Back in LA

My trip to Vietnam has come to an unfortunate but inevitable end, so this is the last post for my Namblog.  I've been in LA for a couple hours, passing out when I got back, waking up at 1 am, and am now wide awake.  My last day in Vietnam was nearly 30 hours ago, but this is the first time I've had a moment to blog about it.  I spent the earlier part of the day shopping for gifts for people back home, trying, in vain, to find a large painting or poster of Ho Chi Minh.  It actually turned out that I probably wouldn't have room to pack it anyway, so really, I'm not that bummed.  It was good to spend another day in Hanoi, a city I where spent only a week, but felt surprisingly at home in.  (No doubt fueled by the fact that I essentially had a home there, as opposed to a hotel)  I tried to get together with a friend of my friend Jonathan's, Quynh, but it didn't work out.  I really feel that two weeks was not enough time at all to see Vietnam, and could have used at least one or two more.  When I went to Spain, two weeks seemed adequate enough to get the know the place, as a tourist at least anyway.  But Vietnam just seemed to have infinite more possibilities.  Spain, unlike Vietnam, was rich in tourist attractions, but I never felt welcome there at all.  The only people I ever talked to were tourists or expats.  Vietnam has little in the way of great historical buildings, and practically nothing in the way of museums.  No Eiffel Tower, no Big Ben (not unless of course you count ol' Ben August), no Empire State building, No Taj Mahal, no Hollywood sign (OK, fine, LA doesn't have any interesting tourist sites either, you happy?) But what it did have was an atmosphere that was just incredible.  The people there were really cool, and I seemed to meet local left and right.  On top of all this, being that things in Vietnam are so cheap,  I could easily see myself staying there for at least two months even.

Later, on my last night, we hung out with a friend of Ben's and went out for Lau, hot-pot, this one served with seafood.  As a food it's good, but not my favorite.  It is, however, the social part of it that is it's main appeal; a bunch of people sitting around a giant pot filled with broth on a portable gas stove, with uncooked sea food and vegetables served on plates.  You put whatever you want to eat in the broth, cook it, then eat.  After a while, the broth becomes the best part of the meal, tasting like a flavor-rich Miso soup.  Ben's friend was an old hippy, I forgot her name already, but she was really fun and I had a great time talking and downing Bia Ha Noi's the better of the two local beers.  As is usual in Vietnam, the place tried ripping us off by adding stuff to the bill we didn't order.  Luckily, Huyen was able to figure it out, and we got the bill down to 400,00 Dong, down from 500,000, which still seemed too steep.  Seriously, any tourist can save a fortune in Vietnam if they are able to have a local go with them to any store or restaurant, especially if that person is Huyen, who is just oh-so-willing call out anybody's bullshit, and seemed to lay down the law if anyone tried anything.  (Hope you know what you're getting yourself into there, Ben)  We drove Ben's friend back to her hotel, and then we ended up going to a bar called Dragonfly with the Polish roommates.  It was a pretty cool place, catering to tourists and expats, but also had a bunch of Vietnamese there too.  It had this Middle Eastern theme, with hookah pipes and a no-shoe policy.

Next morning, I got up, and took a taxi to the bus station, to catch a bus to the airport.  Traffic was ridiculous, with the one-mile cab ride taking nearly 45 minutes, a half hour of which spent on a road of no more than 300 yards.  I at one point contemplated walking there after sitting in stopped traffic for twenty minutes, but realized that every walkable inch of sidewalk was covered with motorbike traffic, and since I had luggage, there would be no way to even get through on foot.  It was a good thing too, because I thought I knew the way, but when we finally were able to get out of that street, I realized I would have been horribly lost if I had chose to hoof it on my own.  The bus to the airport, and the flight home were both good, no problems.

So yeah, it's done now.  It feels really strange being back, more so than usual when I come back from a trip.  I really, REALLY liked Vietnam, and saw why it's such an appealing place to live for so many ex-pats.  The grass of course is always greener, and  there are things there that can drive you crazy.  The traffic is not only fierce, but just plain deadly, with every Vietnamese I talked to telling me that they were in at least one major accident in their life.  Phi said that she used to play basketball in high school until she broke her leg in a scooter accident; Hien told me she was laid-out unconscious on the highway for five minutes after running into a cow; she was alone, and avoided what should have been certain death-by-speeding-honking-mack-truck by some downright miracle.  The air quality in Hanoi is by far the dirtiest I've ever been in, and I live in LA.  Every breath you take when you are on the street is literally like taking a drag of a cigarette, without the fun.  And let's not forget the endless stream of annoying peddling by motorbike taxis, shops, food stands, etc., not to mention all the times such places will try to cheat if you decide to give them your business.

No place is paradise, and I'm sure if I decided to live there, a whole slew of things would come up that would just drive me nuts.  But the fact is, what I saw there was style of living that on the whole seemed to relaxed and appealing.  People there are extraordinarily generous and kind-hearted. (I've heard stories of Westerners taking advantage of Vietnamese hospitality and mooching off of random people for months)  Communities there are strong, and haven't been ravaged yet by consumerism and the inevitable narcissism and alienation that seems inflict people wherever Capitalism goes.  Stark competitiveness doesn't strain every relation ship, and the stress and pressure found in the American workplace doesn't grind people down day after day.  Of course, I was only there for two weeks; what I saw there first hand was limited; much of what I have come to know about Vietnam has been from expats.  But it still has opened my eyes to other ways of life that might not be so bad.  I really think one thing that I came away with from the whole experience is what I now consider to be viable options in my life.  Moving to another city in America seems to be pointless for me, and I never really considered life in another country, or one where English isn't the main language at least.  I don't really have that anymore.  The language barrier in Vietnam is huge, but that doesn't stop so many people form moving there.  I'm not willing to write-off LA and leave just yet, but if the work situation continues to be what it is, and nothing here continues to keep me here, I do think I will be seriously considering a major move.  A thought for now, but I went to Vietnam on very short notice, with half the trip being completely on my own.  It seems fortune favors the brave, and while I don't consider what I did to be all that daring (my little two weeks were put to downright shame by the Austrian guy I met doing a ten month trip around the world by himself) I found that opportunities can arise when you put yourself out there.  If anything, I really am looking to travel again, this time looking at visiting a friend in Korea, (watch out Marley) looking to do more than just two weeks away.  This is how I feel now, so I'll see how I will act on it, but I do think I'd be extremely disappointed if I don't setup another overseas travel blog, very soon. 

So, where was I...

Oh yeah, the suit. So I was pretty happy with the suit, I think the experience of having one custom tailored was really what I was paying for. I do wish I had more time, being able to spend a whole day going to the various shops, pricing things out. They are very pushy here, even Cam tried very hard to make sure I stayed and bought something. The shopkeepers here struck me a lot like Gil from the Simpsons in a lot of ways, and if you entered their store without buying anything, they seemed to take it as a grave failure on their part. I'm really not sure how all the tailors here stay in business; there are by far more shops than tourists or even hotel rooms. I have a feeling that most of them go weeks without a customer; it seemed like that in Cam's case. I also found out what Cam Thach means, I guess Thach is a word for the Marble Mountain, a local mountain that's a big tourist draw.

Later that evening, I did a little bar hopping, eventually meeting a couple ex-pats at a bar that they called "The Dive," which, I figure has to do with it housing the diving school that some of them worked at. There was Josh, from Saskatchewan, who really sounded Irish, but whatever; and Alex, from Birmingham, England. With them was a guy from Sweden, Eric, who ran a local resort and Kate, who I think did the business side of the diving school/bar. I also met up with a friend of theirs, Gustav, from Germany, who told me he lived in Ojai for a while. They told me that there are about a hundred expats living in Hoi An, and that they themselves have all lived in the town for about four to five years. I hung out with them a while, going to a couple bars, settling at a tourist joint across the river. It was pretty fun, they seemed to be more the partying type than the talking type, but we got along pretty good. I lost some dart game when I first met them, making me have to buy a round of beers for four of us, and that seemed to be the last thing I paid for that night.

Yesterday, seemed to be somewhat of a wash. In the morning, I picked up my suit, walked around Hoi An, went to a beach, then got on a bus for Hue, where the airport was. The drive took about three and a half hours, even though it would probably normally be an hour drive on a highway that isn't blocked up by livestock, pedestrians, oncoming traffic and ridiculously slow moving trucks. My flight was at 9:10pm, and I got into town at 5:30. Wanting to save money, and afraid that I wouldn't have time to see the city of Hue and make my flight, I had the bus driver drop me off at the airport, which was kind of a mistake. Airports here aren't the silly mini police-states they are in America, and as long as you show up twenty minutes before a flight, you're good. Either way, I spent way to long at the airport, and I think I could have had enough time to check out a little bit of Hue. The best thing about the bus ride, however, was that it was on these crazy "sleeper" buses they have here. Instead of chairs, the bus sports a series of bunk beds, allowing it to fit a surprising number of people, all while allowing every one to have their own adjustable bed. If it wasn't for the fact that they were blaring really bad Euro-trash techno for a while, or that every thirty seconds the driver was laying on the horn he commandeered from a freight train, I would have slept like a baby.

I got into Hanoi last night. This is my last day here, I'm trying to meet up with a friend of a friend out here, who I've been e-mailing, we'll see how that goes.

Hello you buy some-sing

Need to make this quick; I'm waiting for a bus at my hotel, it can be here any minute, may have to cut this entry short,

"Hello you buy some-sing" is what you hear a lot here in Hoi An, as opposed to Saigon, where the catch phrase the kids were saying was "Hello where you go," usually from someone peddling some form of transportation. There is a hundred of everything here, so competition is fierce. If there are two vendors nearby of anything, they will practically fall over themselves trying to get your business if you show any interest in what they're selling. If you show no interest, they blurt out a string of english words enticing you to buy or just make it look like thier shop is busy. It really gets annoying here, it's way more than in any other part of Nam I've been to yet

Regardless, I actually had a great time here. the suit I had made turned out to fit really good, although the selction of fabrics that Cam had wasn't the best. It's probbaly why she was so cheap, but you come to Hoi An to get a good cheap suit, and I can probably find something OK in the States for about $150. I guess I really don't need anything too fancy, and even the better fabrics are..l. shit gottaa go

Hoi An there a minute!

I got into Hoi An this morning, staying at the Hop Yen Hotel in the northwest of town. I don't know what to think of the town yet. On the one hand, it's a small town, with less of the crazy shit in Saigon and Hanoi, but oddly I've found a lot more open hostility here than anywhere. I've met a lot of ridiculously nice people nonetheless, with a kind of sincere hospitality that you never find in America. I met Phi and Thieu on the bus from the Hue airport to the city center, and she started chatting me up, and seemed to indicate after only ten minutes of conversation that they would help me get about town. They quickly convinced me to stay in Da Nang with them for a major fireworks competition. When we got there, she ended up going around looking for a room, eventually settling on a triple, which we shared. (I was a little suspicious of the fact that it was called the "Romance Hotel," and that the sheets had teddy bears holding soccer balls and hearts that said "I Love You." Later, when I remarked to Phi that I thought this was funny, she smiled politely, obviously unaware at why) The only mean thing I could say about her was how aggressively she fought me to pay for anything, at one point getting into a tug-of-war match with a dinner tab folder. Who the fuck would do that in America? Letting a total stranger stay with you in a Hotel room, show him around, and insist on paying for everything to boot, a foreigner no less whose language you barely speak. I wonder how many times the average non-white foreign tourist runs into the phrase "English Asshole!" in the US

Waiting at the bus stop in Da Nang, I started chatting with a girl, who like everyone here, is eager to try their English with foreigners. She found out where I was going, and made sure I got the right bus, without me asking for anything. I get to Hoi An, get lost on the way from the bus station, and some guy inside a house suddenly starts calling for me. He starts telling me something I can't really understand, so I just ask him for directions. He tells me where to go (kind of), then gives me the card for his wife, who is one of the hundred tailors in the town. I suspiciously take it, but he introduces me to his kid, and seems nice enough, simply trying to help out the family business. I stroll through town, going to various tailor shops, and end up at his wife's, Cam. (the sign on the shop said "Cam Thach;" not sure what the second word is, could be "tailor," or her family name, but the Vietnamese usually put that first, not last) I ended up getting a suit and pajamas from her, since she gave me the lowest price, and also seemed to be genuinely happy I met her husband and child, of whom she told me some stories that I could only understand about half of. She charged me about $19 for the PJ's, and $60 for the suit, which they custom tailor. Not sure about the quality, I'm taking a leap of faith here, but it seems all the places here have the same kinds of fabric anyway, just the prices vary widely.

Back in Da Nang, the fireworks show was genuinely impressive, being a competition this year between China and Australia. (China seemed to be the crowd's favorite.) It was actually an amazing experience, since there was easily 100,000 people crowded around the main river of the city to see it, 99% them being Vietnamese. It was an electric atmosphere, and when the fireworks were going off, the crowd was cheering like they just saw the Jonas Brothers getting off a bus. One really cool thing about Vietnam is that the people here are really child-like in so many ways, and in a really good way too. They're very industrious, hard-working, practical and intelligent. But at the same time, they love Christmas, think someone falling down is the funniest thing on the planet, and jump up and down and squeal when they see fireworks go off. Right before the show started, me Phi and Thieu were at a restaurant, and were hurrying out to get a good view. Phi has a masters degree and works at a large and distinguished corporate bank. She was pushing me so hard to get through the crowd that she nearly trampled me, yelling "hurry, fast!". It was honestly so fucking adorable to see so many adults get so giddy at fireworks that I nearly started to bust out crying right then and there.

After meeting so many cool people, it really did harsh my mellow running into so many downright assholes. When I talked with Phi, she told me that the central coast area was known in Vietnam for having a mean and aggressive populace. She attributed this to the area being poorer than the rest, but seeing that all of Vietnam lives with some kind of poverty, there has to be more to the story. She said that people in Hue, and Da Nang and the areas around are less generous, and will cheat you more. She also said that Hoi An was a "sad" city, and never wanted to visit. It may be just dumb luck, but it seems to be what I've run into so far. When we ate at a Da Nang street eatery, the guy apparently tried over charging us after Thieu had agreed to a fee beforehand. The guy became the first person I've seen or heard in Vietnam raise their voice in anger and argue aggressively with anybody. I thought he was trying to scam us because of ol' Whitey McTourist hanging out, but Phi said that the locals will cheat other Vietnamese when they can hear they have a dialect from another part of the country. The next day, I got onto a bus from Da Nang to Hoi An, a shitty old thing, packed to beyond capacity, rarely if ever frequented by a tourist. The way it works out here with public buses is you board first, and some guy who runs it comes around collecting money later, or checking for a bus pass. I clearly saw him getting 10,000 Dong per person(about 60 cents), and for some reason, he kept skipping me. He talked to some other people who also worked on the bus (it seems every type of business here has twice the employees it needs) and then came to me. "You pay," he said curtly. When I asked how much, he said "One hundred," meaning 100,000 Dong, or about $6. I said no, I offered to pay 15,000, more than everyone but at least not ridiculous. He started shouting and getting angry, yelling "One Hundred!" He then walked to the back of the packed bus, pushing everyone aside as he moved. Other people on the bus looked at me and showed me the number one with their fingers (in Vietnam, they drop ten thousand from the price of anything when speaking, so something that costs 10,000 Dong, people will say costs "one.") The guy comes back, and I pull out a 10,000 Dong note, and say "ten thousand." Again, he's screaming, "100!" I don't budge, and he eventually starts yelling "Fifty!" I say bullshit, and keep with it. He then starts yelling "Thirty," and I still say ten. Eventually I pull out 15,000. He looks at some guy who works there, says something, the guy nods, and he says OK. They felt good that they scammed the foreigner out of about twenty cents, and I felt good I that whole thing was over. Everyone around me started talking about it when he went to the back of the bus again, and I could tell they were all telling each other what had happened, making it clear they were pretty disgusted with the whole thing.

At the fireworks show, I also saw the local police force out in full riot gear. It seems the people here fear the police much less than they do in America, but that day, a lot of the kids in uniform(and I do mean kids; they all looked barely old enough to drive) were showing everybody whose boss. They kept randomly clubbing people for no apparent reason, to the genuine shock of Phi and Thieu, who himself (apparently) is a cop. They also had these weird taser-baton things that sparked crazily when they hit a button, and kept scarring the shit out of people who did things like step off of the sidewalk or other trivial offenses. Here in Hoi An, I've seemed to get a bunch of people to scream at me, some for no reason, others trying to scam me out of money. I had a shitty time getting a motorbike, and an even shittier time getting gas when it ran out literally 100 yards from where I first got it. Hopefully the suit will rock, (I pick it up tomorrow morning) and it will all be worth it.

Detour

Just a quick update. Left Saigon this morning, and landed in Hue, with plans on heading out to Hoi An. I met a Vietnamese couple along the way that were on vacation, and were going to Da Nang for some big fireworks show. I ended up traveling with them, and now we're splitting a room here in Da Nang, a rather large triple with beds decked out in little kid sheets covered in teddy bears holding hearts that say "I Love You" I plan on going to Hoi An first thing tomorrow morning, now I just have to figure out how to get there. The couple I'm hanging with are named Phi and Thieu; Phi works at a corporate bank, Thieu told me he works as "police," which was startling because he seemed like the most boyish, happy, perma-grin having motherfucker on the planet. Phi then said that he works "secret," (I guess not so much any more though) and something to do with "security" but I wasn't sure if it's the "Secret Police," or if he just works undercover. He said he was a detective (btw, he seriously looks like he's 15) and I asked him if solves crimes, which he nodded enthusiastically, said yes, then both of them turned away abruptly and changed the subject.

Last night in Saigon was pretty fun; hung out a tourist bar that kind of become my dive while I was there, called Sai Gon Bar. It was pretty much visited entirely by tourists, but the bar staff, which seemed to number way more than a bar that size needs, were really cool, and I ended up talking with them most of the time. I tried to remember all their names, but only remember Lan, the really hot bartender, and Huyen, who was like a waitress or something; it was really quite confusing how it worked. In fact, Lan was really less a bartender as she was an order taker; I would have to tell her what I want, then she would get someone else to get it for me. I ended up meeting that Scottish guy I hung out with the other night, Devon, and we chatted a bit. Good guy, seemed to be an almost parody of a stereotypical Scotsman though; shaved head, big drinker, vaugely understandable. The next day I spent walking around the city, going to various shops in the Chinese Neighborhood. In case you were wondering, Saigon, Vietnam, has a Chinatown. I looked through the various painting shops, where people copy famous painting by hand. I was seriously eyeing the Mona Lisa or that famous painting of Napoleon on a horse,but decided against it, for now. They can also paint a portrait based on any photograph you give them, and they charge per person in the picture; I was told two people would run me $65, pre-haggling. I didn't ask how much if no people were in the photo, but I think it has to do with how hard they determine it will be. I unfortunately didn't have any pictures on me, I wish I had known about it before i left for Vietnam, it would be a cool gift idea

Hello where you go?

Internet was out at the hotel for a while, so I hadn't had a chance to blog. This is my last full day in Saigon, I head out to Hoi An first thing tomorrow morning. So far, being here, I've definitely been very much a tourist. Most of my days I've spent wandering around to the various sites. The day before yesterday I spent at the various museums, the most interesting being the War Remnants Museum. It's essentially a catalog of the various atrocities committed by French, American and South Vietnamese forces during the war. It has a room devoted to the Mai Lai massacre, as well as pictures of the vast numbers of birth defects and injuries caused by the use of Agent Orange. It's all stuff that I pretty much knew before, but in this setting, you really get the sense of how impactful it is to the Vietnamese. This essentially is their equivalent of the Holocaust Museum, and although it's a little more crass, really beats you over the head, and doesn't include any mention of possible atrocities committed by their side, it's still very powerful nonetheless. Their attitude towards the Vietnam War (which they obviously call the American War) is much like ours towards WWII. While we tend to speak of the war with words of self-reflection and bitterness, they seem to have a pretty clear view, that they were the good guys, we were the bad guys, they kicked our ass, and the world is a better place because of it. Although many of the various war museums in Vietnam have an air of cheap triumphantilism, displaying the helemts of fallen GI's for instance, they have an even larger sense of reconciliation, making many mentions of former American and Vietnamese soldiers meeting after the war, as well as talking in great length about how many Americans protested against the conflict. It is comforting that the governemt is actively purporting the idea that the American people were not the enemy, and that they can even look away from the past and embrace former soldiers. I'd like to see Al Qaeda have anything close to this.

I went to the Cu Chi tunnels the next day, (many things in Vietnam are named humorously similar to English sexual terms. For instance, the Vietnamese currency is fortunately called the Dong) which were a series of tunnels built by the Viet Cong to fight the French and Americans. They stretched to about 200 km in total length, and took over a decade to build, since it was all done by hand. The site now has just a few remnants of the tunnels; the part you actually go through I found out later was a reconstruction, made bigger to facilitate larger Western tourists. Our tour guide seemed to make several jokes about fat Americans in fact; in order to stop GI's from infiltrating the tunnels, he told us, the Viet Cong made bottle-necks at various points, where the smaller Vietnamese solider could slip through, but the "American, who was fat eating cheeseburger" would get stuck. Apparently, Americans ended up using Hispanic soldiers to get through them. Who knew. They displayed various traps they used on American troops as well, most of them consisting of pit falls laden with bamboo spikes. They also showed us an old propaganda film, which chronicled the exploits of some Vietnamese peasants-turned-guerrillas, who the film diplomatically refereed to constantly as"Hero American Killers." Our tour guide, who actaully was really nice and pretty informative, talked about the Viet Cong killing American troops with an innocent-like glee, similar to a little boy excitedly telling his parents he caught a catfish.

The best part of the tour was the part where they let you fire guns. How this links to anything of historical importance, I don't know or care. It was by far their best money maker, and I'm sure I could have done for it for less in near-by Cambodia, but for about $12, I got to shoot ten rounds in AK-47, showing a large crude painting of a rabbit who's boss (or really, a large patch of hillside behind and around the painting) Any delusions of toughness were stamped out, however, by the giggling group of sixteen-year-old American girls firing an M-16 next to me. The tour also had an M-60, which I should have firedtoo, but we didn't have a whole lot of time, and there was a line.

After I got back into town, I walked around a bit, and randomly ran into that American guy I met the first day here. His name was Darren (I think) and he told me that he just moved here in February, without ever being here before, without a place to stay or a job, or anything. Just straight moved here to be somewhere different. There seems to be a lot of expats here; I met a British guy who was teaching English here for two months. Yesterday, I met a rag-tag group of friends hailing from various English speaking countries and Scotland (seriously, I could barely understand a word that guy said) Most of them were either living here or tavelling around for past couple of months or so; the one girl in the group said she had lived in Cambodia for six months, and in Mexico for a year before that. She also said that she was from Toronto, and when I mentioned that I had some friends in LA from Winnipeg, she made a disgusted face and said "Winnipeg, urgh, that's like saying they're from Idaho!" I went with them to probably the sleaziest club in Saigon, called "Apocalypse Now," which only the Scottish guy seemed to know was a reference to a movie. (The Canadian girl thought it was for "Apocalypto," greatly irking my film snob sensibilities) I heard it was great, only to see such a great concentration of Vietnamese prostitutes and middle-aged white guys, along with the occasional cougar wife who isn't gonna let her good-for-nothing-piece-of-shit-whore-chasing-husband have all the fun here. I felt uncomfortable from the get go, only heighten when, just standing there, two scantily clad Vietnamese girls (by the way, girls here generally dress very conservatively) started robitcally grinding in front of me, trying give me some kind of "sexy" look, that really came off more as eye-rolling boredom. I left early, not being drunk enough to think I could dance, being given extra motivation to leave after they started playing that "boots wit tha' furrr." song.

Mister Saigon

I'll have to keep this brief, especially since my last blog was pretty long. Landed in Ho Chi Minh City yesterday, but most people seem to still call it Saigon (though not everyone, like those travel books keep saying so smugly) It's pretty crazy here, much busier than Hanoi. I walked around a bit when I got here, looking for a hotel. There's a small neighborhood here centered around Pho Ngu Lau street with about a hundred small hotels. I opted for one called Phi Long, with AC and Internet, which is running me about $14 a night, but the place next to me has hostel-like, 4 people to a dorm accommodations for $3 a night. Surprisingly, most people staying at these hotels are Vietnamese.

Yesterday, walked around 23/9 park, commemorating Sept. 23rd, I think the day Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese. Met three students who are studying to be English teachers, who wanted to practice what they know. Joined by some other dude, who was out of school , but also wanted to try his English, and seemed like I was running a little school there for a second. They were all really cool, but I had my guard up a little though, seeing that the second I got off the plane, I kept getting approached by dudes trying some scam or another. My favorite conversation in Saigon so far; Random dude standing next to scooter, "Hey, you want ride on motor bike?" Me, "No." Random dude, "You want to enjoy a lady?" The city seems filled with these motor-bike-taxi-driving-pimp-drug-dealers who are in their forties. Later, I met up with Ben's friend Hien, who took me to a restaurant, then a "Cuban/Spanish/German" bar. After that, I went to some cheesy nightclub that some random American guy I met invited me out to, had two Hollywood-priced beers and left. Today, the Viet Cong tunnels outside the city, hopefully.

Get Some

For the weekend, I ended up going south with Ben and Huyen for a wedding. We got back last night, and again, I'm happy to just be alive. The road there wasn't to bad (although I ended up side-swiping some lady on a scooter as she stood in the middle of the busy street; the only damage done was her purse strap got busted, but she flat out refused any money from me) The road back was pretty nuts though; just when I thought traffic couldn't get any crazier, I drove on Vietnam's highways at night. I hate to keep writing about the traffic here, but it really is a big deal, partly because you feel like getting off a very long and very unsafe roller coaster ride when your done getting somewhere. I am feeling a lot more comfortable in it, but I'm still trying to keep my guard up when I'm on the road. Last night required me to be as focused as freaking humanly possible; just when I think I'm doing a great job of avoiding oncoming eighteen-wheelers, (who consideratly lay on their horns when they barrel through into the opposite lane, you know, for safety) unlit bicycles, random pedestrians wearing all black, and the occasional farm animal and mad-max vehicles, I ran over a fucking pair of boots and nearly lost control. It was then I think I started to laugh manically, screaming "Bring it on motherfuckers! Get some, get some!!!" or something like that.

The wedding was for Huyen's cousin, which took place about two hours outside of Hanoi. It was in a small city I think called called Nam Dinh. I have a little over a week left here, but I'm pretty sure nothing is going to top this. We drove in before noon, and immediately went into the home of Huyen's aunt and uncle, the parents of her cousin, which was filled with at least 50 or so people crammed into a relatively small space. After changing intonice clothes, we quickly were brought to a table, among a half dozen, and sat down with Huyen's father, sisters, and their respective husbands. They spoke about as much English as we did Vietnamese, but somehow, the whole thing was great, start to finish. There was a whole bunch of food in the middle, which was all amazing. Huyen and her sister Hoai(?) thought it was really funny if they kept piling food onto me and Ben's plate, since once it's there, it's considered rude in Vietnamese not to eat it. Since we neither know more than half dozen words in each other's language, I had to eventually motioned to Hoai that I'm full; without skipping a beat she replies, in English, "I don't think so!" During this period of about two hours, we ate more food than probably an entire Viet Cong regiment ever did in a year, all the while drinking beer after beer with different relatives, who Huyen admited knowing the names of only about two-thirds of. It really didn't matter, and several times, we would do this toast that basically was the Vietnamese equivalent of yelling "chug! chug!" Everyone raises their glasses, yell something like "Mo Tran, Fun Tran"(which translates into "100 perecnt" in Vietnamese," and then you have to slam an entire beer, lest you be judged as less of a man by everyone at the table, a fate assigned to one of Huyen's uncles who spent a good five minutes getting laughed at by the people next to us after he only finished half of his. By the way, women DO NOT drink alcohol here, or seldom do; so all these toasts and alcohol rituals involve men. The same, bizarrely, goes with tea as well. After somehow getting over the abject injustice and sexism of this, we went out to town for some coffee (iced, sweet, and ridiculously strong) then took part of a wedding parade through the city, which involved the couple getting their picture taken in front of a MASSIVE communist-style statue of some old Vietnamese King in a large square. It was after all this that the first half of the actual ceremony started back at Huyen's cousin's house, which was as confusing as it was great. Huyen's father skillfully shared MC duties with some other guy, both of whom talked very animatedly into a microphone that had this ridiculous echo effect on, making them sound like they were doing play-by-play at a monster truck rally. Oh, and all of this was done to a soundtrack of 90's Euro club music, which were remixes of American Christmas music, like Frosty the Snowman and that Boy George "Last Christmas" song. And Feliz Navidad too. Apperently, this is not done unknowingly. They love Christmas in Vietnam

So, a lot of people kinda seemed to go in and out of the whole ceremony, and Huyen kept saying "Oh, this is a very important part" about every two minutes, without much more explanation then that. It didn't seemed like it made much sense to ask exactly what was happening; I got the gist of it. Two people get married, everyone else gets drunk, some crazy shit happens with some kind of ceremony, and everyone is having an ungodly amount of fun. (Except for the groom, who looked pissed as all hell; it may have just been the nerves) Ben was assigned photography duty, since my camera's battery died, although I did get some good shots with my old Nikon film camera. (yeah, you heard right) They had the second half of the ceremony in another part of the city, in what I gathered was the groom's house, where it was another bizarre "echo-effects-and-Christmas-disco-happy-super-fantastic-fun-bash." (Ben joked that they were doing the starting line-up for the Lakers) They exchanged rings, with people barely paying attention, talking with each other more than anything. Next thing we know, boom, it's done, and we changed and went on our way home.

While we were there, we were able to get in some sights. Before we checked in at the Hotel, which was in a neighboring city of Ninh Dinh, we checked out the site of what will be the largest Buddhist temple in Southeast Asia called Bai Dinh. To get there, you get off the main highway, and you drive through this brand spanking new four lane highway which has practically zero traffic, a welcome sight as well as an opportunity to see how fast the motor bikes can really go. (I got her up to about a whopping 75 kilometers an hour, about 47 mph; I stopped after two seconds, when it felt like she was about to fall apart) The road goes through probably some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, lush green flat land, covered in these massive limestone rock formations, which look like large, vertical, bubble like mountains, each separated from one another. The temple complex itself lays after about a twenty minute drive on this road, and was in the process of being constructed, so you basically were going up a dirt road along a hill, littered with construction supplies. One temple was mostly done, a huge building with three huge "gold" Buddhas. We left after it got dark, and headed to Ninh Binh, where we had a great zoo dinner of squid, frog, goat, and buffalo. I tried going later that night, after old man Ben August put in his old man hat and slippers and retired for the evening at about ten, but the only bar I was aware of was closed. I had a beer at the Hotel, next to a group of British tourists in their twenties. One of the people that worked at the Hotel (who seemed to do every staff position there) seemed to like them a lot and tried to talk to them and I think even got them free beer; They ignored him, and just kept talking about their favorite clubs back Liverpool.

Before the wedding, on Sunday, we went out to Tam Coc, which they called an "inland Halong Bay." Tam Coc essentially is those large limestone mountains, but with a large river-like grotto running through it. You travel through here via row boat, which are hired through an office. It takes about an hour and half for the whole tour, which goes through three massive caves, with just barely enough head room to sit up in the boat. Some rowers (unfortunately not ours) row with their feet, which frees up their hands to do things like smoke a cigarette or whittle something up out of a wooden stick with a bowie knife. After that, wedding, then after that we headed out to Huyen's family home, which was in a small village called Ha Nam. There, we ate dinner with her parents, brother, one of her sisters and her fiance. Again, barely an understood word between us, but they were very hospitable and nice, and I had a great time nonetheless. After that, the two hour maddening hell-nightmare road trip back to Hanoi, where I had to unwind with a bottle of beer and a bucket of snails next to Ben house.

PTSD

Great News! I'm still alive! Hopefully this will be a fact that I will have the luxury of blogging for many years to come. What makes this so news-worthy is that today, I rented a motor bike, and had the distinct pleasure of navigating Hanoi's comically dysfunctional traffic system all by myself. I've driven out three times, and each time required me to have at least fifteen minutes to settle down my heart rate and try to calm down. I think I may have kinda already hit a car, and of course, came into many near collisions, all of which sort of seem like no big deal at all. The concept and phrase "right of way" is one I would just love to see someone just try to translate to a Vietnamese, because it would be met with a stare so blank, the likes of which have yet to be seen.

I've decided to name my motorbike, much like I've named all the cars I've owned. I think I'm settled on "Hanoi Jane," although "Jane Honda" is a good one too. (Combining all three of these together would be too much) If anyone cares to leave their vote, it would be highly appreciated.

First thing me and ol' Jane did was visit the Hoa Lo prison, which we all here know as the Hanoi Hilton. (There is a Hilton in Hanoi, but they have some kind of different name for it) The place is now a museum, where they devote much of it to explaining the harshness of colonial rule by the French, who were the ones who built it, and used it apperently to house political prisoners. Of course, when the Vietnamese took it over, and used it to jail captured US fighter pilots, it was much more akin to a low-budget country club than anything, a fact the museum spends a good deal of time highlighting as well. Apparently, just like the detainees at Guantanomo Bay, POW's were treated with the utmost humanity, and were also allowed to play volleyball and get care packages from their families, all the while eating better then the common Vietnamese did! They also allowed them to be photographed while they were being treated so good, just like a movie star! Speaking of crazy shit, the main draw of the museum is John McCain's flight suit, which I would say is the "Mona Lisa" of the place, if they weren't already selling the Mona Lisa for about twenty bucks at the gift shop. (see my pics on Facebook)

I was planning on taking the motor bike out to see the Hanoi Opera tonight, but the thought of driving in all this crazy shit, being my first time ever riding a motorcycle of any kind, while it's raining, in a city I don't quite know well, at night, is just too much for today. But we'll see. Tomorrow, we're set to drive out to the countryside, where Huyen's cousin is getting married. Hopefully the drive out there will make me less utterly freaked out by driving on a motor bike. Fingers crossed.


PS: PTSD in the title refers to "Post-Traffic-Stress-Disorder," a very clever joke I decided to wait until the very end of this post to explain

So, officially, it's been 24 hours since I landed in Hanoi, and very little of that time has been devoted to sleep. I've had a chance to see a fair chunk of the city, being shown around by my friend Ben who has lived here for nearly a year, and at whose house I'm now staying at. One thing that you notice right away is the absolutely scary-as-all-fucking-hell system of road traffic. Oddly enough, it's less scary when you ride on a motorbike then in a car. I've since tried my hardest to let go to fate, and treat all the many of a long series of cringe-inducing, heart-stopping, "Ho-oly crap, we... just...so… BAAAAARLEY cheated death in a horrific accident by a minute fraction of an inch and some unholy luck" incidents with the same stoic ambivalence as the rest of the residents of the city. Traffic lights, road signs, and lane dividers, including ones delineating traffic direction, are mere suggestions at best. Motorists in cars and motorbikes seem to use every bit of drivable surface they can physically fit onto, employing the ethos that the best way to a destination is to follow the straightest line possible, road signs, traffic flow, pedestrians, and even buildings be damned. It's kinda like if every single person in New York decided to get from one place to another doing Parkour. In their cars. Huyen, Ben's Vietnamese girlfriend seemed to find amusement in his American friends' and families' utter paranoia about the madcap traffic system. "You just go," she conveyed, a tenet that evoked a Zen-like quality to driving. "What about accidents?" I asked. "Yes, we get a lot of accidents" she retorted, chuckling. Touché.

By the way, so far, everyone here is fucking awesome. While only being here a day, I've encountered a good deal of people. Some are pushy, some annoying, some are trying to scam you. But most, and I mean the great majority, are ridiculously nice and friendly. Huyen, Ben's girl, is awesome, and showed me around town a little too, when Ben was at work. She helped in buying a fold-out bed for me, which ended up being a glorified lawn chair. She drove all over the city with me, trying to find a place that's open. She ended up finding one, and after some haggling, we carted it back on her motorbike, with me in the back, holding it in front of me, while she drove. By the way, high-balling for prices seems like one of Vietnam's most viable exports, but it's all done with an air of apparent good-spiritedness. Haggling seems to be done less out of a desire to get as much money from someone, than as an excuse to engage them in conversation. It's like it's done out of boredom, rather than greed.

Also, every kid I've run into on the street says "Hello" to me. Not in any weird, I'm fucking with the tourist kind of way. If I respond, some try to engage me with the three phrases they all seem to learn. "What is your name?" "Where are you from?" "How old are you?" We went to the air force museum, and were mobbed by an elementary school trip, every kid asking those same three questions, every kid excited at meeting a foreigner and having the chance to try out their English. Besides feeling like a rock-star, it was the single most adorable thing in the world. They went ape-shit when I took pictures with them, and they even tried to teach me how to properly read the Vietnamese signs that were around the museum. I've been to other third world countries. When kids mob you, they're either begging or trying to jack your wallet. Here, it was out of pure curiosity and simple excitement of meeting someone different. It took a while to let my guard down, and try talking with them, but is was awesome. Ben stressed a sentiment that I wholeheartedly agree so far; kids in Vietnam rule.

The first thing I ate when I got here was bun-cha, a soup with rice noodles and grilled pork. Most places here usually serve only one thing, and most of it involves some kind of soup concoction. Also, every street here seems to specialize in selling one thing as well. We drove past the cleaning supplies street, then the silk street, then the dog street. And I don't mean the street that sold pets. It’s really unnerving, seeing row after row of street cart vendors, with roast dog piled behind glass. Head, tail, and everything. I know that in terms of fucked-upness , eating dog is really no less morally abhorrent than eating any kind of animal. But still. They also apparently serve cat in places too. They call it “little leopard.”

After getting a good whiff of roasted dog as we passed the all the street-meat vendors, we went to the Temple of Literature, Vietnam’s first University, a nice collection of really old buildings and gardens, now just a tourist site. Then went to the air force museum (with the school trip kids), where we saw shot down American planes, and ridiculously large Soviet helicopters that seemed more of a joke than a formidable weapon of war. I got my picture taken in a real Vietnam-war era MIG, and climbed another ridiculously large Soviet satellite truck. I felt like I was twelve again, and it like totally ruled. Later, I went out and got that cot with Huyen, and then we met up with Ben’s roommates, who happen to be Polish, for dinner and beer; Lau de, a goat hot pot, goat soup with rice noodles and vegetables, started off with pieces of marinated goat chest and udder, grilled on a small charcoal grill in the middle of the table. Downed it with Ha-noi beer, then went home and crashed. Today, I’m trying to learn to ride a motorbike.