Military Mishap

Entry #8.  March 22, 2012, 3:48 pm.  Cafe Nguyen, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  I'll admit I've been pretty lazy the past week since I have days between my rounds of interviews but not enough time to travel.  I've been bumming it mostly, and that's not a reference to the utensil I use to wipe my booty.  Speaking of the bum gun, my South African friends came up with a new name that trumps the former- welcome "Hemorrhoid Hose".  Wow the possibilities are endless.  But back to dimensions other than the dumpatorium.  Although I haven't been busy or very active, I have a few highlights since the last post that are worth sharing:

I have become good friends with a Vietnamese guy my age, who was one of the funnier students in my class- his name is Nguyen (seriously the most popular first name, last name, street name, cafe name, pet name, and of course one of the hardest to pronounce properly)- and he has been fantastically helpful- taking me out with his friends, helping me with Vietnamese, and is giving me motorbike lessons.  Controversial issue- set aside the American election and Tim Tebow trade- but yes I am going to get a motorbike.  Most foreign teachers get one, and it is definitely not as dangerous as you may think because with the high volume of traffic comes much slower speeds.  Helmets are required by law, and traffic laws are actually obeyed in Vietnam because the police will rock your socks if you break the law.  So Nguyen has been giving me practice lessons at the place where one would get his license- an obstacle course of sorts.  When I have gone, it is me with a bunch of old ladies and little teenagers practicing.  Making whitey proud.  They all stare at me the whole time and love it when I mess up.  Most traumatic was when I was practicing speeds.  The driving course is connected to a military post and for some reason they don't appreciate it when a big foreigner drives a motorbike around their 'secret' campus.  I didn't realize it was an important army base, and when I went too far onto their side of the camp, a man in uniform came running after me and shouted crazy Vietnamese words at me so that I would stop.  Nguyen came running to mediate the situation, but Mr. Apocalypse Now was not happy.  Apparently he accused me of being a spy.  Personally I was honored, but my face dared not show it.  So getting in an encounter with the military of Vietnam without getting deported- check.

Also, I indulged in the pastime of Asia on another night.  We're talking about karaoke here, people.  They say that we bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki and in return the Japanese gave us karaoke.  I've never been one to be excited about the prospect, but beer helps.  I went with a group of Vietnamese friends, at their request, and I think it was conniving of them because they could sense my potential for raw embarrassment.  It's not what you think, though.  Instead of one karaoke system for the entire place to hear, there are many rooms each with their own tv and song book that groups use at their leisure.  So that minimized my audience and the ear-bleeds I was to cause.  I serenaded our room with Bon Jovi, Hotel California, and a lovely version of a Vietnamese song with a lotus background that my friends requested.  It was....quite special.  I felt as though I was hovering over my own body and sprinkling rose pedals and angel kisses in people's hearts.  Psh gross.  More so I was spitting on the microphone and revealing my inherent tone-deafness.  I still don't understand why it is so popular, but it's just what they do and they are not ever embarrassed to sing in public.  What a different experience it is to enjoy the nightlife and restaurants with locals, though.  It becomes a much more sincere, authentic, and overall richer adventure, and I'm thankful to have met good friends from the city.

I've touched on the sensational Vietnamese cuisine without broadcasting the uglier side of the offbeat, local delicacies.  Of course there are insects, spiders, and snake products that you can find in the markets.  However I tried something more unique to Vietnam that also happened to defeat Andrew Zimmern on the Travel Channel's "Bizarre Foods".  It's a large egg with a partially developed duck fetus in it.  That's right, I spooned out an unborn duckling, chewed it and swallowed it, weird limbs, feathers, and all.  Suck it, Andrew Zimmern (no really, you're supposed to suck the juice as well).  The taste really wasn't that bad- it's just the texture and psychological label that needs to be triumphed.  This was my contribution to stem cell research.  So who's hungry?

Every Tuesday night I go to trivia with my teacher friends.  I love trivia (but loathe Alex Trebek) and was happy to discover this activity in 'Nam.  Being a connoisseur of trivia team names, I have given my team a name bank that we rotate through each week.  The favorites are Team: "Better Late than Pregnant", "Pretty Fly for White Guys", "The Chixie Dicks" (our former name at Hooters Gainesville), "Uncle Ho's Hoes", and "Show Us Your Tets!".  Tet is the Vietnamese new year and most popular holiday in the country, but more importantly the source of many inappropriate puns. 

This weekend I am going to Singapore with some other teachers.  Because we can.  I can't wait- I've heard many great things about the country, it's modernistic vogue, and great food.  I will upload pictures next week, unless I get detained for spitting my gum out on the streets.

PS- I am in first place in my March Madness bracket tournament.  Go Gators!

PPS- A note to OtherMother: My animalistic, innate wanderlust has indeed led me to find the Louis Vuitton store in Saigon.  Then my skill of logic and practicality led me away.

PPPS- I just walked out of my hotel and down the street to find Paul, my marine friend, getting hammered with five random older Vietnamese men on the side of the road.  He was speaking slurred English and they were uttering Vietnamese garble, but together they were speaking beer with a whiskey dialect, so they could understand each other.  I sat down for one drink, and what a hoot, but unfortunately they couldn't pick up sobriety and I had to meet someone, so I left them to their roadside rave. 

Shrewd Food

Entry #7.  March 15, 2012, 3:23 pm.  Hotel Room, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  It’s about time I ladle out my admiration and obsession for Vietnamese food.  The whisking of French and Vietnamese cuisines, peppered with influences from China, is truly something special.  The dishes here are hearty and healthy, tasty and toothsome, and appetizing as well as ample.  Simple scrumtulescent.  Seafood lovers will find their ambrosia, with mixes of shrimp, crab, fish, and squid tossed in sweet and tangy fish sauce.  Carnivores can delight in freshly boiled beef, suckling pork, and fried chicken.  And of course vegetarians will embrace the many preparations of tofu and exotic fruits and vegetables, each with a unique taste.  Vegans- just don’t come.  Lastly and most importantly, some of the desserts here are mouth-watering.  Yesterday I walked five blocks just to buy this lady’s deep-fried, over-ripe, sugar-battered bananas.  These caused a convulsive foodgasm, and if I had eaten her fried banana cake directly afterwards I may have broken down into dry heaves of crying.  The French imprinted their baking skills on Vietnam, so there are European-style bakeries on every street corner.  I love a certain bakery’s (called Bready- enjoy that Asian wit) freshly baked giant sugar donuts, which cost only thirty cents (approximately 8,000 dong).  Yes the currency is the dong, so naturally I am constantly thinking, “that’s what she said”.  I’ll get over it.  But I cannot go without writing about the pho- Vietnam’s most famous dish.  Pho (pronounced ‘fuh’) is a hot, brothy dish of thick noodles, beef, and a blend of herbs and spices.  You can just taste the healthiness.  It’s a dish, like all the other favorites, best eaten at the sidewalk restaurants, which are simply food vendors with a few carts, fold-up tables, and mini plastic chairs.  These restaurants offer pure freshness and localized flavor, and I can’t get enough of them.  In conclusion, the food in Vietnam is gift from God.

I have a special treat for you, readers.  A colleague of mine who teaches teenagers in Cambodia emailed a hilarious story that I am compelled to share. Last week, he came across students passing a note in class. When one student obtained the note the teacher promised the student that if he gave it to the teacher immediately, there would be no consequences, otherwise an essay would be given to write at home that night. The student wouldn't give up the note, saying it was a family secret, which was a full out lie as it had been passed around several times.  My friend, the teacher, decided 500 words was a sufficient essay for the student to write on the subject of "Why I shouldn't pass notes in class".

This is what the teacher received the next day, spelling and grammar errors untouched:

Why I don’t give you the note because this note is not for you to look why you want to look. This not is my family secret, my brother secret, my sister secret, my uncle secret, my aunt secret, my mother secret, my father secret, my grandmother secret, my grandfather secret, my younger brother secret, my younger sister secret, my older brother secret, my pet secret my waiter secret, my school secret, my home secret, my homeland secret, my friend secret and my secret. if you want to know my secret note you have to ask my family, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, younger sister, younger brother, older brother older sister. This secret note of my family is important to my family, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, my brother, my sister, and my hometown. If the secret note is lose my mother or my father will fight me until I find the secret note of my family and my hometown. If I keep the secret note of my family and my hometown my mother or my father will buy the robot boxing for me. If you want to read the secret note of my family and my hometown you can ask my father, my mother, my uncle, my aunt, my sister, my brother, my older brother or my older sister to look the secret note of my family and my hometown. But if you take the secret note and look if you lose my secret note I will tell my family to fight you until you find the secret note if you cannot find the secret note of my family and my hometown I will tell the police, F.B.I, C.I.A, S.W.A.T, Ranger to put you in the jail for 10 to 15 years. If you come out from the jail. You have to find the secret note of my family. If you cannot find the secret note of my family you will have punisment. If you have punisment you will get hurt. If you get hurt you will go to hospital. If you go to hospital you will spent a lot of money. If you spent a lot of money you will get low money. If you get low money you cannot buy the food. If you cannot buy the food you will always cry. If you cry you will go to work. If you cannot find the Taxi you will walk to work. If you walk to work you be get tired. If you tired you need water if you need water you will spent for water to walk to work. If you spent for water to walk to work you will get hungry. If you hungry you don’t have money you will dead. If you dead your family will cry for you. If your family cry for you your family will take in the fire. If your family take you in the fire you will be very hot. If you very hot you will go to hell.

Hilariously disdainful and shrewd.  Of course I couldn’t wait to share his essay with my father, my mother, my uncle, my aunt, my sister, my brother, my older brother, my older sister, my friends, my grandmother, my grandfather, and my pet.

Just Ask Bup

Notre Dame, Saigon

Post Office, est. 1886

Uncle Ho

Entry #6.  March 11, 2012, 12:44 pm.  Café Nguyen, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  The coffee in Vietnam is just spectacular.  Strong but sweet, caffeinated but tasty, iced but not watery, and refreshing on such a hot day.  I am sitting in a café that overlooks an old French colonial mansion, which houses the archbishop of the Catholic Church of Vietnam.  Pink and yellow bricks meet dark wrought iron to form an ornate fence that surrounds an impressive and elaborate manor house, which boasts three levels of porches, large and ordered windows, many arches, porticos, and finials that give it a prosperous yet inviting display.  The architecture complements the tall trees above and the harlequin gardens below.  The exotic flora and palms take me away from France and place me in mysterious old Saigon.  I can only imagine the stories of both French and Vietnamese dignitaries who have been entertained with sophisticated dinners in its halls over the many years.  I’m shocked LanguageCorps didn’t decide to house me here. 

Good news to all- I am a TESOL graduate as of this past Friday.  I am officially certified to teach English to non-native speakers, and the certification is accredited both at home and abroad.  I had my last class with the LC students on Friday as well, and it was a little sad to say goodbye.  Many of the students gave me gifts, some of which are quite funny.  A few gave me sweets, candy, and baked goods; others gave more elaborate gifts.  My favorite is a wood carving about the size of a notebook.  The top is a painted bumblebee with a very surprised look on its face and its hands popping over its head, and right below the bee it says “I am Jon”.  Jealous?  Another girl made me a leather bracelet that is quite nice, although the students took a picture of her putting it on me and the evidence is causing quite the gossipy scandal on Facebook.  Even though the website is banned, every young person is just as addicted to it as they are in the States.  I was tagged in this ceremonial bracelet picture, and there are about 20 comments on it already, all in Vietnamese, and I can only speculate what they are talking about.  Too many exclamation marks and emoticons for my liking.  However, all the students rated me with great marks and I think they both learned and enjoyed my classes.  My most cherished memory from teaching the young adults is the time when one of the more timid girls was running late to class.  I could hear her rushing up the stairs, which was followed by a loud, thumping crash-- she ran smack into the glass door that led into the classroom!  She quickly opened the door, clutching her nose and glasses, and sat down while trying her best to ignore the scene she had just caused.  Of course I lost it, barely keeping myself from rolling on the floor.  Eventually she started laughing too, but I will never forget that startled and pained look on her face when she realized a thick, unseen sheet of glass separated her from the classroom.  I had written about how the Asian student doesn't want to 'lose face'; this girl did, literally- her faceprint is probably still there.

Now that I am finished with my LanguageCorps training, I have absolutely nothing to do this coming week except to find a job and an apartment.  No big deal, right?  Supposedly it isn’t difficult for a native English speaker to find a job; it just becomes a matter of waiting to hear back and subsequently attending interviews.  For an apartment, I already looked at one and it seems to be a great fit.  Most importantly I will have my own wet bathroom, which I will of course pimp out with waterproof neon lights, shower radios, and perhaps a fog machine.  I will name it ‘The Thunderdome’.  There are three bedrooms and three baths, and the current flat-mate (yikes, it’s happening) is a really cool guy from Boston who is around my age.  Rent is affordable and includes a maid service three times a week.  Not to mention the maid cooks, cleans, does laundry, and makes the beds.  It looks like my laziness will be perpetuated for another few years.  Future wife, please don’t let me down, but I’ll just have high standards.

Today marks my second week in the Ho and I have still only scratched the surface of the city.  I am keen to have free time this week to just do whatever it is I feel.  Maybe I’ll go to the pool, go rock-climbing at the free gyms, practice driving a Motorbike in traffic with my Vietnamese friend, lurk at the bars, get a haircut/get my Asian on, travel, eat, or my personal favorite, drunkenly practice my Vietnamese with the taxi drivers.  Let me tell you, a slurred Western version of an Asian language is an angelic, unsullied version of music to your ears.  Just ask Bup, my latest taxi driver….unless he quit after he dropped me off.

A special note to my friends and family who are serious about visiting: It really is just a matter of finding a decent plane ticket and time off from your regular schedules.  Everything else is incredibly inexpensive yet reputable, and there are fantastic hotels, restaurants, and sites that will surprise you with their modernized amenities and unique traditions.  I can’t stress how worthwhile it would be, or how much is to be gained from experiencing such an inimitable and charming culture. 

The Young Learners and our Pic of the Week

The Young Adults

The Photo

You rike dis?

Rice diet = swimsuit downgrade

Entry #5.  March 1, 2012, 3:25 pm.  LanguageCorps Center, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  Happy Leap Day early readers.  Did you lose sleep this past week, waiting for my next blog post?  Me neither.  I apologize, though, because I never realized how busy these first four weeks would be. Since my arrival, I've had little free time and I'm certainly sleep-deprived.  I haven't even had much time to frolic in my wet bathroom.  After my initial two weeks of classes, we traveled to Sihanoukville, a coastal city in the south of Cambodia.  It is essentially the Phuket of Cambodia, albeit smaller and less known.  What an intensive, exhausting and grueling weekend that was.  I had to wake up early to claim a spot in the first row of beach chairs so the waves would reach my toes, then I had to choose between mango and pineapple milkshakes from the fruit lady, later I had to decide how long to lay on my back vs my stomach, and to top it all off, I had to choose between a full-body or foot massage from the massage lady.  I’m still recovering.  I don’t mean to boast, but I do mean to rub it in (massage pun intended). 

After I dealt with all that stress, it was time to move on to my chosen country of Vietnam.  Right now, you’re probably thinking “what the fun-buns, Jmart, you said your first 4 weeks were in Cambodia!”.  Well, you’re right, I said that.  I also said I was going to convince the stewardess to give me an aisle seat on the plane solely because I had just eaten a Big Mac.  It turns out that only the people who chose to go to China or stay in Cambodia remain in Phnom Penh for the entire 4 weeks; everyone else goes to their respective countries to finish the language program.  So here I sit in the Ho.  This week and next I am "practice teaching"- with real students of many ages and skill levels.  I am observed by LanguageCorps employees and given feedback, and I observe my peers and other real teachers.  I am excited to become real in two weeks.  There is one other man in my group for these two weeks, and wow, what a character.  His name is Paul and he is an ex-cop, ex-cop trainer, ex-marine, and ex-marine trainer.  How is it that I find myself drinking beers with an ex-marine in ‘Nam?  When I observe Paul, I notice some hilarious techniques that he uses with his students.  To get their attention, he bellows, and I mean he really belts “OOOORAH!”.  Imagine being a timid, small Asian student and getting startled by a massively booming military voice.  My personal favorite is when the students start talking while he is talking.  He’ll turn to face them and shout “AT EASE!”, just as if he were training future U.S. marines.  Even the youngest kids fall victim to his thundering commands!  Holy LOL.

Saigon (used instead of Ho Chi Minh City for the sake of brevity (although I just had to write that citation because I used Saigon)) is a beautiful city- much prettier, greener, and more modernized than Phnom Penh.  Given Cambodia’s dark and chilling history (even compared to that of Vietnam), I guess this shouldn’t be surprising.  Further, the food is tastier and the people are consequently fatter, to my amusement.  I’m still much taller than everyone, so I still feel tough…not that that’s any different from my existence in America.  However, I really haven’t explored much of the city because of another hectic schedule- I take Vietnamese language class in the morning, then I have a lesson planning block, and later I teach at 1:30 and again at 5 pm.  When I get back to my hotel (yes Mom, the bed sheets are still clean), I must plan ahead for the following day’s lessons.  Naturally, I am very excited for the weekend, when I'll have time to soak in my new host country.  One negative point for Vietnam- facebook is blocked.  Of course the first thing I wanted to do was update my status to let everyone know.  There is a way around it by downloading some new browser and reconfiguring some Steve Jobs crap, but this is beyond my scope for now.

On another note, can we all agree that an Asian accent while speaking English is probably the funniest out there?  I mean, herrrrrrow!  Well, reverse that concept, and you’ll understand why the Vietnamese smile or full-out laugh when I try to speak their language. I so habbing trub-oh wiss my Asin assent.  You rike dis?  Vietnamese is a tonal language, like Mandarin, so words can be pronounced many different ways to divulge completely new meanings—lots of ambiguity.  I’m sure I called the coffee lady a shrimp tail, and I may have told the hotel clerk that she was hairy. 

Again, thank you for commenting, as I enjoy checking the blog to see if any new ones have appeared.  My next entry will include pictures of the Ho.  That’s the city, not the bargirl soliciting herself to the 60 year-old Westerner.  I hope all is well for each of you.    

Driver's ed.