Living in Việt Nam, Pt. 3 - A Day at the Office
Pre-Service Training Week 5, November 2024
Three or four days a week, the trainees of VN03 - the third cohort of Peace Corps volunteers in Việt Nam - go into the office for training. At my house, the trainees come down for breakfast at such distinct intervals, that some days we don't see each other at all. I'm usually second, not because I'm a morning person, but because I can't function or speak civilly to anyone until the first cup of coffee.
But this morning, we are all up and eager to get to the office.
"I was gonna book a Grab if anyone wants to join me?" Sunita says.
Andrés and I exchange nervous glances. We are worriers, and the unsurety of booking a Grab has spiked our anxiety. We were already late for class once, as our Grab driver took 20 minutes to get through traffic to us. Once booked, a Grab is only cancellable by your driver.
But after 5 minutes pass with no booking - our training house is on a narrow peninsula on the West Lake, and the one-way streets can waste a lot of a taxi drivers' time - Sunita reluctantly joins us on our 25-minute walk to the "office".
Down these same narrow streets and alleyways, we trek confidently as bicycles and motorbikes and large trucks alike barrel past us, often with a blast of their horn. We pass by a vista of the buildings of downtown on the other side of the West Lake; we have already learned to estimate the AQI (Air Quality Index) based on how visible these skyscrapers are through the smog. This morning, the view is mercifully clear.
On the main road of Xuân Diệu, we pass by women selling sticky rice out of baskets layered with banana leaves. Across the street from an English pub. A cart selling doner kebabs is nearby a small family-run bún chả stall: plumes of smoke billow up and over pedestrians as the flames lick at pork sausage patties on a grill just outside their restaurant. On a road of this side, there is a sidewalk, but there is often little room of it left for walking. One must weave around the many motorbikes that use it for parking spaces.
We make good time, and ahead of the last intersection we must cross, my companions step into a Circle K to grab a quick breakfast. I wait outside for them - my books in a knapsack on my back - and attract the attention of an old guard sitting nearby.
The man in his mid-'50s and a police-like uniform walks up to me with a smile and offers his hand. I shake it firmly and sheepishly say "Xin chào" and he steps in close and enunciates clearly to me: "Đi đâu?"
Even now, months later, I rarely understand what someone is trying to say to me in Vietnamese so quickly, but the two simple words click immediately: "Go where?" I fumble for the Vietnamese word for office but quickly respond with the words I do know for the Peace Corps (Chương trình hòa bình) and point across the street in its general direction. The beautiful, whitewashed former Brazilian embassy would be within sight... if it wasn't tucked back demurely behind two buildings whose façades sprout straight up from the start of their property lines.
He shakes his head satisfied. I doubt he has heard of the "Peace Program", as it is called in Vietnamese, or if he understood what I said at all: I generally don't get any of my tones correct before my second cup of coffee. But perhaps it was enough that I understood his question.
Given the history between our countries, a good part of the Peace Corps mission here is about building trust. Right now, that means our trustworthiness is still under scrutiny. We've all agreed to serve knowing that we might be surveilled, but we don't have any idea how much. Some trainees have felt suspicions of being followed. I personally don't think they were followed by someone who knew who they were, because the local police or neighborhood watch of any country would be able to tell that we are not your typical tourists. We are dressed for work, super confident, and know where we're headed. We mark ourselves as foreigners who will be here long-term, and that would pique anyone's interest.
In classes at our office Headquarters, we largely follow a plan dictated by the Peace Corps for any country: a series of lectures and discussion groups in subjects like safety & security, Peace Corps policy, and our work "sector" (teaching English in our case). The staff is largely Vietnamese; extremely talented
Today, we have gathered in the peaceful garden behind the building for a health lecture from our medical team. The sweltering heat of Hà Nội in October has given way to the perfect temperature, just cool enough that the morning sun filtering in over the garden is warming and welcome. We all sigh with relaxation; this is so much nicer than class all day under fluorescent lights.
"Can we have class out here everyday?" Will asks. Will loves the outdoors as much as anyone and has taken his sandals off to run his toes through the soft, fake turf. "Some of us have a high propensity for sunlight."
The lecture topic for today is Mosquito-Borne Illnesses. Malaria is not endemic to the parts of Việt Nam we will be serving in, but dengue fever is still common. We are soon unnerved. When one of our teammates slaps at a mosquito biting his leg, he gets up hastily and grabs the Deet mosquito repellent from the lecture display version of our medical kits, asking: "Why are we having this lecture outside, again?"
Yesterday we were also at the office, and the atmosphere was funereal. It had been Election Night in America before lunch. After lunch, we got the overnight returns which sealed the fate we had hoped wasn't possible. No one could focus on TEFL skills that day. We were stunned at the prospect of having to see that guy by the front door every day, representing our country with values so opposed to our own. We thought about the possibility that he will try to defund the Peace Corps (again), although it probably won't affect our two years; the Peace Corps has weathered political storms in the past.
But today we have forgotten about that. Today, we are buzzing. At the end of the day, we will be given our site assignments. We will finally know where we will live for the next two years.
We are broken up into two groups: 8 volunteers have been assigned to schools in the vast district of Hà Nội, while 12 volunteers will be assigned to Hồ Chí Minh City. These two districts encompass much more than the cities at their heart but also thousands of square kilometers of suburban and rural land.
When our sites are revealed, there are mixed reactions. Sunita had all but figured out where her site was already and was already trying to figure out whether it was a blessing or a curse for being very far from the city. Andres will be the closest to the city - which would seem perfect for him - but he is concerned about high expectations; his school already has high scores in English.
Will wanders back in from finding out where he will be in HCMC and he is on cloud nine. "My site is on an island, and there's a beach, and there are monkeys. I am so happy."
I just feel... empty. My site is much farther away from the capital than we were told would be the norm this year. And I can't tell anything about it from Google Maps. It's a rural town. There are not a lot of restaurants, and no grocery stores like Winmart - a local chain whose stores are usually as small as Circle K but somehow packed daily with fresh produce and meat. I will have only a small wet market.
I also soon realize that the public transportation in Hà Nội is city-centric; there are no easy bus routes to big cities which are much closer but in neighboring provinces. There will be no easy weekend travelling to nearby tourist spots.
I'm not saying that I was sad or upset upon hearing my site for the first time, I just didn't know enough about it to know what the upsides would be. Other people had their beaches to give them something to be excited about. My site was a question mark.
I realized how much Hà Nội had colored my experience of Việt Nam so far, and that I would soon be in the Peace Corps in a very real way. And I knew I shouldn't be concerned about how far I was from the capital, because my focus should be on learning to live in this community.
And next week, we would all be visiting these places for the first time...
The next post will skip ahead in time - there are more stories I'd like to tell from "Pre-Service Training", but for now I will take you to my life in rural Việt Nam so I can share more regular updates as they happen.
