Once again this morning we had the 6.25am bus out to Vinh Bao for Saturday morning classes. Classes start around 8am but Vinh Bao is a solid hour and a bit drive away so off we trek bright and early. Well, not so bright, but definitely early.
I only teach two classes on a Saturday morning while the other 4 teacher have 4 classes each. This means that I teach my two lessons and then have about an hour and a half to wait before everyone else finishes and we can all go home. Because we’re so far out, the bus only does the one trip each way. While this is not my ideal Saturday morning, it does mean that I get to see some things that not many other people have had a chance to see.
Last time we came out and I had to wait around, the bus driver and my TA took me to a really famous pagoda (I need to find out the proper name and will update).
It’s also the perfect place to get pictures of the iconic scenes of people working in the fields with the conical Vietnamese hats on. Last time we came out I tried to get a pic of two women in a field with their hats on but they insisted on taking them off to pose for the pic!
This morning I spotted a couple of people down the road from the school so I took a wander and got a few more photos.
It is so incredibly green once you get out of town! And I also snapped this lady who was selling treats to the kids as they came out of class.
With less than two weeks to go before I jump on my one way flight to Hanoi to go and teach English in Hai Phong, I still have a lot to do here at home. I’ve been in my (very) little flat for over 5 years now and have managed to accumulate an unbelievable amount of stuff. I would never have said I was a hoarder but after the last few weeks of clearing, chucking and consolidating stuff, I’m on the verge of being appalled.
I’ve got life insurance policy documents for a policy that I cancelled over three years ago. Clothes that haven’t fit me since my glory days of university, over ten years ago, which means I have not only been hoarding them in this flat, but have managed to hang onto them through a trip to the UK, living in Durban, in two different houses and moving back to Joburg back into my parents’ place, and now here. That’s some next level attachment.
One of the problems is that the flat is so small that if you’re not getting stuff out the door it’s only making more of a mess. I need to get to that critical mass point where enough stuff has gone in the bin, been donated or been transported that I can actually see the woods for the trees. Or in this case, the floor for the clothes.
I’m hoping that once the chaos subsides a bit (I also have three loads of washing cycling through various stages of getting clean and dry floating around the place) that it’ll feel more cathartic than disaster.