Hàng Ngày

I’m sure some of you are familiar with this (probably somewhat butchered) quotation from the movie Forrest Gump. When Forrest goes to Vietnam he says this statement about the climate in the jungle. And judging from the past week, Forrest was right! We have been in the rainy season since I arrived, but for the past week it has been really intense, with rain storms and gray skys every day, sometimes for hours at a time with only a few minutes pause between storms. The horrible road to Campus B is a permanent river, although some mornings the people who own the rice restaurants put some sort of round bricks out in the road (i’m assuming for people to step on when the water rises) and so these bricks are slowly replenishing the quickly dwindling material of the road. Every time I ride my bicycle to and from the university I say a small prayer that today is not the day that I hit an underwater rock the wrong way and capsize my bike. It would mean a very muddy bath. I am still working on the poncho situation. Somehow the Vietnamese manage to wear these large ponchos and drape them over the handlebars of their bikes and tuck their legs in so that they are virtually dry when they arrive at their destinations. For some reason I arrive soaked at least up to the knees no matter what I do (and usually up to my thighs if it is raining particularly hard or I am particularly careless with my poncho holding).

My students asked me if the rain makes me feel lonely, and I hadn’t thought about it, but it does make me feel a bit homesick I guess. When it is gray like this I am reminded of similar fall seasons in New York City: walking around the deadly corner of 116th and Broadway to confront a wall of rain and wind that soak you through to your bones before you can make it the short distance to the door of your building. Going down in the subway when it’s light and sunny outside and coming out downtown in the village an hour later to find the sun has set and clouds have rolled in carrying heavy rain: and you are without a poncho. One situation in particular from this most recent summer. (Erin, Nima, Sophie, do you remember trying to see that rooftop film and instead getting absolutly drenched and standing in the rising water of the subway exit for a good 15 minutes?)

In other news, I have a new favorite song. I thought it would take longer for me to grow to like the cheesy pop music that they have here. But it seems my daily rides past the coffee shop on the Horrible Road to Campus B have had an affect on me. This coffee shop always blasts music at the limits of its speakers, and is often playing the song “Cho Nhau Ky Niem,” by Luong Bang Quang and Thu Thuy. This cheesy pop-love song (“Give each other memories”) has found a special place in my heart. Check it out if you are into artists like  Mariah Carey or New Kids on the Block. I know you’re all closet fans, don’t pretend…

Monday was the official first day of school (althouh I have been teaching for a month now…) which is a BIG DEAL at AGU. Sunday night’s movie night suffered a bit from the preparations however. Sunday evening about 100 English majors trekked to Hall A in the pouring rain only to find that the benches had all been removed for the next morning’s ceremony! This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem two weeks ago when we watched Buffalo Boy, a Vietnamese film with English subtitles. The students were more than happy to sit on tables. However, this week’s flick was Guantanamera…in Spanish…with English subtitles. Unfortunately, because of the lack of chairs, only the first two rows of students sitting on tables could see these subtitles! Some students creatively (and dangerously) stacked the tables two high in order to create a sort of “stadium seating.” Others crouched on their haunches in the front for the entire movie! Needless to say, the classes that are supposed to use the film in their coursework (not my class, thankfully) are going to have a tough time recapping the themes of the film.

But, I digress…my point was: the benches from Hall A as well as about a hundred plastic chairs for teachers and hundreds of tiny plastic stools for students were all set up outside on campus Sunday night. And at 7 am Monday morning, they were filled with teachers and students wearing uniforms and ao dai (traditional Vietnamese dress with long flowing pants and a long tunic). The English department’s uniform was a blue suit or ao dai. They decided not to tell me this in advance, and so I of course was not dressed properly (wearing a green ao dai) which was quite entertaining to the other teachers in my group.

The day began with a procession of the new students. Each faculty had a banner that was carried by a senior who led the freshmen in front of the stage and to their seats. It was a nice welcome. There was singing as well (of course!): one pop-type song by a tiny woman with a surprisingly deep voice. She was able to belt it out pretty well over the voice of the singer in the background music, although sometimes it seemed like she was yelling rather than singing in tune. The second song was what seemed to be the equivalent of a university fight song (I’m thinking of “There’s a College on a Hilltop…” After the music we had to endure endless introductions of party officials and businessmen (all men) representing various interests in education. Dr. Xuan, the world-famous rector of the university gave a speech that I actually understood! (For the most part) He talked about the students being at the forefront of a developing nation and that they had the opportunity to gain a lot for themselves, but should also think about giving their talents to the society. He warned them of how cheating can poison the university environment and encouraged both the students and teachers to be more creative and free-thinking in their respective positions at the university. I enjoyed it, although later found that my students couldn’t even hear at all from their plastic stools in the back!

It was hot as H*LL sitting in the sun, and I found myself immitating the Vietnamese women who are sun-phobic by holding my folder with my day’s lesson up against the side of my face to shade it from the glaring rays. After another less-intelligible speech by some people’s committee dude, they recognized scholarship donors and recipients. I was surprised (although not too surprised) to see that one of my third year students, Thai, was the recipient of a 13,500.000 VND scholarship. This is the equivalent of about 950 dollars, which is a lot of money here in Long Xuyen, and only two students received this great honor. After the scholarship presentations, Dr. Xuan banged on a huge drum a few times to officially open the new year and we were finally free to go. Following the ceremony was what seemed like ENDLESS picture taking: my third year female students (all wearing ao dai, of course) each wanted a picture with me…I felt like my mouth was stuck in a permanent fake smile, and my jaw began to ache from the stress.

The ceremony is apparently only one of several festive days that we will celebrate here at AGU this year. The next is Teacher’s Day, which is on November 21st. On this day, all of the students give their teachers flowers and the teachers apparently have to participate in some sort of performance. Goodness only knows what they will rope me into for that one!

For those of you who think that the title of this post indicates that it is going to be a pornographic experience, I am sorry to disappoint you. For those of you who were in Professor Remez’ Perceptual Psychology class, you will understand what I mean by a “sensuous snapshot,” because it was drilled into your head that sensuous means “of the senses,” as opposed to sensual, which means sexual. But, I digress…The AM run for me has been one of the most telling pictures of everyday life here in Vietnam, and although I can not fully share the experience with you (nor would many of you want to share it!) I will try to relate the experience with words as best I can.

At the sound of my watch alarm beeping I wrestle briefly with my mosquito net and reach blindly for the machine in order to stop its incessant whining. It is 5 am, it is dark, and I am tired. I crawl out of my mosquito free cocoon and pull on my running clothes and shoes in the dark, put my contacts in, splash water on my face, and am out the door by 5:10. The guesthouse is quiet, as is the rest of campus, and I start my run down the gravel path that leads to the university gate, passing a few loan students who are already awake. They are pacing the volleyball courts with notes in hand, studying aloud to themselves quietly.

The second stretch of my morning run usually turns into a walk due to the bad quality of the road leading to Campus B where I live. If the weather’s been hot, the road is littered with small boulders that are difficult to see in the dark, but could cause considerable damage were I to step on one the wrong way. If it’s been raining, the road is a river, and I must choose the best way to ford it using the boulders that are otherwise such a nuisance. On the horrible road to Campus B, I pass the first rice restaurant of the morning, where a woman is busily adding wood to her smokey fire. The smell reminds me of camping. At the end of the horrible road, the second rice restaurant already smells of grilling meat. Here is where I can begin to run again, down Vo Thi Sau street towards the main road. I pass stores that are already preparing for the days’ business: giant blocks of ice being ground to deliver to various coffee shops around the city, giant vats of broth simmering, soon to be poured over bowls of rice noodles.

When I reach the main road, I turn left and am confronted with the first propaganda of the day: giant loudspeakers suspended from telephone poles and billboards spout information including news, commericals, patriotic music, and public service announcements. Kind of like NPR, accept blasted at high volume for all to hear at 5:15 am. On the main road there are already many bicycles and motorbikes out for the morning, many piled high with goods being delivered to various stores and restaurants. The next left is into a new subdivision where I leave the bustle of the main road and its motorbike lights and horns behind. There is always a cool breeze in this subdivision, although sometimes the swarms of gnats, mosquitos, and other miscellaneous tiny bugs is enough to make my eyes water and my mouth sputter in disgust.

The first curve of the subdivision brings me to the Long Xuyên refuse dump (what seems to be a designated spot on the road where everyone leaves their garbage.) Lately the garbage heap has had more than its fair share of market waste: small crabs! It smells vaguely like the Emerald Isle beach after a big storm when all sorts of sea sludge has been washed on to the steps of your beach house and reak of dead fish and sand. Sometimes a few of the crabs have escaped the cruel death of the trash heap an are scuttling away across the road.

At this point, the sun is beginning to rise behind me and by 5:40 am on the dot, it will be light outside. At the end of the subdivision there are usually miscellaneous groups of people playing badminton or doing various types of 1920s style calisthenics (if anyone from New City School is reading this, think “Windmills” in Denise’s fourth grade class). Some mornings there is a young couple who try their hand at racing me or most recently, asking me to play volleyball with them. After a few bumps of the medicine-ball-heavy volleyball, I leave with small speckled bruises on my forearms. What’s a few broken capillaries, right?

At the end of the subdivision, I turn to face the rising sun framed with clouds that look like puffs of cotton candy reflecting the reddish-pink haze of the early morning light. On the way back out of the subdivision, the old ladies’ Tai Chi club is in full swing, and I imagine that if I lived here for 20 years and ran this route every morning, these old women would still smile and laugh at me every time I passed: it seems that the topic of “Ta chạy, dẹp thế!” (she’s running, very beautiful!) never gets old. When I make it back to the main road, Hà Hoàng Hổ (try that for a tongue twister!) it is bright as day, and the street is full of motorbikes taking goods to market, children to school, goods home from market and people to work. At this point, I run faster: the less time on the main road with potentially unfamiliar people the less attention I will attract. People are always good-natured and friendly. Sometimes people yell things like “Cô ơi, cô đi đâu, hả?” (Hey lady, where are you going?) but generally it is just genuinly curious stares at a westerner. A western female. Running. And wearing shorts!!

Finally I make it back to Võ Thị Sáu, the home stretch, where the shopowners (bike woman, watch guy) know my face and wave as I trot by on my way home. The rice restaurants are in full cooking mode, smelling strongly of delicious freshly grilled meat and simmering soup broth. Often there are already a few students out eating breakfast at the first rice restaurant…at 5:55 am. The aroma makes my mouth water for breakfast as I run through the gate of Campus B where students are up playing badminton and shuttlecock (like hackey-sack, but with a badminton-type shuttlecock). When I return to my room I feel as if I have had a full day of Vietnam experiences before the others in the guesthouse have even woken up.

Last night I taught my first class at the Center for Foreign Languages (CFL). The center is affiliated with the university, and offers English (and other language) lessons in the evenings for a small fee. Huyen, the director of the center, asked me last week if I would teach one of these classes twice a week this semester (that’s right, she asked me last week…the class began on Friday!) I convinced Huyen that I was too busy to do twice a week, but she roped me into teaching the class one evening a week, so Wednesdays will now be spent in Block G of AGU teaching a group of mixed-level, mixed-age, mixed-interest students using a crappy book and a piece of chalk.

Huyen told me that my class would be in G2, so of course, I was quite surprised when I arrived in room G2 and no one was there! The class began at 7 pm, and at 7:15 an older man came up to me and said, “Are you Lillian?” and when I nodded he proceeded to speak to me in rapid Vietnamese about my CFL class. I understood that my class had been moved to a different room, that I could get a tape recorder from his office, and that his name was Mr. Thuy and he was the retired director of the CFL. Arriving late to my first class was only the beginning of the adventure…There were about 25 students in the class (better than the 50 I had been told showed up on Friday!) and the ability level is much lower than my university classes. We started off with a game of introducing each other in a circle and remember the names of the people who had introduced themselves previously. Fairly simple, but it took a long time for them to get it, and I had to go around to each group and explain it a second time.

When I tried to use the cassette tape for the book, I quickly realized that only 7 people in the class had the book. So, I had to quickly modify the activities and think on my toes of another “getting to know you” activity that would use simple questions and answers. I again used Paul and Simon’s nametag with numbers activity (what would I have done without those guys!?) and then read the dialogue from the book aloud instead of using the tape.  The class seemed fairly easy-going, which made me relax a bit and just kind of go with the ridiculousness of the situation in which I felt no one was understanding a word of what I was saying, and most of them didn’t really care.

The highlight of the evening was when I almost made a student cry. That’s right. I asked the students to imagine they were new students at AGU and to practice introducing themselves, asking about majors, where they’re from, etc. One kid didn’t have a partner, so I went to ask him these questions in order to give him some practice. The introduction went fine, but then came the stumbling block. I asked him what he was majoring in. No comprehension. I simplified it and asked what he was studying. Blank stare again. I asked even more simply “What do you study.” and he mumbled something like, “I study at AGU.” which wasn’t what I was really asking. Finally, I said “Ban hoc gi?” (What do you study in Vietnamese) but at this point I think he was too petrified of me to respond anymore, and he just kept staring down at his desk blankly and his eyes seemed to be welling up with tears. I dropped it, the whole thing, said good job, and moved on to the next students who seemed to comprehend. I didn’t know what else to do. I guess I will have to think more about how to teach really BEGINNER students. It’s a whole different set of teaching skills that my training didn’t really give me, and it will take some work on my part to improve. Better luck next week.