happy new year.

here is a happy new year message i received on my phone last night: "HAPPY NEW YEAR! BUSY IN WORK! FUNNY IN LIFE! LUCKY IN GAME! CRAZY IN LOVE! STRONGLY IN BED AND MONEY IN POCKET! NEVER SAD, ALWAYS FUN!"

i wish the same to all of you.

christmas in long xuyen was, well, lackluster.

eric and i sat around all day and did very little. i worked on some of my projects, even though it was saturday and even though it was christmas. i guess the worst part of the holiday was that my email inbox dried up almost completely.

the world is preparing for the lunar new year celebration. the flower market is being built back up again along the bank of the river. people are finishing up with their work before the holidays arrive, as things tend to get busy before there is a break. pepsi, and this i find fascinating, decided to ditch their trademark blue boxes in favor of red boxes that look quite like coca-cola boxes. we all know that red is quite a lucky color over the holidays.

in one week, rachel lee swartzendruber will come out to visit me. we will spend time in ho chi minh city and then down in the delta. it promises to be a wonderful time and i am excited beyond anything i could possibly describe. before she comes, however, i am obliged to finish writing my book. i am now sitting at my computer from sunrise to well into the evening trying to translate the vietnamese sections into english. my fingers hurt from typing. my eyes hurt from straining. this is the reason that i have not been writing anything of substance.

blessings to all this holiday season and have a wonderful new year.

IV Tet

One day that is extremely important for Vietnamese people is the Lunar New Year. Most Americans would recognize the Vietnamese word for the holiday, ‘Tet’, because of the famous uprising throughout the South in 1968.

There, however, is quite a difference from the way I understood ‘Tet’ before I came to Vietnam and how I understood the word after words. In American I didn’t understand the customs of this very important holiday. My first ‘Tet’ experience happened at the beginning of 2003 which I had been in Vietnam for about four months and before I had many friends. At school, one person told me that during ‘Tet’ everyone stays at home.

Americans who visit Vietnam always notice how packed the streets are and possibly can’t imagine a day when everyone is at home. Maybe my friend meant to say, ‘Many people stay at home.’ I guessed wrong.

The first day of Tet, 2003, the year of the Goat, I woke up early. At about 8 o’clock in the morning I went out to try to find something to eat but was greeted with a surprise. Vietnamese flags were posted all over the sides of the roads but no one was there. It even appeared like the myriad dogs that usually passed back and forth searching for food had even found homes. No people, no animals but a plethora of flags. I was hungry but I didn’t know what to do, surprised by the absence of people and traffic.

It’s hard to imagine the Vietnamese streets as silent as they are during the Lunar New year celebrations. I had to pedal my bicycle quite far just to find a place to eat. My first ‘Tet’ experience was seeing that empty road and no food.

The 2004 celebrations, the year of the Monkey, were quite different. At that time I had made friends with many people and many of those people invited me over to their house to eat with their families. I was really excited to experience ‘Tet’ with a family because I had heard so much about this day but didn’t at all understand it.

The last day of the 2003 lunar year was a very special day for me. I ate with my friend’s family and was given a new Vietnamese name. I am now named H? Minh Trí and I truly felt like a member of the family. I felt lucky to have two families: one in America and one in Vietnam. They even considered me their son.

That night we sat down and ate a delicious meal. My friend told me that if I wished my new parents good health, happiness and the like I would experience another Vietnamese custom. I walked up to them and wished that everything went their way in the year of the Monkey. After that, I was given a red envelope with lucky money in it. I was quite content with my new family. They allowed me to experience ‘Tet’ not like a foreigner who was staying and leaving but as a true member of the family.

After we had eaten the year of the Monkey was almost upon us. We went and prayed to the family’s ancestors at the alter of the house and then went to the local pagoda to wish all of our friends and neighbors a happy new year.

Following my experiences of the Lunar New year, I believe that society as a whole implodes and everyone spends time with their most important relationship. The first day is for only the most important people in your life, your parents. You have to wish them health and happiness because they gave you life, you have to give thanks to your ancestors because; ‘To drink the water is to remember the source’.

However, before everything implodes, everyone has to wish all of their friends a happy new year. It’s almost like people are saying, ‘I’m about to go home for about three or four days and we won’t have a chance to meet. Have a good ‘Tet’.’

After we prayed at the pagoda and wished our friends happiness, I went home and slept the first night of the New Year. ‘Tet’ doesn’t really begin until the first day of the Lunar New year. The last day of the last year is the day that everyone will wish everyone else health and happiness before they spend time with their family and other people very important to their lives.

The first day of the New Year is a day for the family and also one custom I really enjoy called ‘Ng??i xông ??t’. This phrase is used to describe the first person to enter your home who isn’t a member of your family after the New Year begins. Depending on their social status or personal life, the following year will be lucky or it will be bad. In America we don’t have a concept like this and I was quite afraid to be the first person to enter the house of a stranger. That’s one of the reasons that my friend’s family gave me a new name, so I could eat with them and I wouldn’t be considered to be breaking any of the rules.

I spoke with a bunch of people and always ask them if they really believe in that custom. Most say that only a few people in the family follow that custom but it really isn’t everyone.

The first day of ‘Tet’ I didn’t know what to do but I also didn’t want to go out and visit friends because I didn’t want to be the first stranger to enter the house after the new year arrived if that family had wanted someone else to come.

Before I experienced ‘Tet’, I had asked my friend this question, ‘If everyone is at home, what do they end up doing?’ My friend said that most of the time is spent eating together. It was hard to imagine spending a whole day simply at home without going out at all.

I woke up a little late and ate with my new family. We sat around and ate a wonderful meal and talked about life, desires and the future. One full day of doing nothing except talking about life with people who are the closest to you in your life is very special because our modern lives are so busy and they rarely afford us an opportunity like that. If there wasn’t the ‘Ng??i xông ??t’ rule and if people didn’t spend so much time at home, the ‘Tet’ holiday just wouldn’t be the same. We need to talk in order to understand each other better.

The second day of the Lunar New year is when every family goes and visits the ancestral homeland. We went and spoke to other members of the family who were also making the trip.

In America we don’t have anything that is similar to the Lunar New year in Vietnam. We have Christmas and that day is very important for many Americans but not for everyone. Christmas is also a day for family but it isn’t as important, or doesn’t last as long as the Lunar New year. Also, if you want to spend time with friends on Christmas after your family as been together, it isn’t really a problem.

Thanksgiving is also an important day for many families because it isn’t necessarily religious. Most Americans spend time together over Thanksgiving but it still isn’t the same as the Lunar New year. Thanksgiving is only one day and there are not the 10 days to travel around and meet people as there are in the Lunar New year celebrations of Vietnam.

The Lunar New year celebrations are extremely important for the people of Vietnam. While everyone has their separate lives on a normal day, when ‘Tet’ rolls around each family comes together and celebrates themselves. It’s just as if society implodes and everyone spends time with their most important relatives on the same day. The Lunar New year begins at the beginning of the month and stretches until the end of January. After spending time with your family, you move out and meet other families until all of Vietnam is reunited through familial ties and normal life can begin again.

the holiday season is fast approaching and life here continues to plod along. there is no magic in the air, no consumerism and no family.

when i was young, the holidays were always such a wonderful time. there was so much anticipation surrounding christmas eve and christmas day. i used to sit on the counter of my home with my mother and bake cookies and any other goodie that would fatten us up for a long hard winter of sitting in heated homes.

we used to make fred's spread. it was basically ketchup with pepper. you would eat it with cream cheese on a triscut. what were we thinking?

so, this year, our plans are pretty simple. everyone here is leaving for home except for eric and i. a lot has happened since i was not able to post. we now have a total of 9 foreigners living here (and one more on the way). the newest member is mr. r. eric burdette. he is a fellow bluffton grad and is my mcc colleague. he's a wonderful person and we get along very well. we will stay here for christmas with the dog. we will have rice for christmas and will sit around at night and talk about how wonderful things were when we were children. we will live in the past for those few hours.

thanksgiving was wonderful this year. the foreigners that just arrived were fairly dedicated and organized an entire thanksgiving with stuffing and all. quite an accomplishment when you think about living in a place with no ovens.

vietnam is still wonderful. the view out my window has changed little. the trees have grown and the fish pond across the way has lost some of its water due to the dry season. other than that, we still have little children running about and screaming at the top of their lungs every morning at about 630 and the roads are still crowded with traffic. life is beautiful, but i live in a future world when i will return home to those i truly love.

the holiday season is fast approaching and life here continues to plod along. there is no magic in the air, no consumerism and no family.

when i was young, the holidays were always such a wonderful time. there was so much anticipation surrounding christmas eve and christmas day. i used to sit on the counter of my home with my mother and bake cookies and any other goodie that would fatten us up for a long hard winter of sitting in heated homes.

we used to make fred's spread. it was basically ketchup with pepper. you would eat it with cream cheese on a triscut. what were we thinking?

so, this year, our plans are pretty simple. everyone here is leaving for home except for eric and i. a lot has happened since i was not able to post. we now have a total of 9 foreigners living here (and one more on the way). the newest member is mr. r. eric burdette. he is a fellow bluffton grad and is my mcc colleague. he's a wonderful person and we get along very well. we will stay here for christmas with the dog. we will have rice for christmas and will sit around at night and talk about how wonderful things were when we were children. we will live in the past for those few hours.

thanksgiving was wonderful this year. the foreigners that just arrived were fairly dedicated and organized an entire thanksgiving with stuffing and all. quite an accomplishment when you think about living in a place with no ovens.

vietnam is still wonderful. the view out my window has changed little. the trees have grown and the fish pond across the way has lost some of its water due to the dry season. other than that, we still have little children running about and screaming at the top of their lungs every morning at about 630 and the roads are still crowded with traffic. life is beautiful, but i live in a future world when i will return home to those i truly love.

yes, that is a mullet.


ho-ho-jota.
me and jota getting ready for the holidays.

hello all.

it has been ages since i have last posted and that is because my blog was hijacked for a bit. i would log in and was routed to another page.

life here is quite normal. the semester has ended and we are all waiting for the final exams to be administered. i have been spending all of my days finishing the book. the vietnamese section is almost finished and we will attempt to finish the english section before january.

this holiday season will be quiet. this is the fourth time in the past five years that i will not be home for christmas and that pains me. i will spend the holiday at home with the dog and eric, the new mcc vol.

eric came the other day and it's wonderful to have another familiar face here. he's getting adjusted and will do brilliant work.

well, i will post tomorrow about life in long xuyen once again. this involuntary hiatus has ended and the blogging must continue.

i hope everyone is well.

it has been a while since i last posted about the hurricane.

after my last post i went outside with the dog to run. a storm front was visible to the south east. normally weather patterns move from the west to the east but this weather pattern was moving very quickly from the east to the west. it looked to be a ways off so we mounted the motorcycle (the dog sits between my legs with his paws on the handlebars) and were off to our normal patch of road to go running.

by the time we reached the road, a black cloud approached from the east. it was moving at an incredible rate of speed and the wind was ferocious. the road is lined with giant stands of grass, about 8 feet high, and they were all plastered down to the ground under the force of the wind.

it began to rain as we ran. it rained and howled and the dog was miserable and confused. the wind would pelt us in one direction and would blow at our backs as we ran in the other. it was incredible. the sky darkened and i was running with my dog in a tropical storm or whatever you would like to call it.

we didn’t run for as long as we normally run and we quickly returned to the motorcycle and drove home in the rain. the dog was shaking because he was cold and i was just trying to drive straight.

the storm has since passed and we were just exposed to the northern most edge. i’ve heard that provinces to the south of us suffered from some damage. i should be glad to be living in an giang. one of my colleagues at work noted that, ‘an giang is the perfect place to live. storms always end up hurting everyone else, not us.’

i walked outside of the guesthouse to head off to a meeting one afternoon when a dog walked up to me. he was a black dog (cho muc in vietnamese meaning ‘ink dog’ or ‘squid dog’) and he walked as if his back and his front were connected not with bone but with skin, tendons and a digestive tract.

he walked up to me and his tail began to wag. it was a long tail, about half as long as my new, semi-handicapped dog friend, and it seemed to control the direction his back half headed in. as he approached me, he didn’t seem to be quite like any of the other dogs i have seen roaming around these parts. most dogs that roam the busy roads and pathways around these parts are gnarled and wise. this dog was clean and young and wore a handsome, red collar.

he came right up to me and smelled my feet, something no random dog would do, and began to nibble on my pants. i, being a person who is not easily amused by puppies or babies or flowers, was rather annoyed. i was about to walk away when a person walked around the corner and explained to me that this was, in fact, his dog.

it turns out the dog is named ‘jonathan’. i have a coal black dog that can not properly walk named after me. this is the third dog that has been named after me since i have arrived in vietnam.

i was then told the story of how jonathan first learned how to walk. evidently, this poor dog was not able to walk for the first few months of his life and would, ‘swim,’ around the house on his belly. there was some concern that jonathan would never be able to walk and people had given up hope. one vet decided the reason jonathan was not walking was because he was inside and he simply needed to feel the dirt between his toes to get up and get going. he was taken outside where he continued to swim around on his belly in the mud.

then, as if through the divine intervention of some heavenly figure and the mud, the dog stood up and began to bound around. jonathan was healed. jonathan could walk.

a common question asked of me around these parts is, ‘how do you feel?’ it’s a direct translation of a vietnamese phrase which i would more correctly translate as, ‘what do you think about…?’ if i was to be asked what do i think about having a semi-handicapped dog named after me, i would not know how to respond. the macabre nature of the situation causes me to tilt my head a bit to the right and grin.

i was teaching in the library today when i picked up the paper. there was a graph in the bottom right corner of a hurricane heading in this direction. there was the ‘projected path’ of said storm and it seemed to cross about 60 km south of my home town at 6:00 this evening.

i stopped and looked at the picture for a while and went back to check my vietnamese. yes, everything was correct, there was a hurricane heading this direction. i went over to some staff and asked if this was correct. they shrugged and said it might be. i have talked to people about this all day. people seem quite collected about the whole event, though, on the weather map there was a giant swirl of clouds heading towards the mekong delta. the cloud mass was about the size of the mekong itself.

some people told me stories of a giant storm in 2000, or an even bigger one in 1997. some people say it could be that big.

other people don’t seem to be bothered at all by the news and continue with their lives. it is currently 4:45 and the cloud is peaceful, though there is quite a wind churning up. this may amount to nothing but i have never experienced a hurricane before.

tomorrow is teacher's day in vietnam and everything is becoming festive. the past few days people have been hauling giant lights and speakers onto campus for the celebration tomorrow morning. everything is exciting now.

people are walking around the offices with bouquets of flowers. the women of the office are all wearing the flowing ao dai dresses that are made of reams and reams of shiny cloth that flow around the ankles befuddling the mind.

tomorrow we, as teachers, will sit in the middle of our main courtyard and will listen to teachers. the students will surround us on small, plastic chairs. we will then be given flowers and pictures will be taken. last year i was interviewed on television and was too nervous to make much sense. this year, if the occurrence is repeated, i will be much more prepared.

tomorrow is a celebration of teachers and teaching. i would like to thank all of my teachers, those who have allowed me to further my understanding of the world by positing questions that make me actually think for myself.

when the day is long, one must take a break and drink something cold and sweet. when i get tired and a bit run down, i step outside with my normal group of friends. we walk out of the school gates and into our newest hole-in-the wall coffee shop.

it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.

i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.

i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.

i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.

i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.

when the day is long, one must take a break and drink something cold and sweet. when i get tired and a bit run down, i step outside with my normal group of friends. we walk out of the school gates and into our newest hole-in-the wall coffee shop.

it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.

i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.

i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.

i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.

i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.

the dry season has returned and it returns very subtly. at the beginning and end of the rainy season the sky opens up sporadically. at one point in the day the clouds will begin and one will be able to pick out a large, black, ominous looking beast hovering on the horizon. that cloud will make its way over our humble city and it will drench us for about 15 minutes. that is the beginning and end of the rainy season.

the middle is different. that cloud will cover the whole horizon and the storm will last for days.

i declare the rainy season to be over because it hasn't rained in a couple of days. normally it rains just about now, the end of the work day. the sky will grey and the lights on the motorcycles will all turn on. it's eerie how silent it feels with no more rain. i look on the rain with some nostalgia, some longing. now there will be the dust and the heat of the dry season. the dust will come in roaming gangs pulled by the wind in brown waves across the street. i will shower and it will pour off of me clog the drain.

no more flooded fields, no more rain, no more of that feeling, the same feeling you get in a horrible blizzard, of being trapped in a building because of a natural occurrence. no more of that excitement that builds up in your stomach as you stand at the front door to the university with other teachers talking about when the storm will end and whether or not we should just head out into the downpour. now there is only dull, clear skies.

i spend my days explaining what happened in america a little less than a week ago. people are very curious why things turned out the way they did.

people ask me questions about what the american population is like, what they want. i, at this point, do not necessarily know how to respond.

one of the first criticisms of americans that i heard upon coming here was that we were an aggressive race, that we needed a leader who would be strong and would make war. i confronted this stereotype and talked about the hundreds of americans i knew who did not want to make war, who also knew peace. this eventually seemed to pass. now, i don't know what to say. i'm at a loss and wander back and forth in front of a classroom that doesn't seem to understand what my constant pacing means.

i continue and plod on. i have been away from america four of the last seven years and i may have simply lost touch with what the people of my country feel and think. i may have lost touch with what people want in a leader, what people need. i may not be able to see that a leader who hubristically invades and speaks of no failure may be what people back home want. i may not realize that a leader that claims to have no moral failing, though some may be evident, is truly what is right for my homeland.

is it also right for the world? does that matter?

am i wrong in seeing this as parallel to what happened in the mid 60's?

if you read this before you vote today, and you happen to think wistfully of me while you're in that voting booth, please remember that a vote for the man whose last name begins with the letter 'k' and ends with the letter 'y' would actually make my life a whole lot easier.

it's selfish of me to say this.

i know both of them are flawed but that's not the point. it's all about perception. it's all about perception.

it's all about perception.

it's
all
about
perception.

i take the dog for runs now. he’s been feeling a bit pent up and needs to get out and about.

first there was the problem of finding a place to run. people are simply everywhere and we didn’t think we could actually find a place where he could run without being constantly bothered by other dogs and children. eventually we found the perfect solution. we are going to be building on 40 hectares of land just about one half of a mile from the university and the roads have already been paved. there is one giant boulevard that stretches for at least one half of a mile. it is surrounded by tall grass and nothing else. they have even installed lights to let us run at night.

the second problem is actually getting there. jota, the dog, is about two and a half feet long at this point at least one foot tall. he is thick, not fat, but heavy. he would have to ride on my motorcycle and that is simply a problem when there is only one person.

we solved this by training him to sit on the gas tank. he sits just in front of my legs with his little paws on the handle-bars. we have had only one run in and that was when a dog actually started to chase us and jota decided he would bark at him and he turned and almost fell off but i caught him and sped away. we normally arrive in good spirits. he is a little anxious on the way out, but normally he doesn’t do anything stupid.

we leave the bike and begin running. i try to walk at first but he has just too much energy and pulls me until i begin to run. he then spends the next five minutes pulling me along. it’s actually quite awkward to run while someone is pulling on your right hand. for me, running symmetrically always felt a little better than trying not to be pulled sideways.

after those first five minutes are over, he tires out. he spends the next 10 or 15 minutes running beside me.

after those relatively bland minutes are over, he tires out completely. he spends the next five minutes or so running behind me trying to slow me down. at the end of my runs i always do sprints and he is always dead last. i have to cheer him on the whole time and he just doesn't see the point after all the running we had done up to that point.

at the end of the run he is plum tuckered out. he walks over to the motorcycle and puts his two front paws up on the seat; this is my signal to pick him up because he wants to go home. he sits quietly for the ride home.

at home he walks in circles around the room apparently lost. he drinks only a bit of water and smiles. i never thought it was possible to see a dog smile but he simply sits down on the cool tiles, looks at me and smiles. he does this until he is too tired and then sleeps.

he loves to run and, while it’s a debacle, it’s also a lot of fun to see him get some exercise.

the soil is fertile. it is possibly the most fertile soil i have ever experienced. things grow in this earth like time speeds up exponentially. things grow here and you can see them if you squint and turn your head sideways.

outside of the guesthouse there used to be rows of palm trees that were freshly planted. when we arrived, they were only about as high as our chest and they have since grown mightily. their growth, however, has been steadily surpassed by the large trees that now tower of them and reach the roof of the two story building.

to watch a tree grow two stories high in one year is quite amazing. every once in a while the gardeners make their way to the guesthouse and clean out all of the undergrowth, the fines and weeds and what not. they clear a space about the size of my driveway, fairly modest, in a couple of days, pile all of the growth up on the sidewalk and have a nice fire. they cleaned out the trees the other day. they cleaned out the ones they didn't want to make room for the other growth.

there are now four giant trees that are spread randomly around the guesthouse that grow up to the roof. from their branches one can pick a certain kind of fruit that is about the diameter of my thumb which tastes a bit fruity but has the texture of a cherry tomato. if you can pick fruit from your balcony you are truly living somewhere wonderful.

the palm trees continue to grow, though some have been removed to make more space, but these giant trees have taken a life of their own. i wonder how large they will grow, when they will take over the guesthouse and we will live in neat little tree huts at the top of the city's canopy sipping coconuts and eating these tiny berries that grow by the bushel.

and, for all of you who are interested, my prediction for how the election will turn out can be found HERE

today i was privileged enough to travel with a group of friends to a wetland preserve. this actual piece of land was like no other i have encountered in vietnam. it was pristine and there were no people.

this land preservation began in 1978 and is still not generally open to the public. they will begin to turn this in to some sort of an eco-tourist spot in the near future and i was fully impressed.

the day began early as we loaded into a van for the hour and 20 minute ride into the countryside. it is currently the flooding season which means that all of the fields to the left and right of the roads are completely inundated by water. the road is built about one meter above ground level and it feels like you’re driving on a giant bridge surrounded by small island houses. people move around on small boats. dogs stay inside. birds fly from tree to tree.

the ubiquitous canals that streak across the mekong all become invisible. one can only guess at their position as large boats follow a distinct pattern. the line separating the shores and the fields is impossible to distinguish.

we arrived at our nature preserve after driving for five minutes over a one lane dirt road built quite high above the water. we drove over two thin bridges, one of which had a sign that said no cars, and eventually stopped at the wetland preserve’s head office.

we soon piled into small boats propelled by large engines and were off through the flooded fields.

i have never seen water so clear in all of vietnam. the normal color for water traveling up and down the river is a dull brown but this water glistened. it was clear but silver. it was like crystal mercury. it lapped at the sides of the boat and you could see all the way down to the bottom, to the beginnings of the moss and lily pads that danced on the surface. it felt less like we were floating on water and more like we were floating on air.

after a bit of a trek the driver of the boat cut the engine and pulled for his oar. he paddled for a bit and lead us through a narrow cluster of trees. we finally turned a corner and saw what we had come to see. the trees sagged under the weight of thousands of giant, black beings. they hung upside-down and looked like black flower buds. as we came closer, they began to rustle. wings moved and bodies twitched. finally, one took to the air.

we had come to the edge of their home and stopped. we looked up at the sky as the trees erupted in activity. these black and brown bats were swooping all around us. they were gigantic. these were not your stereotypical bats that zip around caves but these were lumbering, flying foxes. they flew above our heads and we could see the sunlight through their translucent wings. their arms grew into those wings and the movement they used to propel themselves was disturbingly human. it looked like a crippled old man with rubber wings trying to stay afloat. they took giant swats at the sky.

we estimated that the wingspan of the bats was about three feet long. the sky was black with them as, according to the park ranger, there were about 1,500 of them all around. they all circled, counterclockwise. it was honestly one of the strangest things i have ever seen. sitting on a boat above perfectly hypnotic water and watching giant bats, looking all the mammal they should, flap above us as a hitchcock-like hurricane.

the rest of the day was spent traveling around the preserve and admiring all of the nature, the pure beauty. we left for home and slept in the van. it was a beautiful day. nature has a way of making me feel just like an animal, both good and bad.

i was thinking about my former self. i mean, i was thinking about the person that i was about a year ago. for some reason i was remembering a time when i went on a trip and i spoke vietnamese to some people and it was bad but alright. i realized that, if i had met myself today back then, something that's obviously impossible for a number of reasons (i would recognize myself for one!), i would have been frustrated to meet me. i would not have liked to meet someone who knew more about the language or the culture. i don't know why, but it bothered me. i would have been angry at my future self simply they were more successful.

i wonder that it'll be like to look back at myself right now a few years from now. will it be the same? will i realize that this self would be jealous of my future self? what does that say about me? does it mean i'm a trite little man that's so insecure with himself he doesn't quite know what to do? what does that really say about me?

today is just like most other days and i must apologize for not writing much and when i do write it doesn't tend to focus on vietnam. writing this book has removed some of the energy i used to rely on. applying to grad schools has done the same. it seems like everything has just piled up on me once again. i thought last semester would be the last time things really piled up on me but that was not the case. i can only hope that this is not habitual and is only a result of my circumstance.

blessings to you all. i still burn incense and pray for peace and promise to work for righteousness. i don't know if that'll ever stop.

i was thinking about my former self. i mean, i was thinking about the person that i was about a year ago. for some reason i was remembering a time when i went on a trip and i spoke vietnamese to some people and it was bad but alright. i realized that, if i had met myself today back then, something that's obviously impossible for a number of reasons (i would recognize myself for one!), i would have been frustrated to meet me. i would not have liked to meet someone who knew more about the language or the culture. i don't know why, but it bothered me. i would have been angry at my future self simply they were more successful.

i wonder that it'll be like to look back at myself right now a few years from now. will it be the same? will i realize that this self would be jealous of my future self? what does that say about me? does it mean i'm a trite little man that's so insecure with himself he doesn't quite know what to do? what does that really say about me?

today is just like most other days and i must apologize for not writing much and when i do write it doesn't tend to focus on vietnam. writing this book has removed some of the energy i used to rely on. applying to grad schools has done the same. it seems like everything has just piled up on me once again. i thought last semester would be the last time things really piled up on me but that was not the case. i can only hope that this is not habitual and is only a result of my circumstance.

blessings to you all. i still burn incense and pray for peace and promise to work for righteousness. i don't know if that'll ever stop.

the football season is firing up again and i'm not talking about the nfl. i'm talking about the rivalry between the faculty of education, the administration, the faculty of economics and the faculty of agriculture.

this afternoon is our first match. i'm not exactly sure who we're going to play, all i know is that there will be bodies flying everywhere across a dusty pitch. i play in the back and wear our blue jersey with the word 'ENGLISH' emblazoned across the front with much pride.

we are currently holding the trophy for last year's tournament. we won first prize in the football competition just barely squeaking by the administration's team. we won second prize in the volleyball tournament. this year we plan on bettering our result from last year. this year we plan on winning it all.

whether we win or lose it won't really matter. we're all out there to have fun and it's a wonderful way to make friends but don't confuse that will all of the pre-game chiding.
-
the game ended and our side stood victorious. we all shook hands and joked about what had happened. it was all in good fun. we were all trying to mend bridges from a game that was bitterly contested.

i had hurt my wrist badly after taking a spill over the goalie and shook hands while holding it close to my body. it was one of those injuries that hurts the pride more than the body.

i came home and showered the dust off of my legs and arms. i looked in the mirror and smiled. my red face wrinkled up in the mirror and i was content with the moment. i was happy being with alone with my reflection.

the football season is firing up again and i'm not talking about the nfl. i'm talking about the rivalry between the faculty of education, the administration, the faculty of economics and the faculty of agriculture.

this afternoon is our first match. i'm not exactly sure who we're going to play, all i know is that there will be bodies flying everywhere across a dusty pitch. i play in the back and wear our blue jersey with the word 'ENGLISH' emblazoned across the front with much pride.

we are currently holding the trophy for last year's tournament. we won first prize in the football competition just barely squeaking by the administration's team. we won second prize in the volleyball tournament. this year we plan on bettering our result from last year. this year we plan on winning it all.

whether we win or lose it won't really matter. we're all out there to have fun and it's a wonderful way to make friends but don't confuse that will all of the pre-game chiding.
-
the game ended and our side stood victorious. we all shook hands and joked about what had happened. it was all in good fun. we were all trying to mend bridges from a game that was bitterly contested.

i had hurt my wrist badly after taking a spill over the goalie and shook hands while holding it close to my body. it was one of those injuries that hurts the pride more than the body.

i came home and showered the dust off of my legs and arms. i looked in the mirror and smiled. my red face wrinkled up in the mirror and i was content with the moment. i was happy being with alone with my reflection.

dua bo.

what a wonderful experience. the cow races. well, some are cows and some are steers and it’s not at all like a horse race. in fact, it’s not exactly like anything i’ve ever seen in my life but it was dreadfully similar to watching a high school football game.

this is a khmer/vietnamese cultural event.

we drove from long xuyen to tri ton district early yesterday morning. we arrived at the festivities just as the sun was beginning to flare up. the races took place in the middle of a rice paddy. as we walked towards the noise, the crowds swelled. by the time we reached the ticket gate i was covered in sweat and being pushed from all sides. i was nothing and had no choice except to follow the flow of the masses. we bought tickets and were pushed down muddy paths.

all along the paths people are selling things. they have small stands; some just set drinks on the ground, others carry baskets with fruit. people stop and stare at us. they point and say things like, ‘he is very tall.’

we reached the back corner of the racing area. the ground surrounding the track was raised about ten feet in the air. the track was about 150 meters long and about 70 meters wide. people lined all the banks, they were crammed together. there were no chairs except for the ones some stood on to get a better view. we ended up standing at the back of three rows of people trying to see through them to watch the action. i actually saw the races, some people who came with us were too short and never actually saw any of the cows race.

we saw glimpses of cows and people and movement and mud but nothing more. we figured out where the finish line was and moved there. that was where the action was.

after about a thirty minutes of trudging through mud and people, we arrived at the finish line. there were actually two finish lines and they were both adorned with checkered flags. the flags were cloth and the checks were drawn in with a marker. we found a decent spot and stopped. this was cow racing.

two teams of cows (or steers but, for simplicity, i will call them cows) race against each other. one skinny, young man/boy stands behind them holding on for dear life. the boys stand on a wood board which is attached between the cows by two large pieces of bamboo. they lean back and hold a rope and change direction by delicately hitting the cows with a candy-cane shaped stick. they can do two things with the sticks: whip the cow with the hooked end or poke the cow in the rectal area. the pairs race on a muddy track and the wooden boards skip along.

the race begins with two pairs. they go around the track three different times and, on the final lap, have to run as fast as possible for the final 150 meters. as i said, there are two finish lines. if the second team passes the first finish line before the first team, they win. if the first team passes the second finish line before the second team passes the first finish line, they win. the second team has to run as close to the first team as possible but they are not allowed to pass them. the first two and a half times around the track are fairly boring. these are not cows that are breed for racing. these are cows that normally plow rice fields slowly all afternoon. they are tall and you can see their ribs. they have small horns and long faces. they do not run that terribly fast.

sometimes the first team will try to storm away at the beginning. if you fall off the wooden plank and land on your backside, you lose. if you hold on and stay on your stomach, you’re still qualified. lots of drivers fall off. also, if you fall off, the cows will run faster. the weight that is normally on the plank and the friction that it causes with the mud tells them to not run too fast. without that weight, they run frantically. sometimes they run into the crowd.

i stood with the men. i knew i was in trouble when i looked around and saw that there were no women, only young, male farmers. these were the invincible types. they talked about the cows for the first two laps. they talked about the drivers. they talked strategy. it was just like being at a football game. they all looked, chatted and argued over results. i asked them if the bulls ever run up the sides of the banks and they casually said yes. they told me to run if anything happened. that was reassuring.

sure enough, not one or two races later a driver fell off of his team. he fell off on the opposite corner of the track and his team charged across the field. it took me a while to realize that they were heading right for us and, when i did, i realized that i was wedged into the crowd. there is no way to escape when there is no where to go. the crowd was all leaning, too. they tend to lean when anything exciting happens. if you don’t want to lean, you really don’t have a choice in the matter. you have to lean. usually, during the last sprint of the race everyone pushes on the person in front of them and the man behind you pushes on you and you all push on each other and become small. for some reason the crowd was leaning on each other, leaning towards the racing bulls. things happened slowly. the bull got very close to us, turned a bit to the left and charged through the crowd. luckily, one of the bulls tripped on the piled dirt and fell dragging the other one with him. they didn’t get too far and the crowd did its best to disperse.

they drug the cows off and the races continued. we left early because it was too hot and there were four more hours of racing to go. my legs were stiff from standing and my shirt was soaked through with sweat. i said good bye to my fellow sports fans, they smiled, casually raised their hands and were back to their cow racing. we walked through a rice paddy to go home. we walked through a rice paddy in the middle of the afternoon and i took my shoes off because everything was wonderful. i walked through the mud and looked down the whole way and got delightfully dirty.

the rain last night is what everyone talked about today. the rain last night caused everything to flood and people were sure that lightening had struck all about the guest house.

the rain caused the road in front of our house to flood completely. it was under a solid six or seven or eight inches of water and students walked to class with their pants held up close to their knees.

i have the luxury of traveling by a motorcycle through the water but one must be wary of large rocks or bricks randomly strewn about that would otherwise be easy to see and avoid. agh, with the murky water obscuring all, one must simply hope. when one solely relies on hope they are bound to slip at some point and i did and my pants were muddied and made wet.

the rest of the road the heads out of the university was also flooded on both sides and, by lunch, there was only a thin stream of traffic moving at a snail’s pace through the middle. everyone was pressed against one another and motorcycles hummed along quietly and bicycles tried to stay straight and girls in beautiful dresses tried not to get mud on the hem.

eventually the sun rose from its slumber and screamed through the clouds for the water to stop molesting us. the water eventually rose and left. the roads opened up again. they opened as if moses rose his staff and asked the flood season water to up and vanish.

today we went to play. we went to play at the house of a student of a teacher that is my friend.

it is the rainy season here and their house was surrounded by water. it is the rainy season and their lives had changed. they lived on a small island.

their house was of the same style as many houses i have seen in the past. the house stands up about three feet off of the ground. it is supported by pillars of cement. the floorboards of the house are wood, but worn to a shine. the insides of the house are simple and alters are everywhere.

the front of the house is a clay field. in the middle of that clay field there is a cement alter to the gods. that alter keeps us safe. we walked across a bridge made of a couple of bamboo poles and arrived there to bask in its glory. the simplicity made me wince.

we went out into the fields to play. the fields, because it is the rainy season, were covered with water. the fields were nothing but a giant pond. we played a game with a ball and fell in the mud and slipped around and played in the water. we came to fish but played instead.

after the game there was only eating left to do. we sat on the front porch and sang songs and played the guitar and thought about life. we sang songs that had lyrics like, ‘life is like the wind blowing through our hair.’ these were songs that dealt with our human mortality and all of our human flaws. this was a beautiful time.

we ended out singing and eating and we walked back over the bridge that had no name but was made out of a couple of pieces of bamboo that were forced into the water.

oh, the fields covered with water! oh, the friendship, the companionship of other human beings! oh, the thought of losing someone because of mistakes that are bound to occur, because some people believe the world is their own! what horror!

this is an english summary of the article. it does a decent job of condensing the article. by the way, the title of the book will be, 'Vietnam: a perspective from the post-war generation.' you can find itHERE

i’m actually sitting in class right now. i brought my laptop to one of my lit classes where they are having a test. i sit behind the desk elevated on a concrete platform in front of 40 some bowed heads working feverishly on an essay comparing the thematic differences between homer’s ‘iliad’ and the movie ‘troy’. they pick their heads up every once in a while to stare off into a corner of the room or to rub their forehead as one girl is now doing. she just wiped her nose.

to the right of me there is a giant construction project going on. it’s not really giant, but the manpower that are working on the site would lead one to believe that. there are about thirty people working on a new set of classrooms. they are now hammering on the frames they have built for the new support columns. they build these ten or twelve foot high columns by pouring bucket after bucket of concrete into the frame they are now hammering. there is nothing like teaching about love and war to the sound of hammering and banging and booming.

there is also a remote controlled airplane flying somewhere in the distance. it’s quite easy to hear with all of the, ‘wwwwiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggg’, in the distance.

the day is almost finished and i will try to play basketball if the sky god holds off on the rain. a big brutish student is finished with his test but doesn’t want to be the first one to bring it to the front. i remember those days. i’m not equating myself to a big brutish guy either.

the wind is blowing fiercely through the classroom now. the windows are made of steel bars, much like a prison cell. one could see it as hampering the ability of students to study or one could use the excuse that the bars are necessary as reminders that, at times, there must be physical constraint to study. we all can’t just go willy-nilly frolicking around with our thoughts. we have to put them into little cages where they can rest.

i count three people finished with their test. one girl has given up and is about to go to sleep.

the class next to us just erupted into cheers for some reason.

i watched the musical ‘chicago’ yesterday and it was beautiful. i love watching musicals now and am convinced that every movie should be required to add a song or two by law. my line from the movie was when the lawyer character screams about the jury, ‘they can’t hear the truth above the roar!!!’ i thought it very true of modern america’s obsession with media and spin and hype. what is even true anymore? was anything ever true?

taught about hermeneutics in my other class today. should give a talk on the hermeneutics of teaching about hermeneutics in vietnam.

i watch for cheaters like a hawk. they wouldn’t dare cheat. i told them i’d cut off their pinky the first time they cheated and would work my way down the hand for each additional time. nothing like the fear of god to make someone go straight.

vietnam is such a beautiful place. there are giant tropical trees to my left and my right. the wind blows across the desk and blows my hair. the sky is pearl blue. i will return to my work and that will be all. there is nothing more to say when life is so peaceful, when only the thoughts trapped in your head can run around for a bit and a cool wind can press against the side of your head.

i’m actually sitting in class right now. i brought my laptop to one of my lit classes where they are having a test. i sit behind the desk elevated on a concrete platform in front of 40 some bowed heads working feverishly on an essay comparing the thematic differences between homer’s ‘iliad’ and the movie ‘troy’. they pick their heads up every once in a while to stare off into a corner of the room or to rub their forehead as one girl is now doing. she just wiped her nose.

to the right of me there is a giant construction project going on. it’s not really giant, but the manpower that are working on the site would lead one to believe that. there are about thirty people working on a new set of classrooms. they are now hammering on the frames they have built for the new support columns. they build these ten or twelve foot high columns by pouring bucket after bucket of concrete into the frame they are now hammering. there is nothing like teaching about love and war to the sound of hammering and banging and booming.

there is also a remote controlled airplane flying somewhere in the distance. it’s quite easy to hear with all of the, ‘wwwwiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggg’, in the distance.

the day is almost finished and i will try to play basketball if the sky god holds off on the rain. a big brutish student is finished with his test but doesn’t want to be the first one to bring it to the front. i remember those days. i’m not equating myself to a big brutish guy either.

the wind is blowing fiercely through the classroom now. the windows are made of steel bars, much like a prison cell. one could see it as hampering the ability of students to study or one could use the excuse that the bars are necessary as reminders that, at times, there must be physical constraint to study. we all can’t just go willy-nilly frolicking around with our thoughts. we have to put them into little cages where they can rest.

i count three people finished with their test. one girl has given up and is about to go to sleep.

the class next to us just erupted into cheers for some reason.

i watched the musical ‘chicago’ yesterday and it was beautiful. i love watching musicals now and am convinced that every movie should be required to add a song or two by law. my line from the movie was when the lawyer character screams about the jury, ‘they can’t hear the truth above the roar!!!’ i thought it very true of modern america’s obsession with media and spin and hype. what is even true anymore? was anything ever true?

taught about hermeneutics in my other class today. should give a talk on the hermeneutics of teaching about hermeneutics in vietnam.

i watch for cheaters like a hawk. they wouldn’t dare cheat. i told them i’d cut off their pinky the first time they cheated and would work my way down the hand for each additional time. nothing like the fear of god to make someone go straight.

vietnam is such a beautiful place. there are giant tropical trees to my left and my right. the wind blows across the desk and blows my hair. the sky is pearl blue. i will return to my work and that will be all. there is nothing more to say when life is so peaceful, when only the thoughts trapped in your head can run around for a bit and a cool wind can press against the side of your head.

This was translated on the fly. I didn’t have a chance to read back through it so please ignore mistakes.


Vietnam Through the Eyes of a Young American

Even though the Vietnam war has passed nearly 30 years ago, it still haunts many Americans. Not only with the generation of veterans who experienced and were involved in the war but that generation’s children are sometimes still mistaken in their understanding of a country where their fathers went and fought.

Jonathan David Moyer – an intelligent American who is very young, after nearly 3 years here has turned into a ‘resident’ of Viet Nam and has a very different perspective. He is prepared to publish his first book: Viet Nam – a perspective from the post-war generation.

Jonathan D. Moyer (his nickname is John) always tries to engage in situations that allow him to understand Vietnamese culture in a deeper, more profound way. From An Giang up to Saigon, following the footsteps of the famous southern writer Son Nam, John and his companion – Ho Minh Duc stopped by the offices of Thanh Nien newspaper. We were very interested in his ability to converse in Vietnamese, especially his pronunciation which is very southern. John took the initiative and invited us to sing karaoke where he sang “Phoi pha” (composed by Trinh Cong Son) and scored… 98 points!

Q: John, what year were you born? Why did you come to Viet Nam?

A: I’m the year of the monkey, let’s see (he counted on the knuckles of his fingers): Horse, Goat, Monkey… right, I was born in 1980. My father is a businessman and my mother is the principal of a high school in Pennsylvania. In terms of Americans, not too many of them understand very much or hear very much about Vietnam and with my generation, our understanding of Vietnam is a little hazy. After I graduated studying International Business and Spanish at Bluffton university in Ohio I was truly confused when I was trying to decide what direction to head in the future. At that time, a teacher of mine, Dr. Dan Wessner told me that, ‘We have a big opportunity in Viet Nam.’ I asked him, ‘Where?’

Dr. Wessner has a lot of experience with Viet Nam from 1990 to 1998 and he has a lot of experience with this country. He told me that they had some new work to be done in a town called Long Xuyen. There, they had a school that was just newly established and the rector of the school was Dr. Vo Tong Xuan, a friend of Dr. Wessner.

I was very excited and ran directly back to the dorms where I called my parents. ‘Mom, Dad, Dr. Wessner asked me to go and work in Vietnam.’ My parents didn’t really say anything but I could understand that they were going to support my decision. Finally my dad said, ‘Good! But what do you really know about Viet Nam?” That was a good question and I spent all my energy trying to learn about the culture and the language which, according to me, is abundant and special…

Q: Can you tell us about some of your initial feelings after you set foot in Viet Nam?

A: I teach English at An Giang University. One week after I set foot in Vietnam, some of my colleagues asked me to go to a wedding. We first went to the house of the bride and started to participate in the celebration. One of my Vietnamese friends explained to me why we were going to the house of the bride first and why we would then go to the house of the groom. He said that this was an ancient custom here, that the family of the groom has to go to the house of the bride and pick her up to take to her new home. At the house of the groom I saw both the bride and the groom venerating their ancestors. They presented themselves to their ancestors who had passed away and let them know that the bride and groom now wanted to live together. From that wedding, I started to really think about how important of a factor family was for Vietnam. It wasn’t only the mother and father, the brothers and sisters all around them, but everyone in the extended family was venerating those who had passed before. Family in America also plays a very important role but what I had experienced was very Vietnamese.

Q: John, what can you tell us about your book?

A: Well, this is my first book and it would not be possible without the help of Ho Minh Duc (editor) and the encouragement of Dr. Vo Tong Xuan. The book is going to be bilingual. The goal of the book is to allow the reader to feel and understand how an American born after the war experiences a country that has been misunderstood by a lot of Americans. I want people to appreciate their culture and, according to me, it is a very special culture. I hope that this will be a book that is quite different from any other book written by other American’s about Vietnam.

All the proceeds from the book will go to An Giang University.

Q: Thanks a lot John and we hope your book will be successful!

things are out of control.

this is an article about me found in the ‘thanh nien’ newspaper today. it talks about the book i am writing and about a meeting i had with a journalist in ho chi minh city. this is the same paper that wrote about me about 8 months ago.

the book should be published before the lunar new year if everything goes smoothly. not much else to say. i’ll translate it when i have time.

i watched ‘west side story’ the other day.

i hadn’t watched the film in quite a while, but there’s really nothing more beautiful than pretending that a couple of gangs from new york city can be such beautiful dancers and singers. the combination of twists and twirls and threats and punches makes for quite an experience. i sat there the whole time laughing and grinning. i wasn’t in any mood to laugh or grin neither.

life here seems to keep plodding along like it always does. i wake up in the morning, head off to the coffee shop where i talk to the waitress for a bit about nothing of import and then head off to work. the coffee there is excellent. they use crushed ice. crushed ice should be used the world over because it makes any drink that much better. there are the little bits of ice that crawl into your mouth as you’re sipping along and then the bigger chunks that you can chomp on at the end.

then it’s off to work. mcc bought a new motorcycle and it’s quite a nice piece of work. i zip along. it roars like a frustrated adolescent. angst.

then there’s work.

then lunch at the same coffee shop where i have a plate of tuna and a fried egg with some sauce that is somewhat similar to tomato sauce. i eat it all with a piece of bread, a leftover of french colonialism. i don’t know if all of the suffering and the hundreds of thousands of dead people even out the benefit of having french bread. one would think there would be easier ways of introducing french bread to a culture.

then there’s work.

i then drive home, change and play basketball (if it’s not raining). first we warm up. after warming up and generally joking around with everyone, we play. it’s the old men who play first as the youngsters watch from the sides. everyone’s eager to play. everyone eventually gets in.

then there’s supper. that always depends.

then i fall asleep under a mosquito net that’s been torn to shreds by the dog who likes to fight with it. i don’t have a mosquito problem because i keep my door shut during the day. if i wouldn’t, i’d be bitten to shreds by morning.

then i sleep.

i woke up today and was thinking about meekness and humility. i don't really know why, it was just an idea that was stuck in my head after a long, dreamfilled night.

meak: mild of temper; not easily provoked or orritated; patient under injuries; not vain, or haughty, or resentful; forbearing but submissive; showing patience and humility; gentle.

i'm trying to be meek today, a task that is made more difficult due to the fact that i'm in the office alone. how can one be meek with out other people to see and judge?

well, i'm doing my best to be meek. it says the meek will inheret the earth and that doesn't sound like such a bad thing. i wonder what the meek would do with the earth? there surely wouldn't be any 'war presidents' around.

the rest of the day i will try to be more meek, for what purpose i am not sure. i guess people will be more receptive to me, they will open up more. the meek will inheret the earth may simply mean that those who interact with others meekly will bring about understanding; the meek will be the ones who bridge the gaps that naturally form becuase of historic and cultural differences.

it may pay to be meek. i'm gonna practice in an empty office.

the man who fixed my motorcycle was a beautiful man. he was sinewy. he was covered in black grease, like an exotic bird in an oil spill of the coast of alaska.

i walked out of my room the other day and found my motorcycle standing above a giant puddle of gas. i pushed the motorbike, which i recently named 'abe lincoln' down the road until i found a man who could fix it.

he sat down on his hunches and poked around at the engine with a wrench. he decided he would take apart the fuel filter and he did with ease. he laid everything down in a giant pan dotted with innumerable dents and scratches. i stood beside him along side the road watching traffic flow by.

he pulled everything apart using a screwdriver and a wrench. he started to blow on different parts; he blew and then he spit onto the ground. he found the problem, a rubber seal that was not shutting everything down, and walked inside his house.

he emerged from his home with an ancient pair of scissors and a large sheet of thick rubber. he decided he would cut his own rubber seal from the rubber by simply looking at the old one. he did it with ease.

i paid the man about a dollar and drove off. i haven't had a problem with abe lincoln since.

the man who fixed my motorcycle was a beautiful man. he was sinewy. he was covered in black grease, like an exotic bird in an oil spill of the coast of alaska.

i walked out of my room the other day and found my motorcycle standing above a giant puddle of gas. i pushed the motorbike, which i recently named 'abe lincoln' down the road until i found a man who could fix it.

he sat down on his hunches and poked around at the engine with a wrench. he decided he would take apart the fuel filter and he did with ease. he laid everything down in a giant pan dotted with innumerable dents and scratches. i stood beside him along side the road watching traffic flow by.

he pulled everything apart using a screwdriver and a wrench. he started to blow on different parts; he blew and then he spit onto the ground. he found the problem, a rubber seal that was not shutting everything down, and walked inside his house.

he emerged from his home with an ancient pair of scissors and a large sheet of thick rubber. he decided he would cut his own rubber seal from the rubber by simply looking at the old one. he did it with ease.

i paid the man about a dollar and drove off. i haven't had a problem with abe lincoln since.

the man who fixed my motorcycle was a beautiful man. he was sinewy. he was covered in black grease, like an exotic bird in an oil spill of the coast of alaska.

i walked out of my room the other day and found my motorcycle standing above a giant puddle of gas. i pushed the motorbike, which i recently named 'abe lincoln' down the road until i found a man who could fix it.

he sat down on his hunches and poked around at the engine with a wrench. he decided he would take apart the fuel filter and he did with ease. he laid everything down in a giant pan dotted with innumerable dents and scratches. i stood beside him along side the road watching traffic flow by.

he pulled everything apart using a screwdriver and a wrench. he started to blow on different parts; he blew and then he spit onto the ground. he found the problem, a rubber seal that was not shutting everything down, and walked inside his house.

he emerged from his home with an ancient pair of scissors and a large sheet of thick rubber. he decided he would cut his own rubber seal from the rubber by simply looking at the old one. he did it with ease.

i paid the man about a dollar and drove off. i haven't had a problem with abe lincoln since.

i spent the last week in hanoi at the 50th anniversary celebration of mcc in vietnam. it was a week filled with good food and better conversation.

some of the conversations i had were with a man who had stayed in saigon after 1975. he and a few other mcc volunteers had decided that they wanted to stay and the new government said that all friendly people were welcome.

the population of saigon was on pins and needles after april of 1975 because rumors had spread all over that, when the soldiers would take the city, there would be a blood bath. when the soldiers came, there came unarmed.

they walked through the streets of saigon with out guns, only carrying flags. they would stop in public squares and talk to people. they would split off and talk about the war, talk about the north and the new government.

there were also many cultural events. i was told a story of one specific event presented by a music group that traveled around with soldiers in the jungle to keep moral up. he said that the crowd was fairly cynical when one of the first woman came to the stage and began to introduce the act. she talked and the audience mumbled. no one was very excited.

as she finished speaking, she turned to walk away. as she turned, the audience fell silent. her hair fell to her feet. her hair was vietnamese, truly traditional. that moment, that split second when she turned and her hair fell down and draped to her feet was a moment that seemed to shock the audience into a state of shock. they had been presented with western culture for so long that they seemed to have lost touch with their traditional culture.

he told fascinating stories and i do them no justice. he told stories about cultures interacting, about life after war in a place that no one understood and everyone judged to be wrong.

Yesterday was a day for people to travel with Mennonite Central Committee and Church World Service to visit sites that have been funded by the two organizations.

We jumped into Land Cruisers. Land Cruisers, for those of you who do not know, are large vehicles, similar to a van, but much more agile. They have large bases and look as if they should be driving up riverbeds, or over sand dunes. I snickered as we drove along through Ha Noi's winding streets towards the countryside. Why would we need vehicles with suspensions that could handle just about everything in their path as we glided down paved roads that were so smooth one could hear the tread of the tire hum along the ground?

We drove out of Ha Noi, out of the hustle, and over the expansive bridge that heads northeast out of the city. The bridge is broad and long and does not arch in the middle. It remains flat throughout and the river, like glass below.

Out of the city, I fell asleep. I have learned to sleep well in small spaces and I curled up against the door of the car using my hand as a pillow. I slept for an hour.
When I awoke, I found myself in a different world. This was a world of rolling hills and masking stands of trees and bushes. I did not wake up because we had arrived at our destination, but rather lifted my head and opened my eyes because we were driving down a road that was seemingly designed for our Land Cruiser.

The road was made from pressed earth. The ground was packed and hard and potholes had long since formed and were well entrenched in the character of the path we were rumbling over. Patches of land were used for growing a variety of things, all at different elevations. These patches of land were no larger than the living room of my childhood home. They meet at all angles, like roughly cut pieces of a puzzle.

People were in the fields. The fields surrounding the road were full of people standing, harvesting and chatting. Any bit of scenery that we passed at a lazy but violently bumpy 30 km/hr was occupied by at least one person.

A typical scene is as follows:

The Land Cruiser lunges over a large rock and threatens to bottom-out as the left side of the car edges dangerously close to the adjacent field. We round a small bend and pass a stand of thick trees and bushes. Off to our right there are three people working in a small field picking tealeaves from long, straight bushes covered in waxy green growth. The three people have parked their bicycles next to the road in a large bush. The three workers look up as we pass. They see a giant Land Cruiser and one of the girls waves and the other two stand there silently. They are all wearing conical hats and loose fitting clothes. We pass in an air-conditioned Land Cruiser.

Finally our Land Cruiser arrives at its destination: a small village of 'San Diu' ethnic minority people in the middle of Thai Ngueyn province. We walked across a small bridge and up a dirt road past fields of tealeaves. We turned left and arrived at a small elementary school that was built with help from Christian World Service. They had built a row of classrooms and a bathroom with a mural on the side depicting happiness and warning people to, 'Wash your hands!'

We toured the building and were greeted by students and teachers as we stood in the hot afternoon sun.

The tour ended and we walked back to the vehicles stopping only to wash our faces in the warm, mountain river. We drove back down the dusty roads in our lumbering Land Cruisers and eventually arrived at the highway that lead us back to Ha Noi. Driving through the hills that sprawl out to the North of Ha Noi is a beautiful experience that makes one feel like an adventurer, a neo-colonizer and a special part of this rich history and culture.

Yesterday was a day for people to travel with Mennonite Central Committee and Church World Service to visit sites that have been funded by the two organizations.

We jumped into Land Cruisers. Land Cruisers, for those of you who do not know, are large vehicles, similar to a van, but much more agile. They have large bases and look as if they should be driving up riverbeds, or over sand dunes. I snickered as we drove along through Ha Noi's winding streets towards the countryside. Why would we need vehicles with suspensions that could handle just about everything in their path as we glided down paved roads that were so smooth one could hear the tread of the tire hum along the ground?

We drove out of Ha Noi, out of the hustle, and over the expansive bridge that heads northeast out of the city. The bridge is broad and long and does not arch in the middle. It remains flat throughout and the river, like glass below.

Out of the city, I fell asleep. I have learned to sleep well in small spaces and I curled up against the door of the car using my hand as a pillow. I slept for an hour.
When I awoke, I found myself in a different world. This was a world of rolling hills and masking stands of trees and bushes. I did not wake up because we had arrived at our destination, but rather lifted my head and opened my eyes because we were driving down a road that was seemingly designed for our Land Cruiser.

The road was made from pressed earth. The ground was packed and hard and potholes had long since formed and were well entrenched in the character of the path we were rumbling over. Patches of land were used for growing a variety of things, all at different elevations. These patches of land were no larger than the living room of my childhood home. They meet at all angles, like roughly cut pieces of a puzzle.

People were in the fields. The fields surrounding the road were full of people standing, harvesting and chatting. Any bit of scenery that we passed at a lazy but violently bumpy 30 km/hr was occupied by at least one person.

A typical scene is as follows:

The Land Cruiser lunges over a large rock and threatens to bottom-out as the left side of the car edges dangerously close to the adjacent field. We round a small bend and pass a stand of thick trees and bushes. Off to our right there are three people working in a small field picking tealeaves from long, straight bushes covered in waxy green growth. The three people have parked their bicycles next to the road in a large bush. The three workers look up as we pass. They see a giant Land Cruiser and one of the girls waves and the other two stand there silently. They are all wearing conical hats and loose fitting clothes. We pass in an air-conditioned Land Cruiser.

Finally our Land Cruiser arrives at its destination: a small village of 'San Diu' ethnic minority people in the middle of Thai Ngueyn province. We walked across a small bridge and up a dirt road past fields of tealeaves. We turned left and arrived at a small elementary school that was built with help from Christian World Service. They had built a row of classrooms and a bathroom with a mural on the side depicting happiness and warning people to, 'Wash your hands!'

We toured the building and were greeted by students and teachers as we stood in the hot afternoon sun.

The tour ended and we walked back to the vehicles stopping only to wash our faces in the warm, mountain river. We drove back down the dusty roads in our lumbering Land Cruisers and eventually arrived at the highway that lead us back to Ha Noi. Driving through the hills that sprawl out to the North of Ha Noi is a beautiful experience that makes one feel like an adventurer, a neo-colonizer and a special part of this rich history and culture.

The hotel we are staying in is no more than a five-minute walk from Hoan Kiem Lake. This lake stands at the very heart of Hanoi and has played a very important role in shaping the identity of the capital throughout history.

Historically, this is the place where the ancient Vietnamese king Le Loi was forced by a tortoise to return the golden sword to the lake after he defeated the Chinese invaders in the 15th century. The words ‘Hoan Kiem’ mean ‘Restored Sword’. This historical story is more than myth and gives historic and supernatural credibility to the independence of this country.

Currently, the lake is an important cultural and gathering center in Hanoi. Activity around the lake begins in the early mornings with people exercising before the sun rises. As the day progresses, the lake becomes a place for people to gather and spend time together over a cup of coffee or a meal. Couples gather on the stone benches to look out over the water and chat. As nighttime approaches, the lake becomes a place for people of all ages to walk around and socialize. The lake is the center of a hub of activity.

If one looks across the lake they will see two small islands. One island is the home of the ‘Tortoise Pagoda’, which houses a replica of the tortoise that returned the magical sword of Le Loi to the water. Towards the northern point of the lake one can see the ‘Ngoc Son’ temple built in the 19th century.

As dusk fell on Hanoi, I sat at a corner café drinking a watermelon shake. I sat behind a cooler in between rows of beads that hung from the ceiling watching the bustling city hum around me. Ladies walked carrying goods on bamboo poles through the crowded traffic. Young men drove young women on new motorcycles imported from Japan. Young women huddled around television sets watching a Chinese soap opera where a young mother died and the family grieved.

As this drama unfolded around me, I noticed a gathering of children a bit further up the road. They all gathered behind a large blue and white sign emblazoned with the phrase: ’50 years since the Liberation of the Capital.’ They were from the Hang Bac commune, which is located just north of Hoan Kiem Lake. They gathered in order to march towards the lake to meet up with children from other communes gathering to do the same. In the middle of the board they carried was a bold rendition of the Tortoise Pagoda sitting on a black hill.

This group of children from the Hang Bac commune was gathering behind a symbol of the liberation of Vietnam from the Chinese. They were marching to the lake where Le Loi returned the magic sword that liberated them over 600 years ago in celebration of an agreement that liberated Hanoi from the French exactly 50 years ago. This parade was a culmination of history and symbolism. The youngest generation of city was parading behind one of Vietnam’s oldest symbols of independence.

The historic and modern significance of this lake cannot be understated. It is currently used as a place for people socialize and remember. Historically, it is the center of a story that is part mythology and part fact, combining the actual existence of Le Loi with the fantastic story of a giant tortoise returning a magical sword to the depths of a very important body of water.

two years living in vietnam and i have not seen one american football game.

i was raised on the stuff. my father used to coach the game and we would spend every sunday afternoon in our basement watching the eagles play whoever they were pitted up against. my father patiently explained the game and we slowly picked up the rules. eventually my brother and i came to cherish the time we would spend in the basement sitting on different chairs yelling at the television. dad never yelled. he sat with his arms folded.

this morning i woke up in my hotel room early and turned on the television. there, sure enough, were the eagles playing the vikings on monday night football.

it sounds kind of pathetic but there was something about watching a game and knowing my dad was watching it half a world away at the exact same time. he was probably sitting in his bedroom on the edge of the bed with his arms folded. i sat on a cheap wooden stool with the door open two stories above the noisy street across from a construction project. i sat and drank water and watched the game and, even though my dad and brother didn't know i was watching, it felt like they did.

the eagles won. by the fourth quarter they were soundly ahead and my father, i can only speculate, would have turned the television off early and went to bed. he never needed to see the end of games if the eagles were winning by too much or loosing by too much. i sat through the whole game and watched as the over paid athletes walked onto the field to congratulate each other at the end.

on another note, i was truly shocked at how opulent the whole event was. here were people, human beings, making millions of dollars a year. here was a new stadium that cost millions. i was sitting in the hotel room with my friend and he commented every time he saw a fat person. 'anh ay map.' 'he's fat.' over and over and over again. there was even a blimp flying above the stadium. if one though about what resources we had and how we used them and what people need and how we could use them, it could boggle the mind.

well, what can i do about it.

we had a meeting today with a newspaper.

we walked into a granite building with glass doors and stood in the lobby for a bit as they called some people down to greet us. i was standing with my editor. we were trying to have them print parts of our book. we were looking for some free advertisement.

after a meeting with three young people, we met the head of the culture section of the paper. he was an infinitely affable man and we had a rousing conversation. he liked it.

he liked it.

he liked it.

he had a man come down and take a picture of our meeting. there may actually be an article about our meeting in the paper, an article about a meeting. a foreigner writing a book in vietnamese about vietnamese culture. this, somehow, for some reason, is news.

i don't exactly know where this will go but it has all the makings of being something that is beyond my control.

it feels like i'm treading water.

the world is spinning. no, no, more to the point, my world is spinning. it's out of control. i'm going to ho chi minh city this weekend and then off to hanoi. will have much to report and will meet some fascinating people.

mcc has been in vietnam for 50 years and there's going to be a party. on top of that, i'm going to see if i can get a book published. whoa.

the rain came the other day and flooded the road. students were walking to class in the brown water, about knee deep on some. i was driving my bicycle slowly because, if you hit a rock or a brick that's hiding under the water, you're bound to fall. falling in the brown water on the way to work is a surefire way to ruin a day.

the rain came into the buildings, it crawled under the doors. the guesthouse was flooded with water when i woke up. the rain just sat on the floor waiting for its time to float up into the air.

i woke up and the rain had stopped. the air was still thick and wet but the sun was out. the trees were still covered with moisture but the clouds that had dropped it had vanished. to wake up in a steam bath and then to wade through streets in a noble attempt to arrive at work not covered with mud and rain is to truly live.

just a few days ago was the three year anniversary of the september 11th terrorist happening, as i’m sure you are all well aware.

some of my very alert friends also took note of the day and decided to invite me out for supper and a special commemoration coffee later on.

dinner was nice and we didn’t focus too much on 9/11. after supper, which took place on a small, wooden porch hanging over a swollen river, we headed off to the tallest building in long xuyen. my friends wanted to recreate the event.

the tallest building in long xuyen is a hotel that stretches six stories up. across from the hotel is a trade center that had just been demolished. it was demolished quickly and had fallen in upon itself. it was, originally, a tall, majestic building that some people would call the ‘circus’ because it’s metal roof stretched up to a point like a circus tent. it was about three hundred feet square.

we sat on the roof overlooking this fallen building. it was rather disturbing, to tell you the truth. the event was recreated as well as would be possible in the mekong and i felt strangely like i was actually near a place where a tragic event recently took place.

then there were the speeches. we stood up and talked about reconciliation, learning about culture and how we could grow as people closer to one another. we talked about the horrors of terrorism, about our generation and how this would inadvertently shape us. one rather passionate speech was given as a giant thunderhead passed in the distance.

the speaker stood and talked about war and the innocent lives that are lost as the sky darkened and lightning ominously struck a little too close for my comfort but he didn’t seem to mind and continued talking in a smooth but passionate voice about the suffering he has vicariously experienced at the hands of metal balls that fall from cylindrical metal planes only to explode wantonly. he said we needed to understand culture to grow together in peace. he talked and the gods concurred and applauded with their lightning and tried to wake our collective conscience with their thunder.

sweating it out on hot streets in long dress pants that were made by the devil.

roaring down the road no the back of a metal mass powered by dead animals.

sitting in a room on a chair that doesn't give in any way.

eating a plate of rice that's been in a pot that was made by a machine in a factory in china.

walking into my room to see the mess to remind myself to clean but just sitting down.

looking out at the world just waiting for things to change. nothing changes.

meeting people and smiling only to smile so that they feel good.

laying on my back under a mosquito net on a lumpy bed.

watching the trees as they sway and move in the wind as a storm approaches like an army.

sitting and looking and waiting and watching.

mcc has just acquired a new motorcycle for the mekong delta. my job here almost requires a motorcycle and, since i have returned the older one that i used to rent, i have not been nearly as flexible.

the purchase was made after a solid month of contracts and negotiations. the bike is a honda 'windy' and it is black with a teal and purple wing on the gas tank. i still don't have a license plate but that should be coming in a couple of days. i'm going to be needing it soon seeing as how i'm heading over to can tho this weekend for our first ever joint movie night.

we have shown movies in america and vietnam simultaneously for the past year with much success. with the new year, we decided it would be prudent to add another school to the list if they were so willing. this increases my responsibilities a bit, but it is worth it to know that we're making wonderful connections and people are really benefiting from our work down here.

i realize that most things coming from this webpage are self-centered in nature. how does one take something that was originally meant to be personal and censor it for the consumption of others while retaining integrity?

how do i reconcile my past with the past of others? how do i not stand alone, not stand labeled? how do i be a better person, a helpful and peaceful person when most of the time i'm not even sure what 'better' even is?

what do i do when people come to me and ask for advice when i have none? why does it feel like the transition to adulthood is something i was not prepared for? why does it all feel so ephemeral?

why does this seem like a childish cry for help when it really isn't meant to be?

i don't know and, the beauty of it all is that none of us can stop this life, this existence. we can try to shape it, alter it, but there is no way for us to stop the eternal churn and chug of our life. it bounces along like a boulder down a hill, sometimes this way, sometimes that way, always pounding ahead.

we are studying 'gilgamesh' in class and we will talk about how we deal with mortality.

i just wrote a bunch, highlighted it and bumped the space bar. there is nothing like that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you delete something. the computer god's collaborate and make your life miserable.

borrowed a friend's motorcycle today and headed all over looking for a place that makes shoes.

i can't easily buy a shoe here that fits me and proper footwear is very important for teaching at the university. i normally wear shoes that i bought at home but those shoes are quickly fading in the rainy season's humidity. i needed something new.

i did what i always do when i'm looking for a place new. i drive around the town stopping to ask just about everyone where i could get shoes made.

conversations normally progress like this:

'where can i get shoes made?'

'what?'

'where can i get shoes made?'

'shoes?'

'yea'

'i don't know. hey, frank (though i've yet to meet a man named frank, i do like to use the name), where can this guy get shoes made?'

frank: 'i don't know. over there.'

he'll then point in a general direction which i will take. i ask another person. sometimes they point back to where frank is and i head in a slightly different direction. eventually, someone will say the name of a store but they're not sure where it is. then you head in a direction and ask where the store is. someone eventually knows where to go.

the store was perfect. they had a giant book with hundreds of pages of foot outlines and measurements. i picked out a style i liked and they put the book on the white tile floor. they opened to a page that was blank and i stood on the same binding that hundreds of people have stood on before. she outlined my foot very carefully and then measured around the ball of the foot and my arch. she wrote everything down and then the style of shoe i wanted.

four dollars and one week later i will have a new pair of shoes tailored perfectly to my feet.

this is one of my favorite songs to sing. i translated it quickly and it’s not the best quality, but it’s the meaning i derive from the song. i don’t do the song justice.

one must cry out when they sing this song. this song writhes in misery.

agh! the pain! the anguish! the beauty!



To Fade

by: Trinh Cong Son

Embrace the night heart
The moon has just returned
I remember the errant leg
So short-lived!
The spring of life, but already old,
One day to stand at the shore
Life is like the wind

I have no one
The road home is so long
Every night far from her
A bowl of peppery wine
One life I drink of
To let the world wait

I return to occupy each day
I see the sun shine
I see the rain fly
Many people return again
Return again to the bottom of the sky
To make clouds… drift…

Go home!
What does the bare road have?
Green hair for how many seasons
Many times when…
From the midnight garden, a step home
Whose feet are so light?
The soul so many years ago.

I return to occupy each day
I see the sun shine
I see the rain fly
Many people far away return again
Return again to the bottom of the sky
To make clouds… drift…