Field Trip!



Palm trees on drying rice



Just what every first week of school needs...a field trip!  Still lacking a formal curriculum (which is sitting in Saigon awaiting government review to ensure that it is not, in fact, anti-government propaganda disguised as school materials), we worked on community building and did lots of group projects this week.  So, we decided to finish off the week with a field trip into our own back yard, the Ancient City of Hoi An.  Here I could feed you lots of nifty tidbits about this beautiful UNESCO World Heritage site that we are living in, but I'll let you Google it for the details.  Much more exciting is the reality of walking a couple of miles in midday sun and heat with a gaggle of kids to tour old buildings. 

I'll admit that I was the only one who thought a walk would be a good idea.  I figured that four days cooped in a classroom was more than enough.  Recess and lunch breaks in heat and humidity don't lend themselves to much outdoor play (but we do have a great four square court taped on the classroom floor, as well as table tennis and badminton options).So, I thought we should suck it up and put our walking shoes on for a little adventure. 

I find that I wonder aloud at least once each day why I bother to shower at all anymore.  A combination of sweat, dust and dirt creates an attractive perma-grime slime on my skin that reappears within minutes of stepping out of the shower.  By noon on any given day I have perspired more than I do in an entire summer in Vermont, so I have vowed to embrace the slime and enjoy the experience.  A two mile walk into the Ancient City at a snail's pace under the scorching sun was just what the doctor ordered.

John had gamely agreed to join me for the afternoon's adventure, so together we set off with seven kids on a quest to learn more about the Ancient City of Hoi An.  Winding our way past the market and along city streets, I felt like the mother duck in "Make Way for Ducklings" (only I had to play the traffic cop as well as the lead duck role).  In a cruel variation on the story, every few minutes or so we had to spatula up one of the ducklings who had dropped from heat exhaustion and cajole him/her into continuing.  We repeatedly reassured the gawkers that we were not, in fact, the parents of all of these children.  And, miraculously, we somehow made it to the Ancient City without a single tear being shed (not even by me).

Our adventure began at the Japanese Bridge, an iconic Hoi An landmark, that used to connect the Japanese side of the city to the Chinese side.

                   

 

Next it was on to the Tan Ky House, one of the city's oldest houses.  I didn't hold out much hope for this one being a firecracker stop for the kids, but the fact that we got to sit down in the living room in front of a fan while a tour guide gave us some information about our surroundings was pretty exciting.  I wracked my brain to come up with questions for the guide to extend  the amount of time we were entitled to sit in this shady house.  John asked a question about the water marks in the house from last year's typhoon, and our guide politely repeated the entire last page of her monologue (word for word).  There would be no further questions (or at least no further answers).  We all got a kick out of determining our Chinese astrological signs and their respective meanings before heading back out into the heat.

 

                

We headed to the Handicraft Center to see some of Hoi An's famous silk lanterns and enjoy a cultural show with traditional Vietnamese singers, dancers and musicians.  The best part was the headless statue and the photo opportunities it allowed, but the lanterns and music were nice too.

 

        

After a quick ice cream break, we headed for our final stop, the Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation, an impressive temple hidden behind the ancient buildings. The incense burned strong, and the smoke attached itself to our grimy bodies.  The numerous fountains and ponds filled with fish were the hit of the day.

          

With a sigh of relief, we tumbled into an air conditioned taxi for the ride back to "school."  We made it through the afternoon without anyone "chuckin' a barney" or "throwing a wobbly" - two useful additions to my parenting vocabulary courtesy of Australia and the UK that sound so much more interesting than the classic, "throwing a tantrum."  If I don't succeed in learning Vietnamese this year, at least I'll broaden my English language skills.  I'm actually looking forward to the next tantrum someone in my family throws just so I can accuse them of "chuckin' a barney."