I am now sitting in a Vietnamese class in Haiphong with a bunch of 12 year old Vietnamese kids taking a math class. Unlike the kids from Myanmar where there is silence no matter what you do, the Vietnamese kids are noisy, lively and rambunctious. They are all leaning over my computer looking at what I am writing. Thankfully, their English is not that good so I can write with impunity. I cannot take a candid picture of them because whenever they even get a whiff of the camera they are all posing and giving the victory sign. I gave them my card and now they are busy copying the words on the card. They are so anxious to learn they are like sponges. When the teacher started by singing a song, they were all with her like it was a rock concert. Look at the pictures to see what I mean.
I am in Haiphong to do my talking monkey routine. I am regularly paraded out in my tie, old white face and grey hair to talk to teachers, parents, managers or whoever they can dredge up to listen. One teacher said to me the other day at lunch, he was so honoured to meet me and couldn’t wait to learn from me. I got to thinking that in Canada, no matter what your credentials, no-one would give you automatic respect; you have to earn it. The colonial mentality is still in force here, even if they did kick the bejesus out of the Americans! . Here all I have to do is look old and Caucasian and they are impressed.
I was paraded in front of a university president and his cronies, and we talked for about 30 minutes. Thankfully my translator said all of the appropriate things, no matter what I said and I had time to think and appear serious. He wants me to come in and do professional development with his professors. He has never seen me teach and only knows me from what he sees in front of him. Sooner or later I am certain I will be found out. I am like the emperor with no clothes.
Yesterday, in the morning I went to visit Loa Hoa prison, probably better known to you as the Hanoi Hilton. What you probably don’t know is that it was built by the French in the nineteenth century to punish the Vietnamese rebels. What the present day Vietnamese love to do is parade out the iniquities of the enemy and since the French are the number one enemy they love to hate. The guillotine had a place of honour both in this prison as well as the museum in Ho Chi Minh City. They sure love the fact that John McCain is running for the President of the United States and they even changed some of the signs in the prison to update his pictures.
I think I now have the hang of crossing the street in Hanoi by the way. There is a never ending stream of motor scooters and if you waited for it to abate you would never get to the other side. Here is the deal : you never even have to look when you are crossing. Just take a deep breath, step out and keep walking at an even pace. The scooters will scoot around you, not a problem. If you speed up or run, you are dead…literally.
I am still alive after about 5 hours of walking around Hanoi to-night. It is a very walkable city and there are beautiful lakes and places to hide. You certainly have to get out of the din of the traffic every once in a while. As usual, a university student approached me in the park and eventually took me to supper on the sidewalk. Other than sitting almost on the sidewalk in our low chairs, the food was delicious and I have not vomited yet. Don’t know what it was and don’t want to do.
I have to go. Back to Bangkok in the morning. See ya.
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