-^-for posterity-^-

long xuyen is a small, rural city. it's home to a couple hundred thousand vietnamese people and two americans. the center of town is blessed with a large light tower covered with hundreds of white globes. it is turned on at dusk and some of the lights have quit working. the light tower stands in the center of a traffic circle. bicycles and motorcycles circle below.

there is a large, stone cathedral set off a bit in the distance. it's grey, hard cross looks down on the city below. it can be seen from most anywhere and is by far the tallest structure. the building looks cold and more threatening than inviting.

jack and i normally ride out bicycles around town. his bicycle is shorter and rigid. he sits very straight when he rides it and it's fashioned with a large, black basket in the front. my bicycle is an old mountain bike who's handlebars are crooked. i ride it hunched over and have a hard time feeling comfortable. it's also red and black. when we ride around people stare at us. children scream, "hello!" at us as we pass. teenage boys all laugh at us and slow down to take a good look. old women give us cold, blank stares. one time, when jack was stopped at a stoplight a boy hopped on the back of his bicycle and he had to shoo him away.

today we had one of my tires fixed at the local bike shop. there are about a hundred local bike shops littered all over this great metropolis all equipped with air compressors, a bucket full of wrenches and a tub full of water designed to help find the holes in a leaking tire. the mechanic wears what i would call shower-shoes and was born with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. while we were waiting a small boy approached us. he wore a small, pink, sleeveless shirt and looked mischievous. he couldn't have been more than thirty pounds.

he asked jack what his name was. he ran away. he came back and asked me what my name was; ran away. he turned out to be relaying messages about us to a group of older girls. he came back and asked jack how old he was. jack said, "twenty-three." the boy turned around and made a two and a three with his fingers. his face was very serious and so were the faces of the on looking children. he asked me how old i was. i told him and he quickly turned around to tell everyone else. he finally came up to jack and asked him if he was fine. jack said he was and the boy relayed the message. guessing that i was fine too, he turned away. i guess we had either satisfied their curiosity or they had simply run out of english questions.

that is only one of a hundred similar stories. it's impossible to describe what it feels like to walk down the streets here. imagine a small road covered with loose, grey gravel. the sides are full of countless people and hundreds of small food carts. me and jack are the only people here who are not vietnamese. eyes pierce us from all sides. you can feel them on the back of your neck. they're not malicious, they're curious.

imagine not being able to leave your home anonymously.

it's incredibly uncomfortable to be stared at so much. you try to keep your head up and do your best to ignore them but it's unrelenting. it saps your energy and makes you long for home. the stares have been abating recently.