Ellyn Writing!!! Surprise! I'm still alive!
Maybe been about 5 months since I wrote last....so sorry! But here goes try to get as much out before I have to get to school.
Here in Vietnam I have been given the nickname of Wrong Way Ellyn. This name has come from the fact that I sometimes show up later than people that leave at the same time as I have. Or I am gone for a half day when I just planned to stop by the corner store, or people think that I get "lost"...now I have been quite opposed to this name, and have fought it hard, but I think this has only strengthened the name. I always say just because it was the long way doesn't make it the wrong way. I hope some of you out there will agree with me...I just like to take the road less traveled, I like to explore....I'm something like a Conquistador :). So my latest development which has been a 3 month adventure, is my passport, visa issue. Many of you have already heard of this but for those who haven't, this is quite an interesting story and even though it's still not entirely resolved, sometimes I am able to laugh about it.
The story begins 3 months ago, on January 25, my parents and I left Vietnam to visit Cambodia during TET holiday. We left this day on a flight from Ho Chi Mihn City to Siem Reap. On our way out we received a nice red stamp that said hey we are leaving the country. This was a beautiful stamp, I don't know if we have ever mentioned red stamps in this country but the Vietnamese worship these things. Without a red stamp you are in trouble. In fact, I believe I will have to get a red stamp tattoo to always remember this country, one that will cover my whole face, it shall be beautiful. So, we received our stamps on the way out. Then we decided it would be nice to take the bus the rest of the way. We took a bus from Siem Reap to Pnom Phenn. Stayed there for a day and headed back home in the hopes of taking a motorbike trip up the coast from my home. We didn't get to do that trip, however, as many things went wrong. Crossing the border, from Cambodia back to Vietnam, there were loads of people crammed into a building. There was a stack of twenty-some passports all for the people from our bus that were taken away to some random back-room where they were analyzed and stamped. They called people out one by one and then they were rushed back to the bus. I was last to be called and the bus driver grabbed my stuff to hurry me along (not that I am slow, I learn to move fast from my dad). Because we were moving so fast I accidentally left some hats back behind, I hope some people enjoy those hats! :) When I got onto the bus I sunk into my seat breathing hard and sweating profusely. I located all of my important items, passport, wallet, phone and put them in my jacket pocket, all the while think maybe this isn't the best place for these things. Somehow I still left my passport there thinking I would be fine. Big mistake! As we got back into Ho Chi Mihn City we had the most difficult time finding a way back to Vung Tau because of the holiday. We went from place to place from taxi to taxi in order to get a bus or a boat back to Vung Tau. In this process, trying to drag along all of our bags and countless souvenirs, I misplaced my jacket...or had it it stolen....so there goes my passport! So this created countless problems for my trip with my parents, which I may write about later but I need to finish this story first.
After I lost my passport I had to get a red stamp from the police that said that I lost my passport...the police aren't the greatest people to deal with in Vietnam, especially when you don't speak Vietnamese. When I went to a police department in Ho Chi MIhn City on my own for example they asked "where did you lose it?" since I didn't really know I gave him a street name that I knew and he says "well you need to go to the police on that street"...simply because he didn't want to deal with me. This conversation all took about 45 min because they don't know much English and my Vietnamese is extremely limited. So I went to the other street, about 2 blocks away and they said that I needed to come back with a hotel manager. I had to go back to Vung Tau to work that day so I said fine and left. Back in Vung Tau I have made a friend who has friends in high places so he got the stamp after about a week, RED STAMP #1.
This stamp allowed me to go to the consulate and get a new passport which I got 2 weeks later with a letter from the consulate stating I lost my passport and I will be needing a new visa....with.....you guessed it....a RED STAMP...#2. With two stamps and a new passport I should be set! I sent these in through ILA to get a new visa around March 1. So when I still didn't have a visa about 2 weeks later, I started getting worried. I bothered my manager about it virtually every day. She continued to reassure me that there was no problem. Then around the 3rd week point they said they was no record of me entering the country and that this was a problem. BUT we could fix this with a red stamp, so I signed a paper which gave information on when I left and entered the country. READ STAMP #3. Around this time, mid-March I decided it was time for me to move on jobs and cities, so I gave my notice around March 24 and asked for more information on my visa and for my documents (degree, background check, CELTA certificate) back. From then on I continued to ask about the visa with continued reassurance that there was no problem. Then 2 weeks from my last day April 15th I received an email which stated that I needed to come to office immediately because there was a problem with my passport/visa. In the office, my manager said that it wasn't going to be as bad as she had thought. She was told that they were going to send me home (back to the United States) because I was so illegal, but that she had negotiated with them (not quite sure who them is) that I would be able to get a visa that would allow me to leave the country, and then I could apply for a new visa and re-enter the country. So this was the new plan make a visa run; I would have to be out of the country by April 29th. I made plans over the next week, I would go into Malaysia where my sister had a friend and try to get a visa there. While this was happening, I needed another stamp from the Vung Tau police that stated that I had been living in Vung Tau all this time, however, they didn't want to give me this because I had been unable to register with the police because I had not had a passport, bit of a cyclical nightmare, so finally the police gave me a stamp because I moved into a hotel for a few days and registered with them RED STAMP #4. All of this has now been sent to the immigration office in the hopes of a visa that will allow me to leave the country and eventually maybe come back in? Now I have been talking to an employer up in Hanoi who have offered me a job. The lady I have been talking to told me that this whole situation is completely out of the ordinary and that when this happens they don't usually allow people back into the country. Then she asked me if I had gotten in trouble with the police, I, of course, said I have done nothing. So at the moment I am supposedly getting a visa on May 12 that will allow me to leave the country, and then I am working with Language Link a company in Hanoi to get me a visa to get back in. Oh, and remember those documents that i asked for over a month ago, because I need them to get a new job, they have recently been sent to America to be notarized (this is normal for the work permit process), because they weren't told to stop the process when I told them I was leaving. :) Convenient right?
Life with Chopsticks. When I first came to Vietnam I didn't know how to use chopsticks very well, nor did most of my friends in the CELTA course. Eating was so much more difficult, maybe that's why I first lost weight. When others gave up and used the forks and spoons they looked at me like a crazy fool. They asked me "why don't you just use a fork" I always said "you know, I'm not so sure, I just want to use chopsticks, I'm not going to give in" I now look back and compare this to my life, I can never go the easy route, somehow I always end up struggling through this path where no one has been. Perhaps people think its the "wrong way" but usually it just less traveled. Sometimes I wish I had chosen a different route, but by the time I have recognized this...its much to late and I am being deported from a country! :)
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A Beginning's End
Elsbeth writing…
It’s been a busy, yet lazy, last couple weeks. I find myself becoming a worry wart more than being excited for the adventure ahead of me. Saying goodbye is always the hardest part…so is getting started. I think that being settled into someplace is the most comforting, but also the most apathetic. It’s good to wake yourself up every now and then with a break from the monotony of life and start fresh. Then again, I ask myself why am I leaving when I’m comfortable where I am. Oh, well, the decision is made and I’m going with it.
My mom’s on the long flight over the giant Pacific Ocean as I’m typing this. I’m meeting her at the Airport in HCMC tomorrow morning, so I’m going to make this quick because I need to get some sleep so I can get up early tomorrow morning to catch the ferry into the city. I’m a bit worried about the ferries. They’ve been having problems lately and they’re building a bridge somewhere along the river. I’ll keep my beloved Edward close at hand as I try to finish the first Twilight series book. A friend gave me the fourth one so now I have one and four, but not two and three! Mom’s bringing the second one though—I think—so she’ll give it to me when she goes.
My excitement has also been dampened by Ellyn’s situation. Some of you probably have heard about it, but she’s been having a ridiculously difficult time with her visa. It’s very complicated. She has to leave the country and may not be able to get back in yet, at the same time, she can’t leave the country. Don’t ask about how this is logical. It all boils down to ONE red stamp. People here are so stuck on their ephemeral red stamps that they’ve lost the reason for WHY they do them in the first place. They’ve just gone stamping crazy because it makes them feel important. So because of this power struggle Ellyn is caught in a real-life purgatory. Like I’ve told people many times before everything is a Catch-22 here… So having said that, I’m not sure if we’ll continue our journey together in Hanoi…very sad, but I’m trying to hope for the best.
Another depressing part of leaving Vung Tau is leaving my students. I love all my classes now. I couldn’t have a much better schedule. Monday through Friday with all seniors classes (middle school age), my favorite level. One of my classes had a going away party for me yesterday. It was so sweet. They had a cake that said “Goodbye Elsbeth” and they even spelled “We love you Elsbeth” in ketchup and hot sauce. There was pizza and bubble tea (I love bubble tea! It has these jellies in it that you suck up through a big straw). Then the girls gave me heaps of presents and cards. They’re very middle school-age, girly type of gifts—things I was into back in the day—it was so thoughtful, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to take them all up to Hanoi with me. My TA also gave me a beautiful bouquet of yellow, white and red roses sprayed with glitter. My other TA also gave me this awesome black bracelet that stays on with magnets for beads. I’m going to miss them all so much as well as the other teachers, TAs, and people at work. When it comes down to it, I really enjoyed working there. It was great place to start my teaching career.
Today was my last day. I cleaned out my locker, organized and sorted through my piles of materials that I’ve been collecting these last seven months. I don’t know how I managed to fit it all in that tiny space. It didn’t seem like I was really teaching my classes for the last time. It just felt like another day. Two of my classes are ending very soon—this week was revision—so it’s kind of appropriate timing. Still, I’ll miss it all. *Sigh*
On Sunday we also had our farewell banquet. Six teachers are leaving (most of them are going up to Hanoi), so we had a massive farewell banquet at this nice restaurant/resort in town. I think it looks very Grecian with blue tile roofs and white-washed walls. I enjoy going to the beach there, because it’s secluded, fairly cheap, and relaxing. Anyway, we had a delicious Vietnamese meal—there was so much food—on a massively long table outside. It was good to see everyone together and to socialize. I’m going to miss them.
Also, on Saturday afternoon there was a party for the Australian/New Zealander Veteran’s Day called Anzac Day. They had the kids from the orphanage sing Waltzing Matilda with one of the teacher’s from school. I’ve been volunteering at the orphanage for a couple months now, teaching the older kids English for an hour on Mondays. They’re great kids (even though they don’t pay attention sometimes) and it was great to see them sing. It seems like they had fun. Sadly, I think that was the last time I’ll see them. I’ve gotten to know quite a few people in town—mainly other Westerners—through volunteering and also just hanging out at the restaurants and bars every now and then. Many of them are retirees who I’ve gotten to know. We’re kind of a close-knit community in this town and it’s nice to have other people you can somewhat relate to around. It’s crazy how you build up so many connections in such a short period of time.
Otherwise, the weekend passed by quickly as usual. I tried to read, figure out my annoyingly slow computer, and get last-minute things done. Oh, I played Botchy Ball with some friends on Saturday. It was a good time. A truly Vietnamese experience—in the dirt and grime of a Vietnamese Botchy Ball court with all the men. We were the only two women playing and you can imagine how intrigued the men where especially because we were white on top of it. The weekend before it poured for the first time. The monsoon rains are just about here! We had a huge thunder and lightening storm, which I was partially caught in, after running errands. I got inside safely and it was so relaxing to spend the afternoon curled up warm and dry in my bed reading Twilight. I also got up early with the Vietnamese both days the previous weekend. I walked around the harbour, up the Jesus Mountain, and swam at the lap pool on Saturday morning with Kaidian. It was so refreshing to get up that early and exercise. I really need to do that more often. I think I’ve said that before…. On Sunday I got up early and went on a short “Orange Walk” around town. It was a fundraiser for Agent Orange victims. The people involved in the fundraiser take a motorbike trip all the way up the country to Hanoi. That would be awesome to do one day. Someday I’ll have to come back and take that journey for the fundraiser.
Well, that’s an update for the time being. I can’t wait for my mom to get here! Omigosh, it’s less than 12 hours now. I haven’t seen my family in over eight months. It’s the longest I’ve been away. Crazy to think how quickly the time as passed! It doesn’t seem like I’ve been here for that long, but you know what they say: Time passes quickly when you’re having fun…or at least keeping yourself busy.
It’s been a busy, yet lazy, last couple weeks. I find myself becoming a worry wart more than being excited for the adventure ahead of me. Saying goodbye is always the hardest part…so is getting started. I think that being settled into someplace is the most comforting, but also the most apathetic. It’s good to wake yourself up every now and then with a break from the monotony of life and start fresh. Then again, I ask myself why am I leaving when I’m comfortable where I am. Oh, well, the decision is made and I’m going with it.
My mom’s on the long flight over the giant Pacific Ocean as I’m typing this. I’m meeting her at the Airport in HCMC tomorrow morning, so I’m going to make this quick because I need to get some sleep so I can get up early tomorrow morning to catch the ferry into the city. I’m a bit worried about the ferries. They’ve been having problems lately and they’re building a bridge somewhere along the river. I’ll keep my beloved Edward close at hand as I try to finish the first Twilight series book. A friend gave me the fourth one so now I have one and four, but not two and three! Mom’s bringing the second one though—I think—so she’ll give it to me when she goes.
My excitement has also been dampened by Ellyn’s situation. Some of you probably have heard about it, but she’s been having a ridiculously difficult time with her visa. It’s very complicated. She has to leave the country and may not be able to get back in yet, at the same time, she can’t leave the country. Don’t ask about how this is logical. It all boils down to ONE red stamp. People here are so stuck on their ephemeral red stamps that they’ve lost the reason for WHY they do them in the first place. They’ve just gone stamping crazy because it makes them feel important. So because of this power struggle Ellyn is caught in a real-life purgatory. Like I’ve told people many times before everything is a Catch-22 here… So having said that, I’m not sure if we’ll continue our journey together in Hanoi…very sad, but I’m trying to hope for the best.
Another depressing part of leaving Vung Tau is leaving my students. I love all my classes now. I couldn’t have a much better schedule. Monday through Friday with all seniors classes (middle school age), my favorite level. One of my classes had a going away party for me yesterday. It was so sweet. They had a cake that said “Goodbye Elsbeth” and they even spelled “We love you Elsbeth” in ketchup and hot sauce. There was pizza and bubble tea (I love bubble tea! It has these jellies in it that you suck up through a big straw). Then the girls gave me heaps of presents and cards. They’re very middle school-age, girly type of gifts—things I was into back in the day—it was so thoughtful, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to take them all up to Hanoi with me. My TA also gave me a beautiful bouquet of yellow, white and red roses sprayed with glitter. My other TA also gave me this awesome black bracelet that stays on with magnets for beads. I’m going to miss them all so much as well as the other teachers, TAs, and people at work. When it comes down to it, I really enjoyed working there. It was great place to start my teaching career.
Today was my last day. I cleaned out my locker, organized and sorted through my piles of materials that I’ve been collecting these last seven months. I don’t know how I managed to fit it all in that tiny space. It didn’t seem like I was really teaching my classes for the last time. It just felt like another day. Two of my classes are ending very soon—this week was revision—so it’s kind of appropriate timing. Still, I’ll miss it all. *Sigh*
On Sunday we also had our farewell banquet. Six teachers are leaving (most of them are going up to Hanoi), so we had a massive farewell banquet at this nice restaurant/resort in town. I think it looks very Grecian with blue tile roofs and white-washed walls. I enjoy going to the beach there, because it’s secluded, fairly cheap, and relaxing. Anyway, we had a delicious Vietnamese meal—there was so much food—on a massively long table outside. It was good to see everyone together and to socialize. I’m going to miss them.
Also, on Saturday afternoon there was a party for the Australian/New Zealander Veteran’s Day called Anzac Day. They had the kids from the orphanage sing Waltzing Matilda with one of the teacher’s from school. I’ve been volunteering at the orphanage for a couple months now, teaching the older kids English for an hour on Mondays. They’re great kids (even though they don’t pay attention sometimes) and it was great to see them sing. It seems like they had fun. Sadly, I think that was the last time I’ll see them. I’ve gotten to know quite a few people in town—mainly other Westerners—through volunteering and also just hanging out at the restaurants and bars every now and then. Many of them are retirees who I’ve gotten to know. We’re kind of a close-knit community in this town and it’s nice to have other people you can somewhat relate to around. It’s crazy how you build up so many connections in such a short period of time.
Otherwise, the weekend passed by quickly as usual. I tried to read, figure out my annoyingly slow computer, and get last-minute things done. Oh, I played Botchy Ball with some friends on Saturday. It was a good time. A truly Vietnamese experience—in the dirt and grime of a Vietnamese Botchy Ball court with all the men. We were the only two women playing and you can imagine how intrigued the men where especially because we were white on top of it. The weekend before it poured for the first time. The monsoon rains are just about here! We had a huge thunder and lightening storm, which I was partially caught in, after running errands. I got inside safely and it was so relaxing to spend the afternoon curled up warm and dry in my bed reading Twilight. I also got up early with the Vietnamese both days the previous weekend. I walked around the harbour, up the Jesus Mountain, and swam at the lap pool on Saturday morning with Kaidian. It was so refreshing to get up that early and exercise. I really need to do that more often. I think I’ve said that before…. On Sunday I got up early and went on a short “Orange Walk” around town. It was a fundraiser for Agent Orange victims. The people involved in the fundraiser take a motorbike trip all the way up the country to Hanoi. That would be awesome to do one day. Someday I’ll have to come back and take that journey for the fundraiser.
Well, that’s an update for the time being. I can’t wait for my mom to get here! Omigosh, it’s less than 12 hours now. I haven’t seen my family in over eight months. It’s the longest I’ve been away. Crazy to think how quickly the time as passed! It doesn’t seem like I’ve been here for that long, but you know what they say: Time passes quickly when you’re having fun…or at least keeping yourself busy.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Let Peace Begin With Me
Elsbeth writing…
I had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Cinderella was chased down by more ravenous wolves. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood would be a better analogy here.
I prepared all day on Saturday for Easter Sunday. I cleaned my room and a bit of the house, I went to the market (a dingy, dark place) to buy my Easter brunch of fresh, brown eggs, veggies, a pealed pineapple, and even a nice bouquet of tropical Easter flowers. I topped up my bike with petrol, bought some more minutes for my phone, and traveled to the big church next to the Mother Mary statue in the fishing village around big mountain to check what time they had Easter service. From my limited knowledge of Vietnamese, I gathered that the sunrise service was truly at sunrise—5:30 a.m. I was excited to go to an Easter Sunday service in a Vietnamese Church. I wanted to see what it was like.
The next morning I woke up at 4:30 a.m. I wanted to get to church a little early, since I assumed that it would be crowded and I wanted to get a decent seat. I packed my purse with my camera, cell phone, sunglasses, and wallet with the limited amount of cash I always carry with me for safety sake. Little did I think that the pockets on my kaki Capri’s were deep enough to hold the needed items for traveling across town. I quietly made my way downstairs and out the gate. I started up my motorbike (now finally fixed with a 70 engine). It purred to life and off I went in the cool of the morning. The moon was still up in the sky and twilight still lingered as I drove along the harbor. I was actually up before most Vietnamese! I didn’t think that was possible, yet there were still many people along the boardwalk having their morning constitutional and doing their light exercises. It was refreshing to be out at this time.
I was lost in thought as I climbed up the side of the mountain—the ocean to my left and the rocky cliff to my right. All of a sudden I felt a presence behind me and a motorbike zoomed so close to my bike it touched it. There were two teenage boys wearing white shirts and the one on the back quickly reached towards the hook that latched my purse to the bike. I always kept the purse nestled on the rack between my legs feeling it would be safe enough there and ignoring the warnings people gave me that I shouldn’t carry one at all. I loved that purse. I was perfect—lots of pockets, classy with a bit of an Asian flavor. Then before I knew it my purse was quickly moving away from me and then forever out of my sight. The boys laughing at the clever little trick they had pulled. It was all a blur, but from what I remember I had tried to kick and move his hand away. I tried to pull my purse, but I only had one hand to spare; the boy had two. I screamed and chased after them, but my bike—even with the new 70 engine—was not fast enough around those windy curbs. I drove on towards the church in shock. Trying to see where they went, but no luck. There was a group of young guys parked across from the church at a café. I thought they might be the thieves, but I couldn’t be sure. It was such an unexpected blur. I didn’t even think to look at their license plate (if they had one). I slowed down to look if they had something small and black in their hands, but one of them saw me looking and started to whistle, most likely thinking I was checking them out.
I pulled into the church to gather myself for a few seconds. The grounds were dark, but church-goers were making their way to the church on the hill. I briefly thought about going inside, but the parking place was dark and there was nobody to watch the bikes. A woman pointed towards the church telling me that there was parking there. I tried to start my bike…and it didn’t start. “You cannot be serious,” I thought. Of all the things I needed now was to be miles from home without a cell phone, money, and a bike that didn’t start. I tried again and again. Nothing. I rolled it around the parking lot and finally asked a Vietnamese man heading towards the church to help me kick start it. Only then did I realize that I had the keys in my hand. I knew then that I had truly lost my mind. I heard him tell his wife in Vietnamese that I had forgotten to put my key in the ignition. Yet another stupid Western woman, I suppose.
I made my way back home, wanting nothing more than to be behind the safety of my locked gate. On the way back I saw two boys with white shirts on a dark bike stopped along my street in front a little house. A group of young people are always gathered there in the middle of the night as I’m coming home from work. I slowed down to look at them while one of them was tying his shoe, but as I looked into my mirror he quickly jumped on the bike and they sped down an alley. I know they saw me as I slowed down and stared. I thought this was suspicious, but how can I know and what can I do? Maybe I’m paranoid….
As soon as I got inside I knocked on Ellyn’s door and told her what happened. Then I called my parents on Skype and talked to Sarah on the Skype chat. They gave me some perspective. I hadn’t lost relatively that much and I had escaped unscathed. I had retained control of my bike. It could have been much worse—like Ellyn who fell off her pedal bike. In fact, she was mugged at the same place I was. Obviously this is a doggy area. Perhaps it was even the same little twits. I had some breakfast, read my bible, and then went into work to talk to the office staff. They called the police and I went with one of the office workers to the station. He translated everything, I showed him where it happened, and he helped me file a police report. Many thanks to him. I don’t expect anything to happen or to be recovered, but it gives me a little piece of mind to have reported it. Immediately after filing the report I went on a bit of a shopping spree. I bought a new, slimmer wallet (one that can fit in my pockets easier), a cell phone from the same place I bought my old one (it was slightly cheaper than my old one and blue; my old one was cheaper than I thought), and a new pair of “designer” sunglasses. I need to be more careful about keeping these things attached to my body in the future.
The rest of the afternoon I stayed in the house and got a few things done. I fell into a dead sleep for an hour. I was drifting off at the police station sitting in the open room with no doors, no computers, and cracked walls. The lazy mid-morning heat was getting to me. Then I met the ladies from work at school to walk up big mountain. We parked our bikes in a side street parking lot, found a quicker, steep path up the rocky side of the mountain. I was sweating buckets as usual, but it was a good workout. The top of the mountain is being shaped into a park. Eventually they’re going to have gondoliers going up from the base of the mountain. I thought it was nice up there. It’s a very peaceful and beautiful place. The view is amazing. As we walked down the paved road the sun was setting red across the sea—sailor’s delight. The path is lit and there were quite a few Vietnamese people making their way down. The city lights are gorgeous—like Christmas in an impressionist painting with bright, candy colors. We also stopped along the way for sugarcane juice. I love that juice.
I drove with Ellyn home and we stopped on All-Night Street to buy shakes and movies. Haha, I bought High School Musical, because all my kids are obsessed with those movies and I want to see what they’re all about. At home I freshened up and made my brunch. It’s so nice to cook again. I haven’t made brunch in Vietnam yet. That was one of my specialties and it tasted so good. I listened for the tenth time to the Easter Tape dad had converted into MP3 format and sent me. I know every song by heart. It was so comforting to have a little bit of Easter here. Also, thanks grandma for the Easter gift! I loved it. Oh, mom and dad, I just got the packing slip today for the package you guys sent. Anyway, I watched Dan in Real Life instead of HSM. Love that movie.
Like my parents’ advised, I kept myself busy the rest of the day. Only until 6 a.m. this morning did I wake up and really think how horrible that was and how much worse it could have been. Thank the Lord that I stayed on my bike and only swerved a little. Since then I have been freaking out every time I see two young guys on a motorbike or when someone comes close to my bike. I can’t help but wonder when the next attack is going to happen. How much worse will it be? Lesson learned: You can’t let your guard down for one minute—not one. I have been relatively careful, but it was one stupid, stupid mistake to take my purse instead of putting things in my pocket when I was traveling across town in the early morning. I need to make sure I’m with someone when it’s dark out. I’ve learned with Vietnamese guys that you can’t give them an inch—you can’t even glance at them or they think you’re coming onto them and they take the opportunity to whistle and make catcalls. Even if you don’t give them the time of day they’ll whistle. Maybe other women think it’s flattering, but I find it rude, immature, and offensive. I’ve learned to wear an angry (for use of a better word) look on my face as I’m traveling—a look that says I’m not going to take any crap from you. And that’s how it is. You have to constantly keep your guard up especially when you’re a petite, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman. Still, I can’t let myself live in constant fear…but always safety first. As dad said, that’s the price of traveling to strange lands.
I had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Cinderella was chased down by more ravenous wolves. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood would be a better analogy here.
I prepared all day on Saturday for Easter Sunday. I cleaned my room and a bit of the house, I went to the market (a dingy, dark place) to buy my Easter brunch of fresh, brown eggs, veggies, a pealed pineapple, and even a nice bouquet of tropical Easter flowers. I topped up my bike with petrol, bought some more minutes for my phone, and traveled to the big church next to the Mother Mary statue in the fishing village around big mountain to check what time they had Easter service. From my limited knowledge of Vietnamese, I gathered that the sunrise service was truly at sunrise—5:30 a.m. I was excited to go to an Easter Sunday service in a Vietnamese Church. I wanted to see what it was like.
The next morning I woke up at 4:30 a.m. I wanted to get to church a little early, since I assumed that it would be crowded and I wanted to get a decent seat. I packed my purse with my camera, cell phone, sunglasses, and wallet with the limited amount of cash I always carry with me for safety sake. Little did I think that the pockets on my kaki Capri’s were deep enough to hold the needed items for traveling across town. I quietly made my way downstairs and out the gate. I started up my motorbike (now finally fixed with a 70 engine). It purred to life and off I went in the cool of the morning. The moon was still up in the sky and twilight still lingered as I drove along the harbor. I was actually up before most Vietnamese! I didn’t think that was possible, yet there were still many people along the boardwalk having their morning constitutional and doing their light exercises. It was refreshing to be out at this time.
I was lost in thought as I climbed up the side of the mountain—the ocean to my left and the rocky cliff to my right. All of a sudden I felt a presence behind me and a motorbike zoomed so close to my bike it touched it. There were two teenage boys wearing white shirts and the one on the back quickly reached towards the hook that latched my purse to the bike. I always kept the purse nestled on the rack between my legs feeling it would be safe enough there and ignoring the warnings people gave me that I shouldn’t carry one at all. I loved that purse. I was perfect—lots of pockets, classy with a bit of an Asian flavor. Then before I knew it my purse was quickly moving away from me and then forever out of my sight. The boys laughing at the clever little trick they had pulled. It was all a blur, but from what I remember I had tried to kick and move his hand away. I tried to pull my purse, but I only had one hand to spare; the boy had two. I screamed and chased after them, but my bike—even with the new 70 engine—was not fast enough around those windy curbs. I drove on towards the church in shock. Trying to see where they went, but no luck. There was a group of young guys parked across from the church at a café. I thought they might be the thieves, but I couldn’t be sure. It was such an unexpected blur. I didn’t even think to look at their license plate (if they had one). I slowed down to look if they had something small and black in their hands, but one of them saw me looking and started to whistle, most likely thinking I was checking them out.
I pulled into the church to gather myself for a few seconds. The grounds were dark, but church-goers were making their way to the church on the hill. I briefly thought about going inside, but the parking place was dark and there was nobody to watch the bikes. A woman pointed towards the church telling me that there was parking there. I tried to start my bike…and it didn’t start. “You cannot be serious,” I thought. Of all the things I needed now was to be miles from home without a cell phone, money, and a bike that didn’t start. I tried again and again. Nothing. I rolled it around the parking lot and finally asked a Vietnamese man heading towards the church to help me kick start it. Only then did I realize that I had the keys in my hand. I knew then that I had truly lost my mind. I heard him tell his wife in Vietnamese that I had forgotten to put my key in the ignition. Yet another stupid Western woman, I suppose.
I made my way back home, wanting nothing more than to be behind the safety of my locked gate. On the way back I saw two boys with white shirts on a dark bike stopped along my street in front a little house. A group of young people are always gathered there in the middle of the night as I’m coming home from work. I slowed down to look at them while one of them was tying his shoe, but as I looked into my mirror he quickly jumped on the bike and they sped down an alley. I know they saw me as I slowed down and stared. I thought this was suspicious, but how can I know and what can I do? Maybe I’m paranoid….
As soon as I got inside I knocked on Ellyn’s door and told her what happened. Then I called my parents on Skype and talked to Sarah on the Skype chat. They gave me some perspective. I hadn’t lost relatively that much and I had escaped unscathed. I had retained control of my bike. It could have been much worse—like Ellyn who fell off her pedal bike. In fact, she was mugged at the same place I was. Obviously this is a doggy area. Perhaps it was even the same little twits. I had some breakfast, read my bible, and then went into work to talk to the office staff. They called the police and I went with one of the office workers to the station. He translated everything, I showed him where it happened, and he helped me file a police report. Many thanks to him. I don’t expect anything to happen or to be recovered, but it gives me a little piece of mind to have reported it. Immediately after filing the report I went on a bit of a shopping spree. I bought a new, slimmer wallet (one that can fit in my pockets easier), a cell phone from the same place I bought my old one (it was slightly cheaper than my old one and blue; my old one was cheaper than I thought), and a new pair of “designer” sunglasses. I need to be more careful about keeping these things attached to my body in the future.
The rest of the afternoon I stayed in the house and got a few things done. I fell into a dead sleep for an hour. I was drifting off at the police station sitting in the open room with no doors, no computers, and cracked walls. The lazy mid-morning heat was getting to me. Then I met the ladies from work at school to walk up big mountain. We parked our bikes in a side street parking lot, found a quicker, steep path up the rocky side of the mountain. I was sweating buckets as usual, but it was a good workout. The top of the mountain is being shaped into a park. Eventually they’re going to have gondoliers going up from the base of the mountain. I thought it was nice up there. It’s a very peaceful and beautiful place. The view is amazing. As we walked down the paved road the sun was setting red across the sea—sailor’s delight. The path is lit and there were quite a few Vietnamese people making their way down. The city lights are gorgeous—like Christmas in an impressionist painting with bright, candy colors. We also stopped along the way for sugarcane juice. I love that juice.
I drove with Ellyn home and we stopped on All-Night Street to buy shakes and movies. Haha, I bought High School Musical, because all my kids are obsessed with those movies and I want to see what they’re all about. At home I freshened up and made my brunch. It’s so nice to cook again. I haven’t made brunch in Vietnam yet. That was one of my specialties and it tasted so good. I listened for the tenth time to the Easter Tape dad had converted into MP3 format and sent me. I know every song by heart. It was so comforting to have a little bit of Easter here. Also, thanks grandma for the Easter gift! I loved it. Oh, mom and dad, I just got the packing slip today for the package you guys sent. Anyway, I watched Dan in Real Life instead of HSM. Love that movie.
Like my parents’ advised, I kept myself busy the rest of the day. Only until 6 a.m. this morning did I wake up and really think how horrible that was and how much worse it could have been. Thank the Lord that I stayed on my bike and only swerved a little. Since then I have been freaking out every time I see two young guys on a motorbike or when someone comes close to my bike. I can’t help but wonder when the next attack is going to happen. How much worse will it be? Lesson learned: You can’t let your guard down for one minute—not one. I have been relatively careful, but it was one stupid, stupid mistake to take my purse instead of putting things in my pocket when I was traveling across town in the early morning. I need to make sure I’m with someone when it’s dark out. I’ve learned with Vietnamese guys that you can’t give them an inch—you can’t even glance at them or they think you’re coming onto them and they take the opportunity to whistle and make catcalls. Even if you don’t give them the time of day they’ll whistle. Maybe other women think it’s flattering, but I find it rude, immature, and offensive. I’ve learned to wear an angry (for use of a better word) look on my face as I’m traveling—a look that says I’m not going to take any crap from you. And that’s how it is. You have to constantly keep your guard up especially when you’re a petite, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman. Still, I can’t let myself live in constant fear…but always safety first. As dad said, that’s the price of traveling to strange lands.
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