One of these Kids is not Like the Others ...

Taiwanese pre-school class photo circa '78. I'm in the third row up from the bottom and 4th in from the left.

Removing the Blinders

After my cathartic post Tuesday I took a stroll toward Nicollet Ave. in Minneapolis. To get there I had to pass by Pho Tau Bay, a restaurant Reese and I always used to just order out from. Outside the door was a group of Vietnamese men chatting it up as usual in the afternoons and this time I could actually understand a word here and there.

I smiled at them and said, "Xin chao!" They all replied, surprised, "Xin chao!" to me, then asked in English if I spoke Vietnamese. I replied "Toi noi tien viet chup chup!" or "I speak it a little." Then I joined their discussion for 15 minutes or so.

I continued on north up Nicollet and visited a couple of the Asian grocery stores. Outside one of them were a couple middle-aged Vietnamese men squatting on a stoop engaged in conversation.

It was exactly what I needed to ease the culture shock, and it was shocking how blind I was to all this before. Yes, it helped that I could at least recognize a few words in Vietnamese when I heard them, but I think I also for a long time had a psychological blind spot when it came to Asians in America due to painful memories.

Yesterday Reese and I got together for lunch and went to, you guessed it, Pho Tau Bay. I greeted the hostess there (I believe she and her husband own the place) with "Xin chao" and got a smile. A little Vietnamese goes a long way, and before we knew it our server was telling us all about how she gets over to visit family in Saigon every other year and how the next trip might be delayed a little because she's having a baby.

The host of the place (I've got to get names next time!) is smiling at us more and engaging in conversation, making jokes to me in front of Reese about how I need to get a Vietnamese girlfriend. "I'm married to her!" I point at Reese. "Right, you need a Vietnamese girlfriend!" "No, you don't understand, I'm married." "Yes, you need a Vietnamese girlfriend!" He rules.

Thank you, Viet Nam. Thanks for reminding me.

Pictures from the 8th Wonder of the World

Our last full day in Vietnam was Sunday, May 28, 2006. It was Memorial Day weekend and the running joke was to complain that we could have been at a BBQ in the back yard but instead had to be in this dump otherwise known as Ha Long Bay:



Erika jumps into Ha Long Bay from the roof of the junk.



Reese and I sit down to lunch inside the ship.



Best crab ever.



We toured a cave in one of the many islets.



The upper deck of the junk anchored next to an islet.



I took a portrait of everyone with Ha Long Bay in the background and Ashley got me back by snapping a shot of me with my camera. Goodbye, Viet Nam!

Back Home and Processing

What a couple of weeks it's been.

I'm feeling the effects of a 36 hour Monday and only 4 hours of sleep now. This is going to be just like the first night in Saigon when I totally died in bed at 5 p.m.. Before I do, I'll try to get down some of the things going through my mind today and the people I've talked to so far on my continuing quest to reconnect with Asia.

Not to evoke cliché, but it does all feel like a dream. I've always felt some kind of magical connection with speaking languages other than English, starting with a one month trip to Spain the summer after high school graduation.

Until then I didn't really think I was that much of a linguist. I had forgotten all my Taiwanese and Mandarin just a few years after we returned to the US. Then I took high school Spanish which involved vocabulary tests and other tedium resulting in a lot of mediocre "C"s and "B"s.

I had a real talent for English, though, and worked in student journalism eventually landing the co-editor position at the Bismarck High School High Herald my senior year. Man, I sucked at that! I've never seen my parents more upset and disappointed in me. Everyone including me knew I was smarter than that but I just didn't want to do it.

Finally, high school was over and I had the one month trip to Spain all planned out. Mom coordinated a foreign exchange program called Nacel and that was the organization I went through for the trip.

I fancied myself a world traveler already at that age. Hey, I lived in Taiwan as a kid, so Spain should be no big deal, right? On the plane ride over I puffed myself up with all sorts of snobbish pride in my superior internationalism. What I discovered in Spain was extraordinary, though.

It was so foreign. Everything there was unfamiliar from the people to the cars to the smells and even the dirt. The damn dirt didn't look like anything I'd seen, for cryin' out loud! So much for Chris the World Traveler; I was dumbfounded by terra incognita in the most literal way.

The language was also a major challenge for the first week or two. There goes another shot to my ego: ooh, I could speak Chinese as a kid, Spanish will be like faking a British accent ... if only these damn Spaniards would slow down and annunciate for a second, maybe I could understand them!

By the end of the month, though, I was rockin' the fluency. My vocabulary needed a lot of fleshing out and my comprehension still sucked but man could I roll my double "r"s and hit the vowels with perfect pitch like a newly-tuned guitar. I perused a minor in Spanish in college only to find more boring, book-learning tedium. My vocabulary improved, but of what use is Spanish, anyway?

I considered a degree in linguistics, still under the illusion that somewhere in me was an amazing multi-lingual superhero just waiting to be unleashed. I took a whole year of French and then lost interest. I did learn more French speaking with the exchange students that came to North Dakota through Mom's Nacel program, though. That was fun.

Once I finally moved out of my parents house to go to Moorhead State University in Moorhead, MN I discovered they had Mandarin classes. Cool! Here was my chance to redeem myself! All I had to do was start taking Mandarin classes and one night my brain would go "snap!" and I'd be fluent again because it would all just come back to me; easy as that.

Two years later I proved, again, that I could get the tones and pronunciation right, but that mind-numbing tedium of book-learned vocabulary bit me in the ass once more.

I graduated, entered the working world and every now and then mentioned that I spoke Spanish, French and Chinese in descending order of proficiency on job applications. I took a couple Spanish-speaking calls when I worked customer service at Digital River, but that's all my tedious years of quadralingual education got me.

I floundered. Worked as a Web programmer and found it all even more tedious than vocabulary tests. I got in trouble for slacking off on the job, came close to getting fired a couple of times and then finally snapped myself out of it and got help.

About a year ago exactly I started working for WUGNET Publications, a very small company based out of Media, PA. They're a work-from-home operation and that's what I do now: general operations management of Web sites, mail servers, RSS feeds and anything else techie. It's a great job and I love it.

The job allows a great deal of flexibility, as you can imagine. One of the results of that flexibility was being able to join Reese on this trip to Viet Nam. Just take the laptop with me and I can work wherever there's a wireless coffee shop. Next time around there are some technical glitches I want to work out such as making my cell phone compatible with the Asian network, but all-in-all it worked out pretty well.

This trip was supposed to be a fun getaway with the wife and an opportunity to discover a country few Americans know much about anymore. Mom kept asking me if I was going to try to learn any Vietnamese before the trip. I more or less dodged the question. No reason to get anyone’s hopes up about my language skills. As always, I’ll probably be able to pronounce things great, but without a fleshed-out vocabulary what good is it?

Plus, two weeks is far too short a time to learn anything more than “Hello,” “Good bye,” “Thank you” and “You’re welcome.” No, I was looking forward to feeling in Vietnam the same way I felt in Spain 15 years ago: totally foreign experience rife with culture shock.

I got over the culture shock after the first day. That’s when something new started happening: waves and waves of emotion and memory coming back to me. I hadn’t forgotten anything about Taiwan, mind you, I just didn’t think about it very much:

I only lived there for three years. The other 30 years of my life have been in America, so that’s 100% who I am: American. Sure, I’ve been places and studied languages. I’m even pretty good at it. Big deal; anybody can say “Ni hao” with the proper tones if they try.

All those defenses I’d had up for 27 years to protect myself from being teased by the other American kids started breaking down. My chest was no longer puffed up with the normal American ego façade. I started automatically holding my hands at my sides, bowing my head lightly at people and smiling more.

Until that point I kept bugging Ashley, the Vietnamese-American of our group, with “how do you say ‘good bye,’ again?” several times until I remembered it. Once I let go and opened up I started learning Vietnamese at an exponential rate. After a couple of days I was constantly at Phong’s ear, asking him how to say this or how to say that. A week into the trip I was desperately searching for English-Vietamese dictionaries or phrase books.

I finally got a phrase book the first morning in Ha Noi and hungrily flipped through it looking for nouns and verbs I lacked. I tried every new phrase or sentence out numerous times on any Vietnamese friendly enough to listen. I started constructing new sentences out of words, phrases and sentences I already knew.

The memories and emotions started hitting me like a typhoon. I sat and watched hours of Chinese TV, picking up words and phrases here and there and either remembering what they meant or recognizing them but not remembering the meaning.

About this time Tim noticed I was more quiet than normal. The first week I went out with he and some of the others to party and drink. Now I went to bed at a reasonable time, got up at the crack of dawn and buried my nose in my new little phrasebook.

I began to finally understand. On bus rides to tourist traps I’d watch women in conical hats harvest rice and choke back tears. Everywhere I looked something made me feel like a kid. A couple of times I fantasized about returning to Taiwan, visiting Hai Ou, having people recognize who I am and I’d have to stop for fear of crying like a baby in front of the rest of the tour group. I wandered the night market with Long and told him to only speak Vietnamese to me and felt my American self totally and magically disappear for an hour or two.

Then I spoke with Ashley and commiserated about her childhood as an Asian-American. She was teased as a kid for being different and now her friends and family in Viet Nam say she’s got a wall up around her all the time. She doesn’t open up like they do. Holy shit, can you blame her?

I told her I felt silly for saying so, but I knew exactly what she meant. I got teased for having a funny accent and speaking very little English in 1-3 grades. I did my 1st grade math homework in Chinese. “Hey, say something in Japanese!” kids often teased me. I made it worse by correcting them: “I speak Taiwanese, not Japanese!”

This coming from a kid with hair so bleached blonde from the Taiwan sun it was almost white.

Bottle it up. Don’t speak Taiwanese. Speak English so the girls will like you and the boys won’t beat you up. Put up a wall. Forget Taiwanese and Chinese. They don’t want that here.

I got so good at being American I forgot who I was. I believed what everyone else told me that being different was bad. Be just like everyone else. Don’t pronounce Spanish perfectly, screw it up. Don’t talk to that Asian co-worker about Asia, they’ll think you’re secretly racist and trying to cover it up. Don’t tell your white co-workers you lived in Taiwan or that you speak other languages, they’ll assume you’re being boastful or condescending. Act as nonchalant as possible when someone else outs your Taiwanese past. It’s not that interesting. No, I don’t think your childhood was boring compared to mine. I just lived there, who cares? Let’s talk about sports instead or the fucking weather. Let’s talk about anything, anything at all as long as we don’t talk about Taiwan. Please? Please stop!

Woah. OK. Back to writing after a cathartic, 5 minute cry that last paragraph envoked. Don’t know if I should continue from there or not. I just never realized how painful it’s been for me to feel so profoundly disconnected from what turns out to be a significant part of my childhood. These last two weeks I’ve felt more mature, purposeful, capable and connected than I can remember. I’ve also cried enough to make some employee of Kleenex very rich.

Two nights before we were due to fly back home I started feeling depressed. I fell in love with Viet Nam. I could smile at anyone on the street, nod and say “Xin chao” and expect the same in return. Things here were possible and when I spoke Vietnamese, bowed my head or lit a bundle of incense at the temple nobody looked at me funny. Nobody thought I was some pretentious westerner faking he’s Asian. One of the women at the juice and coffee bar at the Ha Noi hotel asked me if I lived in Saigon because of my accent.

When I tried to pray with a bundle of incense Saturday morning I had trouble getting the sticks lit. A middle-aged Vietnamese woman next to me gently grabbed my hand and pointed the sticks down into one of the flaming bits of paper. She spoke Vietnamese to me as if she knew I didn’t want to hear English. I responded with a very gracious “Cam u’n ngyun.” but quietly. Once they were lit she motioned for me to shake the flames out so the incense would smoke. I did so, thanked her again and walked slowly to the altar.

I held the bundle in the lotus position and prayed. All I said was “Thank you, xie xie, cam u’n …” two or three times and then stuck the bundle upright in the pot. I don’t remember the phrase in Taiwanese anymore but once I relearn I’ll be sure to add it to the prayer.

Then I sat and meditated by the lake. I just noticed words popping into my head and let them fall into an abyss. Some were English, some Mandarin and some Vietnamese. I’m a beginner when it comes to meditation, so I did it for maybe 5 minutes before deciding to move on. I walked slowly around the lake, hands held behind my back. I thought about an earlier wish, that I wanted to be buried in Hai Ou. I was so happy to think about that I almost teared up yet again.

I’ve never felt that way about dying before, just the bleak, existential pull to the abyss. For the first time I thought about dying, being laid to rest near the black sand beaches of Hai Ou, just over the dike near the new ICA building where the preschool used to be. For the first time I thought it’d be OK to die, and I’d be ready and happy to go and rest there. Things would be complete so I wouldn’t have to worry.

So, yes, I don’t mind saying it now. I’m an Asian-American. My name is Chris Druckenmiller and I am from Solen, ND where I learned to be sad. Wo jiao Teng Ke Wu hai who shi de Hai Ou, Taiwan zai wo gao xing.

This morning my parents told me that Ke Wu is a kid’s name. Apparently I’m overdue for a grown-up name.

Name Jokes

Just a quick post on something funny that happened one time back in Viet Nam:

One member of our group was named Georgia. She's still in-country, I believe, travelling with Nia. Man, I'm jealous!

Yet I digress ... I think it started with someone being all "cool" and calling her "Georgette."

Phong and Long overheard this and started laughing. Georgette sounds very close to a Vietnamese swear word that literally translates as "dead dog."

Later on I was telling them how funny it was to me that a name like "Georgette" would sound like a swear word to them because of all the cheesy, redneck-esque jokes in America about double entendre Asian names. You know: Long Dong, Hung Wel, Medong Hunglo and so on?

I explained to Long the meaning behind the English slang "Hung." He chuckled and then said, "No, in Vietnamese it means 'Hero.'"

"Oh!" I said, "So it means the same thing!"

We all got a great laugh out of that.

Hubris

Just wanted to write a bit about the change in attitude between America and Vietnam. Indeed, there's a change in attitude over time for myself and everyone else on the trip as we've been here.

Last week I taught Long the greeting "Sup, dude!" and the body language that went with it. I told him to tilt his head back while maintaining eye contact. He greets me every now and then by saying "Sup, dude!" and tilts his head way back but looks straight up; unable to make eye contact. He told me doing so would be far too aggressive.

Makes sense. The greeting is a way American men say to each other "Hey, I'm a tough, macho, stand-offish dude. If I smile too much or let down my guard you'll jump all over it." Here, it's the exact opposite: hands at your sides, bow lightly, smile and pleasantly say "Xin chao! Chao ban."

In Viet Nam, the first thing you do is let down your guard. Once you get to know someone, then you can get serious and talk and debate. In America, you put up your guard and only after you get to know someone do you open up and become friendly.

America is the worst place to meet people.

A couple days ago I posted about how angry some of the other Americans on the tour made me because of the attitude they copped here. My parents read this blog, of course, and Mom sent me an email saying I shouldn't be so hard on the others in the group. You can't blame them for feeling uncomfortable in such a foreighn place.

She's completely right, and if anything I was the one copping an attitude and acting superior. For that I feel pretty embarrassed.

Yesterday conversations between myself and the students were noticeably different. There was much more of the Vietnamese lack of hubris among us. I would make an observation about something, someone else would say they disagreed with my observation and I would very honestly and curiously ask them why. Then I'd listen to their reasons intently, give my very humbled reaction to their observations and they'd do likewise.

Rather than the standard American left vs. right debate everything degenerates to everyone more and more was engaging in a more open, explorative discussion. More and more we're letting go of our arrogance and accepting.

Perhaps that's why this country has pushed me over the edge toward Buddhism for good? The whole attitude here is Buddhist. It's OK to just let things happen, because that's how good is done. Stop trying to control everything and just let go.

Photo Innundation

Finally got a great connection here at a coffee shop in Ha Noi. So, here's a big collection of pictures from the past few days.



Tracy, Mandy and Nia at the marbleworks.



My beautiful wife.



My beautiful wife's photographic eye.



Cyclo in Hue.



"Xin chao!"



Iconic hats



Whoever guesses correctly as to what these are gets a cookie.



Our tour guide, Long, and Prof. Hollister



More of my beautiful wife's photographic eye



Courtney and Reese here. I know Courtney's reading the blog now as are friends and family and she liked this picture.



Group photo. Everyone's saying "dong!"



Finally! Picture of the "Vietnamese Hope Wheels" I told you all about.



Tour guide in training, Phong, and his smile caught on camera. Courtney asked me if I had a picture of Phong smiling and then all the other women perked up and talked about how they liked his smile.

So, I started telling poor Phong "Dude, you're so money and you don't even know it!" He's still learning English as part of his training to be a guide, so of course he didn't know what I was talking about.

But, I wanted a good picture of his lady-killer smile, so I explained "money" to him. I turned my camera on first and made sure it was ready to snap a quick photo. I told him it meant all the girls liked him and all the men bowed down to him because he was the king and it's because he doen't realize how cool he is.

He laughed, turned red and smiled. Then I lifted up the camera quickly and closed the shutter. Success!



Tiger Beer at Hue airport. Silly Americans. Well, Katie, Adam, Erika, Raechel and Tim from left-to-right, specifically.



Danielle reads a guide book while Katie writes in her journal at the hotel here in Ha Noi.



Just a great picture of Rebecca.



Leanna and Ashley at Ha Noi University. I had a great talk with Ashley yesterday when she was the first to point out my bi-cultural history. We commiserated on the Asian-American experience.



Flowers and a flooded boat by the pagoda where I prayed and meditated this morning.

More pictures to come, I promise!

Bi-Cultural

What can I say? I'm an Asian-Euro American.

I don't say this to be flip, coy or pretentious, even tough that's how I'm sure it comes out from a white American boy like me. But, being here in SE Asia again for the first time in 27 years has opened my eyes to who I am and helped me remember a part of myself I'd forgotten. Sure, I'm Chris Druckenmiller from Bismarck, ND. I'm also Teng Ke Wu from Hai Oh, a small fishing village south of Gaoshung, Taiwan.

I may have been born in Rockford, Ill, but I spent three very formative years of my childhood speaking Mandarin and Taiwanese, filling in the big red field of the Taiwanese flag with crayon and getting my knuckles rapped with a ruler by Lao Shu if my fingernails were dirty.

When my family moved back to the states I was 6 years old and an outcast. There were other students with blonde hair and pale skin like me but they laughed at my accent and broken English. I got teased and for years people would anger me by asking me to "Say something in Japanese!"

I got over it. I forgot all my Mandarin and Taiwanese except "Ni hao!" (hello) and gradually Americanized myself. Only now have I realized that I never did completely convert myself. Only now do I realize I'm an adult with a bi-cultural upbringing.

As I walk the streets here in Ha Noi I say "Xin chao!", nod my head, smile and get big curious smiles back at me. I can start to hear how my accent sounds to them. I don't know if it's a Saigonese accent because I'm dragging out the "chao" at the end or if I've started speaking like someone from Ha Noi. Either way, I know I do not sound American. Hell I don't sound western.

Do I sound Taiwanese? Do they smell the poor, low-class fishing village on my breath when I speak? Either way, I'm the oddity here.

This trip started out as a cool little vacation for Reese and I. It started turning into a business expedition as I saw the potential for development in Asia. Now it's become a life-changing experience.

I want to get the small company I work for in here and negotiate deals to make money for my company, my family and Asia. I want to build a second home in Hai Oh and split my time between there and the victorian Reese and I already own in Minneapolis.

I want to be buried in Hai Oh.

Leave it as that for this morning. I've got some iced, Vietnamese coffee to drink and email to check. Here's to hoping you and your family find wealth and happiness in whatever you do, too.

A Day to Ourselves in Hue

Reese and I got a great night’s sleep here in Hue. The hotel is gorgeous and the nicest we’ve stayed in. This part of the country is obviously more developed and modern than in the south and especially compared to the Mekong Delta.

Da Nang was especially modern and clean, but a lot of that can be attributed to the destruction it suffered during the war. The whole town’s been rebuilt and is a wonderful testament to Vietnamese resilience.

Yesterday was a long day. Woke up for the second morning in Na Trang and didn’t have to get on the bus to the airport until 10 a.m.. The plane ride to Da Nang was a little longer than the one from Saigon to Na Trang, but it was followed up by a long bus ride.

We visited a Chum culture museum, silk weaving factory and marbleworks shop. Lots of beautiful things to see but the group was getting quite weary, especially after visiting yet another market, this time in the small town of Hoi An.

The culture for shopping takes getting used to for us westerners. A shop owner came up to Reese and I on the street and struck up a conversation, then asked if we wanted to see her new shop. She just opened it four days prior and was obviously very proud. She had many silk wares including dresses, skirts, men’s suits and ties.

Unfortunately, she would have had to custom-make our clothes, and we didn’t have more than a few minutes. I kept telling her “Xin loi, xin loi,” or “sorry, sorry.” She really went out of her way to very nicely invite us to the shop and we might have bought something if we had more time. Closer to the bus Reese did go into a shoe store, though, and was able to quickly try on a nice pair of red flip flops.

Once we got back to the bus the day turned sour, however. Reese and I have been having the time of our lives here. She’s absolutely in love with the food, the people and the scenery. I’m enjoying all that and am pleasantly surprised to be learning Vietnamese at a lightning pace.

Some of the students on the trip, however, are doing a fine job of representing the ugly, arrogant American. Today we had a choice to either go back on the bus and tour with the group or take it easy and be on our own. Reese and I took the opportunity to ditch the group because I’m sure we’d end up saying things we’d later regret.

Instead, I’ll say the potentially regrettable things here and the people from our tour I’ll likely offend can read at their leisure.

Specifically, one young woman was bragging about how she was enlightening our tour guides about sexism, power and equality. They were telling her how it’s OK for men to sleep around but not women. She asked them why and they laughed.

What she took from the experience was how ignorant these two men seem to her and couldn’t wait to regale the rest of us with how she expanded their narrow horizons. She valiantly educated them about concepts such as oppression and the evils of one group of people having power and superiority over another.

I wanted to ask if she’s going to kick over Buddha statues and replace them with crucifixes for an encore. Luckily for everyone I bit my tongue.

How is this attitude any different than that of all the other conquerors who’ve been pushing Viet Nam around for over 1000 years? Since the mid-70s Viet Nam has been deciding what’s good for Viet Nam for the first time ever in its history. Who the hell is this woman to come here and start pushing them around again?

Yes, she considers herself liberal, enlightened and open-minded. That’s why I want to take her aside and explain to her just how imperialistic and ugly she’s being although I doubt she’d listen.

So, today Reese and I take a break from the group, try to remember only the wonderful things we’ve experienced so far and take in some new sights, sounds and smells as we tour Hue.

Busy Weekend of Pictures

More pictures time time from our weekend to My Tho and our current locale, Nha Trang.



Tea and fruit at a shelter among the gardens of one of the islands in the Mekong Delta. Long here demonstrates how Vietnamese dip pineapple in salt. Try it!



One of the boys singing with accompanyment while we enjoy tea and fruit.



Reese and the python. Better her than me.



U of Minn students trying their hands and feet at crossing the monkey bridge.



Two little girls who were gracious enough to stop so I could snap their picture.



A canoe ride along one of the canals on the island.



The market in My Tho. Saigon's markets sell everything from food to t-shirts to trinkets. This one just sells food. Adam, Mandy and Reese (behind Mandy) are pictured here. Mandy is almost 6 ft tall and Adam is a few inches taller than her. It was fun watching everyone gawk at those two.



Kitten in a tree! Reese snapped this photo outside a restaurant in Saigon just before we flew out to Nha Trang.



Long points out some bits of history to Reese and Professor Dimrock at a Chum (sp?) pagoda in Nha Trang.




















Two little boys posing for my camera with a very large Buddha in the background.



Coconut milk being prepared on one of the islands in the South China Sea. Here they call it the Vietnam Sea, of course.



Reese in front and I in back of a parasail.



The beach at another of the many Vietnam Sea islets. I learned to snorkel today. It wasn't easy at first as I'm certainly not at home in the water. But, once I got the hang of it the experience was quite relaxing, which was a pleasant surprise for me.

That's all for now! The internet connection here has been flaky, so this post took way longer than I intended.

The Friendly Side of the World

Reese and I were apprehensive at first with how the Vietnamese would treat us. I mean, our countries were at war for a long time and that type of thing does tend to make friendship tricky.

After a week here, though, I can't help but love Vietnam. I've finally realized the proper way to be is smile all the time, nod (bow) to everyone you see on the street and say "Xin chao." I always get a big smile and "Xin chao, xin chao!" in response. Yes, there are a lot of street vendors and some of the cynical westerners here are quick to pass it off as them just being friendly to your wallet. I don't believe that for a second.

This weekend we were in My Tho, a small city of 300,000 people on the Mekong River. I'll get pictures of that ready for later and I took a lot of them. I got a real glimpse into the future of Vietnam's tourism industry there.

We had lunch on one of the islands in the middle of the river where they grow many varieties of fruit. They treated us to afternoon tea accompanied by pineapple, jack fruit, dragon fruit and many others. As we drank tea and snacked some musicians played traditional music. One woman sang along with them and then two young boys in traditional clothes sang some more songs. Again, I've got lots of great pictures, so just wait.

Lunch was on another island and afterward I got up to wander. The whole place was like one huge, well-manicured garden with some small, stone arch bridges over the little canals. I found a narrow bridge over one canal made of a log no thicker than 6 inches with a bamboo railing. It reminded me again of Taiwan where I have memories of sitting on my dad's shoulders as he traversed narrow planks across canals to get from one part of Hai Oh to the other.

Once across that bridge I saw a man getting a huge python out of a cage. Just then the U of M students caught up with me and all the women took their turn holding the snake. Again, pictures of that to be posted later. None of the men wanted to hold the snake. I don't do live snake, thank you very much!

Right next to the python area was a monkey bridge. Another bridge made of narrow logs with bamboo railing but raised up and much longer. Took some more pictures of everyone trying it out, testing their balance and mettle by making it all the way from one side to the other.

I loved that everything was just there for you to discover, and one beautiful, amazing thing naturally led to the other. It reminded me of a Japanese tea garden except that right next door were obvious signs of poverty. We saw where people made coconut candy and got a tour of a traditional Vietnamese rural home.

Our guide, Mr. Long, told us that we could just walk into anyone's house in My Tho whenever we wanted just before he walked into a room where an old woman was taking a nap. She got up, smiled at him and excused herself so we could see her bedroom.

This, of course, made us Americans very uncomfortable, but I've grown to trust Mr. Long well enough and blazed the way. Then I finally remembered something from my childhood.

I once got in trouble at the age of 8 or 9 when I lived in southern, rural ND. My mom one day sat me down and explained that I couldn't go over to my friend's houses when they weren't around and play with their toys. I didn't understand why I couldn't, but respected Mom's wishes, of course.

I'd learned in Taiwan that kind of behavior was acceptible. I went over to my friends houses whenever I wanted and played with their toys, slept in their beds, ate their food and nobody thought ill of me.

So, it's the same here. To westerners it's so very foreign, and we think of it as a lack of privacy. I believe the Vietnamese don't see it that way. They don't believe they lack anything except a sense of imposition. You're never in anyone's way and you're never inconveniencing anyone. That's why traffic can be slow, chaotic and hectic and when you cross the street people slow down their scooters, look at you, smile and say "Hello!"