Classes and picnics

So the school year has officially begun for freshmen, which means that I (Steven) have actually started teaching. It's been a kick so far (though a bit exhausting, to tell the truth).

I teach three different classes that each meet twice a week for an hour and a half. One of my two speaking-focused classes is a group of English majors who are also teachers-in-training. The students in this class were required to have the highest English exam scores of everyone, thus they tend to be the most proficient (the word 'proficient' is used rather loosely in this case.) I have another class of 'general studies' English majors, who are studying English and nothing else. I teach them the same speaking lessons as the teachers-in-training, but their overall English level is a little lower. Finally, I teach a mix of reading, writing, speaking and listening to one class of students majoring in Vietnamese Studies. These are students who never chose to study English in the first place, but are required to take two semesters' worth for their major. The majority of these students would be classified as beginners--low, low, low level.


Part of the difficulty that all of my students have with understanding English is due to the fact that they all most likely studied grammar (and little else) in their high school English classes. While they might be able to read a sentence and tell me whether it's in the simple past or the past perfect tense, some of them don't understand when I ask them even simple questions like "What is your name?"

It's kind of a fun challenge teaching students who are starting from very little or no knowledge of the (spoken) language whatsoever. You can ask me in a few months how much progress has been made...

In other news, we were invited to go to a picnic this weekend with one of Jason's classes from last semester. We ended up at a beach a few miles out of town and got to participate in some fun picnic games, which included dividing into two teams and seeing which one could start a fire and cook the meat for lunch the quickest. (Our team won. Though anyone concerned about food safety might question the wisdom of seeing who can cook any meat product 'the fastest.')


Joelle and I also experienced a Vietnamese first: Being asked by a class to sing them a song. We were warned that this is inevitable, and sure enough after the sandwiches were finished, the requests started coming. The four of us foreigners managed to croak our way through a couple different songs, both of which were met with somewhat confused looks and delayed applause from the students. (If we'd really wanted to bring down the house we would have had to have busted out Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On and we simply weren't prepared to do that.)

Though Joelle and I didn't really know any of the students, we were warmly welcomed and had a great time with them all. You can check out our whole photo album of the picnic here.

The Month in Review

The unexpected freedom we've had in the past month (due to the start of classes being delayed for military training) is about to come to an end. I got my schedule yesterday and it does indeed appear that the university expects me to start teaching on Monday (how dare they!) Before things get too busy, we thought it would be nice to take a look back at our first month or so in Quy Nhon and hit some of the highlights. It's been a time of preparation, adjustment and fun. The biggest changes between life in Quy Nhon and Hanoi have been the opportunities for outdoor recreation (very little about Hanoi makes you want to go outside, while Quy Nhon virtually begs you to) and the chances we've had to get to know students. Our highlights are focused largely on those two aspects…

Highlight 1: Lunch
One of the students we've gotten to know best so far is a third-year English major who had foreign teachers in the past and decided they were fun to hang out with. He's become Steven's personal 'exercise buddy,' joining him for jogs on the beach and swimming at least a couple afternoons each week. He's different from most university students in that, for about ten years of his life, he was a Buddhist monk. This makes for some pretty interesting conversations, as he has thought deeply about many issues that don't even occur to most people his age.

Although he no longer lives at the pagoda or wears the robes, he's still vegetarian. One day he invited us over for a vegetarian lunch at his apartment—a single, tiny room that he shares with his cousin. Though they had to cook on the floor with a single-burner stove and borrow dishes from the neighbors, he and his cousin prepared us a delicious lunch of tofu, veggies, eggs, noodles, and soup, topped off with some fruit and soy milk. It was pretty clear that he had gone far out of his way to buy the best ingredients he could afford, as we were the first foreigners he had ever cooked a meal for. It was a very heartfelt gesture, and one which we hope to return in the near future.

Highlight 2: The Mountain
Though this might sound silly, one of the things we love about Quy Nhon is the presence of un-flat land. After six months in the frying-pan flat environment of Hanoi, it's so refreshing to see hills (or, as some flatlanders might call them, mountains). One such mountain is visible right out our apartment window. It's the highest one in view for a long ways around; according to Google Earth it's around 1700 ft. above sea level, which is a decent climb by anyone's standards. It also has what appears to be a giant soccer ball sitting on top of it—some kind of space-age communications thingy. Naturally, we weren't in town more than a couple weeks before we had to climb it.

We started in the late afternoon, once the side of the mountain was in the shade (VERY important), riding our bikes until the climb became ridiculous. From there we hoofed it up a nicely paved but crazy steep road that climbed right for the summit. Along the way we came across groups of people camped out in the woods, apparently replanting trees on the recently-logged hillside. They looked at us as if we had just beamed down from the planet Xorthrax. What on earth were a couple of foreigners doing climbing a mountain for fun??

The higher we climbed, the more the view opened up below. We were able to see the whole city of Quy Nhon laid out on its little finger of sand below, surrounded by ocean, rice fields and rugged green hills. As we neared the top we found the remains of several pillbox gun emplacements and realized that the well-built road we had climbed was likely thanks to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. The U.S. (which had a significant presence in Quy Nhon back in the 1960s and early 70s) had rightly felt that this was a strategic piece of ground. The dilapidated little concrete bunkers gave a kind of surreal feel to the place, looking more like the fallen watchtowers of an ancient civilization than remnants of the 60s.

Soon the shadows started to lengthen and we had to turn for home. On our way down past one of the tree planters' camps, an old lady with about half her teeth left came running out to meet us on the road. Grabbing Joelle's arm and using a mix of English, French and Vietnamese she invited us to join her camp for dinner ("An com! Dinner! An com!" she urged us.) When we explained that we had to get down from the mountain before dark, she asking us the requisite personal questions (How old are you? Are you married? Why don't you have any children?) and let us go with a smile.

For a complete photo album of our hike, click here.

Highlight 3: The Beach
Quy Nhon is a beach city. The fact that most of the town seems to be built on an oversized sandbar at the mouth of a lagoon contributes to this atmosphere—it's impossible to get away from the sand and the sea for very long here. Whereas people who wanted to exercise outdoors in Hanoi had to be very purposeful and organized about it (congregating in parks, doing mass aerobics routines to thumping techno music, etc.) people in Quy Nhon just stroll down to the beach. Every afternoon (when it's not raining) the beach is full of freewheeling games of soccer and volleyball, people jogging on the beach or floating in three feet of water while wearing fluorescent life jackets.

While we enjoy the life and vibrancy of a packed beach, we occasionally like to find places that aren't so crowded and noisy. The other day we came across just such a place. While biking along a coastal road to Quy Hoa (a small beachside village a couple miles south of Quy Nhon) we came across a side road that hadn't been there before. Bulldozed down the side of a steep embankment above the ocean, it was still in the process of being built. The dirt road ended at a jumble of rocks and boulders that fell 30 or 40 feet into the ocean.

Intrigued, we managed to pick our way along the rocks and down to a narrow strip of sand—a secluded, nearly pristine beach backed by cliffs and surrounded by rock formations on both sides. The water was clear and clean, the sand (practically) free of garbage, and the rocks perfect for climbing. We had found our new favorite beach hangout.

For a complete photo album of our beach visit, click here.

Give us a ring!

I just wanted to let you all know that the U.S. phone number to contact us in Vietnam has changed. It's a long, painfully boring story why we had to do this (and why it took a month to get everything straightened out), but the basic gist is that we've switched phone service providers.

Still, things should work the same as before. The number is located in Bellingham, so if that's a local call for you then you just need to dial the last 7 digits and it will ring to our computer in Vietnam. No matter where you call from or how long you talk, it will only cost you as much as a regular call to Bellingham would. So give it a try some time—we'd love to hear from you.

The number is: 360.746.0449

P.S. Don't worry that you'll call at odd hours and wake us up or anything. If we don't have our computer turned on, your call will just go to voicemail and you can leave us a message. That said, if you call any time after 6:00 PM PST until 8:00 AM the next morning you might just catch us awake and within earshot of our computer!

Basket Boat Races

Since moving to Quy Nhon about a month ago, life has sort of settled into a routine. Granted, it was a great routine—full of spending time with students and fun teammates, finding new coffee shops in town, and preparing to teach come October—but it was a routine nonetheless. Thus, when the opportunity to participate in a really weird group activity came up last weekend, we took it.

The event was called "The Basket Boat Race" and it was pretty much what you might imagine a basket boat race would be like. A little background information first, though, for the uninitiated: Quy Nhon has a sizeable fishing fleet—squid and many other squishy, fishy delicacies are plentiful in these waters. Rather than going to the trouble of constructing a marina, though, the fishermen simply anchor their boats in the shallows near shore and shuttle back and forth in small, round boats that look like baskets.

Combine this background information with the fact that Quy Nhon also plays host to a frequently-changing group of Peace-Corps-ish volunteers from New Zealand and you end up with an official Basket Boat Race. The Kiwis of Quy Nhon took it upon themselves to give all comers—not just Vietnamese fishermen—a chance to experience the glory of the basket boat. And, like true Westerners, they went and turned it into a competition.

Starting at the unconscionable hour of 7:00 Saturday morning, a random group of foreigners and Vietnamese began to gather on the beach across the street from the university. By 8:15, after only a few miscommunications and troubled translations, everyone was ready to don their bright orange life jackets and paddle their hearts out in groups of three. Everyone, that is, except for me (Steven) since I chose to be the official group photographer/videographer.

The resulting chaos (and fun) is chronicled in the video below.

This intermission brought to you by...military training

So for everyone who has been waiting to hear exciting stories of Steven's first days of teaching class in Quy Nhon, we regret to inform you that such stories have been delayed slightly.

One of the facts of student life in Vietnam is military training. Every year (or perhaps every other year...?) all college students in the country are required to spend a few weeks with their classmates sleeping in barracks or out in tents learning how to march, clean firearms, and the like.

This year for the first time, military training for freshmen was placed right at the beginning of the school year. The freshmen--who usually start class late anyways because their university entrance exams take time to process--are now starting a full five or six weeks later than everyone else. Mid-October was the last ballpark date I heard for when classes were starting.

Since I (Steven) am teaching all freshman classes, that means I've got an extra few weeks to plan, find my way around Quy Nhon, meet students from past years, find great coffee shops and the like. It also means I might have some extra time to update the blog, so keep checking back...

Pictures of life in Quy Nhon

We've been wanting to share a little bit about our daily life so far in Quy Nhon--where we live, what the city's like, etc. As a step in that direction, we took some pictures today in between rain storms and have just uploaded them to our web album. You can either watch the slideshow below, or click here to go to our album and see the real deal.

Bob Barker and Vietnam

Anyone making even a short visit to Vietnam quickly becomes familiar with the idea of “foreigner prices.” It’s not a difficult concept to comprehend: In a developing country where bargaining is expected and few prices are marked, it’s not uncommon for foreigners to pay a little extra when buying almost anything. The Price is Right would never do very well in Vietnam because it's simply second nature for most Vietnamese to know the exact, fair price for anything they might purchase, from carrots to squid to wardrobes. On the other hand Westerners, who are not in possession of such an accurate mental price list are—frankly—easy targets for vendors trying to make a little extra cash. In most cases, this amounts to maybe 15 or 20 cents and usually helps out the recipient much more than it hurts the giver.

It’s harmless, for the most part, and it doesn’t mean that the person selling to you is dishonest or doesn’t like you. The sellers just assume (correctly) that you have a lot more money than they do and you likely won’t go hungry if you give them an extra 20 cents. Still, to Western sensibilities, the very idea of foreigner prices can seem nasty, unfair, discriminatory, politically incorrect and downright offensive. Westerners hate getting ripped off (even if the ripoff amounts to pocket change) and the experience can sometimes leave one feeling mildly resentful towards the entire culture.

One particular Vietnam guidebook author must have been having such feelings when he wrote up his description of Quy Nhon:

“There’s little to see in Qui Nhon,” he declares in his glowing introduction to the town. “To make matters worse, the locals are rude, unfriendly, and ready to rip off the unwary.” Well there you have it.

It’s rare (and a little surprising) to see a guidebook writer make such a concerted effort to personally smear the entire population of a town of 250,000. But he goes on to bash Quy Nhon’s beach (it “contains raw sewage and other pollutants”), the towers of the ancient Cham civilization in town (“nothing to get excited about”), the area around the town’s central pagoda (“an industrial wasteland”), and eateries (“there are no decent restaurants”). It’s really an impressive array of insults to fit into such a short space.

Fortunately, Joelle and I haven’t based all of our decisions on what bitter guidebook writers have said. And indeed, not one of those descriptions has seemed to hold any water during our first week here. We’ve eaten delicious food at a number of ‘decent restaurants,’ we’ve yet to find any evidence of an ‘industrial wasteland’ in town and we’ve gone swimming in the ocean a few times already without having our skin melt or bumping into a single floating turd. And though the guidebook author himself comes across as a bit “rude” and “unfriendly” and has ripped off thousands of unwary people with a $22.00 guidebook of marginal utility, most of the locals we’ve met so far have been pleasant, welcoming, and fair in their dealings with us.

Case in point: I bought a new basket for the front of my bike today because my old one was falling apart. Though I’ll admit it sounds wimpy, baskets on the front of bicycles are not only exceedingly common here, they’re quite practical. (If you don’t believe me, you can try carrying three heavy bags of groceries home from the supermarket on your basketless bicycle next week and let me know how it works for you.)

The point, anyhow, is that I bought a new basket and needed help putting it on my bike. Fortunately, there’s a husband/wife pair that sets up their little repair cart in front of the university and works on bicycles and motorbikes seven days a week. They charge about three cents to fill up your tires with air, and a little bit more for more complicated repairs. We’ve visited them a few times already for different bike-related issues.

When I stopped by this morning with my new basket in hand, however, they were both busy working on other bikes. I wheeled my bike up, pointed to the basket, and got ready to wait my turn. I didn’t have to wait long, though, as one of the other customers who was waiting—a young guy about my age—came up and asked in English, “You want to change the basket on your bike?”

“Yes,” I replied, thinking that he would perhaps help translate things between me and the owners, as had happened before in a number of similar situations.

But instead of translating for me, he said a few things to the owners, dug around in their cart for some tools and, with two of his friends, started disassembling the old basket and putting the new one on. Needless to say, this sort of thing was new to me. It’s a bit like having the guys standing ahead of you in line at Burger King offer to go into the kitchen and make your Whopper for you. The whole process took maybe five minutes and looked professionally done at the end.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked the English-speaking one when they were all finished. He turned around and checked something with one of the cart owners in Vietnamese. She shook her head. He turned back to me and said, “Nothing. We just wanted to help you.” Huh. The ‘foreigner price’ today was apparently free. So much for the rude, unfriendly locals trying to rip off the unwary.

I returned to my apartment (50 yards away), grabbed the last American dollar bill I had, and went back out to give it to them as a token of appreciation. They refused again, insisting that they had just wanted to help. They did let me take my picture with them, and I gave them the address of this blog so perhaps they’ll read it and feel appreciated.

No matter what the guidebook writers say, we’re planning on loving and appreciating Quy Nhon and its people for some time to come. So there!