Ha Long will this blog be???

Ok, so back to Ha Long Bay... Where to begin??? Let me start by saying something. (I feel like most of my blogs come with disclaimers...) The one lesson I've learned from traveling aroung the world is this: The world is amazing and full of cool stuff, but it's never as cool or as breathtaking as you think it will be. Now indulge me as I wax philosophical:

My thoughts are as follows: Americans are spoiled by Hollywood. Take any adventure movie - Indiana Jones, Tomb Raider, Bon Voyage Charlie Brown! - and you will see beautiful, exotic scenery that appears remote and larger-than-life, what-have-you. Ok, so I'm kidding about Charlie Brown, but he did go to France in that one... My point is we see these movies and get an idea in our head that is a little mas grande than real life. A beautiful example is a comment made by my new friend and team mate, Erin Gripper. In our taxi on the way home from Highland's Coffee (so good!) Erin was telling Megan and me about going to Egypt. She said the pyramids were, "very cool but not as big as I'd thought they'd be." That's a fair sentiment, I think. Honestly I expected her to say something like, "It was the coolest thing ever!", but the more I thought about her response the more it made sense to me. It's really easy to make something on film or in pictures seem larger than life or more exotic or more remote, and then when you show up you find out that it's really not any bigger than a warehouse and there are tourists running around everywhere and, "Oh look! A Starbucks!"

So, back to Ha Long Bay. I went into this expecting less than what was offered, and I honestly still came up short. I'll have to explain what I mean, and in all honesty I want to be fair. It's a part of the coast east of Hanoi (in the North) where there are literally over a thousand of limestone islands of various shapes and sizes. Some are as small as half a football field, while others are miles in diameter. Most are jutting sharply and steeply out of the water. The pics below was taken by my friend Berkeley, a teacher going to Laos. In fact many of these are his 'cause he has a killer camera and mine camera went dead after the first night.

As you can from these and the one in my previous post (that pic was actually mine) there is some really cool geology/geophraphy to check out aroung the place. Here are a couple more to give you an idea of what it looks like:

So the one on the left is Berk's pic. Mine on the right here is a view from our boat. More on that later..... I have to go to bed. I'm a little under the weather and just took a couple nyquil. They're kicking in big time. Next time I'll put up some more cool pics and talk about how my disclaimer ties in to Ha Long Bay. There will also be some funny commentary via me as our bizaro tour guide.

Grace and peace!

Ha Long Bay

Last weekend my team took a little trip to one of Vietnam's natural wonders. I'll have to tell you more about it soon because something just came up, but I'm gonna go ahead and post this and get back on here later for full disclosure.

In the small things...

****DISCLAIMER***
The main purpose of my blog is to communicate with whatever poor sap accidentally stumbles upon it (my apologies in advance). One function of this blog is to let people back home know what's going on with me, specifically about exciting news and positive themes and encouragment concerning the work here in Cambodia. Other posts will not be so cheery. I fully intend to write down some of the bad stuff too, for it is both the bad and the good that constitute our short lives in this fallen world. Out of the bad comes Hope. In desperation Redemption comes. That is the message I've brought with me from home; why should it be any different here? If you are one of my supporters I want you to know you are supporting a real human being who has bad days sometimes, but I'm here and I'm more convinced than ever this is where I'm supposed to be right now. I'm not going anywhere, and in the mean time you get to read ALLLLL about it! :0)

I've spent the past few days pining away in my own bubble of cultural depresssion. I miss home. I miss good food. I miss my gym. My body has been attacked by Southeast Asia and it's fighting back, albeit a losing battle. The memories of my family are being relegated to further and further back in the ole brain, and this time around there won't be any going home in a month or two for a refresher. A group of 18 that three weeks ago were relative strangers have now become my only friends, coworkers, and classmates. I've come to love many of them and value their friendship; they are a refuge of community and like-mindedness in an onslaught of crazy. There exists little doubt I'll continue to stay in touch with many of them in the years ahead and will see them on the other side of Glory, yet two weeks from now has a sad goodbye in store as some go on to Laos and other parts of Vietnam while my three team mates and I go on to Cambodia.

I've been shocked how small things are what make me miss home most, and how the small things are fueling culture shock. Today a random smell (and there are plenty here) reminded me of my parents' living room, the mental image of which brought a hundred sights, sounds, and memories to mind. It could be a play of light on the sidewalk, or the sound of traffic that reminds me of Mobile. A young child playing with a toy car might remind me of my godson Bailey, or the laughter of someone on the street might pass for my brother's laugh.


It's almost impossible to handle crazy without wanting to share it with your friends. ("Crazy" is my new noun for the week, and yes I know it's not really a noun.) If you're having trouble with this vicariously, imagine you're driving by a corn field, see aliens land, stop, meet them, they look cross-eyed at you and leave. What's your first inclination??? You want to tell people, of course! I'm not yet sure if I believe in aliens, but Vietnamese people are coming close enough lately. And when they throw crazy at me all I want to do is tell someone back home. It's usually Craig, sometimes Kristen, although I tend to want to spare her somewhat as she'll be experiencing all of this for the first time soon enough. (Love you babe!)Unfortunately I can't tell anyone except through this blog.... GET ON SKYPE, CRAIG!

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, it's the little things that make the difference in life. My dad always told me that if you paid attention to the little things that you'd get the big things right. Great inductive advice from a guy who is great at the small things, that's for sure. Or is it deductive? I can't remember which one, anyway... It was a little thing that brought me out of my stupor of culture shock this evening and put me back on track, returned to me the perspective and focus I so desperately needed. And you probably thought this was going to end negatively, didn't you? Maybe next time...



It all started when Ben and Andrea, whose blog is linked to the right here, suggested we go out tonight for Chinese dumplings. I'm a fool for Chinese dumplings and didn't have to think about my answer. As is typical with the group of teachers here, our small trio turned into a sextuplet which snowballed into the 8 or 9ish range... We piled on a crowded bus and headed for a tried-and-true Chinese dumpling street restaurant. Once there we realized the menu was all in Vietnamese and Chinese - strike one and two. My phrase book didn't provide much assistance. Frustrations built. To stall for time we ordered drinks (coke translates well in most cultures). I frantically tried to translate the menu to make sure we got pork dumplings instead of squid and rice....



That's when it happened... Andrea asked for a coke and an ice water, so I quickly spat out the order at the lady with too much forcefulness and very incorrect intonation. The waitress looked at me with just the right amount of annoyance to say, "You don't have to be a jerk." Suddenly, despite the absence of words, I saw the light through that well-deserved disdain. Here we were - a group of five dumb, illiterate Americans demanding drinks and hopelessly and quite erroneously making blind jabs at this young lady's national language. It's not her fault we can't speak her language in her city (even if it full of crazy). She can't help it if we don't know the difference between dumpling and toilet paper in Vietnamese. And she certainly hasn't done anything to warrant impolite customers.




Oh, if I could only tell you what good that proverbial slap-in-the-face did for me in that moment. As I wallowed in my abject shame, our friend and classmate Steven came up just in the nick of time. He and his wife Joelle have been here for 6 months studying language, and he was able to help us order our food. Plate after plate of, in my opinion, the best food in Asia came pouring out from this little street kitchen. There's something perfectly inviting and comforting about Chinese dumplings. It's the same quality shared by macaroni or spaghetti or french fries... I suppose it must be the simplicity of these meals that makes them so appealing, their very nature reassuring us that everything will be ok, just take one more bite. Even the utensils - essentially, two dowel rods - are the epitome of simple function - no bells and whistles. It's the little things...


I'm sure I sound ridiculous, but who cares? Who knew that something as basic as steamed dough and meat could do so much for this ethnocentric American guy, wallowing in his self pity? Dumplings taught me a lesson today about the small things. They often matter most. I'm thinking the tongue here, mustard seed maybe, or heck even ordering a coke in Vietnamese. The small things constitute life, and now, thanks to a little dumpling, I'm ready to get on with mine again.

Life today is like a Michael Buble song...

When I think of songs I think of days past when I felt like a particular song or was listening to it. I have really vivid memories from odd times simply because of particular songs linked to the memory. But I'm not writing about the hypothoses of sensory input assocation. I just want to say - today I feel like that Michael Buble song "Home." Only, I'd have to say I probably feel more like the country version since I'm thinking of home - Alabama. The funny thing is I hate that version with all my being, but right now I'd cut off a finger to be in my truck driving down Wilmer Rd. listening to it. Go figure...

Especially relevant is the line, "Maybe surrounded by a million people I still feel alone, and let me go home. Oh, I've got to go home." There are way too many people in Hanoi. The commies should redistribute some population or something. I mean if you're gonna be communist then why not take advantage of it, you know what I'm saying? (Ok. I'm not totally serious, and no disrespect intended to the government of Vietnam. You reading, guys???)

The problem is really not food or the heat. I miss my family; I miss my girlfriend. I want to hold her and be with her, yet I can't. It's like the adult version of a kid who wants to have the new toy more than anything, but daddy keeps saying, "No."

I miss my brother, and I hate not being able to hear about his first experiences in college. He'll be fine; I'm not sure I will sometimes.

Now I'm thinking of a Derek Webb song, and it's so good I'm gonna put the whole thing on here. Please read it:

As I survey the ground for ants

Looking for a place to sit and read

I'm reminded of the streets of my hometown How they're much like this concrete that's warm beneath my feet

And how I'm all wrapped up in my mother's face

With a touch of my father just up around the eyes

And the sound of my brother's laugh

But more wrapped up in what binds our ever distant lives

But if I must go

Things, I trust, will be better off without me

But I don't want to know

Life is better off a mystery

So keep'em coming these lines on the road

And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load

And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise

And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes

Hometown weather is on TV

I imagine the lives of the people living there

And I'm curious if they imagine me

Cause they just wanna leave; I wish that I could stay

But I get turned around

And I mistake some happiness for blessing

But I'm blessed as the poor

Still I judge success by how I'm dressing

So I'll sing a song of my hometown

I'll breathe the air and walk the streets

Maybe find a place to sit and read

And the ants are welcome company

And you know what? I couldn't say it better...

I'll be ok. Grace my feet and faith my eyes... Bring it on, Hanoi. Bring - it - on.

A closing thought for the day...

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word!

What more can He say than to you He hath said,

To you who for refuge, to Jesus have fled?

In every condition, in sickness, in health;

In poverty’s vale, or abounding in wealth;

At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea,

As thy days may demand, shall thy strength ever be.

Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed,

For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;

I’ll strengthen and help thee, and cause thee to stand

Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathways shall lie,

My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;

The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,

I will not, I will not desert to its foes;

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

Off the chart: How to fit road rage and Mexican food into your Southeast Asian Worldview

There are moments in life when the unexpected happens. We could all agree on that, right? We take the unexpected as it comes and, usually without conscious thought, assimilate it into our worldview. Por ejemplo, you find yourself caught up in a bank robbery. The thief gets caught, like they all do, and you come out of the situation unscathed. You go home a little shaken up but none the worse for wear. Now, you have to fit that situation into your worldview in order for it to make sense.

"Well, I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

The above statement implies you have a worldview based on fate and not one of providence. The latter would say,

"I guess there was a reason for what happened today, even if I can't see it now!"

Why am I talking about worldviews and the unexpected? Well, today was a fun day in Hanoi. The Farnums (picture on the way) had Team Lao and Team Cambodia over for Mexican food tonight. The Farnums are ELI team leaders here in Hanoi and have been serving as hosts - more appropriately, babysitters - for us trainees. They let us do laundry, show us around town, hold our hands across the street, etc. Aparently their house help can cook Mexican, so Erin Gripper (more about her and others later) dropped a less than subtle hint and, BINGO, dinner date for Thursday night (tonight) for Team Lao and Team Cambodia. Team Vietnam had already been over for Mexican, so they weren't invited.

So......

Ben Peters and his lovely and pregnant wife Andrea, Berkeley Shorthill Ph.D., Erin Gripper, Sarah Price, Melissa Tucker, and I piled into a seven-passenger van and headed for the Farnums. (Yes, there were eight of us).

On the way, our taxi driver... Wait... Lemme back up... There is a typhoon hitting Vietnam right now. It's name is Kummuri or something like that, and it's probably not a typhoon anymore. It just looks like a typical stormy day on the Gulf Coast, actually. So anyway our taxi driver was driving in the bad weather and accidentally bumped (barely nudged more like it) a moto at an intersection. The driver looks at his bike, looks up at us, looks at his bike again, gets off, comes over to the drivers side, we all hold our breath, the guy yanks the door open, cusses the driver, slaps him, and slams the door....

Excuse me! Waiter? A round of heart palpitations for me and my friends please!

Moving on from that adventure... wait... I need to say that I wanted to slap the jerk, because our tiny little taxi driver (couldn't have been more than 20 years old) was so embarrassed. I could tell. He just sat there and took it and didn't look left or right. I wanted to cream the guy on the moto, and I wished I could say, "Don't worry about it!" in Viet.

Ok, moving on from that adventure we arrived at the Farnums, and this part will be really short: WE ATE THE BEST MEXICAN FOOD I'VE EVER HAD. PERIOD.

So, upon reflection, I want to say that life throws you curve balls sometimes. I mean, homemade tortillas and guacamole and road rage were not on the agenda for today. How does one begin to process Mexican food, nay, outstanding Mexican food in Hanoi, Vietnam??? Much less during a typhoon.... I might point out that all this is taking place while my friends and family are asleep in bed on the other side of planet Earth, the implications of which I'm still unable to process. I think I need some tylenol.

I suppose the answer to my questions is found in knowing that, in our lifetime, little is left that is truly remote. I would also add that the more I'm around people of other cultures the more I'm struck by similarities rather than differences. Road rage? Could be Mobile, Alabama; could be L.A. or D.C. or, heaven forbid, Hanoi, Vietnam.

So what do you do with Mexican food in Hanoi??? You eat it, of course, and lots of it, and you don't ask questions.

Bryant

Hi from Hanoi

The following was an assignment here in Hanoi for one of my grad classes:

Bryant Meredith
Reflective Journal: Entry 3, “Free Write About 1st Week In Hanoi.”
August 4, 2008

It’s very difficult to qualify in writing what one experiences in a culture plunge such as this. I use that phrase for lack of better description. Cliché references such as cross-cultural experience and international experience are both annoying and inadequate. Here’s a word picture:

Imagine standing at the edge of a creek. You’re at the bottom of a wide valley between two large peaks that converge somewhere in the distance. It’s a summer day, and the valley is filled with warmth and life. Staring at the creek, you visually follow its course up the valley and see it emerge from underneath a glacier that has descended from the mountain and is kissing the edge of the valley. You’ve been hiking all day and are hot and tired and the creek looks so inviting. You can see smooth pebbles lying at the bottom of pristine water, and it’s so easy to imagine how wonderful they’d feel on your feet while refreshing water cascades over your tired shoulders.

Unable to take it any longer, you drop your heavy pack and strip. Feeling a little vulnerable you quickly jump in… Breathless, in pain, unable to speak or scream you quickly scramble for the edge. Water cold as fresh snow slaps you in the face. Suddenly you realize your mistake - the glacier sourced this water, and as inviting as it looked it would always be numbingly freezing. Once at the shore you realize that some of the shock has worn off. It slowly becomes easier and easier to enjoy the water, yet you eventually will have to return to the shore for warmth and a recharge if you want to continue to enjoy the creek.

That is a real experience that somewhat compares to my initial impressions of S.E. Asia. I’m thinking back to my first trip to Phnom Penh in 2002. Being here in Hanoi reminds me of that initial impression and shock I experienced. There are things here that are simply no longer unfamiliar and shocking, and then there are things that will always continue to surprise and “slap me in the face” like a cold shower or like jumping into the glacier creek. Many naïve presumptions and wistful expectations were soon dashed to pieces during my first week in Phnom Penh that year, much like the hiker jumping into the inviting creek in the valley.

I expected Asia to be far more rural and less modern. Part of me expected a quainter Asia like I had seen in movies. I expected to be bathing at a well or in a river and sleeping in a bamboo hut (actually I did sleep in a bamboo house for awhile) and communing with workers in the rice fields. Imagine my surprise when, on the night-time drive from the airport in Phnom Penh, I saw billboards advertising Ovaltine, and asphalted streets with painted lines, and ice cream shops, and neon signs on cell phone shops. When I reached the house of the Khmer family with whom I stayed, I was floored to see semi-normal beds and a western toilet and tiled floors and chairs and a sofa.

Despite these similar conveniences I also encountered the cold-water slap through things like constant, unabated heat, “dirty” surfaces and environments, filthy smells, bad meals with no recourse to familiar food (there was not a selection of Western food in P.P. back then), and annoying Asian habits 24/7 for which I was not prepared. I lived with a Khmer family, and they were not terribly concerned with the fact that I was American and might do things a little different, leading to some very awkward moments.

My first week in Hanoi has certainly been a catalyst for a flood of memory. The sights and smells of S.E. Asia are intoxicating. I often say this when asked what the place is like. “It’s intoxicating!” I tell them. Usually this elicits weird responses and facial expressions, but that’s the truth about my impression. S.E. Asia invokes emotions that, in me, feel guttural and deep and lusty and alive and powerful, as though I’m here for a purpose and here doing what I was meant to do. Life here feels like life ought to feel, not like the packaged and commercialized theme park ride that we call Life in America. Rather it feels like you might actually have to exert some effort and take some risks and live on the edge a little…. Alive for the first time… Living life at last…