Jem, Jem is my name, no one else is the same Jem is my name!

She stopped at the local dress shop to see if anything new had come in. There were a few new dresses that caught her eye and she decided that the pink one was just right. Little did she know when she bought the cute pink dress that soon her hair would be dyed to match...

Yup, you guessed it, I had a crazy hair experience...I finally gave in and went to a hair salon here. I made it abundantly clear that I wanted highlights and lowlights in the exact same colour that I already had. They didn't understand the concept of lowlights and that should have been my clue to quit while I was ahead...I forged on. I showed them the two colours that I already had, a blond and a brown, and then I explained how to use the foils and to stagger the colours, it was not an easy process. To confuse them even more, I had to show them what a half set would look like... and they still did that wrong. Needless to say it was an adventure from the start.

After I explained everything as clearly as I possibly could a team of three hairstylists (I use that term lightly) started working on my head. They were using the foils like it was the first time they had ever used them and I looked like a topiary tree with tinfoil balls on it by the time they were done. When they had finished their handy work they just disappeared, poof, off to work on other patrons, no timer was set...just me and my sparkly bush head.

A significant amount of time passed before someone came to check on me, and when the woman opened one of the foils she gasped and ran to the back room - never a good sign - she came running back with a towel and another 'hairstylist' and she proceeded to open the top foils and towel off the colour (which at this point was platinum blond, I am talking bad eighties frosted tips craziness!) as the other stylist looked on in horror. So as she frantically wipes my bleached blond locks off, he just stares...I'm thinking maybe I should suggest taking me to the sink to wash the chemicals that are frying my hair to oblivion out but, before I get a chance, they disappear again. At this point I started to get a bit antsy. I asked the 'manager' if maybe I should get the rest of the foils out - he said I needed 5 more minutes...hmm were they hoping that my hair would melt off so I wouldn't see that I looked like a reject from a Sun In commercial?

So, five minutes passed and no one was attending to me I asked again and one of the three stooges came to open my low light foils, a similar scene played out except this time it wasn't a gasp it was a distinct, "Oh!" and the colour was not blond, nor was it brown, it was MAGENTA!! I am talking bright purpley pink! All I could do was laugh.

Anyway, they took me back to the sink and you could tell that they were a bit freaked out. One person would come in and look and say something to the shampoo-er and then leave and someone else would come in. I felt like a new exhibit at the zoo - " And look what we have here folks, a fine specimen, we call here Western girl with freaky pink streaks!" I just lay there with my rock-n-roll hair, thinking about how I was going to have to find a way to tone it down a bit.

Finally, the zoo inspired shampoo session ended and I was unleashed back into the main salon. The main stylist took back over and blew my circa 1985 "Jem and the holograms" hair dry and I left the salon...with a whole new appreciation for the colour pink. Good thing I don't take myself too seriously.

kids day in ho chi minh

Volunteering with the children in Ben Tre is very rewarding and I really enjoy the time I spend with them. I was asked, along with Krista, to help with a kids day in the city. I thought that it would be a lot of fun - and it was- but it wasn't without its Vietnam charm.

Sixty children from the countryside were being brought in to Ho Chi Minh City for the first time ever. What an exciting event. The children were going to leave their community center at 04:30 to arrive in HCMC at around 09:00. A collection of volunteers including myself and Krista were to meet them at the zoo at that time. All volunteers were asked to bring something for the children that day (a snack, an activity etc...). We were asked to provide water bottles for all of the children (a seemingly small task). Krista and I arranged for water bottles to be brought to the zoo for all of the children. We wanted each child to have 5oomL of water to carry with them at the zoo. Simple, right? Nope. What was delivered to the park were two giant 10 L water jugs (Very portable - exactly what you want to walk around the zoo with). Needless to say, there was some sort of miss-communication and it wasn't going to be possible to walk around with the big jugs all day. This meant that we needed to send someone who spoke Vietnamese to get the type of water bottles that we wanted and we also needed a volunteer to babysit 20L of water while we walked around the park. Brilliant.

The zoo itself was hard for me because I have mixed feelings about creatures in captivity (I've been known to cry at marineland...) but I thought I would be a good sport and suck it up for the kids. It definitely wasn't a great experience for me but the kids seemed to like it. I will not get into the small ponds with too many crocodiles, or the elephants on chains...but I will discuss the barfing children because it brings a perplexing topic to the surface for me.

We are at the zoo and there are several children who are not feeling well, one of which is in my smaller group. As we round the bend to the 'petting zoo' (I think 'crazy-little-goats-running-around-in-an-enclosed-space' would be a better name) this little girl turns and barfs in the grass. I am concerned so I stop and ask her if she is okay - she stares at me blankly because she doesn't speak English. The other guide who speaks Vietnamese comes up and says, "She's fine, just go." Clearly she was not fine but I started to leave just as she started throwing up again. I suggested that maybe she take a rest and get some water but the other guide was bound and determined to get this poor child in the pen with the crazy goats. It took the child two more rounds of being sick in the grass before the other guide would take her to rest in the shade! I don't get it, talk about tough love! Anyway, I started to think about it and even at school the children come when they are sick...they never seem to stay at home...and then people walk around with face masks on...it just seems so bizarre to me. Anyway, she rested and got some water and joined the group again later in the morning.

We had a picnic lunch at the zoo (chicken, rice, vegetables and soup in a bag - yup, soup in a bag folks! They serve everything in a bag here! I've seen coffee in a bag, curry in a bag, soup in a bag, milk, tea, juice...you name it and you can get it in a bag. It is weird to see people drinking coffee through a straw from a clear plastic bag - I have yet to try it, but I have had soup from a bag and curry in a bag so I am not far off). Then we did a few activities with our groups and headed to the water park.

In my humble opinion combining mass groups of children and a water park is never a good idea. I am a teacher and my safety alarm goes into hyper space when I think that my students might even think about beeing near a possible safety hazard. You can just imagine how stressed I was about taking a large group of kids, who may or may not have ever been in the water before, to a water park in HCMC.

Now, I am not sure if anyone understands the difference in safety standards in Canada vs. Vietnam but I will admit they are vast. Gaping. Not even on the same spectrum. Coronary would be a good way to describe this phase of the day - BECAUSE I ALMOST HAD ONE!

I should also mention that most of the other volunteers on this trip don't manage large groups of children on a regular basis. There are only two of us teacher types and the rest are just kind souls.

First, unleash the kids into the change room to get changed (no one supervise this phase please, just let Cheratien panic because any child could be taken at anytime and short of counting every last one no one would really notice).

Second, tell the children to put their name lanyards around their necks before they go on the slides so we know who they are (watch Cheratien argue with other volunteers that this idea is insane because the kids might get the name tags caught on something and choke to death or get sucked into some sort of underwater filtration devise). (It was a hard battle but Krista and I finally convinced the supervisors this was a bad,bad,bad idea).

Third, tell the kids to take off the lanyards...and then go have fun! What the hell? No they can't just go off into the water park! You can't just let 60 kids, from the countryside, who might or might not know how to swim, go into the water park by themselves! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhh!
We need a buddy system! We need small groups! Make this nightmare stop!

Don't worry Folks, after some quick convincing the children were divided into small groups, put into the buddy system, given times to check in and then guided by their leaders into the water park! Phew!

The water park itself was an interesting place. Apparently there are no rule about what you wear at a water park here in HCMC. I saw people in jeans and hoodies, skirts, dress shirts, shorts and tops...you name it and they were wearing it (another safety hazard - but not my concern, all of our kids had appropriate attire which we provided for them). Now, there were some swim suits, but it definitely was not mandatory! I guess it is a good way to have fun and wash your clothes all at once. Multi-tasking in a whole new way. Also, there was live entertainment, think boy band feat cheesy karaoke, only entertaining because it is so bad you can't believe it is happening.

The day ended with a photo shoot. Now, we all have our idea of what a photo shoot is like but it is nothing like a photo shoot here. Add a tremendous amount of picture taking to what you are imagining and then add really silly posing now drag it out for an hour longer than necessary and you might be close to what it is like to be part of a photo shoot here in Saigon. After that the kids were on their way back home as happy as clams!

I am glad that I had a chance to be a part of this experience, although it was stressful at times, it was really rewarding and soooooo much fun to see the kids having fun.

Hoi An

So I am doing some back blog...

For October break I went to Hoi An with Krista and Jeremy. We, being the good Westerners that we are left for the airport in good time so we would be there at least an hour before our flight. When our crew of eager beavers arrived at the airport, it was closed. CLOSED. We actually had to sit outside and wait. I am not kidding. Who knew that airports close? Anyway, we were definitely on time for our flight and it went relatively smoothly.

Hoi An is a beautiful little town full of culture and tailors! If you want something made, this is your town! From shoes to suits, if you can draw it they can make it. I was not mentally prepared for the tailors - it was intense. They are like sharks in the street. They hover around waiting for the unsuspecting customer and if you make eye contact it is over. You may as well just surrender and go take a look at the store.

Now, I am not really a shopper at the best of times. First, I must have a need for something - for example, if the ass just blew out of my favorite pair of jeans I would NEED new jeans. Secondly, on top of the necessity I must also mix in desire - ie. if need new jeans and I want to go get them right now, I might just have a successful shopping mission. Finally, when it comes to shopping for clothes, I often can not make a decision to save my soul, even if the need and desire are there. My shopping pattern tends to be try on anything that looks like it might remotely fit/look okay and then pick one thing that works. Then try that one thing on again and again looking at all possible angles, do the mental math of how many times I must wear the item to make it worth spending the money, debate, debate, debate. Then I usually put the item back on the rack and leave, only to return a few days later to purchase the item if it is still on my mind. Needless to say, if you put me in a place where I need to imagine what will be made to perfectly fit my body, it induces sheer panic.

I think in some ways my shopping disability was an advantage. I only got a few items made and I was quite happy with all of them. Bonus, they were pretty cheap!


Now aside from tailors, Hoi An is very charming. My crew decided that we would mountain bike around the whole town. It was a good decision, and we all had a great time. I think the highlights were taking the ferry across the river (the ferry is for bikes and motorbikes and it was the most crowded, congested, dilapidated ferry I have ever been on), me almost being abducted by a drunken church goer because I stopped to take a picture, and Krista being hit on by our very short, very cute, tour guide.

After our day of biking we decided we should also go see marble mountain. It is a place where temples have been built and amazing sculptures have been carved (0ut of marble, of course) right inside of the mountain. I was astounded by the work that was done inside this mountain. The sculptures were huge, intricate, and looked like they belonged. It was amazing. Also, from the top of the mountain you could see 'China Beach'. Sometimes it is hard to imagine that all of the things I have only seen glorified on movies and TV shows actually took place... Being in the center of the country, near Denang, really brought that home. Also, having the chance to talk to people about the effects of the war and how the North vs. the South effected them is really interesting. The central region really tried to stay out of the war. It almost comes across as if they didn't really care either way who was in charge, as long as there was someone in charge and it was peaceful.

Two days of activity = one day at the beach. We decided it was time to hit the coast and off we went to play in the waves. We went to the more touristy beach and had an enjoyable day (for the most part- Krista and Jeremy had a disagreement, so to speak, and I thought that I might need to bunker down for another war...) playing in the waves and relaxing.

The next day, Krista and I headed for a cooking class. Now that was a treat. We went to the market to purchase our ingredients. The market was an amazing experience (as it always is in developing nation) and the Vietnamese fish market was something to behold. It was crowded, bustling, and crammed with every kind of produce you could imagine. For the most part the fish were still alive and flopping and the sales people were hustling their wares. After the market, we headed off down river, with an eclectic boatload of companions - including a 50 + woman with royal blue hair - to a culinary class run by a sharp witted Vietnamese chef. It was not beyond him to whack you one if you did something wrong, or for him to point out in a very overt way that you were a cooking disaster. Note to self, making rice paper is best left to the experts. Also, flipping Vietnamese pancakes is much more challenging than it looks (at least I did not flip mine on to the floor). Even though it was slightly stressful, and my cucumber garnish did not take on a fan like form, it was a great day and a great meal. YUM!

Our next adventure was to My Son. " My Son is the major site in Vietnam from the ancient Champa Kingdom which flourished between the 2nd and 15th centuries. The Kingdom at My Son dates back to the 4th century and remained fully occupied through until the 13th century which makes it the longest occupied of all the major monuments of SE Asia. It served as a religious and intellectual centre where Champa kings were crowned and buried. In 1999 it was named a UNESCO World Heritage site". I pulled that info, in case you were wondering...but it is all true, and probably better explained than I could have done without assistance. Anyway, getting to My Son was probably more of an adventure than seeing the ruins, so I will put that in my own words!

Krista and I decided that we would get to My Son on our own. We were assured by locals that it would be easy to find, so easy they drew us a map. Never, ever, ever, trust a Vietnamese map, ever! What looked like a straight line from A to B with one left turn was more like an adventure through the most complex labyrinth of rice fields ever. Some how, at a Y in the road, we ended up in rice paddies and although most people were startled to see two white westerners driving through their fields they were more than happy to point us in the direction of My Son...the world heritage site...that is not marked with any signage...at all!

We drove for a very long time, dodging cows and chickens along the way, stopping almost every fifteen minutes to ask some random farmer if we were still heading in the right direction. Good thing saying, "My Son" and pointing with a puzzled look on our faces translated well into Vietnamese! Finally, some Vietnamese bloke felt sorry for us and decided to show us the way. He was rather sweet, driving just far enough a head that we could follow him with out worry. He lead us right to the site (and I am not too sure we would have made it without his assistance because even after we entered the gate to the site we weren't sure if we actually arrived - see note on 'no signage' above).

The sight itself was really interesting. I find it hard to believe how intricate and well built the ruins are. Definitely worth the wild goose chase to get there. The site itself is not too expansive but impressive none the less. We were fortunate that it was rather quiet when we were there and we toured the ruins at our leisure.

It was kind of overcast and it started to drizzle as we left, we were not looking forward to the ride home in the rain, not only because riding in the rain sucks but because we didn't think we had a hope in hell of actually finding our way back...that is when the proverbial fates reminded Krista and me, no matter how bad you think it is, it can always be worse. As we were leaving we met up with a couple of guys that seemed to be having bike trouble...turns out they lost their motorcycle key in the Champa Ruins! They didn't have a spare key so they decided to hot wire the bike. Successful - yes - only problem was the steering wheel locked on them and they could only drive in a circle! Yes, yes, driving in the rain seems like a blessing when you could potentially be driving in a perpetual circle in the rain. Sorry guys, it really did suck to be you!

Fortunately for us, the rain was short lived and we were back to dodging cows and chickens with high hopes to find the trail back home. Along our country road, if you could call it that, we went. All of the sudden we came into traffic. Traffic? On a deserted stretch of country road? What is going on here? Wait a second...is that a funeral procession? Fantastic...a funeral! We tried to be inconspicuous (hmm, how can we try to look Vietnamese?) and pass all of the people but it didn't work so well.

Before we knew it Krista and I were adorned with funeral flowers and were part of the pack. How the hell were we graciously going to get out of this one? We drove slowly along taking our new station quite seriously, waving our flowers and looking grimly around, hoping that we would be able to get away, to where we weren't quite sure because we sure as hell had no idea where we were actually going but we also knew we didn't want to be driving at a snails pace in the wrong direction for a long time either. We'd rather get lost quickly. Fate was actually on our side for a second (or third, or fourth...possibly fifth time that day) and there was a turn that was taken by the mourners and we went straight. We ended up on a highway and managed to get home unscathed...a little bit giddy at all that had gone on...

Playing it safe, we headed to a less touristy beach with one of our new found local friends the next day. She was one of the young ladies that ran the hotel and was a lot of fun to chat with. She was very open and honest about cultural issues and even volunteered to take us to an orphanage which we had previously looked into due to mention from another friend. The day at the beach was really enjoyable because it was less touristy. The weather was perfect and I especially had fun playing in the waves. Krista and Jeremy remained allies and all in all it was a fantastic day.

Our final full day arrived and we arranged to go to the Hoi An Orphanage. It was an experience I wont soon forget. We were greeted in the playground by a handful of children, all with disabilities. They were very bright and full of life and knew that we were there to play. They pretty much dragged us in to the dorm and mauled us all. It was hard to see so many little munchkins, with so much love, in such a dismal place.

The children were well cared for (despite the fact that the building was terribly understaffed) and showed a lot of affection toward each other. We had purchased some snacks for the children, mostly milk, crackers, and cheese (stuff our students in HCMC enjoy). When we handed the food out, they were so sweet about making sure that every one got their fair share. One little guy, who couldn't speak, took me by the hand to another area where one of the girls was sleeping to make sure that she didn't miss out on the treats.

I was near tears most of the time we spent there but felt really happy to be able to donate my time. One little gapper decided he was a photographer and took my camera. He took his job quite seriously, I might add, making his friends pose, taking the shot, then setting them up again. I couldn't help but encourage him. It was one of my most memorable days for sure.

Before I left a little girl made me a beautiful paper flower and bashfully made one of her friends give it to me, while she giggled and hid in the doorway. I felt so honored by the gift. She finally got up the courage to tell me she had made the flower and that made it even more precious to me. I made sure it arrived back in Saigon unscathed and it rests on my bookshelf as a reminder. If only I could send hugs with my mind.