The definition of irony:


Wanting to go online to write a blog entry about my motorbike and how nervous I am that it will break down and leave me stranded once again (it still sort of works, but it still makes that very unfortunate pained noise like its begging me not to use it), but my Internet being broken and having to go to a cafe to write the entry.


So now I am back to cafe-land. It's not the end of the world, and I am really trying to take all of these various technological difficulties in stride.

I understand that it might be a western expectation of mine to have EVERYTHING work perfectly. My mother reminded me, during my frustration (unfairly directed towards the country of Vietnam and its "inadequacy") over my fan which is stuck in the on-position and making my room ABSOLUTELY FREEZING, that no, things in Vietnam probably do not break any more often than they do in America. The difference is that in America, we live in a "throw-away culture," where if something breaks, it's easier (and, weirdly, more economical in many cases) to get a new one than to find a mechanic to fix it.

My fan might cost $20 in the United States. How many people do you know who, upon finding their fan broken, would hire a mechanic to fix it? My guess is that a mechanic might charge upwards of $50 or $100 per hour, so it makes more sense to throw the fan away and buy a new one for another $20. As convenient as this practice is, I find this trend disgusting and wasteful, and I truly do respect other, more resourceful cultures that fix everything.

So when I sit to think about it, I really, really, REALLY want to embrace the "do every possible repair to it before declaring it finished" culture here. It is so much more environmentally sustainable, and even more respectful to the person who labored to manufacture that item. However, when stuff continues to break, it is frustrating to leave the mindset into which I was conditioned for 22 years. After so many fruitless repairs, I want so badly to sell my motorbike and buy a new one, only because nobody seems to do anything to make it any safer. I want so badly for an electrician to come to my room and to simply re-wire the Internet with a brand-new cable. I want so badly for someone to replace my fan with one that will turn on and off at will. I want all of these things, but all of these things are so expensive to obtain. Motorbikes are expensive. A completely new Internet wire is (probably?) expensive. A new fan is expensive. It is easier to continue to fix it with duct tape or a piece of string than to buy a new one.

I really do understand all of this, and I think that thus far, I have been fairly patient and accepting of the various technological difficulties that I've faced. Usually, all it takes for me to come to terms with life's newest roadblock here is to go on-line and write a scathing but witty blog entry about poor little me living all alone in the developing country. And then I accept it and (try to) move on. I really do not want to be constantly complaining about the newest technological catastrophe that has befallen me.

However, with that said, I think that my frustration increases exponentially with each new thing that is broken at the same time. Currently there are three major items (my motorbike, my Internet, and my fan). The fan, I am willing to live with (although I can't help but grimace at the amount of electricity it is wasting if it is constantly on and in use). I'll just wear lots of layers when I am in my icebox room. I made my peace with the broken drain long ago: the solution is to stay out of the bathroom for an hour or so after showering or washing dishes to allow the water level to lower on its own, and to NEVER wear socks or shoes or long pants into the bathroom. In reality, the fan and the drain are the least of my worries. However, my motorbike is my transportation and freedom. It allows me to get a massage when I'm stressed, to go out to all kinds of meals instead of cooking, to drive to the beach, to go to the supermarket, etc. Without those parts of life here, I might go insane. And my Internet is my connection to the outside world. I need it to Skype with my parents, to check my e-mail, do research for lesson planning ideas, and keep in contact with other Fulbrighters. [I have long ago weaned myself off of my dependency on 3G and wireless and am willing to live without those luxuries; however, I do feel that communication with home, even via an old-fashioned Internet wire, is an essential, not a luxury)

So, long story short (and my apologies for the long story, by the way), I am trying really, really, really hard to accept and embrace some of the frustrating aspects of technology here, but it is a difficult feat (to say the least).

In more pleasant news, today on my way back from lunch, I rode my motorbike over to Pepper's cafe to stop and say hello. Sounds easy, right? Not if there is a cow blocking the road.

To the cow's right was a big mud puddle. To the cow's left was a bunch of bushes. What is a girl on a motorbike to do? I didn't want to piss off the cow that thought it owned the road (would a cow charge a motorbike? I didn't want to find out) but I also didn't want to disturb it in its moment of peace. The solution? I waited for a Vietnamese woman to come along on her bicycle and shoo the cow away. Easy enough.