A Word of Welcome...

On September 1, 2011 fifteen young people from a range of high schools around the U.S. arrived at Noi Ba International Airport in Ha Noi. Jet-lagged and overwhelmed, they spent the weekend getting oriented to their new home amid Independence Day revelry and celebration. Now one month later, they are members of host families, interns at various community organizations, students on a university campus and participant-observers in a foreign culture and society. Thus begins their year with School Year Abroad – Viet Nam.

This monthly blog will chronicle the students’ lives in Viet Nam outside the SYA classroom. A process of sharing and peer-editing in their English class will precede all posts thereby creating an individual and collective narrative. Travel-journalist Tom Miller said “The finest travel writing describes what's going on when nobody's looking.” May these young writers seek out and find their moments to see, with new eyes, what no one else sees. May they write their stories with sensitivity and passion. And may you, our readers, enjoy imagining their Viet Nam.

Becky Gordon
SYA English Teacher

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Foreign Battle Grounds

Abby Ripoli

"No Phuong Anh!” I scream, “Get off the counter!” The stubborn six year old ignores my cries as she cannot understand so much as her name with my pronunciation. She giggles in amusement at my stressed out face. “Khong! Khong!” With my Vietnamese failing me once again, I take a more aggressive approach. Leaping over the fort my younger host sister has built, I grab hold of her, trying to yank her off my counter. Waves of victory wash over me as I plop her on the ground, wanting to scold her for being such a distraction, but knowing she will not understand me anyway. 
My head held high with authority, I am caught off guard by a one of a kind, ear-piercing shriek emerging from the compact beast standing in front of me. My ears bleeding, I return to my makeshift desk on my bed, hoping to make peace.  Sensing my retreat, Phuong Anh declares herself the winner of our pathetic battle and climbs back up to her pedestal. My mind runs through all the possible scenarios of her falling and me being responsible. This cannot happen. She is em, and I am chi. Little sister verses big sister. Game time.
I yank her down once again, ignoring her bloody murder screams with a will-full expression. She tries to dodge around me to make it back on to her claimed position of power, but I’m too quick, too agile for her small legs to beat. As she lays on the floor throwing a fit, this battle is no longer about her safety, but who’s in charge. We eye each other down, the cuteness of the six year old disintegrates. This is war. 
Determined to outwit me, she makes a bolt for the small space underneath my desk. Speechless, I watch in amazement as the once, but no longer, cute six year old rips out electrical cords and makes a fortress, which my battle tactics cannot penetrate. Defeated and discouraged, I retreat to the sanctuary of my older host sister, Hoa Anh. I embarrassingly plead for assistance, and without fail, the true chi comes to save the day. However, with a score yet to be settled, I guarantee that there will be a rematch. 
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