Wanders with Chickens (Mai Chau)

I really am out of practice. The photos from Mai Chau have been up on my fotolog for a while, but I'm still struggling with the write-up to go along with them.

A chip off the ol' writer's block?

Don't get me wrong -- Mai Chau was fascinating and very enjoyable. I'm just finding it hard to find the words to describe our time there.

First of all, it was a welcome change from Hanoi (not that Hanoi was all that bad). We liked being away from the bustle of the city and the loudspeakers just outside the window to our room that blare loudly at 7 in the morning, extolling the locals, complete with a suitably patriotic soundtrack in the background, to be up and productive (most Vietnamese are up by 6, so street noise begins to build up at about the same time as the loudspeakers). Plus, we were starting to feel drained by the traffic that, while easier to negotiate than we had expected, threatens always to overwhelm. And after eleven days, I was about ready to flip the bird at the next idiot using his/ her horn.

Mai Chau was great for how it's silent everywhere after sunset. Even during the day, all we'd hear is livestock and the occasional motorcycle.

The Lonely Planet guidebook we brought along was right: there was absolutely nothing to do apart from wandering about the padi fields and enjoying the change in weather (by that weekend, we were 7 days into the cold snap that had hit Hanoi starting from the day we left for Ha Long Bay -- write-up here -- and I was starting to wonder if I would ever have feeling in my toes again). Mai Chau is located in a valley, so the principles of inversion came into play completely. The mornings were as brisk as those we had in the city, but the afternoons were gloriously sun-drenched and trekking the hills around the villages helped us work up a healthy sweat.

Speaking of inversion, Mai Chau's a Geography teacher's wet dream come true. Schools looking to cover topics in Physical Geog should consider Mai Chau to send their kids on an overseas field trip to.

I'd volunteer to go along to babysit if I get to go back there.

We saw our fair share of chickens, yes; probably enough to make the father-in-law fret even more than he did in light of the avian flu epidemic, but give us a little credit, it wasn't as if we were frolicking among them. Please. We stayed away from the pens and those wandering about were wary enough of us to scoot whenever we were near. There were also several species of cattle in the area as well; possibly more varieties of bovines that we'd seen anywhere else. We learnt to stay away from the male buffaloes; they were a bit more aggressive than the average cud-chewers, especially if we wander between them and their offspring. I had one approach me in a threatening manner, nostrils flaring and eyes fixed on the tender parts of my body.

Nobody messes with a half-ton beast, especially one with eyes on my 'nads, so a strategic retreat was in order.

To help us pass the time, the guide took us on a 16-kilometre trek through some of the more majestic vistas of the area. That was something, though not a trek I'd want to do in the summer,

For the most part, we were left to our own devices.

What made Mai Chau great for me, apart from the great scenery and general tranquility, was seeing how happy and care-free the kids were in the villages we'd visited. Children in Vietnam have to attend school until Form 6 (at least -- which accounts for their remarkable literacy rate of 88%), and children in Mai Chau aren't exceptions. Most villages don't have schools, so most children, even those as young as 5, would have to walk up to 3 kilometres every day to get to their lessons.

No buses, taxis or trains.

And certainly no parents to drop them off right at the school's car porch in their overpriced continental cars. And people wonder what's going on in the SAF that NSmen are dropping like flies after a bit of exercise. Children, I'm told, come back from school by about lunch, finish their noon meal and then spend the rest of the day doing chores or, if they are older, working in the fields. One kid I met was packing an ancient-looking muzzle-loaded rifle that was one-quarter again his height. He and his two younger friends, both armed with slingshots, were hunting birds for dinner. Wow. That chore I would have done for free.

His age? 10.

There's something to that old adage about sweat and toil and character-building after all.

Note to self: Find a rural place to raise children with simple desires in life and where they won't learn to be brats. Check.

One final thing that must be mentioned: my boots had picked up a rather, ahem, garang layer of dust -- the sort you'd expect to see on the boots of NatGeo photographers following the mujahideen across the desert or something -- from the trekking we had done. I had refused to have them cleaned by the many shoeshine boys in Hanoi and they were still dusty in Bangkok where we had a two-day layover. But, for some unfathomable reason, when I took them out of the plastic bag when we got back home, they were clean. Spotless. Not a single speck of dirt.

Needless to say, it ranked quite high on the Pissed Factor.

Hmm.

OK.

I guess I'm done with the Mai Chau write-up.

Woohoo.


P.S.: This is a picture of Lien (in the back) and her siblings. We stopped at her family's longhouse for lunch during the trek. I'll be sending them this and the other photographs I took of them.

Soon, I hope.

P.P.S.: This morning, the P where I'm subbing has asked me for a third time if I missed teaching enough to become a permanent member of the teaching staff at her college.

Hmm.

I think, for now, I'll just stick to providing the photography for their recruitment drive and college yearbook. Still too much residue from the last 5 years.