Virtual-Doug

If We Were in Texas, It Would Be Called a “Toad Choker”

We had a storm blow in off the East Sea.  (The Vietnamese refer to the body of water lying between Việt Nam and the Philippines as the East Sea, not the South China Sea.)  It didn’t have time to develop into a tropical storm, but we had lots of wind (about 30 mph or 48 kph) and rain.  And I mean lots of rain.

Lots and lots of rain.

The street in front of our Guest House is not paved, unless you want to call the loose gravel in front of the gate “pavement.”  There are two deep gullies across the street, one each on either side of the entrance.  Looking to the right of the entrance from the second story, you can see one gully, and it is quite flooded.  To the right of the road is a rice paddy, which of course, stays wet all the time.

So what do I mean by “flooded?”  Take a look at this.  On the left side of this picture is a girl trying to push her stalled motorbike out of the water.  The water is above the hubs of the wheels.  I stood on the balcony for ten minutes, and watched half of the motorbikes stall in such deep water. Most of the bicycles were ridden by school kids, and some of them fell off their bikes.  Of course, the smart ones dismounted and walked through.   The gully on the other side of the Guest House entrance was equally flooded, and it is wider than the gully shown here.

The view from the back of the Guest House was equally damp.  The rice paddy turned into a lake – all that was needed was a power boat and skis.

Next month begins the rainy season in Hué.  I am told that rain like this is the norm – and I had better get used to it.

Oh joy!

Silverado (by the Mystery Guest Blogger)

I watched it Sunday morning with a 4th year student.  Nhi is working on a research paper concerning the benefit of watching English language movies by English language learners.  She is circling in on her topic.  It is easier to find info on a vague, broad subject, but a narrow and particular topic would make a tighter paper.

Concerning her research, we have discussed engaging other students to watch movies, with pre and post surveys, and other ways to gather data.  Julie is her research advisor, so I get the easy part of this – watching movies.  Nhi loves movies as much as me.  Assuming it is easier to do research on a topic you enjoy, we have dived right in.  Her English is not nearly perfect, so I don’t know what conclusions can be drawn about any of it.  But we plan to watch movies together on Sunday mornings as long as it seems productive.  Or as long as we are having fun.

I didn’t exactly talk her into watching “Silverado” (the best modern Western on film, or video tape, or whatever it is they use now), but to me it seemed the perfect choice.  It has everything.  Good looking actors.  A clear cut notion of good guys and bad guys.  Fabulous scenery!  (We used to live in New Mexico.)  A riveting plot, with streams of subplots and motifs interwoven.  A classic score.  It was written, produced and directed by one of my favorites, Lawrence Kasdan (The Big Chill, Star Wars V + VI, Body Heat, Raiders of the Lost Ark).  Where else would you begin a movie-quest while thirsting for Americana clichés?

It was weird to approach it in such a clinical manner.  Before she arrived, I primed the equipment, changing the projector’s wall to a closer, smaller view since it is so light in the daytime.  We eventually just watched it on the laptop for the benefit of the detail – snow hiding from the sun in the rocky terrain, horses’ snorty breath in the scenes when the sun is just coming up over the cold mesas.  She would’ve missed all that on our yellow wall.

The movie booted up well before she got here, so I watched “the making of” while I waited.  So impressive.  And I wanted her to like it as much as I do. 

Việtnamese students have a historically difficult time getting through our idioms.  Heck, who wouldn’t!  There are volumes of sayings that only we understand.  I know a local teacher who wrote his master’s thesis on American idioms.  In our office there are several volumes of them.  These are things we learned at the knee of a parent or grandparent, and if you didn’t you are behind the power curve.  “Jumped you out of the blue,” “minding my own business,” “my whole rig,” “it was no use,” “did 5 years in Leavenworth,” and that’s just in the first two minutes of dialog. 

It took us 3 and a half hours to watch the 2 hour movie for the starts and stops and explanations.  It was mostly me, trying to make sure she didn’t miss out on any of the innuendo of the story line.  But she would stop it too, wondering the meaning of “whoa” and “hyah!”  And do the horses really understand those words? 

But I admit, I interrupted the movie the most.  I wanted Nhi to see the snow, and as a consequence, realize how cold the water was as the wagon trains went through it or as Mal rushed into the river to retrieve his father’s body.  I didn’t want her to miss the significance of “you brought a posse to my best hideout,” or Stella’s face as she realizes Paden is letting the bad guys get by with their bad stuff to in order to protect her.  I wanted her to see American values of honor, friendship, and love of family represented in this purest of ways – ultimate good meets ultimate evil.  But, I couldn’t explain every word, so I was happy when everyone had a final drink of “the good stuff” at the Midnight Star, and she was ready to say it with them.

A wonderful time was had by the two of us last Sunday morning, watching this superb movie.  It was exhilarating to watch it through her eyes, new to some of the tenets we hold dear.  I just wished, now that she understood the plot and the dialog, she could just watch the whole thing right straight through for fun.  But the morning was over, and we both actually had lives to get back to.  Maybe some other Sunday morning.

PS from MGB:  If you have never seen “Silverado,” or it has been a long time, treat yourself to this classic.

Sunday in Hué

Our lives are a bridge between two cultures.  Of course, we know we cannot be true participants in the Vietnamese culture simply because we cannot speak the language.  But we can try, and we can be a window to our western culture for the Vietnamese.

On a recent Sunday, we thought we would have a typical American Sunday morning.  What can be more American than waffles, butter and maple syrup?  Last year, our team mate received a waffle iron as a gift, and the Mystery Guest Blogger found the  ingredients at the Bảo Thành market.  Invited guests were a young couple from Quang Tri Province (the next province north of Hué).  They were married only last May, and our team mate had been a guest of honor and videographer at their wedding.

Trang is a school teacher.  Her husband is a medical professional, but they live in one of the poorest provinces in Việt Nam.  This young bride, shown here learning how to use a waffle iron, has three pots at home to cook with.  Count ‘em – three!  And, those are borrowed from her mother-in-law.

(Be sure to click on the photos to see a larger version.)

The morning was a marvelous success.  It was fun to talk, and laugh, and to share a bit of Americana with two young people who will never see the United States.  Though we weren’t crazy about the super sweetness of maple syrup, they liked the waffles.  I liked the Vietnamese orange nectar that was served.

The morning was crowned as they prepared to leave.  I was flabbergasted when she wrapped her arms around me and asked if I would be her grandfather.  Startled out of my normal reserve, I was both embarrassed and flattered at the same time. The word “Ông” in Vietnamese is a title of respect given to an old man, and is often used as part of the words meaning grandfather.  I am Ông Doug now.

I see a trip to Quang Tri in the future to see these folks again.

Be Out of Town

Eat your heart out!  Next week, I’ll be traveling to Bangkok for a business meeting.  I feel certain I’ll have Internet access, but doubt I’ll have time to blog.

The Birthday Lady

Most of my postings are about Hué and our observations about Việt Nam.  I have neglected to mention the other American teacher we work with.  Next June, she will complete five years of teaching here.  She speaks fluent Vietnamese, and both her students and the Vietnamese teachers admire and respect her greatly.  For the two of us, she has been a guiding light as we struggled to adapt to the new culture.

So we threw a big bash on her birthday.  The Mystery Guest Blogger and I were amazed at the number of students and Vietnamese teachers who came.  It was a testimony to the impact she has had on this community.

Happy Birthday, Miss Julie.  Thanx for being our friend.

There Are Wags Everywhere

I was waiting for the Mystery Guest Blogger to come out of the Post Office the other day, when a nearby sign caught my eye.

Some background.  In Hué, little side alleys that lead off of main streets are called kiêts.  Each kiêt has a number, and the houses of businesses on the kiêt use a numbering system based on the main street.  In this case, the sign is for Kiêt 42 off of Lê Lọi Street.

But, some wag erased the two Ls, then added an m.  The result is “Em Oi.”  Em is the personal pronoun for someone younger than you – and of a lesser status.  Oi is an attention getting word.  Saying “Em Oi” in a restaurant is what you say to summon the waiter.

You see?  There are clever graffiti artists the world over.

One Building’s Construction

Things have moved on since last week.  Note the bricks.  They are not the same as bricks used in North America.  Instead, they are kind of a cross between a concrete block and a brick.  There are large holes in the formed bricks, and I assume those holes trap air as an aid to insulation.  Houses here are not constructed to be airtight – in fact they are designed to be open to catch the breezes as air conditioning is not the norm.

(Be sure to click on the photos to see a larger version of the picture.)

The Agony and the Ecstasy Redux

Back on September 9, I wrote about the cute little electric scooter we bought for the Mystery Guest Blogger.  Well, it was definitely agony.  It was made in China, and was an absolute piece of junk.  (Get it?  Chinese junk?)

While we were shopping for it, we had seen another bike in the store that looked more like a normal bike, but was a lot more expensive that the scooter.  It was also made in Japan.  Of course, being cheapskates, we opted for the less expensive scooter – and got what we paid for.  The fourth trip to the dealership (after it broke down at  night on the way home from dinner) was enough.

The shop was kind enough to give us the full amount towards the purchase of the more expensive Japanese bike – but they didn’t have on in the store.  After promising to call our university friend when one was delivered, we went through a week and half trying to figure out how to get her around town, to classes, and to eat.  One day she took a cab to shop at a nearby cake store, she dropped into the bike shop. What does she see?  Not one, but two new Japanese bikes.  Customer service has not yet arrived in Central Việt Nam.

After some friendly haggling, we forked over another 2,4000,000 Vietnamese Ðông (about $150 US).  The thing was great – rock solid feel, well built, and boogied right along.  (Be sure to click on the photo to see a larger version.)

For four days.

Then, it just died.  I took a look, and the fuse was blown, so  I pedaled it over to the shop and the “mechanic” took a look at it.  I watched him as he then found a piece of wire, and started to “hot wire” the fuse box.  Oh no, I told him.  I think he truly thought he was “fixing” it and I was just being a smarty foreigner.  But, he finally said to return in an hour.  He had a new fuse, the MGB got on it and got about four stores way – and it blew again. (I have an idea he didn’t know an amp from a hole in the ground, and bought the wrong fuse.  The second one had a very thin wire indeed.)  But, after awhile, and thanx to our university friend, the bike was “fixed” again.  I noticed the mechanic worked in such a way that I couldn’t watch him.  We got back to the Guest House. 

I looked at the fuse.

Not only was it hot wired - - he had soldered the wire in place.

Today was a day of negotiations.  We settled for a warranty of six months, even if the motor fries (which is likely.)  For right now, it runs fine.

For right now. The saga continues.