The Vietnam Dong Song

Vietnamese currency is the dong and every time we have to pay with dong here in the Mekong Delta, under my breath I sing Sisqo’s Thong Song.

Not Your Average Christmas

So after a crazy Christmas Eve Mass at Notre Dame, we spent Christmas Day just like any other Christmas back in the United States. Cake for breakfast. Then a tour of the Cu Chi tunnels, but that was cancelled. We slept for another couple of hours in protest. In the afternoon, as expected by our parents, we called to wish them a Merry Christmas. It just happened to be from the opposite side of the globe. And no Christmas is complete without a visit to the gym. Was your Christmas the same?

Needless to say, Christmas was a little different. It would have been great to spend it with family and friends, as they are sorely missed, but we did enjoy our last quiet Christmas for the foreseeable future. Next Christmas, a new member of the family will join us. Place your bets now on a boy or girl.

Mr. Bean, More Sarcasm In This Tunnel Please

The day after Christmas, better known as Boxing Day to some northern countries, or St. Stephen’s Day if you are Scuba Steve, our guide Mr. Bean led a tour to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Mr. Bean promptly informed us that he had indeed worked with the American forces during the Vietnam War and that all American women have big asses. I didn’t see the direct correlation between those two statements, but I was sure he would soon draw some type of correlation. One couldn’t disagree that quite a few do in fact do have a large gluteus maximus, but not all of women. That was pretty unfair generalization, and a little unprofessional if you’re super sensitive to gross generalizations about women’s self image. Probably perfectly acceptable, and expected, in New Mexico though.

Back to the Cu Chi tunnels. These tunnels built by the Viet Cong allowed them to move out of sight of the American soldiers. These small underground tunnels contained three levels. These tiny tunnels were effective. It left the small Vietnamese conducted undetectable their fighting, eating, sleep, cooking. All underground. From their underground advantage point, the Communist soldiers traveled at night by foot over three miles to nearby American bases to steal their weapons. These subways weren’t discovered by the Americans until long after the war was over.

As Nadine and I lowered our large, oversized American bodies, according to the ever wise Mr. Bean, into these tiny burrows, it was hard to believe they could live like this for 24 hours, much less years. With the first exit in sight and the second level angling further down into the deeps of the earth’s soul, fresh air and the freedom to freely move my arms were the easy choice.

The Irish To The Rescue

Not only did the mountain of negative comments from Mr. Bean about Americans continue non-stop, he was even alienating several of the non-Americans on the tour. Two of those folks were Irish, and the Irish are used to being harassed, and if they come to your defense, maybe it’s excessive.

But as we spoke and broke the ice with Jacqui and Josephine, I mentioned “I now feel like I should hate Americans too”. Recognizing the dry humor, they laughed and mentioned that Nadine and I were individually responsible for everything wrong in the world. As we walked together recounting all the horrible things we’ve done together, introduced edible SPAM, promotion Billy Ray Cyrus music as real country, and everything that ails New Mexico, I cynically convinced a young American girl, from Philadelphia of all places, that everything Mr. Bean was saying about the U.S. was absolutely true.

Me – “Everything that Mr. Bean says about the U.S. is absolutely true! I know it is.”
Naive Philly girl – “No, it’s not all true. He’s wrong with a few things.”
M – “I know it’s true. I’ve been to the U.S. once before. And it’s all definitely true.”
N.P.G. – “No!!! It’s not true!”
M – “But it is! I have been there once!”
N.P.G. – “No it’s not! I’m American! I should know.”

It was at this point that Nadine gave me “the look” as the Irish girls looked on curiously at this little interaction between two Americans. What made this interaction funny was that I didn’t change my voice at all to sound French, Mexican, or from anywhere else in the world. Just English with a slight Texas drawl. To avoid making her look even more foolish, I admitted that I too was Texan and American. My cruel little game concluded, but I couldn’t get over the fact that she didn’t even suspect that I might be American.

MeKong Delta, YouKong Delta, We All Kong Kong Delta

That afternoon was spent with the Irish girls laughing about the day’s tour and our Philly girl. Hope she isn’t reading about herself on this blog. I’m pretty confident she isn’t as only my Mom reads it . . . occasionally. We bid each other adieu walking to our respective hostels. Come to find out, we walked to the same hostel.

Next day, eager for another day exploring Vietnam, and this morning we did notice Jacqui and Josephine in the lobby. We mutually hoped Mr. Bean wouldn’t guide with his bag of slander. Yet who arrived, none other than Mr. Bean himself. Grief filled our faces, but fortunately he only drove us around the block until we moved to another bus, and out of permanent earshot of Mr. Bean.

The Mekong Delta tour carried us to the massive Mekong Delta River that runs from China and through the vast majority of Southeast Asia. A selling point of this tour were the floating markets. In reality, they simply turned out to be a handful of wooden boats bobbing up and down in the middle of a Mekong Delta tributary.

Yet interestingly enough, a handful of boats would hoist up their vegetable of choice high above with a wooden stick to identify vegetable to buyers. Other than that, the “floating market” was a sinking letdown. But like reasonable tourists, photos were dutifully taken. If there aren’t photos, there’s no proof it actually happened.

This Lunch Hits Like A Ton Of Bricks

The rest of the afternoon, we stopped at a coconut candy making factor, excellent candy sans the processed sugar, a rice popping exhibition, and an authentic Vietnamese lunch on a large island in the Mekong River Delta. Before lunch, I propped a python around my neck to squeeze a little extra space for the meal.

The tour up to that point, felt like a big shopping tour around the Mekong Delta, and as we neared our last stop, a brick factory, we began to wonder if they were going to sell us some bricks.

“The prefect gift for your loved ones, an authentic Vietnamese brick to put in that Christmas stocking.”

I couldn’t get over the fact that they took us to a brick factory. What?!?! What did the people who designed this trip think when they included, “to complete the tour, why don’t we visit a brick factory. People will love that.” Nadine made the most of it to learn, but I just keep shaking my head and wondering why we were there, as I took obligatory pictures of a pile of bricks. I can’t wait to show my pictures of bricks when we return home.

Serving A Dancing Nunnery

During our time in Ho Chi Minh City, Nadine successfully set up a volunteer teaching gig. Teaching English for two weeks for a group of nuns in the town of Thủ Đức, just north of HCMC. Before teaching, the nuns took us up to the mountain village of Long Dien. Here we met what seemed like half the village who worked with the Congregation de Notre Dame des Missions. Not knowing that there was going to be some foreigners visiting, they set up an impromptu concert and presentation in the spam of fifteen minutes. One of the most amazing organizational jobs I’ve ever seen. The state of New Mexico could learn something from this.

Along with Sister Marie Therese (Australia), the group treated us like royalty and a concert. They also asked us to come back and bring our friends, because they would love to learn English. So, if you want to teach English in Vietnam, we know just the place.

As far as our responsibilities of teaching, we’ve been running the nuns through a gauntlet of speaking and writing exercises in the morning, followed with a quality nap at noon, and then finishing up in the afternoon with readings and pronunciation. When you do come to teach English, they will properly respond to all your questions with “y’all,” “yes maam,” and “I didn’t know there was a New Mexico either” interjected in their best Texas drawl. During our first day of pronunciation of the letter “p”, I successfully managed to have a nun say the word “poop”. It could be useful.

These nuns are honestly some of the nicest people on earth you could meet. Others might be just as nice, but none nicer. Great people with big hearts. Even though their Vietnamese New Year is in February, they celebrated ours on January 1st with us and presented us flowers and necklaces. Their hospitality came from a genuine place.

Another quality that they own and have in common with my grandma White is that they will feed you until the cows come home. Everytime we turn around, it’s “would you like some more fish, or some bread, or maybe some lemon juice. We have some tasty chocolate in the fridge. Nadine, you should be drinking more milk. You are pregnant.”

So in preparation for our weekend trip to the beach, they even bought us some beer. They are doing us up right. Maybe we will have to stay longer, or maybe that is what they are trying to do by giving us a six pack of beer, bait us into staying longer.

What was the former name of Ho Chi Minh City before 1975?

Good luck. Life is good for us. We are doing well and enjoying teaching.

JW