The Familiar Foreigner

Xin chào

Welcome to Vietnam ☺️ Strap on your Andes helmet, and allow me to whisk you away to a sea of honking scooters alongside fresh earth, golden rice fields, and copper pod trees to charm you with their beckoning sway.

Scents of savory fried tofu and sweet milk flower will fill your nose once we reach the heart of Hà Nội. Be careful to not burn your calves or kick any passersby as you dismount the scooter parked on the sidewalk in front of Café Giàng. I’ve made both of these mistakes.

We’re at this café to try the famous cà phê trứng. This is a special egg coffee invented in the 40’s during a time of necessity. When there was no cream available, a man named Nguyen Giàng whisked together a combination of eggs and sugar. 

Struggle meals often stick. Not only did this creation suffice for the time being, it also became one of Vietnam’s most beloved delicacies for years to come.

At about 100mg of caffeine per cup, Vietnamese cà phê is much stronger than American coffee. Coffee shops are an impressive social component of Hà Nội’s thriving community, and often stay open until 11 p.m, or just never close. People are happy to gather for coffee well into the late hours of the night.

The most delicious and popular coffees to try are cà phê trứng, along with cà phê sữa, coffee with condensed milk, bạc xỉu, white coffee with lots of condensed milk, cà phê dừa, coconut coffee, and the recent but iconic cà phê muối, which is salted coffee with a hint of caramel.

On my first day in Hà Nội, I checked into a hostel and walked around Hoàn Kiếm lake. A very young Vietnamese girl spotted me out as a foreigner and asked if she could join me on my walk to practice her English through conversation. 

I’m like, child, where is your mother?

This girl spoke perfect English because after school, her mother made the two-hour drive by scooter each day from their village to Hà Nội for “English Lessons”. These lessons involved a hunt for approachable foreigners to speak with, and her mother safely observing from a distance. Her mother did not speak English, since they lived too far away to interact regularly with foreigners. 

Over six generations ago, my family lived northeast of Hà Nội, in the Bắc Ninh Province. While Southern Vietnam only has two seasons, Northern Vietnam is home to all four. Hence, falling leaves and Autumn poetry. 

The middle section of Vietnam is the most difficult place to live because of their monsoons from September to April. Northern Vietnam uses a 6-toned language, while Southern and Central Vietnam have 5 tones and varying dialects.

Vietnamese language is adaptable, and it boasts special meanings and imagination. Over time, it has been influenced by Chinese, French, and English.

The very landscape is full of legends and stories that connect history with symbolism. According to my Grandma, Ba Thuy, Hà Nội is the central city of the North, based between three rivers. Hà means “river”, while Nội is “middle”. It is surrounded by River Đáy River Hồng And River Nhuệ.

During the third dynasty, King Lý Thái Tổ saw a flying dragon and named the capital of Vietnam “Thăng Long”, “Rising Dragon”, for this reason. The dragon flies west from Hà Nội, over Bắc Ninh, and to Hạ Long Bay. For this reason, “Hạ Long” means “landing dragon”. Naturally, I followed the flight of this dragon and found myself in Hạ Long Bay.

I wondered if my ancestors spent their time here. There was not much development so it may have looked the same. I felt glad to experience a natural, undeveloped Vietnam. The biggest cave discovered here is called Son Dong, which is three caves beyond Hạ Long Bay. 

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On my upper right-hand side, I noticed the rocks look like feet dangling off the cliff.

In Hạ Long Bay, I hiked the Đảo Tí Tốp island, kayaked through Tuan Chau, and explored the stalagmites and stalactites of Hang Sửng Sốt cave. When Vietnamese people look at a cave, it’s like cloud watching. You’re supposed to use all of your senses to imagine different symbols and stories that the cave is telling you with its different rock formations.

When I returned to Ha Noi, different family members took me to their favorite restaurants and cafés. My cousin Tanh took me to the Lý Club. I found this restaurant to be the most interesting because it serves as a French Vietnamese cafe in the morning, a Latin American club at night, and the very hospital my Uncle was born in long ago.

Hà Nội has 36 old quarters, and my family lived right next to my hostel on 11th and 12th Hue street, after migrating from the south during the revolution in 1945. 

My Aunt took me to a café that used to be her house. She got me three different drinks: milk bubble tea, chia seed lemonade, and cà phê sữa; I liked them all a lot.

I made my way to the Múa caves by rowing through green fields of baby rice. Since it wasn’t quite rice season yet, the young green stalks were harvested to make cơm, a rare Vietnamese dish, and piled near the crops.

My great-Grandfather was an engineer for the very train you’d take to travel across Vietnam. He is among the first group of Vietnamese engineers. The railroad ran from the North to the South, and Cambodia to Laos. During that time, his wife and family moved with him from North to South, and then Laos and Cambodia all throughout the time spent working on this railroad.

From Hà Nội, I visited the surf in Đà Nẵng and the old village of Hội An.

I ended the trip in Bà Nà (Lady Ponagar) Hills before leaving for Ho Chi Minh City. 

Ho Chi Minh City was once called Saigon. There’s a noticeable political and linguistic difference between terms used by the old and young generations in HCMC. The Northern government named Ho Chi Minh City after the old president, because his strongest desire was to unite the country.

I ate incredible food in Ho Chi Minh City because I made it my mission to find everything that my Grandma would buy from the markets. This included bánh xèo, bánh giò, bún chả, bánh cuốn, xôi đậu phộng, cơm tấm, xôi khúc, nước mía, bánh giầy, giò lụa, and even bánh chưng, which I had on Vietnamese Independence Day.

I ventured out to visit Củ Chi Tunnels, and learned about the strategies that were in place for the Vietnam war. It was common for familes to crowd into their home’s 4 sq meter bunker when they heard bombs dropping. Since the Vietnamese could escape through the Saigon river, Củ Chi was chosen as the prime location between Saigon and Cambodia.

Tunnels were dug by hand with no electricity, and the Ho Chi Minh trail was long, stretching from North to South. There were 16,000 gorilla forces and 5,000 of them were women.

I thought about how babies were born in these tunnels. People tried not to enter the fighting zones or go out at night. War changed the peaceful countryside of Củ Chi. Above these tunnels 60 years ago, my Grandma had become established with her laundry business and prepared to move my family to O`ahu. 

My Grandmother is Thuy Thu-Lam Nguyên, the first Vietnamese concessioner with PX . She wrote a book about her life, “Fallen Leaves”, printed by Yale University a few years ago for the students to study about Vietnam.

Returning to Củ Chi, now that the war is over, I saw that there are still many hazards and death traps in the well preserved tunnel. It is a reminder of the privilege I live in to not witness the war crimes my family did.

I used my privilege to visit Vietnam as an appreciative tourist, while many of my elders who fled during the 40’s are unable to return because of their PTSD.

I didn’t know what to expect in Vietnam. I was afraid that I wouldn’t resonate with any of it because I am only a quarter Vietnamese. But walking in the footprints that my Grandmother left only a few decades ago sparked a deep gratitude in me. 

Returning to the motherland as a familiar foreigner, everything I’ve accomplished shows I’m a result of the sacrifices and prayers I am just beginning to understand.

I hope I’ve given a fair warning that loving Vietnam may become my whole personality for the next 3 years 😋

I plan to get my Bachelor’s degree and some TESOL classes under my belt by spring 2023. The dream is to graduate on my birthday, May 8, and move to Vietnam to teach English for a year before graduate school.

So that’s my future. It’s incredible where study abroad has lead me after saying yes to every opportunity that came my way. 

Presently, I am safe n sound in Colchester, England and spending my Autumn term at the University of Essex. For the first time, I get to watch the leaves change color as I take classes, begin my next blog, participate in clubs, and create my Gilman Scholarship community project. 

Stay tuned to learn more about the University system in England, because this really is a great school and I’m already enjoying my classes and societies so much.

Lessons Learned from Studying Abroad in Indonesia

 Hi! My name is Elizabeth and I studied abroad in Indonesia this past summer. I was in Indonesia for 6 weeks studying Biodiversity and Conservation as well as their national language, Bahasa. I had an incredible experience and want to encourage all students to study abroad, even if it's not for a full semester. Here are some lessons that I learned throughout the process:

• Don't be afraid to travel alone! There were twelve students on my trip and we all came from different universities. Nobody knew each other until we met in Indonesia. This gave us the best experience with each other and we all felt comfortable while traveling halfway across the world alone. Although it may seem daunting to go abroad alone, it makes for a more authentic experience when you are not with a friend from your university. 
• It is more affordable than you think! The HPU Study Abroad Office has compiled a list of numerous scholarships to apply to on top of any academic scholarship you may already have from HPU. If you are interested in studying abroad but are concerned with the affordability, set up a meeting with the Study Abroad Office. 
• The language barrier is not an issue. Outside of the tourist areas in Indonesia, most people do not speak English and, in fact, many do not speak the national language either, only their local dialect. My host family and I could not verbally communicate but we were still able to communicate with each other and it made for a great learning experience. I never felt uncomfortable when I couldn't communicate with others in English, we always found ways to get our message to each other. 

Brixton

Electric Avenue (sign at the very top of the picture)

Many agree that London was built on the backs of POC. A modern tragedy of this history is that it is ignored. In a United Kingdom Parliament debate, Claudia Webbe stated in Column 33WH that “black history is taught in only 10% of all schools.”

This is among a few reasons I chose to study “Diversity in London” as an elective course. History is written by the victors, so a personal value of mine to dig deeper to understand the truth of any new space I occupy. When the real story is ugly, it may be romanticized or just hidden altogether. So I basically wanted to cut to the chase right away.

In my diversity class, we read “White Teeth” by Zadie Smith, which didn’t shy away from stories of identity, cultural heritage, and the lives of immigrants in London.

I highly recommend this book, and engagement with historic museums and areas around London. Such as, the Museum of Immigration and Diversity, Chinatown, Camden Town, Kingsland Road, Migration Museum, Brick Lane, The Archives, and Notting Hill.

One special place I was lucky to have a tour of is called "Brixton". This tour was through my school but not led by my teacher. We were guided by local blue-badge tour guide, Anne-Marie Walker.

We learned about the U.K version of America’s “KKK”. They called themselves the “Teddy Boys”. They supported the Oswald facist party, and dressed in Edwardian style.

In 1959, the West Indian Gazette came about, and Claudia Jones proposed the Notting Hill Carnival.

*keynote for U.S. readers: in England, Asian people are referred to as “oriental” and  African/Caribbean people are called “west Indian”.

This carnival is important because it was an attempt for unity amongst constant racist tension and hate crimes throughout this time. 

Caribbean immigrants were not allowed to open a bank account or mortgage, so they had to band together as a community to get a house. There were up to 8 rooms per house, and entire families, like Anne-Marie’s, would live in a room with no running water or facilities. 

In 2017, the U.K. acknowledged their Caribbean soldiers for the first time. 

Though Afro-Caribbean culture is still prevalent in Brixton, gentrification is currently pushing out immigrant families who created a life there. The average price of one house is a million dollars. 

Brixton is rich with culture and incredible food, so if you find yourself there, take in the street art, stroll down electric avenue, and try a vegetable patty at East of Eden.

While you’re there, it will be beneficial to pay special attention to Brixton’s complicated history and current struggles with gentrification.

Thanks for reading :P

Stranded in Dubai

Ah, the juxtaposition between my Grandma (Bà Thuy) escaping communist Vietnam as a war refugee, and ME grueling desperately for entrance into Vietnam as a sweaty, naïve, backpacking…American tourist. 

To credit myself, I’m not unbearably sweaty, I do have a cute suitcase, and I did as much background research as possible.

But what could have prepared me for a 10 day layover, heatwaves, sandstorms, yellow fever, and… falling in love?

After I hugged my London companions goodbye, I embarked on what I already knew would be an unruly flight. I booked a cheap flight to Hồ Chí Minh City, and my layovers included Tel Aviv, Dubai, and India.

In 30 hours, I expected to be in Hồ Chí Minh city, Vietnam (the new Saigon) sharing a bowl of phở with my friend Truong, and finding family members that I hadn’t seen in 11 years. I was so excited to exercise the Vietnamese language I had been practicing.

The trip to Israel was the noisiest flight I’d ever been on. There were so many children, and at some point two seats were freed up next to me. Upon seeing this, an Israeli mother asked me if her baby could sleep there. 

Being half asleep myself, I said oh but of course! :))

I woke up with a baby I didn’t know sleeping on my lap, and went straight back to sleep. The mom couldn’t stop laughing and thanking me. So that’s the tone this adventure begins on. Crowded and silly.

I used my visa to get on my next flight to Dubai, which was difficult, but manageable. I felt excited about my layover in Dubai, because it was supposed to be 14 hours, so I could leave the airport to adventure.

When the tall, wide, UAE doors slid open, I was introduced to a gust of pure dry heat that I had never before met.

Men dressed in long white Dishdasha and women in a long black Burqa. It seemed as though everyone and everything moved slowly. Because how could anything move enthusiastically through this weather - summer in Dubai? 

My breath was ragged and I’m sure my lungs looked as though they’d tumbled and shriveled in a drying machine. 

I took a taxi to the Marina mall to begin my adventure, and when I went to pay the taxi driver, my credit card was rejected because I had a SIM card in my phone, which didn’t allow me to approve my purchase. 

So, I took out my debit card and used an Emirates Islamic ATM at the mall, to give the taxi driver some cash. 

Next, the ATM flashed “FRAUD SUSPECTED” and proceeded to…swallow…my…card. 

This is where things get interesting. A security guard lent me money for the taxi, and we went to Western Union so I could pay him back. Then we went for lunch and he got me into the Burj Khalifa by telling the management that I was a celebrity’s assistant. I found that last part out later. 

I thought this was the end to a pretty cool adventure.

HOWEVER. When I returned to the airport to check into my flight, I was denied entrance because of four things.

1. I didn’t have my India visa

2. My Vietnam visa said the wrong checkpoint

3. I didn’t have my yellow fever vaccination certificate

4. A sandstorm was coming

Ohhhhh no.

My biggest promise to myself on these travels that I KNOW will be crazy, is no crying and no mental breakdowns. This moment of rejection was the closest I’ve gotten to breaking that promise. But what help would that be? All I could do was laugh.

A quote I always seem to come back to during times of adversity is “Everything will be OK when you are OK with everything” -Michael A. Singer

5 hours later, I’m hanging out with some flight attendants that are my new friends because I’ve spent so much time at this airport. 

One of them took me to dinner when their shift ended, and gave me some cash for a hostel. My experience in Dubai was: everyone being ridiculously accommodating, feeling bad about me losing my debit card, and then blaming their religion when I questioned their kindness. Also, here they put ketchup on their pizza.

The sky was blanketed in fog when I woke up. Wait not fog - SAND.  

The sandstorm hit, something I’d never seen before.

Ok I feel like this blog is getting long so let’s wrap things up and not get too detailed. I made extremely interesting friends at the hostel that came from places I’d never seen: India, Morocco, Pakistan, Egypt, Uganda, and Texas. lol

I had so much fun, plus got myself together by getting a new Visa, yellow fever vaccine, and a DIRECT flight ticket to Hà Nội.

My friend from India celebrated her birthday and drew mehndi on my hand as I was leaving. Indian culture, food, and people were so amazing to be around in Dubai, and made me really want to visit India. Oh but now I want to see Egypt too.

My flight attendant friend hooked it up with a “friend pass” that got me an insanely cheap ticket to Vietnam on the "world's greatest airline", Emirates. It was a very fancy flight. But they didn’t ask to see my visa, yellow fever vaccine, or flight ticket. wow

That was an amazing end to my 10 day layover in Dubai and my mom is still trying to send the flight attendant homie some Hawaiian chocolates and macadamia nuts, as she does. 

Overall, I’m grateful that everything went wrong in Dubai. Because everything went right, too.

But when I touched down in Hà Nội, I nearly cried. 

I didn’t realize how desperate and eager I was to get here. Though it had been 21 years in the making, of me yearning for this panoramic place that I’d only read about in my Grandmother’s book, and heard about from my Mom.

Vietnam welcomed me like a warm hug from an old friend. With a fanny pack strapped snugly to my stomach, I triumphantly took in all the purple passion fruit, baby banyan trees, scooter traffic, and communism, that surrounded me. Which you will read aall about in my next blog!