My Lil’ Saigon

I understand. You don’t have to prove to me that it is rainy season. I already get the point. I have seen the rain, I have felt the rain, I have been drenched by the rain.

I GET THE POINT.

Stop raining whenever I leave the house.

Thanks,

Brian

Over the last 2 days I have had to drive in the rain 4 times. On Sunday I had to go to work and it was pouring. My alley was flooded to my knees (outside my house, but further towards the main road it was only mid to upper calf high) and the road was flooded a bit too. I drove to work early during what turned out to be the worst of the storm and I got there, soaked but safe. Then I went upstairs and noticed I had forgotten my shoes. Back home I went, again in the rain. Get home, get the shoes and head back. I broke my sandal when I tried to walk through the water back to my bike, and then since the traffic was backed up on the road, I took my usual shortcut. That was a bad mistake. This alley was flooded worse than mine. In 2 or 3 spots the water was higher than my knees. People were pushing their bikes. I however did not wish to stop and do that, so I powered through. I think my motorbike has an aquatic side to it because the engine never once faltered in the deep water.

Anyway, I was completely soaked and it was a good thing I had worn my swimming trunks and a t-shirt during my drive. I was able to change into my teaching clothes and once again be dry.

Today I went to turn in an application for a different job and it was drizzling when I left. About 2 minutes into my drive that drizzle turned into a downpour and i got soaked (my CV got wet too). I got to the school and the rain stopped. Then when I left the school, it started raining again.

Now I have to substitute teach tonight, and the sky looks like rain again.

Am I complaining? No, not really, I don’t mind it all that much, I just wish it didn’t have to rain EVERY time I left the house.

Interesting? Well, partially interesting.

The VAS school year is officially over, therefore I no longer work in the afternoons for the next month. I am awaiting my schedule for the summer session, and I can only hope it involves morning hours at a primary school (or something similar).

Beyond that I met Chris Harvey on saturday for a few Czech Pilsner’s. I must say he’s an interesting fellow, plus he likes beer which is always an excellent thing. I think I’ll see him lobbying Tiger to produce an IPA, or for some company to start importing it, and I’ll be on his side even though it isn’t my favorite type of beer.

Later in the evening I was invited to watch the Super 14 Finals, which happened to be a contest of two South African teams this year. Though I know virtually nothing about rugby, I must say it is excellent to watch, though not quite so good after a few beers. As your attention span dwindles, you miss more and more of the action. At least with American football there is predetermined beer breaks (in between plays), in rugby there is certainly no such thing. That and the favored team of Cafe Latin (by unofficial survey of cheering intensity) lost the game on the final “try” of the game (if that is the right term, I have no idea).

Oh, and Man U lost the FA cup finals later in the evening in 2 extra times.

For my American readers: two major sports games were played, I watch some of both, and I drank a new brand of beer being put out by SAB-Miller, which was better than the first time I drank it, and cheap too.

That brings us to Sunday. I lost my phone. I left my house at 10am, and by 10:30am it was gone. Must have slipped out of my pocket. I called it later in the day only to have some stranger answer it and say “I bought it, but you can have it back for 800kVND, I have to make a profit you know”.

So yeah, Ly told him to screw off and I’m going in to cancel the SIM card tomorrow and hopefully get a new SIM with the same number. Then I just need to buy a phone. A blessing in disguise?

Please see my “Work Permit Guide” for some information on getting a work permit in Vietnam. I am hardly an expert, as I haven’t been able to get one myself and no one has been able to give me a straight answer, but I wrote down some things that I didn’t see else where.

Also remember, I am from the States, so this won’t work for you crazy Brits, Oz’ or elsewhere people.

Clicky

And I am very excited about it! I will be doing volunteer work for Wildlife at Risk (WAR). I won’t get into many details at the moment because I’ve only been to one meeting but it seems like the possibilities are endless, depending on my talent, motivation, and devotion.

Once again I have been invigorated about academic work in the environmental field. It has never been about the money, though I know that with this type of work I will feel immensely proud of what I do. I will hopefully be involved in a variety of projects, with marine wildlife being the main focus.

My background is mostly freshwater and temperate forest (Wisconsin has no ocean, which makes me sad), so doing work in a tropical marine environment will be a new and interesting challenge.

The WAR has begun!

Vietnamese funerals, if traditional, contain a lot of chinese or buddist elements. In the case of Ly’s grandfather, there was quite a bit of both. Prayers and music began late the same night of his passing, and continued until his burial. His body was layed to rest in the coffin underneath plastic encasing, bamboo mats, and tea leaves, with a paper body and his wordly possesions being put on the very top. The coffin was then sealed with putty and tap, and then nailed.

The music, a traditional funeral style, was produced by symbols, drums, and an oboe-like instrument. They also used an electric guitar, which is not traditional. Even though we were in the middle of the mekong delta, at least 5km away from any city, the band felt the need to play their music through two gigantic speakers. It was painful to stand near the coffin or eat at the tables placed in front of the band. I’m sure it also let any family within 2km know that someone had died.

A pig was slaughtered for the feast. Throughout the two days inbetween death and burial food was consumed regularly, and every guest was given his/her share. Mourners came in groups every 10-15 minutes for the two days, the total number of people who came I can not guess.

Burial was on saturday morning exactly at 6am. This was the lucky time for his departure. The burial ceremony began at 3am with prayer sessions at the house. It continued on with a martial arts display with fire dancing too. The coffin was then carried 2km, and across a ferry (small one, enough for a few people at at time, about 6 trips for the entire funeral party) to his place of rest. Being that the procession was at 4am and in complete dark, people carried bamboo torches. It was an eerie scene, like something out of a movie, or a cult ritual. I greatly enjoyed it even though it was 4am.

More prayers were said at his grave, his body was lowered exactly at 6am, and then everyone left as the concrete was layed. The event was over as quickly as it had began.

It was a joyous yet solemn event, and everyone agreed that the man was great one. I wish I had known him when he was younger.

Now back to your regularly scheduled lack of website content.

100 years old and a local legend. Ly’s grandfather was an incredible person that I wish I could have learned more about. He saw most of Vietnam’s modern changes, and he was a Vietnam war hero, but he wasn’t a fighter. He had 11 children and so many relatives I could not begin to count. Last wednesday he finally succumbed to his weakened state in the heat of the final days of the hot season.
His funeral began on wednesday night and continued until burial on saturday morning, and I was present for the entire thing. The experience was unique and highly intriguing, and completely exhausting. Over the days I did learn a few things about the man which explained why he was a local hero.
Consider this: During the Vietnam war, he did not fight, yet he was a hero. Like many others he protected and fed Viet cong soliders. He also was the parent of one. For this he was punished greatly, being beaten and imprisoned for his actions. He was even brought to the edge of death by being put in line for the firing squad. He never broke, he never told the Americans what he knew, and he was able to live by invoking the mercy of the soliders. He was simply a farmer, his hands calloused and hard, his skin dark and scarred. He was released to go back to his life. His legend only grew as his age increased, and near the end of his life he was known to all in the area, he has one of the first concrete bridges of that area named in his honor and would have been happy to know that over the 2 full days of visitation time, his body was visited nearly every 5 minutes by a new mourner.
I knew him for only 4 months and I will miss him, but he lived a long and exciting life.

More to come…