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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Saturday, September 25, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, September 20, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Friday, September 17, 2004
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, September 10, 2004
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.
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.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
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.
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.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Saturday, September 04, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, September 03, 2004
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…
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…
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…
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…
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
tomorrow is vietnamese independence day and the air is festive. people are floating around the offices and everything has been, of late, successful. we have a total of three new foreigners working at the university and, because i work in the international relations department, i have been working feverishly in order to set their lives up comfortably.
we need mobile phones. in place of a phone in the home, a mobile phone is actually quite a wise purchase. it costs just about as much as a normal phone but is, well, mobile. we drive around, look at different models and eventually buy the cheap one.
we need bicycles. if we don't have a bicycle, we can't really go anywhere. sure, you could walk places, but strutting down sunny streets isn't my idea of fun. you're going to sweat enough, spend as much time as possible inside.
we need home furnishings. everyone wants their room to feel a bit like home. i've accomplished this by carefully leaving my dirty clothes hanging from a number of tables and chairs, thus creating what is termed the 'dorm room effect'. people want to buy rugs and things for the walls and cushions and so on. we drive and find and barter and buy.
thus is my life. tomorrow is a day off but i'll probably take advantage of the empty offices and the fast internet connection to get some serious work done.
our foreign community here doubled almost overnight. the dog doesn't quite know what to do.
we need mobile phones. in place of a phone in the home, a mobile phone is actually quite a wise purchase. it costs just about as much as a normal phone but is, well, mobile. we drive around, look at different models and eventually buy the cheap one.
we need bicycles. if we don't have a bicycle, we can't really go anywhere. sure, you could walk places, but strutting down sunny streets isn't my idea of fun. you're going to sweat enough, spend as much time as possible inside.
we need home furnishings. everyone wants their room to feel a bit like home. i've accomplished this by carefully leaving my dirty clothes hanging from a number of tables and chairs, thus creating what is termed the 'dorm room effect'. people want to buy rugs and things for the walls and cushions and so on. we drive and find and barter and buy.
thus is my life. tomorrow is a day off but i'll probably take advantage of the empty offices and the fast internet connection to get some serious work done.
our foreign community here doubled almost overnight. the dog doesn't quite know what to do.
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