Getting out of my country has been a dream of mine for so long. When I was hitchhiking and riding freight trains around my country, I would dream of sticking out my thumb and heading all the way down through Central and South America. Then figuring out a way to get across the ocean. Just getting myself lost in the world and dying a poor, but wise old man full of stories, who had seen everything he could manage to see.
However, fear is a bitch. I am amazed how much control and power I still willingly hand over to fear on a day to day basis. Fear aside, I was now sitting on a plane that was bound for Tokyo, and then one that was bound for Hanoi, Vietnam.
My friend Mopar(he's extremely photogenic. So brace yourself.) and his wife were waiting for me at the airport. I nearly walked right past him, which is a very difficult thing to do when your friend looks like Gandalf and carries a tricked out walking stick.
Mopar at our favorite place to stop for tea.
My friend and his wife picking me up from the airport.
When we went to Pleiku for a few days
I arrived there late at night. It took some time to calm down enough to fall asleep. I was so excited, so proud of myself. I felt like I was going to burst at the seams. The first morning I was as excited as I was terrified. I spent the first month hanging out with Mopar and following him around on his day to day routines. Which consisted of randomly walking around, drinking beer, eating at different places, and sitting in front of a fan at his family’s room during the heat of the day.
Exploring along the Red River that runs alongside Hanoi.
A shrine at the Tran Quoc Pagoda on West Lake.
Mopar standing outside the Tran Quoc Pagoda.
Some people see this and think it's a chaotic mess. However, I see beautifully ordered chaos.
Whenever Mopar would cross paths with an old man with a beard, they would always stop to admire each other, share a few gestures or words...body language, then shake hands and part. Something I won't fully understand for another 30 plus years. This man played us a couple songs and wanted a picture with Mopar.
Mopar and I were also invited on a few day trips with the landlords family. A good opportunity for their daughter, son, and granddaughters to practice some English. The landlord’s daughter had two of the cutest kids I’d ever seen.
I realized after a couple days that I had culture shock. I could only tolerate a few hours outside before anxieties would get difficult to manage. I felt incredibly stupid all day, trying to act out what I wanted and butchering the language. There was a week where I didn’t want to venture out. Just sit inside and watch familiar movies and TV shows. This actually happened a few times throughout my year long stay in Hanoi.
After about one month, I realized that his wife and I don’t see eye to eye. I decided it would be best to leave the nest. I had a growing interest in teaching English. What all it entailed, whether I’d be any good, if I would enjoy it. I thought a good place to start would be to find a place to volunteer. On workaway.info I found an organization with a large number of good reviews that seemed like a solid place to try.
I was very transparent about my complete lack of knowledge when it came to teaching. However, there are many places which are merely looking for a native speaker, or someone who speaks well enough to assist children and/or adults with pronunciation and some vocabulary.
There were two weeks available in the outskirts of Hanoi. I’d be living with a family there and teaching at the nearby school. One of the women in the family was a teacher at the school and could speak English. I remember the day I came downstairs wearing my business casual clothes, the grandma started clapping and smiling at me. I also got plenty of baby time with the owners baby boy and her sister’s baby girl. I found out that the sister’s 10 year old son loves the 3 Stooges as much as me. There are some things that don’t need language.
One of the babies(I kept forgetting names so I just called them Baby) and my buddy who'd watch Bean and 3 Stooges with me.
Teaching was incredibly stressful for me. I remember my first few days teaching, feeling like I was going to throw up at any second. Wondering what the hell I was doing. Having to learn what to do and how to do it on the spot. But it was also exciting, and I was having fun, even though I was stressed to the max. My days off I spent reading in the AC or maybe grabbing a coffee somewhere and hanging out.
One of my classes. The girls fought over who could stand next to me and hold my arm. You can clearly see the winner.
Me and some of the staff. The man's name translates to salary...so I called him Mr. Money.
I decided I wanted to keep volunteering. The lady in charge let me know that there was a month open near the, kind of, new downtown area of Hanoi. I jumped on the opening. Sometimes, life just seems to lay things out for you like nice little dominoes. So my last night with the family in the outskirts, I used Google Translate to piece together a couple of “Thank you’s” in Vietnamese, which took way way longer than anticipated. Then I was off to living in a drastically different environment. Eight to nine other foreigners living in an apartment together, with our boss and two Vietnamese workers there all day.
