silly me.

Sometimes I manage to worry or dread myself into quite a state about really silly, unnecessary things. I mean, I guess all worries are unnecessary, but some are more ridiculous than others. Including most of mine. Sometimes, I dread something and put it off for a long time and make it into this huge, terrible thing in my head; then when I finally get around to it, I am pleasantly surprised at how non-heinous it is.

Like tonight. To step back a few weeks, I have found myself coming off of a couple really incredible months in which I have honestly been loving life in Viet Nam, to a couple of weeks that have been inexplicably blah. So, I was already in an easily-annoyed mood.

My past few weeks of annoyance with life have been contributed to by my dear/aggravating bicycle, which has been struggling. Just the other weekend, I spent a whole morning finding a repairman and then getting my back wheel's tube replaced after having a perpetually flat tire, and yesterday--much to my annoyance--the flatness returned, even after the third time getting it pumped.

So the plan: take the bike to the MCC office, so that our guard can take it somewhere to get a tune-up while I am gone in India for a week (!!). The thing is, the only way I could figure out how to get the bike there was to walk it from my house, along the aptly-named "Smelly River." Now this walk--probably around 4 km, give or take some-- wouldn't be so bad for a strong girl like me. But have you ever walked a bike any distance before? Yeah, its annoying. Sometimes it even kicks you. And here, I expected that I would have an hour of "Allo!"s and stares to put up with--things that sometimes only make me laugh, but other days drive me crazy. And, given my recent history, I figured today was likely to be one of those other days.

Anyways, to make this already-long story short, I finally did it, and it just wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. As far as the catcalls go, I think I just got one compliment and one exclamation of "foreigner!!!" until I got to this one group of guys who really wanted me to come into their restaurant; but by that point I was able to just laugh off their comments (which were probably just responses to my height, white skin and "tall nose"--in other words, my astounding, exotic beauty--anyways).

Then, after dropping off my bike, I needed to find a xe om (motor taxi) home, because while I could have walked or ran, I really needed to pack. I found a group xe om men, and after some spirited bargaining and timely use of the walk-away tactic, I got one of them down from 50,000 (a truly ridiculous price) to 30,000. I was happy. And, of course, the men complimented me on my Vietnamese, which was really a load of BS considering that I had really only said the words "so expensive!", the name of my street, and a bunch of numbers, along with various noises of disgust. And considering that my Vietnamese really isn't good at all, as I've been reminded of a lot recently. However, these days I have been feeling particularly down about my lack of Vietnamese and--as a result--about my interactions with people, so I couldn't help but feel a little good about the encounter.

I realized two things. One, about the actual xe om bartering situation: so much is really just about confidence. I didn't speak Vietnamese well, but I was confident about the fact that the man's price was absurd. My dad gave me some advice recently that I have found to be profound. Paraphrased, it was something like this: sometimes the only way to gain confidence is to act like you are already confident. I'm not always good at living this out, but when I am, it often pays off.

The other thing was just how often I blow silly situations way out of proportion. Which is a lesson you would think I might have learned by now; clearly I still need reminders.

Anyways, remember how I said I had to get a xe om home so I could pack for India? Yeah, about that...

reverting back to my 10-year-old self

When I was in second grade, I was home-schooled for a year. During the first week of school, my teacher, Mr. Dad, assigned me reading homework: I had a week to read Laura Ingles Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods. To counteract the image any of you, my dear readers, may have of me as having always been a perfect student, allow me to present you with an alternative image: little Calah playing with her long braid as she explains to her dad on Sunday night how, although she hadn't finished the book as she was suposed to, she did, in fact, read a whole chapter! However, she never again had to plead her case, because from that point on, a book per week became a laughable minimum requirement.

When I was around ten years old, my family moved to the Navajo Reservation in Northeastern Arizona. We lived about a half hour's drive from my school, and there were few children my age on the hospital compund we lived on in Ganado, Arizona. I didn't have a lot of friends. However, while the first few years were difficult, I don't remember being lonely, per se. Mostly I just remember reading read all the time.

In college, I read plenty, but--as assigned reading and competitive running are
wont to do--was too exhausted during my breaks to do much reading for pleasure aside from the occassional, long-anticipated Harry Potter book. I must admit to some sadness at the fact that I, who had in some sense dedicated my life--or a chunk of it--to words, no longer felt a desire to read unless forced. Although that isn't entirely true--I often felt the desire to be swept away by a great story again, to stay up well past my bedtime reading a book I couldn't put down. But when I would try to pick up a book, there just wasn't any chemistry there.

Well, I'm pretty sure I've found the spark again. While I probably have more friends than my 10-year-old self, I seem to have reverted back to her habit of devouring any book she could get her hands on.

Last week I finished reading Outliers: The Story of Success, by Malcom Gladwell. I enjoyed the book, but the significance of this is not in the book itself, but in the fact that it is the twentieth book I have read in the almost eight months I have been in Viet Nam. Now, by my calculations, this is only 2.5 books per month--probably less than the weekly average of my 10-year-old self--but I still think that it is a significant number, even if some of them were on the short side. Whether or not you agree is irrelevant to me; I mention my twentieth book because reading has been a significant and very enjoyable part of my time living in Viet Nam. It has been at times an escape from loneliness, at times entertainment during periods of boredom (yeah, Mom, I know that word is not in the Bible, but sometimes I just can't find another word to describe it!), and at times a justification to myself for not watching MTV with my host sisters, just to name a few times.

Anyways, as no one but me is probably quite as excited about my entire "Books read in Viet Nam" list, I thought I would just mention a few of my favorites thus far:

The Bean Trees (Barbara Kingsolver): It's set in Arizona: automatic bonus points. I think I read this one in two days because it was so amazing. I don't really know why; it's just a good story, I guess, aside from being well written. If I was allowing myself to list multiple books by the same author, Animal Dreams would be here too, especially since that one is not only set in Arizona, but part of it takes place in Canyon de Chelly--around Christmas Day! (My family used to hike in Canyon de Chelly every Christmas Day!!!) Ok. I'm done with my AZ ad now. Don't be misled; The Bean Trees really is good in its own right, not just for Kingsolver's excellent choice of setting.

The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier and Clay (Michael Chabon): Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction (I forget which year), this book drew me in from the beginning. I thought the second half dragged a little, but what book this long doesn't at some point? In a nutshell, it's about two Jewish-American immigrant cousins who start a comic book whose superhero fights the Nazis. Hannah found this lying around our office and recommended it to me. We in turn recommended it to Ali. This is how it usually goes with our reading here--our book selection is limited, so we pass books around. Added bonus is that we get to discuss them afterwards!

Telling Secrets (Frederick Buechner): It might seem strange, given my previous statement about my limited literary selection, that I am in the middle of my fourth Buechner book. The explanation is simple: my Bible study leader is obsessed with Buechner and has a personal library that contains nearly every book he has ever written (a considerable sum). Buechner is a writer (obviously) and Presbyterian minister with a knack for elucidating the divine in the ordinary. Telling Secrets is the third of his four-part autobiography, and my favorite thus far. I haven't yet, but am interested to, pick up one of his novels. Actually might do that at Bible Study tonight...

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (Annie Dillard): You might ask how I escaped from the Calvin English Department without having read this. The answer would be that I shouldn't have...This is a book that demands time, something that I either didn't have or didn't allow myself when I was assigned it in English 101; thus, I was never quite able to understand my professors' awe of Dillard's long-winded account of her life in the forest. Here in Viet Nam, I had time to unravel Dillard's gorgeous, half-page sentences and more properly absorb the profundity she extracts from the fecundity (and other aspects) of nature. Ok, Schmidt and VanderLei, I get it now...

The Quiet American (Graham Greene): This book takes place in Viet Nam during the first Indochina War. It was fun to recognize the names of places and people, even if some of the war history went over my head. This book may have the effect of making you hate the fact that you are an American (if you are) for a couple days; but that's probably not a bad perspective to have now and then. If you're not much of a reader, it's been made into a movie that I hear is pretty good too.

The Chicago Manual of Style (The University of Chicago Press): This is not actually on my list because I can't claim to have read the whole thing (yet). However, I am ever more amazed by this orange book, which never ceases to brighten my day when I get the chance to use it. It resides just inches from my left hand all day at the office and gives helpful advice while recognizing the fact that an editor's work is often more of an art than a science (in Viet Nam it is often more along the lines of code-breaking). I must admit my nerdiness and the fact that I welcome editing questions just to have an excuse to open it, and then often get distracted from my work by perusing its pages. You think I'm joking, but I'm really not. Just ask Hannah.

So, where do I usually read these books? Often on my incredibly comfortable bed at home. Or on a bench by a lake (contrary to popular belief, these benches are useful for many things besides making out) or in a cafe during my ridiculously long (2 hour) lunch breaks.

So, what's next? Well, that's an interesting question on multiple levels. I just cracked open What Color is Your Parachute? a book my dad recommended the other week after we discussed this question in the context of my life. I can only hope that it might provide some insight...

(Note: I hope that none of you, like me, are always disappointed by things you hear rave reviews of. If you are, then I'd advise you to disregard my enthusiastic commentary about the above books, but check them out of the library anyway.)

xe may convert!

Last week, I got a rare treat: the opportunity to hang out with someone who has known me for more than 7 months! Much to her parents' dismay and my joy, I got to play host to my good friend from college, Ms. Mel Vanden Berg, who braved the hazards of jet-lag, severely lowered bank accounts, and heat-stroke to make her first trip outside the United States a trip to Viet Nam! :).

I realized right away that it was amazing to be with someone who knows me. But I also realized that living in Viet Nam for 7 months just might change a person, too. For instance, I have all these crazy words floating around in my head that make their way into my speech, disguising themselves among my English phrases as though they belong there. But--contrary to popular belief--only a minute percentage of the world's population speaks my variety of Vinglish, and Mel is not one of those people.

However, I knew that, even with my best attempts at speaking proper American English for a week, there were a few Vietnamese words that would slip their way in--they just can't help it anymore. So I figured I'd better teach Mel a few of the most essential words...Like xe may. In my head, a xe may is a xe may is a xe may..."motorbike" just doesn't cut it. What are those little, amazing machines--that any boy will tell you are not, technically speaking, motorcycles (something about the position of the engine...) and that can carry a ever-surprising number of people and cases of beer--that flood the streets of Viet Nam? Xe may. There is just no other correct term. So, I taught Mel the word. Two days later, we rented one for the day, and it didn't take her anything like the whole day to fall in love with this mode of transportation.

I think this was both of our favorite part of our trip to Hue (a city in central Vietnam): riding xe may at our leisure (which might sometimes have been as fast as possible) on this scenic loop between the perfume river and the China Sea:Yep, it was a struggle at times to keep my eyes on the road. But Mel was a very good passenger. She frantically grabbed my waist surprisingly infrequently.

When we got back to Hanoi, we also did a fair amount of driving around on xe may.
Usually in traffic like this:
However, we did managed to detatch ourselves from our xe may and do some other stuff while she was here. While in Hue, we wandered around the "ancient" citadel.


Hue was the royal capital of Vietnam during the time of the fuedal lords and French colonization, and this complex was built during that time, in the mid-1800s. After the revolution, these magnificent old buildings were seen as the vestiges of the "feudal regime" and were allowed to fall into ruin. Only relatively recently have they begun to be restored, and the citadel and its complex of idyllic gardens and temples is now considered a "must-see" in Vietnam.

In Hue, we also treated/subjected ourselves to hour-long beatings at a highly-recommended massage place. Yeah, wikitravel is straight-up wrong sometimes! Fortunately, the experience was theraputic in that we laughed about it all the way home (and it was a long walk!).

When we got back to Hanoi, we went to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum at night--something I've always wanted to do. It is lit up and really pretty, and there are always people milling around the perfectly manicured squares of grass in front of it (notice i said milling around--no one would ever, ever actually step on Uncle Ho's grass).

We ate supper with my host family at my house (sorry, it's hard to get all five storys in one picture, but you get the idea):

We did some really normal things, too--just Vietnam style. Like drink a lot of gorgeously cheap coffee. Another thing Mel got used to quickly (and learned the Vietnamese word for)--caphe nau da. Vietnamese iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk...

We even had a random Calvin XC reunion:

At the beginning of the trip, I asked Mel to point out things that she noticed and thought were crazy, because it's funny to see how many things I have gotten used to. On the first day she noticed that it's quite common to get one's hair cut by the side of the road, like this:

Then there was a funny moment when we were driving xe may on the highway, and I saw a sign that I couldn't figure out. Eventually, I did, though, and was shocked to realize that Viet Nam actually has speed limits--who would have ever guessed?! Mel reminded me that most people wouldn't have guessed--they would have actually assumed this. Oh. Right.

All-in-all, it was a great time. Totally worth the fact that my throat was hoarse from talking so much... :)

Mel, thanks for flying to the other side of the world to see me and then indulging my xe may obsession!

beauty in every season.

I saw the most beautiful thing on my way to work Friday morning:

Runners.
Real runners.
A team of real runners.

In contrast to the ones I see sometimes--the middle aged men in shiny gray business slacks and scarves, or matching, full-length, swishy warm-up suits and knock-off Converse shoes whose soles look like they give about as much support as a piece of paper lashed to the bottom of your foot--plodding around the lake at walking pace with a trace of the running form.

These men were wearing tiny running shorts, silky singlets, and racing flats. They were milling around, panting, on the corner of Hoan Kiem Lake under the scowl of their sweatsuit-clad coach, their shimmering skin highlighting the unbelievable fact that their quads had actual muscle definition. Suddenly, as though at the sound of a gun inaudible to anyone but these four men or as though pushed forward by a surge of adrenaline impalpable to the rest of us, they gathered together and surged forward, right hands grasping left wrists for an instant to push their stopwatch buttons before they settled into their pace, their legs nearly in unison as they rounded the corner. The signs were unmistakable; they were doing an interval workout around Hoan Kiem Lake.

I almost swooned...or fell off my bike from shock.

My first thought was: That is beautiful.
my second: Oh please, oh please can I join in your pain?

But, as I mentioned before, I was on my way to work. So I had to allow the momentum I siphoned from their mere presence to propel me through the remaining 5 minutes of my ride to work and content myself with an excited g-chat to Hannah and Ali, who could completely understand my surprise even if they couldn't begin to relate to my passionate longing.

Which is funny because when I first arrived in Viet Nam and was still forcing myself out the door to run nearly every morning, I hated it. I hated the smog and the traffic. The stares. The absurd amount of clothing I was expected to wear in the intense heat and humidity. Or maybe I was just ready for a break. For one of these reasons, or a combination of them all, or maybe the realization that I didn't have to do this for anyone else anymore or that I didn't want to run just out of fear of getting fat, I stopped.

Maybe my body has finally begun to miss the steady stream of endorphins it had become accustomed to receiving during the past 8 years. Or maybe I really do miss running. A lot. It will be interesting to see if I take this same perspective when, at some point in the future I find myself again in a place more suitable for running (or with less excuses not to), or in a place where I can find a group of people like the four beautiful runners at Hoan Kiem Lake have found that can keep my pattering footsteps company, and I excitedly lace up my Asics and step out the door and realize that...it hurts. More than I remembered.

Then we will see if I'm still swooning over the beauty of running, or if my quickened breathing is merely the result of my decreased lung capacity. Then, maybe I will be less quick to judge the people I see trudging along, exercising not because they enjoy it but because they should.

As for now, I guess I will take comfort in the famous verses I read from Ecclesiastes last week: For everything there is a season. And while I sometimes miss the last season and look forward to the next season, I am enjoying this season of life. Even if it means I don't get the personal satisfaction or other people's admiration for being A Runner, and feel slightly less comfortable donning my skimpy running shorts.

Especially since I can now admire the newly-discovered running men in theirs...

Last week I learned a new Vietnamese word: ngắm. It means to look, but is different than the other two words for looking that I already knew; this one is more along the lines of "to admire."

This morning I saw the runners again. Today it was around 70 degrees and lightly misting. What more could a runner ask for--except maybe an olympic-qualifying race to run in such glorious weather? They were wearing (only) tiny, highligher orange shorts. And, yeah, I did ngắm.

cambodia pictures!

Ok, I know it's been awhile, but here it is folks! Photographic evidence of my trip to Cambodia:

Cambodia Facebook Album

Be sure to read the captions. They are why the album took so long for me to post and also help to explain the pictures and our trip! Enjoy. :)

sometimes i forget that "happy monday" doesn't have to be an oxymoron.

This weekend I went on a lovely little over-nighter to Ba Vi Mountain. Highlights included:

1. Learning to drive and practicing driving motor bike!!! Probably my new favorite activity.
2. Discovering the best yogurt that Viet Nam has to offer (this area is famous for milk and yogurt).
3. Our group having our whole hotel to ourself. Seriously, the little village was practically deserted--pure bliss.
4. Fresh air and more natural nature than I have yet encountered in Viet Nam. It was like an oasis for my nature-thirsty soul...

But the ride home was typical of these sorts of excursions--a gradual procession into increasing noise, smog, traffic, and people...

I started to dread Monday.

But Monday came, as it is wont to do, and managed to shine through the Hanoi smog much more brightly than expected. It turned out to be a conglomeration of good things and feelings: it brought an unexpected number of long, loving, newsy emails; it brought an exciting surprise and something to look forward to; it brought gorgeous weather and time to sit outside and read on my lunch break while drinking amazingly cheap Vietnamese iced coffee; it brought that random, good day feeling of thankfulness. Mostly, it brought me to my knees with the realization that I should not spend so much energy dreading things.

Poor Mondays. They really can't help it.

summary: you are happy.

Regarding my trip to KAMPUCHIA, a friend asked this morning:

What was your favorite part?
My response. I think I said something about Angkor Wat and Western food. Well, that was honest, but here is the more accurate and more honest response to that question:
FREEDOM!!! (I'm just saying, it was nice to not have a curfew for a week.)

Or to put it another way:

Hannah, Ali, and I were walking down the streets of Siem Reap one night and a random tuk-tuk driver -- after propositioning us for a ride -- asked:
Why are you happy?
To which we answered:
Because we are on vacation!!!!

Or to put it another way: We like Vietnam but we simply needed a break.

Now the vacation is over. We arrived home safely this morning at 3 am (minor flight delays..). In response to the question:

Cam-pu-chia the nao (How was Cambodia)? from my co-workers, I respond:
Vui qua nhung rat met (Very fun but very tired.)

Here is a brief summary or a few notes to pique your interest:

Tet 2010 Trip:
When: Feb. 14-21
Who: Hannah, Ali, me. Also some random (great!) friends we met along the way. Also our MCC boss, Derek, and his family, who happened to be in Phnom Penh for Tet (Ana, Derek's wife, is Cambodian). Also, met up with some MCC Cambodia friends.
Why: We got a week off of work for the Lunar New Year. We heard about a big temple in Siem Reap we probably should see while we are in SE Asia (Angkor Wat). Better question: Why not?!
Where: Ho Chi Minh City. Phnom Penh. Siem Reap (Angkor Wat).
Modes of transportation: plane, bus (4x6 hrs.), tuk-tuk (cart pulled behind moto. see picture below).
Favorite activities: people watching (particularly guessing tourists' countries of origin and wondering how obvious ours was). eating. climbing stairs. getting to know each other (seriously. we told stories from our ancient history--i.e. middle school. it was fun to have lots of conversations that didn't start with "i don't know what to do in such-and-such situation with my host family.."). laughing. meeting random people. taking pictures. learning (we read aloud to each other from the Angkor Wat guide books). getting up early (well...maybe not favorite, but surprisingly non-heinous). shopping (silk scarves!)
Probable secondary activity: annoying everyone around us.
Primary mode of entertainment: ourselves.
Notable events: my birthday party on the plane, complete with decorations, food, and fun activities. naming our non-existent American band and taking melancholy/cool cover pictures.

or to summarize more briefly:

When we arrived at one of our destinations, our tuk-tuk driver said:

You are happy. You laugh a lot.

Case in point. (us and our Angkor Wat tuk-tuk driver)