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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dua bo.

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

this is a khmer/vietnamese cultural event.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Vietnam Through the Eyes of a Young American

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

things are out of control.

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

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

i watched ‘west side story’ the other day.

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

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

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

then there’s work.

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

then there’s work.

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

then there’s supper. that always depends.

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

then i sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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