Customarily, in celebration of lunar new year, Vietnam opens its Flower Market.  It is a display of various kinds of flowers from inexpensive kinds such as marigolds, vincas, or chrysanthemums to the rarer kinds such as orchilds, hydrangeas, dahlia, etc.  Vietnam is a tropical country.  The normal, seasonal flowers we have here are considered  rare, quite expensive, might be seen as exotic there.  Besides, Vietnamese with practical minds tend to grow more fruits than flowers.  The dragon fruits are quite exotic to us but increasingly common in Vietnam.  It was not popular in earlier years because it tastes very bland although looks pretty.  People would buy them to display in Tet.  I use the word customarily, but I tempted to use the word traditionally because as long as my earliest memory allows, the flower market has been there. 

When I was six my mother took me to the market with my niece who was 3-year younger.  She stopped by a stall, which was a tough plastic sheet spreaded on the street, where it sold cheap, molded plastic dolls with unmovable limbs that stuck together, to buy a doll for my niece. She assumed that I would be wise enough to stand behind her and waited for the transaction to complete.  I was never interested in playing with dolls because they looked weird and ugly; therefore, I walked on and on until I got lost.  I cried for a long time and a fat man who owned a stall that sold sugar cane juice asked me what had happened.  I told him I was lost and asked him to help me by getting a pedicab for me.  I told him my address and I said my sister would pay the fee.  The man laughed and said: “little girl, you just have to stand here by me and your mother will come and get you.”  I did not believe him so I asked, “How do you know that my mother will come and how can she know that I am here.”  The man said simply, “I know.”  Not too long, my mother called my name out loud and with much fear on her face she came my way.  The man laughed and told my mother about me asking him to get a pedicab to bring me home.  I grew up dislike dolls and secretly disliked my niece.  I blamed her for that incident and perhaps there was a jealousy that she got my mother’s attention to the point that my mother forgot my existence, temporarily. 

That was the flower market decades ago.  Although it is still called a market, it just displays flowers, emphasizes on artistic characteristics of the flower show.  All the selling and buying take place in different locations. 

I supposed to post these photos a week ago but was distracted with different things.  Vietnamese believe that people who are born the year of the ox (or water buffalo) will have such characteristics of an ox.  An ox often will work hard on hard works.  If an ox person is born early in the morning, when an ox has to work on the field, he will be very more industrious than an ox person born in evening, when an ox will go home and be fed.  In general, they believe an ox person is gentle, industrious, but can be stubborn.  In astrology, Vietnamese have two verses about the person born in the year of ox such as:

Tuổi sửu con trâu kềnh càng

Cày chưa hết buổi lại mang cày về

Literally translated:

Born the year of ox, an ox is huge and slow

has not finished plowing but already went home.

My generation is familiar with the song “Em Bé Quê” (or peasant child) with lyrics such as

Ai bảo chăn trâu là khổ

Chăn trâu sướng lắm chứ

Ngồi mình trâu phất ngọn cờ lau và miệng hát ngêu ngao

Vui thú không quên học đâu

Nằm đầu non gió mát

Cất tiếng theo tiếng lúa đang reo

Em đánh vần thật mau

Litterally:

Who says herding water buffalo is toiling work?

Herding is quite leisurable

Riding the ox, waving the reed flag and singing.

Having fun but do not forget to learn

We lie on the hill enjoy the breeze

sing to the sound of rice field

and learn spelling really fast

You probably wonder what is going on with the waving the reed flag?  Long ago, there was a young peasant who wanted to unify Vietnam.  Everyday while herding the buffalo he gathered his friends to practice fighting.  He claimed to be King and bundled the reeds to make his flags.  He grew up to become a great King who fulfilled his dream of united Vietnam and started the Dinh dynasty.  The song composer borrowed this history to imply herding water buffalo is like a playing king.

The song carries the philosophy of Taoism which praised the life frees from material desires.  If you have enough to eat and free from worrying that is happiness.  It is true, if we have enough and how much is enough?  The life of a young peasant is often not having enough to eat.  I think the song is deceiving, though unintentionally.

Perhaps, I am similar to a buffalo herder.  The buffalo represents my work, for example, company’s projects.  I have enough to eat and if I can eliminate worries and material desires I can go up the hill behind my house, lying and singing in the breeze and call that an ultimate happiness.  My worry at this moment is if I can keep my buffalo and for how long this buffalo can be kept in this kind of market weather.

I wake up and get ready for work.  At 5 am the sky is still dark.  Last night I heard that it was going to snow.  I look out from my bedroom window.  The roof of my garage is white.  Snow texture is smooth.  It snows and is snowing still.  I change my mind, decide to call in and take today off.  It is going to snow all day and I do not want to negotiate with any hassles from the streets and parking lot and commuting.  I can’t navigate my hilly and slippery street anyway.  Happily to be snowed in I will have some fun such as do some writing and update Xanga.  The ground is so bright while darkness still envelops the house.  You have to live in an area that has snow to see what I am talking about.  Snow on the ground in darkness seems to have light in itself.  It radiates and suffuses so subtly and makes the surrounding more mystic.

I have not updated Xanga frequently.  It is not that I do not have anything to say.  To the contrary I just have too many things to talk about and too many thoughts running in my head.  I can’t decide what I want to put down in the white sheet on the screen in the little amount of time I have.  And after awhile I start to wonder if they are worthy to take up my time and your time.

First, it was Tết.  I did not cook anything extraordinary.  My love bought a whole salted chicken from Chinese supermarket and asked me to cook some sweet rice with mungbean so called cơm nếp đậu xanh.  He cooked sweet mungbean dessert or chè đậu xanh in Vietnamese.  While I went to work, he stayed home to put food we had cooked on the altar; to serve food means to worship ancestors and to celebrate Tết.  I had wanted to post some Vietnamese music and poetry to celebrate the first day of the year but I got distracted by a DVD that I borrowed from the library: “Wild China” made by BBC.  It is a very good documentary and travel program.  If you have not seen it, I recommend it.  The DVD comes in a set of two disks, take about 6 hours to watch.  I have to watch the DVD part by part.  Each time, I stop watching with reluctance.  Even deep in my heart I resent the government that has invaded Vietnam territory, I still have to mavel the beauty, mystery, and extraordinary diversity of China.  You will see birds, monkeys, rivers, mountains, Great Wall, and many wondrous things.  Things such as 18000 kinds of flowers in China’s jungle and 3000 species are not anywhere in the world.  You will see fishermen dance and chant while sending birds to hunt fish for them.  You will see some moutainous people go to the market with mules and nice white dress and children go to school daily.  The remarkable thing is that they cross from mountain to mountain by hanging on a hook that hooks onto a cable and sliding across the mountains without a basket.  Sometimes they sit on a pig that was put in a bag to be sold at market and off they, human and pig, go sliding, the way you could believe that only Wonder Woman, Zorro, or Harrison Ford in those action movies could have gone.  In this DVD you can only see landscape and the wild nature.  I guess BBC has to do another set about architectures and culture of China.  I would love to see all the temples on all the steep mountains hanging to a cliff.

I got hooked on listening to novels.  After “The Abortionist’s Daughter” I borrowed from the library “The Life of Pi” and “Water for Elephants.”  Knowing “The Life of Pi” is an award winning book, but I did not expect that the book is so philosophical about religions and way of life, packed in thorough observation about animal life.  The book has about 100 chapters and I am up to chapter 54.  It seems I cannot stop listening.  It draws me in.  At this moment Pi is drifting on a life boat with a tiger.  The narrator voice at times pondering, sometimes witty, and sometimes is wisecrack funny.  

There are a few things I want to do.  Write a book review of The Abortionist’s Daughter for a publisher in Vietnam.  I already got the book.  It now sits squarely on my table.  I bought a book about Western Civilazation, I need to supply myself some knowledge that I lacked off.  I want to read a little bit about Hinduism and Khmer civilization to prepare for my travel in August.  I already finished two books about Andy Wyeth and I had wanted to write a short piece about this famous artist on the realism paintings.  Oh yeah, I promise Da Mau magazine to translate an article about the passing of John Updike, the great writer who just passed away yesterday.  I just remember that I promise another editor an write an analytical piece about the characters in another book. 

I just plan too many things and do not know if I can get through.  And I think I get a cold because I am sneezing and my eyes water and I have a headache.

HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR!

 YEAR OF THE OX

CHÚC MỪNG NĂM MỚI – KỶ SỬU

The picture was taken when I visited Vietnam in 2005.  The group of people is a minority group whose name is Red Dzao, identified by the read turban they wear.  They live in Sapa, province Lao Cai, up North Vietnam near the border. 

About 15 minutes from where I live there is a man made lake next to a park.  Everytime it snows, people bring their children to the park to play with the snow.  There is a flock of birds staying on the lake.  Last week, I stopped by the lake to take pictures of the park, the lake, people and birds. 

Perhaps they migrate from a colder region, Canada or Alaska.  When they reach this location they decide that they can live here because it is not too cold and they can find food. 

Somehow the migrating birds always remind me of immigrants (and myself is among the immigrants).  We left behind a place and the past to seek something in the future.  Along the way we found a place to call it home.  Although we gather into a community, sometimes a very large one, at times we just seem a lonely group of outsiders.  And although we can live happily in the place we have chosen, each of us seems to long for the place we once lived.

Last weekend I went to the library and again I borrowed the DVD Winged Migration.  I already remembered by heart how the movie began.  “They fly often with thousands of miles, beset with danger, for a single reason: to survive. . .  Each migration began with a promise.  A promise to return.”

Lunar new year is coming.  This is the time many Vietnamese find an opportunity to fulfill their promise to return.  Some of us hesitate.

Last night snow fell and covered my wooden deck in the back of the house.  Snow fell through the gap and a pattern was left.  Pictures are taken when there is no sun.





Snow flowers.



I threw three strawberries on the snow just to see the vibrant color.



A log covered with snow right on my back yard.



Another snow flower.



When there is strong wind I often hear howling, whistling, or moaning.  Perhaps the sound comes from this mouth.  A deserted bird house.



I left some hay to feed the deer but they did not eat.



The spruce was planted since 2004 as small as a child hand sticking out on the snow.  It has grown this much in almost five years.

Taking the state highway toward West, turning right on the street that leads to my house, if I go straight for about ¼ mile I will be home.  But if I turn left abruptly instead of going straight I will be on a narrow, full of holes, gravel road that leads to a cul-de-sac.  Going for a short distance, about a hundred yards I will come to a bamboo grove.  I guess in the beginning the owner of the house next to the bamboo grove planted just a few bamboos but they grew faster and stronger the native vegetation.  Now they grow into a grove very thick and wildly.  They expand into the lawn and cover the trail that can be used as a short cut into another neighborhood.  No one can believe that next to the state highway there is a bamboo grove.  It maybe a pain for the house owner to try to stop the bamboo invasion, however it is a joy for me when I accidentally discover this place.

Last Sunday, when snow still covered the ground, I came to visit the grove, knowing I would see a beautiful scene.  Snow was still on bamboo leaves heavy enough to make branches bend.  In light wind they swayed gracefully.  While other trees around frozen with dead color of black,  dark brown, gray and  the ground white without sign of life, the bamboos were lush green and cheerful with fresh leaves that looked like thousands of jade pieces dangling and almost sweeping the snowy ground.  I wished I could write a poem.  Poor me, I had no creative juice in my vein.  When the sun came out, the light shone on a few drops on the bamboo leaves I could see a tiny rainbow on a drop.  A sad person may see these droplets as tear.  A happy person may see them as pearls.  I see the beauty but have no words to compare or describe.  Perhaps,

A droplet on a bamboo leaf,

thought it was born,

a better position

than the snow on the ground. 

It did not know

when the sun burn bright,

it would turn to a drop of water,

fall to the ground and

and become the same as others. 

Same holy tree very tall bush of “holly,” different occasions.

You probably know that I carry my camera everywhere and everyday.  At least almost.  Last week Friday morning, it was about to snow.  I took this picture as I sat on the train and it was ready to go.  This location is a favorite spot of these pigeons.  They sat there perhaps everyday.  I say perhaps because I do not check to see if they are there daily.  Just each time I look I see them there.  Do you ever wonder why they sit on the wire, and how they do not get electrocute?  Do they get warmer when they sit close together?  The train window is very dirty, you see.

Tuyết rơi từ hôm qua.  Suốt ngày hôm qua tôi nằm trên ghế sô pha xem DVD nói về những miền đất xa lạ mà tôi thèm được du lịch ít ra là cũng một lần trong đời.  Tôi làm một cuộc du lịch một vòng các xứ Đông Âu như Tiệp Khắc, Nam Tư, Ba Lan trong một DVD và làm một chuyến du lịch khác đến Spain và Portugal.  Tôi vốn mê những kiến trúc cổ.  Các nhà thờ và dinh thự ở Spain làm lòng tôi xốn xang muốn được viếng thăm xứ này.

Nói chuyện du hành, tôi bàn với người thân là tôi mơ ước được đi thăm Angkor Vat mùa hè năm 2009.  Và dù dự định nay vẫn còn phôi thai tôi đã mang về hằng lố sách tham khảo về Angkor Vat.  

Thức giấc từ lúc năm giờ rưỡi sáng, trời bên ngoài tối đen.  Có lẽ nhờ nghỉ ngơi suốt ngày hôm qua nên sáng nay tôi thấy người tỉnh táo muốn thức sớm để viết một vài ý nghĩ đeo đuổi tôi mấy hôm nay.  Trời tối đen nhưng mặt đất trong rừng sau nhà tôi sáng rực vì tuyết trắng phản chiếu ánh sáng từ không gian trông rất huyền ảo.  Có lẽ đêm qua trăng tròn và mặt đất phủ tuyết sáng rực nhờ  phản quang của tuyết trong đêm.  Tôi không nhìn thấy trăng có lẽ vì mây che.  Bây giờ ngồi đây sau khi đọc báo và đọc một số blog tôi thích cánh rừng đằng sau nhà đã sáng.  Mặt đất được phủ một lớp kem trắng và nhờ có lớp kem trắng này phủ lên tôi lại nhìn thấy một sợi dây leo đã đứt và nằm trên mặt đất có hình dáng của cái khóa Sol còn gọi là Treble Clef Sign.  Bởi vì nếu không có tuyết thì cành cây lẫn vào trong màu đất nâu và nếu tuyết nhiều quá thì cành cây cũng lẫn vào trong tuyết mà không còn nhìn thấy gì cả.  Không khí thật tĩnh mịch.  Tuyết đã làm che lấp nén nghẹn tất cả âm thanh.