Holiday Photo Report

This holiday season I made two trips. First, a trip down south to visit a longtime friend of my grandmother and see her hometown in Ben Tre and her current residence in Ho Chi Minh City. Second, a trip to Laos with my host uncle Hùynh and sister Hạnh that included a trip across the border to Thailand for an afternoon.

Click on the links for the detailed report:

Impressions of Saigonese Soups (and other secondary things)

Visit to Ben Tre including a snake farm, lots of coconuts, and heaps of fresh fruit.

Trip to Laos (and an afternoon in Thailand) at the invitation of my host family.

Slippery Green Leaves of Grace

The spring rain has begun. I heard it falling and splashing under motorcycle tires from my bed this morning. Naturally I was not looking forward to being wet and cold and most likely late for work because the buses are always overloaded on rainy days. But for some reason, when I left the house, umbrella in hand, what I noticed was not the mud in the gutters or the puddles or the dripping hem of my left shirtsleeve, but rather the way the rain made all the branches of the trees black and the leaves a slick and vivid green.

The reason for this happy turn of events was that as I was walking to the bus stop I saw that the gate of Hà Pagoda was open and decided to step inside, buses and work be damned.

Perhaps the fact that I've lived for a year and a half in a city of four million honking scooters has eroded my standards for quiet. Or perhaps there really is something about a walled garden, incense, a fishpond, and rain falling on a tiled courtyard that is more silent than silence. In either case, the effect was the same: I began to settle down. And since praying is what you do in a pagoda, I started to pray. And as I prayed, I was given a gift.

As I watched the incense float heavily off into the wet air, the gift I received was the realization that this is not about me. Yesterday was not about me, or what I did, or how much fun I had with my friends last night. Today is not about me, or the long soggy commute to the office ahead of me, or the computer I will sit in front of when I finally get there. And tomorrow is most certainly not about me either, or about the pain and pleasure I will experience then. And because it is not about me, I am free to notice the world for what it is, rather than for the obstacles it puts in my path. I am free to notice the color of the leaves in rain.

I cannot put into words what a relief it was to remember this, what a relief it is every time I truly pray to remember that I am not the center of the universe, nor the master of my own destiny. So I won't try. Let it suffice to say simply that I walked through an open door like grace and received there the eyes to see the true color of things. The true color of my small self, and the true color of this majestic, sopping wet, slippery green world made by God.

Civic Pride is the New Patriotism

Oh, Hoàn Kiếm Lake!

Oh, Hero-King Lý Thái Tổ!

Oh, morning traffic!

Oh, pork trotters with noodles,

and the star fruit tree on my balcony!

Oh, Hà Nội! May I count the ways in which I love you? You speak my 3rd language; you are my 9th home. And though, admittedly, that sounds less than romantic, can I help it that I was born into a family of modern-day gypsies? I have loved each of my homes, but you are indeed something special. And what do lovers do best but write each other love poems? Here, for you, Hà Nội, the first love poem I have ever written to a place:

For Hanoi, after a stroll along West Lake

And what if you do speak my third language? Have I not loved you as my own—yes, and even more than all the other cities?

Did I not just this afternoon discover a shred of quiet lakeside that took my breath—such was the contrast between

the joyful, eager madness

of a Friday route home and

the fishermen of this afternoon

who with such sedate patience cast

and reeled, cast again, and reeled.

With same such patience I have wound myself into your streets. Just to know

the taste of phở at dawn

the scent of the milk flower in fall

the baking heat and wet

when we all go about mad as hornets or

too tired to pick a fight.

Have I not felt

the quiet triumph

after downing a cà phê nâu nóng

before accomplishing a single thing and

the chagrin of spending three times the going rate on xe ôm?

Your charms and your traps, I have fallen for them all. Will you not acknowledge it?

I was not born into your rose-colored past, but I can see

as clearly as any your writhing present, and my heart

aches with the pangs of a patriot to see

Thống Nhất Park

laid waste in the name of progress and luxury hotels.

And the more subtle shock of peering from under

the ancient tiled roofs of
Quốc Tử Giám to see

a bevy of tuổi 'teen' in plastic hip-hop sleek

with matching smirks.

Have I not loved you all the more for your contradictions?

I have been there in the green quiet, and the red smoke,

and the gritty traffic I have become

part of your scenery, watching you

attentively from under a banian. Will you deny it?

Oh, blazing,

running, crashing,

howling, growing city of my third language, so painstakingly learnt and loved—

Will you still take me for a tourist?

-----------

phở = the national dish, a soup made with flat rice noodles

cà phê nâu nóng = hot espresso with condensed milk

xe ôm = motorbike taxi

Thống Nhất Park = Unification Park (formerly Lenin Park), the largest park inside the city

Quốc Tử Giám = the Temple of Literature

tuổi 'teen' = teenagers

-----------

Now, about the title of this post. There is something about being in a foreign country, and especially about making that foreign country into your home, that makes you see your native land in a different way. I have never been one to be very patriotic. A brief survey of 20th century world history—even a glance at the morning news—was enough to replace any pride I might have had with shame at my country's bloody escapades. But as the holidays approach and my thoughts turn more frequently towards the land of my birth, for better or for worse, I have realized two things.

• First, that every country has its sources of shame. Some of Vietnam's sources of shame I have hinted at in the poem above. Consumerism, lack of respect for the environment, etc. But you will notice that it is equally full of sources of pride and affection that allow me to accept it for what it is. Why shouldn't it be the same with my own country?

• And second, that
  
  

  The United States ≠ The U.S. Government

  Or perhaps more accurately,
  
  

  The United States > The U.S. Government

  Even though the government is what holds them together, the states—and each distinct city and family within them—is its own animal, with its own set of flaws and charms. And while I still can't often hold my head up and proudly declare my membership in the "Yoo-nited States of Amerrrrica," I can indeed be proud of my family and of my city (whichever one that happens to be at the moment).

So today, even as I write love poems to Hà nội, I am feeling more comfortable with my identity as a native of the U.S. And I am confident that the ways in which I have learned to love this city will only help me all the more to love the next city I end up in. Isn't funny how things like this work sometimes? You have to love yourself in order to love others. You have to lose your life in order to save it. And sometimes you have to leave in order to really come home.

love,

Hannah

Welcome to Club 62 Nghĩa Tân! or, Third Time's the Charm

Here it is, my home. For real this time.

After being kicked out of my home by the complication police, moving back in with my boss, and then passing a rather dramatic two weeks at a house which I eventually chose to leave, I have found a host family.

I have just posted a virtual tour of the house on facebook. And just in time to celebrate my move, Thế Giới Publishers held a children's Mid-Autumn Festival party in which I played the role of chị Hằng, the woman in the moon.

Here is a picture of my host family. From left to right, we have Tám (pronounced sort of like "Tom," means "eight"), Hiếu (pronounced "hew," means "filial piety") and Hạnh (pronounced kind of like "Hank," means "happiness").

Hạnh is my co-worker, so I call her "chị" (older sister) instead of "cô" (aunt). That makes her husband my older brother and her son my nephew.

This family is atypical in a few other respects, too. First, unlike most families, which have two children, this family has only one because, in Hạnh's words, it's "exhausting." Second, most nuclear families live with the husband's parents, but this family lives with Hạnh's father and mother, Uncle Huỳnh ("H-wing") and Aunt Hồng ("home," means "pink"). And third, my host "older sister" is a bad cook and has no shame in admitting it. We frequently eat out when Aunt Hồng is gone.

I can tell things are settling down now because I have established some solid routines. For instance, every morning chị Hạnh wakes me up at seven and I go down to the kitchen for my morning ritual.

This little domestic picture you see here is very dear to my heart because it is the 100% certified authentic Vietnamese way to get caffeinated: Trung Nguyên brand coffee beans (grown in Dà Lạt and roasted to a strength of 5 on a scale of 1-8), steeped in a stainless steel filter, sweetened with Ông Thọ* condensed milk, and stirred with a dinky tin spoon.

*Ông Thọ is the name of the god of longevity, who for some unspecified reason is always depicted with a protruding forehead.




Another routine dear to my heart is the morning commute. Check out this album to see the sights, some ancient, some modern, and all rather off-kilter and out of focus, that chị Hạnh and I pass every day on our way to work. Believe it or not, this is one of the highlights of my day because...(drumroll)...I have learned to drive motorbike!






Finally, a third routine we have developed is going out for evening drinks. We always order the same thing: fruit juice for me, iced coffee for anh Tám, and yoghurt coffee for chị Hạnh and Hiếu. The cup in the foreground is tea, provided free by the cafe.

I used to think it was lame when people always ordered the same thing, but I'm coming around to this routine thing. We are indeed creatures of habit. In the right amount, routines support us and let us know what to expect, like school and work schedules. They also refresh us, like the weekly rest on Saturday and Sunday. Or they keep us in shape, like regular exercise and going to church. So what I mean to say in this rather scattered blog post is, I am doing well. Thanks as always for your prayers and support.

Back to the Old Chopping Block

This summer I have been lucky enough to take not one, but TWO vacations. Check out these albums.



Sầm Sơn beach was the site of my Very Vietnamese Vacation.






Then it was off to the U.S.A. to enjoy some genuine hometown Americana.




Finally, "Optimus Prime goes to America" is the trilingual story of my four-inch friend, the transformer and polyglot Optimus Prime, who tagged along with me.


But the fun is now over, and I have to get back to the old chopping block.

I have been back in Hanoi now for three and a half weeks, and things are pretty much back to normal. By "normal" I mean to say that things are not going as planned. Just to make sure I didn't fall under the erroneous assumption that I really understand how things work in Vietnam, after a week with my new host family I was informed that I had to move out.

According to the police, that particular area--near the train station--is "complicated," and no amount of letters from MCC, from The Gioi Publishers, or even from PACCOM (the governmental branch that deals with NGOs) will convince them to let me stay. And apparently it's not about fishing for bribes, either. Nope. It's just..."complicated."

So I am back at my boss's house, which is not so bad because it means I get to hang out with the new SALTers, Calah, and Alicia, whose blogs, by the way, are also awesome. (Click on their names! Do it!)

This year I will be working half-time with MCC projects and the other half with The Gioi Publishers. For today I'm at The Gioi, and I had forgotten how entertaining it can be sometimes at the old chopping block. At the moment I am hacking away at a French-to-English translation entitled "The Land" (as if there were only one in the world). Here are some delightful tidbits:

• "The Vietnamese traditional town is a vegetal one." (p.2)
• "Resorting to geomancy and the equilibrium of flux, the town does not at all break up with its landscape territory, but rather integrates it in man's dwellings and works in a continual and permanent way." (p.3)
• "Thus, beyond the Western reading of the rupture between town and countryside, here, a first deep identity makes itself found. By doing so, a generating principle of the urban space of the delta gets clear, proceeding through the confined space of the villages." (p.4) [and so on and so forth for 21 pages]

If anyone can tell me what the "equilibrium of flux" is or what exactly it is that supposedly "gets clear," please call me. 0127410128.

In conclusion, as you can see, things are right back to normal. The combined mysteries of Vietnamese police and French academicians have thrust me back into nearly the same state I was in when I first came to Vietnam. Namely, a state made up of equal parts confusion and amusement, combined with a growing awareness that I have a lot to learn. It's not a bad state to be in. It almost feels like home.

Yet another thanks to those who helped me journey back home this July. It was both restful and fun. To those of you whom I was able to see, it was a joy. To those of you whom I wasn't, you are still in my thoughts and prayers.

God bless,
Hannah

Adventures in TV Stardom

Everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, but in Vietnam, if you are a foreigner who speaks Vietnamese, you can have a whole hour of it Tuesday night at 8:05.

Yes, I have now made my debut on Hanoi TV Channel 1's "Tuesday Night Talk Show."

In case the name isn't clear, "Tuesday Night Talk Show" is a talk show that airs on Tuesday night. The general premise is, get 10 young foreigners

together with 5 moderately famous Vietnamese celebrities


and have them discuss different topics. The topics I participated in were:

1. Your most embarrassing moment
2. Your best friend
3. Breaking up
4. Understanding American Culture

Because people from all over the world participate, you get quite a range of views on each subject, generating some pretty interesting conversation. For example, in the "Breaking up" session this young Chinese girl insisted that if your parents don't like your boyfriend/girlfriend, that's a good reason to break up.







When you throw a few comedians into the mix, the dialogue gets even better.











Then of course since this is Vietnam, where karaokes outnumber dance clubs 100:1, we just had to have some singing.




And then they had us tell all of North Vietnam our most embarrassing moments, breakup stories, etc.



And at the end we danced.



All in all, it was great fun. Plus it was a great opportunity to learn words like

"makeup" (trang điểm)


"lighting check" (kiểm tra đèn)


"cute MC" (MC dễ thương)


and most importantly, "totally wonderful friends who came to support me and to whom I am very grateful" (các bạn cực kỳ tốt bụng đến cổ vũ em, và em rất cảm ơn)


A very special thanks to Mr. Long, my boss, who took all these pictures.

Homeward bound

Xin cảm ơn! Mil gracias! Thank you so much to all who responded to my cry for passage. I now have enough money to get home. In fact, I even have a little extra, enough to cover language lessons for three months!

I will be in the US of A from July 12 through August 8. I am really looking forward to rest and to the chance to see my loved ones. I hope to make a trip out to Grand Rapids during the first week of August, so if you will be in the area, give me a shout at ani.forsythe@gmail.com.

Once again, thank you for your help, and may God bless you as you have blessed me.

Hope to see you soon.

And here is another batch of photo albums that have accumulated on facebook. Click on the title to be transfered to the album.

Standard tourist fodder: Everyone is always all "have you been to Ha Long Bay yet?" like if you haven't been there you haven't really lived yet. Well, now I can hold up my head with the rest of them.


Symphony in Green: Sri Lanka is now going through some serious conflict. During a trip there, fellow MCC worker Max Ediger and I visited the national botanical gardens. Even in a country at war, there are places of peace.



Pagoda under construction: Most of the pagodas I visit are small, quaint, and older than I can even imagine. The Bai Dinh Pagoda, however, is different in every respect.




Mr. Long's Wedding: Mr. Long, one of my English students, got married just after Tet this year. I was invited to be part of the party going to pick up the bride.