The Sea is Foaming Like a Bottle of Beer

The three guys sitting quietly by themselves in their parent’s basement that actually read this thing, while taking a break from some intense fantasy role play of course, might actually be interested in knowing a little more about the Vietnamese worldview, a subject I myself am fully under-qualified to even address. However, by simply existing in a new culture and taking on the modest role of a learner, you do, once in a while, stumble upon an experience that illustrates some aspect of this abstract entity that you yourself would otherwise be quite unable to articulate. The following recounts the most recent of these overseas epiphanies.

Last week, our team took a train south to the wonderful city of Vinh in order to observe the lives of teachers from our organization who are participating in the University Teaching Program (UTP). For those of you who are neither familiar with the nearly recent history of the SRV or with the upbeat musical stylings of Billy Joel, Vinh is the largest city in the Nghe An province, the birthplace of Ho Chi Minh. It was a great trip and in accordance with ELI policies, I kept close tabs on Anne and Sandy, the two teachers down there. For the first night, it was honestly a little strange watching them while they soundly slept in bed, but by the second and third night, it seemed pretty natural.

Anyways, for one brief morning, we were able to venture out to Cua Lo, a beach roughly 20 kilometers (okay and just because I’m using the metric system doesn’t mean I’m a terrorist) from Vinh proper. I was able to ride back from this aquatic frolic (can I say that?) with Sandy. She drove me on her motorbike. I was like Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, and John Travolta all rolled into one, and she was like their friend. However, during this Eric Estrada-esque adventure, the back tire of the bike sprung two leaks on two different occasions, both of which completely deflated the intertube. With no allen-crescent on hand, I thought we were sunk in a sea of gravelly pavement, but I soon found that in this country, most roads are stocked quite comfortably with workers who are ready to fix your hog at a moment’s notice. The first flat was serviced by a man who ran some type of concession bar at a hospital parking lot and the second by a younger guy who staffed a sugarcane juice stand. In the end, Sandy decided to simply buy a new intertube from the second vender, rather than attempt a second plugging.

As we pulled away from the makeshift service stand, Sandy, in light of the recently suffered circumstances, expressed her frustration with some problems her bike had brought her over the last year and then concluded with compounding cadence that, “There is no such thing as a tune up in Vietnam.”

I thought about this quote for a moment and decided that it was quite an accurate commentary in terms of explaining some things I had observed over the past few months. In this country, it seems that things are in one of two conditions, either they are working or broken, and as a long as whatever you have falls into the former category, then all is well. For example, often when I cycle around the city, I notice bicycles with rusty chains and frames that look as if they won’t make it another block, bikes that I would be weary of even running the smallest errand with. However, as long as they are running and continue to have this capability, then there are no problems. The bike will break down when it breaks down and that is that. In the meantime, use it as it should be used.

This mentality seems to apply to many occurrences I’ve seen here and fits quite well into the laid back and “take it as it comes” philosophy that the culture here functions within. I’d like to write more about that sometime soon as well, because to this high strung American, although sometimes frustrating, it has been a nice breath of fresh air.

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A few weekends ago, Melia and I were able to go with some of our students at the institute to an orphanage just outside of Hanoi. It was really great seeing them in this setting because it really brought out the best in them. They were giving themselves to others in a way that I would never have seen in the classroom or chatting over tea. Here are some pictures of that refreshing day….


Some of My first year students and some children from the orphanage.


Class K2C.


Melia and Thuan, a girl from the orphanage.