I've had an interesting few days. I finally think I broke out of the unproductive pre-departure funk that I've been in for the last few weeks. I've been helping the International Relations Department edit a proposal for the World Bank. The work's not actually all that exciting, but it's nice to be doing something a little different and I've been able to learn a bit about writing large grant proposals. . .which I feel like could be a useful skill to have. The editing process, however, can be pretty mind numbing at times. Especially when you've got a phrase like "contract disposal recieving providing documentations" to make sense of. . .

Speaking of mind numbing, I may have to cut this blog short because this cafe is playing increadibly loud techno music and it isn't the best writing music. . .rather than typing I find myself either wanting to pull out my hair in annoyance and frustration or dance. Son of a bitch. It feels like someones pounding a dance rhythm inside my head. . .every so often the music stops and some guy with a heavy German accent says: "I know--a girl--she looks--so fine" and then "I dream--of her--all--the time". And this song must have been playing for over 10 minutes soI don't understand how anybody can listen to this kind of music, much less think that it's a good choice of music to play in a cafe. A place that people go to sit and talk. . . .maybe I need to find another cafe. Another strange thing about this cafe is that it's now is playing some movie called Platoon Leader (most cafe's around here have at least one tv and they're always playing a movie of some sort) that's one of those "Nam" movies about "our boys" going in "the shit" which portrays the Vietnamese not as human beings but as "gooks". It's pretty surreal.

Today I went to the orphanage I work with. They organized a sort of party for Vietnamese "reunification" day, May Day, the first king's day, and my farewell all rolled into one. All of the admins of Hoi Tu Thien are former VC and they took turns telling what they were doing on April 30, 1975 (reunification day. . .the day the Americans left). Activities ranged from freeing prisoners, to getting freed, to killing buffalo for a feast, to persuading republican leaders to turn over power, and other similar activities. One of the old guys, Ba, was one of about 4000 political prisoners on Con Dao prison island when the US finally left. He said that he could hardly believe it when he was freed. Apparently the warden of the prison had planned to kill all of the political prisoners on the island in the event of a South Vietnamese defeat, but according to the story Ba told, a priest who lived on the island was able to persuade the warden to allow them all to live and the warden called off the mass execution at the last minute. When the prisoners were finally freed, Ba said that they had to pinch themselves, some people even drawing blood to make sure that they were awake and not dreaming or dead. Of course the prisoners on both sides were in pretty bad shap. Ba said that he went to Con Dao weighing 85 kilos (Ba's one of the biggest Vietnamese men I've seen of his generation) and left weighing only 60. . .which means that he lost about 60 pounds. Some of the men acually died when they ate their first meal because they had been starved for so long and their stomachs were shocked by the sudden reintroduction of real food. It was a little strange to listen to all of the old people reminisce about the day that my country left their country alone.

How long have you been here?

I couldn't guess how many times I've been asked this question in the last 20 months. Ban o day bau lau roi? I bet I get asked this question at least twice a day. About 60% of the time this question is followed up by con ban se o day bau lau nua? and how much longer will you be here? I kind of makes it impossible for the time to sneak up on me. It true that this year has flown by, but I can't very honestly say that I can't believe that I've only got a month left or wonder where the time went, because I have to reflect on exactly how much longer I've got over here on a daily basis. Right now I'm about 50% excited to be heading back to the States and start the long-ass process of going to medical school, about 50% depressed about leaving behind so many great things (Just today for example, I went out to the countryside and helped make banh canh--a kind of thick rice noodle soup made with coconut milk--from scratch on a wood stove, I had a beer with a farmer who invited me to come back sometime and go fishing, got caught in a monsoonal rainstorm on the way back to Can Tho and rode my motorbike through to storm wearing a massive poncho to keep me. . .sort of dry, went to a software store and realized that it was owned by a friend of mine who I play basketball with at the University, stayed and chatted for a few minutes and on the way home for the computer software store ran into two people I know on the street, went to the internet and found out that I have successfully gotten some funding for the orphanage I've been working with), and about 32% depressed that I haven't been able to accomplish more while I've been over here. I've still got a ton of stuff to do before I go, but I've been spending the last week spinning my wheels and not effectively getting anything done.

The real reason that I'm writing this blog. ..I only blog when there's something that I need to get off my chest . . . is that as long as I've been over here, I still can't seem to convince people that I know how to survive in Vietnam. I went to a restaurant for dinner. Just a small rice place. I started eating my dinner with a pair of chopsticks and the lady who served me my rice literally took the chopsticks from my hands and replaced them with a fork. I know that she was trying to be helpful, but this made me sooooo angry that I could barely finish my meal. It would have been one thing if she had suggested that I use a fork. . .I'm used to that, but she took the damned chopsticks away from me. I was denied chopstick privileges. I wanted toss my plate across the restaurant, go home, and cry myself to sleep. Fortunately I realized how stupid I was being before I made a fool out of myself. Instead I smiled and used the fork with a full fist like a barbarian and tried to get as much food as possible onto my lap. . . It's a good think I didn't make a fool out of myself. Now rather than thinking that I'm rude, they probably just think that I've got some sort of mental disorder, and after an episode like that. . .I've got to wonder. I think that the frustration comes from the fact that no matter how hard, or how long I try, I'll never be treated as a local. Of course I know that I'm not a local, but sometimes you just want to eat your rice with chopsticks--the way that feels the most natural to you-- and you don't want anyone to fuck with you.

Anyway, I feel better now.

So for those of you who are curious, I've been over here for about 18 months (from september 2006-now minus two months last summer), and I'm only going to stay for another month and a half.