Putting the shoes to the test

Today was the day to put myself and the faux-pas fashion shoes to a test.  I screwed up my courage, strapped on a helmet (likely infested with lice), and sped off like a granny-in-snow to Danang.  Yes, I rented a motorbike and piloted it myself to the big city this morning.

Naturally it started with the complication of having to buy gas at the gas station which is on the "wrong" side of the street.  From there, though, it was smooth sailing.  I chugged along at 40 kmph (about 25 mph) on the beach road, checking my mirrors, testing my horn, absent-mindedly leaving on my blinkers, and contemplating the speed at which the pavement was passing underneath me.  It was hot and sunny, and I was covered from head to foot in raincoat, jeans and closed-toe shoes.  I am leaving nothing to chance in this motor biking game.

To refresh your memory, this is the occasion for which I am supposed to "dress nice."  I arrived at the swanky hotel in Danang where I would be meeting my new English students, various local dignitaries and the representative from the US Consulate in Ho Chi Minh City.  I took one look at the ramp down into the parking garage and turned the bike off.  I took off my helmet and gave the garage attendant a helpless smile (international code for "if you value all of those other bikes down there in the abyss, please drive mine down there and park it for me).  He took the bike away, and I walked into the hotel lobby, dripping sweat, in search of a restroom to make a quick clothing change.  Naturally a sweet, well-dressed woman greeted me right at the door and directed me to the eighth floor for the ceremony.  With my cover blown, I explained that I needed to make a quick change, and she pointed me to the restroom.

With the speed and grace of Clark Kent in a telephone booth (and with a comparable amount of space), I slithered into my respectable dress and rubber shoes in less than three minutes and emerged a new woman (with all of her biking clothes bulging out of her backpack - a nice, feminine touch).  I scooted upstairs a full ten minutes before the ceremony was to begin and had a minute to just take a breath, look around and congratulate myself on surviving the drive.

           

The ceremony itself was short and sweet. I got a chance to see all of the students who will be in my class.  They were each presented with a congratulatory certificate for having been chosen for this program.  There were lots of thank yous in both English and Vietnamese.  There were flowers and refreshments, small talk and photos.  And then it was over as quickly as it had begun, and I had a realization.  I was free!

John was back in Hoi An teaching for me.  I was alone in Danang with a motorbike.  I did to the motorbike what you would do to any annoying friend - ditched it.  When I waltzed out of the hotel (back in my biking clothes), the garage attendant was quick to jump up to go find my bike, but I waved him off with what I hope was a "be back later for that hideous beast" wave, and I set out on my own two feet.  I noticed how slowly the pavement passed beneath me, and I liked it.  I pulled up in front of "The Bread of Life" restaurant, and no one had to help me up the curb. 

In the Bread of Life, I found a new reason to like Danang - a restaurant that employs the deaf, funds community programs that support the deaf, bakes cinnamon swirl bread and makes a mean mocha to boot.  I will definitely be back - even if it means riding my annoying friend in traffic.  It was that good.

I'm not sure Wonder Woman in rubber shoes is ready to take on the world quite yet, but tackling my motorbike fear and jumping into a new job all on the same day felt like a step in the right direction (a step "grounded" in a full inch and a half of solid rubber).