tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43466621432745674502024-03-13T13:29:56.433-07:00The Hanoi Gordon-Buxbaums 2011-2012Chuck's account of moments and images from our year abroadChuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-13394458080846406492012-06-15T09:27:00.000-07:002012-06-15T09:27:04.779-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After 10 months getting around the city on bicycle, we decided to rent a motorbike for our last three weeks. It's convenient to just hop on the motorbike and take our daughters where they need to go. It's also cheaper -- renting a motorbike is just $55 a month, but we were spending more than that just to have Amali driven by motorcycle taxi back and forth to her school. <br />
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But I wouldn't have done otherwise. I figured out that I have averaged 8-10 miles per day on my bike. Mutiplied by about 270 days that we were here in Hanoi, and I have clocked about 2,500 miles by bicycle. I feel more fit than I have in years. One of the things I will miss most is living without a motor vehicle. I love filling the basket on my bike with groceries. I feel safer on my bike too. despite their complete lack of consideration and disregard for safety here, people still generally yield to bicycles. <br />
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The streets are lawless -- red lights are mere suggestions. When people do stop for a red light (about 4 seconds after it turns red, red numbers begin to count down until the next green. But no one waits for the green -- at about 3 seconds before, they begin to ride into the intersection, weaving in and out of the oncoming left turns and the people who've continued into the intersection after their lights went red. Most intersections have no signals -- you just have to time it -- so that you don't hit the oncoming or turning traffic, and hopefully avoid pedestrians as well. There is no such thing as a stop sign, and you can turn left or right from any side of any intersection without stopping or yielding. My peripheral vision was well trained this year. </div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-49178777735738934982012-06-15T09:23:00.000-07:002012-06-15T09:23:01.908-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YPiKvnTn93A/T9thERMsnhI/AAAAAAAAAPs/W9e0SqlWp68/s1600/P1110507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YPiKvnTn93A/T9thERMsnhI/AAAAAAAAAPs/W9e0SqlWp68/s320/P1110507.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Esther Kovari and I traveled to My Chau for a couple days. In the evening we were treated to a folk dance performance by the Ethnic White Thai people of the village.</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-82989035012867409292012-05-27T21:06:00.001-07:002012-05-27T21:06:18.061-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lhswk6hmix0/T8LyBMDn-bI/AAAAAAAAAPg/xxCStm_7bRU/s1600/IMG_0996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lhswk6hmix0/T8LyBMDn-bI/AAAAAAAAAPg/xxCStm_7bRU/s320/IMG_0996.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Sivan's firework birthday candles were a hit!</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-9331875198493685372012-05-27T19:20:00.001-07:002012-05-27T19:20:19.968-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dKiP5kdhNno/T8LIV7FEc_I/AAAAAAAAAO0/Z_dr6ExZ9EI/s1600/IMG_0813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dKiP5kdhNno/T8LIV7FEc_I/AAAAAAAAAO0/Z_dr6ExZ9EI/s320/IMG_0813.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Amali going for the ball! <br />
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What a great year for her -- being in a school with only 25 kids per grade has given her opportunities to play sports, perform music, and take on leadership responsibilities. She has grown with the experience. She came a child and returns a young woman.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-doAvLmXKa1E/T8LZzTmNVTI/AAAAAAAAAPI/TYql4h35O9A/s1600/IMG_1077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-doAvLmXKa1E/T8LZzTmNVTI/AAAAAAAAAPI/TYql4h35O9A/s320/IMG_1077.JPG" width="320" /></a>Well, sometimes.</div>
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</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-47027814474995725622012-05-03T18:53:00.002-07:002012-05-03T18:53:48.052-07:00The pineapple lady in the alley by my building<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-47477379695357987992012-05-03T18:35:00.000-07:002012-05-03T18:35:14.828-07:00Planning the return<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Record heat wave in Hanoi -- It is early May. Normally the temperature hovers in the low 30s. But this week we had four days of >39 Celcius, with a 42 C maximum on Weds. Air Conditioners can only do so much against the heat in uninsulated buildings. The swimming pools opened this week and yesterday Becky and I lifted at the gym for a half hour and then moved to the pool where we swam for another 45 minutes. I hope to make this routine, time permitting.<br />
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But we have shifted gears here, from "living the expat life" to "planning our return." Becky is looking at new teaching positions in APS, I am planning how I will approach my new role as Coordinator of Environmental Initiatives at Sandia Prep. Amali has begun studying for her Bat Mitzvah, both girls are trying to figure out their "sleepover schedule" to visit with friends when they return. <br />
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I have spent hours, mostly late at night when the internet is faster and people are awake in the West making travel arrangements and summer plans for our family. <br />
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Here is how our summer is shaping up:<br />
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Becky and I finish school in late May. Our friend Esther comes to visit and she and Becky travel together, while I stay home and pack lunches and shop for food and withhold allowances and experience all the other joys of parenting teenagers.<br />
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Sivan and Amali finish school on June 15 and board their plane on June 17 for the 27 hour ordeal back to ABQ via Tokyo and Dallas. They have two four-hour layovers. Am I worried? They are too old for unaccompanied minor services, but are they old enough to go it alone? I am confident that they are.<br />
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Becky and I will not return to the US until July 5. We are trying to figure out where we want to travel. We could keep it really cheap and travel over land through Laos and Cambodia. Or we can take a reasonably cheap flight to Kuala Lumpur and relax on the beaches of Malaysia. Or we can spend a bit more and visit the Myanmar before it gets spoiled after it completely opens up to tourism. Tough choices are better than no choices. <br />
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The girls will stay with their grandparents and arrange for visits with friends. After 8 days, Sivan will board a plane for New York on June 26. She will head up to Camp Naaleh, near Oneonta in Upstate NY (a recently revived incarnation of the camp her father and aunts attended in their youth) for 3 1/2 weeks. <br />
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Amali will go up to Hummingbird Music Camp in Jemez Springs for two weeks beginning July 1, after which she will go to Comedy Camp for a week at The Box theater. Then Chuck and Amali will fly to NYC on August 21 and pick Sivan up from camp on Aug. 22. Back to Brooklyn and then Sivan heads back to ABQ on Aug. 25. Chuck and Amali hang out with the NY cousins a few more days and then drive up to Maine to visit the Connecticut cousins. Then back to NM on Aug 2. One more week and then Folk Dance Camp -- at least the girls will go. Then back to School on Aug 13 for Chuck and Becky, Aug 14 for the girls. <br />
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Somewhere in there we have to make time to visit dentists, orthodontists, pediatricians, veterinarians, rabbis, cantors, DMV and driving schools (for Sivan), principals, and friends. No problem. (Mostly, we expect friends to come to us).<br />
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I have had to buy health insurance for a couple months, and have begun shopping for a second car -- Toyota Prius, Honda Fit, or Mazda 2? Any other votes? <br />
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Keep cool.<br />
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Chuck</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-63250202243188839432012-05-03T17:57:00.000-07:002012-05-03T17:57:37.820-07:00Big Vietnamese roly-polies displayed on the mountain path to the Perfume Pagoda in Hanoi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-60250440921739956402012-04-26T10:44:00.001-07:002012-04-26T10:44:20.645-07:00Too Many Charicatures of Americans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">This blog post reflects my observations of the growing Vietnamese middle class.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have had my students read excerpts from Thomas Friedman’s 2008<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><u>Hot, Flat, and Crowded</u> in which the
author links climate change, economic growth and the communications revolution,
and population growth to explain the major world problems – war, poverty,
disease, famine, government instability, tyranny, and loss of biodiversity and
depletion of natural resources.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a
journalist, his sources – personal anecdotes, recalled conversations, and news
summaries – are less rigorous than I would prefer, but his presentation is clear
and his writing accessible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He begins and ends the book with the not-so-new idea that everyone
wants to be just like Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
ambition of every family, every city, every nation is to develop a wealth that
will allow for all people to live become like us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then goes on chapter by chapter to convey
the dire consequences of 2-3 billion “Americans” instead of the 350 million in
our country and another 500 million or so scattered about the globe today. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Humanity already lives beyond its resource
supply, so doubling or tripling the number of affluent consumers will lead to
disaster after disaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Petrodictatorships”
and terrorists, Crash of fisheries and loss of productive farmland, and the
looming costs of the climate crisis are three examples. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friedman gives credit to the great benefits
of technology, the internet and wireless communications as economic equalizers:
Every developing country now has a growing middle class, creating a snowballing
effect of investment, growth, consumption, and more investment, growth and
consumption...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this same middle
class constitutes the “Too Many Americans” of his thesis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I have seen this year in Vietnam suggests that the perception
of definition of what it means to be an “American” is part of the problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The middle class in Vietnam, and elsewhere in
the developing world is preoccupied with status symbols – Large Mercedes
sedans, SUVs, or high-end sports cars are the vehicles of choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen more Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and
Maseratis driving around the crowded streets of Hanoi that in New York or
Chicago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other displays of wealth
include the constantly growing houses, and construction of massive 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup>
homes out in the country; shopping only at brand name stores in dozens of new
western-priced shopping malls going up all over town; and eating lots of meat,
less rice, and increasingly, western foods like ice cream and chocolate. Middle
class Vietnamese families do everything possible to send their children to (a)
boarding school in the US, (b) boarding school in Australia, Canada, or
England, or (c) international school here, all in hopes that their kids will go
to university in the US. But the school system here is not training critical
thinkers who will pursue a liberal arts education abroad – just consumers who
will study business, finance, economics or engineering so that they can get a
high paying job so that they can buy a bigger car, build a bigger house, take
expensive shopping vacations to Kuala Lumpur or Singapore… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are almost no overweight adults in Vietnam, but an
increasing number of overfed children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
see parents chasing their children around the lobby of my building or in
sidewalks and alleys, bowl and spoon in hand, forcing the child to eat and eat
and eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vietnam is one generation away
from food insecurity, subject to the whims of drought and flood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their eating habits – eat as much as possible
now because tomorrow we may have nothing – haven’t changed, whereas the caloric
content of their foods have double or tripled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what have the
imported from our culture – material consumerism, worshipping the dollar, and a
preoccupation with advertising wealth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But they have not adopted our inventiveness, our appreciation for
nature and conservation, or our value of education for its intrinsic benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do we begin to export those qualities of
Americanism? I don't know. We achieved our wealth by depleting our resources and despoiling our land. Their mimicry of our overt symbols of wealth is understandable. Sadly, the less visible yet equally American qualities of social justice and personal responsibility remain unknown and invisible. </span></div>
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</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-59939120854637577442012-03-25T10:01:00.001-07:002012-03-25T10:01:28.030-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-28821439147202886292012-03-25T01:03:00.002-07:002012-03-25T01:03:43.173-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6EdcEpFRjpo/T27H7FyoOXI/AAAAAAAAAMw/CRIY5LP07c0/s1600/P1100727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6EdcEpFRjpo/T27H7FyoOXI/AAAAAAAAAMw/CRIY5LP07c0/s400/P1100727.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11 year old boy in Khanh Village next to Cuc Phuong National Park.<br />
Never thrown a disc but within 15 minutes was throwing forehands and backhands. <br />
I gave him the dis in the evening and the next morning, he and friend were out with it on the soccer field.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6IunlF4ScP8/T27IJsBXRII/AAAAAAAAAM4/IqbxwA-YbA0/s1600/P1100732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6IunlF4ScP8/T27IJsBXRII/AAAAAAAAAM4/IqbxwA-YbA0/s400/P1100732.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing out of the Khanh village valley at the beginning of our 10 mile hike through Cuc Phoung National Park <br />
(March 2012) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y4Z4CWnVqEg/T27JTxWdDBI/AAAAAAAAANg/PJ4HtkZ_dS8/s1600/P1100734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y4Z4CWnVqEg/T27JTxWdDBI/AAAAAAAAANg/PJ4HtkZ_dS8/s400/P1100734.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew Sanborn, Anna Oakes, Elliott Crofton, and Sarah Weiner climbing into the rainforest at Cuc Phuong.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CmB6hXYt7n0/T27KZ_2VtJI/AAAAAAAAANw/1nhJ1ED5xeU/s1600/P1100786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CmB6hXYt7n0/T27KZ_2VtJI/AAAAAAAAANw/1nhJ1ED5xeU/s400/P1100786.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our guide Viet, Luke Williams, Andrew Sandborn, Anna Oakes, Elliott Crofton, Perrine Aronson and Sarah Weiner<br />
in the Cuc Phuong Archaeological Cave -- site of ritual burials and stone and bone tools dating back 7,500 years.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kFZIEoALaQs/T27Ii6BiEAI/AAAAAAAAANI/wfrKC2DSLoU/s1600/P1100740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kFZIEoALaQs/T27Ii6BiEAI/AAAAAAAAANI/wfrKC2DSLoU/s400/P1100740.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous "pitcher plant-like" flower in the understorey of the Cuc Phuong primary forest. Is it a calla lily? </td></tr>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ctnhRFiiww8/T27JFwiKqaI/AAAAAAAAANY/eexIJKly-Tg/s1600/P1100769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ctnhRFiiww8/T27JFwiKqaI/AAAAAAAAANY/eexIJKly-Tg/s400/P1100769.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two butterflies photographed in the meadow at the Cuc Phuong visitor's center.</td></tr>
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</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-33301295957803066742012-03-03T23:51:00.002-08:002012-03-03T23:56:51.153-08:00Great video made by Becky for our friends and family -- shown at the New Years Eve Folk Dance party in Albuquerque<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNf35VKKyoo" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNf35VKKyoo</a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNf35VKKyoo">
</a></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-81502923563269178302012-03-03T23:47:00.000-08:002012-03-03T23:47:09.105-08:00A couple pics from the Hanoi Hat Ultimate tournament last fall!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6ftDFlfmyBQ/T1Mdz40dEKI/AAAAAAAAAMU/cUs0OTtzJdA/s1600/chuck%2Bplaying%2Bultimate1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="221" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6ftDFlfmyBQ/T1Mdz40dEKI/AAAAAAAAAMU/cUs0OTtzJdA/s400/chuck%2Bplaying%2Bultimate1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N7aXfnG9M-U/T1Md0ZZFtsI/AAAAAAAAAMg/HjiQFnXZTjs/s1600/HUC%2Bnovember%2B2011%2Bmini%2Btournament%2Bgroup%2Bphoto%2Bhigh%2Bqual.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="181" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N7aXfnG9M-U/T1Md0ZZFtsI/AAAAAAAAAMg/HjiQFnXZTjs/s400/HUC%2Bnovember%2B2011%2Bmini%2Btournament%2Bgroup%2Bphoto%2Bhigh%2Bqual.jpg" /></a></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-27547621440895157522012-03-01T01:27:00.001-08:002012-03-01T01:27:49.034-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z0N9q49XsH8/T085_uuXGVI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Ku_aD7NnOT8/s1600/january%2B2012%2B-%2Bancient%2Bvillage%2Band%2Bthailand%2B004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z0N9q49XsH8/T085_uuXGVI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Ku_aD7NnOT8/s400/january%2B2012%2B-%2Bancient%2Bvillage%2Band%2Bthailand%2B004.JPG" /></a></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0Dung Luan21.110124881147883 105.30395507812520.991622881147883 105.146026578125 21.228626881147882 105.461883578125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-81954048952202865822012-03-01T00:49:00.002-08:002012-03-01T01:28:18.635-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Learning how to prepare "sticky rice" in steamed leaves on a trip to Dung LuanChuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-91265113804090230262012-03-01T00:43:00.002-08:002012-03-01T00:43:55.341-08:00In my life I have studied, traveled, participated in programs, and led trips to many different countries, but this year is different. I have passed the halfway point of my time here in Viet Nam and feel acclimated, comfortable, and competent. I know where to get the right color compact fluorescent light bulbs, where to get an electric guitar cord repaired, at which hours the gym is less crowded, which fruit ladies or vegetable ladies in the market will not rip me off, which ATMs don’t run out of cash when all the other ones have been empty for five days, and which bakeries have the best baguettes. I’ve learned how to bake dozens of different cakes (last night was mango, ginger, salted plum bread); and how to survive with a refrigerator the size of R2D2, a kitchen with two stoves and a tiny toaster oven. I know how much a taxi should be to anywhere in the city, how much to pay the driver who takes the “scenic route” that adds 8km to a 6km trip, and how much faster my trip will be if I ride my bicycle. The list of mundane things goes on and on. One of the reasons I haven’t written for this blog in so long is that life has become so normal.
So, what do I love about my life here. I love climbing the ten floors to my apartment – for the exercise (the elevators work fine, but I try to climb the stairs as much as I can). I love the fact that there is a “farmer’s market” every few blocks where I can buy fresh locally-grown produce, and meat so fresh that was walking around the previous day. I love the constant discovery of new dishes being sold by someone who has set up a small, propane fueled stove on the curb or up some narrow alley. I love riding my bike on the lakeside road or up boulevards with stunningly landscaped medians, or streets lined with giant trees.
I love how Vietnamese people will just come up to me on a bus or while eating street food and strike up a conversation to practice their English and find out what I am doing here. Their curiosity is especially aroused by my bicycle – few foreigners ride bikes – most get around by motorcycle.
I love my job. It is truly an ideal teaching situation. Fifteen students (now down to 7 in the second term after the semester students went home), two classes per day. I am spoiled by my light workload. It’s not too little, though. It allows me to really think about my teaching, plan ahead, and to address the needs of my students as individuals. I particularly enjoy teaching environmental science and economics together, to the same students. There are so many cross-disciplinary concepts – it is such a natural pairing. I find economics captivating. Now that I have begun to appreciate economic thought, I can see the paradox of how free markets are the underlying cause of our most critical problems, but that these same markets probably offer the only realistic solutions to the social and environmental quagmire in which we are trapped.
I have to add that I also love that a teacher’s salary goes so much further here. Back in the US, we always have to worry about how much we can afford for one thing or another. Here, our paychecks go so much farther – when we have the time, we ca hop on a plane and go to another country, we live easily and comfortably without a car. We can out and spend $2.50 for a full Vietnamese or spend $7 or $8 for an upscale western dinner.
We are returning in four months and I feel ambivalent. I would love to stay another year, but then it will be even less likely that we would want to go back. I can definitely envision a future as an expat. When and where are up in the air, but I think it likely that Becky and I will find another opportunity to live abroad, when the time is right. In the meantime, I will enjoy our four months that remain. But our friends, families, dogs, and home are calling us back.
There are also things I cannot stand and can’t wait to leave behind when we return. The pollution, the smoking, the fact that Vietnamese drivers have no concept of “right-of-way” and will run the red and drive straight at you when you are in a crosswalk with a green pedestrian light, or will turn left out of an alley without stopping and head toward you against the flow of traffic. But that’s about it. There are other things to complain about – how some vendors will try to charge me 2 or 3 times the price for goods that they will charge a local person (not many, but some), and how waiters will hand me a huge menu and then stand there right next to me, expecting my order immediately – such pressure! And then there is the fact that Vietnamese have no concept of standing in line or waiting their turn – getting on a bus, or getting food at a buffet is a free-for-all. But these are minor inconveniences that foreigners learn to deal with. In the end I find that I can adjust easily to life in another culture – even without having learned the language.
I wonder how much culture shock I will have to deal with when we return. I imagine it won’t be easy for any of us, especially for Sivan and Amali. A year to me or Becky doesn’t make much of a difference – our lives tend to be pretty static. But to an 11 or 14 year old? Their world is so mutable – will they return to familiar routines? We are starting to think about those transitions.
Have I changed this year? Honestly, yes. I need to reflect on those shifts in my physical, emotional, and social self. I think that will be the subject of my next entry. In the meantime, I will upload some pictures and videos over the next few weeks.
All my best,
ChuckChuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-1419000780272990822011-11-06T10:33:00.000-08:002011-11-06T10:33:33.572-08:00Salsa and Songs<br />When we first arrived here, Becky researched a dance studio only a few kilometers from our apartment. We visited it at that time, but no one was home. There was a phone number on a sign, which Becky entered into her phone. This was before we knew which digits are added to a Ha Noi cell phone to make it work. Becky tried the number, but it never went through, so we gave up, not knowing that we didn't have the right number.
A couple weeks ago, when we were pedaling past the street with the studio on a Sunday afternoon, I suggested we check it out again. There were two couples dancing, practicing in a big dance space, open-air, with a slick tile floor. I don’t recall the names of the two men, but the two women were both named Ha. (Funny -- Ha Ha!) One Ha speaks English well and goes by the name of Tracy.<br />They were some of the leaders of a salsa group that meets at the studio twice a week – once to work on couple moves, the other two work on “shines” – slick individual moves – and styling. We watched them a while – pure LA style salsa – lots of fancy turning, and dramatic hand gestures and constant hair tosses by the women. Not exactly our style, but they were good dancers.<br />Becky asked if they knew Rueda de Casino, a Cuban Salsa Mixer that Becky and I have been studying for a number of years. They showed us a choreography that they had memorized from youtube (in fact, most of their dance moves were learned from youtube). Becky explained that in a Rueda circle, people don’t memorize a choreography, but follow a caller who yells the moves a measure ahead. The sequence of short moves is improvised by the caller. We offered to show them and spent an hour teaching some basic Rueda figures. <br />They invited us to their Salsa class that night. The shorter man, who is an amazing self-taught dancer, taught a complicated dance sequence. Becky caught on quickly, while I struggled (mostly with the pace of the teaching – they didn’t really break things down as much as I need – they just demonstrated the move and expected my uncoordinated feet to know what to do). Fortunately, a very patient English speaking Vietnamese woman named Mai came to my rescue and patiently worked me through the sequence (which I have since mostly forgotten). When we said our good-byes, Tracy asked if we would be willing to teach Rueda to their class (about 50-60 Vietnamese people) the following Friday?<br />So Friday night (11/4), Becky and I headed down to the studio via Xe om – motorbike taxis. We were the first to arrive. Vietnamese people are much like New Mexicans – The “start” time for an event is really the time that the first people arrive, and the next half-hour to 45 minutes are still part of that start. Couples and singles trickled in. Some practiced, some just talked. After long warm-ups in which the male leader (I think his name is Minh, but I might just be making that up) had me trying to isolate my shoulder, torso, and pelvis in ways that just aren’t physically possible for me. Standing a head taller than everyone else doesn’t help either. Fortunately Vietnamese are not very self-conscious and similarly are not at all judgemental. So I threw my inhibitions away and tried every shoulder roll and pelvic thrust. Not a pretty picture – but I never claimed to be pretty.<br />Then Tracy introduced us to the group and translated Becky’s explanation of Rueda. The six of us who had practiced together the previous week demonstrated the moves to Becky’s calls of “da me” and “enshufla doble.” For the next hour or so, Becky, with the help of Tracy and me, taught eight or nine moves. The 50 Vietnamese people were quick learners and want us to return. Afterwards, we were invited to drink some lemon tea at a streetside stand by the studio with many of the dancers. From there, the group was heading to a Salsa club downtown. Becky and I wanted to go, but Sivan was home alone (Amali was in Laos captaining her team at a basketball tournament -- another story) and we hadn’t eaten dinner. After quick goodbyes, Becky and I set off to find a restaurant. <br />We walked to a strip of restaurants that we had passed on our way to the studio and were drawn to the one where we saw a group of four older men at a little plastic table, drinking beer and singing boldly, to the guitar that one was playing. We sat at a table next to them and listened as they sang a variety of Vietnamese songs – some patriotic marches (you could tell by the rousing choruses of "Viet Nam! Ho Chi Minh!" and some that sounded more like traditional folk songs. <br />We ordered beers and looked over the menu. All the dishes were goat. Headlining the menu was a choice between grilled and fried goat penis. I thought about ordering one, but they were pretty pricey, so we got grilled goat, and a dish of fried goat skin and whole garlic cloves that I did actually order. While we were literally chewing the fat (Vietnamese love to include as much fat and gristle in their chunks of meat as possible), the men at the table next to us continued their serenade. Suddenly I recognized the guitar riff as the opening bars of "Hotel California," which they encouraged us to sing. I knew the words, but it is not an easy song to sing, so while Becky rolled her eyes at my struggles to find the key and keep up with his fast tempo, I did my best. So to get back at her, I gestured for them to give Becky the guitar (again more eye-rolling), but Becky took it and played “Let It Be.” For the next hour, they sang for us and we for them. We toasted and shared beers. Their American song selection was mostly early 60s stuff that Becky and I recognized but couldn’t recall the lyrics. I noted that most of the English language songs that they knew were the same ones on the lists at the Karaoke bars. Then they sang the song Tumbalalaika in Vietnamese and then in English, to which I responded with a verse in Yiddish. These guys were young when the Soviet presence here was strong. <br />The restaurant staff were putting away the kindergarten sized plastic furniture all around us. The lights were dimmed and we had one more toast and shared our good-byes. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz8YEnBxY4O5FQcnAnkJbUxi2DA2UIwOJotx0N5aCW_FgqZmHXCJn72n5_TMyPm6H_Ei3I6ahot_s7DMDWTSA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-78589598057046589032011-10-19T09:08:00.001-07:002011-11-06T10:19:57.924-08:00Jaya Sahihi meeting her host family for the first time.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sanx8OZY1qg/TrYLg6qXP1I/AAAAAAAAALA/psAjY0ekG2E/s1600/P1060998.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sanx8OZY1qg/TrYLg6qXP1I/AAAAAAAAALA/psAjY0ekG2E/s320/P1060998.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671733440850378578" /></a><br /><div><br />Where have I been these last six weeks? Good question. School mostly – planning two new courses that I knew would be challenging, helping our four seniors wind their way down the tortuous path to college admissions, and administering SAT, PSAT, and ACT tests – three Saturdays in October just devoted to testing (and another in November). A couple short trips with my students, lots of grocery shopping and some creative cooking with very limited ingredients (one of the blog posts, I will summarize my “Expat cookbook”), bike riding on errands to track down lab supplies, playing ultimate frisbee a couple times a week, except for when it has been raining – which has been pretty often, and contending with the even more powerful forces of nature in the form of a hormonally unpredictable 14 year old.</div><div><br />School:<br /></div><div>School Year Abroad attracts some pretty remarkable students, especially the students who choose to go to a developing country over more established and predictable locations like France or Italy. Most of these students are mature, daring, perceptive and seem motivated to make the most of their time here. I am teaching AP Economics (Micro semester 1 and Macro semester 2). The problem is that I need to learn much of the material I am teaching, so I try to stay a couple chapters ahead of my students. Studying economics has been fascinating. I enjoy the elegant simplicity of economic models. But the idea that there exists average, predictable, and quantifiable human behavior seems dubious because I doubt that there actually are “free” markets – free from corruption, undue influence by powerful individuals, businesses, or governments, etc.<br /></div><div>I am also teaching AP Environmental Science. This course material is much more familiar to me, but I have to provide a lab curriculum in a facility with two classrooms, 3 small tables, no sinks and few supplies. But I manage. In our first couple weeks, we observed exponential population growth of bread mold. Now we are growing radishes, basil and watercress in plastic cups to test effects of ecological competition. There is a pond on campus which we will study to examine community diversity (I brought four small field microscopes on loan from Sandia Prep), and we will survey fish in the pond using bread, and invertebrates using aquarium nets attached to long bamboo poles.<br /></div><div>What my students find intriguing about learning Environmental Science and Economics simultaneously is how much the two disciplines overlap, and even more, how they frequently bring students to different conclusions regarding growth vs. sustainability. Environmentalists often disregard the power of markets and the ultimate power of the consumer, while Economists like to ignore those costs that can’t be easily quantified or paid for – such as the actual value of clean air or healthy populations of owls. The debate is between the "Tragedy of the Commons" and "The Invisible Hand." My students present current events each week focused on Economic or Environmental issues in Southeast Asia in which they must connect the article to principles we are studying in each class. I find it the most fascinating aspect of my classes.</div><div><br />Becky and I share College Counseling responsibilities. She will help the seniors edit their essays and the juniors summarize their goals, experiences and interests in anticipation of their future essay writing needs. Two of our seniors will leave in December, and the other two are here for a full year. We will have to help the first two complete their applications, and we will be with the other two through the entire process. It is a challenge to usher students whom we have only known a couple months through this crucial process. It is sufficient to say that these responsibilities keep me pretty busy.<br /></div><div>I did spend the first three weeks of school trying hard to keep up with the Vietnamese classes offered to the students, but I had to drop out– I just couldn’t give up 90 minutes each day. Becky has persisted, fortunately, since at least one of us will really learn the language. My command of the language is pathetic. Even when I use the words and phrases that I have learned, the Vietnamese people I speak to look at me as if I was speaking to them in some other language. So my primary means of communication is a rudimentary sign language accompanied by grunts and loud slow words in English (as if somehow speaking slowly and loudly would help a person who knows no English understand me). </div><div> </div><div>Our students arrived on Friday, September 2nd. We spent the first weekend at a hotel in the old district of Ha Noi – Hoan Kiem. Our meals were large and festive, and the students tried hard to keep from falling asleep in their chairs. We had them explore the tourist markets, figuring out how easy it is to get ripped off (a couple students accidentally bought a $15 pineapple). Saturday morning, we woke the students at 5:30am and at 6 had them out and walking around the famous Hoan Kiem lake. It was amazing to see thousands of people out at 6am exercising. There was a weight lifting group that transported all their equipment to the park via motorbikes, several Zumba groups, Some old ladies doing tai chi with swords, several hundred people who would do a bunch of movements and then they would all crouch down with hands on their knees, walking around laughing. Then they would move some more, and then laugh some more. There was a salsa class and a waltz club. There were badminton games (one pair of elderly – 70 something – women were playing badminton, each with two rackets – alternatively hitting the birdie with left and right hands!). There were roller-bladers, runners, and dozens of men and women exercising on their own. Some would twist at the waist over and over again, one man was bent over and kept swing his arms back one at a time, slapping himself on the back. Many men and women simply stood swinging their arms rapidly back and forth. Nearly everyone was active, and no one was self-conscious about what they were doing or how they looked -- very different from the gym experience back home. I have learned that Ho Chi Minh made daily exercise compulsory and the behavior has persisted. Maybe we should do the same in the US.<br /></div><div>On Sunday, after brunch at a tasty French restaurant, our bus brought our students to the University of Languages and International Studies where our school is housed. We made our way up to a nicely decorated reception hall (pictures to follow) where our students’ host families arrived one at a time to meet their new sons and daughters. Some who came were parents only, others were just siblings of similar age to our students, while others seemed to come with uncles, cousins and grandparents. Our students were so nervous – it reminded me of the Sorting Hat in Harry Potter. As a family arrived, the students had no idea who was going to be called. The students and their new families sat at decorated tables eating petit fours and trying to make themselves understood. After Vuong, our director, made a short speech, the students and families went off together.</div><div><br />In the next blog post, I will describe our trips to Ba Trang (chahng) and Halong Bay, and a bit on Becky’s trip to Sa Pa and Lau Cai, Amali’s journey to Mai Chau, and Sivan’s to Da Nang and Hoi An.<br /></div><div>This is Thâỳ Trúc (pronounced tie choock, which means Teacher Bamboo – my Vietnamese name) signing off.</div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-31820068609601095262011-09-11T00:42:00.000-07:002011-10-19T09:06:29.744-07:00Hanoi Hash -- Running and Beer through rice paddies<span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><div><br /><br /></div></span><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoPlainText"><span>It has been a while since I have had time to add to this blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have pictures, stories, and some brief video to share. I will try get to much of it this week and get you all caught up.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoPlainText"><span><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /></span><span>The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, preparation, and work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks ago, on Saturday, we all participated in a Hanoi Hash outing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Hash is a running/hiking club that started in Kuala Lumpur in 1938, spread throughout SE Asia in the 1960s and 70s and then exploded in the 90s and has almost 2000 chapters, and is on every continent (even Antarctica).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leadership is voluntary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They organize runs every Saturday (and some getaway weekends as well).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hire a bus and a beer/soda truck and head out to the countryside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some members have scouted out a route, and after an intial beer/soda stop, with brief introductions of new people, the runners and walkers head off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leaders call “On, on!” periodically to keep everyone on pace.</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoPlainText"><span>We met downtown outside The American Club met a few of the veteran Hashers – the first one I met, a tall Kiwi man, introduced himself as “Chicken Legs" and a British woman told me her name was “Shakesbeer.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met others with similarly colorful Hash names such as “Nice Bitch,” “Spandex Man,” and a diminutive Vietnamese woman with the moniker “Moneypenis” given to her because of her passion for James Bond (somehow derived from Money Penny). Real names were shared as well, but the stories behind the Hash names were much more intriguing.</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /><br /></span><span>The bus took us out of town, picking up Hashers at various locations en route, and an hour<br />later, we arrived at a dam in the countryside west of Hanoi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 10k route took us through rice paddies, floating lotus gardens, with ducks in pens, and wallowing water buffalo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was muddy and beautiful, hauntingly similar to scenes from so many war films. We would exit the paddies into small remote villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children would call Hello and then run shyly back into their houses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About half-way through, after we were good and sweaty, like an oasis in the desert, there was<br />the beer truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tropical heat, an empty stomach, semi-rigourous exercize, and beer are an interesting combination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I definitely slowed down for the remainder of the hike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got back to the starting point, there was the truck again. This time, I had water.<o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><div><br /></div></span><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoPlainText"><span>It was nearing sunset and we wondered when everyone would head back to to bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wouldn’t be for another hour and a half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was time for the weekly Hash ritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A German man, whose name I cannot recall, was the apparent leader of the group that evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using some white powder (lime?) he made a circle and everyone stood outside it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He called all new people into the circle, had us introduce ourselves, gave us a cup of beer (soda for the kids) and after the group sang us a song (led by Shakesbeer and Nice Bitch), we had to drink and then were brusquely told to get out of the circle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then they called in birthdays, people who hadn’t shown up for a while, people who were going away for while, people who started as runners, but finished as hikers, men with really nice bodies who had to take off their shirts before they could drink their beers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With each category, there was a song, and a drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was more, and it felt a bit cultish or secret societyish (although there seemed to be no secrets).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was funny for the first half-hour, but got a bit tiresome and Sivan and Amali were really tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t start the ritual until sunset, so, after leaving Hanoi at 2 pm, we didn’t get back until after 8 (The bus stopped for more beer on the way – and then, after all that beer, had to stop for a pee break as well).<o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><div><br /></div></span><div><span>Becky and I will go back to the Hash, but I don’t know about the kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had fun, but felt witness to an adult group that they didn’t feel entirely comfortable with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, I think it was great for them to see adults “playing.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My problem is that it conflicts with Ultimate Frisbee – I’ll just have to choose sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /><br /></span><span>I will post some Hash pictures, but I left that camera at my office.</span></div><div><span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /> </span></span></div><span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-67745145316401549322011-09-11T00:35:00.001-07:002011-10-19T09:08:06.041-07:00Eating on the street<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J5xZNmqH2PI/TmxlXYPOGJI/AAAAAAAAAK4/AjhOqU8Kpdw/s1600/P1060783.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651003084760815762" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J5xZNmqH2PI/TmxlXYPOGJI/AAAAAAAAAK4/AjhOqU8Kpdw/s320/P1060783.JPG" /></a>Restaurants set up every evening (after the morning and lunch ones pack up).<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ubYutcpJShE/TmxlXNAUBAI/AAAAAAAAAKw/z-vsZaPOvt4/s1600/P1060779.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651003081745499138" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ubYutcpJShE/TmxlXNAUBAI/AAAAAAAAAKw/z-vsZaPOvt4/s320/P1060779.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eGmfvnp_TXg/TmxlXA2vWYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/fqQlr7a0CuQ/s1600/P1060782.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 240px; height: 320px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651003078484121986" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eGmfvnp_TXg/TmxlXA2vWYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/fqQlr7a0CuQ/s320/P1060782.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Cook it yourself restaurants are among my favorites, but Becky doesn't like to sit that long, especially if it is on the little kindergarten stools.</div><div> </div><div>Crispy Chicken Skin, Sliced Beef, different veggies -- cook them on the skillet, then fill your bowl, dip in soy or fish sauce, or shove into baguettes and "an" (eat)</div></div></div></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-76992321802859058592011-09-11T00:31:00.000-07:002011-09-11T00:35:07.994-07:00Karaoke night<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tfGRrvFgmtY/TmxkVtGWioI/AAAAAAAAAKg/BKSSAOqSWJs/s1600/P1060732.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651001956489398914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tfGRrvFgmtY/TmxkVtGWioI/AAAAAAAAAKg/BKSSAOqSWJs/s200/P1060732.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ny3alJ0V0M/TmxkVbGMgXI/AAAAAAAAAKY/PJASs38M028/s1600/P1060728.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651001951656903026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ny3alJ0V0M/TmxkVbGMgXI/AAAAAAAAAKY/PJASs38M028/s200/P1060728.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZtNJNOeciQ/TmxkVLXxDRI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/qZwwr6B9fnM/s1600/P1060719.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651001947435633938" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZtNJNOeciQ/TmxkVLXxDRI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/qZwwr6B9fnM/s200/P1060719.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Cheesy and in the wrong key for the girls. Just us, a karaoke machine and some snacks for about $6 per hour.</div><div> </div></div></div></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-36486413749484768432011-09-11T00:23:00.000-07:002011-09-11T00:31:03.511-07:00More pics from Amali and Chuck's ride<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NV1rVXxkurQ/Tmxi96neLzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/0coVsZN016U/s1600/P1060748.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651000448289484594" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NV1rVXxkurQ/Tmxi96neLzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/0coVsZN016U/s320/P1060748.JPG" /></a>Little kids working on a cha cha number at Bach Thao Park<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LsAuV_icyxU/Tmxi9ggdFiI/AAAAAAAAAKA/gGdZyy59fRI/s1600/P1060774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651000441280730658" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LsAuV_icyxU/Tmxi9ggdFiI/AAAAAAAAAKA/gGdZyy59fRI/s320/P1060774.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yKcuAdfVl10/Tmxi9QYzdVI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/hbsc9WtpBZ8/s1600/P1060775.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651000436953675090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yKcuAdfVl10/Tmxi9QYzdVI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/hbsc9WtpBZ8/s320/P1060775.JPG" /></a>Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWMf7RHMwuU/Tmxi9Tih-5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/oWSGhw42Nng/s1600/P1060769.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651000437799779218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWMf7RHMwuU/Tmxi9Tih-5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/oWSGhw42Nng/s320/P1060769.JPG" /></a>Ngac San Pagoda, Hoan Kiem Lake, Old Hanoi<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4WVVYUEfK4/Tmxi9NTUIPI/AAAAAAAAAJo/N5QTD1rYu_4/s1600/P1060762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651000436125343986" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4WVVYUEfK4/Tmxi9NTUIPI/AAAAAAAAAJo/N5QTD1rYu_4/s320/P1060762.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-47613612144719068432011-09-11T00:14:00.001-07:002011-09-11T00:22:35.173-07:00Amali and Chuck's Big Bike Ride -- mid-August<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P1xBLfSMHG8/TmxgqYGUkXI/AAAAAAAAAJg/CIq6UkCAMUY/s1600/P1060750.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650997913582866802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P1xBLfSMHG8/TmxgqYGUkXI/AAAAAAAAAJg/CIq6UkCAMUY/s200/P1060750.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4_fEdZS5sE/TmxgqJzmFtI/AAAAAAAAAJY/4khXoSE0jk4/s1600/P1060739.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650997909746226898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4_fEdZS5sE/TmxgqJzmFtI/AAAAAAAAAJY/4khXoSE0jk4/s200/P1060739.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-571qzfU3OnQ/Tmxgp2svpMI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/OyN5wkROuOI/s1600/P1060737.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650997904617219266" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-571qzfU3OnQ/Tmxgp2svpMI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/OyN5wkROuOI/s200/P1060737.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCg9P-CgrBE/Tmxgp8oFBkI/AAAAAAAAAJI/E5Vvgy3RP9s/s1600/P1060735.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 150px; height: 200px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650997906208261698" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCg9P-CgrBE/Tmxgp8oFBkI/AAAAAAAAAJI/E5Vvgy3RP9s/s200/P1060735.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2xsAiuq5waI/TmxgpvfRpoI/AAAAAAAAAJA/TlQMnaUcQbQ/s1600/P1060733.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; height: 150px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650997902681679490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2xsAiuq5waI/TmxgpvfRpoI/AAAAAAAAAJA/TlQMnaUcQbQ/s200/P1060733.JPG" /></a>Dragon sculpture and topiary at Bach Thao park<br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-85741327950581166592011-08-21T00:17:00.000-07:002011-08-21T00:21:03.737-07:00A brief bit of a traditional theatrical performance at the Buddhist Temple right behind our building.<div></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxsorwlRy8nrztfgGtqn1GVT2xadTQCPgWwInX9XmYmNcRORwGFkhf8N9UY1L26R46kiQ1omIDvAtJQlltflA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-19764315141269694972011-08-20T23:39:00.000-07:002011-08-21T00:15:28.412-07:00The start of school<div>Becky arrived four days ago, and immediately got caught up in the whirlwind. She starts work on Monday, teaching at the nearby campus of Singapore International School. SIS follows a strict curriculum called the Cambridge Program. It should be pretty straightforward from a planning point of view, but we'll reserve judgement until she has started. Most of the students are Koreans and wealthy Vietnamese. Becky is teaching several levels of English language arts (not literature, just reading, writing, and speaking). The pay is great, but she has a pretty full 8-3 schedule, and cannot leave until 5 pm. Not ideal, but we'll see how do-able it is once she gets started. </div><div> </div><div>Sivan and Amali have completed their first week of school at Hanoi International School. This is the #2 school in town -- The UN International School is the best, but it has a long waiting list of applicants, so there was no way. Anyway, I am glad they are at HIS. It is more casual, with a strong emphasis on teacher-student relationships and creating a cooperative learning environment (much like Sandia Prep). I was there on Thursday and bumped into the school counselor (Pastoral Advisor is her official title). She commented that the girl's transition was remarkably smooth -- she sees a lot of kids who are resistant and angry about their dislocation and have trouble adapting to their new milieu. Talking about milieus, both girls are taking French, but Sivan has to take French 3!!! It will be tough catching up, but she has a HS senior tutuoring her and I am confident that she will do fine. Amali is taking both French and Vietnamese. It is a small school, so there really isn't any flexibility in the offerings. The girls have made good friends already, with students from Denmark, Finland, Thailand, and Korea to name a few of their home countries. They each have cell phones and have been texting their friends frequently and have facebook friended them as well. In time they will get together socially, I'm sure. The girls have signed up for a southeast Asian international school sports league! Sivan will play volleyball and Amali basketball, and they get to travel to Vientiane (Laos) and maybe Bangkok...</div><div> </div><div>They've been commuting to and from school on the back of a xe om (pronounced seh ohm) -- a motorcycle taxi, but we discovered that we were being ripped off. They took a regular taxi on Friday, which cost 40,000 vietnamese Dong (about $2) with the meter on. The xe om driver was charging us 60,000 -- and xe oms are supposed to be cheaper. I renegotiated the price and we will pay him 40,000 -- still good for him and the girls prefer the motorbike to a taxi anyway. They'll take taxis if it is very rainy, but usually they'll take the xe om. I don't think I feel great about them commuting by bicycle yet, but maybe down the road. Some time soon, I will mount a camera on the front of my bike so you can get a sense of what it is like to cycle here -- crazy!</div><div>My first work meeting is on Tuesday, but I've been working all this time getting my courses together. I am intimidated by the prospect of teaching AP courses for the first time, and to teach AP Economics, without ever having taught the subject before is even more daunting, but I have been preparing and with a lot of prep work I'll do fine.</div><div> </div><div>My ability to communicate with Vietnamese people is improving, although I still cannot pronounce anything well enough for any of them to understand what I am saying, even after lessons on how to pronounce their very foreign vowel sounds (recall my constipation reference several posts ago). I have trouble with basics such as numbers-- ba (3), bon (4--and then 'n' is barely pronounced, and bai (7) confuse me. I might accidentally offer to pay 70,000 dong for something that the shopowner just offered for 30,000. We westerners get ripped off routinely (a great example of Price Discrimination for my Econ course), paying 2-3x what vietnamese people would have to pay. We are getting more savvy as time goes on, and maybe by the end will only be paying 50% more than we should...?</div><div> </div><div>Anyway, that's it for now. More later.</div><div> </div><div>We're off to the local boba tea -- "feeling tea" around the corner -- one large tea costs just 20,000 dong (a dollar)! Then tonight, Becky and I are going to the Cinemateque to watch the Redux version of Apocalypse Now -- a free airing sponsored by the Italian Embassy. We would have taken the girls, but the newer version has a bit too much sexual content (according to IMDB). So they get to go out for pho and watch Disney Channel.</div><div> </div><div>Xin Chao,</div><div>Chuck</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4346662143274567450.post-60539019480579293832011-08-12T20:14:00.000-07:002011-08-12T20:20:06.508-07:00<div><font face="Times New Roman"><br /><br /></font><span><span>I was warned about shrimp paste. Vietnamese use it in their cooking, sometimes<br /> serve grilled cakes of it, but most often use it as a dipping sauce. We don't<br /> see it in our American Vietnamese restaurants, and two days ago I found out<br /> why. In my many culinary escapades I have tasted things I didn't like or<br /> wouldn't order again, but only once did I taste a food so utterly disagreeable<br /> that I had to spit it out. In Taiwan there is a popular dish called Stinking<br /> Tofu. It is cooked in big vats, often outside the restaurant to attract<br /> customers. The traditional preparation was to cure the Tofu in fermented milk<br />(yuck) -- now they use artificial substances that mimic that flavor. I tried it<br />(twice to see if I might acquire a tolerance for it -- I didn't) and it tasted<br />the way a feedlot smells. Not my favorite. Give me Uni (sea urchin sashimi) with<br />it's post-nasal drip texture any day over stinking tofu. Mind you, I was willing<br />to try it twice.<br /><br />Three days ago, on our way to buy our bicycles, we went to a mid-scale vietnamese<br /> restaurant near our apartment. No translated menus, so we just ordered soups,<br /> thinking that they would come in meal sized bowls like pho'. They came in tiny<br /> bowls, so we looked around at other tables to see if there was an appealing<br /> dish to order. Some young guys were eating fried Tofu, which seemed safe. We<br /> pointed and our order arrived 5 minutes later, with a purplish, grayish dipping<br /> sauce. Not knowing that this was the infamous shrimp sauce, I dipped and popped<br /> a piece into my mouth. The piece came out less than a second later -- the old<br /> men at the table next to us smiled knowingly. The taste was offal. Not awful,<br /> offal. Best association is with the smell of a sewage treatment plant. I<br /> grabbed for my beer -- empty. I took a swig of Sivan's coke. I felt waves of<br /> nausea. I couldn't even sit near the bowl sitting on the table. I couldn't get<br /> the flavor out of my mouth. We paid our bill quickly and headed down the block<br /> to the french bakery. Even after the pastry, I couldn't completely extinguish<br /> the stench.<br /><br />I have subsequently learned how they make shrimp paste. They toss raw shrimp and<br /> fish in salt, and then let it undergo liquefaction and fermentation under the<br /> warm tropical sun. In other words, it is rotten seafood. Lan, our Vietnamese<br /> teacher, told me that many Vietnamese can't stand it either, but it is popular<br /> in the middle of the country. Will I try it again? I doubt it, unless there was<br /> a lot of money behind the dare.<br /><br />Then yesterday, we visited a nearby lunch restaurant that we have been meaning try.<br /> We scope these out when we walk by people and see what they are eating, or, in<br /> this case, the restaurant had a bunch of dishes that you could point to. Like<br /> many street restaurants, the kitchen was the front part of someones home. No<br /> door, just an open kitchen, a few tables inside and few outside. The woman<br /> cooking scooped a big mound of steamed rice on each plate and then allowed us<br /> to each point to as many different foods as we wanted, which were arrayed over<br /> the rice. There were fried chicken drumsticks, steamed cabbage, curried coconut<br /> and pork, some seasoned ground meat???, several dishes with fried chicken skin,<br /> gizzards, or liver with various spices or sauces. Steamed collard greens, and<br /> other appealing fare. There was one plate that caught my eye. Oblong, inch long<br /> yellowish things, no sauce, which upon closer scrutiny, were obviously pupae of<br /> some sort of moth or butterfly. Roasted, I think. To keep a short story from<br /> getting too long, they were roasted silkworm pupae. I popped one in my mouth<br /> and bit down. Crunchy on the outside, sweet and salty on the inside -- good<br /> initial experience, but then, after chewing it up a bit more, some internal<br /> tissues clearly did not taste as good as the ones that I first bit through. It<br /> wasn't terrible, but also not so great. I will try them again to see if I can<br /> acquire a taste. Sivan, with great courage, sampled a silkworm pupa as well.<br /> She will not be trying it second time.<br /><br />So we've gone from horrible, to weird, but there was also the best meal we have<br />experienced, four nights ago. We saw people sitting at the tiny preschool<br />plastic tables and chairs that comprise the street vendors' restaurants, with a<br />round, sterno fueled grill in the center of each one. (Some of the tables were<br />partially melted). It was a do-it-yourself meal. They brought us a large platter<br />of raw meats and veggies (one meat was pork skin, a fact I kept from the girls<br />until they asked why it was so chewy). They gave each of us two sets of<br />chopsticks -- one for cooking and one for eating. And a thing of butter and<br />another of oil. Suffice it to say, the food was fantastic. Can't wait to take<br />Becky there.<br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>Pictures to follow.</span></span><font face="Times New Roman"><br /><br /></font></div>Chuck Buxbaumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962098635858991451noreply@blogger.com0