it has been a while since i last posted about the hurricane.
after my last post i went outside with the dog to run. a storm front was visible to the south east. normally weather patterns move from the west to the east but this weather pattern was moving very quickly from the east to the west. it looked to be a ways off so we mounted the motorcycle (the dog sits between my legs with his paws on the handlebars) and were off to our normal patch of road to go running.
by the time we reached the road, a black cloud approached from the east. it was moving at an incredible rate of speed and the wind was ferocious. the road is lined with giant stands of grass, about 8 feet high, and they were all plastered down to the ground under the force of the wind.
it began to rain as we ran. it rained and howled and the dog was miserable and confused. the wind would pelt us in one direction and would blow at our backs as we ran in the other. it was incredible. the sky darkened and i was running with my dog in a tropical storm or whatever you would like to call it.
we didn’t run for as long as we normally run and we quickly returned to the motorcycle and drove home in the rain. the dog was shaking because he was cold and i was just trying to drive straight.
the storm has since passed and we were just exposed to the northern most edge. i’ve heard that provinces to the south of us suffered from some damage. i should be glad to be living in an giang. one of my colleagues at work noted that, ‘an giang is the perfect place to live. storms always end up hurting everyone else, not us.’
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
i walked outside of the guesthouse to head off to a meeting one afternoon when a dog walked up to me. he was a black dog (cho muc in vietnamese meaning ‘ink dog’ or ‘squid dog’) and he walked as if his back and his front were connected not with bone but with skin, tendons and a digestive tract.
he walked up to me and his tail began to wag. it was a long tail, about half as long as my new, semi-handicapped dog friend, and it seemed to control the direction his back half headed in. as he approached me, he didn’t seem to be quite like any of the other dogs i have seen roaming around these parts. most dogs that roam the busy roads and pathways around these parts are gnarled and wise. this dog was clean and young and wore a handsome, red collar.
he came right up to me and smelled my feet, something no random dog would do, and began to nibble on my pants. i, being a person who is not easily amused by puppies or babies or flowers, was rather annoyed. i was about to walk away when a person walked around the corner and explained to me that this was, in fact, his dog.
it turns out the dog is named ‘jonathan’. i have a coal black dog that can not properly walk named after me. this is the third dog that has been named after me since i have arrived in vietnam.
i was then told the story of how jonathan first learned how to walk. evidently, this poor dog was not able to walk for the first few months of his life and would, ‘swim,’ around the house on his belly. there was some concern that jonathan would never be able to walk and people had given up hope. one vet decided the reason jonathan was not walking was because he was inside and he simply needed to feel the dirt between his toes to get up and get going. he was taken outside where he continued to swim around on his belly in the mud.
then, as if through the divine intervention of some heavenly figure and the mud, the dog stood up and began to bound around. jonathan was healed. jonathan could walk.
a common question asked of me around these parts is, ‘how do you feel?’ it’s a direct translation of a vietnamese phrase which i would more correctly translate as, ‘what do you think about…?’ if i was to be asked what do i think about having a semi-handicapped dog named after me, i would not know how to respond. the macabre nature of the situation causes me to tilt my head a bit to the right and grin.
he walked up to me and his tail began to wag. it was a long tail, about half as long as my new, semi-handicapped dog friend, and it seemed to control the direction his back half headed in. as he approached me, he didn’t seem to be quite like any of the other dogs i have seen roaming around these parts. most dogs that roam the busy roads and pathways around these parts are gnarled and wise. this dog was clean and young and wore a handsome, red collar.
he came right up to me and smelled my feet, something no random dog would do, and began to nibble on my pants. i, being a person who is not easily amused by puppies or babies or flowers, was rather annoyed. i was about to walk away when a person walked around the corner and explained to me that this was, in fact, his dog.
it turns out the dog is named ‘jonathan’. i have a coal black dog that can not properly walk named after me. this is the third dog that has been named after me since i have arrived in vietnam.
i was then told the story of how jonathan first learned how to walk. evidently, this poor dog was not able to walk for the first few months of his life and would, ‘swim,’ around the house on his belly. there was some concern that jonathan would never be able to walk and people had given up hope. one vet decided the reason jonathan was not walking was because he was inside and he simply needed to feel the dirt between his toes to get up and get going. he was taken outside where he continued to swim around on his belly in the mud.
then, as if through the divine intervention of some heavenly figure and the mud, the dog stood up and began to bound around. jonathan was healed. jonathan could walk.
a common question asked of me around these parts is, ‘how do you feel?’ it’s a direct translation of a vietnamese phrase which i would more correctly translate as, ‘what do you think about…?’ if i was to be asked what do i think about having a semi-handicapped dog named after me, i would not know how to respond. the macabre nature of the situation causes me to tilt my head a bit to the right and grin.
i was teaching in the library today when i picked up the paper. there was a graph in the bottom right corner of a hurricane heading in this direction. there was the ‘projected path’ of said storm and it seemed to cross about 60 km south of my home town at 6:00 this evening.
i stopped and looked at the picture for a while and went back to check my vietnamese. yes, everything was correct, there was a hurricane heading this direction. i went over to some staff and asked if this was correct. they shrugged and said it might be. i have talked to people about this all day. people seem quite collected about the whole event, though, on the weather map there was a giant swirl of clouds heading towards the mekong delta. the cloud mass was about the size of the mekong itself.
some people told me stories of a giant storm in 2000, or an even bigger one in 1997. some people say it could be that big.
other people don’t seem to be bothered at all by the news and continue with their lives. it is currently 4:45 and the cloud is peaceful, though there is quite a wind churning up. this may amount to nothing but i have never experienced a hurricane before.
i stopped and looked at the picture for a while and went back to check my vietnamese. yes, everything was correct, there was a hurricane heading this direction. i went over to some staff and asked if this was correct. they shrugged and said it might be. i have talked to people about this all day. people seem quite collected about the whole event, though, on the weather map there was a giant swirl of clouds heading towards the mekong delta. the cloud mass was about the size of the mekong itself.
some people told me stories of a giant storm in 2000, or an even bigger one in 1997. some people say it could be that big.
other people don’t seem to be bothered at all by the news and continue with their lives. it is currently 4:45 and the cloud is peaceful, though there is quite a wind churning up. this may amount to nothing but i have never experienced a hurricane before.
Friday, November 19, 2004
tomorrow is teacher's day in vietnam and everything is becoming festive. the past few days people have been hauling giant lights and speakers onto campus for the celebration tomorrow morning. everything is exciting now.
people are walking around the offices with bouquets of flowers. the women of the office are all wearing the flowing ao dai dresses that are made of reams and reams of shiny cloth that flow around the ankles befuddling the mind.
tomorrow we, as teachers, will sit in the middle of our main courtyard and will listen to teachers. the students will surround us on small, plastic chairs. we will then be given flowers and pictures will be taken. last year i was interviewed on television and was too nervous to make much sense. this year, if the occurrence is repeated, i will be much more prepared.
tomorrow is a celebration of teachers and teaching. i would like to thank all of my teachers, those who have allowed me to further my understanding of the world by positing questions that make me actually think for myself.
people are walking around the offices with bouquets of flowers. the women of the office are all wearing the flowing ao dai dresses that are made of reams and reams of shiny cloth that flow around the ankles befuddling the mind.
tomorrow we, as teachers, will sit in the middle of our main courtyard and will listen to teachers. the students will surround us on small, plastic chairs. we will then be given flowers and pictures will be taken. last year i was interviewed on television and was too nervous to make much sense. this year, if the occurrence is repeated, i will be much more prepared.
tomorrow is a celebration of teachers and teaching. i would like to thank all of my teachers, those who have allowed me to further my understanding of the world by positing questions that make me actually think for myself.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
when the day is long, one must take a break and drink something cold and sweet. when i get tired and a bit run down, i step outside with my normal group of friends. we walk out of the school gates and into our newest hole-in-the wall coffee shop.
it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.
i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.
i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.
i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.
i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.
it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.
i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.
i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.
i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.
i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.
when the day is long, one must take a break and drink something cold and sweet. when i get tired and a bit run down, i step outside with my normal group of friends. we walk out of the school gates and into our newest hole-in-the wall coffee shop.
it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.
i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.
i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.
i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.
i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.
it’s a very small coffee shop filled with tiny plastic chairs that one would find in a kindergarten class. some of the chairs are quite old and have broken. this does not discourage their use and an enterprising person can be found to drill little holes in the broken pieces and string them together tightly with wire.
i have been drinking glasses of strawberry juice of late. for some reason it is refreshing, though terribly sweet. if i don’t have strawberry juice i’ll have coffee.
i was sitting in my little coffee shop, it doesn’t have a name you see, and watching a soccer game on television. the screen was a good 15 feet away from me so i couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but i watched never the less. all of the sudden, the vietnamese announcer uttered the word ‘betis’. real betis.
i lived in seville, spain for one year. in seville, there are two soccer teams and an intense rivalry. one team is simply called ‘seville’ and the other ‘real betis’. i lived with an old lady and she always used to tell me that ‘betis is more seville than seville is!’ it was all confusing to me, but i enjoyed watching people. we used to go to games.
i moved closer to the television to watch and, sure enough, it was real betis playing at home in seville. i couldn’t help but break out into a wry grin as i watched the familiar green and white jerseys dart around the field as i sat in this small coffee shop without a name in the mekong delta. it all seemed to be odd, yet entirely familiar.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
the dry season has returned and it returns very subtly. at the beginning and end of the rainy season the sky opens up sporadically. at one point in the day the clouds will begin and one will be able to pick out a large, black, ominous looking beast hovering on the horizon. that cloud will make its way over our humble city and it will drench us for about 15 minutes. that is the beginning and end of the rainy season.
the middle is different. that cloud will cover the whole horizon and the storm will last for days.
i declare the rainy season to be over because it hasn't rained in a couple of days. normally it rains just about now, the end of the work day. the sky will grey and the lights on the motorcycles will all turn on. it's eerie how silent it feels with no more rain. i look on the rain with some nostalgia, some longing. now there will be the dust and the heat of the dry season. the dust will come in roaming gangs pulled by the wind in brown waves across the street. i will shower and it will pour off of me clog the drain.
no more flooded fields, no more rain, no more of that feeling, the same feeling you get in a horrible blizzard, of being trapped in a building because of a natural occurrence. no more of that excitement that builds up in your stomach as you stand at the front door to the university with other teachers talking about when the storm will end and whether or not we should just head out into the downpour. now there is only dull, clear skies.
the middle is different. that cloud will cover the whole horizon and the storm will last for days.
i declare the rainy season to be over because it hasn't rained in a couple of days. normally it rains just about now, the end of the work day. the sky will grey and the lights on the motorcycles will all turn on. it's eerie how silent it feels with no more rain. i look on the rain with some nostalgia, some longing. now there will be the dust and the heat of the dry season. the dust will come in roaming gangs pulled by the wind in brown waves across the street. i will shower and it will pour off of me clog the drain.
no more flooded fields, no more rain, no more of that feeling, the same feeling you get in a horrible blizzard, of being trapped in a building because of a natural occurrence. no more of that excitement that builds up in your stomach as you stand at the front door to the university with other teachers talking about when the storm will end and whether or not we should just head out into the downpour. now there is only dull, clear skies.
Monday, November 08, 2004
i spend my days explaining what happened in america a little less than a week ago. people are very curious why things turned out the way they did.
people ask me questions about what the american population is like, what they want. i, at this point, do not necessarily know how to respond.
one of the first criticisms of americans that i heard upon coming here was that we were an aggressive race, that we needed a leader who would be strong and would make war. i confronted this stereotype and talked about the hundreds of americans i knew who did not want to make war, who also knew peace. this eventually seemed to pass. now, i don't know what to say. i'm at a loss and wander back and forth in front of a classroom that doesn't seem to understand what my constant pacing means.
i continue and plod on. i have been away from america four of the last seven years and i may have simply lost touch with what the people of my country feel and think. i may have lost touch with what people want in a leader, what people need. i may not be able to see that a leader who hubristically invades and speaks of no failure may be what people back home want. i may not realize that a leader that claims to have no moral failing, though some may be evident, is truly what is right for my homeland.
is it also right for the world? does that matter?
am i wrong in seeing this as parallel to what happened in the mid 60's?
people ask me questions about what the american population is like, what they want. i, at this point, do not necessarily know how to respond.
one of the first criticisms of americans that i heard upon coming here was that we were an aggressive race, that we needed a leader who would be strong and would make war. i confronted this stereotype and talked about the hundreds of americans i knew who did not want to make war, who also knew peace. this eventually seemed to pass. now, i don't know what to say. i'm at a loss and wander back and forth in front of a classroom that doesn't seem to understand what my constant pacing means.
i continue and plod on. i have been away from america four of the last seven years and i may have simply lost touch with what the people of my country feel and think. i may have lost touch with what people want in a leader, what people need. i may not be able to see that a leader who hubristically invades and speaks of no failure may be what people back home want. i may not realize that a leader that claims to have no moral failing, though some may be evident, is truly what is right for my homeland.
is it also right for the world? does that matter?
am i wrong in seeing this as parallel to what happened in the mid 60's?
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
if you read this before you vote today, and you happen to think wistfully of me while you're in that voting booth, please remember that a vote for the man whose last name begins with the letter 'k' and ends with the letter 'y' would actually make my life a whole lot easier.
it's selfish of me to say this.
i know both of them are flawed but that's not the point. it's all about perception. it's all about perception.
it's all about perception.
it's
all
about
perception.
it's selfish of me to say this.
i know both of them are flawed but that's not the point. it's all about perception. it's all about perception.
it's all about perception.
it's
all
about
perception.
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