Some thoughts about train trestles

This entry was written a couple weeks ago while I had a lingering cold and thus had time to sit and ponder things a bit more than usual. I'm just finishing it up now...

Not feeling well but still needing to get out this morning, I took a walk in the 90 degree heat (a la Vietnam) up the road to Cedar Springs, a beautiful retreat center set at the edge of the Cascade foothills. It does the soul good just to stroll through there--stop by the pond, check out the flowers, and cool off in the shade of the giant cedars which give the place its name.

Today's walk also took me to an old railroad bed and out onto a trestle which spans a deep, forested gorge. Normally I'm in such a hurry to get somewhere that I walk across it without really thinking about it. Today, I stopped. And looked down. And felt a bit dizzy.

It really is a strange thing, being suspended a hundred-plus feet up in the air on a timber structure that was built over a century ago by people long dead and buried. To be clear: I'm not one of those weird railroad-obsessed guys who spend all their free time putting together model trains and watching documentaries about the specs of different sorts of steam engines. But when you stop and consider for a moment, you really do have to be impressed by the sheer engineering and logistical feat that is a train trestle. The fact that people using little more than some pulleys, maybe a steam donkey (whatever that is) and a lot of elbow grease could build something so massive and structurally sound is astounding.

One of the most impressive things about a trestle is the number of relatively small support beams that hold the whole thing together. I'm no engineer, but I would venture to say that, by itself, a single beam can't do a whole lot. I suppose you could toss it across a ditch and ride your bicycle over it if you were so inclined, but I wouldn't try driving a train (or a tricycle, for that matter) on it. Yet as the individual beams are bolted to the structure they become part of a system that, a hundred years down the road, still serves as a pretty dang good bridge.

I didn't linger too long on the trestle (lest someone see me and think I was a weird 'railroad guy') but as I walked home I was struck by how this was an object lesson for the work Joelle and I have been doing in Vietnam.

As I've supported cross-cultural workers in the past, I've sometimes wondered if my individual prayers to the Father or the small amount I'm able to give them each month really make much of a difference. Perhaps some of you have wondered the same thing as you support our work in Vietnam. From my vantage point now, I can answer that question with a resounding YES.

Just as a train would never have been able to cross that gorge at Cedar Springs without the support of those hundreds of individual beams, so Joelle and I would never be able to work and serve in Vietnam in our current capacity without the prayers and financial support of so many of you. Your petitions to the Father on our behalf and your sacrificial giving are not only appreciated--they're absolutely essential to the work that's being done.

As we prepare to return to Vietnam in just a few days now (August 19th!) we are very conscious of that, and thankful for the support we've received from all of you. Thanks!

Blogger, meet Facebook

Okay, so it's really a simple process and I don't know why I haven't done it before, but I just wanted to officially announce that new posts to our Vietnam blog (http://sjsvietnam.blogspot.com) will now appear--by means of some fantastic cyberwizardry--as new notes on Facebook. Hopefully that way some of my Facebook amigos will be able to better keep up with what we're doing in Vietnam, if they so choose.

That's about it for now. Yep.

Video

In order to show folks what we've been up to for the past 15 months or so, we put together a short (5 minute) video with pictures and some interviews with students. It's focused mostly on the teaching aspect of our work over there, and though you're hopefully aware that our focus is broader than simply teaching English, we hope it gives a good glimpse of what we've been doing and what some of the students are like.

So, click and enjoy. Also, please note that there should be a new blog entry with more information about our summer directly below this entry, published just a short time before this one. Two entries in one day, you ask? Yes. That's what happened.

Family, Friends, Fundraising

We're about halfway through our two and a half month visit back in the States and it seems an appropriate time to take a look back at what we've done so far and a look forward at what's to come. While it might not be as exciting and exotic as hearing about what's been going on in Vietnam, we still think it's important stuff.

First for some of what we've been up to so far:

• Our first several days back were a bit rough, with Steven suffering the one-two punch of jetlag and some stomach thing he'd picked up on the journey home. Here's what that time looked like for him:

• Soon enough, though, everyone was feeling great and good times with family and friends ensued. We especially enjoyed getting out into the gorgeous North Cascades and doing a little camping and hiking with Rachel (Joelle's older sister), Seth and their two boys. Vietnam's mountains are beautiful, it's true, but there's something about the forested valleys and snowcapped peaks of the Cascades that can't be matched.

• Steven's parents recently bought a house and made the move from Oregon up to southwest Washington. We've made a couple of trips down to visit them and help with a few projects, including laying a sweet new floor in their kitchen.

• Toward the end of June, Joelle's younger sister Bethany returned to the States for a visit after eight months living and teaching in Egypt. Globetrotters that we are, we had last seen her in Thailand in January of this year. The reunion was a good one, made even better by the fact that we stopped at Gordito's Burritos in Seattle on our way back from the airport. Where else can you get a burrito that three grown adults can share, eat their fill, and still barely finish?

• The end of June brought the beginning of Joelle's 29th year of life, a birthday she shares with brother-in-law Seth. And since Bethany was in Egypt over her birthday in May, she joined in for a triple birthday extravaganza.

• When the birthday really got rocking, Seth, Steven and Will donned galabaya, a traditional Egyptian outfit that Bethany had brought back for them. Will's, unfortunately, was a tad small on him.

• Being a contractor, Joelle's dad has ready access to 100-foot rolls of vapor barrier black plastic. Add sprinklers, a hill, a big bottle of hand soap from Deals Only, a warm sunny day and you have...The Mother of All Slip-n'-Slides.

• Finally, the 4th of July arrived with unusually gorgeous weather which gave us the chance to head up to Mt. Baker with some of the fam and go hiking in the glory of creation once again before coming down to enjoy fellowship, food and (of course) fireworks.

So that's what we've been up to (at least some of the more exciting stuff), but what lies ahead? While we can't be 100% sure, we do know a few things: One needed focus for us is fundraising; though we had a surplus in our account when we left for Vietnam, due to some generous one-time gifts, we currently have a significant shortfall in our monthly support budget. We're trusting--as we have before--that if we're doing what we're supposed to be doing, the money will come in. Thus far, the one who called us has been faithful in providing everything we need to live and work, and we've no reason to believe He's going to change now.

As far as "our part" in everything, we'll be speaking at a couple of fellowships and, if you get our newsletters, you'll have the chance to either begin or renew a monthly support pledge. If you're in the area and would like to meet to discuss any of this (or just to have some coffee and catch up) we'd be happy to do that. You can reach us by email at steven.shetterly (at) elic (dot) org or call us at 988-4038. We'll be around Whatcom County until the middle of August.

In related exciting news, it's now possible to donate to our work in Vietnam online, using either a credit card or checking account. If that sounds interesting, you can click here for more information.

Have a spectacular summer and thanks for reading and keeping up with what we're doing. It means a lot to us!

Final adventures and the trip home

To see pictures from this trip, click here.

This is being written from the living room of Joelle's parents' house in Sumas, Washington on a cool, May evening. Getting here from Quy Nhon was a bit of a process, which began with an overnight train ride to Saigon, a short flight to Hong Kong, and then a long hop across the Pacific to Vancouver, BC where we were picked up and whisked back to the States by Joelle's family. Still a little hard to believe that, for the next two and a half months, America is home for us again.

The week before we left was filled with goodbyes, packing, organizing, and at least one fairly sweet adventure. Phuong, a 4th year student who's been a good friend all year, invited Jason and Steven to visit his hometown in a remote part of Dak Lak province. This was not your typical tourist town visit by any stretch of the imagination; Phuong told us that--apart from his foreign English teacher who visited the year previous--we were the first foreigners to set foot in that part of the country in a long, long time.

Our journey started with a bus ride south along the coast from Quy Nhon. We hopped off the bus at a crossroads about 20 miles shy of the tourist hub of Nha Trang and flagged down an overcrowded van on its way up into the highlands. Wedging ourselves into the backseat as best we could, we survived a hair raising trip on windy mountain roads ("some of the most dangerous roads in Vietnam," Phuong assured us) to the sleepy mountain town of M'Drak.

From M'Drak we were picked up on motorbikes by Phuong's brother, brother-in-law and uncle and carried even further into the countryside. After a lengthy check-in procedure by the authorities at a small local police station we were allowed to go all the way to Phuong's commune, a group of about 70 houses in the midst of coffee fields, surrounded by jungle-covered mountains.
The residents of the commune are, by-and-large, transplants from a single town in northern Vietnam. Phuong's family lived in a poor, overpopulated region near Hanoi and moved to Dak Lak when he was a child, drawn by a promsie of free land from the government. The village that we saw--small, simple houses dotting hillsides covered with coffee trees--had been hacked out of the wilderness by the hands of those first settlers. Electricity arrived in the village just five years ago. Trips into town used to take a full day on a muddy trail (rather than 15 minutes on a dirt road).

We were warmly welcomed by Phuong's family and fed all the best meals they could provide (boiled chicken for breakfast, fresh fish hotpot and dog for dinner). Since most of the village was curious about the foreigners, large crowds were common at mealtimes as people tried to figure out what we were up to.

One of the things that most impressed me about the visit--in addition to the sheer remoteness of it all--was just how self-sufficient Phuong's family was. Rather than heading to the market every day, they grew their own vegetables, raised their own chickens and cows, kept enormous fish in a pond next to their house, grew a variety of delicious fruit in abundance, and bought home-grown rice from their neighbors. Were the global food supply to collapse tomorrow, Phuong's family would do just fine.

A highlight of the trip was the hike Phuong took us on through the rolling hills near the village, down a valley to a meandering stream and finally down to the base of a huge waterfall, roaring in wild splendor, surrounded by nothing but mountains and virgin rainforest. We took turns jumping off of rocks into the pool below the falls, shouting for sheer delight.

Among other things, the trip convinced me (Steven) that I really need to study more Vietnamese if I want to communicate with people outside of a university setting. It was also a good glimpse into the lives that many of my students have lived, as the majority of them come from the countryside rather than the city. Overall, though, it was simply a blessing--a fitting finale to 15 months of work and adventure in Vietnam.

May Holiday

On April 30th, 1975 the course of history changed dramatically for Vietnam. Officially called "National Unity Day" here, it's better known in the West as the Fall of Saigon. Without getting too political, it's the day that North and South Vietnam ceased to exist as separate entities and became, instead, the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam.

April 30th is now celebrated in Vietnam as a national holiday which--to no one's surprise--is followed by May 1st (another national holiday--known in much of the world as International Workers' Day--which has little or nothing to do with giving bouquets of flowers to people.) This year, these back-to-back holidays fell quite conveniently on a Thursday and Friday, which led to a four day weekend which was further stretched to a five day weekend for us by the fact that Steven doesn't normally teach on Wednesdays anyway. All that to say: We've had some time on our hands this past week.

So, with bus tickets in hand, we left Quy Nhon on Wednesday morning for a 5 hour trip up the coast. Our destination was Hoi An, an ancient Vietnamese port town that's now a major stop on the north-south tourist route. We first visited Hoi An in December with Will and Carissa and, while it doesn't rank as the most "authentic" Vietnamese experience available (tourists outnumber locals about 3 to 1, I think), it's easy to get to and is a good spot to buy reasonably priced souvenirs. Since we'll soon be seeing our families, friends and supporters for the first time in 15 months, we figured we had some shopping to do.

Hoi An was much the same as we remembered it--pretty, rainy, and crawling with foreigners. We did our shopping, had our fill of Western food and were ready to return to Quy Nhon with our loot. As it turned out, our last day held something far different and more authentic in store for us.

Mo, one of Steven's first-year students, happened to be home visiting her parents over the long weekend in a village just a few miles outside Hoi An. Joelle has been getting to know Mo (pronounced like the first syllable of 'mother') over the last few months and she had previously invited us to come visit her hometown. So we took her up on her offer and, around 10:30 in the morning, found ourselves in the quiet village of Dien Ban, walking up to the front door of a small house and being greeted by Mo, her family and several curious neighbor kids.

Mo told us that she's the only person in her village who speaks English, and we believe her. She said that several years ago a couple of foreigners rode their bicycles through town but we were first ones to visit since then. We strolled with her along the narrow streets of the village, past a house with red chili peppers drying on the porch and roof, stepping off the road when cows came trundling along the opposite direction. We visited her uncle's house where the family's most recent rice harvest was spread out evenly all over their living room floor as it dried (they would normally dry it outside, but the weather hadn't been cooperating).

Back at Mo's family's house we sat down to a tasty lunch of duck and taro soup with her parents, her older sister and her sister's boyfriend. We weren't able to communicate a whole lot with the family (we asked some basic family information in Vietnamese, and her father asked how long we'd been married and if we had flies in America like they do in Vietnam). Still, we felt welcomed and honored just to be there. We've been off the beaten track plenty of times before, but never had the chance to sit down to a meal with a family in the countryside.

The family has a total of seven people, with three beds to share among them all. Mo pointed to a pair of queen-bed sized lofts about 10 feet off the concrete floor of the main room and explained that that's where they went when it flooded. One of the bunks was for all of their furniture and possessions, the other was for the people. The floodwaters reach about four or five feet deep inside their house every couple of years. "We used to be very poor," Mo explained, "But we're doing better now." Mo--the youngest of five--is the first in the family to go to university.

The bus trip back to Quy Nhon later that afternoon took us through rice fields and small towns, over swollen rivers under a threatening gray sky. As we went, it was nice to feel like we understood the things we were seeing just a little bit more than we had before.

To see pictures from our trip, click here.

Living the Good Life

As I write this, there is a man in flip-flops pounding on our bathroom wall with a chisel and sledgehammer, removing broken tiles and making an incredible racket. He and his partner just finished destroying part of our floor (also due to a whole row of tiles which broke rather alarmingly all at once one day). Our apartment and my lungs are covered in a fine dust of concrete and tile fragments, and the weather outside is gray and soggy. Some days are like this.

But as much as we might try stir up sympathy by making everyone believe that we live a life of deprivation and hardship here, the secret is getting out--most of you (especially those who have been able to visit us) understand by now that Quy Nhon isn't exactly the armpit of Southeast Asia. It is, in fact, amazingly beautiful and largely undiscovered by international tourists. In recent years, though, there are a few who have begun to recognize the tourism potential of this area and thus we've started to get the first really nice, world-class resorts being built along this stretch of the coast.

Somehow this past week we had the opportunity to visit not one but two resorts a short distance outside of Quy Nhon. The first, called Life Resort, is a small, comfortable place about five or six miles south of town, sharing a beach with a fishing village. If I were in the practice of giving out stars to such places, I might give it four or so. The beach is clean and the rooms nice and spacious; it costs about $100 a night to stay. The day before our 3rd wedding anniversary we rode the city bus out to the Life Resort and met the new manager there--an Australian fellow who we'd heard was really nice. As it turned out, the reports were correct; he let us into the resort for free, gave us some complimentary cold drinks, sat down for a chat with us and then let us use one of the guest rooms to shower and change after we'd gone swimming at their beach. So we swam, enjoyed the beach, had a good dinner and headed home. A pretty sweet evening.

Four days later we were at it again. This time, our personnel director Susan was visiting from Hanoi and all of us (the Fizzards, Susan, Joelle and I) got into a taxi and headed a little further south to a place called Bai Tram Hideaway Resort. "Hideaway" is an apt name in this case, as it's located off a spur highway at the end of a 3 mile stretch of what is quite possibly the worst dirt road in Vietnam. The jostling, bone-jarring ride was worth it, though, as we were greeted with our very own pristine, private beach and clear, turquoise waters.

Bai Tram is still very much under construction. At this point it consists only of a restaurant/reception area and seven villas (out of a planned 150 or so). We didn't mind, though, as this meant that we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. A former Quy Nhon student and a good friend of Jill and Jason's is the Guest Relations Manager and was able to get us in and show us around. The villa she took us to--a single bedroom house with a separate living area, private pool and beach view--goes for around $700 a night. Sheesh. We swam in their pool, took a dip in the ocean, climbed around on the rocks and generally made believe we were fabulously wealthy for the better part of a morning.

As I floated in the cool water and took in the scenery I quietly contemplated the lifestyle of a volunteer English teacher in Vietnam. Visiting two gorgeous resorts for free in the space of a week wasn't exactly what we had anticipated when we signed up to come over here, but hey--we'll take it.
And even as the sound of chisel on bathroom tile continues to reverberate around our apartment, I can honestly say that our entire time here in Quy Nhon (not just the time spent at 4 and 5 star resorts) has been far beyond what we could have asked for or imagined.

To see some pictures from our pair of resort adventures, click here.