Hàng Ngày

The future can hold so many unknown possibilities. We choose ways, and those lead onto ways (I believe Robert Frost said as much) and we try not to look back. Frost says he “took the road less traveled by…” but he left out the part about remembering past stretches of road that we can may never go back to…or that we may go back to in ten years and find they’ve been paved over by superhighways. And the fact that some of the people traveling next to us on those roads will choose other roads, and we may try to find them again, but you know how hard it is to find someone when you’re probably lost yourself. Those cell phones just don’t get great reception in the woods, do they? But in the end we have to choose, otherwise we’ll just be standing at that crossroads until a bear comes along and chases us down one of the roads…

If I was Robert Frost I would have written how you may glance back,

Just for a moment, after stepping onto that newly chosen path.

Glance back and squint your eyes

To see if the people behind are still waving goodbye to you,

Glance once more,

To fix the image firmly in your mind,

Glance to reassure yourself that you’re making the right decision,

Before turning to the new road,

Be it a well-trodden trail

Or merely a faint destination in the distance with no clear path.

Today one of my greatest fears of living in Vietnam came true: This is the fear of hitting some small animal or child with my bicycle while taking my scenic yet brisk bike tours of the countryside down narrow dirt tracks. There is always an abundance of these types of creatures on every backwater track, and they often stray into the road without looking or shouting warning (how could they?) It’s a wonder there aren’t more news reports of people having accidents with livestock (or babies, god forbid).

I was out at about 4:30, having left work early to relieve a little anxiety (I don’t know why I’ve been so anxious lately…) I took one of my most standard routes through the rice paddies, with houses and fruit orchards scattered in between. I was going quite fast (a product of the anxiety and the steep bridge I’d just crossed) when I approached a group of dogs and chickens. I slowed down a little as they were meandering around in the middle of the road, hoping they would scatter. They did in fact scatter, but I soon saw that one of the dogs was chasing one of the chickens, and before I knew it, had chased the stupid chicken under my bicycle wheel. I couldn’t stop. It squawked as I ran over its neck.

I stopped immediately and ran back to see the poor fowl twitching in the middle of the road. A young woman about my age came out from the house next door and just stared (a foreigner had just hit a chicken with a bicycle, I mean, come on). I called into the house where the chicken presumably belonge, and called out to the woman there, explained what had happened and apologized profusely. At this point the other woman had picked up the limp chicken and was carrying it back to her house (I guess it was hers? I don’t know who owned the chicken). No one seemed too concerned, which surprised me, as chickens are expensive! The only one who was really shaken by the event was me. I killed a chicken. I killed a chicken by running over its neck with my bicycle.

Yesterday was one in a series of farewell parties for Eric, the volunteer who’s been at An Giang University for the past three years and has become somewhat of a legend at the university as well as in the town in general. Everyone has been taught by Eric, and everyone has had a cheers with Eric. Eric’s understanding and appreciation for Vietnamese culture is deep, and his commitment to his students is serious. The party last night ended at one of his favorite haunts by the canal with a middle-aged semi- alcoholic guitar player and restauranteur who has become one of Eric’s closest friends, and consequently one of our frequent acquaintances. There were some teary eyes at that point, and Eric and I stayed up until 3 in the morning talking, not just about leaving, but about other things related and unrelated to living here. The past few months and weeks Eric and I have become much closer, possibly by default as two of the more “senior” and “knowledgeable” foreigners here.

It bears mentioning that Eric and I do not see eye to eye on a lot of aspects of life here and in general. When I first arrived last year, many may remember that I was shocked and appalled by the behavior I witnessed among the young men living in the house with me. I completely closed myself off to most of their activities and interactions, which was lonely for me, and surely bred feelings of resentment in them: ‘Who is this girl coming in and thinking she can tell us that our behavior is inappropriate? We’ve been here for longer!’ But with the changed dynamic in the guesthouse this year, our shared genuine commitment to the students and their best interest, and our different understanding that the other newer vols here, Eric and I have become friends. I will miss Eric, which is something I would not have said a year ago. It’s funny how these situations you’re forced to live with can make you become friends with people you would have never expected to get along with. And the past few weeks talking to Eric about more meaningful subjects than ever before have been helpful for me in my own thought process about what my next move will be when my contract is finished here in the end of January. We have some of the same confusions about the decisions that will soon greet us when our terms here end. And that has been great to share with someone.

‘The Band’

Soon to be appearing in a country-folk-music festival near you!