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“Teacher, do you have baby?!”

Apparently, it’s not a full day on the job as an English teacher in Asia if you don’t have tears, a fight, and a reference to how fat you are–all in the same day.

Lining up after a busy day.Let me explain.

The Young Learners market all over Asia is booming, so I have several kids classes–even at 7:45 Saturdays and Sundays. Since kids have school during the week, parents will send them when they don’t, on the weekend, the time kids in America would consider their precious time away from homework and tests. Teens spend their free time cramming for English language standardized tests that lead to study abroad opportunities.

Tears? It was the last day in class for my “Flyers” group, or my group of advanced 8-12 year-olds, and we were playing games. One of my 8-year-old students is very bright, but can’t sit still and bothers other students by acting out in class. He needed a chair, so he pulled one out from another girl who was about to sit. We sorted the problem out in no time, but it’s never a comforting feeling to suddenly turn around to one of your students in crumpled in tears on the floor.

A fight? I teach an adorable group of 7-8 year-olds for two hours Saturdays and Sundays things like colors, days of the week, and how to ask someone if they like ice cream. We play lots of games to practice language and keep them engaged, and naturally, the kids can get very competitive. After two boys’ turn at a board race, they ended up in a fist fight, arguing over one who had made fun of the other for losing the turn. My TA (Teacher’s Assistant) and I split it up quickly, but we had sullen faces for a couple minutes.

After these morning classes, I return to the teachers room, and relate what happened to my co-workers, one said, “What ’til you have blood in the same class, too.”

That leaves the fat reference. I have to preface this with several explanations. One, at 5’5″, I am taller than most of my Vietnamese counterparts, as are many westerners, so we are naturally larger than most. Two, due to Vietnamese history, as my friend explained to me, being more plump than others is a sign of wealth, thus being told you are fat is a huge compliment. Three, Vietnamese are not shy about telling or asking you for details that may seem rude in western cultures–like telling you that your shirt makes you look fat. In my evening teens class, we were working on physical descriptions, and the thirteen-year-old I called on described me as having blonde hair, being very beautiful, and being fat. Oh, only in Asia.

And if that didn’t make me feel great enough, my third-grade class had input on the subject, too. It’s my last class of the morning at a local primary school, and I’m trying to dismiss the class when one of my more enthusiastic girls sitting in the very back of the room jumps up and down, and says, “Teacher, I have a question!! Do you have baby?! Because your belly very big!”

Ooof. I swear, it was just because I was wearing a dress with an empire waistline! Naw, it doesn’t bother me, but it’s just one of those, “Really??” moments that makes you wince, and then smile.

Day by day, so much to learn. Let’s just hope I never have blood in the classroom.

Nha Trang’s #1 Lady–she’s not Miss Universe

What do Ke$ha and a resort in Nha Trang, Vietnam have in common? Their apparent love of utilizing the dollar sign as a legitimate letter of the alphabet. I got a kick out this hotel’s signage on the right side of the building.

Islands ring the coast around Nha Trang, making the city a prime launch point for island hoping.

However, instead of waking up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy, the Vietnamese of Nha Trang make like Jane Fonda in the early hours, heading beachside for exercise in the sunrise. Nha Trang is Vietnam’s most famous beach, and gained more international popularity after hosting Miss Universe 2008. This sultry getaway became my first stop on my backpacking travels up the coast of Vietnam from HCMC.

My overnight train pulled in around 5:30am, and I quickly found a taxi to my hotel. As we drove past the beachfront, I was surprised to see how many people were running, stretching, and performing what looked like Tai Chi, not only individually but in surprisingly well-coordinated groups.

Several groups of locals as well as Asian tourists had already hit the beach, playing in the waves of the South China Sea. As my friend explained to me, Asians think it’s crazy that westerners tan their bodies in mid-day sun since pale skin is prized in Asia. Therefore, many Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean tourists will jump in early morning or late afternoon, often fully clothed to protect their skin.

Local commuters were already flooding the large street lining the beachfront on motorbikes and bicycles. I checked into my hotel, a stone’s throw away from the shore, and rushed outside to take pictures of the sunrise. On my way to the shore, I almost literally ran into a large group of backpackers fresh from the night bus from Hoi An, looking for the best new place to crash.

Tourism is obviously Nha Trang’s #1 industry, and street hawkers of all kinds gather to reap the benefits of naive tourists, flush with money on their person than some of these people will see in a month. These hawkers can get annoying sometimes when you think, “This is the 6th person on this street who’s tried to sell me a photocopy version of The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo.” However, these business-savvy peddlers can learn English just by interacting with tourists. One of these individuals happens turned into one of my favorite people in Vietnam: the #1 Lady of Nha Trang beach.

Who is she? A fruit hawker; she sells mangos, dragon fruit, chom-choms, and other tropical fruit to vacationers lounging beachside. This comical businesswoman acquired her title while I was lounging under a beach umbrella with a group of backpacker friends.

The woman walked up to us carrying her produce the traditional Vietnamese way—on a pole supported by her shoulder suspending two baskets full of goods. Ready for a long day under the sun on the beach, she wore a long-sleeved purple zip, orange patterned pants, a conical hat cushioned by a floppy army cap and tied under her chin with a handkerchief. Her eyes were lined with a heavy rim of black.

After we declined her offers for fruit, she wailed, “No money, no honey. Why no buy my fruit?” My good-humored British-Indian friend, sat on a beach chair with her husband and started to joke with our hawker. Pretty soon, this fruit seller was hamming it up. She first pretended to cut my friend’s hubby with her fruit knife, calling him a ladyboy, and offering him a pair of little girls’ flip-flops to wear. Switching gears, she started to compare skin types and said, “See? Same-same! You Vietnamese!” Later, it became compliments, “You work out, and be #1 Indian man!” She tells us her name is Me (pronounced “my”) Coincidentally, I was also given the same Vietnamese name by a charming hair stylist named “Steven.” Me and I bounded over our commonality.

After about 10 minutes, she sits down at the base of my chair. A marathon storyteller, Me continues weaving yarns in broken English, animatedly gesticulating to fill in the language gaps about theft on the beach, the dangers of drinking while swimming, and fat foreign women. We find that although she cannot read or write in English, she learned to speak from 18 years of selling fruit on the beach.

Her stories attract other hawkers to our umbrella bunch, a woman selling sunglasses, and another just comes to listen. She pauses to fill in her Vietnamese spectators, but remains focused on retaining us as her original audience—the white tourists.

After a last attempt to sell us fruit, she departs with her load of produce, kicking up sand with her flip-flops. She left us, not as just another nameless hawker, but as Me, #1 Lady of Nha Trang beach.

Surprise news: Cambodian stampede during Water Festival

Modified from the original post on November 23, 2010 on Girl Meets World, which chronicled my travels in Vietnam and South East Asia.

“Hundreds Die in Cambodian Stampede” is the current headline on the BBC Asia-Pacific News homepage. The accident occurred in Phnom Phen, while I celebrated the festival in Siem Reap–I had been in the country’s capital days before and was taken aback by the news. After a concert following the races of the Water Festival, hundreds crammed a bridge and sudden pushing caused a panic that started a crush that has killed over 300, injuring many more.

Bon Om Tuk, the Water Festival, held in Cambodia this weekend, features long, narrow dragon boats racing  furiously downriver while crowds jam the riverside. Thousands come from the countryside to see the festivities either in Phnom Phen or Siem Reap. I was lucky enough to be part of the festivities Saturday in Siem Reap, while visiting the city to tour the legendary temples of Angkor Wat.

While on a Skype call, catching up with my parents after returning from Cambodia to HCMC, my dad told me the count was up to 300. I had to excuse myself from the conversation while overwhelmed with emotion. The festivities I saw in Siem Reap were such a uniquely Cambodian experience. Everything in Siem Reap revolves around tourism since the legendary temples of Angkor Wat lie less than 10 miles away from the city center. But this was a celebration of Cambodia, for Cambodia.

The Tonlé Sap is the largest freshwater lake in South East Asia, a crucial life force, providing nearly half of the country with fish and water for irrigation.  The Water Festival marks the time when the Tonlé Sap reverses its flow of water, pouring its resources back into the Mekong Delta after the flooding of the monsoon season. In other words, not only is it a big deal for area ecosystems, but the festival is also a big part of Cambodian culture.

Everybody came out for the party—teens dressed to impress in fashionable jeans and hoodies, vendors selling everything from food to iPod cases, children holding animal-shaped balloons, old women and men wrapped in traditional skirts. Carts filled with street food from every kind of meat-type-item-on-a-stick to freshly cut fruit to ice cream to paper-thin banana chocolate “pancakes” filled with sweetened condensed milk. Carnival rides and bouncy houses provided family-friendly entertainment and everybody shared the grassy banks of the river to watch the races. Fireworks ended the night. It was refreshing to see something not catered to foreign tourists, and the night really represented Cambodia coming to find out who she is on her own.

A friend who works ESL in Siem Reap was going to go to Phnon Phen for the festival, but decided to go to the beach hub of Sihanoukville instead. She warned us about the crowds expected in both locations, and I considered myself lucky to be in Siem Reap where the festivities would be lively, but certainly not as crowded as the capital.

This eyewitness account from the BBC of Australian Sean Ngu, who was visiting friends and family in Phnom Phen, recalls the events from the festival.

“The water festival is one of the most important celebrations in the year and many people arrive from the countryside. The city is full of people. It is very quiet right now, apart from the ambulances. What a tragic end to a wonderful celebration.”

Despite crippling poverty, government corruption, and years of war-plagued misery, Cambodia has promise of recovery. The tourist industry has helped put the country on the map for something other than poverty, and Cambodia is emerging as a major stop on the South East Asian loop. I honestly loved Cambodia, from what I could gain from my weeklong stay.

Retrospect: Vietnam

Originally posted on October 10, 2010 on Girl Meets World, which chronicled my travels in Vietnam and South East Asia.

I feel like Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 500 Days of Summer. After successfully wooing his love interest Zooey Deschanel, he lists her little quirks that endear her to him.

I feel like I’m doing the same thing here in Vietnam. Now that I’ve spent over two weeks in the country, and now several days in HCMC, a certain familiarity with a different lifestyle helps write my mental list.

-Iced coffee.

-Little plastic chairs and tables for street side dining.

-$0.25 baguettes at every turn.

-Street badminton. Hacky sack with a badminton birdie.

-$2 manicures. $6 haircuts.

-The grace and moxie of Vietnam’s many high heel clad fashionistas and businesswomen, astride motorbikes.

-Monsoon season: LOVE IT. No sweat, fewer tourists, keeps the bugs at bay.

-The thrill of a motorbike ride down a boulevard strewn with twinkle lights.

-Café culture. There’s a certain rhythm to enjoying your meal. Waiters don’t rush you out; just ask for the bill when you’re ready.

It’s good to be back in HCMC. Nicknamed the Paris of the East for influence from its French colonial past, HCMC has reincarnated into the New York of the East from the frenetic rhythm that drives its residence.

These cuties that came up to me at the Botanical Gardens in HCMC remind why I want to teachThese cuties that came up to me at the Botanical Gardens in HCMC remind why I want to teach

I wonder if this is just the honeymoon period, or if like Gordon-Levitt, I’ll turn on this newfound love, peevishly naming the same endearing traits as irksome misfortunes. The thing is, regardless of what I do or where I go after my CELTA, I’ve learned a thing or two while traveling in Vietnam. Wherever I decide to go, I know not only that there are beautiful things in every place, but those unique characteristics are only one facet.

It’s like this. The Best Day Ever I alluded to in an earlier blog? I declared that day my Best Day, because I concluded what I had planned for my overseas adventure was, in fact, possible. After a day’s worth of successfully navigating streets running errands, I was also meeting great, interesting people, who happened help me with what seemed to be exactly the right thing at the right time. It’s not that I didn’t think I could succeed in my venture while still Stateside, but when you travel so far on recent graduate’s budget, certain misgivings can nag. My Best Day Ever was the realization that wherever I go, I’ll be okay and make it through.

I was grateful for (and am now blissfully listing) the little things—they’re what give a place a unique character. But what I realized was what I was most grateful were those experiences that showed language, culture, and location don’t divide mankind.

-An unguarded smile, caught in surprise.

-Honesty in a transaction when too much money exchanged hands.

-Help with a heavy bag without a money-seeking intention.

-A child’s laugh.

-An old man’s wisdom.

-The love of family.

-The success of hard work.

I have been the recipient of so many amazing experiences and boundless generosity over the past two weeks. And now it comes time for the hard task that brought me here–the CELTA. My class starts tomorrow morning at ILA Vietnam; I need to appear promptly at 8:45am. I met with my group Saturday night for dinner, and I know it’s going to be a good experience. Although we all shared our anxiety about working through this rigorous 4-week course, we relaxed knowing there were 18 people with the same objective. A diverse, international group, my class is connected by a common goal: successfully passing the CELTA.

Celebrating 1,000 Years in Hanoi

Originally posted on October 6, 2010 on Girl Meets World, which chronicled my travels in Vietnam and South East Asia.

This classic icon of Hanoi, Huc Bridge in Hoan Kiem Lake, was packed with visitors for the 1,000 Year Anniversary of Hanoi.

This classic icon of Hanoi, Huc Bridge in Hoan Kiem Lake, was packed with visitors for the 1,000 Year Anniversary of Hanoi.

Traveling anywhere in Hanoi its impossible to ignore the signs: Hanoi 1,000 Years. October 2010 marks the 1,000-year anniversary for the Vietnamese capital, and this city is going to make sure everybody knows it. From October 1 to October 10, the city is celebrating with street-side entertainment, performances, speeches–and the people are abuzz with excitement.

This city is beautiful without all the extra gussy for the celebration. Trees grow up out of street cracks to bring much needed green to this haze-chocked city. French influence is felt through surviving colonial buildings that, tree-lined boulevards, and the fresh bread sold at every street corner. But there is something extra beautiful when a city comes together to celebrate what makes it special.

Yesterday I ventured to explore the area around Hoan Kiem Lake, and celebrations were in full swing. The most similar parallel I can draw is a 10-day long 4th of July celebration, complete with street demonstrations, parades, and small-scale entertainment at every corner. Vietnamese love taking pictures of each other, and seeing couples in wedding outfits in parks around the country with a photographer is a common scene. Today, everybody from gobs of teens, families, and couples decked to the nines were posing by the iconic symbols that surrounded Hoan Kiem.

Starting at the historical Ngoc Son Temple, I just aimed to meander around the water.  But when I first stepped onto the path riming the lake, a teen came up to me with a sheet of red, heart-shaped stickers that looked like the Vietnamese flag. She placed one on my cheek, then one on my hand. She then asked me for 20,000 VND ($1). Slightly annoyed, I thought, “When in Rome,” and paid, thinking at least I looked ready to celebrate with the rest of Hanoi.

Not two seconds later, a wedding photographer who’d been taking shots of a soon-to-be groom paused to ask to take a picture of me. I then asked if I could get a shot of him, and the groom came over to take a shot of the two us! As all of this scene is happening, crowds of gaggling teens surround, taking their own pictures for the occasion. Apparently, with the sticker on my face, I was offering another photo opportunity for these party-ready Hanoians.

These guys politely asked to sit down next to me. I think they wanted to practice their English.

These guys politely asked to sit down next to me. I think they wanted to practice their English.

However, what was truly great about yesterday is that I believe I was seeing the best of Hanoi and of Hanoians. Everybody was out in full patriotic swing to celebrate and love the city together. A woman was pushing her husband in a wheelchair on the sidewalk and was looking to get down into the street to watch the performance. As soon as the first wheel edged off the walk, six from the crowd immediately sprang up to aid this couple.

I took to the time to recognize what a special and unique position I was in myself. In the capital of the country mine own was at war with not forty years ago, I was walking around, carefree, happily greeted by all I came across. As a developing country with an easily bribed government, Vietnam has many things it’s working out. However, a lot is going right in Vietnam, and the country has a right to celebrate.

***

Find more pictures from my Picasa photo gallery: Hanoi.

Blogging from my backpack

Originally posted on October 10, 2010 on Girl Meets World, which chronicled my travels in Vietnam and South East Asia.

This shot of Hoi An's sleepy river life hides the numerous vendors hawking goods to crowds of international tourists.

This shot of Hoi An's sleepy river life hides the numerous vendors hawking goods to crowds of international tourists.

Simply put, South East Asia is the new Europe when it comes to backpacking popularity. Tourism is booming; it’s a leading industry in the rapidly developing country. And it’s not just the wild American co-ed who’s exploring the rich beauty of Vietnam–the country attracts a large cross-section of Asian tourists, European backpackers, and families from Australia on holiday.

Everyone from European tourists to Chinese businessmen use English in Vietnam as the lingua franca, requiring anybody who wants to make a dong to know the new international business language.

It’s funny—just by traveling to Vietnam, now a key vacation destination, I am experiencing a large diversity of Asian peoples, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian, South Koreans, albeit very superficially.

Everywhere I go, I see tourists and backpackers alike clutching the traveler’s  tome, Lonely Planet. Be careful where you purchase your guide; I picked up my copy of the wayfarer’s bible and realized it was just that: a copy.

Eager to earn an extra couple thousand dong or two (one USD about 20,00 VND), many street vendors hawking books sell photocopies bound in what may seem like legitimate covers. What you may find inside may disappoint when the text runs grainy and the pages detach from the binding.

Jumping onto the backpacking bandwagon, I am spending two weeks before my CELTA, traveling up the coast of Vietnam to get acquainted with this no-longer-sleeping beauty.

The plan?

Three days in HCMC. Settle, and explore the town I’ll be living in for the next four weeks.

Two days in Nha Trang. Made famous when it hosted the Miss Universe Pageant in 2008, Nha Trang is known for it’s world-class beach—where you can find me.

Three days in Hoi An. Once the “it” port for international commerce, attracting trade from Japan, China, and Europe during the 16th century, Hoi An was slowly forgotten as the French set up in nearby Da Nang. Today, it’s historic streets flood with tourists looking for its traditional charms.

Four days in Hanoi. Hanoi, the capitol of Vietnam, is celebrating its 1,000th anniversary this October. For the first 10 days of the month the northern metropolis will be packed with tourists, domestic and international, to participate in designated festivities.

Back to HCMC. Settle from my backpacking venture, and prepare for the CELTA.

More to come. I’m trying not to be attached to my laptop—who needs the internet where there’s exploring to do?

Read more about each of the places I visited, including the best day ever in HCMC—meeting and greeting with travelers and locals in Saigon, Nha Trang’s comical “#1 Lady”—a beachside fruit hawker, my cooking class in sleepy Hoi An during monsoon season, and tips on traveling through Vietnam.