Sandy Bottom Girl

Ava is a true water baby.  Since she was just two months old, we have taken Ava to our local “Sandy Bottom” pool to cool off on the steamy weekends.  

This past weekend while Ava spent hours scooping sand into her bucket just to empty it out and fill it up again, I was able to take in the atmosphere around me.  On this particular visit, we arrived to the pool at about 9:00 AM and it was already brimming with children laughing and playing.  Ava chose a quiet corner of the pool where she could sit and master her scooping skills while the cacophony of voices filled the air around us.

From under the shade of my hat, I took note of the many cultural differences that unfolded around me. Here in Vietnam, children that don’t yet know how to swim are often straddled with a variety of floatation devices that cover every possible body part…. all at the same time.  It isn’t uncommon to see children wearing a life vest over their floatation swimsuits, with water wings on each arm and a life ring wrapped around their waist.  Some children are so buoyant, that they float on top of the water like a giant ocean buoy bobbing on the surface.  I know that this over cautiousness comes from a very real fear of the water. Sadly, drowning tops the leading causes of death in children here in Vietnam.

For those that have learned to swim and have been able to shed their plastic suits of armor, they are now able to show off their swimsuit style.  There happen to be a few common styles preferred by the patrons of our local pool.  The most common is the uni-suit that is a one piece full length suit that looks like a combination of the ultraconservative numbers from the 1900s and the suits preferred by Lucha libre wrestlers.  Add to this, goggles and a swim cap that is less Michael Phelps and more Esther Williams and you complete this unisex look.  Another favorite style is reminiscent of the suits worn by Ice Capades performers.  These suits are also the full length variety, but these have the added skirt and often come in retro neon colors.

After spending many years as a lifeguard, I am still very sensitive to the ubiquitous whistle.  It's funny to think about what makes it to the lifeguard’s list of offenses.  At our sandy bottom pool, running as fast as you can on the slippery pool deck won’t even garner a glance.  Whacking each other with kickboards and general horse play seem to be non-whistle worthy as well.  Infractions that do grab the lifeguard’s attention is wearing a simple t-shirt into the pool (sorry you can’t wear a t-shirt to cover your sunburn daddy, I guess you will need to invest in one of the above mentioned unitards). 

There must be some unmentioned rule that when the clock strikes 11:00 AM it is time to evacuate the pool.  This is a phenomenon we find at any pool here in Vietnam. One minute it is packed and a few minutes later you find yourself alone in the pool with only a few lone stragglers (mostly of Western origin)  that obviously didn’t get the message that it was time to leave.  We usually take this time to enjoy the quiet before we pack up to leave.

Before packing up to go home for a nap, we usually have lunch at the pool.  Ava loves Jiaozi (Chinese style dumplings) and will eat an entire plate, dipping them in the garlic-soy sauce with her chopsticks. Then we wrap up our wet, sandy bottomed, soy sauced baby and take her home for a nap.

Auntie and Uncle

Brett and Heather are Ava's surrogate auntie and uncle in Vietnam. We have hands down travelled more with them than any other staff members and have been to Sri Lanka, North Sulawesi and Hoi An in central Vietnam just this year. And it's not even June. Despite not seeming to be rushing to the opportunity to have kids of their own, I'm always taken aback for their love of Ava and how much they take of her. How did we get so lucky?

We had a big negotiation a few weeks ago and persuaded Brett and Heather to stay at our school another two years, which is our tentative plan as well. Two years goes by fast though. I remember when we landed 6 years ago and walking the streets of Phu My Hung for the first time thinking that Vietnam might be a temporary thing though. As the school as grown and as it's quality has as well, we have less reason to leave. Our friendships have strengthened and I play music with a great bunch of people-who I'd hate to leave. What guarantees do we have that such people can be found in new places?

That's the nature of international teaching: high turnover. Our school's turnover is low but people have already come after we've come here and left before us. I feel that we've been at our school so long that we're starting to become the place. I hear of people that have been at a school for over a decade and my first thought is "what is wrong with you?" But here we are approaching the ten year mark like fast ticking hands on a clock.

Next year will be Ava's last year at "Kids Club" and then she enters our school. She'll come to school with us and hang out in our classrooms until she has to go see her teacher. I hope Brett and Heather will be around then too. Good friends are hard to come by.

Small Moments

Usually, when getting the tootie dressed in and out of her jammies, she can usually do it as they are two piece pajamas. However, we have this one piece that zips up the leg and requires a little more dexterity to get in and out of them. Up till now, Ava has resigned herself to having me get her in and out of them but earlier this week Ava said "I can do it!".

She is saying this phrase more and more. What is hilarious is often she'll ask to do something which is so rudimentary instead of having me do it easily for her. For example I'll give her a piece of cheese from the fridge and she'll declare "No, I can do it!" and after giving her the cheese, she'll put it back in the fridge, close the door, open the door and then get it herself. Sheesh.

This must be what independence looks like. A person cannot do something by themselves and then they can. The small moments happen slowly too. In the upstairs we have a collection of Ava's old things such as her diaper bag, activity station, training potty and numerous other toys. We did some spring cleaning and decided to cull them out of her collection.

It seems just like the other day that we were using them. The diaper bag was invaluable last summer on our travels, she was using the training potty last fall, and her rocking caterpillar was her favorite toy-for a while. I recall after changing what seemed like a thousand diapers that I couldn't wait for her to be toilet trained, and now she is. I can't remember the last time I changed a poopie diaper and part of me misses it.

As one of my co-workers just had a baby boy, I am reminded of when we were in the hospital just bringing her into the world. I remember it as vividly as it was yesterday. I remember the color my shirt, the color of Ava's poop, and the color of the first time she threw up down my chest. Since then, she has become a toddler and I ask myself, "Where has the time gone?" Yes, she has accrued 10 stamps in her passport, yes, her favorite food has changed from avacados to hot dogs, and yes, she has new teeth coming in. But she'll always be my little baby, and my big girl at the same time.

These changes are too many to mention and happen on a timeline that you can't possibly see until they're gone and behind you and you realize those moments were such a wonderful time in your life; if only you had realized how good you had it. All one can do is take in the present, enjoy every day, and so we can say "back then, times were great."

Defining Home

This weekend while out for some brunch, Ava was engaged in a simple conversation with a women that we met in a restaurant.  The lady began with the usual questions “What is your name?”  and “How old are you?” to which Ava responded with poise and ease. Subsequently, the lady began to probe a bit deeper and asked Ava “Where are you from?” Ava’s usual response to this particular question is “Saigon” but after a few seconds of pensive thought, with the point of one little finger and a twinkle in those impossibly dark eyes, Ava replied “Disneyland!”

As an adult global nomad, when asked “Where are you from?” I too, often pause to contemplate before I en devour to share. Although my answer has never been quite as whimsical as “Disneyland” my response often hinges on my mood, the situation and the amount of time I have to explain.

For Ava, the answer to the question “Where are you from?” is usually very simple, “Saigon.” For Gary and me, the uncomplicated, easy reply is “The States.”  Sometimes this answer alone is enough to suit the inquisitor, but often the follow up question is “Oh, where in The States are you from?” This is when things get a bit more difficult as I don’t have one definite answer for this question.

For Gary and I, when we board the long flight back to the US we know that we are going home, however for Ava we are simply going to see Grandma and Grandpa. It isn’t until we board the flight back to Saigon that she considers she is on her way home. Sometimes I joke that home is where I hang my backpack. For being a global nomad, your passport tells you what country you are allowed to reside in, but it is your heart that tells you where is home.