Saturday morning I was only able to sleep in a little bit, until around 7:45 AM, because my group went on a day trip to Bat Trang. Bat Trang is a small craft village about twenty minutes outside of Ha Noi that specializes in ceramics. My host sister Hà decided that she wanted to come so at around 8:00 Nan, Hà, and I all piled into a cab and set out for the bus station where we would meet our group. Our taxi driver (a man we hired who drives us to school every day) got a little lost and we were almost 20 minutes late! Everyone was waiting for us at the bus stop!
Anyway, Thay Vuong had planned for us to take public transportation because he thought it would be a really good experience for us, and it WAS! We all wore our backpacks on our chests (wary of thieves) and piled into the tiny bus, which seemed to be about 30 people beyond capacity. On our way we stood next to a little boy who must have been only five years old. Noticing that we were foreign he decided to give us a tour of the outskirts of Ha Noi passing by our windows. The only problem was, he spoke no English. This didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, however, and he babbled on in Vietnamese and occasionally looked at us for approval or understanding (of course we always nodded feigning deep understanding and interest).
When we arrived in the village we strolled through the market and looked at all of the various products for sale. There was everything from teapots to rings. From intricate Buddha’s to paint-your-own sculptures. The market wound around in a really confusing but intriguing manner. We walked in one direction and suddenly ended up back where we started without even knowing we had made any turns!
Later we went to a shop where we were allowed to make our own clay pots. We were each given a wheel and a lump of clay to play with. The women who ran the shop helped us get started with our projects pressing the clay into a cylinder and in seconds, creating a hollow interior in two simple motions. Feeling a bit cocky I squished her work back into a ball once she had left, determined to create something entirely on my own. I rolled the clay into a ball (just as she had) and placed it in the middle of the wheel, giving it a good spin. I wet my hands and prepared to mold the blob. To my surprise the instant my hand touched the clay it jumped from the wheel and, with incredible force, smacked into my leg leaving a dark gray splotch on my previously clean calf. After a few more futile tries, I finally accepted some help from the professionals. In the end I created a beautiful (albeit rather misshapen) bowl.
When I got home that afternoon I crawled right into bed covered in clay and sweat. Only a half an hour later I was awakened and told that we were going to my mother's parent's house for dinner. JOY. I was a little grumpy but tried not to show it (the last time we went to her parent's house I nearly swallowed several fish bones and the power went out). We arrived at their house and I was greeted warmly as usual. For dinner I ate and ox's tail, which was pretty… err… interesting. In case you were wondering an ox's tale is all fat! I also very narrowly escaped eating duck brains. Phew!
After dinner, my 16-year-old cousin, sister, grandfather, and I all went out for a walk. We got chocolate ice cream bars and walked to a department store. At the store we found an arcade and I played Dance Dance Revolution! We also played a shooting game and "stomp-a-'roach" - the Vietnamese equivalent of "whack-a-mole".
When we finally returned to my grandparent’s house my eyelids were heavy. Trying to be as chipper as possible I warmly thanked my extended family, yawning all the time. Finally when we arrived at home I fell asleep thinking about my amazing day in Viet Nam.
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