-^-for posterity-^-

every day at 11:15 we go and eat at ms. nga’s house. it’s a small house at the end of the old guest house. the old guest house is an assortment of small apartments surrounded by high grass and jungle. ms. nga always wears pants and shirts made from the same printed fabric: either geometric shapes or tall, long stripes. her hair is cropped close to her ears and she exudes energy. she’s quite an attractive middle aged women.

lunch is served in the midst of a group of old, guest professors that the college invites to teach here. they come from all over vietnam and are here to teach a number of courses. they like to either practice their english on us or talk about us in vietnamese. me and jack like to talk in spanish. we talk about the other professors and how sick of fried fish we are.

fried fish, fried fish and more fish. every day it’s another variety of fried fish. it’s always devoid of its head and that makes it much easier to eat. it’s greasy and spicy and we always have problems picking the carcass free from bones. no one else seems to have the same problem. we eat the fish in a bowl of white rice. it’s moist and bland as is most good white rice. it’s a blank template for the cook to paint whatever flavor she chooses.

ms. nga’s husband is a man with a tall forehead. he has a small belly and wears his pants high. his eyes are caring and his glasses are thick and flat. they seem like distinctly different people.

ms. nga has a tall, thin son. he speaks wonderful english. his hair is frilly and he always rolls his eyes to the right when he’s thinking. he picked up his english from the wide variety of guests that the college has hosted.

i’m sure i’ll eat more and more fried fish as ms. nga’s house. i’m sure i’ll see her husband again and wonder how the marriage came to be. i’m sure i’ll see her son and be impressed with his english. just another group of people in the new cast of characters that’s become my life here.