Rosabeth in Vietnam

My future life...

2009-07-17T06:31:00.000-07:00

...For the next month and a half! So I step on the plane tomorrow night. Yikes! The past few weeks have been very good for the most part as I've done all those last goodbyes with people, places and things in Ha Noi. Recently I've been feeling very happy to be in Viet Nam at the mom

So, my dear readers around the globe, this is roughly where I'll be for the foreseeable future. If we are in the same place at the same time, we should probably hang out!

July 18 - leave Viet Nam (tear)

July 19-24 - Akron for Re-Entry Retreat (can't wait!) + visiting Hannah's fam in Maryland (yay!)

July 25 - arrive home in Goshen!! (finally!) ...and will be there for the most part until...

2nd week-ish of Sept - go to Waterloo to start year #3 at UW (so excited about being a student again!)

I've said it before, but THANK YOU, everyone who has commented on this blog, emailed me, written me letters, visited me, skyped me and prayed for me over the past year. It has truly been a wonderful (full of wonders, though not always in the happy way) year. And now it's wonderful (in the happy way and also in the I wonder what it will be like way) that I'm coming home. I so look forward to seeing many of you very soon!

With much love and gratitude,

Rosabeth

My bicyle

2009-07-13T03:05:00.000-07:00

Goodbye, my bicycle.

I feel saying goodbye to my bicycle here is kind of an understatement. I think that more than most anything else, by trusty blue bike embodies Viet Nam for me. As I was biking along the other day and thinking about writing this blog post (a lot of thinking has gotten done on that bike), I was asking myself why it is I feel so strongly about my bicycle. Here is some of what I came up with…

Biking has probably been about the most consistent part of my life in Ha Noi. Along with eating rice every day and sleeping every night. A lot of things have been inconsistent over the course of this year: my job changed, my host-family changed, my relationships changed, my social patterns changed, my self-understanding changed. Growth and change are all well and good, of course, but often difficult and painful. I don’t really enjoy inconsistency. However, 98% of the days I lived in Viet Nam, I biked somewhere. I enjoy this.

Biking gave me independence. Daily bike commutes were some of my most independent times. I could stop and go without asking my parents’ permission. In the unaccountable time between work and home, I could meet a friend for coffee or stop to buy something. I could also get myself around in the evenings and on weekends without have to ask my host-family for help or negotiate the often unenjoyable services of a motorbike taxi driver.

Despite countless well-deserved complaints against Ha Noi traffic, I actually enjoyed being a part of it most of the time, and at the least, I appreciated it for its metaphorical value. Let me explain. Maybe the reason my bicycle seems so “Viet Nam” to me is because the traffic that constantly surrounded it (and me) seems so “Viet Nam” to me. It has everything—it’s gracious and rude, chaotic and ordered, passive and aggressive, selfish and generous. These contradictions baffle me. But I really believe if you look deeply at any culture, including your own, you are bound to find at least as many contradictions as consistencies. Culture is baffling.

Above all, traffic in Ha Noi is functional to the people who create and maintain it. I feel that (based on 11 whole months of study) maybe this is what culture is about—it is a system that serves its members. If you follow most of the system’s rules, you are a member; if not, you are an outsider, a “foreigner,” and you will not be served. You will go crazy if you’re a foreigner but you expect others to understand your culture and follow its rules. Or if you expect others to appreciate your unsuccessful efforts to act out their culture; you don’t get points for effort.

Better to just give up a little bit of yourself. Go ahead, give some of yourself away, and see what happens. In fact, you have a surprising amount of self. And if you relax your hold on a small piece of it, you may just find that through that new gap in your soul, you can reach much more than you had before. Because if you expect a foreign culture to give up anything up for you… you will spend a lot of time crying.

(I just said “you” a lot, and I don’t mean to be giving advice. Really, I’m just talking about me.)

This is kind of how I feel about traffic in Ha Noi—if I applied North American rules of road etiquette to it or if I expect other travelers to give me a pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile when I almost got the turn right… well, I would just get really mad all the time (and probably cry), and nothing else would change.

Giving up your sense of being “wronged” on the road is really hard. In North America, I get mad when someone cuts me off and even madder if I don’t see their embarrassed and alarmed eyes in their rear-view mirror. They should at least be ashamed of themselves. This reaction of anger and condemnation gives me meaning, locates me in the matrix of social relations that shape my existence. I am an individual with certain rights (as is everyone else), and it is wrong for others to violate them. I have the right to space, to safety, to an enjoyable driving experience. These are not necessarily enshrined in a constitution, but the notion of individual “rights” documented there totally permeates the Western mindset.

Traffic in Ha Noi (from a Western perspective) is crazy. However, people rarely get angry. I found this astonishing at first, as my initial reaction was to start boiling with road rage within seconds. But before too long, I started to feel… I’m not sure exactly… like my angry was unnecessary. No one else was upset by the traffic patterns and, in fact, once I calmed down, I began to notice how truly functional it was. And actually enjoy the constant negotiation, the constant relationship you’re forced into with other travelers because no one is protected by “proper” rights, laws and traffic lights.

I’ve begun to wonder if the whole concept of rights is just an excuse for not having to get along with people around you—“We don’t have to talk because I’m suin’ yur ass!” But I digress. Another discussion for another time.

So on the road, I’ve let go of my right of way, my righteous indignation, my right to being anything but functional within this particular system. I’ve lost the sense of meaning that those “rights” gave me. Which can feel scary. But now I’ve gained this wonderful respect, affection and understanding for a way of being that at first was so upsetting. I really I think that biking the streets of Ha Noi is one of the things I will miss most about Viet Nam.

Compared to other upsetting systems I have attempted to adjust to, traffic was one of the easier ones really. But like I said, it creates perhaps the best metaphor—for losing yourself to find a new (and better) self. I hope that this is the self I will bring home with me… where I hope to loose it again. And again. And again.

My bicycle, thank you for giving me consistency, independence and helping me understand how to lose and find a self. I appreciate you and will miss you very much.

Bun cha

2009-07-09T07:20:00.000-07:00

Goodbye, bun cha.

"Bun" means a vermicelli-like noodle and "cha" means a kind of ground meat, in this case, pork. So when you order "bun cha" at a street food shop, you will get (1) a big plate of noodles, (2) a bowl (Morgan, thanks for the spell check!) of sweet and sour fish sauce with barbequed pork meatballs and usually some sliced kohlrabi and carrot, and (3) a basket for fresh herbs along the lines of mint, basil and bean sprouts. You add the noodles and herbs into the bowl's contents and proceed to eat chop stick fulls(?) until all your dishes are empty.

This dish is probably in about the #1 position on my "fav foods" list. Also probably at the top of the "reasons why I'm glad I decided not to be a vegetarian in Viet Nam" list. I can imagine waking up in the middle of the night, deciding in my half-dream state that I will definitly be walking down to the bun cha place for lunch today... and then crying when realize the closest bun cha shop is... well, too far for me to walk. Maybe Toronto? I'll have to check that out.

The picture above, taken a couple weeks ago, actually comes from the very shop where I ate my first bowl of bun cha during my first week in Viet Nam. It was a magical experience. I've been trying duplicate that ecstasy ever since. But, like cocaine, you only get your first hit once. Luckily, I don't think you'd die trying with bun cha.

So it's never quite the same, but especially in the last few weeks, I've been trying to eat as much bun cha as possible. I'd say I average one bowl a week. It's still pretty yummy the 30th time.

This post includes no reflections on Vietnamese culture and my collision with it--it is purely an ode of love to my dearest bun cha. I believe omnvioures across the globe can agree: it's ridiculously delicious.

Thank you, bun cha, for being perfect. My day is brighter when you're on the lunch menu. I appreciate you and will miss you very much.

Big trees

2009-07-05T06:15:00.000-07:00

Goodbye, big trees.

In the older part of the city, Ha Noi has some wonderful wide, (relatively) quite streets lined with these big old wonderful trees. Several times a week on my way to and from the Action for the City office, I bike along the street pictured above. Especially in the hot afternoon, I look forward to turning onto this street where the traffic is less intense and where at points the foliage forms a shady canopy over the road. Everything seems a little quieter and calmer when you're around ancient trees.

There was one afternoon when it was super hot and sunny around my office, but as I entered this part of town on my way home, I came on the heels of a rain shower. Abruptly, the pavement was wet with no sign of dust and the air was cool and clean. And the trees seemed to insulate this random bubble of fresh air, holding it for a just a moment so that we mortals might enjoy a few gulps before it ascends back into the mouth of God from whence it came. I was so surprised by my sudden good fortune to exist in such a sweet and wonderful bit of earth and time.

Apparently these trees are the work of French colonial city planners... well, perhaps one of their better ideas. Or maybe I should hate the trees because they are linked to occupation and oppression. When I first arrived in Viet Nam, I think if I'd known where they came from, I would have tried to hate the trees. For what they represent. These days, after almost a year here, I don't tie my mind and heart in idealist knots so much. I don't really have a counter-argument for why I shouldn't hate the trees. But I think that's kind of the point. I do, however, regularly revel in filling my lungs with their shady, green, cool, breezy breath whenever I pass through their realm.

Thank you, big trees, for cooling and refreshing my (and everyone's) commute. I appreciate you and will miss you very much.

Coffee shops everywhere

2009-06-28T02:24:00.001-07:00

Goodbye, coffee shops everywhere.

One thing I will sorely miss is the coffee shop culture of Ha Noi. There are seriously little coffee shops on every street in the city. You can suggest, "Hey, let's go for a coffee" anywhere at anytime of day and it will be immediately possible. There are a few chains, but most shops are family-run affairs. However, they somehow manage to be ridiculously uniform. You can pretty much count on the same menu, flavours, tables with pictures of movietars' faces on their tops, wicker chairs, fonts on the sign out front, and flimsy metal spoons wherever you go. Many of the shops don't even really have names; they just go by their street number. You can't see very clearly in the picture above, but it features Cafe 101, Cafe 99 and Cafe 97. Wow, so original...

But I think my initial nonplused reaction points to a really central and interesting value difference between Western and Vietnamese cultures--in the West, if you're not totally unique and innovative, you get scorned and left behind, while here, being original is... just not that important. This is evident in the way people dress and do their hair, the fact that half the motorbikes on the road are the same make, the repetitive style of houses and interior decoration, etc., etc. There is a margin for difference, but it's very small compared to what I'm used to in North America. It's so easy to pick out young Vietnamese people who have lived abroad of have ambition to... they just look different.

So it does seem ridiculous to my Westerner sensibilities that the coffee shops are almost all so generic and nondescript. However, they are almost all generically and nondescriptly delicious and satisfying. See, those English words hardly make sense in that sentence. We are not supposed to be impressed by anything less than "the one and only." But I am impressed by the coffee shops in Ha Noi. It's like having the quality assurance of a big chain, but without the corporate control. How does that happen? It's a wonderful mystery to my foreign little soul.

Coffee shops everywhere, thank you for being unoriginally wonderful. Always there and always refreshing. I appreciate you and will miss you very much.

Goodbyes... lac ran

2009-06-26T02:56:00.001-07:00

So all this re-entry stuff from MCC I've been reading keeps emphasizing: good goodbyes = good re-entry. And, of course, the opposite as well: bad goodbyes = death to your re-entry experience. Therefore, I have started making a lot of lists to make sure I get all my good goodbyes in before I go: people to see, activities to do, things to buy. I've also recently started thinking in colons a lot: obviously.

Along with people and places, apparently it's also important to say goodbye to things. With that in mind, I've decided to devote a few blog posts to these farewells. If all goes as planned, this will aid me in my detachment process and will also help me share with you some of the lovely mundane bits of my experience here, which do not usually make it onto the blog. It seems these everyday little joys are what I will miss most when I am not here anymore. So without further adieu...

Goodbye "lac ran" (fried peanuts)

You would not believe how delightful these little roasted nuts are. They are a regular dish at the MCC office, and I do believe that no one in Viet Nam makes better lac ran than Co Tu (the MCC cook featured in the post about my work at MCC). They add a fabulous nutty crunch to any bowel of steamed rice (wow, I feel like a commercial) and are also good for snacking on before the meal (when you're waiting hungrily for everyone to sit down) or after (when you're feeling nicely satisfied but don't mind munching on something while you continue to chat with you fellow diners). And I would have to say, eating them with sliced pumpkin friend with garlic and scallions is probably in the top 5 of my favourite dishes in Viet Nam. More on those other dishes to come!

I have asked Co Tu to call me down to the kitchen the next time she makes them so I can watch and learn. She assures me it's very easy: just fry the raw peanuts in a little bit of oil, stirring constantly, then wait for them to cool before lightly salting. So it does sound pretty easy... I'm still a little dubious about my ability to reproduce this delicacy independently on the other side of the world. You can buy raw peanuts in North America, right? I've just never tried. For now, I am just trying to eat as many as possible here. Even if I can make them by myself back home, I'm sure it just won't be quite the same.

Lac ran, thank you for livening up my lunches. So simple, yet so wholesomely delicious. I appreciate you and will miss you very much.

Home(?)

2009-06-18T02:57:00.000-07:00

In honour of today, June 18: exactly one month before I return home(?)

From The Art of Coming Home, suggested reading from MCC:

Usual definition of HOME: "the place where you are known and trusted and where you know and trust others; where you are accepted, understood, indulged and forgiven; a place of rituals and routine interactions, of entirely predictable events and people and very few surprises; the place where you belong and feel safe and secure and where you can accordingly trust your instincts, relax and be yourself" (15).

However, this is a very high standard, "a standard, in fact, that any such place cannot possibly meet. As you will see, this very realization, that home is not really home, is at the core of the experience of re-entry" (16).

Oh dear.

Night at the Opera

2009-05-30T00:53:00.000-07:00

I have been suffering a lot recently in Viet Nam. One particularly painful event was a recent night at the Ha Noi Opera House for a performance by the National Symphony Orchestra. The Opera House is a beloved landmark in Ha Noi. And also a relic of French colonialism. But as usual, the Vietnamese people seem to take what comes their way, make it their own if it didn't start out that like that and not get too stirred up about it. Today it is enjoyed by Vietnamese locals, foreign residents and tourists alike. It's located in the "Old Quarter" at the centre of the city, and I always bike past it on my way to the Action for the City office.

The plaza in front, free of all those pesky lanes, signs and rules that usually govern traffic, is always an exciting place to pass through.

Here is Hannah and me in the washroom, preparing for to head into the theatre. We are obviously very classy (taking photos in the public washroom mirror) and very Asian (notice the photo fingers). Or not.

We were also joined by our dear friend Lana, a one-year volunteer from England who I work with at Action for the City. Sadly she is leaving to "ve nuoc" (return to home country) very soon:( One of those unfortunately cut-short friendships peculiar to we globe-trotting, wealthy Westerners I talked about in my last post.

Yes, we had special matching bracelets for the night. They are wood lacquer art, a specialty in northern Viet Nam. I bought one. When Hannah saw it that evening, she decided she would like one too. So we went to the shop near the Opera House where I'd bought it. Then on the way out, decided we'd better get one for Lana too.

Finally, here is the orchestra. I thought they were wonderful, though I'm not much of a musical judge, and it was lovely to hear and see some classical music being created.

Lana and me on one of the Opera House's many balcony where we waved to our subjects (no nasty colonial overtones intended!) and then posed for the media core.

Hannah and I join Bac (Uncle) Ho's orchestra. As in Ho Chi Minh, the founding father of modern Viet Nam. You see him everywhere. Posing as we are with his likeness is probably not very PC... but in lots of his pictures, Bac Ho looks like he's laughing on the inside about something no one else knows (yes, like the Mona Lisa), and I bet he wouldn't mind having two "nguoi tay" (Westerners) join in the music.

It was all together a lovely evening and one of those times, which have been occurring more and more frequently, when I realize ways I really like living here and things I'm going to miss when I don't anymore. I just started looking through the mass of "re-entry" material MCC was graciously provided... and started feeling a little freaked out about how this SALT term is actually going to END. There were points over the past 10 months in which I really thought it never would. And I remember remarking to a friend half way though, You know, if I left right now, I'd don't think I'd miss anything. Well, fortunately (though maybe I did not think so then) I did not leave in January, and now... well, I'm starting to get kind of tearful when I think about going and worry that maybe I didn't enjoy being here enough for most of my term.

Your prayers and positive energies for me as I begin the process of leaving and returning -- for calm, comfort, reconciliation for internal and external conflicts, good goodbyes, realistic expectations for homecoming and working through all the logistics of returning to North American life -- would be much appreciated as I enter the re-entry period.

I'd just like to say a hearth felt thank you to all of you who email, write letters and skype with me regularly or irregularly. Every little bit counts, it really does. The love and support from friends and family at home that has remained steady from beginning to (almost) end of my term really has been and continues to be a most wonderful gift. I hope I can pass it back to you and to others in the future.

work: part 2

2009-05-26T06:25:00.000-07:00

So as promised (a long time ago), this blog will explain my work at Action for the City (www.vidothi.org/en). Yay! Action for the City is a Vietnamese NGO which I usually describe as doing "sustainable urban development" or something of the sort. Its mission is this:

To improve the quality of life for all in Hanoi and other cities by increasing community participation, bringing common voices to policy-makers, and using a variety of creative forms and media as tools for social change.

It works at this mission by focusing in three areas:

(1) Environment: We work to slow down the process of climate change and create a healthy environment for all. (2) Social development: We work to reduce urban poverty, promote equal access to social services and advocate for disadvantaged groups. (3) Creative urban living: We work to bring out and celebrate the creativity of individuals and communities for a sustainable lifestyle.

In practice, these goals take the form of projects like working with local farmers to produce and market organic vegetables (healthier for the farmers, consumer and environment and also increases income); organizing university students to evaluate the food safety at street food shops and spreading the information among their peers (though they're delicious, food poisoning from such places is quite a problem); holding workshops for local offices about "greening your workplace" led by foreign specialists on behaviour change; organizing a Green Transport Day on which people are encouraged to go by foot, bike or bus, as opposed to private motor vehicle; and running a massage clinic that employs visually impaired massage therapists.

My work with ACF for the past five months has been focused on the last two of these projects. For Green Transport Day, I have worked at creating the structure for the event and putting together invitations and educational material for the NGO offices that we are targeting this year. The day originally was scheduled in May, but has now been changed to September 22 in order to coincide with World Carfree Day. So I won't be here to see it happen. As usual, things change a lot and do not turn out the way I had expected. Oh well.

Me at the AFC office

The concept map for Green Transport Day, which I am attempting
to turn into a proposal for a potential partner organization

I also teach English to three recently trained massage therapists at Just Massage (www.justmassage.org.vn), which was opened by AFC in 2007. I meet with the students, Miss Hoa, Mr. Dan and Mr. Thang, and also Miss Dung, an older therapist who speaks more English and helps me teach, once or twice a week for 2.5 hour classes. Here, we practice the English they need to know in order to serve foreign customers (about half their clientele)--things like "please take off your clothes!" and other such helpful phrases--and work on basic vocabulary like introducing oneself, common adjectives and talking about dates, times, etc.

From left: Miss Dung, me, Miss Hoa and Mr. Thang. Mr. Dan was absent for this photo op

They are eager to learn and enjoy encouraging each other and laughing together. "Septovember," "twelveteen" and learning to sing and dance the "Hokey Hokey" provided some recent laughter breaks. Often I quite forget that they can't see, or not very much anyway. Like when we were learning colours, I asked them to name one thing for each colour and then they'd learn a new noun as well as the colour word (e.g., a tomato is red). Later I realized, Oh! Maybe they've never seen the colour of a tomato! Oh dear. But they didn't have much trouble coming up with items for each colour and didn't act offended by the task... so I hope it was ok. Mostly, there is just less pointing and pantomiming than in one of my usual Vietnamese conversation and more touching, like having them feel the proper index-finger-extended-skyward Hokey Pokey hands.

Perhaps because they are visually impaired, because they are massage therapists, because they are Vietnamese or a combination of all the above, they are very touchy in general. Which is great for me really, as I dearly miss my hugging buddies at home and sometime feel chronically under-touched. So I usually get felt up (just by the girls!) at some point during class. There are comments on what I'm wearing--Oh, what a beautiful skirt! Is it from America? Or Ah, today you wear pants like ours! (linen drawstrings)--they can't believe my hair is not permed, and recently we discovered belly buttons, which I explained in English by tapping the buttons on their polo shirts. Class almost always ends up being fun, even when I arrive grumpy about having to interact with people first thing in the morning. I usually leave with a smile.

So perhaps I'm making AFC sound like a really great organization... and (in my humble opinion) it really is. I am continually amazed by the inspired, committed, brilliant half-dozen young Vietnamese women who make up the regular staff. There are also local and foreign volunteers like myself who pass in and out regularly.

Staff pic from this fall (before I started). The guy... I don't really know who he is.
Sometimes I see him around, but his work remains a mystery.

From my perspective anyway, this group accomplishes that oft talked about but uncommonly achieved goal of integrating knowledge gained elsewhere into a local context in a healthy way. Most of the staff have studied abroad in Western countries and somehow have avoided acquiring that unfortunate disdain for their own culture, which is often the result of such education. And now have returned to their home community because they love it and desire to make it a more wonderful place to live.

Observing them and noticing how naturally their actions seem to flow from this place of love and understanding is inspiring. And makes me realize that, at least for a long long time, that will never be me in Viet Nam. Or in most other places around the world either.

I like my work, at MCC and AFC, and feel like it's generally helpful, but I always feel I am a guest, just passing through. Which is guess is the nature of a SALT term, as it's only one year. But with almost all the foreigners I know here, there is always this feeling when you're forming a relationship that, sooner or later, one of you is going to leave, and it will probably be sooner. Even for people who have lived in the region for many years, there's always this time in the future when you'll go back "home," a stash of your possessions stored at your "permanent address" or in your parents' basement, which you'll be ruined with when you return to your "real life."

There's something that feels unsustainable about such a lifestyle. But also... I'm learning so much. I feel I'm becoming a better person for my experience here. I begin to understand how people don't want to stop once they get started on traveling and living abroad. But do I catch a whiff of addiction? Always looking for your next hit of challenge, the kind that rocks the foundations of your beliefs. There's something exhilarating about it, like being caught exposed in a thunderstorm. Am I living vicariously off the thrill off others' "exotic" lifestyle? But is it also selfish to just "take" the experience and learning the I gleaned here back to my home community for its own enrichment?

These questions of HOME and ROOTEDNESS and WOULD I EVER WANT TO DO THIS AGAIN? tug at my mind as I take part in this ultra-mobile globalized lifestyle, available only to the small and highly privileged percent of the world's population I belong to.

So I guess this turned into a post about more than just my work. But my favourite times in life are when all parts of my life seem interconnected, each enhancing all the others. During the good moments anyway, I do feel I am living that way here.

Blarggg!

2009-05-18T23:50:00.000-07:00

Just a note to say, yes, I'm just alive, though my recent life has obviously not included blogging. This makes me want to say Blarggg! (see, I've even forgotten how to spell "blog") because it's been on my TO DO list for quite some time now. Someday soon, really!

In general I've been doing quite well, so please don't mistake my lack of communication for a personal crisis or anything. Hope this finds all my loyal readers (if you're still checking this site at all) well and happy and enjoying springtime wherever you may be. Hopefully soon you can add "reading a blog entry from Rosabeth!" to your list of blessings.

WORK: part 1

2009-04-12T03:56:00.000-07:00

So as you may or may not have noticed, I have avoided talking about my actual JOB here in Viet Nam so far on this blog. This is mostly because, until maybe two months ago, I had little confidence that if I wrote something, it would be accurate for very long; i.e., my job has changed a lot.

When I left home, I thought I would be doing two part-time jobs: (1) English editing at a government publishing house and (2) English editing at the National Committee for the Advancement of Women (NCFAW), a government agency. Since then, my job description has changed 100%.

Within the first week, I was asked if I'd be ok with switching from the publishing house to assisting Max Ediger, a long-term MCCer. This was fine with me, and it's worked out quite well. I worked pretty irregularly at NCFAW until the end of the year. They were undergoing some big administrative changes, and it was basically just a bad time to have a volunteer. No one's fault really, but still no fun for me. So in January, I started working at Action for the City, a local NGO that does sustainable urban development work. I've been really impressed with and inspired by the organization... and also feel it's quite hard to work in community organizing when you're a foreigner to the community.

So my week looks like this: 2 days at MCC, 2.5 days at Action for the City and 1/2 day of language study. This post will be devoted to work at MCC, with a "part 2" following, which will explain my work at Action for the City. So...

It's about a 15 minute bike ride from my house to the MCC office. After making my way along half a mile of crowded market street, I am always reminded where to turn:

After letting myself in the locked gate, parking my bike and changing from street shoes to the requisit rubber sandals, I am greeted by Chu Nhung (left, office handyman) and Chi Oanh (office administrator).

On the way to my work space on the third floor, I stop to get a drink and say good morning to Co Tu, the best cook in Viet Nam who MCC has the good fortune of employing.

My next stop is Max's office, where we set the direction for my day's work and generally "cut the breeze" as you say in Vietnamese--something like chatting about nothing of import.

And then it's on to the office I share with the two Vietnamese project officers. In the picture below is Co Vinh (left) and Co Bay. Co Vinh actually just retired (a sad event for everyone at the office), so now it's just Co Bay and Co Van Anh (not pictured). I wanted to get a picture will all three of them, but apparently it's very bad luck to take a picture with three people, as that's the number of insense sticks you put on a dead anscestor's alter. So here's just the two... looks pretty luck to me, but you never can tell for sure.

And here's me hard at work! Or at least enjoying my tea.

So what do I do all day "at the office"? What a convenient phrase, eh, which usually requires no explanation. Well, my work for the year has mostly stemmed from the Center for Justpeace in Asia workshop I attend with Max in Nepal in October (see Nov 11 post). The theme of the workshop was "Our Stories/Our Challenges," and it brought together NGO and CBO (community-based organization) workers from all over SE Asia to share their stories and challenges, building solidarity and collaboration.

Since then, I have been working on articulating the common challenges that came up--for example, internally displaced people due to war, international NGOs arriving to "help" but with thier own agenda, reintegrating ex-combatants post-war, dealing with the violence of the economic developement that often follows the end of a war, and many more--and then gathering together the stories that were shared by workshop participants, as well as stories from affiliated friends, which illustrate those common challenges. The goal is to have a publishable book by the time I leave.

Right now, that goal seems pretty doable if I keep working steadily. We have all the stories collected and now are working on editing, writing background material, the introduction and organizing it all. Max if often traveling, which makes it kind of hard to work for him, but at least when he's around, I feel quite energized and interested in the work. In any case, I've been exposed to many very intereting stories and learned a lot about the past and present conflicts of SE Asia. I think the content of the book is pretty powerful, I just hope other people will read it!

And when I start to feel a little crazy after looking at a computer screen for too long, there's always lunch in the middle of the day! Hooray for lunch! Co Tu has been working all morning and she never disapoints. Below is a picture from Ana's (wife of CR) birthday lunch, so it's a bigger crowd than usual, but you get the idea.

So there you have it: a day in the life of Rosabeth at the MCC Viet Nam office! Check back soon (hopefully) for a report on Action for the City!

Where does my 10,000 Villages Christmas ornament come from?

2009-03-22T02:30:00.000-07:00

Well, my friend, I'll tell you! It comes from a village called Bat Trang in northern Viet Nam, about a 30 minute drive from where I live in Ha Noi. The name of the village literally means "pottery guild." I visited there during my first week in Viet Nam (see blog entry from August 23) and returned for the second time just yesterday with Hannah (fellow SALTer), Co Bay (MCC project manager) and Gordon (visiting MCC program evaluator). It was fun to go again and understand so much more of what I heard and saw than the first time. And once again, I was so tickled and mind-blown to see the familiar 10,000 Villages products at their source!

I'm not sure why I find this so exciting... maybe something to do with the material disorientation and disconnection that comes along with a globalized economy: having no part in the production of your things, never knowing quite who it was that made them, where they come from or how they come into being. At this point, this disconnect is so totally normalized in the "developed world" that we don't give it a second thought. But what about the trill in the particular beauty of a bunch of flowers you planted from a seed, or the touch of the farmer's hand as she hands you a bunch of radishes she nurtured in a spot of earth you can point to, or the pleasure of regarding a little jewelry box with your name carved into it that your grandpa made? It seems to me that with each point of personal connection we have to a commodity, with every string that ties it into the core of our hearts, so its value increases. The harder it is to discard it to the back of a closet or to the landfill. And when we value and enjoy our things for our relationship to them, the less it seems like we need more. Like when you have several intimate personal relationships, it doesn't make you want to go out and make a bunch of new superficial ones.

Well, I wasn't really planning on that meandering reflection, I just wanted to show you these pictures! But there you have it. And now for the pictures...

Like on our first visit, we got a tour of Mr. Kinh's workshop. 60% of his production goes to a Vietnamese fair trade agency called Craft Link, and 10% of that goes to 10,000 Villages. He told us that Craft Link is the most transparent and fair buyer he works with, and later he announced that "MCC understands Vietnam the most!" I'm supposing this means out of all the foreign organizations he has worked with.
The craftspeople (mostly young women) are either family members (part of his family that has made ceramics here for the past 500 years) or local farmers who do ceramics part-time. They mostly sit in clumps, working together on one project, in this case, painting the design on round Christmas ornaments to go to 10,000 Villages.

The Christmas balls are sorted into baskets - painted and unpainted - like different varieties of eggs at the market.

Each brush stroke is unbelievably quick and precise.

All was going smoothly and efficiently until those pesky foreigners arrived and asked to take pictures!

The finished product, hanging shiny and gorgeous in the display room upstairs. I bet it would look great on your Christmas tree too!

After we finished at the workshop, Mr. Kinh (above) took us on a tour of the oldest part of the village, including a stop at his mother's house for tea. It's ALWAYS teatime! On the floor of what used to be the family workshop and is now her living room, sits a jug, like one you'd find at any 10,000 Villages, in it's natural habitat! Mr. Kinh is chuckling as Hannah makes this comment to him while I take the picture.

I'M FINALLY 21!!!

2009-03-12T07:27:00.000-07:00

...And in here, where there no such thing as a "legal drinking age," it means nothing. Oh well, I already turned 19 in Ontario. And who needs to get intoxicated to have a crazy, out of the ordinary and exciting day in Viet Nam? Not me. It happens every day!

So celebrating my day of birth (March 2) farther away from where it happened than ever before was extra special, and what made it extra extra special is that my mom and Aunt Kate were here as part of the festivities! What a wonderful gift. Here is a photo tour of the big day...

When I walked downstairs in the morning, the party was waiting for me! Actually, my host-family had already left for work and school, so Mama, Kate and I had a nice private kick-off to the day.

We had lunch at the MCC office, complete with delicious food (that's nothing new there), fancy flowers, a new birthday shirt (being modeled), singing and cake. Above is pictured almost all the MCC Viet Nam staff, minus two people.

Then off to Just Massage, a massage clinic that employs visually imparted young people where I teach English to new therapists twice a week. But this time I was not working! Here's me with my friend Dung, one of the older therapist who helps me with teaching and who had just given me a fabulous massage!

Kate and Anne chilling at after-massage coffee break. Vietnamese coffee is basically a good choice after of before anything... expect maybe not before sleeping!

Upon returning home... "Are you ready to be SUPRISE?" I prepared myself and...

...was not disapointed! My little sister Bong (complete with "hair just like mine") was lying in wait, along with ballons and a host of stuffed animal friends there to "enjoy the party."

The excitement continued with a big dinner at a restaurant down the street attended by my real family, my host-family, a bunch of their friends and a bunch of my friends.

After that, the real and host families and I went to the Indian neighbours' house for a tea party... but I forgot to take pictures. Oh well.

The final, and possibly best, part of the day was opening the big stack of cards from folks at home, which my mom brought along. Seriously, along with the visitors in person, I could not have asked for a better birthday present this year. My never ending gratitude to those of you who contibuted the kind words of encouragement and wisdom (and the chocolate, not pictured). As the clock neared midnight, my last birthday act was to tape all the cards on the wall above the head of my bed, where they continue to shine their blessings on me every night.
(In case you were wondering, the poster was there before [I love it too] and the handson lad keeping watch over my bed is my host-brother, who is presently studying in Australia.)

My life is a photo montage

2009-02-24T07:20:00.001-08:00

Hello blog friends! Again, I apologize for the long lapse in posting. It’s actually been kind of a rough time around here recently. A host-family change, some relational upheaval and the mid-service term blues all conspired to give me a pretty traumatic past month. I don’t really feel like spelling it all out on the good old world wide web, so if you’re curious, you can either (a) ask a close friend or family member of mine when you run into them at the supermarket or (b) email me (rosabethbk@gmail.com) and I’ll probably be happy to hear from you give you an update.

In my new host-home, I have my own room. Previously I shared with a 23-year old host-sister. I feel kind of crappy about my Western space-hogging sensibilities, but there they are none the less. I really like having some space to call my own. So recently I’ve been enjoying such luxuries as putting my posters and photos up on the wall, joyfully lingering over the arrangement of my possessions, swinging my window opening in the morning (my old room didn’t have one), being naked when I want to be, reading my book undisturbed, lighting a candle, doing yoga, and listening to the music of my choice. In a time when I’m in need of some extra self-care, these small joys of self-possession are indeed a blessing.

During a recent yoga practice, I was listening to music on my laptop, and after the allotted 5 minutes of inactivity, the screensaver kicked in and began cycling at random through my photos. Every time my eyes came forward, I would catch a glimpse of a moment in my life that happened to get captured in the click of a camera.

Eventually, I stopped the yoga all together and went to squat (Asian style) in front of the shifting screen. As each picture came up, it seemed to trigger a bursting sunbeam in my head, illuminating some forgotten grassy hollow of my brain. And as each memory presented itself and I stumbled forward to meet it, its smell, the touch of it on my cheek, its feel in the pit of my stomach, and its fullness in my mouth broke open before me anew. Like one of those hinged plastic Easter eggs filled with the chocolate of my rich and joyful life so far.

Eventually, the computer completed its screen-saving mission, switched to the blank, black colour of sleep, and I returned to yoga. But those 10 transcendent minutes of photo montage have stayed with me and I keep returning to them in my mind and to the memories they recall.

I arrived in Viet Nam with the determined intention to be PRESENT in the PRESENT!, the idea being that the past, the future and all beings outside my immediate experience should not distract me from fully sensing each moment as it comes. Sounds good, right? However, in practice, the rewards of pursuing the present have proved frustratingly illusive to me.

I don’t really know what’s gone wrong with my intention, but seems it’s time for me to try something new. After beating the present to death and succeeding in the production of a muddy pulp, what a breath of fresh air to recall times when I wasn’t even trying, yet the sun made my hair glow, familiar arms fitted themselves comfortably around my waist and thankfulness poured from my heart and out my eyes.

Not so long ago, I’d say I had pretty much come to terms with being unhappy in Viet Nam... I’m here, this is a good experience, it’s worthwhile, but it is not and will not make me happy. At this moment in time, mostly thanks to the rousing effect of a couple recent crises, I’ve decided that, in fact, I’m not quite ready to settle for suffering.

With new inspiration and a new lack of clear intention, I’m feeling ok with the good sensations that come along with remembering the past. It feels good... in the present.

As I gazed into the pixilated past and lounged in memories of North American sunshine (SE Asian is more into hazy brightness), a more recent photo from Viet Nam came up... and somehow that one made me smile too. And I thought about how, in future when I’m somewhere else, I’ll see that picture and warmly recall the moment it features. So now I’m relishing thoughts of the future, and it feels good too… in the present.

It seems to me that enjoying the present has something to do with not getting stuck in it—just as you should not get stuck in pondering the past or the future—because the present was also the future and will also be the past... and the linear spectrum of past, present and future… it melts together into a sphere of being.

Below are some of those photos that flashed by. I know this blog is supposed to be about Viet Nam, but when the past, present and future are all running together, I guess it's all relevant...

In the world, there are open spaces for breathing. I'm especially partial to the ones in my hometown.

I love people who smile when you kiss them, especially Maria.

Fresh cookies and warm light are delicious.

Me Lien (old host-mom), me and the pomelo peal enjoy each others' company.

Snow falls from the sky and Sarah and Miriam are my friends.

The Millrace + Bethy + bicycles + a Goshen summer + yoga + blue sky = my bliss.

The week before leaving for Viet Nam, the love surrounding and pushing me off was basically overwhelming...
"I can't stand feeling so full of happiness anymore, I just need to leave!"

I remember am capable of doing crazy things... like shaving all my hair off! It's fun. And then it grows back.

Christmas and such

2009-01-09T21:57:00.000-08:00

Dearest blog readers,

In fact I have not dropped off the face of the planet! My sincerest apologies for my neglect of you over the last month and a half. So much to report on! Here's some of it...

My dad and I recently spent a lovely week and a half together over Christmas! He arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (the national capital in southern VN) where he met up with Max Ediger (MCC co-worker of mine and old Bethel College friend of his), and the two of them spent about a week working their way north, visiting American (Vietnam) War-related sites all the way. They were both involved in the anti-war movement back in the day, so I think it was a fascinating experience to visit some of those places they did not go. Well, actually Max as in VN during part of the war with MCC... in any case, still interesting. Hannah and I met up with them in Hue, a small-ish city in central Viet Nam. Here we spent a day in the old De-Milliarized Zone, the DMZ, which divided North and South Viet Nam during the French and American occupations. We visited a network of tunnels used during the war by villagers in hiding and resistance fighters, as those who opposed the Americans are known here. Right: Hannah and me feeling a little clostraphobic, closely followed by Indiana Jones, a.k.a, my father Dennis. Below: Papa and me after exiting the tunnels (wheew!) near the shore of the South China Sea.

Also in the DMZ, we visited the cite of an American air base, compete with rusting war relics and a small museum. Below left: an old killing machine now surrounded my wild flowers. Below right: a photo in the museum titled "Vinh Linh female militias' smile." Though it seems the Americans have never really realized it, we were largely defeated by women in Vietnam. For example, the American soldiers thought that women who wore black clothing were sympathetic to the Viet Cong, while women who wore white supported the American forces. In fact, many female resistance fighters would just change their clothes depending on the identity the wanted to take on. Who would have thought women in Vietnam could possibly be so clever?? Anyway, I particularly liked this picture because I know women here who smile just like that, and I can just imagine the laugh that follows the smile and the speeding words and intonations of a funny story being told around the lunch table. And it seems to me, when you can not just look at the pictures and read the reports about war, but know in your mind's eye how the people depicted in sound and move, war simply becomes an absurd impossibility.

We also took a family-operated boat tour down the Perfume River and visited several gorgeous old pagodas and temples. Left: Tam, the captain of the boat, Max, Hannah and Dennis. Below: a view of the tomb of King Minh Mach, though it's much bigger than what this picture shows, lots more of gardens, arch ways, walkways and pagoda-ish buildings.

All together, it was really great to have a change of scenery for couples days and visit some intriguing new parts of Viet Nam and get to share the experience with my dad, as well as Hannah and Max.

CHRISTMAS! We all returned to Ha Noi on Christmas Eve morning. My dad, Hannah and I spent the next couple of days relaxing at Derek and Ana’s house (though they were in Cambodia with Ana’s family at the time). We went to a the joint Christmas Eve service of our international church (Hanoi International Church) and the other international church in town (Hanoi International Fellowship... creative names, I know). Then we returned to Derek and Ana's to exchange gifts and generally enjoy a cozy Christmas time with hot cocoa and the Messiah playing in the background. Right: our little little Christmas tree. Left: look what I got for Christmas - a Hannah! Isn't she cute?

For the next couple of days, I took my dad around Ha Noi, visited the MCC office, we met my extended host-family for dinner and joined in the excitement of Viet Nam winning the ASEAN soccer cup! Following the conclusion of the game, he, Hannah and I walked the 30 minute walk between my house and Derek and Ana's and joined the hordes of people racing their motor bikes down the street, waving flags, beating drums and yelling "Viet Nam Vo Dich!" - Viet Nam is the Champion! Quite thrilling. And everyone thought it was very funny to see these three white people joining in the celebration. White people are so just so silly!

My dad left on December 29 after a very full visit to Viet Nam. I want to thank him for taking the time and money to come visit me here. And it's such a privilege for all involved that he was able to do these things. Since then, I've been getting on alright... sometimes more homesick, sometimes less, always learning. Please keep checking here to hear more coming in the future, hopfully with more regularity than recently! Chuc mung nam moi (happy new year) to you all!

Thanksgiving

2008-12-02T06:46:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday the foreign Ha Noi MCCers celebrated Thanksgiving Day with a traditional-ish meal (chicken because turkey is quite expensive, tropical fruit salad instead of cranberry sauce and green bean ice cream with the pumpkin pie) and the first carol singing of the season. It was fun to be together and practice some familiar rituals, even far from home.

The group included Hannah and me (the SALT couple); Derek, Ana, Lucas and Chase (CR family); Thadyus, Tra and Quinn (Derek's brother and family who also live in HN); Hiro and Sawako (MCCers from Japan); and Max (SE Asia MCCer extraordinaire). See us in Thanksgiving action below...

Sawako and Lucas prepare the green beans

Hannah and I are domestic goddesses

An di! (Eat up!)

Hannah (with Lucas's help) led us in some post-dinner Christmas song singing

More than just a host-family in VN!

2008-11-17T05:17:00.000-08:00

So apparently I have some real family here too! (Though I should say my wonderful host-family is feeling more and more family-like all the time.) I actually knew this before coming but was just recently introduced to these relatives who live in Ha Noi.

The relation goes something like this: my mother's brother, Steve, married Therese, who is a Vietnamese woman born in Ha Noi. They met in France and continue to live there today. Therese's brother, Khang, also born in Ha Noi, now lives in Luxembourg and has a job that involves traveling to Viet Nam quite regularly. So last Friday Khang invited me to have dinner with him and his (and Therese's) cousin, Khoi, and his family. We had a lovely time and I hope to be in touch with them more in the future!

Khang also showed be around the neighbourhood where his family once owned most of the property. There home is long gone (following thier departure from Ha Noi around 1954), but we walked through an alley-way under part a new house that is now there, and he pointed out some still visible tiles where the floor of their kitchen once was! Wild.

Special thanks to Steve and Therese for making this new connection happen for me!

From left: Ly (Khoi's niece), Van Anh (olderst daugter), Khang, Khoi, me, Van (Khoi's wife)

Minh Chau (3rd daughter) and her father switch places behind the camera

JustPeace in Nepal

2008-11-11T04:59:00.000-08:00

Between October 23 and 31, I traveled from Ha Noi to Katmandu, Nepal and back in order to attend a workshop put on by the Centre for JustPeace in Asia (http://www.daga.org/justpeace/index.html), a regional civil society organization. The group as basically a loose coalition of NGOs based in about 10 Southeast Asian countries. Representatives of these NGOs gather semi-regularly to share strategy, show solidarity and generally network. The theme of the 2008 workshop was “Our Stories, Our Challenges” and it focused on finding common ground through personal stories, moving from there to identify common challenges, which in turn led to discussion of future collaboration for the common goal of a truly just peace in SE Asia.

Half of my SALT assignment is working as an administrative assistant to Max Ediger, a long-term MCCer who has lived in SE Asia for the past 30 years. (And who incidentally is an old Bethel friend of my dad’s. It’s a small Mennonite world, as usual.) He was one of the main organizers behind the workshop, and so I got to tag along as the official note-taker and future report-writer (which I am now in the midst of) and also had the opportunity to take part in group work and discussion. SALT continues to be full of wonders!

Along with enjoying the beauty of the Katmandu valley as featured below:

The view from the lovey mountainside guesthouse where we stayed and held meetings

Lots of gorgeous Buddhist and Hindu temples everywhere

Me, Max and Co Bay (one of the national MCC staff) at the top of a very foggy mountain

…The workshop participants also spent a lot of time listening, presenting, discussing and, in the case of the photo below, singing in this conference room:

For me, the workshop was all together terribly interesting, rich and challenging. It was such a new and fascinating experience to be interacting with “primary sources” concerning peace and justice work. Not a professor or North American service worker coming home to share about their experience, but people who have actually experienced torture and been refugees and child soldiers, and yet they go on living and have a personal investment in working for peace for their people. The whole week was a quite a jumble of intense learning, which I could not lay out nicely for you even if I tried. So I will offer you some select bits of journaling…

29 October
…Bobby from Mindanao, Philippines talked about this square red, green and yellow scarf that his ethnic group has traditionally used for a variety purposes. It is usually worn around the head and then can be removed to shelter it owner from rain or sun, to use as a rug on which to offer Muslim daily prayers or to bind the wound of a comrade. Bobby was explaining different ways it can be wrapped around the head, but as he was attempting to demonstrate, he had to admit that he did not remember how to do any of the wraps besides the basic one because this tradition has been all but been replaced by the wearing of cowboy-style hats. Point about the loss of traditional cultures well made. So this was making me think about how frustrating it is that even those who desire to preserve “minority” wisdom are often so estranged from it that they cannot follow its teaching even though they want to. It is lost.
And I was thinking about this in context of the conference – how the “workshop style” is based on so many “majority” assumptions: Western intellectual style (critical, linier, systematic thinking), the masculine norm (the assumption that participants are free to leave home and family in order to attend), wealth (money necessary for international travel), citizenship status necessary for international travel (which many indigenous groups do not have), proficiency in English (the common language here, though it is no Asian person’s native language)... and I was thinking about how rotten it is that I can not even think of other ways to go about this kind of event. I was thinking about it especially in the context of the marginalization of the feminine in such a form but how the “alternative” wisdom is just not there, or at least not accessible to me. And so, like Bobby and his scarf, even though I want to use my tradition, it is lost to me. How can we ever recover these things once they slip unpassed though a couple of generations??…

30 October
…My conversation with Lek (see Lek and me in photo) and Saw Mort and the week altogether has been making has been making me think about how important it is not the get stuck in theory… which I get the
feeling (at least for me) might be a tempting thing to do. Like it seems easier to critique and lament the loss of “other” cultures as the West moves in with other Western folks, as opposed to actually talking with the “others” and having to realize the complexity of the issues that comes when one is working with multiple perspectives… especially when you are the majority person attempting to analyze the situation of the minority.
I feel like it’s easy to self-aggrandize, for example, believing that Western culture has the power to destroy Eastern culture. So even as I am being saddened and outraged by this situation of domination, I am also able to feel comfort in the power of my own culture. However, this self-important delusion is destroyed when I interact with people like Saw Mort and Lek who say actually, we like some parts of your culture and want to takes these parts on and work for our own goals; in claiming these, they reject the notion that Western culture is being imposed upon them. Whoo. So even as I’m dis-ing theory, there’s a load of it! Good to have both theory and practice, I suppose…

Plenty of thoughts bouncing around and contradicting each other nicely. I guess that’s what happens when you’re learning a million new things everyday! Seriously, I wish I could just take a break sometimes. So it goes. I feel so privileged to have had the opportunity to attend this workshop, and I hope the new ideas and feelings it stirred up with continue to stew and germinate... who know what will come out in the end… whenever that is!

Things I live for in Viet Nam

2008-10-17T02:51:00.000-07:00

1) Eating a breakfast of either sticky rice with dried garlic and dried shredded pork or fresh French bread with a fried egg and sliced cucumbers slipped in the center, both of which Me Lien buys from venders on our street in the morning

2) Squeezing by motor bikes and cars at a stop light on my trusty blue bicycle, which constantly surprises me with its amazing balancing and maneuvering abilities

3) Checking my email in the morning and anticipating messages from home, where it is then bed time, so everyone has just sent their evening emails

4) Having moments of clarity where I (think I) understand clearly what my Vietnamese co-worker wants to communicate and I can fit it into professional sounding English

5) Talking in Vietnamese at lunch time and realizing that I can say more than last week

6) NAP TIME! Always a highlight. Depending on the day, sometimes the highlight.

7) Upon waking, savoring a cup of strong Vietnamese coffee with sweetened condensed milk or of green tea with the leaves floating free in the water

8) Laughing with Hannah, Ana and Co Giang (our Vietnamese teacher) in language class as we struggle to talk in Vietnamese about our lives and the sense of achievement when we’re understood and then again the hilarity of the verbal simplicity we’re forced into for lack of bigger, better words

9) Arriving home from work/school, getting a glass of water, some fruit or a cookie or some home-made yoghurt from the fridge and sitting down at the table with Me Lien to ask about her day and try to tell her about mine

10) Going upstairs to change clothes and then laying on my bed in front of the fan, closing my eyes and taking some deep breaths to decompress from the day and particularly the bike ride home in heavy traffic

11) Sitting at the kitchen table pealing and chopping cucumbers (my latest cooking specialty, though I do also still enjoy the tofu frying) while Me Lien moves about the kitchen performing various other culinary acrobatics

12) Saying “Chao Phuong!” when she (my sister) arrives home from university class around 6pm and always being surprised by her varying daily moods – sometimes singing a song about “Rosie Rosie Rosie!” and doing a little dance of greeting, sometimes lamenting her long and tiring day and bickering with her mother. In any case, I’m always happy to see her!

13) Following dinner, calling up the stairs, “Phuong oi! Rua bat!” (Dear Phuong! Wash dishes!) to the great amusement of my parents. (Phuong usually finishes eating quickly and goes to prepare to go out with her boyfriend for the evening.) And until she comes down to help, pretending to be deathly fatigued as I attempt to wash the dishes without her help. Also very funny to Me Lien and Ba Minh.

14) In the evening, sometimes family members will come over to sit around the kitchen table and talk and laugh and eat fruit. If I’m home, I usually join them for a bit, which always ends of being an entertaining experience for all involved, as I attempt to answer questions about Vietnamese food I think is “ngon lam” (very delicious), my “ban trai My” (American boyfriend), what dress I will wear to the upcoming wedding (it’s looking like it will be the “vay den” – black dress) and everything in between.

15) Doing yoga every night before bed and looking at the moon from our open flat roof

16) Laying down in the quiet, air-conditioned (shh, don’t tell the suffering service worker police!) bedroom I share with Phuong and closing my eyes on the day

The Fam*

2008-10-02T05:45:00.000-07:00

Almost one month ago, I moved in with my Vietnamese host-family. Soon after, I started asking myself, how on earth did I get so lucky?? I think I can probably thank MCC’s extensive selection process for that, but I still just end up feeling ridiculously fortunate about getting to live with this ridiculously fabulous family!

My family includes my mom, Lien who I call Me (mother in Vietnamese), my dad, Minh who I call Ba (father), my 22-year-old sister, Phuong, and my 14-year-old brother, Son. Additionally, almost all of Me and Ba’s siblings and their families live on the same street we do, so there is always extended family in and out of the house. All together, it’s a really close family, and I feel so privileged to be invited into that in a small way.

The family owns a small electronic appliance store, which takes up most of the first floor of the house. The set up is something like this: you walk in to the shop from the street, then if you continue back into the house, you enter the kitchen. So we’ll be sitting around the kitchen table eating a meal and someone will give a call from the shop, so Ba or Me will get up and go help them. Between the shop and the kitchen is a spiral stair case that core-samples its all the way up to the fifth floor.

So for quick virtual walking tour of the house: if you start the trek upstairs, you will first reach the second floor, which includes computer room (with internet), bathroom and living room… continuing to the third floor, you will find Phuong's and my room, my parents’ and Son’s room and another bathroom… then on the fourth floor is the family alter room and a storage room, plus a washing machine on the landing… and finally (all out of breath by now) the fifth floor is mostly open flat roof (with a tin roof over that), dived by an indoor landing – clothes lines for laundry on one side and a big open space on the other, which happens to be perfect for yoga. So there’s the house. Certainly different than what I’m used to but quite comfortable overall… not that me being comfortable is always the most important thing in this experience… but I’m not complaining too much.

To illustrate the feel of family life, I will try to narrate a typical evening around the house. I arrive home around 5pm, hot and frazzled after a 30 minute bike ride from work in rush hour traffic. Ba waves and says, “Chao, Rosie!” as he comes out to lock up my bike and waves me inside. Me comes to meet me as I walk into the house, asks me if I’m hot and tired, which I confirm, and maybe says some other things I do not fully understand but try to respond to in a reasonable way. Below is be in my full biking gear. And yes, I am also considering robbing a bank if MCC does not increase my PDA pretty soon!

I go upstairs to change clothes and say hi to Son as I pass by the computer room where he is probably playing World of War Craft. I then return downstairs to help Me and usually Phoung cook dinner. The process always involves preparing several dishes, made up of vegetables and meat sometimes mixed together and sometimes not. Plus rice, or course. In any case, almost always delicious. In the kitchen, I specialize in pointing at food and saying its name repeatedly, as well as chopping vegetables and frying tofu. Following one incident in which there was some lively music playing on the TV and I did a little dance while standing over the tofu, there is now always some “dau phu (doe foo) danzing!” involved when tofu is on the menu.

We usually sit down to eat around 6:30. Phuong graciously translates some parts of the conversation so that her parents and I can communicate in slightly more complex ways than what my Vietnamese skills usually permit. At other times, I just enjoy my food silently and revel in the occasional word or phrase I catch as it flies by. I really feel like an infant a lot of the time – not comprehending much but (hopefully) absorbing all the time. And sometimes, I appreciate not being expected to participate in conversation and tune out all together. The meal is always followed by fresh fruit, which is almost always pealed and eaten in interesting ways that incline its consumers to remain seated and eat slowly and savor the delicate flavor and the good company of other fruit-eaters around the table. Below is me stylishly sporting the peal of a "qua buoi" (pomelo in English - similar to a grapefruit) much to Me Lien's amusment.

Phuong and/or I wash the dishes… which also happens to include dancing on my part, this time “Rua bat (zu-ah bot) danzing!” (dish-washing dancing). The young people then tend to filter off, Phuong to go out with her boyfriend, Son to study or play on the computer or go school (I have not been able to figure the public school schedule yet… it seems to be happening all the time!), me to read or do homework or email. Sometimes around 9:00, Me, Son and I, plus Co (aunt) Tuyet and cousins Hai (16) and Be (13) will go for an evening walk, which is always enjoyable. See them below. I conclude most days with yoga on the roof, which I feel really thankful for. Me will sometimes come up to join in for a bit and to make sure I’m not falling off the balcony.

So there you have it, yet another long and rambling blog post! I hope this answers many of the questions that I have (understandably) been receiving. Thanks you to everyone who has been emailing and (even better!) writing me letters. I really appreciate it. Xin chao (good bye and hello) for now!

*Thank you to my dear friend Rachel Yoder for her creative abbreviating effect on my vocabulary, e.g., the “fam,” of course, stands for the nuclear family unit. I think of you every time I say it.

Coming very soon... really!

2008-09-28T19:18:00.000-07:00

Hello friends! So I have seriously been working on this latest blog post for a week now... but due to technical, logistical and free time difficulties, it is yet to be published... and is still not being published. And I realize that no one is expecting me to keep the updates coming at a particular pace, but lots of interesting things have been happening, and I've been getting lots of interested emails, and I just wanted to get it out there that I am doing very well, enjoying family and work and other things for the most part, and I want to tell you all about it... not that that's really possible. BUT there really is more coming soon!!

Vietnamese+biking+glimmerings=???

2008-09-04T00:49:00.000-07:00

Today I write from the Mucus Café. That's right, like snot in your nose. Contrary to its name, it is in fact a lovely spot that's just down the ally from Kim Ma House, the MCC house. Today is Hannah and my last day staying there with Derek, Ana, Lucas and Chase before moving in with our host families, and I've been meaning to stop in since we first walked past it almost three weeks ago, and I have not been working all week because of lack of tasks for me to do there plus two days of holiday... that all goes to say that I am here and happily updating all of you on my life in Hanoi over the past two weeks!

So on Monday, August 25, Hannah, Ana and I started Vietnamese classes at Hanoi University. So far we have learned lots of useful things like hello, what is your name, where are you from, what is your job, and just this morning, "I need to go to the bathroom"...and then upon my return, "There is no toilet paper in the bathroom." Deep learning. And plenty of laughing too. It's so interesting to notice how culture is built into a language and a language built into a culture. For example, when saying "hello," the speaker must name herself with an age-relative pronoun, say hi, then name the listener with the corresponding age-relative pronoun. So when I say hello to Ana, I say "Em (naming me as a person who is talking to someone older than me but not as old as my parents) chàu (hi) chi (naming Ana as a woman of that age). You use these different pronouns to indicate age whenever you are talking to or about anyone. Age and the hierarchy is establishes is very important in Vietnamese culture and you're reminded of it every time you open you mouth. Language is such a powerful tool... and it makes me think about ways Anglo culture is built into my mother tongue... hmm. Below is a photo of the three students with our teacher, Giang (pronounced "Zaung" English style) this morning after class.

September 2 is Vietnam's Independence Day, as in when it declared independence in 1945 from colonial France, as well as from the Japanese occupation in effect at the time. This fight for independence and the following American War ("Vietnam War" is you speak American) are just the last two efforts in a long series of fights for independence since Vietnamese civilization first emerged around 2000 BCE. According to Lowell (the outgoing MCC country rep), if you condense Vietnam's history down into 100 years, it has only been an independent nation for 6 of those (I'm pretty sure I'm remembering those numbers correctly... if not, don't blame Lowell.) To me, this kind of puts the US's whole dramatic Vietnam War complex down to size... and really places a lot of historical drama in a much broader context than I'm used to thinking in. When your country is merely 2.25 centuries old, every decade counts. When you've got 40 centuries behind you... not so much. And it also makes all the buzz about "development" and the influx of Western culture around here right now seem maybe not so significant. Vietnam has absorbed foreign influences before and as of today, has still managed to maintain its own distinct culture.

Hannah and I celebrated the big day with a maiden (pardon the sexist, gendered language) bicycle adventure. See the photo in the previous post to remind yourself what Hanoi traffic looks like... then imagine two little white girls entering the fray, sporting shiny bulbous helmets and ill-fitting bikes. And check out the photos below to see me rearin' to go... and then us upon arriving back home, safe but frazzled. Actually the straight forward biking (turning is still a little iffy) was quite comfortable and a fascinating experience. As a biker in North America, even though I have bike lanes and paths and am protected by traffic laws, I am always "in the way," cars are always angry at me for being on "their" road. Here, if bike lanes are present, they are fair game for anyone and everyone, there is no such thing as a smooth path or sidewalk and traffic laws are generally optional; however, because everyone is always in everyone's way, no one bothers getting angry about anything on the road! EVERYONE has a right to be a part of traffic. Quite empowering really.

I've spent most of the past two weeks feeling pretty optimistic about life here... right on track with the culture shock curve, I suppose. Great. I continue to be thankful for reminders to live fully in each moment... but am increasingly finding it helpful to embrace even those moments when I'm not intensely experiencing my environment and personal state (which is most of the time)... and living in those moments as well... because they're still happening in the present. Or something. I was particularly inspired along this vein of thinking while recently reading The River Why by David James Duncan, which was given to me by a dear and wise friend upon my departure. In this point in the story, the main character, Gus, is hiking along a river with neither a reason nor destination he can articulate. But as he listens deep down, he feels drawn to trek onward. He says:

"...the glimmering began again; but when I'd take a stab at the thing that caused it, try to name it or even guess at its nature, then the glimmering abruptly stopped. So I called in Nameless ... still [I] caught nothing I could keep hold of. Just walked, watching as the sun made and melted prisms over the stairs of white water" (234-236).

As I stubble along here in Vietnam (or really anywhere) I feel like each step follows the last one and I continue forward and in that way am led... and when I try to articulate WHY things in my life were or are or will be, I end up confounded, frustrated and scared because in my noisy scramble, I can't hear those glimmerings. So it's nice to think about letting go of the power that articulation gives me and just relaxing a little and enjoying the scenery along the way.

Now that we're all feeling very deep and contemplative, I have one more thing to share... I have finally realized my lifelong dream of maternity and it's a boy!!

Ok that's not true. This is little angel is Chase. Sometimes we like to hang out. Especially when Ana is feeling tired of carrying him around and when I need the ego boost that walking along the sidewalk with a cute baby gives you. So many smiles from everyone you see!

Oriention... Vietnam... Go!

2008-08-23T02:28:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Hanoi! As I near the end of my first week here, I figure it is about time I make my first blog post. Entering the blogosphere will be yet another cultural adjustment, so please bare with me as I learn. Here it goes...

Between August 9 and 16, I along with about 100 other SALTers, IVEPers and YAMENers enjoyed MCC orientation in lovely Akron, PA. (quick acronym translation: SALT = Serving and Learning Together, IVEP = International Volunteer Exchange Program, YAMEN = Young Anabaptist Mennonite Exchange Program, MCC = Mennonite Central Committee). IVEP and SALT are opposites, meaning IVEP brings young people from around the world for a year of service in North America, while SALT sends from North America to a variety of global locations. YAMEN is a newer program that does South-to-South exchange, e.g., Africa to Asia. It was wonderful to share knowledge about our home countries with each other, as well our common excitement and anxiety. Here is an excerpt from my journal from August 10 that I think embodies the richness of insight I found could come with honest cross-cultural conversations:

I had a really interesting conversation with Maria (name changed) who is from Jordan about how she is really nervous about interacting with American men/scared about being around them at all. Apparently where she is from, people think that men in the US regularly grab women, stuff them in cars, drive them away and rape them. Unfortunately this very truly does happen... but not to the extent that Maria fears. So with very simple English, though hers is really quite good and she learning SO fast, I tried to explain that she does not need to feel severely scared for her safety while traveling to work or being there during the day. And then I was thinking about the frightening perceptions of the Middle East I have, and I tried to explain this and ask her if she feels scared being there all the time. She said no, and so I tried to make the connection that it's the same here - like I don't feel scared being out by myself and it's more about stereotypes and misperceptions. I don't really feel like I did a great job of explaining all this, but in the end she said thank you a lot and said she felt much calmer.

Noticing how her fears about America seemed so ridiculous to me but so real to her made me wonder how ridiculous my perceptions of other places around the world must be compared to the lived reality. The week was full of countless such learnings from other new MCCers and MCC staff. Along with the education, I felt it was a really valuable transitional space - not home but not my SALT location. There was also time for yoga on the lawn, a Latino dance party, and tons of photos snapped with new friends, including Edder from Colombia who is going to Goshen!

Then on Saturday the 16th, I was off for 33 hours of travel! We stared with a group of about a dozen travelers and at each stop along the way, it was time to say good bye to a few. As cliche as it sounds, it really seemed like we'd all known each other for much more than just one week! My dear fellow Hanoi SALTer, Hannah Forsyth, and I made the trip together all the way, and it was great to have a travel buddy the whole time.

We arrived nicely exhausted but in good spirits and with all our luggage. We were very fortunate to have a very uneventful and smooth journey. Hannah and I even got in a little bit of yoga with some new friends from Japan and the US during our layover in LA!

Since arriving in Hanoi, Hannah and I have been staying at the MCC House, a.k.a, Kim Ma House after the major street it is off of. This is where the country rep, Derek Hosteter, and his family, partner Ana and sons Lucas (4.5 years) and Chase (8 months), live. Paul Strietelmeier is a new three-year MCC who will be teaching university English classes is here for week too. Lowell Jantzi, the outgoing CR, is also here for about two weeks to orient us all. So far, we have all spent a lot of time at the MCC Hanoi office meeting the local staff and learning about MCC's experience in Vietnam over the past 50 years (all very interesting and inspirational stuff), spent a day riding around Hanoi on motor bike (see photo of Hanoi traffic below!) and visiting some important historical spots (the city will celebrate its 1000th birthday in 2010!!), and eating lots and lots of delicious food (with three to five different dishes every lunch and dinner, I have seriously not eaten the same thing twice!).

Altogether, the week has been very full, very disorienting, very orienting, tiring, exciting, meloncoly, happy, scary, and delicious. Sometimes I feel each emotion in turn and sometimes all together. Often I can't really tell how I feel... and then I simply exist and that's ok too. In any case, I am very glad that I am here and I feel sure I will continue to live bathed in a richness of emotions and experiences as long as I am here. As usual, the universe is very good to me.

Wow, I didn't really mean to write this much right off the bat! To conclude, here are some photos from Bat Trang, a village where families have been making ceramics for the past 800 years! We visited it this morning and toured the workshop where 10,000 Villages purchases all its Vietnamese ceramic ware. It was such a crazy feeling to see the finely painted blue and white tea pots and cups I recognize from the store at home... in their original home. The man who runs the workshop is the 18th generation to do so... what a feeling of rootedness to a physical place and to a craft. I can't even imagine. It was a beautiful experience to feel invited into that in a very small way with tea (or course), a personal tour, a free item for each of us, and a warm invitation to visit anytime we are in Bat Trang. I certainly plan on enjoying that invitation before too long.