Vietnam isn’t a dream. I’m tired in the mornings. I’m irritated during power outages. I’m pissed that people grab me without asking. I’m annoyed when motorbikes and trucks honk more than they need to. I’m frustrated when my students don’t make an effort to understand me, disrespect my privacy, or tell me I am “from China.”
But, I am so glad that Vietnam isn’t a dream. I have come to realize that my frustration is my problem, not a problem with the country itself. As a DukeEngage student, I have absolutely no right to judge or complain about the living conditions or culture in a country that I have the fortune to visit, free of charge. Doing so would be the definition of entitlement and close-mindedness.
So, every time I find something that bothers me, I take note. In doing so, I have learned that there are many more things that bother me than I thought there would be, meaning that my prissiness and internal judgments are much more prevalent than I originally thought they were. For example, I was legitimately frustrated over not having access to AC during an hour-long power outage, while none of my students, and almost none of our roommates, live with AC normally. I know, I’m the worst. It’s an unfortunate realization, but an important one. After telling myself for months that I was going to Vietnam to observe and learn, I still can’t help but judge—it makes me wonder what judgments I’ve unconsciously made in the US. I’m grateful to DukeEngage for helping me learn more about myself, and hope to be more self-aware about my close-mindedness and entitlement when I get back to the States.
I’ve also realized that when it comes to cultural differences, you can’t separate what you love and what bothers you—it’s impossible to have one without the other. For example, if cars didn’t drive so aggressively, I also wouldn’t have been able to go on a jet ski at the Danang beach for 5 dollars without signing a waiver—I believe both of these come from the more relaxed, less “I’ll-sue-you” culture. Because of the tendency for Vietnamese people to be more open with each other (privacy seems less important), students are always grabbing me or going through my things, but it also means that I can also easily have meaningful conversations with the Vietnamese roommates without worrying about being too vulnerable. Observing the different effects of these fundamental cultural differences is fascinating—there’s so much more nuance than I would originally think.
I started my blog with complaints to make a point about myself, but I really am having a blast in Vietnam. Every day, countless things surprise me and every morning, I wake up eager to face the day. Cultural exchanges through dumb YouTube videos, having students willingly stay 30 minutes after class for pronunciation lessons, discovering that “girl talk” is universal after numerous conversations with Trinh, nail painting parties, communicating with the masons during construction even though we don’t speak the same language, seeing other American students face the same challenges of teaching and construction and drawing inspiration from them—these are all amazing moments that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
In general, I focus more on daily life and less on extraneous things like Facebook or Netflix (not having cell phone data or great wifi helps). I remember two weekends ago, Trinh and I were in Hue sitting at her kitchen table, eating fresh watermelon that we had just bought from the market; we had just come back from waterfalls and were about to visit a beautiful pagoda. I told her, “This is the life,” and it seriously is.
But, I am so glad that Vietnam isn’t a dream. I have come to realize that my frustration is my problem, not a problem with the country itself. As a DukeEngage student, I have absolutely no right to judge or complain about the living conditions or culture in a country that I have the fortune to visit, free of charge. Doing so would be the definition of entitlement and close-mindedness.
So, every time I find something that bothers me, I take note. In doing so, I have learned that there are many more things that bother me than I thought there would be, meaning that my prissiness and internal judgments are much more prevalent than I originally thought they were. For example, I was legitimately frustrated over not having access to AC during an hour-long power outage, while none of my students, and almost none of our roommates, live with AC normally. I know, I’m the worst. It’s an unfortunate realization, but an important one. After telling myself for months that I was going to Vietnam to observe and learn, I still can’t help but judge—it makes me wonder what judgments I’ve unconsciously made in the US. I’m grateful to DukeEngage for helping me learn more about myself, and hope to be more self-aware about my close-mindedness and entitlement when I get back to the States.
I’ve also realized that when it comes to cultural differences, you can’t separate what you love and what bothers you—it’s impossible to have one without the other. For example, if cars didn’t drive so aggressively, I also wouldn’t have been able to go on a jet ski at the Danang beach for 5 dollars without signing a waiver—I believe both of these come from the more relaxed, less “I’ll-sue-you” culture. Because of the tendency for Vietnamese people to be more open with each other (privacy seems less important), students are always grabbing me or going through my things, but it also means that I can also easily have meaningful conversations with the Vietnamese roommates without worrying about being too vulnerable. Observing the different effects of these fundamental cultural differences is fascinating—there’s so much more nuance than I would originally think.
I started my blog with complaints to make a point about myself, but I really am having a blast in Vietnam. Every day, countless things surprise me and every morning, I wake up eager to face the day. Cultural exchanges through dumb YouTube videos, having students willingly stay 30 minutes after class for pronunciation lessons, discovering that “girl talk” is universal after numerous conversations with Trinh, nail painting parties, communicating with the masons during construction even though we don’t speak the same language, seeing other American students face the same challenges of teaching and construction and drawing inspiration from them—these are all amazing moments that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
In general, I focus more on daily life and less on extraneous things like Facebook or Netflix (not having cell phone data or great wifi helps). I remember two weekends ago, Trinh and I were in Hue sitting at her kitchen table, eating fresh watermelon that we had just bought from the market; we had just come back from waterfalls and were about to visit a beautiful pagoda. I told her, “This is the life,” and it seriously is.