Feb 10 Da Lat Updates

02/10/08, 8:07 pm, at the 1B pnt guesthouse

The past few days in Da Lat have been amazing and tiring, and strange, at times. ;O)

There was no internet the past few days cause everything was closed cause of the Vietnamese New Year. On Wednesday, we all met up and took the cab to the place where we took the bus to Da Lat. Da Lat is about taking about 6-7 hours to get there. We had no time to get to an internet place in the four days that I was in Da Lat because we were so busy doing thing after thing.

So the trip to Da Lat wasn't so bad. The seats were practically lazy-boys. They lean back really far and they are really roomy. I sat all the way in the back, which was not the best idea since we were jostled and tossed the whole way there. The roads were curvy, hugging the sides of mountains, and the driver kept honking at the people on the motorbikes and was going at ridiculous speeds. So every time there was a turn or a bump, I could feel it. I tried to read the articles we were assigned to read and it took some efforts but I finally got the 40 pages of reading done, in the 4 hours of the ride. Hahaha. I slept most of the way there. With regular rest stops, I was able to drink plenty and still pee comfortably.

When we got to Da Lat, we met up with our homestay families and the 15 of us split into 5 groups of 3 to stay with a homestay. The homestay mom's name is Tram and the father is Son. The mom is an English teacher, about 37 years old. The father is an architecture; he designed the house that we lived in. The house was very neat, very clean, very minimal. One room on the first floor for the one boy in our group, Jason. And for Abby and me a room upstairs. The view upstairs was really nice; we got a great view of the valley and the surrounding areas that is Da Lat. The family has two daughters, one 10 years old and one is 5. They are both so cute. The older one is just like her mom, so mature and so intelligent. The younger one is really girly, flighty, and with the charms that can wrap boys around her fingers. The older one has a sort of slight awkwardness, but so honest and so caring that it's really endearing. She's always asking about where we are going, what we plan to do, she tries to explain things about the house to us, and she is always asking how are we doing and have we eaten.

The first night, our host-most made us rice with chicken broth, which was delicious! We helped her by picking the vegetables. Our host dad has a little sunroom in the back, open to the air and to the view. He raises birds as a hobby, and he has some really pretty and beautifully sounding ones. My favorite one is the little one with the red body.

Picking vegetables, I shared with Jason and Abby about my life. They also offered me tidbits about their lives. I realize people are fine talking to me when we are in small groups. They ask questions and share things about themselves I would not get otherwise. But in the larger group, people would prefer to hang out with anyone else but me. But it's understandable; people prefer to hang out with people they can most relate to. And there's nothing to blame them if they feel more comfort with others, and can relate to them better. I learned many things during the trip in Da Lat. I will get to them later.

I think the main lesson is that I accept the situation. I don't feel bad that people don't want to sit next to me on the bus or that people don't try to sit with me during lunch or dinner, or walk next to me when we walk around anywhere as a group. I have come to accept it. One, I realize I may be just a little tad sensitive. And if I really wanted them to like me, I would have made the efforts. So it's not that I am disliked by anyone, I am just not preferred. And for me to want to be preferred, I have to make the effort in liking them first. So yeah, it's not other people not liking me or avoiding me, it's really that I have been the one giving off the vibes. I feel that the people that I like, they have liked me and appreciated my company in return. I realize that often times, I put off the vibes that I like being alone, sitting alone. I should be okay with that. :O) I notice I get along best with the colored kids; there's nothing wrong with hanging with the people we're are most comfortable with.

There is one girl, Von, the Vietnamese girl who was adopted by white parents when she was seven and moved to the states. She lives in New Hampshire. We actually get along pretty well together. I really would like to be closer friends with her, but I think she is still wary of me for some reason. I don't know. I should figure that out before we leave the program. Hmm….. I think there are many things I can learn from her and hopefully there are a few things she can benefit from me too.

Making friends is such a sensitive task. It takes a lot of effort to listen, look, observe, and give. Hahhaha. Gosh! So much work!

Okay, so after dinner on Wednesday, the host-mom and her friend took the three of us to the local Tet (Vietnamese New Year) fair. It was really loud. There were men who cross-dressed and did the announcements for various lotteries. The different booths had different games and the prizes were beer, packaged food, or soda cans. It's really odd what is considered wanted goods. But it is understandable the sort of prizes offered….each stall is ran by people who are trying to make money and the prizes were things that were accessible, and things that they probably already have in their shops and they wanted to do the carnival as another way to make money fast.

Anyways, out of all the stalls, there was one where you can make a card with sand. They basically have the design for you and you can peel each section and put colored sand on it. I did that one cause I have never seen it before, and that little art project made me happy. I got one for William and one for Monica.

Thursday morning, we woke up a little late, so we did not get to visit the relatives with the family. We went instead to the temple and then had lunch, a special noodle dish our mom made. And then we walked to meet our group at the hotel our prof was staying at. From there, we made our way to the Bamboo Grove Monastery. It was a meditation retreat place. And the head abbot talked to us about meditation for two hours. We were also given a special behind the scenes tour. We got to see the inside section, where the monks and nuns lived, that most visitors do not get to see, unless they have special permission. Even our tour guide, in all the years that he worked as a tour guide, did not before get that treat. Walking around, the place was just magnificent. We learned a lot about Vietnam's history with Buddhism and about meditation. We also received a complementary copy of the English book on meditation that the head abbot wrote. It was an awesome trip, surrounded by the most beautiful sights of mountains, pines, and fog that you can ever imagine.

I love Da Lat because the weather is cooler. It's so cool that it always gets me sick everytime I go there, because it is such an extreme change from the warm to cool that it puts my body in shock. This time around, I also got sick. I got a sore throat before I got to Da Lat and I slammed it with Vitamin C, but it wasn't enough.

Friday, we visited the Da Lat University and learned some things about the higher education in Viet Nam. We walked a little around campus, grabbed lunch at a local restaurant, and went to this local café, called "Stop & Go," which was owned by a person who is a brother of one of the fathers of our of our homestay families (not my family, another group's family). He is an awesome artist, totally crazy and typical artist. Very Bohemian. Very French-Vietnamese. He writes amazing poems, in French, English, and Vietnamese. And his English is amazing. He writes the poetry in the fancified calligraphy art form, where each letter has its own special mark, and each letter is an image in its own right. I bought one that talked about the guitar…I couldn't help it. Speaking to the guitar, the artist said,

"Guitar,
You do not sing to me
Your strings are silent
I want to play you
like my lover
I want to live
all my life
You give me sound
I give you life
I keep playing you
And you keep me alive"

I think coming home would be so amazing! I'd be a different, better, more whole sort of person. I would be so relieved, and revived. Just like leaving D.C. I know I will come home feeling like I learned a lot about the world, about myself. Coming home to Chicago, it won't be just so that I am coming home to William and to my parents….I'd like the opportunity to make Chicago my own home, too.... again.

Friday night, we finally had some free time and so I got to visit my cousin. It was the first time and the only time I will be able to see her on this trip. She was busy with a tour coming by to Da Lat, since it's Tet time, everyone is traveling with their family. She says that typically, they aren't that busy. But I figured, being busy some times is better than not being busy at all. She was helping her customers (there were some confusion with the number of rooms booked and a problem with the smell in one of the rooms) but eventually they figured things out. I sat there and wrote in my journal, did one of my assignments. And I was glad to just eat dinner that she cooked and sit with her at the front desk, me doing my organizing in my notebook, and her doing her paperwork. I would have liked to sit with her longer, but it's okay.

I came home and we packed for the Saturday trip.

Saturday, there is a 23-km trekking trip planned, and a gong ceremony after that. When I heard trekking, I didn't think anything about it. I thought we were going just a few kilometers, well, I was wrong. Hahhahah.

The saturday trip is at Lang Biang, a section of mountains with a name that reminds us of a romeo and Juliet story. Lang is the boy and Biang is a girl, each from an opposing tribe. One is richer and one is poorer. The tribes are enemies and they were not allowed to love. Anyways, we climbed both the Lang peak, the Biang peak, and the third peak with is supposedly their children. The trekking was not really trekking, it was more like hiking. We did three kilometers of really steep hiking. And then we hit the pine trail, and then we hit this tiny trail that makes us go only one at a time, surrounded by young rain forest and there were times where we practically had to get on all four to get up the steps because they were so slippery with mud and fallen leaves. I only had flip flops and I often had to just walk barefoot because I couldn't get a grip with the flip flop. I didn't make the worst time since there were a few people behind me. I stuck around with the slower people, and they were much more enjoyable company. All the active, athletic kids went in the front, and the guide kept staying back to help and make sure my prof is okay. She went along with us on the 23-km trek!!

The guide is actually this 26-year-old woman who is a quarter French with light brown eyes. She has one hell of a fierce attitude and a determination I highly respect. Losing her parents 10 years ago, she was forced to take care of herself for the past 7 years. She had to work and put herself through school and now she works as a guide because she likes the hiking and being in the forests. She sees the cuts on my arm and she says, "I must give it to you, you have my props. I understand your feelings, but I don't have the guts to cut myself. I almost jumped a bridge and committed suicide, but when it came down to it, I couldn't do it. I decided to stay alive and to keep fighting." So that's what she's been doing. Along with her as our guide, there were three other people who helped keep our group together.

Climbing up was hard on the body. Going down was dangerous and slippery. So each try was just as time-consuming as the other. Getting to the first peak was amazing, the view was out of this world. It felt like I was on top of the world. I kept thinking that i'd like to come back.

By the third peak, there were super tourism there. I bought a wallet from this woman who was from the area. She is of one of the minority ethnic group, and they are the poorest of the poor. She tells me it takes a whole week for her to weave the wallet that costs customers 25000 dong, which is about $1.50. And it takes about a month for her to sell one. Crazy how little they make and crazy how much more work it takes for them to just survive. They live two hours away, and to carry their wares, they have to hire a motorbike person to help them. They make the trek everyday by foot to reach the market and hope to sell something. They learned to weave since they were three, from their mother. I looked at what the weaving were doing and I commended them, I couldn't figure out the math stuffs, it just takes too much calculating. Feeling bad, I also bought another wallet from the woman next to the woman I was talking to. They were so open about the stories of their lives; I felt guilty. I also wished them a healthy and hearty new year. They were so nice; they wished for successes in my studies.

Coming back from the hike, we went to the longhouse that the local people used for celebrations and ceremonies. We ate there and also slept there. I drank about two shots of the local brew and had a little more of the communal wine. Somehow, not surprisingly, my heart was beating like it was about to explode out of my chest and I started having the chills, shivering and aching for warmth, gasping for breath. I knew I was gonna get sick, but I always forget how sick I can get. Fortunately, the tour guide was there with me the whole time. She laid my head on her lap and made sure I stayed warm.

When the party and dancing was over, people brought out the mattresses and blankets and made the bed for us to all sleep in the common longhouse. She brought me by the fire in the middle and made sure I sat there to get warm. I was barely cognizant, feeling a little more awake, but scared to move because my head was swimming around. Laying down to bed, I wanted to sleep right away but I was still feeling cold. She laid down with me and gave me her arm to sleep on. I felt lucky, that she gave me comfort and support all night, when none of the other people in my group would have. They would have asked me how I was doing, but none would go all the way as to hold me and made sure I was okay.

So Saturday night leads to Sunday morning, when we all headed tiredly, crankily, and grouchily onto the bus. The bus ride back to the city was just as long and tedious but there was definitely less honking, but just as much, if not more stop-and-go and getting tossed about on the bus. Getting back from the bus stop to the guesthouse took a while, but eventually, we got back. I showered and went looking for the internet café but unfortunately, none was opened. So I sat for the past couple of hours and wrote.

and here i am. feeling overwhelmed, lost, scared that i don't know what to do for my independent study project.