Well, I don't have much to report of the last few days. I was writing a paper for a while, got sick and spent a day in bed, and generally have slept a lot. Excepting the getting sick, all of these things are good. I now have one small assignment and a large paper to conquer in the next week before I leave. AHHHHHHH! Who knew that four months would go by so fast?
I was going to spend this weekend in Singapore, and I got all the way to the airport to find out that because my passport expires in February, it does not last for the full six months Singapore requires. Unfortunately, that meant that Singapore was out of the question. I dejectedly refunded my ticket and rode a taxi back to the school. I am now comfortably snuggled in at a homey cafe full of delicious taco salad. All in all, it could have been worse. This just means that I have even more of a reason to come back to Southeast Asia so that I can see Singapore and some of the other nations around here.
The real story of today is the taxi ride to the airport.
WARNING: If you are my mother, you don't want to read this.
Danielle and I got in the taxi and had a hard time communicating airport, but eventually got it across and we took off. Within minutes, we hit a car, leaving visible damage, but continued on. I must have seen my life flash before my eyes about 13 times throughout the ride. I kept hearing the chug of the car indicating that the driver needed to downshift, but he didn't. When dad was teaching me to drive a standard, I remember struggling for a while, but we didn't leave the neighborhood while I was struggling that much. This guy was on major highways. It was as if he not only didn't know how to operate a standard vehicle, but also lacked the necessary knowledge to operate a car in general. I just about kissed the ground by the time we got out.
The only redeeming thing about the ride was the fact that this guy was driving at around 15 mph the whole way to the airport making a 45 minute ride last for about an an hour and fifteen minutes. Generally, this would have been really awful, and it pretty much was, but it made me hearken back to a childhood memory of mine. Erich, Dad and I were in Pensacola, and I was a wee youngin. We were leaving a museum where Daddy's name was on a plaque and heading to his friend's office, which I understood to be on base. We had spent a long time in the car driving to Pensacola, so I wanted to know how long it would take to get to his friend's office. He responded with something bogus like 8 or 12 hours. Perplexed, I asked why it would take that long if we were already on base. His response: "Because we are going to go this fast." We were moving, but our antiquated honda didn't even register any speed on the speedometer. A we crawled through the parking lot, I laughed and laughed at how silly my dad was! I believe we did eventually make it to our destination, but it was the getting there that I remember.
Also, NEWSFLASH: It's cold in Hanoi today.
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