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| From left: Dr. Quang (my boss and the project head), Yen (a program coordinator in Dr. Quang's office), Matthias (a German college student interning on the project), and me (demonstrating the doctor face that took years of medical school to perfect). |
A memorable episode during the training was watching the group using a height measurement device (essentially a tape measure).
The group was clearly struggling with it, and I came up with this Romantic explanation in my head of the rural Vietnamese physicians that could probably rebuild their motorbike ambulances with their eyes closed, but haven't come across much Western medical equipment. I couldn't have been more wrong, the tape measure was just really hard to use! Come on, Myles. This isn't 1950, and this wasn't some East/West thing, it was just a classic case of "How many doctors does it take to figure out a tape measure?" Several, as it turns out, in any country.
By the way, if you replace "Tape measure" with "Fundamental governing structure" in that story, you have the plot of The Quiet American. Which, by the way, is a great read for anybody who wants to work overseas but not start a decades long war in the process.
The training that day was in a conference room on the other side of Da Nang, so I wandered around afterwards to check it out and find a taxi home. It was a big, busy part of the city, and as I turned a corner, I saw a crowd of people gathered in the middle of a major street. They seemed to be circling around a man laying on the ground, and I feared the worst.
For a country that is infamous for millions of motorbikes zipping chaotically through the streets, I hadn't ever seen a collision. But it was clear that I was observing the aftermath of one that day. I debated whether my presence would be more of a help or harm. What he really needed was a hospital, and I would definitely be a distraction. But when I saw his feet move, I decided to at least try to help. By the time I reached the group, he was starting to stir and moan. I introduced myself as a doctor (again, thank you Rosetta Stone), and made sure that there weren't any acutely life threatening injuries. I'll spare you the nitty gritty, but he appeared to have received a pretty major concussion (his helmet probably saved his life), and almost certainly had a broken leg. But all things considered, he was in better shape than I expected. An ambulance arrived a minute or two later, and I slipped off as soon as they loaded him up.
The rest of the week was far less eventful. Work during the day, quick trips to the beach in the evening. Our neighborhood shore is Cua Dai beach, An Bang's less famous, less busy, but equally beautiful neighbor. It's an easy bike ride from our house, so it's perfect for quick dips after work. There's a restaurant there that we camp out at every time, and Mimi became fast friends with the owners' son.
When we choose which restaurant to go to each night, we definitely factor in the likelihood of someone holding Mimi so that we can both eat. That one wins every time.
We usually talk about baby stuff with that family, since our kids are so close in age. It's always fun to explore the similarities and differences of childrearing in our two countries. The biggest difference that we've come across is diaper use. It Viet Nam, it's not uncommon to have babies potty trained by the time they're Mimi's age. In fact, the woman who runs the restaurant sounded a little embarrassed that her 12 month old son still occasionally wets his pants. And, no, I have no idea how they do that. We will not be discussing miracle potty training secrets in this blog. I'm just happy when I remember to put a diaper on Mimi every night (we'll probably just sail right past that story).
The only problem with evening beach runs (literally, the only problem) is that our little swimmer rarely makes it all the way home.
And in case you're wondering what a sleeping baby looks like on a bike, wonder no more.
I know. Too much.
We capped off the week with a little frog hunting.
As I was getting ready to give Mimi a bath on Friday, I saw a dark streak fly across the bathroom. My first thought was that the flying bug from Sue's house found out where we lived. But alas, it was just a frog. It was a big-ass frog, though! Mid leap, its wingspan was at least 8 inches, and it was just about always mid-leap. It ping-ponged across our bathroom for a good thirty minutes before I could chase it out the window. With the glass wall and the wet floor, it's a small miracle that I didn't kill myself in the process. Needless to say, Mimi did not get a bath that night.
