The Opposite of Attrition?

Detrition? Extrition? Antitrition? Help me here, people.

In any case, the pattern of enrollment in classes here runs counter to my vast and varied experience in the teaching world. I started off class with 12 students, and now I have 15. I’ve never seen it go in that direction.

My students are delightful. Today the class got out of control with mirth and I attempted, once time was running short, to rein in the glee by saying, So, what do you do when your students get out of control because they’re having too much fun? Everyone quieted down for a moment, gave it some thought, and then went hysterical again. I threatened that I would make them Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes, and that gave them pause, but only a tiny one.

This trip has been difficult because I’m working all the time and I haven’t gotten to explore. An hour’s drive away are the Cu Chi Tunnels, which I really want to see. And there’s the War Remnants Museum, a brutally sad but important experience. And much more. I won’t have time.

However, today my weekend begins, and I visited the big mercado near here. I think that’s what the Vietnamese call it, anyway. Because of the country’s history, everyone calls you Madame as you squeeze your bulk down narrow aisles between stalls and trying to wriggle free of the tight grip of vendors shouting to you: Madame! They hold up a sinewy dress sheer dress with a swath of glitter and declare, We have your size!

Advice: Stay away from the clothing people and go look at the stuff foreigners don’t buy. Mackerel gasping in shallow buckets the length of one mackerel, dried meats with flies, live crustaceans waving their doomed claws, mysterious foods fresh-cooked on a stand atop the concrete floor, and all kinds of more prosaic stuff. These places are so huge that it’s impossible for a neophyte to find her way back to a vendor she had planned to revisit. Smell was more useful than sight. I don’t know where I am, but I’m back at the place where there’s a propane leak, or Oh, I’ve been to this dead-fish-plus-excrement-smelling area before! I can’t say I found it pleasant per se, but it is one of the joys of visiting another country: to experience stuff that startles me and that is everyday fare to others.

As I left the market, I came upon a vendor selling something I thought was cool: a string of nesting Vietnamese hats. I hate bargaining, but I’ll do it some. Here, though, I’d be bargaining over pennies that I don’t need, so I didn’t argue much. When the young woman picked up my new acquisition, I saw that both of her hands were partially gone from what looked like leprosy. She handed the object to an older woman whose face was covered with boils. The latter wrapped the package and returned it to the young woman, who handed it warmly back to me. As I walked home I started to worry. On the elevator to my room, I hung a cute little string of nesting hats and ran to wash my hands. They were gone minutes later to a fate unknown to me.

I’d heard that people in Vietnam are wonderful and warm, and that has proven true. They’ve got an agile sense of humor, too, so that’s fun.

One good thing I did: When the cab dropped me off at work this morning, it put me on the wrong side of the street. They’ve never done that before, because the traffic (autos, mopeds, bicycles, the occasional mystery vehicle that is used to convey massive loads) does not respect the pedestrian. I disembarked across from my office, took a deep breath, and charged into the turbulent and fast-moving (40 mph) current. Cleared two feet, paused, got three feet further, dodged a motorcycle, advanced another square, etc. Reached the curb and looked up. At the window of my office were a couple broadly smiling guys giving me a thumbs-up. I walked in and all seven people stood up and started cheering. Then I ate pork rice. Then I found out the power was out so I got on the back of someone’s motorbike to another campus of the university, and saw the city from a perspective I’d sooner have avoided. But it was fun.

One bad thing I did: On my first day of work I went to lunch with a few people. I usually let them order for me, saying only that I don’t want guts or blood or eyeballs or anything slimy, and not beef if possible but whatever. (Although on my first night here, I did turn down Sour Mudfish, so I’m not as brave as I claim.) After ordering, all these plates were put in front of us. Each of us was poured a cup of tea. I was dying of thirst. I let the tea sit there a while, waiting for the others, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. I took a big swig. It was fish sauce. We tried to stop you, my colleagues said. Thanks a lot, I replied, body shuddering in shock.

I met the nicest Irish man on the rooftop bar a few days ago, and ran into him the next night and we had dinner. But then I didn’t go back to the roof on subsequent nights because I had too much work. But he was a real inspiration. When I was fretting about my teaching, he gave me the best and most insightful pep talk I could have asked for.

I have to go to a conference in Hanoi next week and have been trying to find a good hotel. These are among those that I decided to give a miss:

• Bro & Sis Hotel Hang Bun
• Hanoi Charming 2
• Hanoi Impressive Hotel
• The Time Hotel
• Hanoi Mike’s

There are, of course, plentiful other unfortunate names of things here and there, such as a storefront with a giant sign, The Juicy Box.

One of the things I love best about this season in Vietnam are the daily — yes, daily, guaranteed — giant thunderstorms. It makes a wormlips glad.

What doesn’t making a wormlips glad is missing things. Most of all I miss my nieta, who has sprouted two teeth during my absence. Speaking of Spanish, I taught part of one lesson in Spanish today, and was quite impressed with myself. Fortunately, no one could tell that it was Very Bad Spanish.

I know how to say thank you in Vietnamese. Cí¡m Æ¡n . So why do cab drivers look at me like I just hocked a loogie? And I know I’m saying it rightish.

Well, I’ve gotta go. I’m still doing the hotel shuffle: a few nights here, a few nights there. I don’t like it but it is what it is. I have to pack up everything tonight and wake up at 5:00 and check out and store my bags somewhere and then I get picked up to go on an overnight trip through the Mekong Delta where I may have to stay in the hotel whose third floor is a brothel.

I don’t have time to proof this. Sorry. If one of my children finds problems, maybe they should fix them themselves.