the last night i was in laos we had a spiritual time together as well as celebrating a laotian ceremony.

the spiritual time was very peaceful. we sat next to the river on a balcony with jagged mountains to our right. i leaned back in my chair and stared up at the sky and the orange slice of moon. we would sit in silence and i couldn’t quiet my mind so i let it run for a bit. i thought about things, i enjoyed thinking and feeling them inside of me.

staring up at the sky, through the abyss and darkness, i felt like the earth was wonderfully small. in vietnamese there is a saying ‘the frog who sits at the bottom of a well.’ it is meant to denote a person who doesn’t really have a thorough perspective of the world. a frog who sits at the bottom of a well can only see the well’s opening. the opening of the well is not large enough to let the frog have an objective perspective and i felt just like that frog leaning back on my chair and looking up at the sky.

thought the sky was dark and there were only a couple of stars shining through the haze, i felt as if i could see the atmosphere move. from my position, it almost felt like i could reach up and grab the clouds as they swirled and twisted in the sky. in my mind’s eye, they all looked green and blue, much like the weather maps on the ‘weather channel’.

i enjoyed listening to the bugs chirp, the river flow. i felt like, while i was only looking through the narrow opening of the well, that really wasn’t a problem.

we moved to the front lawn where someone had built a fire and someone else had brought things for roasting marshmallows. we stood there and chatted.

we all participated in a laotian ceremony. as it was explained to me, this ceremony is given to anyone who is about to undertake something large in their life. someone who is going to get married, someone who is going far away from home or someone who is going to be traveling.

there was a large bucket filled with flowers at the center of the table. also in the bucket were large piles of white yarn cut into 8 inch long pieces. one would go up to the bucket, grab a piece of yarn and take it to someone else to bless them. the person being blessed would raise their left hand and put it in front of their nose and mouth while holding their right hand outstretched.

the person blessing you would then move the string backwards and forwards on your hand while saying a blessing. they would then tie the yarn on your wrist and you would have to wear it for at least three days. i had a mess of yarn on my right hand that i will remove in a couple of hours but that i have worn for the past two and a half days. something inside of me won’t let me take it off even though everyone in the office wondered what it was.

after the yarn ceremony, we stood around aimlessly and chatted. someone took out the blue hymnal and a group of us stood in the corner singing. i hadn’t sang in four part harmony for at least the past year and something inside of me was quite dry.

we opened it up and six or seven of us sang. i sang tenor and my voice, while slightly rusty (i have sang karaoke but that’s a one person job, mennonite hymns are communal), i was able to follow along for the most part.

our voices rose and fell and the old songs came back and brought with them millions of memories. all those times i stood up and grabbed the blue book from the bench in front of me. all the zipping noise they made. all the times i opened up to a song and stood next to my mother and tried to sing. all those voices around me. the beautiful tenor that used to sit in the front. the bases that would sit somewhere in the middle on the right. the sopranos who would be all over carrying the melody. i remember all the song leaders we had when i was growing up. they all came back to me as choppy, happy visions and i smiled.

we sang ‘praise to god immortal praise’ which is number 91 in the blue book and is my grandfather’s favorite song. i asked that we sing this song because i wanted to remember them (they sit on the left side about two thirds of the way back). the song starts out and marches along. the tenor part is high for me in parts and my voice strained. i lifted my head, tightened my throat and breathed deeply. it was my sacrament for my ancestors.

the song ended and i inevitably had a tear in my eye and my throat was tight maybe not entirely because of the singing. i stood there for a moment in the heat and the darkness listening to people mumble and talk around me and i didn’t know quite where i was.

i could have really been anywhere for, when your eyes are following the notes, your brain is interpreting them, your voice is making them move and your memory is saturated, your soul’s home is everywhere.

i return and the world is happy to see me. it's a wonderful feeling.

the dog is the first to greet me and he runs into the hall and pees all over the floor and licks my face. i say hello to jack and julie and jo. they are all friendly and we smile and ask simple questions courteously.

i go to school the next morning and everyone in the office wants to know about laos. they all smile and ask questions and are sincerely interested. they want to know if it is developed, what the people are like and if i brought any candy back. i didn't because i couldn't find any.

the students meet me in the halls and in coffee shops and they come up to me and want to know what laos is like. did i meet any students? did i meet any girls i liked? they had a lot of questions and we smiled and exchanged pleasantries.

i played basketball and everyone was happy to see me. they all smiled and asked me about the trip and talked about how wonderful the game was on saturday that they played against a rival town. they won in the last second with a majestic shot from the corner. they were glad to have me back.

it's wonderful to come home and be loved. it's wonderful to feel like you're at home when you're just about as physically far away from your real home as is possible.

in the end, i really wonder what home is and if i could ever feel at home on, say, the internet. is this a community?

is this real?

one of the cr's from laos told me this:

last year they cleared 800,000 pieces of unexploded ordinance. it was a substantial amount.

if things continue at that rate, laos will be free from unexploded munitions that were placed by the us in only another 100 years. thank god for war and freedom.

i was lucky enough to b e put on the puke bus from ho chi minh city to long xuyen. i have an old lady in front of me with two small children. she only reserved one seat and they are all piled on one another with bags at their feet. she is currently leaning against the window and her children are standing on her making clicking sounds. they're about four and six. she has puked a total of 10 times since this five hour bus ride began and every time she vomits she makes this disturbing guttural sound that seems to shake the bus.

behind me is a group of young people who chatted me up a bit and wanted to learn more about an giang university. they had interesting things to say and have a glow about their face that only young people get when they're away from their parents and having fun with friends. no restraints, only freedom.

two of the four have puked a couple of times. i didn't really keep track and it always catches me quite off guard. the one girl is sitting directly behind me and, when she wants to puke, she'll lean forward, push the seat with her hand and let of a gushing whirlwind of partially digested food.

there is one lady who is sitting on the right side of the bus who gives advice to everyone.

'throw the puke out of the window'

someone else, 'it'll hit someone who's driving'

'no it won't' and the puke goes out the window and no one's sure if it hit anyone.

she is about fifty and has dyed her hair the color of a pumpkin. she is wearing pajamas that are the color off pumpkin pie. her lipstick is the color of cranberry and everything together reminds me of thanksgiving.

the return trip has been a normal travel day. it started early in the morning, about five thirty, and continues now, about seven thirty, about two hours from home. we drove down laotian roads from a small resort town to the airport. there was absolutely no traffic on the roads and we had to slow down considerably a number of times in order to avoid a cow. we arrived in the sleepy capital, had some breakfast and headed to the airport. i asked the country representative for laos and thailand where i would go after i checked in and he said, 'up the steps, turn right, turn left and it's the only gate in the airport. it's a very nice airport but it only really has one gate through which you proceed and walk onto the tarmac.

the flight was peaceful and i watched a group of french twenty-somethings talk about things i didn't understand. they were all confident and hairy and seemed to be interested in everything. too bad they're cheese eating surrender monkeys.

phenom phen also has a very nice airport. the inside is very modern and there are high ceilings and chrome and shiny things everywhere. everyone sits on small stool-like chairs that have interesting backs and interesting legs and they all look very modern and uncomfortable as they sip their three dollar coffee.

on the flight from cambodia to vietnam, we spent more time waiting on the runway than we did flying. as soon as you're in the air you're falling again.

returning to vietnam is wonderful. i'm in a place where i can talk to people and where i understand things. i'm comfortable again and made it a point to talk to everyone at the airport. in laos, i only knew how to say 'hello' and that was about all. i remember enjoying the thrill of being in another culture and feeling very vulnerable. this time i really didn't like it, it could have been because i didn't really feel vulnerable at all. the laotian people are some of the most peaceful and enjoyable people i've ever met. i was not bothered at all and want to return there and live forever eventually buying a nice motorcycle and scooting down the semi-populated streets on the way to my humble pizzeria that's butted up along side the river. i'd have to learn how to speak the language.

life here is considerably more hectic. the bus is packed and people are all moving and doing so at a feverish pace. the roads are congested and everything is in perpetual motion. for better or worse, i'm home.

we drove in a tuk tuk. a tuk tuk is a small vehicle made out of a motorcycle that can somehow haul about 10 people and another 10 tubes up hills and down valleys without killing anyone. it's really amazing and we all hung on for dear life and some of us were trapped inside instead of being able to hang on the outside and breath in all the fresh mountain air. we smothered inside.

we arrived at the bank of a large river. the stones on the bank were the same stones i remember lining the edges of the branch creek that flowed near my home as a child. those stones were smaller but they were smooth and rounded. that river ran into the ocean. the river we were standing next to also ran into the ocean and it passed my home in vietnam along the way.

we took our shirts off and began to float down the river on pink tubes. the river was majestic and slow. the rocks were fairly easy to avoid and the sun was bright. we floated, talked and enjoyed being in the water, part of nature, like being back in the womb.

the trip was long, about three hours, and most of it was spent watching other tourists and admiring the beauty of the mountains we were passing under. the sky above was blue and there weren't many clouds. my favorite thing to do was to lean all the way back in my tube with the top of my head in the water and paddle in a circle with one of my hands. my perspective would change from a sharp, violently shaped mountain to a flat, peaceful river, to a stand of trees with a bright sun above and then back to the other side of the river again. i did this often and it was beautiful each time.

there were other tourists and they were fascinating. this is kind of a 'tourist economic zone' and, since most people don't come to laos to visit, it is very rural and rustic, two things that today's backpacker is looking for. this place draws anyone who wants to come and experience the world in its rawest form. it draws anyone who is looking for what life used to be like a few hundred years ago.

the most surreal part of the trip was the ending. we ended our three hour and change float down the mekong and we pulled up on a rocky shore. there were large beds sitting in the water with spell-bound tourists sitting and sipping beer. there was a small hill with chairs and palm-leaf umbrellas shading the area. there was a small log hovering above the water with 10 or 15 children jumping in and out of the water and yelling at each other. we were standing on rocks, rounded, like the rocks of my childhood. there were spiked mountains across the river and the sun was hiding behind one of them making it look specifically holy. we stood there and didn't say anything. we stood there in the middle and watched but couldn't hear anything. there were two giant speakers playing techno music with its hypnotic beat and piercing snare. we stood there, not hearing anything, watching the mouths of the children open and close, watching them splash into the water, watching the water flow beside us and watching people chat around us but we didn't hear anything. we were supremely separated from the world and the culture and had been placed on a film set or in a video game or in one of those situations that we have created for ourselves after meddling too much with technology and never allowing ourselves to be true and close to nature where we would really be able to experience life. we need to be closer to the source of it all.

vangvien, mennonite central committe south east asian retreat 2004.

we drove three and a half hours north of the capital of loas and found ourselves in a slightly mountainous region. the drive was smooth and snaked through paved mountain roads past hills of odd vegetation and orangish-red clay. we passed small villages with people mulling around working and playing. the people of this region have wonderfully distinct faces that seem to have been given the characteristics of the mountains that surround them. their faces are hard, with small lines running through them. they are firm and determined. their eyes are the sky and they stare.

they are like all mountain people i've ever met. people in switzerland who walk up and down stony paths. people in virginia who walk on the trail. everyone who has been shapped by the mountains retains a wonderful quality about them, something peaceful but firm, something worn but sincere.

our bus pulled down a dirty lane and we ended up resting in a tiny slice of heaven. we sleep in small cottages nestled in forests cuddled beside a river that moves slowly and peacefully. there are hills off in the near distance. they are sharp and jagged. they look violent and ready like a knife.

we meet in a group of like minded people. we talk about things and almost always come to a wonderful censuses. we discuss religions and peace and how to work within contexts to achieve sustainable development and growth. none of this involves shoving things down people's throats which is what i appreciate.

we talked about what it meant to be a mennonite, where we came from. i couldn't answer well and said, lamely, that i remembered my great aunt sarah and my great aunt ella. they used to lay out quilts made of old cloth in their sitting room and they they used to prop it all up on an impossibly large contraption and sew it all together. they used to save everything and eat things that didn't look good. they used to garden and hang their clothes out on a long line after they washed it by hand. they line was propped up by a long stick that gripped the ground at an angle and the wind blew all the shirts and dresses and they looked beautiful as if they had their own life. i remember them working in the house canning things. they were all i could think of.

you see, i couldn't say what i thought was mennonite because i was influenced by every part of what a mennonite is ever since i was a child. if i was to pick out a specific part of being a mennonite, i would only be picking out something that i find wonderful inside of myself and it was too much of a selfish venture.

we talked about what was good about being mennonite and i said aunt sarah and aunt ella.

wish they could have come to laos to see the beauty. they would have probably stood next to the peaceful river and stared up at the violent mountains and maybe cracked a slight grin.

and then, out of no where, i ended up in laos.

i drove up to ho chi minh city and waited for my plane. it arrived on time and sitting in airports by myself is my least favorite pastime.

we took off and flew above the bustling noon-time city and, in a matter of minutes, were descending into cambodia's capital.

i was shocked as we descended. one could begin making out fields, roads and rivers. all of the sudden i realized that we were not more than a few kilometers from the capital and nothing was paved. there were only long grids of red dirt road running into one another and abruptly disappearing into the jungle. i stayed in the capital of cambodia only for a half of an hour and was up in the air again heading towards laos.

mcc is having a south-east asian meeting. i met a large group of my fellow mccers in cambodia by chance. it was a nice meeting and it is always wonderful meeting birds of the same feather.

we descended into laos and i talked to my new vietnamese friend. he worked for a microwave company and normally traveled to laos.

we fell from the sky, i thought of death and we finally glided to a stop in the fairly modern laos airport. we walked along an elevated sidewalk following a security guard and entered a customs room that was empty except for a handful of guards. we paid 30 dollars for the permission to stay in this fine country for a couple of days, picked up our baggage and left.

laos is a sleepy place and vientiane, the capital, is its peaceful leader. the population of the capital here is the exact same as the population of long xuyen, believe it or not. laos is a country of only 4 million people and things move at a very restful pace. we hopped in a bus and drove down very quiet streets. we passed nice, sleepy houses and people drove by us.

the most incredible thing about this place, besides the fact that is the country that holds the record for the amount of bombs dropped on it per person, is its pagodas. we passed a number of pagodas and they are ornate, beautiful and sincerely defy description. they are colorful and every square inch of them is embellished in some way with some sort of statue or carving. the colors are incredible, yellows, reds and oranges.

i've been here an hour and know nothing about the place. tomorrow we take a 3 hour or so bus to some mountain. it is supposed to be one of the most peaceful places on earth.

blank.

ode to the banana lady:

in the hot afternoon sun you stand
watching your bananas
burn

they sit on an old grill
about as old as the conical hat
that rests on your head

you turn them and watch them warm in the flame

students pass with empty minds and stomachs
you egg them on
buy your bananas before they get cold
they are not burnt
perfect

'buy one for 10 cents!'
'buy two for 20!'

you cry to them but most do not hear

the bananas are well browned
they are perfect except for their dusty taste
the first time you put one in your mouth
it tastes like
paper
or
cardboard

inside, however, is a fleshy mess
the banana retains its normal, snot like texture
it is still full of life

teach us, oh banana lady
teach us how to cook
teach us how to live
and teach us how to remain fleshy
inside
and how to do so forever

kite flying is a popular pastime here. i was sitting in a coffee shop with one of my best friends this afternoon and we watched children fly their kites.

the coffee shop was located next to a busy river. the river was brown and busy as anything. boats moved up and down the river with ease hauling rice husks to be used for firing bricks, rice, rice stalks and anything else that is more efficient to haul on the river.

on the banks of the river were large bands of bare chested children playing with kites. their kites are ingenious. a child will take a plastic bag, three pieces of thin bamboo and a long piece of plastic to serve as the tail. they will find a long piece of string and wind it around an empty beer can.

they stand by the edge of the river and prepare to launch their kite. they are proud. one child will hold the kite along the side of the river (which is flanked by large trees) and another child will be far along with the string to the kite stretched taunt. the child holding the kite will let go and the other will run with every bit of energy in their body.

the kite will soar, fall, soar and finally reach a limited peak. the children will scream and shout as the kite soars in the air with their improvised plastic bag acting as a ballast. they stand on the side of the river and watch their kite. they watch and wait.

the wind stops and their kite begins to sink. the boy holding the string pulls and pulls and tries to keep their kite afloat. he runs backwards, through traffic, making sure to hold the string above the heads of drivers. eventually their kite sinks into the river and is driven over by a boat. the string is torn and nothing is left. they walk home.

kite flying is very professional here. that same afternoon i watched a 20 something male try to fix his kite string (which was, i might add, the bought variety and not the kind of kite made out of a plastic bag).

Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height
Let's go fly a kite
And send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite
Let's go fly a kite!

i felt obligated to include these lyrics from my strawberry dream, sugar plum fairy blessed childhood.

traffic here is culturally controlled chaos.

about 99% of all traffic is either bicycles or motorcycles. there is the odd car thrown in but traffic simply would not work if there were more cars involved. everything is much more convenient on a motorcycle.

when attempting to turn left, for example, one will be confronted with a mass of vehicles coming in the opposite direction. this mass of vehicles will be manned by people who have serious looks on their face and hair twirling in all directions. in order to move through this sea of humans on motorized vehicles, one must blow their horn incessantly. one also must guide your motorcycle into on-coming traffic ever so gently. no sporadic movement is allowed. everything must be smooth as silk. with your motorcycle pointed towards traffic, you then have to make your way through the stream that is coming towards you. there will, on a busy street, be a solid mass of traffic about six motorcycle's thick. one must negotiate each row of motorcycles separately.

first there is the outside line. these are the people who drive the fastest and one must be wary. you nudge your bike towards them and they eventually give in and swerve around you. you're now on the next lane of traffic. they are the professionals who drive quickly, but not too fast. they're normally the easiest to negotiate with and will quickly give you room. then there's the row of traffic mostly occupied by students riding older motorcycles. they're also not much of a problem. the fourth row is made up of older people and they're a bit more dangerous. one must be very careful and make sure that they make eye contact with you before you intrude on their territory. the last two rows are bicycles and odds and ends. they're not too hard, but make sure to watch out for bicycles hauling trailers full of goods. they have no way of stopping and there's nothing like getting hit by a half a ton of carrots traveling at 10 miles an hour to make you feel
vulnerable.

you have turned. congratulations. you have, hopefully, not run into anyone. it's really quite amazing that a mass of probably about 50 people will end up swerving around you.

then there's round-a-bouts. since it's all about merging, when one approaches a round-a-bout, one must remember to look like they're in a hurry. no one really pays attention to anyone else unless they look like they're trying to go somewhere important. approach the round-a-bout with a bit of aggression.

two masses of traffic converge at a round-a-bout. parts of one mass want to turn and others want to go straight. parts of the other mass want to turn and others want to keep going too. first you must negotiate within your own mass for positioning. if you want to go straight, you must swerve to avoid all those turning. if you want to turn after the round-a-bout, you must get the inside lane for efficiency. once you have negotiated within your own mass, you are now free to negotiate with the other mass.

if there is someone who is in a hurry, you must let them pass. normally these are young people or professionals. if no one is in a hurry, you must look at the quantity of motorcycles heading in your direction. if they outnumber your team, you must wait. if you outnumber them, however, you're free to proceed. everything happens and people swerve, brake and blow their horns. no one wears an expression unless an accident or a near accident happens.

if a near accident happens, both parties are supposed to smile. the first time i experienced this, i was truly frustrated. i remember clearly, it was a balmy day a few months ago and i met an old lady at a round-a-bout. she swerved in front of me even though i clearly had the go ahead (clearly here means clearly in my opinion and surely not in her's). she swerved in front of me and we both stopped abruptly. she looked at me, smiled and my face must have conveyed nothing but frustration.

something has changed inside of me. just today i was going around a round-a-bout heading off to meet a friend for coffee. i was met by a girl heading towards me. i thought i had the right a way and she thought she did. she swerved out, i swerved out. she swerved in, i swerved in. we eventually met in the middle after stopping inches from one another. i looked up at her and gave her a huge smile and she smiled back. i drove away shocked at how another culture can truly change you in so many ways.

the school is always humming. there are about 6000 students in the same area as my highschool which only had about 350. i work in the office and enjoy looking out the window to watch the students go about their daily lives.

there is always a mob of students between every class. every time the gigantic, rusted bell is rung by the security guards, students flood out of classrooms and stroll past the groups of old ladies squatting by the side of the road selling different kinds of snacks. the male students normally nip off to the local coffee shop and have a cup of coffee between class.

there are also dance practices that go on right below my office. girls will prance around in circles with flags and what not as men run back and forth with arms outstretched. this morning one group practiced with the same song for about three hours. i went outside to watch them argue about a miniscule point in their dance. one of the men wanted to have their hands clenched as fists at one point and one of the women who was taking charge was insisting that they remained pointed.

there is also the ubiquitous gym class. with so many students and not much space, the gym class happens everywhere. every day right before lunch a class runs around the ad building. the students all wear the same uniform with the color changing depending on their year. all of the girls wear the uniform but with a wide variety of different hats. some of the gym classes involve the long jump, shot putting (nothing like seeing a 5 foot tall girl who can't weigh more than 90 pounds try to shot-put), volleyball, high jump and badminton.

today was a big day for the long jump. they all gathered around a pit of sand and the men went first. they jumped with abandon and landed in huge clouds of dust. they weren't measuring the jumps, just practicing. the crowd clapped as they landed. the girls went next and were, well, dainty in their effort. they would jump a foot or so and none produced the same cloud of dust as the men.

all continues normally. teachers meet each other in the halls, exchange greetings and go off to work. administrators sit around a large table sipping hot tea and talking about how to make sure the school's going in the right direction. in all my years, i never thought i'd be working in a school. my mom always worked there and i always wanted to be something else. i wanted to be something that involved passions and adventure, like a writer or an astronaut or a paleontologist.

the fourth year students have been away for the past two months. they come back next week and we have to finish our american literature class. we're studying the 'great gatsby'.

i was informed that i would have to finish 21 periods with them in five days. that's a little more than four periods a day with them talking about a book that they surely didn't read. i'm going to spend an entire week standing in front of 110 students with a microphone in my hand and a pink, photocopied version of the book and be frustrated.

i hope to get through the class with all of them knowing a bit more about the roaring 20's, swingers and the subtleties of power, but who knows what will really happen. more than likely i'll end up scolding some of the students from coming in late, teaching with a boisterous voice and broad gestures and just trying to keep them all awake. it's horrible to teach people things they don't really want learn.

i now empathize with all of my former teachers.

i was napping this afternoon when the phone rang. i rolled around a bit, covered my head with my pillow and tried to sleep through it. the dog, however, was having none of it. he had a horrible habit of whining when the phone rings and running around on the bed. not being able to sleep through his antics, i got up and walked over to the phone.

the head of the library was on the other end and he had pressing news. there was another mennonite in long xuyen. i think that's how he phrased it, 'there is another mennonite in long xuyen.'

another mennonite in long xuyen? could this be possible or was i still dreaming? why wasn't i previously informed?

in long xuyen, if any foreigners come down, we're warned far in advance. i knew that there was going to be a group of foreigners coming down here for a day or so to give a lecture on going to school in america but i didn't know who it was going to be.

it turned out to be thaddeus a. hostetler who now works for the institute of international education. he was giving the lecture and was only going to be here for a bit. he used to work for mcc in hanoi.

i threw on some clothes and washed my face and ran out of the door. i kick started my old, black motorcycle and sped off down dusty lanes. what a strange connection to have with people who meet each other in a strange country in a small town with dirt roads. for a moment, it felt like i knew thaddeus my whole life when, in reality, i ate indian food with him and his wife one time in hanoi.

we cling onto what we have.

speaking club and we talked about the development of china.

the history between china and vietnam has been nothing but tumultuous. china has treated vietnam as a colony for at least a thousand years. there's an expression in vietnamese "1000 years fighting against china, 100 years fighting against the french and 30 years fighting against the americans." china has been nothing but ruthless to vietnam.

however, currently china is nothing more than a beckon of light for vietnam. china's development has been an incredible inspiration for vietnam because they follow a similar system. both of them have done their best to join the wto but both of them have actually fought against the wto in their own special way. they both change laws but the changes are very slow. what ends up happening is that vietnam and china appear as if they're opening up at an incredible pace when really they're opening up more slowly.

this brings in more investment and the country develops quickly and they're still able to foster their internal industries, something that america did after their revolution from britain.

i asked the speaking club about the relationship between china and vietnam. seeing as how they followed similar doctrine (described by some as marx and smith in a blender), i assumed it would be strong. the members of the club looked up and frowned. no, china was, as one member put it, 'pragmatic'. they only liked vietnam when they had something to offer china.

for a moment i wondered what it must be like to be a developing nation in this modern world. it has to be a terrifying experience. for example, china is an exception with 1.3 billion people and a well trained and educated working class. vietnam, on the other hand, only boasts 0.08 billion people. they feel as if they're alone, like the world is fighting against them and they have nothing but an up-hill battle. what a lonely feeling.

going up to hai ninh was a wonderful language session. one of the barriers to development is different dialects around the country. i come from a place where one language is spoken and constantly updated by the cultural politburo of mtv. here, things are quite different.

there is the standard vietnamese which is located in and around hanoi. it is a sharp, crisp language with lots of 'z' sounds. the tones are very precise and are said sharply. i find it impossible to understand.

in the south, there is a very different dialect. the sounds are all dragged out and there are lots of 'y' sounds. the tones float around a bit more and two of the tones are very similar and no one bothers to distinguish them in any way. it's much easier to understand simply because i've become used to it.

in the middle of the country there is a very different language. everyone i talked to said this language is the most difficult to understand and, after meeting with the basketball team from hue, i'd have to agree. the team from hue spoke a dialect that was virtually impossible to understand. they used words that are not found in the vietnamese of the north or the south. their tones were completely backwards and not always consistent. my basketball team even had a hard time understanding them. there were times when they would have to 'interpret' for me and there were even a couple of times when i understood words they didn't understand and i said them with a southern accent. i find the language impossible.

on top of all of that, there are languages that are very different. in hai ninh, the majority of the population is chinese. they spoke a strange version of chinese that had been fostered after years and years away from the mainland in their own tight-knit community. one of the basketball players knew standard chinese but found it impossible to understand their dialect. then there's khmer in the south. there's cham. there are 56 different ethnic groups all speaking different languages.

i grew up in a place where the only dialect i was exposed to was pennsylvania dutch and one could only feasibly make fun of the drawl of the southerners. in a place where there are so many different languages and dialects, it is amazing so much actually gets done.

i sat in a coffee shop and there was a michael jackson video on. for a moment i remembered he married elvis' daughter. for a moment my head almost exploded.

back in that small village, there was much to do. at first, i was afraid i would be horribly bored and only brought a sketch pad and a pencil. i thought i would end up doodling the days away waiting to play basketball. such was not the case.

the village population was primarily ethnic chinese. they would sit around in tight circles on old wooden chairs and smoke cigarettes and mumble things. i, of course, didn't understand a word of it but it was fun watching them laugh.

all of the village's life revolved around the local pagoda. there was always something going on and the incense that wafted up from the main worship area made the building look as if it was perpetually smoldering. they had a large, metal pot to burn incense and it was always full. the pot was so full that, one night, when i rubbed my bare leg against it, i got a slight burn because of all the heat of the incense sticks.

one of the main events that i particularly enjoyed was the chinese chess competitions. to say that people took these events seriously is an incredible understatement.

there was a giant chinese chess board propped up against the wall of a building on the other side of the basketball court. it was about six feet high and the pieces all hung from nails and were moved by a small, bald man who walked with a stick. the board was in the sun and there were a handful of people around it.

most of the people were all huddled in the shade of the buildings surrounding the basketball court. they were all sitting on benches and tables and smoking cigarettes and speaking in chinese. it took me a long time to realize what was going on. there was a man who would speak through two large speakers on the other side of the court but i had no idea where he actually was. he was shouting out the different moves of the players. at first, i thought the two people playing were two of the old men standing by the board. i was still puzzled by the microphone.

then i realized that, in the room behind us, there was a very aggressive game of chinese chess going on. two men were secluded in this room. the windows were shut and a couple of old men stood watch by the door and shooed small children away when they got too close. the third man in the room was the referee who would also call out the different moves over the sound system.

i ambled over to the crowd and picked a place to sit. everyone was pointing and speaking in chinese, i assumed they were giving advice. the man next to me started up a conversation in vietnamese and i asked him about strategy. he told me exactly what the red team should do if they wanted to win the game. he gave a very detailed description. then, after he was finished, another old man who didn't look like he was paying any attention turned around and started shouting at the man in vietnamese that his instructions were wrong. they had a bit of a discussion in vietnamese and, when it turned a bit more heated, shifted to chinese.

since the board was so far away, people were always being told to move out of the line of sight. when a motorcycle would park in front of the crowd, the mood turned incredibly giggly. the word for the rook in chinese chess is the same as the classifying word for any vehicle. so, when a motorcycle was in front of the board, everyone would immitate the man who shouted out the movements of the pieces over the microphone. everyone would yell 'xe lui!', which means either 'rook moves back' or 'vehicle move back.' it was hilarious watching all of these old men giggle and immitate the announcer.

when the game was over, the two men would emerge from the room. inside the room, no one knew who was red or who was blue. when they emerged, the winner would throw up his hands and all of his friends would cheer. the looser would shrug his shoulder and be consoled by his friends. after the game, everyone was giving advice to the person who lost and everyone was offering to buy things for the winner. that is how you spend an afternoon in a small village of ethnically chinese people on the coast of vietnam.

my ankle has swollen in a disgusting way. it is purple all over the bottom and the skin has enveloped the bone. it looks like a pig hoof.

i told a number of people here about it and they decided i should have it fixed. i was given much advice as to where i should go to have it fixed and eventually settled on a friendly teacher who knew much about oriental medicine.

i found him in a coffee shop early in the morning. he said he would be happy to fix my ankle and, when i asked him when he had free time, he said he could do it right now if someone just went and bought some sort of oil. someone from the table volunteered and went off and was back in a matter of minutes, not even long enough for the dust to settle.

he bought 'white tiger balm' and i sat back in a small, plastic chair. the teacher began to apply the balm all over the swollen parts of my ankle. he applied it with vigor and it hurt.

he then stood up and grabbed my ankle. i was about to fall off my small plastic chair when he really started to work. he pulled at the smallest toe which hurt slightly. he pulled at the next toe which hurt more. he pulled at the middle toe and the pain was excruciating. i didn't think it could get any more painful.

he grabbed my heel with one hand and the base of my foot with the other hand. he began to twist my foot around quickly and aggressively. he was twisting it in all the ways it didn't want to go and it was arguably more painful than the actual experience of twisting my ankle. he then started to push my toes up and down quickly which was equally painful.

he hovered over me and knew exactly what he was doing. he said nothing except, 'this foot is huge.' he asked for a piece of paper because he didn't have a good enough grip and placed it on my toes. he then went back to work twisting my foot left and right and up and down in every way the sprain didn't want to be twisted.

i laid back in my plastic chair and could barely stand the pain. my face contorted and my hands must have been white gripping the legs of the chair. i let out low groaning noises, something of a growl. everyone giggled around me and people stopped their bicycles and motorbikes to watch my writhing.

after about four minutes of acute pain the doctor/teacher stopped. by now the white tiger balm was burning my ankle and every ounce of me was glad the event was over with. he told me to stand up and walk normally. i did and, amazingly enough, my ankle barely hurt.

i walked around the coffee shop with a stunned grin on my face. i didn't quite believe the fact that he could have cured my ankle with a small bottle of white tiger balm and lots of tugging and pushing. he says i have to meet him in his office tomorrow morning for one more session and then i'll be able to play basketball again.

the last day of the basketball tournament.

we were playing in the honorable mention game and we had one player that was quite good. we were playing a team that was also good and doing so in the middle of the afternoon when the sun is at its most brutal state. i sat on the bench and was not nervous at all. i simply had to give advice in vietnamese to the different players and clap when things went well.

in the first five minutes our best player went down with, you guessed it, a sprained ankle. he writhed around on the ground while the crowd laughed and i made sure to go and get some ice for him. i sat on the ground with him as he winced in pain.

so, we lost by about 30 points and the other team kept their starters in for the whole game making sure to let us know that we were not going to have any chance of wining.

we all boarded the bus at 5:00 in the afternoon for the 12 hour drive home.

the bus ride home was quite an experience. first of all there were 13 of us in a 12 passenger bus. secondly, we had all of the extra things that the young people bought for their family. one thing vietnamese people do when they go to another part of vietnam is to buy lots of snacks and candy from wherever they visit. every person under the age of 20 had a couple of large bags full of candy and dried fruit to bring back to their family and we had to find room for all of the bags.

i tried to sleep figuring that it would be more comfortable than a concrete floor. sleep came quickly. after twitching and turning for a few hours of bliss, i was woken up by some youngsters poking around my ear. they woke me up and i had to explain to everyone why i was sleeping. you see, if possible, you're not supposed to sleep and enjoy the trip. the dirty jokes and bags of candy under my feet were not as delightful as a few hours of rest.

the driver was slow but safe.

at about midnight, when everyone was asleep, the driver woke us up and told us all to get out. we were going to have rice porridge. not a soul was allowed to stay on the van and we all stumbled out and sat down for an hour of rice porridge and iced tea. i don't think anyone was hungry except the driver but we all crawled back in the van and fell back to sleep.

most of us fell asleep and some snored peacefully. i was sleeping next to an oldish man who suddenly developed a sneezing problem. i would drift off and he would lay on my shoulder. a few minutes later, after i was sleeping soundly, he would lift his head and scream/sneeze in my ear. the first time he did it i almost punched him out of fear. here i was sleeping soundly only to be woken up by a scream in my right ear. the kind of sneeze that starts off as a rumble and then soars in pitch and ends with blaze of sound. aaaaAAAAAAAACCCHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! i didn't get more than 20 minutes of sleep between sneezes.

also, the man directly behind me had an interesting knack for burping. he always burped in successions of three. burp... burp... buuuuuurrrrrp. you could set your watch to his burping. one time he only burped twice and i was confused but only had to wait about twenty seconds for the third burp.

the marathon trip ended and my knees and back ached. we all crawled out of the van in the middle of long xuyen and stumbled to our houses in the middle of the night. it was a warm night and i was glad to be home. i walked down the dusty road leading to campus b and climbed over the security gate becasue i didn't want to wake the guards. i limped my way to my room, opened my door, was greeted by the dog who began licking my legs and arms and wagging his tail and whimpering a bit. i showered and slept on a soft bed under a clean mosquito net until 10:00 when i woke out of guilt and slumbered through my work.

yesterday was the big day. we played in a game that would decide whether we played in the final game for first or second prize or whether or not we played in the third prize/honorable mention game. no one wants to play in the honorable mention game.

the game was set for early in the morning and we were all excited. we woke up at 5 and ate noodles in our uniforms in a tiny chinese cafe on the side of a road that was completely controlled by a large lady who smiled wonderfully. she would tell her husband what to do and he would quickly comply. he was tall and skinny.

we went to the court to practice before the sun rose. the other team had yet to arrive. we were all tense.

the other team came and we began to fret. they were tall and had tattoos. they had dyed hair and muscles. they were basketball players. we watched them out of the corners of our eyes as we warmed up. we watched every lay-up and shot we could. i think they did the same thing. the worst part of the morning was warming up.

the game began. we knew the stakes were high and the tip-off was between me and a giant wearing jersey number 4 who had an 'nba' tattoo on his shoulder. on his other shoulder he had a tattoo of the number four surrounded by barbed wire. he was serious and won the tip-off.

after the game began, everything was alright. the beginning tension all dissipated and we were simply playing basketball. it's like you're in another world playing in a sporting event in front of a couple of hundred people. they all cheer and yell and clap and the announcer says things but you really don't even notice them. you only notice when you're sitting still and someone's shooting a foul shot.

i was guarded by that same giant with a number 4 tattoo on his shoulder. he would shove and push but i was able to play fairly well.

at half time we were only trailing by two points and we thought we might be able to pull off an upset. the other team looked a bit nervous and we were feeling calm. there was one problem. i was too aggressive in the first half and already had four fouls. the other team knew this and constantly tried to drive on me and make me foul again. the coach of our team kept me in and told me simply and bluntly, 'don't foul anymore.' i didn't foul again the whole game which was a slight miracle.

the second half was exciting but both teams were tired. the sun was scorching and sapping us of our energy. in the middle of the fourth quarter, after being down by as many as 10 points, we came within 2 points. we were really going to do it. we were excited and ran back and fourth and played with all of our heart. there i was, in the middle of a basketball game that was being taken very seriously in a small town on the coast of vietnam sweating and yelling to my teammates. for a couple of minutes, everything seemed incredibly normal. it felt like i really belonged there and like i was really accepted. for a moment it was beautiful.

the half was coming to an end and we were down by four points. number four was shooting a foul shot and we were waiting for a rebound. he shot, missed and i grabbed the rebound. i figured we had about a minute and a half left so i went charging down the court. i dribbled by two players and only had one player to pass before i could score an easy lay-up. everything was spinning. the crowd wasn't there and i wasn't thinking about anything. i dribbled towards the net. i shifted to the right and then crossed over left. i was passing the defender when everything stopped. my left foot, when i went to plant it, twisted and crunched. all of my energy and momentum came to a sliding halt on the hot concrete. i slid to a stop, the ball rolled into the crowd and the whistle blew. i laid on the ground holding my ankle and the crowd started to laugh. they laughed and laughed and each giggle was a sharp blow. that may have hurt more than my ankle.

i couldn't properly walk and some people had to help me off the court. i was truly in incredible pain. i sat on the bench with my foot in the air and tried to find some ice. people were paying too much attention to the game to care.

the game ended and we lost by 6 points. we went back to our room which is in the middle of the complex and was surrounded by large crowds of people and rested. i laid down on a bamboo mat in the corner and asked for ice. the coach and older players that normally take such good care of me had completely forgotten about my existence. i was not there i did not exist. they were talking quickly about how we played well and how it was respectable and how third or fourth prize would be alright. i laid on the bamboo mat and propped my foot on a bucket. i shut my eyes.

i was running down a small cobble stone street in sevilla. it was late in the afternoon on a hot sunday. i usually ran in sevilla when most of my friends were busy. it was early january and things were quiet. i was at home alone with my senora. she had her own things to do so i basically walked around town all day. i was very lonely.

i ran down the street. it was the end of my run and i was almost home. i ran along side a row of cars and then everything stopped. i was all of the sudden on the ground in the middle of a cobble stone road looking up at the sky. my arm was bleeding and i was heaving for breath. it turned out that someone had opened their car door just a bit as i passed. the lady was very nice and asked to take me to the doctor but i said it was no problem and walked home.

i walked home down a small alley and cried. i was tired and hurt. i was alone. i cried as i walked down the street and i couldn't help it.

i was still sweating on my bamboo mat and staring up at the tin roof. the roof had holes in it and the beams that supported it were weak. my foot ached and throbbed and no one listened to my pleads for ice. everyone was too busy reminiscing about the game. i was in a room with 20 some people in a pagoda with a few hundred people milling about and i was more alone than i have ever been. i was one person floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean and i wanted to cry.

things are chaotic here and very competitive in a friendly way. that makes everything a bit odd.

i'm sitting in a dusty internet cafe in a small town on the coast surrounded by young people of both sexes talking to people on the internet. they are all very attractive, the boys and the girls, and they sit next to each other and talk to people in other cities around vietnam about who knows what. chatting has become quite a phenomenon in vietnam. i have read articles about people finding spouses on the internet but never believed it until i met a very attractive girl who lives in long xuyen. she is young and met her 36 year old austrailian husband to be while chatting. they had an internet relationship for a few months and he stopped by. while he was here he proposed. they're going to get married soon enough. they chat and i rest from my morning of playing in the biggest basketball tournament in vietnam.

we are in one of two groups of male teams. we played our first game this morning against a team from ho chi minh city.

the game didn't start until 7:30 but we rose before five. the room was electric as people took down mosquito nets and shook me awake. we went to eat noodles in our uniforms and then trotted to the court. the other team arrived and we warmed up opposite one another. the other teams from our division were there to scout. it was an incredibly weird sensation having people size you up for competition. it felt like every dribble and shot was being invisibly measured and ranked by hundreds of eyes. the stands were packed with people, not as many as for a night game, but a lot none the less. children sat in packs on the sidelines and the speakers blared names.

we were all introduced (my name is pronounced 'chon') and the game began with me at the position of center.

the referee tossed the ball high in the air and i batted it to a teammate and we started to run. i have never truly experienced any actual competition with spectators in my life. it was a horribly stressful experience. my stomach churned constantly. i tried to play it all off by being very casual but it didn't help that most of the spectators would try to chat with me when i got close by. i sang a song in vietnamese at a coffee shop last night and word has gotten around. the song was called 'xe dap oi' and people would chant that when i scored.

i did fairly well and the other team wasn't as good as we expected. the announcer would give a running commentary on what was going on. he would say 'vao khong?' (is it in?) when the shot was floating through the air and then 'vao!' if it went in or 'khong vao!' if it didn't go in. also, if someone would score he would say 'write two points down for chon!' (or whoever else scored).

it's a lot easier playing when you're winning. i can't imagine the experience will be the same tomorrow morning when we play the dreaded team from 'phan thiet'. they are a team made up of semi-professional basketball players from around the coastal area here. they are all tall, slim and very athletic. they also have somehow gotten a player from malaysia to play on their team. if we lose there the best we can hope for is third place. if we win, we have a shot at second or first though i have heard that one team in the other bracket has imported players from ho chi minh city who are paid to play. i met one of them and he makes 300 dollars a month playing basketball. i make 100 a month teaching.

we'll rest this afternoon on our bamboo mats. i'll play more chinese chess and have people make fun of how poorly i play and, of course, we'll sit in coffee shops for hours.

things are chaotic here and very competitive in a friendly way. that makes everything a bit odd.

i'm sitting in a dusty internet cafe in a small town on the coast surrounded by young people of both sexes talking to people on the internet. they are all very attractive, the boys and the girls, and they sit next to each other and talk to people in other cities around vietnam about who knows what. chatting has become quite a phenomenon in vietnam. i have read articles about people finding spouses on the internet but never believed it until i met a very attractive girl who lives in long xuyen. she is young and met her 36 year old austrailian husband to be while chatting. they had an internet relationship for a few months and he stopped by. while he was here he proposed. they're going to get married soon enough. they chat and i rest from my morning of playing in the biggest basketball tournament in vietnam.

we are in one of two groups of male teams. we played our first game this morning against a team from ho chi minh city.

the game didn't start until 7:30 but we rose before five. the room was electric as people took down mosquitoe nets and shook me awake. we went to eat noodles in our uniforms and then trotted to the court. the other team arrived and we warmed up opposite one another. the other teams from our division were there to scout. it was an incredibly weird sensation having people size you up for competition. it felt like every dribble and shot was being invisibly measured and ranked by hundreds of eyes. the stands were packed with people, not as many as for a night game, but a lot none the less. children sat in packs on the sidelines and the speakers blared names.

we were all introduced (my name is pronounced 'chon') and the game began with me at the position of center.

the referee tossed the ball high in the air and i batted it to a teamate and we started to run. i have never truly experienced any actual competition with spectators in my life. it was a horribly stressful experience. my stomach churrned constantly. i tried to play it all off by being very casual but it didn't help that most of the spectators would try to chat with me when i got close by. i sang a song in vietnamese at a coffee shop last night and word has gotten around. the song was called 'xe dap oi' and people would chant that when i scored.

i did fairly well and the other team wasn't as good as we expected. the announcer woudl give a running commentary on what was going on. he would say 'vao khong?' (is it in?) when the shot was floating through the air and then 'vao!' if it went in or 'khong vao!' if it didn't go in. also, if someone would score he would say 'write two points down for chon!' (or whoever else scored).

it's a lot easier playing when you're winning. i can't imagine the experience will be the same tomorrow morning when we play the dreaded team from 'phan thiet'. they are a team made up of semi-professional basketball players from around the coastal area here. they are all tall, slim and very athletic. they also have somehow gotten a player from malaysia to play on their team. if we lose there the best we can hope for is third place. if we win, we have a shot at second or first though i have heard that one team in the other bracket has imported players from ho chi minh city who are paid to play. i met one of them and he makes 300 dollars a month playing basketball. i make 100 a month teaching.

we'll rest this afternoon on our bamboo mats. i'll play more chinese chess and have people make fun of how poorly i play and, of course, we'll sit in coffee shops for hours.

we went to bed in a small pagoda. it was beautiful and peaceful and we woke up before the morning prayers. the front of the pagoda is two golden pillars that stand under a tall wooden sign painted gold and red. the inside of the pagoda is squat. the roof hangs low and the smell of incense lingers and hangs and falls and mixes with the breath of monks and people as they walk in and breath.

we slept on the floor. the whole basketball team was lying in neat rows in a room that resembled a barn. the roof was tin and high. we rolled out bamboo mats and spent the better part of an hour setting up mosquito nets. my net was pink and was to be shared with two of my friends.

we slept next to each other and woke up many times in the night. i used a dirty pair of jeans as a pillow. i could only really sleep in two different positions. i rested on my left side and on my back but couldn't go to sleep. after a long bout with the floor, i finally drifted off into a semi-slumber. i woke up many times because the mosquitoes had found a way into our pink protective net and because someone would move and we were smashed together like small fish in an iced crate. few times in my life have i woken up to find another man cuddling me. this was all very common and no one complained.

we woke up at 5 in the morning, before the sun. we walked out to the basketball court and practiced under the lights. i could barely move but we practiced for an hour and a half, ending when the prayer bells could be heard from the waking pagoda. we walked to breakfast through the pagoda, wafting smoke and breathing in prayers. meals with this group is fascinating. we all sit down, yell out our orders, receive our food from a frantic vendor, eat and order more. before eating, everyone has a purely famished look on their face. after only fifteen minutes or so, everyone is leaning against something and staring off into space.

this afternoon we have our first match. we have singled out one team, the group from nha trang, that will present the most problems. we all walk around in shorts and are actual athletes. i've never been an athlete in my entire life. i've always been on the outside of the whole circle. i've never had muscular thighs and bulging bicepts. for one time in my life people think i am athletic and it is hilarious.

out of the blue i ended up in a tiny town just south of nha trang playing in a vietnamese basketball tournament.

we left at 630 this morning. it was a hot morning and we all gathered in one of the main coffee shops in town. the group that was going to head up to this small town whose name i still don't know was a rag-tag group of youngsters and old vets.

the young people are the kind of people who fear nothing. they are the young people who have had rough lives. they sit in the back of the van and tell dirty stories and talk about girlfriends. they smile and make crude jokes. they are wonderful people and i'm pleased to understand them.

the older people are basketball vets. they all have played since they were children and are always doling out advice. they are nice people and i play basketball with them three times a week.

the idea of going to a basketball tournament all the way up in the middle of vietnam had been brewing for a long while. i never thought i would be invited because i didn't think they would let a foreigner play in the tournament. evidently some calls were made and i am good to go.

so, after a 12 hour bus ride and about 187 dirty jokes, we arrived in a tiny, dusty town on the beach. we came at night and watched some of our competition practice. the other teams have come from all over vietnam and are here to claim the large gold trophy that sits at one end of the court always under the watchful eye of the organizers.

we practiced for a bit and then ate supper. the practice, which took place late at night, was attended by a number of youngsters from around town. they all stood around us and smiled and laughed and we were celebrities. i wonder what it will be like for an actual game.

the air around here is full of excitement. this tournament has pitted some of the biggest cities in vietnam against one another and i am here to take part. it should be interesting.

the british ambassador came to long xuyen and i wasn't invited.

he was a nice looking man and had about four different names. no, they weren't titles, they were four different names. like i woudl call myself 'jonathan david aeschliman moyer landis'. i kind of like the ring of that.

they had meetings and anyone who was british in long xuyen was invited to attend. we have two british people here to offset the two americans (and one person from holland just to mix us all up).

the americans staged a silent protest and ate at a small rice shop while everyone else ate at a high class restaurant. the americans did not feel like they were being treated properly by a fellow 'coalition of the wiling' member.

relations will thaw this evening and all three nations will eat together and discuss important things like food, relationships and the weather.

and then there was a game between long xuyen and can tho. we played basketball and we lost but it was close and i sweated and had to sit down in the end.

the can tho team was incredible. they were large and tough and we were all scared. the younger players on the long xuyen team kept coming up to me and telling me how big all the other players were and how i would have such a hard time winning.

the can tho team came up to me and told me that they were so excited to meet me because they had read about me in the article and they kept calling me teacher, teacher, teacher and i felt uncomfortable but smiled and shuffled my feet a bit.

then we played. they were, as my team projected, big. we fought hard and there were a number of close calls and i scored some points but missed a couple of free throws which i should have made and which, in retrospect, would have won the game for us.

it came down to the end of the game and i lumbered down the court and floated a shot that would have won the game when i actually should have passed it off to an older shorter man who was more open but doesn't always hit his shots. it hit the rim, rolled around and refused to fall in.

then one of their large, athletic, greek-like players ran down the court and tossed up the ball carelessly but it went in because the gods were on their sides and the good team never wins.

every day in the mekong is like living in a furnace. the heat seems to pour down like syrup and covers you and doesn't let you move as you should. an accurate assessment of the weather each day would either be 'hot' or 'hot with rain. everyone seems to take this incredible uncomfort with ease.

today, however, is quite different. today, for the first time since i've been here, people are actually admitting that it is hot. i didn't quite notice a difference, every day is the same sweltering misery, but everyone else seemed to be in on a joke. the coffee shop waitress, the photocopy man, the lady that sweeps the halls, they all claimed, with a frown on their face, that today was hot.

so, today is officially hot. today is so hot that people living in the heat all year long say it is hot. today must be something like 130 degrees. the sun must have moved a bit closer or gotten a bit more hot overnight and we are all suffering through it. i look forward to the rainy season when at least there is a slight breeze at times but even then i will be miserably sliding around in a slimy rain coat that doesn't cover the bottom of my sopping wet pants.