HAPPY (Lunar) NEW YEAR!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!  (For anyone following the Lunar Calendar, that is.)  We arrived in Hanoi the day before the city virtually shut down for several days.  Like, no kidding.  After dropping our bags inside the door of our new-to-us home, our coworker advised us to take a quick trip to the grocery store for any items we thought we'd need over the next several days.  She had already picked up some produce and meat for us, so we rounded that out with some staples like flour, sugar, and also random hygiene and cleaning products, since I planned to clean the house top-to-bottom... I affectionately blame (credit?) my mom for this drive to meticulously clean whenever I move in somewhere. ;)

And the next morning when we took Edward for a walk...?  Almost utter silence.  We rarely saw anyone out, except a few motorbikes and cars carrying fancy-dressed people likely headed to their family members' houses to eat and celebrate.  Store fronts were gated and locked. No sellers sat along the roads with their produce and meats.  It was eerily quiet!

Three or four days after the main holiday, we slowly started to see a few market folks selling fruits and veggies again.  A store here or there opened up and piled their wares on the sidewalks outside their storefronts.  We figured the grocery store would be open by then, so we made the 10-15 minute walk down a main street, entered the KFC on the bottom floor of the building, walked around to the staircase leading up to the small grocery store, and were met with a large sign announcing the grocery store would be closed for another few days.  (Closed for almost a week total!)  The grocery store!  Though shocking to us, I'm sure it was no surprise for most folks familiar with the flow of the Tet (Lunar New Year) holiday.

During this time, we ventured on our own to find the international church in town.  We had a wonderful experience of feeling warmly welcomed by the community.  We even made friends with several couples who have young children, too, and who also like playing board games! (Yay!)

Within the next week or so, the noise level of both day and night drastically increased as people flooded back into the city after having vacated it in favor of returning home to village areas and family homes outside the city.  The intersection we cross to get to our bus stop once had 10-15 motorbikes turning across our crosswalk as we crossed with the "WALK" sign.  Now, 40-50 motorbikes come zooming at us as we cross!  We just keep walking at a steady pace, and it's like we're rocks in a river.  The motorcycles and cars just run along around you as you move through the river of vehicles.

We're now starting our second week of work.  But we'll get to work stories in a future post.  For now, here are a few pictures from the Tet holiday!

Kumquat and peach blossom trees are important décor for the festivities of Tet.  Here, kumquat trees are for sale along the roadside.



The big sign in the middle means, "HAPPY NEW YEAR 2014!"  And, more kumquat trees for sale.  I saw several of these in storefronts, sometimes decorated with twinkle lights and red-and-gold ornaments.

Edward enjoyed receiving a few little red envelopes with small amounts of money from kind strangers!  It's Tet tradition for adults to give children these envelopes.  Edward ended up with a total of about $3-4 USD from his envelopes.

Pink and yellow peach blossom trees are the other festive Tet trees.  Our coworkers thoughtfully decorated our house with one before we arrived!  We're told that you can rent large, potted kumquat or peach blossom trees for the duration of Tet (7-10 days) for a few hundred USD!  (Can you imagine renting a live Christmas tree, and then returning it to be re-planted at the end of the season?)

First Impressions

Walking out of baggage claim and customs into the waiting area, we entered a familiar chaos.  There was the same bar to keep back the waiters from the door where the arrivers would exit.  Children (and their chasers/parents) and some who interpret rules loosely moved past this barricade with little trouble.  Searching the crowd of eager onlookers, we found what we were looking for - in bold block typeface - MCC.  Hai was there to pick us up.  He helped us to the curb where we waited in the cigarette smoke for the hired car to come and pick us up.  As we waited, the humidity in the air, the people around us, the cars passing by all had the familiar feel of our former SE Asian home.  The words they were speaking did not.

Driving from the airport to the city was a stark reminder that we were not in Central Java.  Before us was a sprawling metropolis - home to more than six million - quite different than our former home - a quaint town of less than two hundred thousand.  Then we were reminded by our new friend that the city was quiet now because of Tet (lunar new year).  After a bit of weaving and winding we arrived near our destination.

Our new home is quite different as well.  For starters, there are other homes that share two of its walls.  There is no yard.  There are two large plants growing in front, but they are in pots, not the ground.  Our new home reminds us that, though we are in SE Asia, we are not in the place we were one year ago.  We are in a new place.  A different place.

The people here seem very friendly.  We met a neighbor who speaks English.  We sat with some men at a convenience store (of sorts) that do not.  One spoke some English.  They all were eager to know us.  All of us sat smiling and wishing that we could communicate better.  And, of course, everyone is smitten with Edward.  

The busses are incredibly efficient and affordable, though not yet predictable.  Riding the bus, we were able to visit an international church.  We were warmly welcomed.  After church, we joined the group for lunch at a western-ish restaurant.  We were told that all of the Vietnamese places were closed for Tet - though it was unclear if that would have been the choice following the service.  After lunch we journeyed home. We celebrated a successful outing - successful, because we did not get lost and we managed to get off the bus at the appropriate time on both our going out and our return.

The streets are starting to fill with people.  The holiday period is coming to a close.  We are told, though stores and restaurants may start to open, it will be a few days yet before everyone gets back.  

Chiang Mai, Thailand



After leaving Seattle and crossing the Pacific, we enjoyed a nice week with our supervisors at their home in Chiang Mai, Thailand.  We had the opportunity to both recoup from jet lag a bit (yay for three days of 2:30 a.m. wake ups for the toddler -- and therefore at least one adult!) and to start learning new programs and duties for our new jobs.  Since our supervisors are the same wonderful couple who supervised us in Indonesia, it was like visiting family for a week.  Edward enjoyed splashing in their fish pond, though he wouldn't keep his hands or feet still quite long enough for the fishies to come nibble on his fingers or toes.  (We paid about $15 for fish to nibble on our feet at a spa one time... We had 9 hours to kill in the Singapore airport.  And while there's a lot to do there, on an overnight layover when all the shops are closed you just start embracing the strange types of entertainment available at 2:00 a.m.  Like a fish spa...)

 

Edward wasted no time stealing hearts and attention in Thailand. When we visited a Thai church, he quickly made friends and enjoyed hanging out with whomever would have him.  (There were a lot of willing, smiley, giggling ladies!)



 

We enjoyed some AWESOME Thai food, and also got to be tourists for a bit. The rest of these pictures are from a visit to a mountaintop temple.  Up first:  A street-side warning to anyone who was thinking about droppin' some ABCs:

 

There were A LOT of stairs to reach the top.  A LOT.  If you look very closely, you might see the top WAY up there:

 

Faint with hunger just a quarter (maybe) of the way up, we gained nourishment and energy by munching on some delicious grilled corn.  (Or, "jagung bakar", as we called it in Indo.)

 

A close-up of the shiny dragon scales.

 

Edward had a really tough ride all the way to the top.

Family photo op at the top.  There's a bit of a haze between our altitude and the city below.

Cool bells.

I just liked the colorfulness of this tree's flowers and the ribbons tied to it.

Temples, temples everywhere.

Pictures just don't do justice!  Everywhere you looked inside this temple area was SHINY!

One of many places to leave a monetary offering.

More shiny.

 

Another of many places to leave an offering.  Below, there were candles and matches, so you could drip hot wax onto the board and then stick coins to it.



It just feels different

Many times over the course of the last couple of months, we have reflected to each other that our preparations (mentally, emotionally, physically) for our new term of service have a different feel to them.  There is much that is familiar.  We have moved to a previously unvisited country before.  We have worked with MCC before.  We have lived in SE Asia before.  We have had to say goodbyes and pack for a long time in a small amount of space.  We have had to learn a new language and culture.  Five years ago, as we were preparing to move to Indonesia, we had done none of these things.  

Yet, even with having done all of those things, in each case, we are stepping into something new: new country, new position, fresh goodbyes, new language, new culture.  Oh yeah, and there’s that toddler to whom we are constantly playing second and third fiddle.  

And so it begins, feeling unknown and familiar.  

Currently, we are in an in-between space.  We have left, but have not yet arrived.  We have the good fortune to spend about a week with our supervisors in Thailand before finishing our journey to Vietnam next week.  

We are fighting jet lag, enjoying Thai street food, learning more about the work that awaits us, living out of suitcases/storage lockers, chasing Edward, laughing lots, and trying to rest.

While our preparations have felt different, we know many of the feelings that await us in Hanoi.  There is the feeling of excited enchantment while exploring a new place and meeting new people.  There is frustration of not being able to communicate with words, instead having to rely on gestures.  There is loneliness.  There is curiosity.  There is exhaustion.  There are lots of opportunities to laugh at ourselves.  And there is much to learn.

Rounding the final corner... Three weeks until departure!

I used to run the 400-meter sprint in high school.  When the starting gun fired, I took off and just kept pace with the runners around me.  I reserved the rest of my energy until coming around that final turn, when I kicked in and gave everything left in those last 100 meters.  By the time I crossed the finish line, I could barely feel my rubbery legs beneath me.  I was completely out of breath.  I was spent.

Edward and his wolf are ready to go!

While that approach worked great for high school track, it's also unfortunately the way I usually approach packing.  I go about life as usual, in denial of having any significant task before me, and then I run around like mad those last couple of days before leaving, staying up until wee hours of the morning to ready my bags for the flight that departs just a few hours later.  I start my travel already exhausted.

But I'm getting better.  Our frequent travels in Indonesia prompted me to create a packing list on my computer.  Previously, I was recreating this scribbled list on scrap paper a few days before each trip.  And we traveled A LOT.  So instead of rushing about the house trying to make sure I remember everything, now I can just open my document and mark off items as they get tucked away in a suitcase.  (I just hope that Edward doesn't feel the need to "help unpack" when I'm not looking.)

This move being a particularly significant one -- we're not packing for a week away, but instead for a move halfway around the world -- I'm trying to do things in steps and not wait until the last minute.  I've already been shopping for random clothing items and a small supply of various hygiene items to last until we figure out where to buy them in Vietnam.  I've prepped batches of homemade taco seasoning, creole seasoning, and bouillon substitute to bring along.  I'm sure we'll be able to find a lot of the same spices there, but since it will probably be a while before I'm able to say, "Could you tell me where I can find cumin?" I thought it would be nice to have some versatile favorites on hand.

My mom is helping me to sew a cloth "high chair" for Edward.  This will be a much lighter and more portable version to keep our squirmy toddler in one place during meal times, which is considerably more ideal than chasing him around with spoonfuls of food or attempting to hold him in one of our laps.  We have tried both methods on various occasions; they don't work well.

As I think of random things I want to bring along, I toss them into a box to be sorted/packed later: nostalgic Christmas decorations, measuring cups and spoons, earplugs, special batik paintings from Indonesia, a favorite coffee mug...  Keeping in mind that these items, enough clothes for a 4-season climate, and our healthy stash of European strategy games must all fit into six 50-pound bags.  We plan to use a good portion of that luggage allowance for our board games.  Nerds, you say?  Well, we're okay with that.

Walking through the fog

Last week, we strolled the foggy streets of Blowing Rock, NC.  It felt a bit surreal, only being able to see a short distance in any direction because of thick clouds hovering like smoke.

Upon returning from our trip, we were asked, "Isn't that area in the Blue Mountains just lovely?"  Well, I imagine it is lovely indeed, but the enveloping fog prevented us from seeing any evidence of the mountains sitting just beyond the limits of our vision.

As many of you know, we are moving to Vietnam in January.  And it's sometimes very difficult for me to wrap my mind around the reality that we're really moving to another new place next month.  NEXT MONTH!  As I go about each day in this little bubble of a known schedule for the next few weeks, I can't even picture beyond our departure.  My vision of what is to come just stops in late January.  Everything beyond then is a vast, dense fog.

Some days (mostly mornings... when I am full of energy) this circumstance is exciting.  I imagine the adventures, the new foods, new people to befriend, new home to set up, new language to learn, new work to explore... and I am filled with joy and readiness to embrace all the unknowns lying ahead.  Other days (mostly evenings... when I'm most tired) the exact same elements -- the new challenges, foods, people, home to set up (again), tonal language to learn, and new job -- overwhelm me and leave me feeling completely inadequate and daunted at the thought of all the uncertainty ahead.

Thankfully, I've become aware of these recurring mental and emotional swings.  (And I've decided to prohibit myself from doing too much processing of things in the evenings.)

The reality is, I know this next phase of our journey will include elements of both extremes.  I know there will be days when aspects of life in Vietnam will feel like insurmountable challenges, and other days the same things will be energizing adventures.  I will enjoy many of the new foods, and there'll probably be a few I'll hope to never eat again.  Settling into a new house will be a fun opportunity, and slowly that house will become home.  It will also probably be a source of frustration at times if things don't function the ways I want them to.  Some days, I'll feel like I'm failing miserably at learning the language, and other days I'll feel I've made immense progress.  Our work will likely be draining at times, and at other times it will be downright energizing and encouraging.

It's important to keep reminding myself that neither my glossy morning picture nor my dismal evening picture is fully accurate.  I need not fool myself with the one, nor fear the other.  Instead, I hope to be able to walk into the fog with openness and patience to embrace the mix of ups and downs that surely lie ahead.