Hàng Ngày

My students, the fellows, are gone. They have been gone for three days now, and I feel…completely empty. I don’t know how to express the emptiness I feel. I want to cry. I ride past the places where we used to eat lunch together, play “đá câu” together, and hang out together. I don’t remember it being this sad when they left last year…I’m kind of glad that I’m leaving. There are too many things here that remind me of my dear friends who have left me. I don’t want to see these reminders anymore!

There seem to have been some problems with the internet in the past few weeks, and I haven’t been able to access this website to write a post. And yet, SOOOO much has happened lately that I don’t feel I can do it justice in just one posting. Bear with me friends, I will try to keep in readably short…

The most recent development in my life here is the sad departure of the IFP fellows who I have been teaching every day for the past five months. I have grown closer to these students than I first expected. Initially they seemed much more shy than last year’s group of fellows, who enjoyed their regular evening parties in front of the dormitory. This year’s group was very studious, very diligent, and very dedicated to their work and their communities. They run the gamut from teachers to public health workers, to agricultural specialists, to activists, to politicians and economists. Over the course of five months in and outside of class, and particularly in the past month, I became very close with some of these students, who are more my peers than the university students, and would normally be my friends instead of my charges. We have had many adventures together, in particular regarding the “Crazy Coffee Shop” as Hải likes to call it…details below…

Sunday evening we arrived at Nguyễn Huệ electronics center where we had seen advertisements for a new rooftop coffee bar. We rode the escalator up three floors only to find the top floor blocked off by a rope. One of the 47 idling, friendly sales assistants informed us that to enter the coffee shop we had to use the elevator, and so back downstairs we went, only to find that the elevator was also barred with a gate. The security guard told us the coffee shop was currently full, but to “wait some minutes” and he would sneak us in. Finally, it was our turn, and we entered the elevator with anticipation.

At the top, the elevator door opened onto an awesomely realistic (not) jungle-like scene, complete with pandas. Outside, we found UFO-like structures that were actually colorful umbrellas adorning the roof. The first ordeal was where to find a table for all six of us. It was indeed quite crowded, and we switched tables at least three times in search of a cool breeze, making the wait staff thoroughly confused. The view was indeed awesome, although our table was full of dirty glasses from previous customers.

Three young waiters came to give us menus and take our orders, which were fairly simple. I could have memorized it without writing it down after we repeated it so many times trying to make it clear to them. The timid wait staff went away, leaving the dirty glasses for us to enjoy. About ten minutes later a different waiter came to our table with two black coffees with ice. We took one, and politely inquired about our order, the other drinks?? We were one for six. He went away.

About five minutes later a young waitress came over with another black coffee with ice. Again, we politely inquired about the rest of our order and sent her away. They seemed to be reconnoitering in a corner as we glanced expectantly at them. Finally, a different waitress ame over and apologized for the confusion and asked for our order again. We obliged. She slunk away. Ten minutes later, a young man appeared with two white, frothy drinks. When Long asked what it was, the young man said “milk shake.” Long was confused, “I ordered a coconut shake,” he said. “Oh right,” said the young man, “That’s what it is.” Long took one. We were two for six. The young man asked us to “please understand” as it was his first day. (Isn’t it everyone’s first day??)

Five minutes later a waitress came to ask if we needed anything else. “Our drinks, drinks would be nice,” we replied. She looked confused and literally ran away. Five minutes later we finally got our drinks. At this point we were practically off our seats laughing, and the wait staff seemed so petrified that we were afraid they were going to trip on the stone pathway and go sprawling over the edge of Nguyễn Huệ electronics center. H

The final excitement came when it was time for the bill. This new coffee shop had promised a special gift to all tables on the opening day. We waited in expectation for our bill so that we could get our free gift. The bill took about three requests and 20 minutes before it arrived, and we inquired about the gift. The young waiter looked scared, and ran away. He ran back a few minutes later and told us they were gone, no more gifts (it was quite late). We laughed, and complained good-naturedly, at which point he said they’d go buy one. Off he went again. About 15 minutes later he came back with a little wrapped package. We opened it amusedly, and found a tiny glass cup with flowers painted on the side. One glass. One ugly glass, for six people to share. The young man looked sheepishly at us before running away one more time. We vowed never to go back again…

But somehow, two night later, there we were at Panda Cafe yet again, and the pouring rain (unseasonable) was leaking through the neon UFO-like umbrellas, and the wait staff was still running around like chicken with their heads cut off, despite the fact that it was no longer their first day, and there were puddles that we had to walk through to get to our table.

Just one of many adventures had with the fellows. I hope to visit some of them in their homes after I finish here (next week!) The memories are still in my head, and it’s hard to work today as I feel that I’m caught between my memories from the past year and a half and my thoughts about the next phase of my life, and trying to stay focused on the here and now, on the present moment, is just not working. It’s raining (out of season) and I’m trying to reconcile a lot of different feelings and thoughts and emotions…and there is still so much to do before I leave in a week…

Riding home from work this evening after a 9-day excursion throughout Vietnam with my family (who left this afternoon at 2 pm) I suddenly saw a glint of clarity through the dark clouds of disappointment, self-doubt, and disillusionment that have been characteristic of my last few months here.

I came back to Vietnam in September with apprehension and things only got worse as my “research” project didn’t work out and I felt jaded with the university and life here. I couldn’t wait to get out again, back to the US where I rediscovered my real self this summer, and where I was sure I could find it again.

I have spent the last 9 days traveling around Vietnam with my family. I realized, seeing them experience Vietnam for the first time, just how much this has become my home. I was able to share a small part of this life with the people who are most important to me, and I think that alone was reason enough to stay on here a little longer.

But something else has been happening over the past few months; an internal struggle of some sort that has left me falling head over heals in love with my life here once again. I had a conversation with Tambi about a month ago in which she said that Vietnam “breaks” people and they then have to recreate themselves in a new environment. I hadn’t thought of it in these terms before, but I think that this is exactly what has happened to me in the past month. When I went back to New York I realized that I had changed so much, and strayed so far from my confident “Barnard Woman” roots. It left me feeling dejected and hopeless.

Part of it was perhaps the infusion of new people into the guesthouse. Kirsty, Minh, Bich, Steven, William, and Michelle brought new perspectives to Long Xuyen and allowed me to see how much I had learned. But maybe most of it was that I just stopped caring so much about other people and what they thought of me, and other foreigners, and women from my country. I held strongin the belief that I am a good person, and tried to have a little more fun and let go, went out a little more, and smiled a lot more, and laughed a lot more, and sang a lot more.
And somehow, the combination of all of these things worked. I feel like, for the time-being a least, I am more secure in myself, my goals and dreams, my qualities and abilities, and my values than I have been in a long time. All of that in Vietnam, in Long Xuyen at that! Maybe this is why I felt I needed to come back; why there was something that seemed to be unfinished here. I couldn’t leave until I felt like I would be excited and eager to come back in the future. At this point, with two weeks left in my teaching contract, I most definitely feel excited to come back to Vietnam at some point in the future. I don’t know where or when, but I know that it will happen, and at that time, I will greet my second once again with open arms and a big smile!