One-hour Vietnamese cultural immersion

Yesterday I taught another 8-hour corporate course. Most (but, oddly, not all) of the students are non-native English speakers. While the classes are all multicultural, this client has a high number of Vietnamese employees that sign up for my classes. This group of 20 students consisted of about 8-10 Vietnamese, most of whom hadn't ever met each other before this class. I found what happened at lunch to be quite interesting.

We take a one-hour lunch, and I don't usually go anywhere during that time. It gives me a short break to decompress from the previous four hours of straight teaching to build up for the next four. I'd brought a sandwich from home (thanks to Terry's left-over Easter ham). I could see the Vietnamese group in the back of the room making their lunch plans. Just as I'd taken the first bite of my sandwich, they invited me to join them. This is outside of my comfort zone for a couple of different reasons, the main one actually being that I need to make sure I return from lunch on time. It seemed that it would have been rude to decline, however, so I put my sandwich back in it's bag and grabbed my coat.

Let me backtrack a bit. I have the best assistant in the world for my corporate classes. She is a first-generation American of Filipino descent, and she is awesome. When she is with me, I don't need to worry about anything running correctly. If I'm showing a video the lights magically go off, if I need a handout, it magically appears, even if I hadn't expected to need it or made copies for it. She knows my needs before I do, which I value greatly. Let me say, these 8-hours courses are tough! It is a long, strenuous day of constant focus. My assistant has my back in any possible situation during these days. She'll even watch my water intake and make sure I stay hydrated! Because of this, she has my complete trust. At lunch, she tends to disappear, though. It isn't a problem, since I don't tend to need her for anything (professionally). Except, for instance, that if she had discovered a sandwich in my bag, she'll go find a refrigerator for it somewhere and forget to give it back to me before disappearing. (She didn't do that yesterday, but she has in the past.) Yesterday morning she took my car to pick up the coffee after the class had started, and I wasn't sure where my keys ended up. At the point of leaving for lunch, she was gone, having disappeared into thin air, and I was without keys to drive myself to wherever we were going. I'd be at the mercy of lax Vietnamese.

As we left the building, the growing Vietnamese group was tossing around their orders, in Vietnamese, to one lady on a phone. They asked what I liked, but of course, I had no idea. "I like anything," was my honest answer. "Get her the BEST thing," came out of another lady's mouth.

I'd already told them I had lost my assistant, who had my keys, so I wouldn't be able to drive. The quick carpooling conversations began - in Vietnamese. We walked to one car, and the driver began taking two small car seats out of the back. Then they stopped and shut the doors. I was told that we'd go in the other lady's car because her car seats were easier to remove. I regretted not having my keys. I wouldn't need to remove any car seats, and everyone would have fit!

Off we went to the restaurant, about 15 minutes from the building the classroom was in. We got there and met up with the other carload or two of Vietnamese from the class. The restaurant was medium-sized. It probably could hold about 50 people, and there were already about 6 people not from the class seated that the people from the class seemed to know. (One of whom was actually another student who had taken the class in the past, but was not enrolled today.) They motioned for anyone they knew to join us, and our table grew. And grew. And seemed to grow again.

What struck me, though, was the flexibility and friendliness of everyone. Even the restaurant workers didn't care that they were continually rearranging the place, mixing people who just showed up with people who had ordered already and kept moving around on them.

The food began arriving, in bits. Unfortunately, my food was among the first to show up. The people around me kept saying "Begin, begin, please!" Sure, but I don't know HOW to begin. I was served a noodle soup with shrimp and pork, chop sticks, and a spoon-like apparatus. I'd had Pho before, though I was told that this wasn't Pho, but at least I knew the concept. Still, I desired someone else's food to show up so I would not make a fool of myself in some unknown way. Luckily, the exact same dish came for the lady across from me. She dug in, and I followed suit. And yes, I can handle chopsticks. Perhaps a but clumsily, but I can do it. I turned down multiple offers of asking the waitstaff for a fork for me.

I was glad I hadn't been served the chicken dish that showed up for many others. I do not know how to eat chicken, still on the bone, swimming in broth, with chopsticks. I watched the etiquette of it, just in case I ever find myself needing to separate chicken from bone inside my mouth in front of strangers in the future.

The conversations around me were a constant switch between Vietnamese and English. I'm certain that if I hadn't been there, it would have been all Vietnamese. Most of the conversations were work or education related as people made quick friends with one another. Either what division, or department, or group someone was in, or where they graduated from, and when. Sometimes the conversation went to where someone was from in Vietnam, but mostly it stayed with current, professional topics. Based on the dates, the group was mostly right around my age.

I knew I had no cash with me, and when the bill came a a combined check, I was glad when the man to my side pulled out a credit card and handed it to the lady who was handed the bill. I can follow suit on that as well. As I reached for my purse, I was told by multiple people around me that it was their treat, and I was the special guest. I was relieved, mostly for the awkwardness of not having cash with me. Plus, I had no idea how much my dish cost if I had had cash.

Somehow, even small groups of American have difficulty splitting up combined bills. This group, however, somehow pulled this off with absolute finesse. Money was passed from one end of our long table to the other. It seemed like, with a look, another $5 would be pulled out from somewhere. Then a twenty dollar bill shows up, and a ten dollar bill goes back the other direction. But the lady handling the money didn't even know who had sent the $20, at least not from what I could tell. Nobody seemed to care if they paid more that their share, or less, or about tip calculation. In a matter of just a few short minutes, the bill was paid.

Now, I have to admit, I was watching the time closely. I HATE being late to a class. We were down to 15 minutes to return, but I kept my mouth shut. Finally one of the ladies I rode with said that they needed to go to take Teacher back, and they began their good-byes. I keep thinking that much of this table is obviously also in the class. Yet, that did not seem to concern anyone else there. I kept my mouth shut again, and graciously thanked them all for lunch, and for the experience.

We arrived back a few minutes late, and I began teaching immediately, knowing that the rest of them would show up sometime. My assistant had given them a handout, a page copied from the textbook. She said she noticed a lot of people were taking notes on that page, and she wanted to blow up the diagram on that page for them. Good idea, I thought. She'd been off at the copy machine when I lost her at the beginning of lunch. I don't even know where this copy machine is that she keeps finding.

The day was fun (though extremely tiring). The surveys for the class came back with high marks, and I felt a new sort of connection with the people who take my classes. Especially though, I have a new regard for the friendliness and relaxed nature of the Vietnamese, both in their interaction with "outsiders" and with strangers from their own culture. I have a great job!