...tales from a transient time.

The title of this post is the new subtitle of my blog. I changed it because it fits what I anticipate the next few months of my life to be--transient.

It started with leaving Viet Nam. After a few days of debriefing in Pennsylvania, I recieved many warm welcomes in Grand Rapids, MI, where I spent two weeks. I did all manner of things there--attended bachelorette parties and bridal showers, picked berries and baked, ran and swam, hung out with friends and family, watched the friends episodes about Chandler and Monica's wedding and participated in the actual beautiful wedding of one of my best friends. The whole time I was in Grand Rapids, I was waiting for the infamous reverse culture shock to attack, but felt strangely lacking in anything like it--other than the occasional need to stop myself from slipping in a bit of random Vinglish. Everything seemed pretty much just as I left it; in fact, sometimes I started to wonder if I had ever left.

Then, after a crazy, nonsensical bit of traveling (Michigan to Denver via car, then a flight to Alamosa), yesterday afternoon I arrived safely--albiet tiredly--to Rainbow Trout Ranch in Southern Colorado. It seems like a great place, but has honestly been pretty overwhelming so far. As I'm coming in in the middle of the season, training is less formal and more the on-the-fly, watch-other-people-out-of-the-corner-of-my-eye type. Last night I had my first try at country line dancing and today I've learned how to do daily cabin cleaning. People are friendly, but as with job training, making friends is a little more challenging when entering into an already established group (and I guess being an introvert doesn't exactly help).

Work aside, I'm incredibly excited to be back in the Southwest! This part of Colorado is gorgeous, cool (for me, actually cold!), quiet (other than my co-workers), and unpopulated to the point that most Vietnamese would probably consider every venture highly dangerous. I, personally, am appreciating the danger, and am eagerly anticipating the horseback riding I hope to do on my first day off.

However, in case you are doubtful of my description of Colorado as idyllic to the point to the point of perfection, there are a few earthly things about the heavenly place. For instance, I couldn't wear my contacts all morning because my eyes were burning, assumably due to the dry climate, which is particularly shocking to my system after the tropical climate of Viet Nam. I find myself embarassingly out of breath when I merely walk from cabin to cabin in this 9,000 ft. altitude, and on the twenty-minute run I took today, I re-encountered the weird, coppery taste I used to always get in my mouth on runs, as well as the now-unfamiliar burning sensation that takes over my legs when they encounter hills. This was not completely terrible, though; it brought back great memories from my high school cross country days in Arizona.

So I guess all-in-all, the transient life seems to be treating me pretty well. (If nothing else, I am eating very well.) When I told one of my old friends about my schedule until the new year, he responded, "Oh, so you're still avoiding the real world." I won't deny the fact that this statement irked me to no end, even though it is not the first time I have encountered such a response. I guess I can see where these people are coming from in one sense, but in another, I rebel against this notion of the "real world." Who's to say what's real and what's not? I have experienced one part of the world that my friend will probably never experience, but just because the experience is foreign to him does not make it unreal. And what is reality but learning and interacting with others?

I won't deny that the transient lifestyle I am leading for a time is a priviledge that many people do not have the chance to experience--either because they actually can't or simply won't. However, this fact just makes me want to appreciate every bit of it more. Don't get me wrong, transience is rarely as glamorous as people think--it's often lonely and usually looks a lot like...well, the "real world."

When I bid my friend farewell, I told him to have fun with the real world. And that's what I aim to do too. Because, really, that's about all any of us can do. :)

mixed emotions

Today, I embark on a 36-hour-long journey back to the States. How do I feel? Everything!! Over the past few weeks and days, my strongest feelings were born of survival mode: I just wanted it to be over with. I wanted the packing to be done, the overweight bags, the heavy gifts that make the bags even more overweight, the goodbyes. I wanted to speed time up and then disappear like Harry Potter putting on his invisibility cloak.

However, there have been multiple times over the last few weeks when I have wondered why I am leaving. Times like these:

Watching Eclipse with Hannah, Ali, and Co Giang, our wonderful Vietnamese teacher!

Pizza and nem with our MCC coworker and surrogate mother, Co Bay!

Trying one last type of street food...

Watching the World Cup with Hannah's wonderful host family.

One last coffee date with Bac at his cafe next to our office.

Drinking iced sugarcane juice with the girls--so glad I don't have to say goodbye to them yet!

But now it's here and I am mostly excited, but also nervous. How difficult will it be to readjust to life in the States? Sometimes, I think that the adjustment can't be so bad; I mean, my life here has been pretty normal, really...

Then I realize what I have just thought and think: You thought this place was crazy when you first got here, Calah. Now you think it's normal. Yep, you've got an adjustment ahead!

But the things that I'm most worried about aren't whether I will remember how to drive a car or cross a street, but the less tangible things: Will everything be different? How have I changed? Will I find that I have changed so much that I am awkward with my old friends? Will it be difficult to share what I have learned and experienced? Will I ever get a job? Will I be lonely? Will everyone demand concrete answers to those questions that are so easy to ask but so much harder to answer--What did you take away from your year in Viet Nam? What did you accomplish?

Ugh.

But even with the anxiety, I am excited. I am excited about seeing family and friends and eating homemade wheat bread. But I am also excited about the plans I have for the next six months, because I have lots...

That I'll talk about in my next post. :)

See you in the States!!!
*Note: I tried to post this before I actually left Viet Nam, but was thwarted multiple times. Now, I am posting it from the lobby of a hotel in Las Angeles.... Yep! You know that 36-hour-trip I was just talking about? Make that 50 hours!! Fortunately, Ali, Hannah and I are pretty good at amusing ourselves. And, there is free breakfast coming right up! :)

visa!

I finally got my Visa! It's all official--stuck in my passport and everything. My first thought after the initial feeling of immense relief as I attempted to read it was, kind of a lot of work for a little sticker, half of which I can't even read (yet!)? Ah, well, I'm very relieved to have it.


As I gazed at my visa, it really hit me; I'm leaving...SOON! I have one more week here in Texas before I leave for three weeks of visiting people I love in Michigan and Chicago, then I'm off to Akron, Pennsylvania for orientation.

When I tell people that I am going to Viet Nam, I usually get one of two responses:

1) "Oh, that's great! That will be such an amazing experience...I'm a bit jealous." etc.
or
2) "Viet Nam? Why would you want to go there?" accompanied by a shiver and look of mingled surprise and horror.

Today, however, I got a different question from the man who helped me at the post office. He asked, "Are you or your husband in the service, then?" For those of you who know me well, this question is funny for two reasons.

The other day, my supervisor at the library asked me how I wasn't more nervous about the prospect of Viet Nam. Then he answered his own question, "Well, I can tell you're just not the worrying type."

The funny thing is that that's really not true at all. I'm the queen of worrying. I worry that I will never get a job, that I will lose touch with all my friends, that I'll never get married, that I will get married, that I am out of shape, that I won't be able to walk in 20 years. After I order the chocolate peanut butter ice cream, I worry that I will wish I had gotten the raspberry sorbet. You name it, I've worried about it.

But somehow, I'm just not that worried about Viet Nam. I have had my moments of anxiety, for sure. I am quite nervous about learning the language. I'm afraid that everything I have bought in preparation will be wrong. I'm afraid all my friends will move on without me. But my general feeling about the trip is mounting excitement.

The other day I began to worry, wondering whether I should be more worried about my trip. I wondered if I have skated over the imminent hardships--loneliness, heat and dripping humidity, new job, strange food, unfamiliar everything--and have lulled myself into a false sense of security. I came to the conclusion, however, that I really don't need to find more things to worry about. I think there is a reason that I am not overly apprehensive about my upcoming adventure, that reason being that this is what I am supposed to do. Maybe not forever, but for now. I am sure that there will be times when it will be difficult. I will be lonely, confused, and overwhelmed.

However, regardless of all that, I think that my sense of peace about this venture comes from the fact that I am convinced, as was Julian of Norwich, that, All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

shopping list

On Saturday, my mom and I went shopping for clothes appropriate for me to take to Viet Nam. We headed to the outlets just outside of Austin, excited to spend the day together even though neither of us particularly enjoys shopping--only a slight understatement. For me, of course, my aversion to shopping is only exacerbated by my poor decision-making skills, for what is shopping other than one long series of decisions? (although I guess if I'm going there, I could ask another, more depressing question: what is life other than one long series of decisions?)

However, this is not meant to be a tirade against shopping--although I could mount the soapbox to preach against the ills of consumerism and the unfortunate cost (measured in both time and money) of a pair of pants that actually fits--it was a fun day, all in all, and, considering that I will soon (in exactly 2 months yesterday) be so far away that, if you wanted to visit me, it wouldn't really matter if you chose to go east or west (one less decision for people like me), a day with my mom is priceless. So what is this meant to be? A reminder that you do learn something every day...even if it is only all the things you don't know.

As we alternated between the blinding, 100 degree Texas toaster and frigid shops that, no matter how classy, insisted on jarring their customers' brains with racy rap, I wondered why decision making--always so difficult for me--was even harder today.

It is slightly easier to shop when you have some knowledge of what's coming. I remember how the decisions of those milestone shopping trips in the past were colored by past experience, or at least by some idea of what to expect:

Back-to-School: "Dress code is the same as last year. There's only so many colors of solid polos to choose from."
Senior Prom: "I want to look good but not get a lecture about modesty from Sr. so-and-so this year."
Off-to-College: "Dorm rooms all contain the same main component--limited space."
Grocery Shopping: "Ice cream."

Saturday was different. I know where I'm going on August 15th; however, I have no idea what to expect. This makes knowing what to buy difficult; emotional preparation....well, emotional; comfort, impossible.

While I crossed some items off my shopping list on Saturday, it actually triggered more questions than purchases.

Shopping list:

shoes: How far will I live from work? Will I walk, or bike, or take public transportation, or...?
dress for formal occasions: How short is too short?
shorts for running (unfortunately, probably not synonymous with "running shorts": How do people exercise in Viet Nam? Or do they simply live less sedentary lives than most Americans (by no means a difficult feat)?
cardigan sweater: Apparently, it can get cold during Viet Nam winters. 40-50 degrees--Michigan spring?
Chicago Manual of Style: A trusty, versatile tool essential to any variety of editing. Good, because I have no idea what sorts of manuscripts I'll be editing at the Gioi!
presents for host family: Who are they? According to Derek, MCC Viet Nam Coordinator, some member of my family should speak some English.
lunch: Should I learn how to use chopsticks?

As I anticipate my departure date, my list of things to buy and do gets--slowly--shorter, but my list of questions grows longer, my excitement mounts, and my suppressed nerves scratch away at my stomach. But I can comfort myself with the thought that, surely if I can survive a whole day of shopping in Texas, I can survive anything. If I don't know anything else (and clearly, I don't know much), I do know that I have never before been able to so fully appreciate the saying "expect the unexpected."