The Grand Tour

That old mare, she ain't what she used to be.

(Think The Simpsons, episode Krusty Get Kancelled... An old homeless
man takes Krusty's place on TV singing the above song with his pants
pulled down.).

I'm really an old man. Christine got it right on: I was sharing my
knowledge of Computer Graphics with Hung, whose firm is really
cutting-edge in Vietnam, and it was mostly news to him... while for
me, it's knowledge that I have from my old PhD days. That said, what
we discussed was simple basic foundational stuff --- the kind of stuff
that doesn't change (much) over time. But what really made me feel
ancient is my age. Hung is the lead of his firm, and he is the oldest
guy around; he is 31. That ain't very surprising given how most of
Vietnam is populated by a younger, post-war generation. But, for me,
who was used to hearing so often "You are doing this or that and you
are so young," well it sure put me in my place being the oldest fart
on the block! At least I had my nurse Christine with me to give me my
daily laxatives...

And so I've set about to prove to myself I'm still young, lifting 70kg
(140lb) bags of nails and walking from/to school every day (1 hour
each way)! But then, as I feel oh-so-young again, Christine and I go
to this training restaurant I mentioned last time, and we are back to
being colonialists again! Surrounded by young students, eating top
French cuisine in a classy outdoor garden with classical music playing
(for $10 a meal). And my image of a colonialist ain't that of a young
whipper-snapper.

And if that wasn't enough, today Christine gave her Life in the US
talk, and it reminded me of being a freshman at Stanford. Oh boy, was
my accent as pronounced as that of my students? How the heck did my
roommate Neil understand what I said (maybe he didn't...)? Sure, I
still have a strong accent, but I was amazed how often I'd let
Christine get away with using confusing terms in her talk. For
example, she said "you get a ticket if you drive too fast". My
students, like me in 1989, were totally confused... is it a movie
ticket? A theater ticket? Do I get an award for being a really fast
driver? None of them asked such a question, because another member of
the audience jumped in to clarify that "ticket" means "fine or
penalty" in this case. Well, once upon a time, I'd catch those
pitfalls myself... boy, have I forgotten so soon the evening Neil said
"I'll go hit the sack now" and I understood he was going to exercise
in his room by knocking around a punchbag? So he went in his bedroom,
closed the door, and slept, exactly as he had said, and I was
impressed how quietly he exercised.

Back to feeling old, Christine mentioned Ong Tai, the old grandpa. He
is actually a private math tutor for 18-year-olds, so his brain is
totally there. His English is not very good, but his French is
excellent. Well, mine isn't. It used to be good a long time ago, after
8 years of French classes in school (well, I skipped quite a few to
play volleyball, but I still learned a decent bit). Ong Tai has not
used his French much since before I was born, yet he is totally
fluent. See? My brain is older than Ong Tai's!

Anyway, I don't feel old in a bad way. 34 is young, I know. Still
plenty to do, lots to see. But after a relative routine (but most
pleasant) life in the US since 1989, travelling gives me a chance to
take a step back and see the big picture: some things you learn and
they stay with you, some you forget, and technology moves on without
waiting for you. That's all. It's realizations like this that our year
abroad is for, so we are definitely on the right track it seems!

Back to my work. Class is really exhausting, and the worst has yet to
come. So far, it's been mostly a matter of preparing assignments and
lectures. This week, I started answering questions as students worked
on their first assignment. Soon, they'll be working on their second
(and have questions), while I prepare the third, grade the first, and
with lectures still going on. Oh boy! They are such a good class
though, it's a pleasure putting in all the effort.

Durian-time! Durian is a very, very, stinky fruit. But it's known as a
local delicacy! Well, Christine won't touch it, but I gave it a shot
in ice cream form. Delicious indeed! Though my wife refused to come
anywhere near me until after I brushed my teeth and rinsed with
mouthwash. But there is a catch, you see. Ice cream is best because
the stench doesn't interfere with the taste. But Durian eventually
melts in your stomach. And its fumes rise. And if you burp, God help
you. You can take me out to Durian, but you can't take Durian out of
me. And so, while Durian is a favorite ice cream taste for me, I must
say I live to regret it the following few hours (unless I stuff down
some solid food afterwards).

It's late now, so I'll go join my trophy wife in bed. I'll ask the
mahout to prepare our elephant Dumbo for a visit to our coffee
plantation tomorrow. Though Christine would rather spend her time with
the other International Ladies having cookies and tea at the British
Embassy. God Bless the Queen!

Posted by Toli at March 12, 2004 01:41 PM