Taking ‘Em In: An Overlap of Two Stories

Since I started working at this school, I’ve been spending Thursday mornings at an orphanage called Go Vap. Go Vap keeps literally hundreds of kids, and is doing the best they can with limited resources.

A huge number of these kids have some type of developmental disability. In Vietnam, many believe that if a woman gives birth to a disabled child, she must have done something wrong in her life. That, combined with the limited financial resources of so many families, leaves many of the country’s most vulnerable kids with orphanages like Go Vap.

And as I mentioned, it’s so hard for these places to remain sufficiently staffed with everything they need to create a full life for all of the children there.

Just yesterday, I was with a little girl no older than 18 months, though it’s always hard to gauge the ages. A woman came over and told me that the girl has just been adopted by a family in Italy, and that she will be going over there soon.

Who knows who that family is, and how long they have been at this, but I was momentarily baffled by the magnitude of it. Although she is completely unaware of what’s happening, this girl started looking like the luckiest girl in the world. There are kids who spend their entire childhoods in this orphanage, and she will soon have her very own parents to take care of her. She won’t be one of 30 toddlers in a room desperate for any love and attention they can get. She’ll be somebody’s only one.

She’s going to start hearing a different language, and will one day speak Italian better than the Vietnamese she has heard her entire life up til now. Someday she’ll probably realize how much her life changed one day when she was 18 months old, and how different it all could have been.

…..

My mom also recently told me about a friend of hers from LaGrange who has been going through the process of adopting a baby girl – Kai – from Hanoi, in the northern part of Vietnam. She has a blog that I recently read almost every word of. It has been a long, bureaucratic process that seems to have lasted almost a year since they first learned of who she is. They still haven’t met her, but will come here to get her next week!

So far this year, her family in Georgia has set up her room, celebrated her six-month birthday, received pictures of her from Vietnam, guessed at what she can do at 6 months as compared to her older brother, and they just this week celebrated her one-year birthday.

And she has no idea that there’s this family aaallll the way over there in the United States that she’s already been a part of for such a long time.

That’s just such cool stuff. Two very lucky girls and two very lucky families. Ever since, I’ve had that song about the orphan trains by Utah Phillips (and one OPFM Bluegrass band) rolling around in my head:

And one by one we parted like some living lost and found. One by one we all were taken in.

Crossing fingers for the rest.

Mr. Deadbolt, More Interesting Food, and Pop Stars

As of my last report on Mr. Deadbolt, I was not a huge fan. You may remember he’s our building security guard and possibly our building manager – still haven’t figured out that part.

Tonight around 11, Frederikka came back to the apartment reporting that Daniel had stayed downstairs, to have a beer and share some food with Mr. Deadbolt and his little mafia. I was headed out to run some errands, assuming that this little gathering was some kind of no-girls-allowed thing.

I come back a little later. Daniel’s gone, but Mr. Deadbolt gestures for me to sit down and have a beer. So, I sit down and have a beer. None of these guys speaks any English at all, and the furthest we get in Vietnamese is “how old are you?” and “where are you from?” (I’m getting a little better!) Every time there’s an awkward silence, someone just raises their beer and says “Cheers” and everyone toasts. This happened probably 7 times in the 20 minutes I was sitting with them.

In the meantime, they shared some of their food with me. I thought it was tasty, but wondered about this one little round thing they served me. It didn’t exactly taste like meat, but what was it? Chicken testicles, as I later find out. Sometimes it’s best just not to know these things.

Twenty minutes in, the woman who lives across the hall from me entered the building – her name is Mai. She is a total sweetheart. She speaks some English, and her husband’s a doctor, and she had previously invited me over for tea though I had thus far failed to respond to the invitation. Partially due to time constraints and partially due to the awkwardness I felt in walking over to my neighbor’s house and going “so, how about that tea you mentioned?”

So she eventually asked me to come with her up to her apartment so we could have that tea. When I walked in I met her son. He spoke pretty good English, so we chatted about the beaches and hobbies and such. We agreed that he would teach me to kite surf if I help him with English.

Then he mentioned that he’s a “composer.” I should have noticed that his hair was highlighted. I also should have noticed that there were posters of him all over the house. I should have noticed his fancy iPhone, and the professional-style pictures he had of himself on there. But, I didn’t put all of this together.

So it turns out his name is Luong Bang Quang, and he’s a top-10 pop artist in Vietnam.

I mean, OK.

They are a very sweet family. It’s good to have them around.

My Roommate and Fruit

So here’s my fabulous roommate from Cyprus, Daniel. We have gotten along fabulously. He arrived in Saigon right after I did. Laid back, intelligent, huge internal compass, an adventurous eater, and just an all around stellar individual.

His girlfriend, Frederikka, from Denmark. Another fabulous person to have around. Everything I just said about Daniel – same same for her.

So that was while we were eating some rather tame fruit. Some apples and bananas and the fruit below, which I have yet to identify, but it is rather delicious. Kinda like a grape with a thick skin.

But THEN. Oh then. Last night, Daniel-the-adventurous-eater came home with a pound of durian. Durian is something of a legendary fruit here – the king of fruits. I’ve heard various reviews. “You love it or you hate it.” “It’s good if you can get past the smell.” “Banned from some restaurants.” “Delicacy.” All of these things. So we tried it. I mean, how bad could it be? It’s a fruit for heaven’s sake! So it looks like this:

I'm trying to upload this photo without even looking at it too closely. My stomach still isn't responding well.

The best comparison I have is to get you to think of a texture somewhere between chicken and cheese, and then put on that a smell and taste much like a dead rat.

After trying it, I promptly eat and drink everything I can get my hands on in the kitchen to try and forget the scent. Frederikka and I run out back to try to distance ourselves, while Daniel is inside trying to eat the rest so that he wouldn’t have wasted his money.

So, that’s Durian. Try it if you dare – it is the king of fruit.

Easy Rider: Reflections on Driving in Saigon

My new wheels. Bought off of my roommate's girlfriend's roommate (Bueller?). My favorite part: this baby's 100% electric. No gas for me!

Read below for all the reasons this is an extremely important part of my life now. After much deliberation, I chose this over its competitors - Snoopy, and "Earth Judgment Day."

For the last month, I’ve been walking around Saigon, so I learned one major traffic lesson pretty quickly.

Traffic never stops for pedestrians – Since traffic signs are nonexistent and traffic lights are mostly ignored, this means that you never get a “clearing” to cross the street. Instead, you just start walking, sometimes with dozens of oncoming bikes, and the bikes will part, much like the Red Sea, to just go around you. You must trust that this will happen. So far, it hasn’t failed me.

In the two days since I’ve purchased my bike, one specific bit has been causing me great problems. The part that says traffic signs are nonexistent and traffic lights ignored. I had a friend from here the other day literally go “oh yeah, those don’t matter.”

So, quite counterintuitively, it works to your extreme disadvantage to be timid on the road. And by timid I mean, you know, paying attention to traffic lights and yielding at intersections.

I also have been wondering about the horn usage since I got here. Horn usage here works like this (and this is really not an embellishment in the slightest): honk your horn every 5-15 seconds, even when there’s no apparent reason. The end.

Just this morning I figured out why.

If you are in an accident, due to the fact that there are almost literally no traffic rules, it wasn’t your fault as long as you honked your horn. The logic: if you honked your horn, they should’ve gotten out of your way. You might ask “how on earth could you prove that you honked your horn??” Oh the proof is not so much the point. It sounds like they make eyewitnesses hang around, and it’s their testimony to your horn-honking that counts.

I’ve had the feeling since I got my motorbike that Vietnam has a culture of driving to make up for the lack of rules for driving, and I’m having a severe case of culture shock. For now, I’m just steering clear of the 4-wheeled vehicles and honking my horn to the beat of a drum.

So far so good.

Every 4th November: In Absentia Again

Well we’re T minus 11 days to the election, and I feel like a kid at Christmas. (Note: Whoever you are, you can keep reading, this isn’t about one side or the other. I come in peace, sweet family. )

I can’t sleep at night. I waste time at work poring over all the same articles about what’s going on with the polls and campaigns in the States. I stay up at night watching the same swing state segments on BBC. My nails are gone (not to say they were ever all that “there,” but relatively speaking). Perhaps one reason for my fascination is homesickness – the desire to see my country people talking about my country’s issues, but here’s the thing:

This is the second time in a row I’ve been abroad for the presidential elections. And both times I’ve been absolutely astounded at the way people pay attention. The whole world is buzzing, as I’m starting to believe the whole world does every time a US Election comes around. They all know the latest news, and many are counting the days.

When I’m in the States and other countries are having elections, it’s usually second page news. And we rarely feel as if the results will directly affect us. We rarely have emotions involved in it. When I’m abroad for US elections, it seems a wonder (though a sensible one) that the whole world isn’t voting, for all the ways it can affect their lives. We rarely have to be such bystanders in something that feels so monumental to us.

So what I’m not doing is encouraging votes for anyone in particular. But we are extremely lucky to be able to participate in such a darn important process. I think it’s easy to forget the way that people all over the world watch what’s happening in our country and care about it.

Four years later, it still amazes me.

Nothing a Little Bribe Can’t Fix

I have a roommate now. His name is Daniel and he’s a delightful English teacher from Cyprus. We met kind of randomly as I was signing the lease for this apartment. He walked in asking if there was anyone looking to share. I told him I was, and he eventually decided to move in. I think we are going to get along fabulously, but, more on him later, this is not the point.

On Friday night he was out with his girlfriend, and called me at 12:15 saying the security guard wouldn’t let him in our building. We figured the guard just didn’t realize that he lived here, so I went downstairs to try to tell him. The first problem is that the guard speaks no English and I (still) speak basically no Vietnamese. He kept pointing at his watch, like it was too late for Daniel to be coming home. Daniel was never allowed in, and ended up sleeping at his girl’s place.

I called the landlord yesterday to find out that there is essentially an 11:00 curfew at this building (THANKS FOR TELLING ME THAT AFTER I SIGNED THE CONTRACT) but that we could probably “work something out” with the security guard (who is there 24/7 anyway, apparently only to refuse to open the door and say “no, no, no” to anyone who tries to enter . . .  this is the function of a deadbolt, not a human security guard).

So last night, I got home and assumed that Mr. Deadbolt would at least be willing to consider letting me in since we had started discussing this. Did he let me in? No. Did he even open the door to see who I was? No. Did I have to find another place to sleep at 2AM? YES. For those readers who don’t believe I can get angry . . . man you should have seen me. No more Mr. Nice Guy (why isn’t there a female equivalent to this phrase?) My ears can actually steam. You didn’t know that, did you? Well, some of you did, I guess.

[Sidenote: the reason I was so late returning home is b/c I was busy dancing to a remix of Country Roads in a Saigon bar. You know it - "Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong. West Virginia, mountain mama, take me home, country roads." Somehow I didn't anticipate hearing this song here.]

So this morning I promptly called the landlord and we met with the security guard to work this out. The solution - bribe the heck out of him on a monthly basis. If we do that, we can come and go in our own home as we wish. This better work.

I currently dislike Mr. Deadbolt very much. As cousin Ella has informed us, we don’t say hate, or stupid, or @#$%.

The good news is that we know no one sketchy will be allowed in our building in the middle of the night. This is good.

Thursday Dinner

You may remember my new friend Vinh – the 20-something Vietnamese guy who hangs out in the backpacker district every weekend just so he can practice his English? My friend Kelly and I joined him and some of his family and friends for dinner on Thursday night. When they said they would cook for us, they weren’t playin’ – fried spring rolls, fresh spring rolls, dumplings, lots of noodles I don’t know the name of, a big vegetable soup, coconuts to drink, and fruit, flan and tea for dessert . . . on the roof-top terrace . . . . WHAT?! They were delightful – the people I mean. Well, and the food. We just had the best time. Below are a couple photos:

My Digs

I moved into my apartment today, and as you may have guessed, I couldn’t be more excited. It’s still kinda bare bones (cable and internet still on the way, a couch and coffee table, two beds, one wardrobe, a kitchen table . . . that’s about it so far). I’m surprised that I’m excited by what a blank slate it is – in the past that would have just irritated me. Now I get to add color and stuff and make it a home. Nothing fancy, but it will be fun. Here are some pictures of the apartment as it stands now.

I really like this living room, that's actually a pretty sweet stereo there. I haven't figured out how to work it yet (but I've seen it done), this is one of my major deficiencies in life. I also can't turn on the TV. Jooohn? Can you come help??

The very first thing I did in this apartment: wash my backpack-stinking laundry

The bathroom/shower

One thing you may know about bathrooms in Vietnam (and much of Asia, it seems) is that the shower and the bathroom itself are all one. I was with a friend the other night who said he had gotten attached to the water-all-over-the-place bathrooms, and would be confused when he got back to Canada. Methinks I won’t have the same problem.

I just realized that the last 6 postings or so have been about this apartment process. I’ll try to change it up soon.

Mission Accomplished, and Trannies and Vixens Revisited

First bit of news: I found a house! Well, an apartment I suppose. I’m moving in tomorrow and I’m so very excited. I’m ready to stop living out of bags for a little while! It’s extremely close to the school (and everything else), it’s 2 bedrooms, has a balcony and a big giant couch (these were the important things). And it was much cheaper than it should have been, so . . . goodbye to the backpackin’ hostel-hoppin’ Katie for now. I couldn’t be more pleased.

Also, I just reviewed some of my blog stats for fun. I can’t see many details in general, but I did come across something I find most entertaining. By FAR the most common searches that lead to my blog are, in order:

• Costa Rican trannies
• Caribbean trannies
• Little trannies
• Vietnam trannies
• Then any number of things related to “vixens”

I’m sure that this blog is most disappointing to those searchers, though I truly wish this weren’t the case. I have to say that material wasn’t even my own – these were straight out of the mouth of my TEFL teacher in Costa Rica – I was just reporting back to the peanut gallery. If you’re asking yourself “when the heck was Katie talking about trannies and vixens?!” It was when I was talking about grammar class. See here. See how I said it’s disappointing? That’s all, folks. Sending my love.

In pursuit of a dwelling place. . .

Well apparently I got here just in time for the expat real estate boom in Saigon. Hoorah for me.

I backed out on the last apartment b/c it was so damn far away. Now I’m sucking it up and saying “ok, fine, I will pay more than $200/month for a place. For heaven’s sake I’m from Chicago, when did $300 start sounding expensive to me??”

Oh right, when the economy went to hell in a handbasket.That’s it.

I was just talking with Mr. Jon, the guy who was showing me apartments this morning. He said he’s heard that finding an apartment here is like finding a job. I can attest to the fact that, no, it’s much harder. A job only took one day. This has taken two weeks going on three.

Mr. Jon lived in California for 16 years working in real estate and banking. He moved back here to do this two years ago (talk about riding the waves, friends). Everyone told him he was crazy for coming back.

I’d say he outsmarted us all, in almost perfect fashion.