Sticky Rice

Gentle People

I am on the sea heading to Yokohama, Japan after spending two days in Kobe. This has been literally the first day off I have had since I started in August. Usually I have meetings, working on a project, etc., but today I woke up at 9:45am and spent the day eating, enjoying my friends, playing Apples to Apples, running 2.5 miles, and generally having a great time. It has been peaceful on the ship, only about 200 participants on board. Few people pass by, the gym was empty, and we all fit in one room in only one dining hall. For dinner, people dressed up, I put on my cherry red dress made of sari material I bought in Malaysia and had made in Viet Nam, and my black heels. The crew ran around, busy and proud to show off their skills. At the end of the dining service, there was a rush of cheers and applause, and the crew beamed with pride. I spent the dinner with Becca and Brooke form the Field office, Nikki B (LLC), and Garrett (Film Editor), telling and trying to solve riddles. Like:

A man is driving in the desert and he passes a bar. He drives further, then turns around and heads back to the bar. He asks the bartender for a glass of water, the bartender pulls a gun on him, and he says “thanks” and leaves. What happened? (email/post comments if you know the answer)

Now I’m sitting in my room watching Oprah 20 year celebration DVD. It’s great. Usually we have movies about the countries we are going to visit, and for some reason they are always about war, poverty, women in brothels or being beat. Generally, they’re pretty much of a downer. So, Oprah is so happy and positive, it’s a nice distraction from the horribleness.

I recognize that I’m a bit tardy with my posts, but I have had two days between ports with a lot of work in between. But I write with great alacrity so that I do not forget the incredible time in Viet Nam. The night before we ported in Ho Chi Mihn (which everyone who lives there calls Saigon) we had a going away party for Elysia, Nate (the A/V guy’s partner) who was leaving us in Viet Nam. There were festivities, dancing, and spirits. I didn’t not wake up very early the next day I usually do. We were porting very late in Saigon, so instead of having a full breakfast, we had a small continental breakfast and a brunch. I woke up and peered out the window. The usual blue water was a murky brown, and the riverbank was green and close to the ship. Unlike most ports where we pulled into a harbor from the sea, here we sailed up the river to Saigon. We arrived around 1pm and disembarked pretty quickly. As usual, I was in my cabin trying to nap when over the loud speaker the Voice says: “will the LLCs please come to the Faculty/Staff Lounge to distribute passport.” My nap is foiled again!

Nikki, Brooke C., Curtis, and I headed into town to walk around. Saigon was hot and humid, so instead of walking a few kilometers into town, we took the free shuttle into town and were dropped off in front of the Rex Hotel. We were told, that traffic in Saigon was a thing to behold. There were scooters everywhere and lights were a suggestion, lines where a distraction, and sidewalks were another area to drive. To cross the street you look for an opening (cars and motorcycles do not stop) and then walk slowly across the street. If you stop, you are more likely to be hit. You walk slowly and the vehicles swerve to avoid you. It was scary, but I trusted that I would be okay, and followed the locals.

As in all countries, I was excited to eat Vietnamese food. Brooke, the trip leader yet again, found us the Viet Nam House. It was quiet and beautiful, and the service was fast and attentive. We had spring rolls to start, and then I had a beautiful bowl of beef pho. For those of you who have not had pho (Cristobal, I thought about you the whole time!), it’s a soup of beef broth, thick noodles, and pieces of cooked steak. I squeezed in limejuice, tore up basil leaves, and tossed in bean sprouts and chile. I finished every last drop. As a perfect ending, I had fried banana and chocolate ice cream. Could anything be better?

We decided to look for tailors to have dresses and other clothing made. I took sari material that I had bought on sale in Malaysia and one of my favorite dresses to use it as a pattern. I was fitted and happy to get something made. We walked around some more, stopping at stores and picking up knick-knacks. Time was escaping us, so we hustled over to the night market. Fake bags and clothes filled each stand. But more interestingly were the cable lines above us. Unlike in the U.S. where we put most of our lines underground to hide them, in Viet Nam they are overhead. They wrap the line poles in coils and coils of lines. It is called Saigon Spaghetti. I found it all over Viet Nam.

With less than shopping and eating under our belts, we headed over to Lemon Grass for dinner. I again had pho and fried banana. Duh. I ate that probably at every meal. It was delicious. Amy’s brother Jay was there and a new person entered our happy party.

As is typical of my times in port, I did not get enough sleep and was subsequently exhausted. I reread a lot of my personal journal entries and they usually start with: “so I’m exhausted and don’t know how much I can write.” Pretty pathetic, but true. As usual, I was up at 4:15am for my 4:30am departure. Eleven students and I were heading to Ha Noi in the North of Veit Nam (Saigon is in the south) and to a village, Mau Chau, west of Viet Nam. It was a small group, and I knew that it was going to be great. I had been up the night before making copies of sudoku and crossword puzzles for the students, because we were leaving at 5am and arriving at the village at 5:30pm. It was going to be a long ride. I passed out in the plane, and arrived in Ha Noi. It was pouring rain. I mean torrential.

We were hustled onto a small bus with our tour guide, Yang. Our driver was a woman (a very big thing in these parts) and her husband was her helper. He sat on a little stool, paid for the tolls, and kept her company. They were a cute group. Yang tried to tell us about our trip, but the entire bus, except me fell asleep. We drove through Ha Noi, and the streets were flooded with brown river water hitting the sidewalks. The rain continued for the next 3 hours. We passed by rice, corn, and sugar cane fields. It was black sugar cane, which you sucked with your mouth. The rice paddies were swollen in the water. And the mountains were imposing and lush and green. It was a sight to be seen. We stopped for a quick food break. The bus driver and her husband stared at the boxed lunch we had given them: a salami sandwich, rolled up roast beef, Oreos, chocolate cake, and a boiled egg. They ate the boiled egg. After a fun time with the toilet, ah squatters, we head on to the village.

We passed stands of oranges (that are green instead of orange) and bananas. The streets began to give way, with the asphalt not making it to the sidewalks, which sometimes did not exist. Children and bikes played in the street, and people sat in their porches on their haunches (try it, it’s REALLY hard). It’s interesting to see scaffolding made of bamboo (this was common in India, Malaysia, and in China).

We went up one overpass, and the mountains turned from green to a slate grey. It was as if a pall was cast on us. We stopped at a market on top of the pass to purchase food from the Hmong people. There were pumpkins, orchids, a cilantro/parsley herb, lettuces, etc. It all looked so good. They roasted corn over burning coal. The smell was intoxicating

We continued on the way to the village and broke off from the main road. The village was a preserved village of the White Thai tribe. The White Thai are related to the people of Thailand, but unlike the people in Thailand, they stayed in Viet Nam and did not continue the journey to Thailand. The Viet people are actually also not from Viet Nam, but rather South China. You may be wondering why I spell the country Viet Nam; it is because that is how they spell it. Viet is for the Viet people, and Nam means “man”.

The village was active with Thai people, who spoke no English and little Vietnamese. But knowing the tourists would like to “experience” a small village in Viet Nam, it had lost some of its authenticity. But the people had not lost their kindness, gentleness, or their simple life. We clambered up to the second floor of the long house (the name for the shape of the house). The house is built on stilts, and the “dining room”, kitchen, and loom were downstairs and open, while the bedrooms were upstairs. In the past, the ground floor was where the animals were kept, but due to hygiene, that has since changed. It was quiet and peaceful. Chickens and roosters ran around in the street. After resting and cleaning up, we headed out for a walk in the rice paddies. It rained lightly. The views were majestic. The hills were misted over and the land and hills were verdant. We walked through narrow walkways between paddy fields. Yang caught a locust to show us it. He told us that on the paddies we needed to make sure we did not get lost, that we had to be like “sticky rice”. Giant butterflies glided by us. As we ended the walk, the walkways became less secure and I slipped and my leg fell knee deep into the rice paddy. Good thing my pants are quick drying.

Dinner was fantastic, with rice, bright greens, pork, chicken, and other delicious dishes. It rained had rained pretty steadily all day and there was no sign of stopping. In our long bedroom, we had a performance. We moved our mats out of the way, and tribal teenagers in beautiful costumes came and performed. We heard them coming, their loud drums leading the way. They danced with fans, fake trees and swords. At the end they brought out bamboo sticks to dance with and had us join them. My students laughed at my lack of coordination. After the long and tiring day we retired to our mats and zipped up in our mosquito nets.

The next morning we took another walk around the village and into the bigger city. The streets crumbled at the ends and there were no sidewalks. Water buffalo meandered on the streets, their horns pointing backward (unlike cattle) and their mouths’ filled with only one row of teeth, the top. The food market was set up in small winding paths between buildings. Fruit, vegetables, and prepared foods filled the stands. In tubs sat frogs, apparently their back legs broken so that they could not escape. We returned to a wonderful lunch and hopped on the bus for the long drive back to Ha Noi.

As we made our way over two passes, the rain started up again in earnest. And it did not stop, rather the speed and amount increased as we closed in on Ha Noi. When we entered the vicinity of Ha Noi we stopped. Cars and motorcycles were parked on the side of the street. The main street into Ha Noi was flooded. After consultation on the phone and with people on the street, Yang made an executive decision: we were to grab our things and wade through the river. On the other side, a bus would meet us to escort us to the hotel and dinner. At first I thought has joking, but when we saw that he was clearly not, a student in the back of the bus asked, “How high is the water?” Yang indicated that it was mid-thigh high. Someone else then asked Yang how far we had to walk. He said about 2 to 3 kilometers.

I slung my backpack and messenger bag on, and zipped up my raincoat. I changed into my flip-flops and rolled up pants to above my knee (still the trusty quick drying pants). We stepped out of the bus and into the steady rain and began our journey. Lots of people were walking and pushing their bikes. At first it was ankle deep. No problem. But after about 10 minutes the water began rising, and then it was really mid-thigh. And then hip high. My students worried about me in the rising water since I’m short. We would yell out “sticky rice!” to make sure that we were all together. “Sticky rice” became our phrase. Our travel in the water was epic. No student complained and we all saw it as an adventure. We passed military trucks, tourists being pushed in carts, and a very tall German man in a pink shirt who decided to take his pants off to keep them dry. The water started to fall and we thought it was over. The German had put his pants back on. But alas, we entered again into the hip-deep water. The water moved gently and was a muddy brown. We walked in the water for 2 hours. And it was night when we were picked up at an auto body shop. The owner put out stools for us and poured us tea. This is quite possibly the best day of my life. This was a real cultural experience and we were with the Vietnamese. But even though it was great for us, almost 50 people lost their lives because of the flooding. The little annoyance for us was heartbreaking for others.

After checking into the hotel we headed to dinner at a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant. I sat with wonderful women, Kassandra, Michelle, Lauren, Jessica, and Andrea and we laughed at the day. First we started off waking up in a village in Northern Viet Nam, waded through a flood, and were now having a five-course meal. It was surreal. And I of course had my trusty quick-drying pants on.

After dinner we went to see a water puppet show. Water puppets are like regular puppets, but the stage is submerged in water, and bamboo sticks that are under the water move the puppets. A monk who used the submerged rice paddies as his inspiration created the water puppet genre. Heather is a particular fan of it ;). A prophet turtle, dancing cranes, a funeral procession and more made up the show. We returned to the hotel, and Michelle and I watched Harry Potter the Order of the Phoenix.

In the morning we went and visited Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum and his long house. It’s very communist, but I imagine that Ho Chi Mihn would not like all the tourist, visitors, and pomp and circumstance that his grave and home are given. We then headed to the “Ha Noi Hilton”, the infamous jail that once held Sen. John McCain. In the late 19th century and early 20th century it was a prison that held Vietnamese that fought the occupation of France. Guillotines were used on rebels. In one cell they showed where prisoners were held, their ankles in restrains laying on their backs at an angle so that the blood would rush to their heads. It is disgusting what we will do to hurt other humans. How can any of us be so cruel and despicable? I had to take breaks so that I would not start bawling. There was a room at the end of the tour that showed pictures of American captives. They were hanging Christmas ornaments and playing basketball. Pictures showed Sen. John McCain visiting his old cell. It looked oddly sweet. It was interesting to see how the museum had set up the French at being hurtful, yet their sins were not displayed. At the War Remnants Museum in Saigon, they called out the Americans on the horrors that we inflicted on their country. But as it is in most countries, they show themselves as heroic and not as the perpetrators of evil and pain.

The rest of the afternoon was on our own, and Michelle, Lauren, Andrea, Heather, and Jessica specifically asked me to join them for lunch. Students usually run away from staff, especially the LLCs, but these ladies made me feel so welcomes. I enjoyed yet another bowl of pho and chocolate cake. We looked at incredible art, I only with I had the money to afford. And then looked for knick-knacks until we piled on the bus to come back to Saigon.

My last day in Saigon, I chose to spend on my own. I took the shuttle into town and had lunch at the smaller Lemon Grass restaurant. Jonah, a student from the Election’s Committee, walked in alone and joined me on my last bowl of pho. Jonah attends Pitt and is easily one of my favorite students on the ship. I headed over to pick up my dress (that to make a few alterations) and then walked around the city for a bit. I headed to the big market where I was overwhelmed by the amount of things and people yelling at me to buy stuff. So, I headed off to the post office, which is this gorgeous brick building with a colonial style inside. I walked back to pick up my dress and to have some hot chocolate and write post cards. I caught view of Brooke (field office) who was waiting for Brittany (the photographer). We tried to take the elevator to the top floor of the tallest building in Saigon but were denied. So instead we went to the Continental Hotel to toast Brooke’s dad who had spent many of night there during the war.

I hurried back to the ship to work. The last shuttle was to leave at 8:30pm. What I don’t get, is how people (students, staff, and faculty) don’t realize that they really need to get back early. So, the shuttle was blamed for arriving at 9pm, which meant everyone was getting dock time. This was the first port where LOTS of people were late, including faculty and staff. And there were some angry folks. Usually we start work about an hour and a half before on ship time to about a half hour before. This time we worked about an hour and a half after on ship time. It was a big cluster. But everyone made it on, and we were now headed to Hong Kong.

Thank you if you made it this far, I know that I have written a lot, but Viet Nam was wonderful. Like in all countries, I did not spend nearly the time I would want to spend. It was an incredible time.