Thanksgiving x4

This week I celebrated my first major holiday away from home. And it did, indeed, make me homesick.  I missed the family traditions and the inner feeling of warmth and excitement that comes with this season. But our Thanksgiving here was not ignored. In fact, I celebrated the holiday four times.

Wednesday: We had a number of students over (about 27), and Sarah shared with them the history of the holiday and many of its traditions. Though we didn’t have a meal, the students were introduced to microwave popcorn. They didn’t believe Sarah when she told them this flat, brown paper bag was going to become popcorn when she put it in the microwave. They were mesmerized. Of course, the time couldn’t pass without requests for songs. Eventually, several of them ended up performing a children’s song here about a duck. The results were hilarious.

Thursday: Sarah and I taught until 5:30pm, and then headed to the grocery store. Our “Thanksgiving Dinner” consisted of cheeseburgers and fries from Lotteria (think McDonald’s) before we commenced shopping. Yes, it was anti-climactic and felt nothing like Thanksgiving.

Friday: We invited several of the other teachers living in the guest house, a couple other REI staff, and a couple Vietnamese friends to share the holiday with us. We made sure there were mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie, which turned out to be quite the task, running all over Hanoi to find foreign goods stores that carried the ingredients we needed and finding an oven to bake everything in (thanks Ginny!). Then we asked each guest to bring a cultural dish to share. 11 guests total, representing 6 countries (U.S., Philippines, Spain, India, Vietnam, and China). Talk about an international Thanksgiving! So much fun. An extra special treat was that the woman who cleans the guesthouse for us (who we had invited and who had initially declined) ended up joining us for a while. We were also grateful the kitchen transformed so beautifully and that our first pumpkin pie baking experience was a success!

The Group! Minus Sam, the only male represenative.

Our version of a turkey. And the pretty table!

Enjoying pumpkin pie for the first time.

Saturday: We were invited over to another REI staff’s home for a traditional American celebration of the holiday with other ex-pats living in the area. Turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and all the fixings. It was delicious. And much more relaxing than being the host.

Overall, it was an enjoyable holiday. I’m so grateful for the people that have been put in my life here, and for the time I got to spend with them this week celebrating. I also don’t need to eat anything for the next week.

Settling the Score

Just thought it should be known that Sunday night I did, indeed, kill the cockroach. It may or may not have involved a little bit of screaming, standing on a bed, lots of orange scented bug killing spray (which doesn't actually seem to work very well), a broom, and a cheerleader (i.e., Sarah). But the nasty bug is now dead. I'll consider myself very blessed if that's the only time this year I have to deal with these critters.

But it does really make me wonder - why were these things created? And moreover, called good? Same with mosquitos. Did they not used to bite? 6 inch long poisonous centipedes? I was reading the other day about foot-long centipedes that can hang from the ceiling of caves and eat bats. Maybe Tolkien's and Lewis's fantasy words aren't quite so far from reality as I once thought they were. These thoughts tie back to a theme I've been trying to begin to grasp for a while: What do goodness and beauty really look like? I know the Father is the epitomy of these things--or rather, defines them. But what do they look like in life? I think we "cuddle-ify" them in our imaginations far too frequently.

Cockroach - 1, Samantha - 0

Today I returned to my room and was walking past my bed when I saw a large blackish dot near the wall that half-registered in my brain as an insect. I did a double-take and found there was, indeed, a cockroach sitting there motionless. My first reaction was to put on closed-toe slippers, open the door, grab a broom, and mount my bed (all while staring at the insect, of course, to make sure it didn't move). My intention was to sweep it outside, making the first swipe while perched atop the bed in case anything should go amiss.

So I stood there. And I stood there. And I stood there some more, trying to make up my mind to actually execute the action plan. I’m sure if anyone glanced in through the open door they were thoroughly amused to see an American standing on her bed, broom in hands, staring at the floor. After literally at least 5 minutes (and several false starts), the critter decided it wasn’t going to wait for me to shoe it. It ran back behind my nightstand/bed. Ironically, despite knowing that it was still in my room, I felt better simply having it out of sight.

Pathetic? Yes. I’m well aware. Irrational? Again, well aware.

Last week I successfully chased an ugly critter about half the width and twice the length of a cockroach out of room with a broom. But today, defeat. Maybe next time I’ll settle the score. I think I need to invest in some bug-killing spray. I’m currently hoping cockroaches don’t climb walls/ceilings. If you know the answer and it’s a yes, don’t tell me. Ignorance is bliss in this particular situation.

Oh. And I now have two footprints on my previously clean bed sheets.

Dandelions

I’ve been trying to put a finger on the restlessness I’ve begun to feel in the past month. It’s not overwhelming. But sometimes something seems missing. A bit of loneliness. Though it took me a while to figure out the reason, the answer now seems obvious. I’m in transition. And with transition anywhere comes a season of re-developing relationships.

I miss the ease, comfort, and fun of friendships back home. I dislike this awkward period of beginning relationships, even though it certainly has its beautiful moments. And I am frustrated by the lack of closeness I feel in my new Vietnamese friendships. But I’m forgetting just how long it took to develop the close relationships I experienced back home. I’m comparing relationships that have been in place for no longer than 2 months to friendships I built over at least three years. Also, this stage is something I’d be experiencing no matter where in the world I was right now - saying goodbye to college friends and transitioning into the “real world,” including many new relationships.

Granted, the process is magnified by being in a different cultural context. Fewer common experiences make for more difficulty in truly understanding and relating. The relationships are equally precious, but seemingly slower in developing. Brian, the director of REI-VN, wisely pointed out that our friendships here could actually be growing three times as quickly as they did in the U.S., but the gap between our backgrounds (not to mention language!) is so great that the relationships still may not feel as close as ones we developed over an even shorter period of time back home. (Say, for example, 3 weeks? Shout-out to CO training folks!)

So how does all this relate to dandelions? Sarah and I were talking about this transitional stage, and she made a great analogy. Our friendships from home are like a dandelion. We grew up together for a period of time in the same stalk and flower. We experienced the awkward beginning stages as the green plant began poking up from the ground. Then those friendships blossomed. And as we grew, we impacted and shaped one another, truly affecting who we have become today.

But dandelions turn white. They die. And the seeds are blown apart, in every which direction. Perhaps to Colorado, Michigan, North Dakota, Texas, Kentucky…the Dominican Republic, Guinea Bissau, Japan, Thailand, Slovenia, Uganda, Turkey, Vietnam, Northern Minnesota...you get the idea.

It’s simultaneously a sad and a happy phenomenon (oh the paradox of life). And one that will repeat itself who knows how many times in each person’s life. The concept’s by no means new. But I liked the dandelion picture. And how viral dandelions can be. I wonder what we would find if we could pick one of today’s dandelionsand trace the story of its ancestral seeds all the way back to their origination? Food for thought.