Just a thought..

Aren't endings supposed to feel monumental? I guess I should know by now that they hardly ever are; it's just that I think this whole leaving business would be a lot easier and more conclusive feeling with the assistance of some cosmic indicator emphasizing the finality of my departure from Vietnam in just under two weeks. With no harbingers in sight,I'll admit that it is hard to keep in mind that I won't be here forever, that my days with my new friends that I love so dearly are numbered, that I will soon have to journey farther than down two flights of stairs to enjoy delicious home cooked Vietnamese meals. For how foreign and wild Vietnam remains to be even after studying here for a little over three months, my life in Danang feels normal and I am happy. Really happy. Am I a heathen daughter/sister/friend/girlfriend/niece/cousin in my reluctance to return to all that is waiting for me at home, all that is supposed to feel normal?

I don't mean to imply that I want to stay here forever. I miss my mom, my dad, my step mom, my sisters (one of whom obtained at great lengths a visa from the Ecuadorian government and will, if all goes according to plan, be home for x-mas! a single exclamation point hardly does this exciting news justice!!!), and my friends. I want to pet my cats. For how itchy and claustrophobic it sometimes makes me, I miss New Paltz too. I even miss New Paltz in the wintertime, which is saying a lot. In light of my missings, I still can't shake this feeling: I want to leave sometime, just not yet.

Below are some pictures of people and places that make it hard to contemplate heading home!

I mean, really, who would want to leave cute faces like this. And CAKE!

Mom and her kid

Riverside at Han River

On days like Tuesday when our community service was really awesome and memorable, I feel bad for not writing about all of the times when working with the children at the Agent Orange group home was less than enjoyable. I think that, in my reticence (or laziness!) to talk about what it can really be like to work with people under the age of 12, I might have accidentally fallen victim to propagating the myth that supervising a group of rowdy kids is all fun and games. Trying to put my regrets about not always being completely forthcoming aside, I have to remind myself that I am a person as well as,or more so, than I a am blog. There will be time to field questions later and even then, in real life as in internet life, I might still be at an immediate loss for answers. However, with more time to think and decompress after this amazing journey, rest assured that whatever answers I can eventually muster will always be honest. For now, all I can say is: children are STICKY, they will punch you, there is no explaining why they do the things they do other than a) they know they are cute and can get away with it or b) the magic that I can sense when I am around them is real and children are indeed creatures from other planets, planets that I am both sad and happy to no longer call home.

Before our last visit to the Agent Orange group home earlier this week, I will admit that I was really looking forward to the end of this portion of our volunteer work. As a Human Services major, I have learned a lot about getting in touch with what kinds of populations I can work with and accepting the fact that there are other populations for which I am ill suited. While I will not go as far as to say that I am not cut out to work with children, I believe that I have learned that I would just as soon rather not. I cannot tell you all how many times I thought of my mother, begging my sisters and me to stop hanging on her arms and back during the hottest months of the summer. I understand now that this request has nothing to do with a rejection of our love and affection, as Vietnam (although it has been rainy and cold the past few weeks) is a constant summer and the mornings we spent at the Agent Orange group home provided ample opportunities for the children to use me as a human jungle gym.

Despite my inability to shake my desires not to be touched or roughhoused with, what I have gleaned from this experience is that I have a certain fondness for individuals with different abilities. I choose to avoid the common monikers of "handicapped" or "disabled" because none of the children that I met at the Agent Orange group home appeared to me to be deficient in any manner, except if you count thinking differently or looking different or acting differently. What puzzles me is that these are characteristics that we usually applaud when observed amongst the "general" population. However, as soon as an individual's differences are deemed detrimental, our opinion of this individual is transformed from awe and amazement to pity and sometimes even, scorn. As for me, I feel no sadness for the children at the Agent Orange group home. If anything, I might say that I even feel a small degree of jealousy of the freedom with which they are able to express themselves. Below are some pictures not only from our last day, but from some of our earlier days at the AO group home:

Some of the kids asked me to draw them pictures to color in. The coolest part was when we came back the next week, a bunch of the kids were drawing houses that looked just like the one I drew for them the week before!


One of my favorites!


Maybe one of my lesser favorites. Challenging might be the right word.




The guy on the right works for the AO group home and has this really awesome customized motorbike that all of the kids flock to when he comes into work!






The main room of the Agent Orange group home


One of my favorites!!


Our party for our last visit




Note my enthusiasm for being kissed...


And yet, for some reason, when they kiss each other, I think it's cute.

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost;
that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
--Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

Life has been rich and full lately AND I have had the good fortune of eating lots of donuts. Or, I have had the good fortune of eating lots of donuts lately AND as a result, life has been exceedingly rich and full. Either way I choose to interpret my reality, I am happy to report that I have been thoroughly enjoying myself these past few weeks and am truly starting to dread the notion that I will be leaving Danang in just twenty five days. Although it is easy enough to relegate the looming specter of my imminent depature to the far corners of my mind while I am out and about chowing down on various delectables with friends, the unexpectedly rapid manner in which the academic and volunteer portions of this program are winding down is beginning to force me to face the fact that I will not be in Vietnam for much longer. This morning, Map, Le, Chau, and I went down to the airport to see off Lauren, one of the two girls from Australia I have had the pleasure of getting to know this past month. While I was really upset to see Lauren go (although envious she is off to Thailand to spend some well-deserved time on the beach!), I must admit that I wanted to get away from the airport as soon as possible; with my own departure growing closer that I want to believe, saying goodbye to Lauren felt a bit too much like a dry run for events that I am, as of yet, unprepared and unwilling to contemplate.

Last Thursday was our final English class. While it was difficult managing to come up with engaging activities each week while also grappling with the complications that accompany three teachers with three very different teaching styles sharing one classroom, I would say that, overall, our class and my first foray into teaching English as a second language went rather well, all things considered. I made some great new friends and at least a few of our students became more confident in holding conversations with foreigners. My only regret is that we were not able to do more to integrate and hold the interests of all of our students, as it is difficult to include everyone in unstructured discussions, which is mostly what our classes ended up being.

I think I am beginning to understand that the seemingly effortless teaching style of many of the professors I love so dearly is not to be confused with no preparation and talking off the cuff. Teaching is hard work and takes practice, but this experience here in Vietnam only reaffirms my belief that teaching is exactly what I will find myself doing in the future, a prospect I was once (okay, maybe sometimes still am) a little wary of. Coming from a family of teachers, one always wants to assert one's individuality by sticking up a big middle finger to all precedents set by those who came before. The thing is, I am coming to terms with the idea that maybe this "teaching gene" is part of who I am as an individual. There is nothing inherently lame about wanting to do something that others have done before, as long as this desire comes from a genuine place and is rooted in authenticity. In addition, if wanting to be a teacher of some kind aligns me with the likes of my family, sign me up for the job right now.

Well, not just yet. Despite my propensity for planning, preparation and all things related to serious affairs, I love that my time here in Vietnam has afforded me the opportunity to relax and experience what life is like with minimal obligations and no real direction. In the past two months, I have read ten books. I have fully embraced my Vietnamese nickname of "Lazy Kid", indulging in daily afternoon naps and making a point to write down every one of my dreams. This past weekend, some friends and I spent the evening in Hoi An, and as per usual, the designated shopping journey dissolved into a night of binge-eating and fresh beer drinking. There is time in the future (the TOO close future! real school! real job! real concerns!) for severity, so for now I will continue to chug along on this adventure I am having without giving much thought to what it is exactly I am doing here, such as perhaps eating too many donuts!

Just the cutest lil' Chi-hua-hua I've ever seen!

I know you want some, too bad I am not sharing.

Le and Chau


It was impossible to distinguish between the river and the road
due to flooding in Hoi An

On my way to becoming a real Vietnamese girl, I've already got the face mask and completely covered arms and legs down


Aftermath of our evening with homemade beer

I am really going to miss Hannah and Lauren :[

EVEN MORE HANOI!

During our visit to Hoa Lo Prison (perhaps better known by its nickname--the"Hanoi Hilton"- given by American POWs interred here during the war), I was stopped in my tracks by this picture of a female prisoner held by the French for her revolutionary actions against the colonial government. For one, she looks, in my opinion, remarkably like my good friend Map. Something about this woman's vacant stare prompted me to ask myself: could I do what she did? Is there anything that I believe in so much so that I would sacrifice my personal freedom to achieve it? So many of my personal heroes are people who have done just this, but I will honestly admit that I just don't think I am there yet. Despite my slight disappointment that I have yet to become an individual with particularly strong convictions, I'm not too worried about my wavering dedication. In order to determine what I am passionate about, it is imperative that I keeping learning and seeking out new experiences!

The severed heads of anti-French activists during the early twentieth century

During the Vietnam/American War (I really cannot decide on which term I feel more comfortable using, as the war is referred to as the American War here and I am writing this blog from Vietnam while simultaneously being informed of a new historical perspective that has challenged much of what I learned about in history class), John McCain was a prisoner at the "Hanoi Hilton". In the early 2000s, he made a visit to his former place of captivity, an act of compassion which, although I still am not a fan of his politics, helped me to see the former presidential candidate in a more human light.

This is one aspect of the Vietnamese tourist boom that continues to unsettle me: the ever present souvenir shops. It is not that I am opposed to the purchasing of gifts for family and friends, but I am just not sure that a former prison where countless individuals suffered and lost their lives is the place for a shop of this nature.

Original Prison Door

In the 1940s, prisoners escaped through these sewer drains

A sight I will sorely miss

Hoan Kiem Lake

Vietnam Museum of Ethnography, probably one of my favorite museums that I have ever been to.

In the yard behind the museum, they had many recreations of the traditional dwellings of the ethnic minority groups of Vietnam. Walking on this floor made of bamboo in a house that was many feet off of the group made me exceedingly nervous!

A ritual funeral tree at the Museum of Ethnography

Previously mentioned house with bamboo floor

I found my dream bedroom in one of the display houses at the Museum of Ethnography

Water Puppeteers at the end of the performance (expect videos soon!)

MORE HANOI!
Leftover decorations from the celebration of
Vietnam's 1,000 year anniversary at the Temple of Literature

More decorations--these flower arrangements were really intense!

And even more intense! (this sign is made entirely out of flowers)

It is considered good luck for students to rub the heads of these turtle statues located at the Temple of Literature, Vietnam's first national university. Considering the 82 statues, which detail the accomplishments of the university's most successful students, are many centuries old, most of their heads are blackened and well-worn from frequent touching.

Phoenix statue at the Temple of Literature

Altar devoted to the university's historically most revered teacher. I cannot imagine how any of my professors would respond if their students were to present such an offering!

Hanoi during the daytime