Introduction

I am reviewing my post of 07-09-2004. When I wrote that I would need some time to edit my material and "...think about what I have written..." I had no idea that the process would be so difficult. Dead lines are important for me. If I didn't have them I would go on revising into the year 2005 and miss the important opportunity of receiving your critical comments.

My good fortune has permitted me to visit many parts of the world. Each journey has changed me, caused me to see myself in a new light, or to view the world with a different perspective. This trip caught me completely unawares. In one sense it snuck quietly up from behind and emotionally clobbered me. It has brought tangible changes in my life and will continue to change me in ways that I can only imagine.

Because of the personal nature of the trip I will disguise the last name (which in Vietnam comes first) of the family that I stayed with. Let's call them Nguyen. First names (which in Vietnam come last) will remain intact because they signify many. The small town where I stayed is somewhere near Hanoi in northern Vietnam, I will call it Go Dau. It is a pleasant small town with a labyrinth of narrow streets at its core. Most streets are lined with trees, which in many places reach from one side to the other forming a continuous canopy. To my knowledge it possesses not one tourist attraction and therefore I saw not one tourist during my three-week's residence.

A simple invitation to visit Vietnam initiated my journey. My friend Thang and I worked at the same location for about a year. He was born in Vietnam and immigrated to the United States with his family when he was four years old and is now twenty-five. He visited Vietnam for the first time about four years ago and talked about making another trip in the future. Over time his plans for a return trip solidified. He invited me and others to visit him during his stay in the summer of 2004. I had vacation time in July so I made plans to meet him there. Before our departures we talked about a stay in Go Dau with his family and travel together to various parts of Vietnam he had never seen. My only fixed plan was to purchase an air ticket spanning about one month, obtain a Vietnamese visa for one month, and make my way to Go Dau.

In the backgound I prepared for my usual mode of travel. I purchased an up to date guidebook, in this case, The Rough Guide to Vietnam by Jan Dodd and Mark Lewis, 4th edition published in 2003. I often work my way through a country from one tourist attraction to the next with the help of my guidebook. This plan had worked well in Indonesia, Thailand, India, Morocco, Costa Rico and Peru.

A few days after my arrival in Go Dau it was clear that Thang was not up for travel. As the son of the oldest male and the second oldest sibling on his father's side of the family he was a person of considerable status. In the future his status on the father's side of the family would only grow. Thang felt that he needed to solidify his ties to all his family living in Go Dau, his older uncles and aunts as well as their children who were his age. Also, he wanted to improve his communication skills in Vietnamese. He could not understand much of the everyday conversation around him because his Vietnamese ability reached about the level of a middle school student.

Thang knew that I enjoyed traveling about, but he put the following argument to me quite convincingly. He said that next summer I could travel to Vietnam, follow a guidebook, and go anywhere I pleased. On the other hand, while he was in Go Dau I would have the unusual opportunity to experience the daily life of his extended family along with him. This encounter would be available to no causal visitor or tourist.

Thang also knew that my life views and experiences contrasted sharply with his and suggested as much. I am the only child of only children and therefore have no one close relative. He has eleven aunts and uncles just on his father's side of the family. And then you have to include all the nieces, nephews, and cousins. While I was growing up my parents always lived isolated, and self-contained lives. My parents always sought out the edge of town. My father was a wage earner. Most of Tang?s family in Vietnam are in business and live in the middle of town. Their business lives intertwine and interlock. Family members constantly wonder from house to house, take an afternoon nap wherever, sleep over anywhere. In all my childhood I can count on one hand the times when anyone slept over at our house. Every night of my stay in Go Dau, Thang's room always had overnight visitors; often it was full to overflowing. Here was my chance to live a radically different life style.

Finally, he said that if I stayed I would experience a variety and quality of Vietnamese home cooking that simply could not be purchased if I ate at Vietnamese restaurants. We would be eating lunch and dinner at a different locations daily. Even he could not get this quality of food at home in the US because the fresh ingredients were not available and his hard working mother did not have the time to prepare it. I thought of school cafeteria meals and my one-pot attempts at home. I was convinced. I would stay.

During my stay in Go Dau only Thang and Giang spoke fluent English. I cannot thank them enough for all their effort to help me understand and appreciate my surroundings. Since they were my only informants my journal will often express their views on various topics.

In Go Dau, Thang's uncles and aunts live in two clusters. One set gathers on Hgo Quyen Street and the other gathers at 46 Tuy An Street. One uncle lives out of town. I have included a list of all Thang's uncles and aunts and some of their children. They are listed in birth rank order from oldest to youngest. I have included only those names that figure in my narrative. The listing is by no means complete. If I list an uncle or aunt's name in the narrative I will try to include their birth rank.

Each day of my stay in Vietnam will appear as a separate post. I have given each entry a title to give it focus, and at the end I have included two or three questions that a teacher may ask students. I thought the questions might be useful if a teacher were using my journal as a resource in the classroom. I would appreciate any comments readers may have along this line. Enjoy.
[Edit by="rwalcott on Sep 9, 11:15:18 PM"][/Edit]

June 28-9.doc

Beginnings

It's very early Monday morning in La Canada, California. I have had all weekend to pack and get ready for my trip to Vietnam. Last Sunday night I ran out of time. Now I must accept the fact that some of my plants will dry out and die before my I return. It's the same old story. Something is always left unfinished by he time I must depart.

Also, it's the same old story about avoiding too much luxury on trips. I have decided to take the regular bus to the airport rather than pay the expense of door-to-door service. I find the price differential too seductive; eighty-five cents compared with $30 or $40 dollars. The only catch is that I must walk one mile down the hill from my house to the bus stop on Foothill Blvd. and Angeles Crest Hwy. My baggage is restricted to one small backpack. And finally, I must leave at 5:45 am arrive at LAX by 10:30 am check in. I am late and jog down the highway to meet the bus at 6:15. I arrive out of breath and sweaty. The bus pulls up early at 6:06. I?m glad I ran and on my way. I also know that I'm over weight and out of shape; I've know this for two year now. Didn't I tell myself to finally do something about my condition in March?

I take Beeline #3, transfer to bus 91 in Montrose and arrive at Olympic and Main downtown and wait for the LAX bus. After a 20 minute wait I see the bus approaching my stop, I wave, and it speeds on by. What has just happened? How soon with the next bus arrive? Will I miss my flight?

Another bus pulls up and I explain what happened. The driver, a woman, explains that today drivers are rotated to new routes and perhaps the driver is not familiar with all the stops that he must make. She offers to let me ride with her and she tries to catch the LAX bus. It is too far ahead and she lets me off at a stop where the next bus that I want must slow down and stop. I wait impatiently, the LAX bus does arrive and I make it to the airport with plenty of time to check in, walk around and catch my Japan Airlines flight. I ride economy class and do not expect too much service. I am wrong. All the passengers are fussed over during the entire trip to Japan. The food is wonderful. After a short wait in Japan I catch the connecting flight to Saigon.

Before my arrival I worry about three things. First, through a lack of communication I am landing in Saigon in the south of Vietnam rather than in Hanoi in the North. My pricipal destination is northern Vietnam where I have been invited to stay with the family of my friend Thang. I have not definitively decided whether I will make the long journey north by air, by train, or by bus. Second, my guidebook advises me to have a little Vietnamese money in my pocket for use to travel from the airport into town. I have tried to buy some Vietnamese Dong, but can find no one who sells it. Third, I will be arriving in a strange city at 11:00 pm when it could be dangerous. I need transport for the seven miles between the airport and district one where I hope to find economical lodging.

I disembark, walk toward the exit of the Saigon airport and see that two of my thee problems will be solved. There, near the exit door is a small cubical of the National Bank which is open and offering a good exchange rate, a little more that 15,000 Dong for one Dollar. Nearby is a car rental service and the woman in charge offers to sell me a fixed price taxi coupon for $4, which is good for the trip into town. I buy the coupon.
I quickly discover how very tired and vulnerable I am when another clerk brings my attention to the floor beside me. My entire wad of Dong worth $100 lies scattered at my feet. Embarrassed, I pick it up, check once more to see if my paints pockets are secured, and exit into the night.

The army of voracious taxi drivers ready to attack me does not materialize. One diver steps forward, examines my coupon, and directs me to the taxi I will take. Again my guide book has warned me that the taxi driver will offer to take me to a hotel of his choice, one where he will receive a tip for bringing me there. My taxi driver does make a suggestion, but I kindly insist that I want to be driven to Pham Ngu Lao Street, a location were most budget travelers find lodgings. Without further discussion he complies with my request.

I?m exhausted by the long flight and choose the first hotel, the Song Hai, 185/4 Pham Ngu Lao, that I see. It is located up a small alley. The proprietress speaks little English, but she is very cheerful and playful. She pats me and pinches me and I start assuming things that I should not. I find out later on my return from the north that she is very playful, outgoing, and quite a delight. She says that the room will be $5 (why did I bother to change money?) that it is on the first floor, that I must walk through a very dark kitchen to get to it, and that it has no outside window. I?m exhausted. I take it and fall immediately asleep.

Questions:
Just before you leave on a trip are you or your family organized or disorganized before leaving on a trip?
Do you or members of your family worry about problems you may encounter on your trip prior to departure?

[Edit by="rwalcott on Sep 9, 11:20:16 PM"][/Edit]

July 1, 2004

On the Road

Nick, one of the receptionists at the My Hoa Hotel, 07 Hang Ca St., speaks careful English. Together we, or I get the 6 sounds of Vietnamese right. "High breaking" and "low breaking" I think means that there is an aspirated "h" which is the "break" that separates what are essentially two sounds.

I help Nick with his English "a" as in "ate" or "mate". I discovered his problem when we are talking about buying a book to learn Vietnamese. He says that he does not have a book, but he did have a tape. "Tape" comes out like "tap" and I don't understand him at first. So the eternal teacher in me constructs a scaffold for him to learn how to get a proper "a" sound. I pair words like: tap-tape, mat-mate, hat-hate, and mad-made. He really has physical problems making the "a" the sound. All the veins on his neck stand out with the strain of saying "a". There must be an easier way! I explore combinations like: father-has-mate, which provides three different "a" sounds. I explain that it all happens for me at the back of my throat.

I go on to learn the numbers 1-20 and 1,000-10,000, how to say "hello" and "thank you" in Vietnamese. I ask him what I should bring to my hosts in Hanoi and he suggests "Me Xu'ng Hue", a sweet made only in Hue.
The bus ride starts at 8:45 with a pick up at my hotel. Observing the landscape and reading my Rough Guide, as we ride along, I see how the Chams were pushed back, South mountain pass by mountain pass which separate lush farm lands in between.

Riding along I idly think about language and why Vietnamese and Chinese have tones. I come to a conclusion, which is most likely, completely ridiculous, but at the time I think it's brilliant. (Maybe I've read it somewhere and have forgotten). Any way, my thoughts run as follows: If your native language is all single syllables and each has a complete meaning, you run out of sounds because you can only modify vowels just so much. So you run out of sounds to express meaning. So you turn to tones to create more sounds to catch up with meaning. What a crock! How the mind drifts into strange areas sitting hour after hour on a bus.

On the road at about 3pm my rear end nerves are really acting up and I wonder why I took the bus rather than the railroad. I've seen the rail track parallel to the road, but never the train. Finally, we stop at the railroad crossing. It turns into an elaborate ceremony. The crossing guard pulls out the crossing gate, which is on rollers, from either side of the road. Not even a bicycle can get through. He is in uniform and salutes with his raised baton as the train passes. Seeing the train I am reminded why I do not take them. All the curtains on the windows are pulled shut. It?s a ride in a darkened, air-conditioned tomb. No thanks! I'll put up with my sore butt.

Surprisingly, my rear end pain subsides at 5 pm and we pull in to Hoi-an at 6:30 pm. The bus does the usual trick and goes to a hotel, Hoang Trinh rather than dropping us at the bus office to secure reservations for the next day's journey. I feel pushed around. The Hoang Trinh, 76/4 Phan Dinh Phung, Hoi-an, is not on my list of economy hotels in the Rough Guide. But, since it is only two blocks away from the bus station where I must go to secure my reservation I decide to at least look at a room and not be stubborn.

In typical fashion they show me their worst down stairs room first for $6. I bargain to $5 and say I want an up stairs room. Two grim Japanese travelers on the bus go for the down stairs room and I act unconcerned. I am shown an up stairs room with fan for $6. I say $5 and get my price. It turns out to be a great room for me with large windows and a great shower.

Talking to a young Australian couple I learn that it's the Hoi-an new moon festival tonight. They thought it was last night, but lucky for them it is tonight and lucky for me too. And better still, the festival is within walking distance of the hotel.

The festival is free of vehicles. Police barricade all the entries to a complex of five streets housing the old Chinese quarters of Hoi-an. It's dark except for colorful Chinese paper lanterns hanging everywhere. I see many old wooden buildings. I enter one that has a sign saying it is a museum-carving-artifacts-cotton/silk weaving-embroidery-clothes store. Actually I want to see the inside of this two-story wooden building without paying an admission fee. My guide is a charming young girl who speaks careful English. Up stairs they have living silk worms and an area for drying cocoons.

Out on the street different locations feature opera, poetry reading, pot breaking, Chinese chess, and martial arts. At the river candles are floating on the water. I am offered a boat ride on the river, but turn it down. I stop in a crowded restaurant for a bowel of noodles. They are tasty with crunchy square things mixed in for 7,000 dong (about 50 cents).

Barriers come down, motor scooters invade, the romance is over. I?m tired and go back for much needed sleep. On the way I write an e-mail to announce my arrival in Hanoi on the 3rd. At 100 dong/min I use 1 minute (think it was thee) and get the service free on the promise that I will return. I find the arts shop where I earlier had my tour and buy a nice silk tie for my host (or one of his cousins) for $5. It was the most expensive one that they had and it would probably cost much more in the US.

Questions:
On trips how long does it take for a routine to become established?
When you know something will happen, even if you don't particularly like it, can you better accept it?
On trips do pleasant surprises just seem to happen?

July 3, 2004

Arrival

Somehow I survive the all night ride. A man, he turns out to be one of the bus drivers, is sleeping in the aisle floor on a mat so that on our one stop in the night it is difficult to exit the bus. The nerves in my rear have an attack of cramps in the early hours of the morning, but miraculously, the pain later goes away. It gets light at 5:30 am, but it takes to 11 am to get to Hanoi. I've been on the bus with only one break for 13 hours. Maybe I should have traveled by rail after all.

In Hanoi a young Vietnamese man on the bus who earlier had wanted to practice his English with me is going home which is in the same direction as Go Dau but further. He helps me get to the correct city bus, which takes us to the correct out of town bus station. At the bus station within minutes a bus leaves for his home. It takes about two hours to get to Go Dau, which is half way to his house. The bus drops me on the side of a two lane, divided highway that runs North of Go Dau.

I anticipate that I will have to deal with a motorcycle driver to take me to my address in Go Dau so I ask my guide while still underway approximately how much the ride should cost and learn it should be from 6000 to 7000 dong (or 50 cents). I bargain with the motorcycle driver and reduce his asking price from 10000 to 7000 and we are off. I have shown my driver the address, 46 Ngo Quyen Street, written on a slip of paper and we arrive near that address. But, my driver wants to take me to a Vietnamese Ministry building at number 50. After all, in his mind that's where all tourists go. He cannot believe that I'm going to a private home although the address is clearly affixed to the building. I pay him and break away from his confusion and enter my confusion. Number 46 is not exactly a private home; it's a shop (clothing store or restaurant?). Also, it's early afternoon and no one is on the street and, when I enter the shop, no one is awake. I find out later that I have arrived during the siesta time of day when most everyone takes a nap.

I go further into the room calling out my host, Thang's, name but get no response. Finally, a woman appears with a smile. And then, as if by magic Thang comes in through the font door that I just entered. I get a much-needed shower. I find out that Thang's father built the house for $15,000 with the agreement that one room would remain unoccupied and reserved for Thang's family. The house was build three years ago and since that time its location has become a major commercial location. The value of the property has quadrupled. Besides Thang?s family which occupies one room, two families, both part of the Nguyen clan, occupy two other rooms in the house. I have included a diagram of the house on one of my pages.

After I shower Thang and some of his cousins immediately take me a few streets away by motor cycle to buy some slippers. I have only one choice because of my large foot size. At the time I have no idea about the importance of slippers in Vietnamese culture. I become sharply aware at the end of my stay in Go Dau when I realize that I have worn no other foot ware for three weeks. In fact, when I leave it is difficult for my hosts to remember where they have stored my tennis shoes.

After buying slippers we head for the weight lifting club located in an enormous hall on the top floor of the main market building. Thang has prepared in advance to put his male cousins in line by working out intensively at home in the US and it shows. After lifting weights (Thang should have prepared me for this) we go to his aunt Van(1) who owns a jewelry store and we have our supper. And then back home. Thang occupies his family's room where his male and female cousins hang out and sleep over night. I occupy another room by myself. We talk a bit and then I get some much-needed rest.

Question:
On trips do strangers assume things about you that are not true.
When you reach your destination after a long trip does it seem like you have reached home?
[Edit by="rwalcott on Sep 9, 8:31:47 PM"][/Edit]

July 5.doc

Learning to Eat All Over Again

The radio sounds off at 5 am in my room. I work on my notes and realize that I'm missing a date. One day melts into the next so easily and everyday facts become easily intermingled and confused. The origin of the problem turns out to be Thang. It was just his teasing that had me confused. It actually is Monday the 5th after all and I have not skipped a day. Thang has been up until 5 am talking and now his head hurts. We nap a while in the morning. In the late morning Thang asks me if I want my hair washed. His cousin, Tran Anh, daughter of aunt Nga(3), wants to wash Thang's and my hair. We both had our hair cut yesterday. Off we go on motor scooters to the beauty shop of Thang's youngest uncle, Hoan(13). The hair wash turns out to be much more. It includes a facial (defoliation and massage). Since I am not used to such things the whole thing seems extremely decadent and strange. I slowly give in to the flow of events and feelings and the experience transforms itself into something very stimulating, relaxing, and wonderful.

Thang suggests that we give his cousin 20,000 each for spending money. I give him the money to give to her because he says it is hard to give gratuities to his family members. (If it is hard for him it would be nearly impossible for me.)

We go off to lunch at an aunt's house and back home to rest. I lay around trying to read John Grisham's, the Client, but keep falling asleep-not because the book is dull-but because I'm feeling dull. In the afternoon we are supposed to go shopping for towels and shirts for me. I brought no towels with me and the one that I am using that belongs to someone else is beginning to smell and needs washing. Clearly, I need my own towel and a spare. Also, the old t-shirts with various labels advertising Gelson's Market and Purina Dog Food are less than elegant. They do not represent me very favorably as part of the family I am staying with.

After lying around and visiting in the afternoon we go lift weights. It?s about 5:30 and the sun is down-my favorite time of the evening. From the roof of the market just outside the gym the pattern of the water hyacinth on the cannel has changed from that of the previous day. Down below people are flying kites in the square. All Thang's cousins are working hard in the gym to look more like him. Since Thang is huge, it will be difficult, if not impossible for them to catch up.

I become increasingly concerned about how my body has acquired an unnecessary and unbecoming fat tire in the stomach area. I had planned to do something about it in March and did not. Now I must pay the piper. Maybe this will inspire me to take some action in the future. I've made this resolve before!

Thang notes that the common first questions the Vietnamese ask some new acquaintance is his or her age, weight and height. I would not have guessed that weight and height, especially height, would be of any significance. But, I note that Thang's cousins are comparing their height to mine, and Thang makes a passing (fleeting) comment about his height. Five foot four is on the short side even for a Vietnamese. It is an inspiration for me. You cannot get taller, but you can get thinner.

We return to have dinner with Thang's uncle Tu(12). It's nice sitting on the floor but at times I do not know where to put my long legs. Also, it's hard for me to sit cross-legged and still be able to reach the dishes with my chopsticks. I later realize that it is my large stomach that does not allow me to bend foreword easily. Again, a little more inspiration for me to thin down.

Thang instructs me about the two stage structure of Vietnamese meals-first comes all the dishes which are sampled for themselves unmixed with rice. Rice comes at the end of the meal. For example, at the goat meal fried rice was served at the end. Unfortunately, there was so much to eat before the rice arrived that I could barely consume any of it. Then I think back to the Monday lunch at Thang's aunts house where the meal included French bread at the beginning. I thought that the bread was a substitute for rice. Wrong again! The rice came at the end when I was absolute full of bread. I could tell that it was obligatory to eat the rice. In fact Thang's aunt yelled at him when he hesitated.

This time I plan ahead and do not have to stuff the rice down. There are still worried looks around the table indicating that I am an insufficient eater. I think at the time that Thang sooths the waters on this account, but I am not sure. I find out later that this is in fact the case. He has told everyone not to bother me too much about my eating habits.

After dinner we head for the uncle Hoan's(13) for a gathering, but there is a miscalculation and he and his family are not at home. So we head to the uncle Hao?s(6) and talk. Instead of karaoke Thang and all look at photo albums. Some of the photos are incased in plastic. At 10:30 Thang notices that I am dropping off to sleep so we head home. Our group is Thang, Young(daughter of uncle Tu(12)), Manh (son of uncle Cuong(8)) and Manh's sister, Hang, who just arrived from out of town. Thang is very playful with the girls and they show him a good deal of affection. Thang says we will swim in the morning at 5:30 and I counter that he will be up all night talking and not get up for swimming.

Questions;
What questions do new acquaintances ask you when you first meet?
How would you feel if you had to learn how to eat all over again?

July 7.doc

Survival Eating

I wake up at 5:30 and read until 6:30. I guess there is no swimming today. In Thang's room all are asleep and I go for a walk on Ngo Quyen Street turning left out the front door. This street leads to the railroad track. The Y intersection halfway down leads to the train station. I find a shop on the side street for chao or xhao (rice porridge). My slippers have bindings on the edge that are wearing holes in both my feet. I stop in a shop and buy Band-Aids and cover both sensitive areas. It helps ease the pain a bit.

People are looking at me, but not being obnoxious about it. I notice the looks more when I am alone. I'm definitely more shy and paranoid out of the group on my own. Friends' protection is very comforting.

At 8:50 Thang has taken a shower and returned to nap along with his cousins. He is having a very restful vacation. He enjoys the food more in Vietnam because of the variety of food and seasonings available and also because he moves between seven families at 6 different address for dinner.

Because everyone is still sleeping, I head to Giang's house to see about English and Vietnamese lessons. I figure it might be helpful to Giang if I work on her English pronunciation. It's probably hard to find a native English speaker in town. I really enjoy the challenge of Vietnamese-just the whole sound system in itself is so different from what I am used to. She is home and we work together for a while. Thang and the gang come by and are heading for breakfast. I have already eaten, but I tag along. They agree on a nearby place for fish soup. I have green tea. I come to realize that the principal choice for the group's breakfast is either the eggs and French bread place or the fish soup place. After eating all disperse and I return to Giang's house for more language study.

It's getting near lunch time and I begin to notice a new problem. I am not the least bit hungry. The meal is absolutely my favorite-two kinds of fish and meatballs. The fish sauces (two kinds) are extremely tasty. Once I start eating I eat.

After lunch we return home for a nap. Thang's room is full of people and I retreat to my isolated room. I try to sleep, but when sleep will not come I read and study Vietnamese. Pronouncing the new sounds of Vietnamese is hard to get right by myself.

In the late afternoon the group heads for the gym. I realize that we have arrived at the gym earlier than usual. On the floor beneath the gym all the sewing machine operators are still at work. I feel my strained shoulder of the previous day is better and I?m ready to try the bench press again. But, I try and manage to make the shoulder hurt even worse. My damn old body is going to prevent me from working out and keeping up with the group. I tell myself to slow down and be patient. I have let myself get out of shape for four years and it will take some time to get back into the groove. Nevertheless, momentarily I allow myself to slip into a terrible mood, but get out of it when Thang suggests some stretching exercises. They ease the pain in my shoulder. Thang reminds me that I should go slowly. A friend of his that lifted weights with him strained and damaged his shoulder to a point that it required an operation to repair the damage. Ok. And I slow down.

We finish at the gym and ride home, but there is no time to shower or change shirts. We have to immediately go to dinner at Huyen's house, the oldest cousin of the Hguyen clan and son of aunt Van(1). I must put on a smelly dirty shirt from weight lifting so I'm really embarrassed. I feel a bit out of the loop. Once at the destination, I don't understand the reason for the rush because I am asked to sit down in front of the television and wait. I think that others need time to arrive. Also, I think that our meal is being "assembled". Parts of it are coming from different locations outside of the house. Again I am anxious because I have absolutely no apatite.

Dinner starts with duck liver and coagulated duck blood. As the honored guest I am served first and the host fills my bowel with the above. I call on Thang's help and the amount is reduced somewhat. Dinner is noodles for the staple, duck that is delicious, soup and greens. I manage to eat a sufficient amount of food, but I just do it mechanically, not from a real desire to eat. I'm eating because I know that the family expects me to eat.

I begin to try a new technique for meal survival. I carefully watch what Thang is taking and take the same thing and in the same quantity. Then I eat it at the same speed he does. Since he is talking all the time and I am not this significantly slows down the pace of my eating. I am eating slower and therefore much less. As Thang finishes each helping I finish and move on to the next. I notice that from time to time Thang and the others put down their bowels and take a rest from eating. And this is where my plan fails. The minute I put down my bowel like others are doing, a fuss is made about it and people ask me to start eating again. Is this because I am the honored guest? At this point I feel that others make eating more difficult.

After diner we return home and I head for Giang's for more lessons. She reads from Grisham and I learn more Vietnamese. Thang comes by and the gang is going to the lake to cool off and have drinks. For the first time I say "no" (It feels very weird to say "no") and Giang and I continue to study. I later regret that I made this decision because Giang and I get done with our studies, but we cannot return home because Thang and all have not returned, they have the key, and the door is locked. But soon the group returns and we head home. But no! Thang decides to return to Giang's. Giang's family is in the process of going to bed, but we wake everyone up and sit around and talk some more. They keep asking me if I am tired, but I am not. In fact, I feel kind of tense and awake. The "awake" that I feel is a kind of a weird, nervous kind of awake.

Finally, when the conversation is almost ready to close (why didn't I just wait until it did?) I really make an ass of myself by blurting out an emotional complaint about not being left to my own devises at meals, being treated like a baby by having my bowel filled by others, by having metal chop sticks replaced with wood ones because they are easier to hold (was I really so clumsy using the aluminum ones?). Why all the fuss over me?

Thang calmly explains that I am the guest and it is engrained in his relatives and in all Vietnamese to treat guests in a certain way. I answer with something stupid like, "But, I'm not a guest, I'm with you." Dahhhhhh! I need to get oxygen to my brain!!!

Thang continues by explaining that four years ago, when he came to Vietnam for the first time since he left at age four, his father accompanied him. His father at that time really got very angry with the whole family for treating him like an honored guest. Evidently he yelled at them and made some of the women cry. Thang had to speak with his father about it because it caused the family to get really upset. Thang said that he has been speaking to everyone about not overdoing it with me. And then I begin to feel like the ugly American. Here I am being admitted into a world few travelers see and I'm complaining. I am given everything, food lodging, friendship, and I complain. Even behind the scenes Thang has been fending for me. I am acting like a spoiled brat. Just a whining selfish little baby. Have I forgotten any social skills that I may have possessed?

Thang mentions the old man we met this morning (the one with white hair like mine). He was expecting to go to the "bride-give-away" at 8 am and it turned out to be at 8 pm. Thang said the old mad got so angry. (Is he trying to tell me something?) I asked Thang what a Vietnamese wedding is like and he says that he doesn't know because he is not part of the Vietnamese community in San Leandro. He just has his mother's side of the family surrounding him and that is all. I get a new view of Thang. He is quite connected with San Leandro community life at large and forging a new identity within it.

I was thinking later about why Thang's father got so upset with the special guest treatment his brothers and sisters were giving him. I think the Nguyen clan sees itself as a closely nit, cooperative group. Thang's father, Hung(2) feels that he ranks high among the Nguyen clan. If you treat someone in a special way you are in a way isolating him or her from that group. You are not cooperating. You are doing something else. Perhaps he felt that his brothers and sisters were treating him like an outsider and he resented it.

Questions:

Do you sometimes get angry at things that happen to you?
How do you express your anger?
Later, when you think it over, do you like the way you expressed yourself?

July 9.doc

Visiting Uncle Cuong(8)

It is the custom of Thang to visit most of his uncles that live in town almost every day. This is greatly appreciated by his family and makes him a very popular. There is one uncle, however, who lives half a day's bus ride to the south of Hanoi near Tranh Hoa. He has two children and they attend school near Hanoi. The son, Manh, lives in town, stays in Thang's house and eats with Thang and me every day. The daughter. Hang, is on vacation from school and is in town for a visit. Now it is time for her to return home and to get ready for school. Thang decides that we will accompany her home, bring her brother along and visit his uncle Cuong(8). The uncle's home is near the ocean and maybe a trip to the beach will be included.

The bus trip to Thanh Hoa leaves early in the morning. We first ride by motorcycle to the main Go Dau road on the edge of town. I'm told that a bus will come along to take us to our destination. It's drizzling and cool. This sounds miserable, but it, in fact, is not a disadvantage. We are lucky. On a bright sunny day the ride would be very hot and stuffy.

I have waited on the side of the road, on edges of towns, or in the middle of nowhere in many different places during my many years of travel. I think about the strength of my faith that a bus will really come by going in my direction and that it will actually stop of me. I remember that the trick is to get three people to agree that the bus will come, and to start waiting for the bus very early in the morning. The bus in fact does appear some minutes later, not full to over flowing and we all get seats. Later the bus will fill up and plastic stools will be put in the aisle for new passengers.

Thang and I sit together and he talks about the oldest aunt in the family, aunt Van(1) and of her dream. The dream told her that the clan should visit the original ancestrial village of the Nguyens and honor the gravesites of their parents, or Thang's grandparents. Earlier, before I arrived, Thang participated in this event with the rest of his family. He stood in for his father. He had anticipated a solemn affair, but it turned out to be fun. I talk about grave visiting in Poland on All Saints Day that is less a solemn occasion and more a community outing. Then Thang asks me if I visit the graves of my ancestors. I have to admit that I have not visited the grave of my favorite great aunt or my grandfather who meant a lot to me when I was young. I sometimes complain about not having any relations. I think to myself that I have not even done the most with what little I have. Thang says that his father is thinking about being cremated and buried in his ancestral village. It's not a sure thing, but he is thinking about it. I guess that Thang is thinking about it too.

We arrive at our destination, which is a store located about an hours drive north of Thran Hoa,. There is a place for the public to eat, drink and buy small household items in front and living quarters for the family in back. A somewhat friendly part police dog guards the store. Sometimes she is not friendly. The family comments that she has bitten several people.

First water and soymilk is served. Then we have our lunch of duck, rice, greens, and soup, all served on the floor. After lunch it?s time for a shower and a nap. I get my own isolated room while all others are in social groups of one sort or another. I am use to and not use to this arrangement. Actually, I find it a bit sad.

We get up and go by scooter to an Internet shop. We are in a small town, but surprisingly the connection is very fast. Bird hunting is scheduled for the afternoon. We will use bee bee air guns to shoot at sparrows. But, in the end it is called off because Thang?s uncle has some objection. The substance of the objection is never made clear to me. We return for an evening meal of squid (very good squid), greens, rice, and duck. The duck at lunch was very tough, but this one is tinder. After dinner the family is supposed to visit the mother of the uncle?s wife at her village home outside of town. But, this trip is called off as well.

We begin the evening by watching videos of fight scenes lifted from various action films. Then we switch to video karaoke with Manh doing all the singing (and he is quit good at it). Since the words flash on the screen I talk along under my breath to practice Vietnamese pronunciation. Then we watch part of a Vietnamese series story about a family who is in great debt. Thang notices that the movie seems to move at a very slow pace due to the lack of music underlying the action. I agree. There are some spots of singing and music. But, the predominant Vietnamese style in this film includes many shoots of very lengthy close-ups of actor's faces. The camera holds the face immobile filling the screen as an emotional moment or two slowly crosses the actor's face. This technique is used over and over again. Yes, the action is very, very slow moving.

When the Vietnamese film concludes we turn to a Chinese action film. The contrast with the Vietnamese story is wonderful. The hero puts 2 fingers together and magic electrical rays paralyze and repulse the enemy. Actors fly through the air to avoid danger. Chinese is faintly heard in the background and all is translated into Vietnamese by only one woman's voice. There is absolutely not attempt to lip sink. I suggest that they could have at least two readers, male and female, to read for the male and female characters since listeners expect to hear a low, or a high-pitched voice. It wouldn't cost that much more. On second thought, I'm wrong. It would cost at least twice as much.

It has been a long day of travel and visiting new places. I think all of us have had enough of television and the whole group calls it a night.

Questions:

When you change locations on a trip do you also change your routine?
Do you watch foreign language films?
How you know what the actors are saying?