The First Day of School...

...was canceled.  And really we should have known.  Our welcome back to school e-mail from our principal included a cryptic line about us maybe, possibly, hopefully having computers at inservice and how we would have to carve out some time to go over our new floor plan. When we arrived at school (a week before we were slated to begin), it looked like we were driving into a construction site.  This is because we were, in fact, driving into a construction site.  Our soccer field had been ripped up, the elementary school (which was supposed to be done over the summer) was/is still missing walls and a roof.  Our own building - which was actually looking pretty good by the end of last year - was completely re-done.  The rationale - they're building for five years worth of growth.  This is ironic because our school is built on a marsh and will sink in ten.  (Or, if it somehow defies our expectations, and history's many examples of why you should not build on marsh, projected sea level rise sinks it in 20.) 

Other construction/planning related highlights that came up during our first few days of orientation: our black box theatre, which was supposed to open last October (and every subsequent month after), is still not ready due to a 400,000 dollar miscommunication about lighting; the flooring on the gym is not here because it was ordered special from Hungary (obviously you can't get floor here); and the laptops for teachers, which were promised at last years orientation but unavailable because they were in customs are, unfortuntely, still in "customs."  At least we have coffee machines.  These only break once a day so we're good.    

Front of our elementary school and our lovely soccer field

Orientation proceeded despite the rebuilding taking place around and on top of us, and optimism about finishing held out for three days.  Finally, through, they had to admit defeat. Funnily enough, it was not the obvious construction that caused the delay.  Rather the basement/cafeteria - which we had been walking through daily to enter and exit the school - was deemed a health hazard due to dust and overpowering paint fumes.  We, of course, have still been coming to school to finish up our planning.   We're slated to start this Monday, and while we can't see how it could possibly be done in time it is Vietnam and this does seem to be how it goes here.   And speaking of how it goes here our internet has been a little slow because a typhoon cut the cable that connects us to the US.  This happens with some regularity, but it's usually blamed on sharks (ligitimate), pirates (ligitimate), and the Chinese (racist). 

New Apartment(!)

After a day of unstructured time in Vietnam, we realized we have NO idea what to do with ourselves in this city when we aren't completely overwhelmed by school.  Before leaving for Spain, we had tossed around the idea of finding a new apartment and, in the absence of better plans, decided to act on that impulse.  We e-mailed a realtor at 9 am two days after touchdown and by 2 pm we were seeing apartments.  Similar to our first experience apartment hunting we were jet-lagged, often confused, completely stunned at decorating choices and wholly occupied.  

We extended our lease for a week, assuming this would be plenty of time to find a place.  We weren't wrong, but one thing we've noticed about Vietnam is that the definition of now (as in "is this apartment available now?") is not agreed upon. For example, all of the following were available "now": an apartment so under construction that we were not able to enter further than the front hallway, two apartments that were clearly inhabited by tenants with no visible plans to leave, one we loved where "now" actually meant Aug. 12th, and the one we ultimately decided on that was available "now" as in a week later.

This was some deck construction on one of the more ready apartments. Not pictured: worker man sleeping behind me.

We had to delay our original move in by a day because the tenants still hadn't moved out (again, now is subjective), so we arrived at our apartment early and chomping at the bit.  Opening the door to our new place, we were greeted by two children around the age of ten.  They had, we learned, been there since 7.  And they were, we learned, along with their mother the ones cleaning our apartment.  Despite it being ready "now" we decided to delay moving our stuff over until the afternoon as child labor is a bit of a downer.

We considered taking pictures of the children, but decided not to exploit them further.  Instead have a picture of our cat (not) adjusting to the move.

We went back to our old place where our mover (organized by our realtor) arrived at his appointed time of "around lunchtime."  He was at least fifty, about the size of the children and, because our apartment complex seems pretty racist and/or classist, he was escorted by a guard for the entire move.  The guard spent a lot of time gesturing sternly for us to hide our iPods, random change, and any other "valuables" that he saw.  The mover was, by contrast (and in defiance of our initial expectations) incredibly competent and he had us out of the old apartment and into the new in less than an hour including a cigarette break.

More of kitty adjusting - she thinks she is completely hidden.  Ours is not a smart cat.

Though our boxes (aka suitcases, backpacks and laundry hampers) were ready, the children were not, so we bought them some guilt Popsicles and soda and killed time for another hour or so until we got the ok to move in to our place.  We finally settled in around 5, realized child labor is not efficient labor, and began recleaning - a process that would end up taking the next three full days.

The adjustment continues

And so, with a minimal amount of blood (kitty has become a gecko killer and, to our dismay, eater), lots of sweat (we have never had to work so hard cleaning in our lives. Also the AC was broken until a day ago) and only a few tears (y'all Vietnam is not Spain and that is sad), we're slowly starting to turn this place into a home. 

The pros: it is big - we have an extra bedroom (everybody visit!) and a completely empty room that we are aspirationally calling our exercise room; it's in a great neighborhood full of random shops, markets and delicious street food (that has resulted in us taking our first course of antibiotics in Vietnam); there is a balcony where we can sit in our camp chairs and feel fancy; and it's cheap (two pay checks cover our entire year's rent).

Aforementioned delicious street food: Chay, a dessert that had among other things corn, at least three different types of beans, all kinds of unidentifiable jellies, and coconut milk.  Visually appalling, but pretty tasty

The cons: we share the place with all kinds of fun (another subjective term) bugs; related to point number one, we have all ingested a lot of raid recently; and we're still not sure if our regular Indian place delivers out here.  It's a hard life but I think we'll make it.  Kitty on the other hand: