Every afternoon as I come to teach, the mom gives me all sorts of snacks + drinks. I see her talking to the other neighbors, smiling at me proudly. It's still very much a village mentality out here; from our porch you can see the rice paddies that are flooded by the river each year. + my "grandfather" harvested rice right out in those fields. So when my "little brother" brings 2 neighbor girls from next door, I guess I'm supposed to teach them too. I'm teaching ABCs to little kids who don't speak a lick of English. I can barely speak theirs, so I have to look everything up in the dictionary: "Color this red. What letter is this? What sound does this word begin with?" Now the the neighborhood kids run around + play by my house.
Yesterday, my dad asks me if I can help him move stuff. How long will it take? Oh, about 2 hours he says. It takes 6. We drive 20 kilometers out of town to an open-air restaurant next to a soccer stadium. I haul the tent into the bed of his Hyundai pickup. It takes 10 minutes. Then they spend the next couple of hours at the restaurant watching TV, drinking beer + chew on dried squid. I eat peanuts + when they clink their glasses, I lift up my plastic water bottle too.
We're watching sports on TV. 20 years ago, everybody was still riding bicycles around + electricity was spotty. Now everybody watches TV all day, like they're trying to make up for lost time. Of course, the national team loses again, and my dad is driving me back home in a bad mood, with a can of beer in his hand. I can smell the alcohol on his breath because he's already had about a 6-pack already. The 10-year old truck doesn't have power steering + he's weaving in + out around motorbikes + cussing people out in broken English + my seatbelt doesn't work + suddenly he decides to park up on the curb while mom jumps out to buy a 75 cent lotto ticket.
It's almost 10pm + we're still not home. Because they stop @ a friend's house to eat some shellfish in peanut sauce, while I eat chicken. They're camped out by the sidewalk, yelling at random passerbys they know. They take Pepsis from the convenience store next door (it's a friend) + noodles from the restaurant across the street (it's his brother). Mom screams because she won $180 with her lotto ticket + she's all bubbly now, buying everyone drinks. I'm sitting with my leg propped up + dad tells me to put it down. "Not good. We don't sit like that, that's how Vietnamese people sit. We sit like this, both feet on the ground." He teaches me how to bow to people, with head bowed slightly, both hands pressed together, and thumbs to your nose. At the temple, you put your thumbs to your forehead. He makes me practice to his friends, and I feel kind of stupid, like he's treating me like a 5-year old kid
But when I tell him it's getting late + he rushes to take me home, I realize: a few weeks ago, I used to be their foreign next-door neighbor with his own life. Now, I'm part of their family, their village, their life. Somehow, I've become his son. He asks me how long I'm going to stay here in his country. I want to tell him the truth, that I don't want to ever leave. But instead what I tell him is: 2 years.
