From Jordan to Vietnam

The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster of contradictions. Excitement and dread. Relief and regret. Sheer ambivalence at every turn. The three foundational needs for re-establishing my life include: my job, where I will live and who I will spend time with. In each of these, I have had extreme highs and lows since I arrived in Vietnam.

Let’s start with my job. Well, this is the driving force that brought me literally to the other side of the world. I have taught in various capacities on and off for several years. After completing my Master’s degree in International Education and teaching elementary school language arts in Jordan for the last two years, I know I have found the best career for myself. I left Amman feeling confident in my abilities and eager to grow as an educator. Arriving in Vietnam, I feel as if I am a first year teacher all over again. And in fact I almost was when my position was changed last minute from ESOL to Grade 3 classroom. Gulp. Be with the kids all day? Plan for all content areas? I’ve always flirted with the idea of making this switch, but when it was thrust at my unexpectedly, I hadn’t had time to mentally prepare and was freaking out internally. As is my way, I jumped right in setting up the classroom, meeting with the other third grade teachers, and planning as much as I could. But I still felt like I was spinning wheels.


This is also when my housing anxiety kicked in. The school financed my stay in a very clean yet windowless hotel room downtown for just one week. The whole lot of new teachers was scrambling to find accommodations at the same time and it seemed I was one step behind. Half of them decided on one building walking distance to the school but further from Western familiarities, and the other half chose a highrise complex in a leafy suburb about 20 minutes by motorbike from school. I wavered on both locations because my mind was still stuck on my charming, spacious apartment in Jordan for half the price. These were box-like with tacky and/or low quality furniture. The bathrooms in most were blah and I couldn’t imagine snuggling up to watch a movie on any of the couches. So I went online and found some listings I liked in a building in the same district as my school. I fell in love with the apartment as soon as I walked in the door. Simple and high quality furniture, neutral tones, two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and high up with an amazing view. After losing out on other apartments, I jumped on this one. No one was going to beat me to it!

I handed over millions of Vietnamese Dong and moved in the next day. As soon as I signed the lease and the landlady and real estate agent left, the tears poured out. What had I just done? I was all alone in middle of District 5. Yes, it was in the same district as my school, but still a ten minute ride on the back of a motorbike. Certainly not walkable. And I learned very quickly that I was the only expat in the twenty block radius of Chinatown. I have absolutely nothing against Chinese people—and actually one of the reasons I felt at ease signing this lease was because the landlady was so unbelievably nice—but the isolation was intense. I had to haggle hard with motorbike taxis and then get jostled around in dense traffic for twenty minutes anytime I wanted to go somewhere expat-friendly, and when I wanted to come back, no one knew where it was. The route quickly became familiar, but I soon began dreading it. Inside the apartment, I loved the peacefulness, amazing view and super-comfortable bed, but as soon as I stepped outside, the chaos swept over me.