I learned how to play Rummy 500, which is a really fun game. I'm shocked by how quick I picked it up, since card games are usually not my thing. My ability to play is limited to mostly solitaire, spit, blackjack and goldfish--but do they count as card games?
Later we got our nails done at a nearby shop. It seems like everything we need is a walk away. Of course, we got weird looks again (I should get used to it), but I just tried to ignore it. There was this incident when a guy who was driving a motorcycle honked at us and stopped at a spot ahead, as if expecting us to approach him. We walked towards him, since it was the direction we were supposed to go. Once we walked totally past him, he got the message. Honestly, did he think we wanted a ride? What a creep.
We got manis and pedis and a bit of eyebrow threading. All of it cost less than 2 dollars. Can you believe? The prices here are so low, and I now realize that America is ridiculously overpriced. The girls who did our nails are earning nothing compared to those who get 25-30 for every set! One particular girl who worked on me was 17-years-old. My cousin asked if she was still in school, but she said 'no.' Then, in a manner that I thought was horribly rude, asked, "Do you have a child?" The girl answered no in a polite way. If I were in her place, it'd probably lash out at my cousin.
It's sad to see a girl around my age working for such a measly pay. A lot of children in vietnam and other financially disavantaged countries are forced into slavery or have to work because their parents abandoned them. It's just not right.
I contacted Blue Dragon a month ago, because I wanted to tell them that I was going to be in Vietnam and wondered if they needed help. They never replied, so now, I don't know what to do. I know in the future, when I can, I will do more to help everyone. Right now, however, I'm afraid I can only give them money when they ask or buy them a small meal if they beg. Yeah, it sounds horrible.
I have a second cousin here--she's about 5. Her parents abandoned her and left her with her grandmother. My aunt, the mean one, knowing full well about her background, asked where her mother and father were. The little girl looked like she was about to cry! Honestly, I hate Vietnamese humor sometimes. They can be so blunt--and not in a good way!
We thought one of the dogs here was sick, so we bought a bottle to feed her two puppies. It was so adorable; the mother followed our every move to make sure her kids were alright. In the end, she fed her puppies herself. Honestly the cutest thing I've seen here!
It's about 5 p.m. as I am writing this, and we're all just laying about. E is reading, An is being her crazy self and, of course, I'm writing. Everyone caught the lazy bug.
We went to try on our first traditional dress, and I just love mine! They did it so fast too; how admirable the tailor's work is. That took a bit of time, but hey, I had nothing else to do.
I learned how to play Rummy 500, which is a really fun game. I'm shocked by how quick I picked it up, since card games are usually not my thing. My ability to play is limited to mostly solitaire, spit, blackjack and goldfish--but do they count as card games?
Later we got our nails done at a nearby shop. It seems like everything we need is a walk away. Of course, we got weird looks again (I should get used to it), but I just tried to ignore it. There was this incident when a guy who was driving a motorcycle honked at us and stopped at a spot ahead, as if expecting us to approach him. We walked towards him, since it was the direction we were supposed to go. Once we walked totally past him, he got the message. Honestly, did he think we wanted a ride? What a creep.
We got manis and pedis and a bit of eyebrow threading. All of it cost less than 2 dollars. Can you believe? The prices here are so low, and I now realize that America is ridiculously overpriced. The girls who did our nails are earning nothing compared to those who get 25-30 for every set! One particular girl who worked on me was 17-years-old. My cousin asked if she was still in school, but she said 'no.' Then, in a manner that I thought was horribly rude, asked, "Do you have a child?" The girl answered no in a polite way. If I were in her place, it'd probably lash out at my cousin.
It's sad to see a girl around my age working for such a measly pay. A lot of children in vietnam and other financially disavantaged countries are forced into slavery or have to work because their parents abandoned them. It's just not right.
I contacted Blue Dragon a month ago, because I wanted to tell them that I was going to be in Vietnam and wondered if they needed help. They never replied, so now, I don't know what to do. I know in the future, when I can, I will do more to help everyone. Right now, however, I'm afraid I can only give them money when they ask or buy them a small meal if they beg. Yeah, it sounds horrible.
I have a second cousin here--she's about 5. Her parents abandoned her and left her with her grandmother. My aunt, the mean one, knowing full well about her background, asked where her mother and father were. The little girl looked like she was about to cry! Honestly, I hate Vietnamese humor sometimes. They can be so blunt--and not in a good way!
We thought one of the dogs here was sick, so we bought a bottle to feed her two puppies. It was so adorable; the mother followed our every move to make sure her kids were alright. In the end, she fed her puppies herself. Honestly the cutest thing I've seen here!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
July 7: nothing special
Measured our traditional Vietnamese dresses. Ate. Beach. Tan. Nothing really much to say!
Well, the groom went to get his nose hairs trimmed, but they cut the inside of his nose instead and he had to get stitches. But I don't think you wanted to know that, right?
Awkward.
Well, the groom went to get his nose hairs trimmed, but they cut the inside of his nose instead and he had to get stitches. But I don't think you wanted to know that, right?
Awkward.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
July 6: finally, the beach!
So right now, I am at the most popular beach in Nha Trang, drinking a cup of avocado shake and right across from me An and Elizabeth are sharing a large coconut size of coconut ice cream and a cup of fresh orange juice. Right next our table is white, pearly sand that is warm but not too hot to walk on. The sound of rippling blue water lapping against the sound, the chatter of Vietnamese friends, and the calls of seagulls greet our ears.
Suffice to say, I think I'm in paradise.
An, Elizabeth, and I took a cab (on our own) to the beach and that cost us around 5 dollars in total. We were at a store that sells fabric for áo dài (the traditional Vietnamese dress) and had just finished choosing two designs for our dresses. We need them for our cousin's engagement party and wedding which are on the 10th and 16th respectively. The wedding is the main reason why we're even in Vietnam.
I'm really relieved that the wedding stuff is not taking up too much of our vacation. We have time to relax and sleep, and just have fun.
I don't remember much of our beach adventures ten years ago, but now I have the beauty of the beach engrained in my memories. The beach stretches miles and miles along the busiest road of Nha Trang and the best restaurants and shopping places can be found on the boardwalk.
As expected, the three of us got weird looks because of the way we dressed. Add in Elizabeth, who is Italian-American, and anyone can tell that we don't exactly 'belong' in Vietnam. I hate it that people talk to us in English. I mean, my sister and I are clearly Vietnamese, and even though we are also American, we still know basic Vietnamese language. Plus, I want to practice speaking Vietnamese.
I got so frustrated that I decided to be funny (and mean?) and started speaking Spanish to one of the people who tried to sell us stuff on the beach. The guy looked completely confused! What a shocker. Next time (or tomorrow), I'll try talking in Japanese (or as a good friend says 'Nihongo!')
It was so nice to just rest on the beach and get tan. One of my aunts said, however, that natives of Vietnam rather be white because it seems more "western." Some (crazy) people wear long-sleeved sweaters and long pants to try and block the sun (I don't know why they don't try wearing sunscreen). People even peel some of their skin! Scary!
But it's quite the opposite in America, right? (in Fairfield, CT, haha)
Also, while the other two were swimming, someone starts calling my name, but I just ignored it because I thought: “Out of all the spots on this big beach, who would come and find me?” Well, it was my cousin’s intended. His name I always forget, but it’s not like I don’t like him; my memory is just bad. But yes, he came by my chair and I was ready to attack, thinking it was some pervert (because there’s a lot in Vietnam—and my sister said that she thought the same thing and was ready to help me) but no, it was this nice, unassuming guy who just wanted to take his cousin-in-laws out to lunch.
He really is a nice guy for my cousin. He’s quiet, considerate, and thoughtful like my cousin. They’re a good match.
Later, when we went home, the scariest thing happened! My uncle let us try his motorcycle, and of course, I refused, knowing I could not operate it at all. He just said no and practically forced me on the vehicle.
He shouldn’t have.
I guess I had pressed the accelerator when I should have pressed the brake, but next thing I knew, I was getting helped up by my sister. Apparently, I crashed into one of the coconut trees and broke a flower pot, and then I fell to the ground and was unresponsive for a few seconds. Yeah, good times.
Guess I’m not gonna ride a motorcycle any time soon. My uncle, my dad (who was there), Liz and An promised not to tell the tiger moms about the incident as they would turn to blame my uncle and not me. And—poor guy—I don’t want that. Nor do I want to get in trouble!
Later, we took a quick nap, then headed out with the guy’s family—sort of like the meet and greet before the wedding week. We went to this really cool restaurant called in Vietnamese, Yellow Straw, that sits right on a river. Now, we Vietnamese tend to order way too much, and that’s what my cousin and her fiancé did!
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| Mì quảng, noodle soup for breakfast |
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| Yellow Straw |
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| First of 5 entrees! |
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| Beach (many people are working during this time so that's why it's so empty :) More room for us!) |
Here comes the food coma! Day 4, we plan to get even more tan :)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
July 5: visiting the past
Over in America, it's my birthday! It's about 5 p.m. right now, and I can finally charge my laptop. Hooray!
Man, it's only been a day or two, but I feel like my family and I have done so much since returning to Vietnam.
Mom woke us up in the morning, claiming it was 8 and that we were long overdue for breakfast! In reality, it was 6:30, but that lying witch wanted us to get up early! :) Well, it was alright; I was already awake at the time and for an hour, I was listening to the sound of busyness that was just outside my window. The roar of motorcycles cruising by and the honks of impatient vehicle drivers as they tried to navigate through a busy narrow alley in the morning had rudely awoken me
I later found out that my sister and Elizabeth had done the same thing!
It felt...glorious to wake up and walk out into the sunbathed front porch of my mom's childhood home. With the light streaming through the leaves of towering coconut trees and the aroma of authentic food from street vendors, I felt so alive--even though it was still so early.
We had fresh eggs and warm loaves of bread and cups of strong Vietnamese coffee. After, instead of the 'typical' milk and orange juice drinks, we picked some coconuts off our tree and drank from them. My mom, craving pieces of her childhood memory, bought a bowl of bún sợi to for about 18,000 dong--less than a dollar! Now we're going to have some for tomorrow's breakfast.
The reason for waking up so early: my dad wanted to visit the grave site of his mother--my grandmother--who passed away last year. He was there to see her burial, but wanted to bring the family back to pay respects. We took a taxi from Nha Trang to the rural side of the town. It's astonishing; taxi drivers are so talented because they don't use addresses as their destinations--they just need a certain landmark. For example, my mom's house does not have an exact address, but the driver found it by the distinct coconut tree that's just outside the house.
My parents' memories are astounding! After ten years and ever-changing scenery, they are still able to find my relatives' homes spread around town. We dropped by a cafe owned by my dad's distant cousins and chatted for awhile. They ask the typical things--where's the oldest son? How's Dan doing? It's the typical Vietnamese thing to ask, as the oldest of the family, and especially if the oldest is male, is considered the most important. Then they are just so shocked to see my sister, and they spend the rest of the time remarking that she's 'so tall' for a Vietnamese girl. Next, they'd ask about Elizabeth and--that poor girl--has to just sit around and smile as something like Gibberish flows through one ear and out the other! Before they can even get to me, it's time to go! Luckily for me though, because I'm really getting tired of saying: "Yes, I am a sophomore in college...no, not in high school...yep, I know I still look like I'm 15...majoring in journalism, uh huh, yes I can speak and understand Vietnamese...what language have I been speaking for the last fucking 20 minutes?"
( The last bit I usually keep to myself.)
Yet, custom says I must be nice about everything, so I just nod and smile.
To get to my grandma's burial site we had to venture through the woods, past vast rice fields, dodge bushes full of torn and find the area for tombstones nestled at the foot of rocky hills.
When we arrived, I saw something that was familiar, yet not. Since arriving in Vietnam, Elizabeth has been noting a lot of swastika-like signs on numerous buildings. That puzzled me because I don't think Germany had ever touched the country; so, I did a bit of research and found that the swastika here is not a nod to the anti-Semitic behavior of the Nazis. Here is the symbol used during the German regime:
The ones we have been seeing look like this:
This is the symbol seen in religions like Hinduism and Buddhism and generally means something close to peace. I've seen this on many temples and tombstones. It's just sad that the Nazis had to use a symbol so close to something has the opposite meaning...
For the rest of the day, we literally walked around everywhere and stopped by so many people's houses that some faces are beginning to blur in my mind. We had all types of fruits and food offered by our awesome hosts, so it wasn't like we were suffering, but we still had jetlag. Right now my eyes are drooping, and my thoughts are being incoherent, so I'll just post these pictures, then I'll sign off :)
Until next time :)
Man, it's only been a day or two, but I feel like my family and I have done so much since returning to Vietnam.
Mom woke us up in the morning, claiming it was 8 and that we were long overdue for breakfast! In reality, it was 6:30, but that lying witch wanted us to get up early! :) Well, it was alright; I was already awake at the time and for an hour, I was listening to the sound of busyness that was just outside my window. The roar of motorcycles cruising by and the honks of impatient vehicle drivers as they tried to navigate through a busy narrow alley in the morning had rudely awoken me
(I recorded the sound of the streets for you to hear, but it won't upload...check back later)
It felt...glorious to wake up and walk out into the sunbathed front porch of my mom's childhood home. With the light streaming through the leaves of towering coconut trees and the aroma of authentic food from street vendors, I felt so alive--even though it was still so early.
We had fresh eggs and warm loaves of bread and cups of strong Vietnamese coffee. After, instead of the 'typical' milk and orange juice drinks, we picked some coconuts off our tree and drank from them. My mom, craving pieces of her childhood memory, bought a bowl of bún sợi to for about 18,000 dong--less than a dollar! Now we're going to have some for tomorrow's breakfast.
The reason for waking up so early: my dad wanted to visit the grave site of his mother--my grandmother--who passed away last year. He was there to see her burial, but wanted to bring the family back to pay respects. We took a taxi from Nha Trang to the rural side of the town. It's astonishing; taxi drivers are so talented because they don't use addresses as their destinations--they just need a certain landmark. For example, my mom's house does not have an exact address, but the driver found it by the distinct coconut tree that's just outside the house.
My parents' memories are astounding! After ten years and ever-changing scenery, they are still able to find my relatives' homes spread around town. We dropped by a cafe owned by my dad's distant cousins and chatted for awhile. They ask the typical things--where's the oldest son? How's Dan doing? It's the typical Vietnamese thing to ask, as the oldest of the family, and especially if the oldest is male, is considered the most important. Then they are just so shocked to see my sister, and they spend the rest of the time remarking that she's 'so tall' for a Vietnamese girl. Next, they'd ask about Elizabeth and--that poor girl--has to just sit around and smile as something like Gibberish flows through one ear and out the other! Before they can even get to me, it's time to go! Luckily for me though, because I'm really getting tired of saying: "Yes, I am a sophomore in college...no, not in high school...yep, I know I still look like I'm 15...majoring in journalism, uh huh, yes I can speak and understand Vietnamese...what language have I been speaking for the last fucking 20 minutes?"
( The last bit I usually keep to myself.)
Yet, custom says I must be nice about everything, so I just nod and smile.
To get to my grandma's burial site we had to venture through the woods, past vast rice fields, dodge bushes full of torn and find the area for tombstones nestled at the foot of rocky hills.
When we arrived, I saw something that was familiar, yet not. Since arriving in Vietnam, Elizabeth has been noting a lot of swastika-like signs on numerous buildings. That puzzled me because I don't think Germany had ever touched the country; so, I did a bit of research and found that the swastika here is not a nod to the anti-Semitic behavior of the Nazis. Here is the symbol used during the German regime:
The ones we have been seeing look like this:
This is the symbol seen in religions like Hinduism and Buddhism and generally means something close to peace. I've seen this on many temples and tombstones. It's just sad that the Nazis had to use a symbol so close to something has the opposite meaning...
For the rest of the day, we literally walked around everywhere and stopped by so many people's houses that some faces are beginning to blur in my mind. We had all types of fruits and food offered by our awesome hosts, so it wasn't like we were suffering, but we still had jetlag. Right now my eyes are drooping, and my thoughts are being incoherent, so I'll just post these pictures, then I'll sign off :)
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| On our way to the grave site. Rice fields that stretch across the land |
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| Dad paying his respects... |
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| Cutting into a fresh Durian...smelly... |
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| Fresh peppers from backyard |
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| One of our relatives' houses. |
Monday, July 4, 2011
July 4th-Arrival
I can't quite begin to express my feelings about being back in Vietnam.
It was a tiring journey from Hartford, Conn. to Chicago to Tokyo, but I felt like the last bit of the trip (from Tokyo to Vietnam) was excruciatingly so. We took a van from Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) to Nha Trang, so the time in general was eight hours. When we landed, we met the heat--the familiar, smothering and sweaty temperature of Vietnam. We were the ones dying while the natives acted like the weather was 50 degrees! And once again, as expected, I felt surrounded by the familiar and the foreign. The language--mixes of beautiful tones and dialects--sounded like home, but then I saw the faces of people who were speaking it, and I was instantly brought back to reality. I knew that if I talked, I would be recognized as a foreigner. People can sense it; even if you speak the language, doesn't mean you are a native, exactly. I felt like I didn't belong then. I know I have to get over this invisible barrier if I wish to truly embrace my family's culture and--most resolutely--my culture.
(At this point of the trip, I was writing down my thoughts in a notebook)
Right now, we are on the roads. I wouldn't exactly say highways because the ones in America seem isolated so that all you can really see are trees and highway signs. The 'highways' here are consider main roads that connect one small town to larger cities. We started the ride at midnight in Vietnam time and at this point had just passed five hours. Even at one in the morning people were out and about, braving the dark in order to earn some money selling fruit and a hodgepodge of items. We had stopped at a fruit market, and it was disgustingly dirty; the floor was littered with scraps of previous fruits and the air reeked of urine--maybe because of the open bathrooms nearby.
It wasn't the exact environment that I thought Elizabeth would be exposed to first, but she seemed fine after she had a taste of the fruits being sold! Everything was so delicious. The three of us were trying to decide how to explain the taste of fruits like mangosteen, but we couldn't compare it to anything else. That's another struggle of this blog for me because I want whatever readers to be able to understand the things we see!
Our driver is the older brother of one of our family friends and he drives like a maniac--but in a good way (?) He's fast with his driving, but still careful not to hit other cars or pedestrians. Every time we pass a motorcycle, he'd honk to let them know.
I couldn't sleep at all because I was too mystified by the culture of Vietnam that is apparent even at night. I remember sitting in my corner of the car, glancing at my mom's face as she tries to recognize a bit of land here and there, but she can't. So much has changed. I was constantly hit with a sense of anxiousness. Sometimes, we'd pass by small villages that are just so poor and in those moments, I feel lucky with the circumstances that my family lives in. Some of the schools we saw were shambles of what they used to be. Extravagant homes would be seen, but its grandeur decor completely overshadowed by the abundance of shacks that sit in front.
The landscape of Vietnam is evidently diverse and beautiful. I never realized it before. One moment, you can see vast green spaces of blooming rice fields and water that is the deepest blue you've ever seen. The next, you can see a desert with cacti and strangely beautiful but out-of-place flowers. Coconut trees, banana trees and dragon fruit trees are not absent, let me tell you.
Marking the country's move for industrialization, many green landscapes are being turned into commercial properties, like salt factories and automobile dealerships. I spotted a few windmills, but only one seemed to be turning. Rice fields are getting destroyed, so that upscale resorts can be put into place.
Cool things: Coconut trees are as tall as three-story buildings. Random 'resting' places where people can literally stop and chill in a hammock hanging between two coconut trees. Cheap but delicious food; my mom bought pounds of mangosteen and the total was equivalent to less than a US dollar. To buy it in the US, it's like ten dollars per pound.
Not-so-cool things: Bathrooms are disgusting, so I'm worried about the sanitary conditions. Should I embrace the conditions in order to accept the culture? I don't know if my immune system and gag reflexes can take it. Roads are horrendous; traffic is perilous. As I am writing this, the van had just regained balance after almost falling over; the driver successfully avoided a large truck whose driver seems to be completely blind...
(We have arrived in Nha Trang, but I will post more about the house soon)
It was a tiring journey from Hartford, Conn. to Chicago to Tokyo, but I felt like the last bit of the trip (from Tokyo to Vietnam) was excruciatingly so. We took a van from Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) to Nha Trang, so the time in general was eight hours. When we landed, we met the heat--the familiar, smothering and sweaty temperature of Vietnam. We were the ones dying while the natives acted like the weather was 50 degrees! And once again, as expected, I felt surrounded by the familiar and the foreign. The language--mixes of beautiful tones and dialects--sounded like home, but then I saw the faces of people who were speaking it, and I was instantly brought back to reality. I knew that if I talked, I would be recognized as a foreigner. People can sense it; even if you speak the language, doesn't mean you are a native, exactly. I felt like I didn't belong then. I know I have to get over this invisible barrier if I wish to truly embrace my family's culture and--most resolutely--my culture.
(At this point of the trip, I was writing down my thoughts in a notebook)
Right now, we are on the roads. I wouldn't exactly say highways because the ones in America seem isolated so that all you can really see are trees and highway signs. The 'highways' here are consider main roads that connect one small town to larger cities. We started the ride at midnight in Vietnam time and at this point had just passed five hours. Even at one in the morning people were out and about, braving the dark in order to earn some money selling fruit and a hodgepodge of items. We had stopped at a fruit market, and it was disgustingly dirty; the floor was littered with scraps of previous fruits and the air reeked of urine--maybe because of the open bathrooms nearby.
It wasn't the exact environment that I thought Elizabeth would be exposed to first, but she seemed fine after she had a taste of the fruits being sold! Everything was so delicious. The three of us were trying to decide how to explain the taste of fruits like mangosteen, but we couldn't compare it to anything else. That's another struggle of this blog for me because I want whatever readers to be able to understand the things we see!
Our driver is the older brother of one of our family friends and he drives like a maniac--but in a good way (?) He's fast with his driving, but still careful not to hit other cars or pedestrians. Every time we pass a motorcycle, he'd honk to let them know.
I couldn't sleep at all because I was too mystified by the culture of Vietnam that is apparent even at night. I remember sitting in my corner of the car, glancing at my mom's face as she tries to recognize a bit of land here and there, but she can't. So much has changed. I was constantly hit with a sense of anxiousness. Sometimes, we'd pass by small villages that are just so poor and in those moments, I feel lucky with the circumstances that my family lives in. Some of the schools we saw were shambles of what they used to be. Extravagant homes would be seen, but its grandeur decor completely overshadowed by the abundance of shacks that sit in front.
 |
| Sun rising soon... |
The landscape of Vietnam is evidently diverse and beautiful. I never realized it before. One moment, you can see vast green spaces of blooming rice fields and water that is the deepest blue you've ever seen. The next, you can see a desert with cacti and strangely beautiful but out-of-place flowers. Coconut trees, banana trees and dragon fruit trees are not absent, let me tell you.
 |
| Coconut trees! |
Marking the country's move for industrialization, many green landscapes are being turned into commercial properties, like salt factories and automobile dealerships. I spotted a few windmills, but only one seemed to be turning. Rice fields are getting destroyed, so that upscale resorts can be put into place.
Cool things: Coconut trees are as tall as three-story buildings. Random 'resting' places where people can literally stop and chill in a hammock hanging between two coconut trees. Cheap but delicious food; my mom bought pounds of mangosteen and the total was equivalent to less than a US dollar. To buy it in the US, it's like ten dollars per pound.
Not-so-cool things: Bathrooms are disgusting, so I'm worried about the sanitary conditions. Should I embrace the conditions in order to accept the culture? I don't know if my immune system and gag reflexes can take it. Roads are horrendous; traffic is perilous. As I am writing this, the van had just regained balance after almost falling over; the driver successfully avoided a large truck whose driver seems to be completely blind...
(We have arrived in Nha Trang, but I will post more about the house soon)
Saturday, July 2, 2011
i'm on the move
It is now 6:21. Woke up at 5:30 to get ready. Some Dunkin' Donuts. 7:00 is departure. Flight is at 10:45. Lehgo.
Friday, July 1, 2011
song to put me in the right mood
For sleeping on the airplane:
"Poison and Wine" by The Civil Wars
"My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion
"Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden
"Passage into Midnight" by Omar Akram
"Gravity" by Sara Bareilles
"I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith
(My parents used to play this and Celine Dion's song and my brother, sister, and I would fall right asleep!)
For when I get restless:
"New Drug" by Thousand Foot Krutch
"Sick" by Adelitas Way
"Last Resort" by Papa Roach
"Given Up" by Linkin Park
"Fire It Up" by Thousand Foot Krutch
For the beach: "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson
"Lazy Song" by Bruno Mars
"Come Get Some" by Rooster
"All the Pretty Girls" by Fun
"Keep Your Head Up" Andy Grammer
(And I realize now that I don't have many 'beachy'/happy songs...)
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