Creative cooking.

For the past few weeks, my usual lunch provider, my counterpart's wife, Vivian, has been out of town. Normally, she doesn't get to go anywhere much because she's always super busy with every possible household chores and then some. (My counterpart, Peter doesn't help much either. Wither her being gone, there were left two people who had to cook to feed themselves. I can't really speak for Peter, but I was quite ready for the challenge of not starving without her. It's a challenge because I opted to not buy a gas stove when I first came to site. There were several reasons behind this. - I wanted to eat Ghanaian food cooked by Ghanians. - The sparse food produces in Ghana did not inspire any culinary inclination in me, I simply didn't know what I would of could make. ( I hate/don't know how to cook beans, eggplants, okra...) - And figuring how to lug a gas cylinder and stove top back to site was the furthest idea from fun, and then having to commit to the task of refilling the gas cylinder every few months also did not appeal. So I bought a coal pot and called it a day. It was really my lucky break that Vivian loves to feed me and is an amazing cook. So for the last year and a half, I would buy the monthly food products, and she would prepare lunch for me everyday. During training at homestay, my host sister provided me with considerable amount of Ghanaian food, but Vivian's cooking allowed me to learn more about all the local cuisines made with local ingredients -- eating soup made from bush leaves, flowers, ect... Otherwise, I probably would either slowly desiccate or get MSG poisoning from overloading on ramen, or just have terrible acne. With that system in place, I had a routine. Regardless of what I was doing, lunch is serve at around noon or 1pm, and I would never be hungry afterward. Lunch is my favorite meal in Ghana because Vivian would feed me to the point that I can't walk straight or have to stand slightly bend forward. She always wants to make up for my lackluster breakfast (popcorns) and dinner (nothing). It used to take me 45 minutes to light the coal pot and the idea of making a meal died with every dead match mounting in piles. Slowly, I started to get better at lighting the coal pot, and would be able to make hot water for tea without losing the entire morning trying. That allowed me to sporadically cook now and then -- still just ramen though, nothing serious. But with Vivian gone, I had to step it up. I stocked up on enough veggies that would not rot for 4-5 days without a fridge and other miscellaneous carby things that I generally dislike but still tolerate like bread and pasta. (Though I look forward to the day when I never have to eat bread ever again). Every morning, I made a fire, boiled water and cooked creative dishes from the 5 ingredients I have available. I managed to have soup, pasta salad, moringa omelette and only ate real ramen twice. Eggs were my main proteins but a PCV friend recently went to Germany and brought back some summer sausages, and I put some in every meal and they were delicious! Summer sausages, what a treat! It had been really fun cooking this way, pretending sometime that I was going camping somewhere in the wild, playing house by myself (I live alone afterall). Ghana has a lot of ingredient that I normally would not opt for back home, but my taste buds have changed over the course of times, and green peppers, bread, tomato sauce found their way into my bowl more often than I though. Probably due to hunger and limited options but I'll go ahead and call it improvement by circumstance. Maybe I can even put that on my resume... The year and a half spent watching Vivian cooks also allowed me to learn a lot about Ghanian cuisine and nutrition, which is good for me when talking about health and nutrition to other community members as a part of my job here. It has been strangely fitting, cooking for myself with a coal pot, to how I had imagined my Peace Corps service would be. Except that, I probably could not manage to do this while actually do other work at the same time. I had to constantly tending fire and cooking during the day time, and by the time I finish and want to rest, it's night and the day is gone. Eating Vivian's food is definitely more authentic, but I enjoyed the autonomy of cooking for myself a lot more than I thought. PCVs talk a lot about the lack of vegetables and fruits in meals, but I enjoyed the pleasures of greens in the form of moringa "the miracle tree", and shea oil (the very same ingredients that makes your lotion or anti-aging make up so expensive is actually used to fry my yam chips and other fried things here.) I think my eating habit is a lot better here than back home (no late night Denny's chicken wings and banana split run -- but I miss it so...) and I hope it sticks when I return in seven months. In the mean time, summer sausages is my latest and greatest cuisine crave. Feel free to send some my way. They don't have to be refridgeratd and is good with everything. What!? So Brilliant! Chau Ngo P.O Box 5736 Accra North, Ghana West Africa.

bad days

Bad days are bad. It's true. Regardless of where you are, no one like a bad day.

Bad days in Africa -- are terrible.

Sometime it's showing up to an event and no one is there. Sometime it's planning to leave for some where and no tro is there. Sometime it's riding on a tro and it's, all of a sudden, not going anywhere anymore. Sometime, it's sitting inside a tro with loud Ghanaian music/drama and you don't think you will ever make it to the end. Sometime, it's hearing a baby's insufferable scream and you wish you were listening to the shitty music/drama instead. Sometime, it's like you're somehow caught in your own drama and people are screaming at you and you wish they were never been born. Sometime, some assholes who should have never been born are touching you and screaming at you and all you can do is try not to punch them in the face.

Bad days are fucking terrible here.

It feels like an emotional assault. That a tidal waves had just hit and destroyed the barely held together fragile mental state that you have worked so hard to maintain. And no one is there to help you put it back together.

In Ghana, I am a white lady, a China, a Japan, a Korea, a woman -- an object of fascination and whatever the fuck. I am stared at, shouted at, grabbed at. I am constantly being harassed. Do you know what it's like walking down the street for even just half a block, having people calling you all kind of names that they think are appropriate for you, basing on your look alone. In America, it's racism, it's sexism, it's sexual harassment, it's ignorant, it's crude. Not here. And I can't get too angry. Just ignore them, they say. They are just playing, they say. I can't fight back. It's not culturally appropriate. They're really ribbed, they say.

Bad days are personal.

Some volunteers smile and joke back. Some volunteers give sass. Some volunteers are numb. I don't seem to have found a technique yet, and so I cry. To myself, to other people. Out of anger, and sadness, I cry because I can't do anything else. I cry because it feels as if I've lost the game. I cry because I've lost my cool and gave the the satisfaction of knowing that they have gotten to me. That they have broke me. I cry because  I feel broken.

Bad days are ugly.

I can feel a bit of myself rot away every time I walk away while still hearing the laughter and mockery behind me. A little more bitterness creeps up. A little more hate invades my heart. Misery is not without company. I can feel myself drowning anger, hatred and sub consequently, sadness. I see myself wishing that I was out of here. Maybe I should just give up. I hate these people, their country and their stupid self sabotage way of living and so-call culture -- the very barrier that keeps them from understanding me and my reason for being there. I am a loathsome monster of rage.

No words to soothe my pain, to calm my anger, to appease my sadness. I hate myself and all around me. I blame myself and all around me.

Bad days are seriously bad.

evacuation (vacation) recap

Well, this past 2 months has been a whirlwind.

Where do I begin so I don’t lose you in the end? Maybe we can go backward. Last Friday, our evacuation status was lifted, and all the volunteers in my region were green lighted to go back to our sites. About 39 days before that, we were emergency evacuated out of our homes (in the middle of the night, in my case) due to an incident that happened in the city.

Out of respect for my friends and the topic being so over-discussed among us here in Ghana in this past month, I’m not going to talk about what happened. (But I’m 100% that you can Google it.)

So long story short, we were assumed to be in a dangerous position, so Peace Corps pulled us out, and took us to sub offices where we spent the next month slumping around/twirling our thumbs waiting to go back.

I got a phone call at about noon that day, and it wasn’t until 11pm that I was picked up and carried on despite me rushing to pack in 2 hours thinking they were outside my door any minute. My poor counterpart and his wife waited up all night with me until I was picked up. The closest to any pair of Asian parents ever in Ghana.

In the beginning it was sort of cool. I mean, beside the whole we were in possible danger thing, evacuation was sort of like a mini-vacation. Got a nice ride to the office. Electricity. Internet. Food availability. An oven. Ceiling fans. And we weren’t even paying for any of it? Awesome.

stick and stone

A couple of Mondays ago, a primary student broke her wrist while doing a high jump. Though I arrived to the school just as this happened, there was no sense of urgency among the teachers who were around, so after they filled me in, I didn’t push on the subject, assuming that it has been taken care of properly. Then after about 20 mins of us sitting around our usual ‘faculty spot’ (under the mango tree), they started to have a serious discussion, and formally asked me to join. I had no idea what they were talking about, but as some started to switch to English during the discussion, it dawned on me that they were talking about the injured student.

It turned out, that the problem at hand hadn’t been taken care of at all. I found out that they simply just took the girl back to her parents’ house, and were now discussing the next step. I asked whether or not she received any medical treatment at all during this time, and the answer was, they took her to a local healer, and there was nothing he could do, which was why they took her to her parents. By this time, it would have been close to an hour since the girl injured herself—and had yet to received any proper care. Freaked out, I brought out my loud and rude self and urged that they should at least take her to the clinic, which is across the road from the school, a mere 30 feet away. Pretty sure I said something along the line of, “You are all teachers, not medical professionals, take her to the clinic! There is a nurse there!”

After another 5 mins of pondering, the group dispersed, and I am told that they would take her to the clinic. While they went to get her, I walked over the clinic since at this point, sitting idly under the mango tree lost its appeal. The teachers and the girl arrived shortly afterward, and she is about 12 years old. Her wrist was wrapped in an old t-shirt, and though she didn’t show it on her face, it was very obvious that the past hour has not been pleasant for her.

To my disappointment, the nurse didn’t look at her injury at all, rather, she gave her some medicine, and 2 shots, which I later found were pain killer. My irritation didn’t subside, so I urged them to take her to the hospital. Some more discussion in the local language went on, and the girl is picked back up on to the moto to leave the clinic. Since I wasn’t sure what they were talking about, the sight of them leaving gave hope that they were taking her to the hospital. However, I soon learned that it wasn’t true once the moto turned to go to the opposite direction.

Loud and rude again, I asked my Counter Part (CP) about what was going on. He told me that instead of the hospital, they were taking her to a bone setter in the next village. Another teacher, J, saw my disbelief, and reminded me that here in the village, not everyone has insurance or money to go to the hospital, so they go to local healers. I have never felt more useless in Ghana.

I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the mango tree, but I also didn’t know what else to do, so I just sat outside the clinic for a while. My CP left, but then came back and told me that J would take me to the bone setter. He wanted me to see what were going to happen.

1 month in. 23 to go.

If Peace Corps is a person, we would have been together for one whole month already. Alas, we are not two high school teenagers so there won’t be a movie date, so I’d just blog about it instead.

The past month has been a roller coaster of emotion.  Yes, that was very cliché, and I don’t regret it. There were tears and there were joy, but I woke up today (May 23^rd) completely positive that there is no where else I would rather be.

I’ve talked about my site, a little village in the Upper West Region, named Goli. It is about 4-5 hours away from the Burkina Faso border and positively 15 hours away from the nearest movie theater, on a good day. 

Since I’ve been here, I’ve done a lot of sitting.  Everywhere I go, stools/benches/chairs are placed under my ass without request. My legs would be tired from walking at the end of the day but my ass would be sore from sitting in the equivalent amount. Some other PCVs from my group are placed with partner NGOs, and though I am not sure how their schedule is like, I hear that it can be quiet busy sometime. As for us upper regions people, like the chicken roaming in front of our houses, we are free ranged.  That means we don’t really have a schedule and our days could be as idle or as casual as we want. Which is why it is so important to embrace small successes, when life just seems to  be passing you by meaninglessly while you haven’t done shit for the entire day, the little things in life start to look grand. And they keep you going.

My job as a Health Water and Sanitation (or at least  what I got out of training) is to guide my village to achieve a healthier living environment. And that include getting them to stop pooping in bushes and drinking gross water while making healthy life choices like wearing a condom.

I could be easy if people understand that certain of their behaviors need to change before they stop getting sick all the time. But Peace Corps isn’t ‘the easiest job you’d ever love’ (that was college) so it takes time for us to get them to that point. If you haven’t tried it, going number 2 or even number 1 in the bushes can be a very liberating experience. Old habits die hard, and some/most/the majority of the people in my village are very old.

Anyway, the one month at site has seen greats and grave. Most of the day, I sit in various places in the village and try to learn the local languages by listening to their conversation about me, and make an effort to remember their names. People know me know that I am very bad with names, and it is fortunate that most Ghanaians have English based name like Felicia and Emanuel, but add the Ghanaian accent and it’s a salad of some different sound.  Everyone is someone else’s brother or sister of mother or father because everyone in the village is in a big family so that also need processing and figuring out time.

Someday, it is extremely delightful to see grown men walking around town holding hands from the pinky (because even though homosexuality is illegal here, there is no limit to same sex interaction) or during high noon time, women would be bare chested, hanging low without a care (to the four lovely ladies who flashed me before I left, you got competition).

Other day (the entire duration of the 3^rd week at site) all I want to do is sit on my porch and read and try not to drown in my own sweat in the waves of loneliness of being the only foreigner in a 45 minutes radius by car. Or if one more person laughs at me after I’ve spoke Dagaare and greet them, I’d lose it and curse out their mothers.

Roller coaster of emotions. Didn’t I say it?

But I’ll say it again, there is not where else I would rather be. I signed up for this. Waited for it. Excited for it. And now it is all mine, and I’ve just begun. There are latrines to be build, malaria to b prevented, and talking condom mural to be painted – all in the next 23 months. It’ll be the longest relationship to date, but I’m in it to win it. 

Vietnam Recapping: Phu Quoc Island Part 1 (Super long post, you have been warned)

It is the Fourth of July, and this time last year, I was on my way back from Brazil. Today, I am staying inside trying to avoid the heat, sunshine and people. This weekend in the valley saw the temperature up to about 100+, this used to be a normal deal for me before college, but SD has spoiled me, and now, I do not go outside unless I absolutely have to or only when after the sun is down.

The three days weekend has been well spent so far, I think. I caught up on my sleep and all my shows. I got my first pay check from the job and spent it all on the same day on loan repayments and a new pair of glasses. Can't wait for two more weeks to get pay again.

Moving on, on to the recap.

April 18th-19th: Phu Quoc Island and Mekong Delta

A is where I was, and B is where the island is. Obviously... right?

The largest island in Vietnam locateing in the Gulf of Siam bordering Cambodia, Phu Quoc Island is only 50 minutes away by plane from HCM. It's famous for producing fish sauce, and stable in Vietnamese cuisine and pearls, a stable in rich house wives' wardrobes. 

As of now, Phu Quoc is still very much in the midst of development, it is not yet and hot spot for tourists and vacationers. There are only two ways of getting to Phu Quoc from the mainland, plane and boat. By boat, it takes about 2 hours on a "super speed" ferry. The price is 225,00 VND or approximately $11/$12. My 50 minutes flights was about 500,00 VND which is about $25. Anyone who wants to get into Phu Quoc has to go through Vietnam mainland first, though not for long, as an international airport is currently being build in Phu Quoc for easier access in the future. Once it's completed, travelers will no longer have to go through mainland VN to get through Phu Quoc, thus decreases the hassle of traveling by half while tourism revenue increases.

international airport in progress

Most of the island is still in its natural habitat, lots empty land and wild plants, but as my xe om (honda tax) driver/guide for the day told me, all these lands have been bought by big foreign investors companies to build golf courses and casino and resorts here. Soon enough, this place will be another Phuket or Singapore swamped with tourists looking for cheap get aways.

By this time of the trip, I have managed (thanks to my relative) to have a trusty honda taxi driver who would take me places when I give him a call. That saves me the trouble of having to bargain and get rip off every time I want to go somewhere. That morning, we left at 7am... I think (getting up early in the morning regardless of which hours all feel the same to me).

I guess he didn't have
anything else better to do

the closest to "forming a line"

airplanes

Only a handful of people, including myself were there waiting for our flights. Some were locals and a sprinkle or two of foreigners. There were three guys who spoke English, they were talking to a gentleman who seem to be a local but I later found out was a Vietnamese-American. I tried to trike up a conversation with those guys later, since after some weeks of just Vietnamese, I didn't want to complete forget all my English (it's possible, okay...), and seeing that they spoke absolutely no Vietnamese what so ever, I wanted to help. However, the guys didn't seem very much interested in talking to me at all, especially after they found out that I wasn't a local and from California. The Vietnamese-American gentleman, however, was very nice. He's  a frequent returnee who has some sort of a English school in the country and trying to teach English to the locals. He even gave me his business card in case I want to teach English in Vietnam and should contact him.

All of this was even before I got on the plane.

Only about 2/3 of the plane was full despite it being a weekend. I sat next to a seemingly proper business man who struck up a conversation with me. Before the plane even took flight, after finding out that I was traveling to Phu Quoc by myself, he suggested that we should trade phone numbers so that when we are in the island and he is done with his business, the two of us could grab some coffee together. Needless to say, that got uncomfortable real quick. I didn't really know how to refuse, so I gave him my number anyway, but ended the conversation at that. Once the seatbelt sign was off, I nonchalantly got up and moved to another empty row of seats and when the flight stopped, waited for him to get off first.

It wasn't anything that he did, but it was something in the way that the conversation went and ended up that I didn't feel comfortable with, and I didn't want to take any chances being so far away from any safety nests. The guy ended up calling me sometime later that day, I didn't pick up because I didn't hear my phone going off, but I listed him under "creepy airplane guy don't pick up" just for future reference.

Once I got off the airplane, I had a giant moment of "now what?". My planning only went as far as getting myself to the island, but I didn't plan anything else in term of hostels or transportation around. The nice Asian American guy was heading to a hotel and offered to get me a ride to the hotel so I can get a room there. Since my original plan for the trip was only to spend a day in the island and head back to the mainland later at night, I didn't want to do that. I wanted to find a ride out of the airport and check out some local sceneries.

A team of honda taxi/tour guides were outside the airport swamped over, and after a few seconds of contemplating, I agreed to a half island tour for about 400 VND, which is about $20. As the guide getting ready to get start, I joked "Please don't kidnap me and sell me to China". They didn't think it was that funny.

i wish i was a little...

Paler? Taller?

One of the reasons that people can tell that I am not from around here beside from the fact that I am definitely fatter than all the local girls is that I seem to enjoy being in the sun more than everyone else though fact is that I don't.

To be fair, I don't hate the sun, I only hate all the ridiculous tan lines after I'm outside. I mean, come on, a band-aid tan line? Who's down for that? SO if I'm gonna get a tan, I'm gonna go all out and wear as little clothes as possible (skank alert lol). Rolling up my sleeves and everything to avoid that farmer's tan while soaking in that vitamin D, which is pretty much what I do here in Saigon. And which is why I stand out because girls here pretty much cover themselves from head to toes when they are outside.

Underneath all that gears is my cute cousin

Porcelain white skins is seen as beautiful here because mahogany or deep dark brown tans are way too common here. On top of it being a tropical country, for centuries, people have been working as farmers in fruit orchard or rice paddies spending days in and days out under the sun, so the dark tan represents a life of laboring hardship. People who don't have this color are often rich or well off people who were fortunate enough to have enough to eat without ever have to spend times in the blazing sun.

I think that this association of pale skin = life of fortune is now ingrained in these people's mentality, and now in modern time, they have the ability to achieve it so they do. Locals wear all kind of protective gears to keep themselves from getting dark. I remember my mom used to wear a long pair of elbow gloves and a wide rimmed hat when she used to go outside, but that was ten years ago since the method today are way more extreme. Beside the mandatory helmet, people also wear face mask to avoid the dust, then girls would wear gloves on their hands, then thin socks or thick stocking on their feet and a hoodie with the hood up regardless of the style of the outfit because they can all be taken off once they reach their destination. It's pretty much their travel gears. Even girls who wear short-shorts still wear long over the knee/thigh-high beige color stockings so I guess sluts here don't get cold, but they get hot hah!

Guy in the far left admiring my awesome hand-behind-back picture taking skill, girl in the upper right corner is a ninja. Check out how men aren't donning the same ensemble as women

(Women) Ninjas on the street!

In addition, the tropical heat here could get so unbearable and the increasing awareness for skin cancer could also be reasons for which why people want to cover up. However, we don't see men following the same suit, and it doesn't explain for the abundance amount of commercial and infomercial on skin whitening products as well as having skin whitening chemical in almost every beauty products on the shelves. I recall on the top of my head seeing house hold brands in America such as Dove or Olay also having whitening ingredients in their products. Good thing I brought my own body wash and face wash.

Picture courtesy of onlyok.net. This blogger has a similar/interest discussion about this whitening trend.

Funny how this whole concept is opposite in America, where people prefer to have darker tone. And of course you wouldn't find products like this back in the states, as you wouldn't find something that promotes tanning here.

Not in this land

I have been asked several times "I thought you'd be paler since you're from America" or "How are you so dark and short living in America?" and would have to explain to people that tanned skin is a popular preference in the states, and being short is genetic, there's nothing I could do. Still, in additional to pale skin, people are also actively pursuing methods to get themselves taller. You can find milk commercials emphasizes on how their products will help kids grow taller or infomercials for shoes that add height while at the same time lengthen your legs.

For this trend, I don't get it, and I can't find any of these commercial on Youtube, so I'll just let Skee Lo take over while I go outside in my shorts.

the removal of 4 wisdom teeth is waiting for me back in the states

I totally saw that coming too.

Peace Corps info are in a few weeks ago, further dental works is needed, so that's what I will be doing once I'm back this May. That and maybe UCSD Sun God, unless the consensus says that I am too old to dedicate a whole day to getting wasted or UCSD got too lame and it's pointless to celebrate.

Can't say I'm not looking forward to it though. :)

I learned what it's like being rich today in Vietnam. Having your own driver. Owning a Benz while having Toyota is already considered baller status. Living it up in your 40s while learning about life in your 20s and working hard in your 30s is the secret. I think there's hope for little old me after all. I don't want to be rich, just enough for airplane tickets to go around.

I also learned how big the social gap between the rich and the poor can be, as is in every developing country out there. So here comes an obvious realization, even thought we bitch about it, and puts it down, and always wish we were living somewhere else, an average life in America is still sometime better than an average life somewhere else exotic. My one U.S dollar here could get me a ride, or a nice bowl of pipping hot and delicious noodle, or FIVE awesome thirst quenching cups of sugar cane juice, and any of these things are totally worth it.

Tonight, as I sat waiting for my friend at 9pm at night, a middle aged lady carrying two baskets of sweet toasted rice paper walking by, saw and asked me if I would by some from her. Usually I would say no, because I don't like sweet stuff, and because I wasn't in the mood for snacks (I was craving some late night noodles instead) but something about the way she asked me that made me really believed her when she said that business has been tough, and it would have been a favor if I were to buy some from her.

Now, I'm not a sucker for mushy things... not all the time anyway, and most of the time, I can tell if people are lying, because I am a big bullshitter myself. Takes one to know one, y'know, but I said alright, I'll take some. She sold me 3 for 10,000 VND, which is the equivalent of about fifty cents in U.S dollars.

If I dig around the bottom of my book bag, I probably would find enough coins to add up to 50 cents, so for me, this purchase wasn't that big of a deal, at all, but for this woman, she probably could use this 10,000 VND for something useful, like food.

Anyway, after almost an entire day of hanging around a successful relative, that little exchange got me a little sentimental so I thought I'd talk about it. I didn't think to take a picture of the food before I ate it, so both these pics are found online and do not belong to me haha.

How one seller manages two baskets otherwise known as gánh hàng rong

Toasted rice paper or bánh tráng nướng (this is the version with sesame seeds, the one I bought have no sesame and are much sweeter)

*Unfortunately I did not take these pictures. I found them on Google.

holiday drinking with some dirty old men

... but first, a vocab/language lesson:

nhậu : roughly translated as "a drinking party" with some food and lots of beer and alchy.

anh: a pronoun used for a male who is either a) older than the speaker b) the speaker's boyfriend c) the speaker when talking to someone younger than him or to his girlfriend d) the speaker's older brother -- similar to korean's "oppa"

em: a pronoun used for a female who is either a) younger than the speaker b) the speaker's girlfriend c) the speaker when talking to someone older then her or to her boyfriend d) the speaker's younger sister

chú: a pronoun used for an adult male who is either a) someone's uncle b) someone who is older than the speaker by at least a generation -- similar to korean's "ajusshi"

cháu: a pronoun used for a much younger speaker, with status as the speaker's niece/nephew/grand child

People use these pronouns and suffixes depending on their relationship with the other person so they can be changed from formal to informal pending on the status of the relationship.

This weekend is apparently a long weekend, lots of people get Monday and Tuesday off, so I have had the opportunity to hang out with a lot of friends and family members.

Earlier this week my bachelor uncle took me to a cafe where we enjoyed expensive drinks and nice music while being tended by young waiter and waitresses. As a general rule to all food service establishment, all waitresses are to call all male customers anh regardless of their age. So all the cute and young waitresses call my uncle anh while they should really have called him chú. It was half funny and half awkward because later, when my uncle asked, we found out that the all waitresses are younger than me by at least 2 years, so if anything, he could be their uncle too!

Tonight, I met up with one of my cousins. He is one of the older cousins I have, around early 40's. He was in the middle of a nhậu fest with his friends when I called so he picked me up and had me join him. I call my cousin anh because he is older than me, and his friend share the same status as anh. If we all count our ages and had meet under different circumstances, I would call those guys chú as they are much older than me and could probably have children who are my age or older. They were way happy that someone my age is calling them anh and isn't a waitress so beside hitting on the waitress, they also tried to flirt with me. Slightly gross I might say.

Local people and my family included have been very liberal about drinking. Vietnam doesn't have a drinking age, so kids aren't sneakingly chasing the bottle and people drink when they want so there isn't much terrible scenarios of alcohol binging and poisoning. And mostly, people drink beer, or rice wine, not hard liquor. Most people, especially men, like to nhậu whenever they can, just like in college when we find an excuse to drink whenever we can regardless of the time. So this weekend gives everyone the perfect excuse to drink, it's a holiday, we have nothing to do, why not party it up!

I learned tonight that the rule of the nhậu table is that, if one person picks up the glass to drink, everyone clinks their glasses and everyone drinks. I wasn't aware of this rule and kept sipping, so every time I picked up the glass, everyone picked theirs up until someone called me out. Who would have thought that I get to learn something new today?

Women don't do much drinking here, especially the older generation, and even when they do, they drink mostly beer, not rice wine or liquor so I felt a bit uneasy about drinking, but it wasn't that big of a deal as people don't seem to care much. My uncles and family friends seems happy because they've found someone else who could party with them.

My cousin was pretty buzzed and decided to call my dad at 5:00 am California time.

"Hi uncle, I'm with your daughter. How're you doing?"

"Wtf why are you waking me up??"

One of my cousin's friend took over the phone and asked my dad,

"Hi uncle, there are two of us here beside your nephew, which of us do you pick (for your daughter)?"

"Your mama you bitch" Then he hung up.

I don't like my dad, but he could be so funny sometime, and apparently everyone who knows him loves hanging around him because he apparently has a deadpan sense of humor. I am very much enjoying getting to know more about my family through other people's eyes. Seeing them outside the mom and dad light is helping me understand my parents more and potentially *gasp* care for (or love) them more.

The big weekend is the memorial for the country's founder, it's going according to the Lunar Calendar and is this Tuesday. I didn't even know about this holiday because it didn't exist ten years ago! and only learned about it from the banner hung around the city.

my blog shows up under search key word "vietnamse dicks"

... or that's what my stat monitor is telling me.

Nice.

I had a semi-venturing day in District 1 yesterday, the city's center and the nest of foreigners, backpackers and expats. I had to head up there for a meeting with my new friend C to discuss what I will be doing with Helping Hand Saigon for the weekend. I had been wanting to head up to Distric 1 to check out the tourist scenery since I've been chilling on the local side all this time. So this was the perfect excuse to test the water since I am still feeling uneasy about heading out around town on my own.

I had my aunty dropped me off at the cafe where C and I are meeting. (when was the last time I needed a relative to drop me off anywhere haha?) I arrived 20-30 minutes before the meeting time so I took the chance to walk up and down the street the coffee shop is at. It's a completely different feel than the other areas in the city. I'm not sure how to describe it, but for some reason, I felt like I blend in/don't matter there. I don't feel people's eyes on me since they are either used to the sight of tourists or are more distracted by people looking more touristy than me.

Anyway, I head into the coffee shop after walking up and down the street like an idiot holding on to my helmet (that's a story for a different day) and went in for a drink to wait for my friend. This began my discovery of how prices in D.1 is so much more expensive than prices in all the other areas around due to the heavy tourists flow. Such is an iced tea costing 15,000 Dong while you can get the same thing for about 1,000 Dong or less somewhere else. One dollar is about 20,500 Dong right now. The cafe's name is Sozo and is apparently owned by a French of Germany lady.

Sozo cafe's upstair view

C and I talked about HHS for a bit and we talked about hanging out for the rest of the night but wanted to wait until the sun is down so it's cooler to be outside. To kill time C asked me to teach her Vietnamese. She is the Belgium friend I made two days ago. I taught her a few things while the cafe is slowly filled with university students. Apparently, Thursday and Friday nights are for English clubs so we left after it started and met up with some friends from our own English Club and went to another cafe.

I took the opportunity here to snap some more pictures while I'm out and some more when we walked around looking for food. I hung out with more locals who aren't relatives or old friends and it was quite an experience. One told me that he doesn't feel as nervous speaking English to me as he does when he speaks to a foreigner. I guess I have a calming effect on people hahaha. Nah, it was probably because the local mentality here still hold foreigners quite a bit apart from themselves. They either love foreigners for their money, hate foreigners for the customs or just completely don't/don't want to understand that non-Asian people are people too. Anyway, here are some tourist pics:

Not sure what these two buildings are for but they're prominant in District 1

Entering District 1 and the iconic Ben Thanh Market that requires ridiculous bargaining skills

I took this pic by accident, but I think less people should call me fat especially if there are chubby people around here too. Glass houses man, better watch out


Streets bustling with tourists, ridiculous electrical wires and cars without lanes

how foreigners make themselves look bad to locals

Today was my second night at the Engish Cafe/Club. My friend and I was actually on time this time, and we even had a good group of people instead of sitting my ourselves because we were late like last time.

How the meeting operates is that people are divided by groups, and each is set to discuss a sub-topic of a bigger topic for the night. Then all the groups would hear what the other talk about and furtherly discuss the topic with each other. It's a way to get everyone talking and learning to use category specific vocabulary.

Tonight's topic was "Co-habbiting without a marriage liscence and Marriage." What I got out of what young people like me are saying is that, they prefer to marry a person before living together because the Vietnamese society values the virginal status of the bride and if there will be a lot of pressure on the couple if they are just living together and not married.

I was a bit shocked to hear these idea because I had expected a more modernized answer, but I wasn't that shocked because after seeing that my friends here are still heavily attached to their family and all the social traditions. I guess that means that I will never brings honor to my family as a blushing bride. Oh well.

Anyway, there was a older American there as a facilator to one of the English speaking group. He stood out a lot because of his age, around middle age, and his attitude, he wasn't that friendly. As the discussion went around, he was very outspoken and opinionated about what the other young speakers have said regarding marriage. His tone was a bit condesending and patronizing commenting on how he has been to about 8 weddings in Vietnam and they all pretty sucked because everyone rushed in and out, and how he doesn't understand why there are so many bridal and wedding studios in the city or why everyone invites people they don't know to weddings and pretty much concluded that Vietnamese marriage is often about money and not love or enjoyment of the couple's reunion.

He is so lucky that the majority of the people in the room didn't have enough English vocabulary to give him a rebutal or just didn't understand completely what he was saying. Honestly, who the hell is this guy coming in here criticizing a country with thousands of years' ceremony and tradition? And if he hates it so much, why didn't he stop at wedding number 4 or number 5 and went to all 8 only to bitch about it now? Being the only non-white person who speaks and understands English fluently, I had to explain to him the flaws in his statements, that we don't just invite anyone, and those who are invited can not refused because lots of thoughts are put into the invitation, and wedding in Vietnam has seen better traditional days but it's not just a business like he thinks now. But he didn't even bother to turn around to look at me as I spoke to him and continued to refuse to see my point by saying that all he knows is that American wedding are way more fun and more sincere.

Wow... really? 250 years old America has better traditions and values than more than 3000 years of Vietnamese traditions. Like I said, he is lucky that no one else in the room knew enough English to tear him a new one, and that the discussion was ended before I finished speaking my piece.

I am told that he is the husband of Helping Hand Saigon's founder, and often expressed his negative attitude toward Vietnamese traditions during English Club time. Then why the fuck are you still here man? Get the fuck out of this place if you hate it so much, because now you're just annoying people with your pessimistic and shallow insutls about their culture. What you know is only the size of my pinky toe's nail and is nothing worth mentioning so don't just assume my entire culture is base on your wikipedia knowledge. Seriously, you are making yourself look bad, and just because no one is saying anything, doesn't mean they're not thinking about how shiteous you are for looking down on their culture. And what makes you think you are better than us to even look down on us, being white and ignorant?

I spent some part of my life making fun of people like you for a good laugh, but to really run into one of you, you should be really glad that there were barriers that kept me from whiping out my dick and slapping you silly.

Honestly, to come to a foreign country and to have stayed here for obviously a long time, he should at least learn to appreciate its good and bad sides as oppose to compare it to your homeland that is a melting pots of cultures. I think he thought that he could talk shit since there was also no one who could call him bullshit on making American culture seems way better than it really is.

Good news is, I made some more local friends and we're going places so more pictures soon.

3rd grade girl called me fat.. twice

... sorry I don't have a more clever title. I'm sure you're tired of hearing me complaining about how many people calling me fat here. I'm just as tired of being called fat by pretty much anyone, old or young, children or adult. So much that I don't really feel like leaving the house to explore the place I am at because people just stare at me way too much and say things that end up ruining my days before I even do anything to them. I've been inside "hidding" for a few days now.

Anywho, I've done quite a bit of moving around since the last time I posted. Two days in the city suburb with some more relatives and now I am in Saigon. However, not much has been going on in the past few days that are blog worthy beside how traffic gets more and more ridiculous and dangerous as I head into the city and all the places from my childhood seems much smaller than I remember.

I finally get to sleep in today and its because my aunt and uncle has some business to do in the morning. So it's almost eleven and I'm awake. In local times it's pretty late but I'm awake only because there is a black out and the fan is off so it's too hot to sleep anymore. Even though I do nothing, people still wake me up at 6 or 7 am and tried to make me eat breakfast while all I want to do is sleep.

As I've said, I haven't really done much exploring but I did contact Helping Hand Saigon, a local NGO that I will be/am joining for some for volunteer project. Their works include visiting orphanages as well as other groups and homes for the under-privilege. It's not at all hard to find under-priviledge people here in Vietnam, but to find organizations that are able to help them, in my opinion, is still pretty rare.

Before the trip, I spent a few months researching on NGOs in Vietnam and didn't find very much, so I was very glad to find Helping Hand Saigon. Anyway, upon contacting them, they invited me to their bi-weekly English club event, where local university and young professional get together to practice their English along with any foreigners who wish to help them.

Learning English in Vietnam is pretty much a priority for young people here. Higher English level could potentially get them better jobs and pays, and they all could use the money. I am told, almost consensusly, that the English learning method here does not really promote great speaking ability. So students are only able to read and write well, but hearing and speaking abilities are minimal. Students don't often get to practice what they learn, and not everyone could afford to study abroad in English speaking country, so all the money and effort they spent in learning English could potentially gone to waste. Which is why the English club is so helpful to English learning students, where they could practice their speaking skills with native or fluent English speakers who help them build up vocabulary and grammar.

Anyway, so I was there, and met some very nice people. One was a Belgium girl who is doing an internship with HHS. She is my age and is working on her Masters. In general, I was just happy to be able to speak English with people who can understand me.

Meeting this girl is sort of pulling me out of the daze I have been in for the past 2 weeks. Beside going into hiding for being to fat, I have only been with family, and I guess you could say I am getting quite comfortable under their wings, so I am not venturing out on my own. She made me realized how much easier I have it than her. She is here by herself, doesn't speak the language, get stared at way more than I do and still manage to do some looking around by herself eating the local food. Maybe I shouldn't be too discouraged at everyone from a 3rd grader to old ass grieving lady calling me fat at every turn and just grow a pairs and wander around town on my own.

Being sad about being fat should only be temporary. Right?

"look at that backpacker showing his dick, does he think Vietnamese don't have dicks so he's showing off?" (or my trip to Nha Trang, Vietnam)

The quote above was heard from my bus driver as we drove by a backpacker taking a piss on the side of the road. I thought it was hilarious, but after a week of being here, I don't know why he would be upset when everyone does it, men and women. Stopping by the side of the road to relieve yourself apparently is the norm here. I have seen several guys traveling in groups taking a piss together some spaces apart, and definitely have seen some old ladies squating not even in bushes with their butt cracks hanging out. I was too polite to pull out my camera and take a pic, but now that I think about it, maybe I should have.

Anyway, hello my loyal reader, you know who you are :)

It's about to be 10pm right now, and the entire house of my relatives are asleep. Early to bed, early to rise I suppose, it is the country side after all. Now that they're all asleep and not trying to feed me food, I finally have time to update this blog. Getting to this city was about the furthest up north of this country I have been. I have only heard about this place as a popular vacation spot, I finally got to see it for myself.

Nha Trang, Vietnam faces the ocean just like Rio, Brazil or Brighton, England, and if you keep going down on one certain street, you will hit the ocean. There are plenty of night clubs and bars around the beach front for a lively night. I actually did very little tourist things while in Nha Trang, and instead got to experience what locals my age would do, which I can tell you is a quite more relaxing and less expensive than what tourists in Nha Trang would experience.

It was a 6 hours bus ride from where I was before to the center of Nha Trang. As I've mentioned before, the distance actually isn't that long, it's only because there is only one main high way for all the vehicles so the entire drive is trafficked.

The main method of long distance transportation between places beside motorbike is by bus. Back when I was a kid, there was only one type of bus, a regular sized bus slightly smaller than the public school bus in the states, and it would stack on a bunch of people and go. They were all the same in term of size and service. What I learned is that, today, there are several types of buses being offered in various sizes. Big one, regular one, van-size one, and they all come with AC, some with sleeper beds and blankets and music for your entertainment.

First day:

For my trip out to Nha Trang, I got to try the sleeper bus for the experience since I figure I could use a laying down for a 6 hours drive, and since I have never been on a sleeper bus before and only heard about such thing from Harry Potter. The bus itself is the size of a big public bus or tour bus in the states, it has complete AC and a pull 2 mini TV screens. Instead of seats, there are 20 bunk beds, so 40 single bed total with blankets. Once you get on, you have to take off your shoes to walk down the isles to your bed. Each bed has a seat belt, but no one uses it except for me. Vietnam isn't much of a seat belt culture, and I think that's how they tell foreigners from locals is that foreigners would use the seat belt. It was kinda cool except it was cramped, and I got really naseous sitting on the top bunk since it swayed a lot due to the driver doing lots of swirlving.

It's sort of like camping in a moving cabin

Us stopping at a train track and me inside with a seat belt. That's pretty much how parking is around here.

Second day:

My cousin took me around to show me the city, and to Diamond Bay or know to locals as Song Lo (or Lo River). Diamond Bay, I think is the name for tourist. This area is the place where the Miss Universe 2008 was held, and I can only imagine how glamouros it was since the place screams extreme resort/spa/vacation glamor. It was pretty quiet while I was there though since right now is off season for tourists though I did spot some vacationers with sunburned face roaming around the streets later on.

We're so close to the divider, there is only one lane, she didn't even use two hands at some point and everyone were really fast, of course I had to take pictures and not hold on tight

Showy things to attract tourists

I seriously don't know any locals who goes driving

Anyway, I'm tired now, will add more later.

"eat, eat, fish doesn't make you fat, don't worry" or "why do your jeans have holes in them, did you fall and tear your clothes?"

I've lost track of time completely. I'm not sure what day it is right now. I think it's Monday over here. Losing a whole Wednesday due to the time zone change really threw me off lol. And the whole 15 hours differences and my not having a watch isn't helping. And I don't have a phone yet so everything is off.

I've been here for about 4 days now, and beside living on the dangerous side of riding in the back of a motorbike almost every day, I haven't done much except for getting fed a lot, being stared at by people/locals, being mosquitoes' favorite meals, and being awake way too much during the hours that the sun is still out.

It is almost 9 am right now. I have been up since 8 am. It sounds terrible, I'm sure, considering that it's Spring Break right now in the states. I mean, who gets up at 8 am by choice?

Well, people here get up at like 5 or 6 am. The streets and the shops are alive around that time, markets are open around the same time too, especially in the country, which is where I am. My aunties and uncles get up around 5 or 6ish. After my first night, I got up at 7 am-ish and really didn't believe that my body could do that voluntary. Sleeping until 8 or later is considered too late, and 10 am is considered noon-time for lunch and then people take a (mandatory) nap around 11am or 12pm after their lunch meal until 3-4pm then eat some more and resume their work until dinner time. The sun sets late but fast here, and I feel that after the sun sets people go to sleep right away because it would be around 10pm and houses would have their doors closed and light turned off.

So now there is sort of an assumption that Americans sleep a lot... well, you would too if life doesn't end until 1-2am and you don't go to bed until 3-4 am, and you don't get the privilege of napping for 2-3 hours in the middle of the day.

Honestly, I don't particularly remember how life was like when I was a kid so I can't compare, but it also could be that it's the country side. Maybe when I get to the city it'll be better.

Enough complaining about the sun, let's address the more important topic that everyone is dying to know, "how is the food?"

Pretty fuckin' awesome, guys.

I'm eating so much fishes, and delicious noodle soup, I can not complain. It helps that the country side area I am staying at is near the coastal front/a beach town, so every seafood I eat is pretty fresh. I am anticipating a hook up with some scrumptious blue crabs soon. I'll tell you about it, and maybe even post pictures of our rendez-vous. I haven't had many chances of taking pictures of my food because (a.) It looks just as silly as someone else doing it (b.) My locals relatives don't get it and make fun of me. But I do have a few pics for you to see, so don't worry my loyal reader(s?)

I have had street food more than thrice already, and my stomach has been fine so far, granted that most of these street food have been togo-ed home. Okay, I lied, the second day my stomach wasn't too happy, but Pepto Bismo is my friend. These little pink pills have my back, so I'm not so worried.

On top of street food, my relatives and everyone around have been really putting in an effort to feed me under the ASSumption that I must really love to eat because I am not chubby for no reason. I am being fed stuff that they think I would like/stuff that they think I should try which is all fine and dandy but sometime it hurts because I can only eat so much. Plus I am still not used to the hot weather, and being too full on food is even more uncomfortable while sweating. But if I turn them down, saying I am full or not wanting to eat more, they think it's because I am afraid to be fat even though I seriously just ate a ton of food 15 minutes before! So they would try to persuade me to eat by telling me that "fish won't get me fat" or "sour fruits don't make people fat" and therefore I should eat more of them.

In the Vietnamese culture, people do a lot of assuming and analyzing as making answering for what is out of the ordinary or what they don't understand. The same method in which superstitious belief or even religions are created. Thus is the same approach my relatives take when it comes to me. It's goes unmentioned if I am agreeable to their suggestions, but if I state otherwise, lots of "explanation" as of why comes up, and in term of food, all assumptions point to either I-love-it-therefore/because-I-am-fat or I-hate-it-because-I-am-fat/afraid-0f-getting-fat. I try laughing it off, but after a few days, it's getting harder and harder to find it funny.

Anywho, here's some food I've eaten. They don't look too fancy, but they sure are delish!

Quãng-style noodles, can be made with pork, chicken, beef or shrimps, or combination of all

Crab and corn soup. Simple and scrumptious

I get stared at a lot. I think they know I am not from around here. Compare to local girls, I am not any taller, but definitely wider and protrude in more places. When going shopping, people don't believe that I am a size S despite the store selling American brands with American size. I kept being handed M or L and they think the only reason why I fit in smaller size is because the style/cut is loose and baggy.

It also doesn't help that people here are not as conservative as travel websites make them out to be. I was worried that I would stand out too much dressing too open and "American" so all I brough with me are loose and baggy clothes, but girls wear tight, short and flashy stuff here plenty. I have only been wear sport bras because to be even more conservative, but all is for naught because everyone is getting pretty modernized and like to show their goods just as much as anyone else in the world. I only get more stares because I am not doing what they are doing. Young people stare because they notice that I am not wearing the same trend as they are, and old people stare because they just don't get trend in general. I visited my great-aunty wearing a pair of ripped jeans, and she kept asking me how did I tear my jeans, and why don't I throw away clothes that are ripped and buy new ones LOL.

In addition, the culture values and appreciates pale skin, due to the past few months of me hiding from the sun, I've been quite pale so I come off a chubby and pale girl from America, a image displaying the sign of wealth and prosperity, even though we all know it's quite the opposite as I am, sadly, a broke ass fool. So please stop staring, people because as much as I love the attention, I am shy and get stage fright and would rather you talk to me instead.

Even mosquitoes think my blood has something else to offer more than the locals. People joke that it's because my blood smells sweater, and I have more meat to offer (more fat jokes). Ever since my arrival in Nha Trang, a famous seaside city for tourists, I have been pretty much a feast for these miniature draculas. I did bring some anti-mosquitoes repellent, but because I wasn't bitten at all for the first 2-3 days, I got a little cocky and didn't bring it with me to this city. Well fuck, that was a bad decision if I ever made one. In one sitting, I killed 3 mosquitoes, but they kept coming, and thank lord baby Jesus for Cortizone, the magical itch medicine, otherwise, I think I might have to hurt someone to feel better.

Can't always drink my blood and get away with it, bitch

Spot the bites. Go

Next post will be about Nha Trang, a tourist destination, wait for it... :)