Large and in Charge

Entry #16.  November 7, 2012, 10:20 pm.  Pool deck, Apartment, District 5, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
This is the exact scene that is behind my computer as I write this post.

And this sits behind me.

I'm not at the Intercontinental Hotel or Park Hyatt Saigon, nor a rooftop lounge of any type.  I'm writing from my new apartment, the place where I sleep.  Exciting things have happened lately since we approached the end date of our lease in our previous, withering house.  We've moved on to a 24th floor, posh penthouse on top of an apartment building in district 5- a lofty loft.  The old Ly Chinh Thang house was great, but a combination of eroding paint, molding walls, and relentless construction noise from next door led us to our new cloud-soaring party pad.  We found the apartment through a friend and we jumped on it (or into it, the pool).  I have that feeling of a new beginning and heightened excitement, as well as one of spoiled indulgence.  The flat is incredible.  The icing on the bánh is the relatively low price.  If you are reading this while standing, you might want to sit down.  I only pay 5,000,000 Vietnamese Dong for this.  What a STEAL!  If you are fluent in Dong conversion and already did the calculations, excuse the redundancy.  That's about $250 USD/month.  The view alone is worth 20,000,000,000 VND.  (A million bucks, keep up). I still have my same roommates, with the addition of Gabe, another teacher who is from Washington DC.  None of us is used to the new Vietnamese lifestyle of the rich and famous, and we hope the initial thrill won't ever wear off.  Note: we also have a sauna in the upstairs bathroom.

Besides the new address, the weeks are floating by while I absorb more Vietnamese culture.  The highlights of the past month and a half include:

- Oktoberfest, Saigon.  Yep, you know it as Southeast Asia's biggest Oktoberfest celebration.  A large hotel hosted a gigantic German slosh fest complete with polka dancing, German rap, sausages, pork knuckle, pretzels, beer stations, and most importantly, Vietnamese and Westerners dancing on tables.  If only I had video footage of the beer-induced, awkward movements set to music.  Reminiscent of the giant, fan-propelled stickmen at car dealerships, I learned some exciting new dance material from most of the Asian revelers.

- Evil sister.  Before my move, I used to jog in the park near my old house.  In the park was a mini carnival that included a small, circular track for children to drive little cars.  As I was jogging through, I noticed a car with young girl who had a maniacal grin on her face, and a frightened one on her younger brother's.  After swerving to create her own routes and crashing into the other cars, a worker came running after her to set her straight or better yet kick her off.  She accepted this challenge, though, and powered ahead, weaving between the other few cars to haul forward.  But she ended her tyrannical reign with a powerful crash into the light post, which triggered all the lights of the entire carnival to go out.  I smiled and continued jogging in the dark.

-Balancing act.  While driving, I saw a girl on the back of another zigzagging motorbike eating noodle soup with perfect precision.

- My girlfriend.  One of my young students drew a picture of what he thought my girlfriend should look like.  Enjoy.

- Little Hubbie.  On the first day of an adult class, I'll usually give each student a piece of paper and allow everyone to write down any one question they want to ask me.  With the anonymity, the questions are always entertaining.  Of recent note was the question: "Would you like to be my little husband?"

- Classroom profanity.  In another new class, a student introduced herself with her real life name, "Phuc Dat".

- Scary, all eight of 'em.  In our old house, we had a large kitchen that housed an entire nocturnal food chain.  At the bottom were the ants, which were eaten by the lizards, who competed with the unavoidable Vietnamese cockroaches (which can also FLY).  At the top of the chain was Cuc, our cleaning lady.  But one night I stumbled across another contender for the top spot, and she could steal my kill any day she wanted.

- Memorable farewell.  On the last day of one of my favorite kid's classes, the students told me that they had a surprise for me during the last 10 minutes of class.  They all lined up, unveiled signs they had colored, and sang a traditional Vietnamese song that shows respect and gratefulness to a teacher.  Although, I did give them candy that day so maybe that's what they were grateful for.

- 'Lil party-er.  "What happened last night?"...was written (in Vegas-style, bright-colored font) on the t-shirt of an ~8 year-old student meandering through the halls at school; he was probably heading for the coffee.

- Fan's biggest fan.  I often give oral examinations to students, where I ask students certain questions to grade their oral responses based on appropriate grammar and fluency.  One of the questions was 'What do you think are the three greatest inventions?'.  Upon asking, a student responded with "the computer, the motorbike, and the fan".  Maybe next time, wheel.  Just goes to show how important the fan is in a tropical country that lives through oppressive heat 12 months/year.

- Halloteens.  On Halloween, I had to teach a teen class that was full of the usual impudent, hormone-filled characters.  Besides giving out candy, playing the song "Monster Mash", and a brief history lesson, I had one last ghoulish trick for the cheeky teens.  To prep, I taught them about 'Where's Waldo'.  Then, I invited the most defiant student up to the front of the class.  I told him that he had 15 seconds to find Waldo, and if he did, I would give him 200,000 VND ( = $_______, see *solution at bottom).  Then, I played a YouTube video clip of a 'Where's Waldo' scene and a timer counting down from 15 seconds.  But, at about second 12, a heinous, grotesque, screaming zombie face pops up to shock a concentrating onlooker.  The entire class, and especially the student up close, all recoiled and screamed in such terror that made all the Halloween spirits proud.
*$10

The rest can be said in pictures and a few more words:

The heart of the old French quarter.

The new apartment's day view.

The night view.

From a cloud's view, I can witness the huge array of veinal streets and arterial alleys that provide blood flow to the city, a true living organism.  Every building serves a purpose and the human cells never stop working.  When I'm in the streets, I become part of the hectic bustle that keeps the city alive.  But from my axial vantage point, I see the cityganism as a whole, with each structure matching its function.  It's a complicated and beautiful life-form.

The scene that greets me each morning.  The sounds crawl up the walls and I can a hear the unlimited buzz of the city.  There is an uninterrupted symphony of distant honks that pay tribute to the reckless traffic on the ground.

Driving down a road that aligns perfectly with the towering Bitexco Building.

The last picture I took from the rooftop of our old house.  The blanket of buildings is endless.

Time is still spilling forward but I'm enjoying every day.  The food of Vietnam is continuing to titillate all my senses and the city's roads and alleyways create endless exploration.  After eight months, I know I've enjoyed an incredible adventure but yet I feel that there is so much more to see.  I have no complaints.  Vietnam is providing for me an insatiable craving for....life, fast or still.

R.R.

Entry #15.  September 8, 2012, 8:16 pm.  Living Room, House, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  In this installment I offer a glimpse into my everyday life, because I am always grumbling about the rapid rate of time that turns days into weeks and weeks into months...and it's time I explain the activity of my day-to-day Asian existence.   According to traditional models of culture shock, at this point I am in the 'adjustment phase' of my move abroad- when my surroundings no longer seem so new and a normal routine develops.  In this phase, the romantic element of the newness of the place as well as adverse reactions to the foreign environment are reduced, and I gain a sense of normalcy.  I can agree with most of this assessment, although at any moment when I am zipping on my motorbike or eating in a dust cafe full of exotic faces, I can tell myself that these are things I would never experience at home.

What is noteworthy, however, is that the experience of travel is changing as fast as the world is shrinking.  In the last five years, recognizable upscale shops and hotels have lined the most central boulevards of Ho Chi Minh City in much the same way that they have in European cities and other world capitals.  As we will see the same high-end shops and hotels in very different parts of the world, the idea of travel is curtailed into something that has hardened expectations and a lofty standard of living.  Consequently, the natural and unique elements to a culture are cornered to its more remote parts, which are often far away from a city's most beautiful and historical centers- the favorite spots of international businesses.  Globalization may be integral to economies, but it is certainly impacting a country's ability to show off its unique cultural footprint.  In fact, just yesterday McDonald's announced that it will be coming to Vietnam in two years.  Not that I would ever complain about the sensational high that comes from biting into a Big Mac or McGriddle, but as a result the company will streamline other small restaurants to keep up with the latest standards of fast food.  There are countless other examples of the effects of merging economic markets, in many different industries, but my point is this:  I've learned that the only way to truly experience the connection of a unique culture to its native landscape is by learning the language and adapting to the conventions of its people.  When traveling to a new place, the best expectation to have is none at all.

I question whether I can be so cynical as I still struggle with Vietnamese and just this past week, I ordered both Mexican and Indian takeout.  Some days I wake up late and still take a nap in the afternoon to escape the heat or rain.  But this is because my sense of normalcy in Vietnam has converged with my bottomless intrigue for new cultures so that I can live a life of personal comfort that also rationalizes the localized way of life.  No doubt that I'm still learning to travel "right", but Vietnam is continuing to teach me.

On the average day,  I will wake up around 9 am (or earlier if the construction on the house next door involves hammering) and then I will check the news, my email, etc.  In the afternoon I will run any needed errands or meet people for lunch or drink coffee roadside.  Then I will take a quick nap before I lesson-plan and hit the rush-hour roads for work.  After my three hour class, I often meet other teachers or friends for a few drinks or the occasional wild night out.  Or sometimes I'll just come home and read or watch a few episodes of a recommended TV show online.  Saturdays and Sundays are full of kids classes from 7:45 am to 5 pm, and often result in heavier drinking.  My routine has essentially been set, but just because it repeats itself doesn't mean I need to lose the excitement of living in different country. At any time I am able to remind myself that I'm a full 9830 miles from home and because of that there is no limit to wonderment. I'll call it Revitalizing Repetition.

With this learned complacency, I've decided to stay an entire year in Ho Chi Minh City instead of just six months.  Half of a year is not enough time to gain proper experience as an ex-patriot or teacher.  And, there is much more traveling to be had in Asia before I embark back to the West.  You can imagine my mother's reaction to this- her visit to the psychiatrist's office is imminent.  But I know what you are thinking- this means there is more time to visit.  Just be sure to reserve your dates in advance and your request for a bum gun, squatty potty, or Western toilet.  Complimentary travel wipes provided.

The view of downtown HCMC, from a bridge on my daily route from work to home

The VUS campus (in Khanh Hoi, district 4) where I most often teach (there are 12 throughout the city)

My teen class on the last day- the most challenging and most fun class to teach

A typical lunch- Chicken, veggies, rice, soup, and Coke = $1.50 or 30,000 VND

5:45 pm rush hour on my way to work.  Notice the beer delivery system.

The biggest roundabout (or more accurately, circus) in the city and the front of the central market, Ben Thanh

Saigon River

The recurrent, skinny buildings of modern Vietnamese city-planning

My shoe compared to that of Cuc's (the petite albeit vigorous cleaning lady)

The phở lady on my street, proudly sporting a hearty chicken leg

My street, Lý Chính Thắng, with my alley down the road on the left

Tarzan Syndrome

Entry #14.  August 15, 2012, 8:02 pm.  Outside Deck, House, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  Another month whips by and I'm left wondering if 'time' is properly obeying the laws of physics.  The pictures above attempt to emulate another fantastic vacation, this time to Malaysia, Truly Asia (according to their tourism TV commericials).  More importantly, though, my best friend Kyle Scott- aka Special K, KIZ, Two Beer Fear- came to visit me.  He was his legendary self and put his mark on Asia for two weeks, being my first visitor and survivor to tell his tale.  Together with Stephanie and our friend Kate, we made an amusing foursome to take a trip to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and a faraway island at the bottom of the South China Sea- Tioman Island.  Simply stated, the island was the climax of the trip; it looked as though it was the place where King Kong originated.  Looming dense jungle met unspoiled beaches that quickly led to tropical ocean.  The entire group agreed that it was the most beautiful, surreal place we had ever been to, and once the monkeys performed a swing-through raid and we encountered a Kimodo Dragon-like creature, we were sold that King Kong was also hiding in the depths of this place.  

We first spent a few days in Kuala Lumpur, the teeming capital of Malaysia, before we set off for some ocean medication.  The city has the basics of an abuzz Asian capital- enormous, hectic, and vibrant- but  it also has a unique mixture of Indian, Chinese, and Malay people.  Consequently, the food was incredible.  We insisted on taking it easy in the city, convincing ourselves that that was possible, and we strived for limited sightseeing and maximized food-tasting, market-bargaining, and yes, bar-hopping.  Further, it was Ramadan in a predominately Muslim country, but there was no way we were fasting until sundown.  After second lunch and early dinner, we were the antithesis of Ramadan.  I enjoyed KL, noting that I only scratched its surface.  It was the best Muslim capital I've ever been to during the month of Ramadan, in fact.  

The pace was genuinely slowed once we arrived at our island paradise.  The journey to get there, however, was a night I need to remember to forget.  Trusting the advice of a hasty tourist agent and only cross-referencing it with a sketchy ticket cashier, we booked the seemingly necessary transportation to get to the beach we craved.  Initially, we were told a night bus that departed at 11 pm would take us to a reputable beach town by 7 am.  Regretfully, we boarded the bus in a post-state of a night out, and we didn't know that our bus driver was going to attempt Mach5.  He whipped around mountains speeding at rates unknown, and at one point I was launched from my seat into the Asian couple in front of me as a result of perfunctory braking.  Kyle had his barf bag ready, Kate was yelling for him to slow down, and Stephanie looked ahead, angry and unamused.  We arrived nearly 3 hours ahead of time, at 4:00 am.  Of course the next domino of hell came when we were told that we needed to wait until the boat office opened so that we could buy tickets to sail to the island, which was 40 miles offshore.  We didn't know we were going to an island before this point.  Waiting for hours in the darkest parts of the night in a shanty Malaysian town, settling for a squatty potty at 5 am, is when you find yourself questioning your choices.  When dawn broke and the cats stopped molesting our ears and my mind was right, we were able to buy our boat tickets and head off to the island.  Eventually, the final destination was an end that justified all it's transitory means; a still island cured our battered selves, with one cold beer and a hot meal on the beach setting all things right.

The most remarkable adventure on the idyllic island was unanimously the jungle hike we took from one town to the next, on the opposite side of the island.  Kyle and I set off on a path that first weaved through the marina town and then led to outer single-family farms, the remains of the native villagers.  In a quick minute, the path turned into matted dirt and entered the dark canopy of tropical wilderness, daring us to move on.  The ensuing hike was surreal- monkeys swinging overhead, trees shaking in the distance, alien insects, twisting vines, fear of snakes, an unknown growl, and a periodic postcard view of the far-off ocean at the summits of the foggy hills.  After eating in the opposite town, we did the same hike back, but this time fighting sunset and the threat of total darkness under the trees.  In the last 15 minutes of the ~hour hike, we were in blackness and had to use our camera lights for sight, and that's about when a snoring monkey became King Sasquatch Kong ready to pounce.  Although a bit scary at the end and overall enchanting, the hike was memorable for the fact that I, at one point, considered staying on the island, finding myself a Jane and establishing a colony of little Jmarts in the treetops with gorilla friends.  

A short day back to KL in the Truly Asian style for one last trip to the market and an eclectic meal, and our vacation from our vacation was over.  We were all happy to have Saigon welcome us back to our second reality and alas, 12 hours later, I was back in the classroom with 20 overhyped, cheeky, intelligent Asian kids.  

I was thrilled to have Kyle as a visitor.  Every two years, for the past eight years, we have taken a chronicled vacation somewhere, and the latest might top the list.  Unfortunately, his camera was stolen in a petty theft incident, so he hasn't any pictures to prove that he was actually here.  To Kyle's family- see fifth picture from top.  Of course we're at an Irish bar, which may dis-Orient you, but that's because it was Malaysian Midtown's hottest happy hour deal-- with Olympic table tennis on the big screen.

Until next time and Xin Chao.

To Maggie

Hanoi

John McCain's suit when he was brought to the Hanoi Hilton as prisoner

Approaching Ha Long Bay

Dragon

Driving to Hoi An

Entry #13.  July 10, 2012, 9:09 pm.  Living Room, House, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  I won’t ever be able to get used to how quickly time flies over here.  Days pass by like they’re a cup of coffee, weeks like 40 oz. beer, and months like a twelve-pack.  We’re talking fast.  How inconvenient it is that when we want time to move slowly, it only accelerates.  But when we’re at places like the DMV or waiting for a red light, it seems that the world stands still.  Maybe I need to explore my inner-Confucius and practice some Asian meditation.  It’s about time I find my chi.

I finally was able to see and discover more of Vietnam two weeks ago. Stephanie, her best friend Sara (our first visitor and survivor of Jmart Guesthouse), and I traveled to Hanoi, Ha Long Bay, Da Nang, and Hoi An.  The latter two are beach towns in the middle of the country and were the remedy to my beach deprivation sickness.  The nearest beach is one hour away from Saigon, and I don’t think I have gone this long (~4 months) without going to a beach in my entire life.  I was very content to put my toes back into the water, crack open a cold one, and recollect my bronze from the sun.  I now have my glow again.  What is comical is that in Vietnam, the whiter your skin the more beautiful you are.  Girls go to great lengths to keep their skin unpolluted from the sun, as Asian people can tan very easily. They will wear sweaters, pants, gloves, long socks, and facemasks in the heat and while driving so that not an inch is exposed.  So it turns out that I came back from the beach uglier and tanner.  Michael Jackson had the right idea, for Asia anyway.

Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, was beautiful and filled with more history.  The city has both a European and traditional Vietnamese feel about it while also having a character different from that of Saigon.  Imagine comparing New York to Atlanta.  In Hanoi, the people are slightly less kind to tourists, the food is less spicy, the buildings are older, the streets are less chaotic, and my cell phone is still riding around in a random Hanoi cab.  We saw Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum, but it was closed so we didn’t get to go into it to see his preserved body.  Supposedly it is only open to tourists a few hours each day, and then you can't see that Ho, no mo’.  Hanoi was also one of the hottest places I have ever been.  Unlike Saigon, it has humidity on par with the oppressive, sticky clamminess of a summer in South Florida.  I had some nasty back-sweat stains happening and I wasn’t happy about it.  Although this was appeased with my very memorable Hanoi massage.  We went to a recommended parlor that was off the beaten track and probably not going to be written in the Lonely Planet anytime soon.  The staff immediately separated us so that I was led into the men’s section and the girls were ushered down a scary corridor, seemingly never to be seen again.  Phase 1- undress.  In a communal locker room/spa, I disrobed and put on the house boxers (again, way too small), while others chose to keep it natural and expose their Vietnamese Dong (yike$).   Phase 2- shower.  They took me to a communal shower and scrubbed me down by hand with coarse sponges.  I haven’t been bathed like that since I was in diapers.  Phase 3- barrel soak.  Then, I was escorted to a vertical wooden barrel filled with hot water that smelled like tea.  They plopped me in there and then just stared at me.  I tried talking to them but their courteous nods told me that they did not speak English or understand my bad jokes.  Instead, they fed me cigarettes and tried to communicate in Vietnamese, which of course failed.  Phase 4- Jacuzzi soak.  After a good 10 minutes in the smelly barrel, I was re-cleaned in a Jacuzzi tub, bubbles, soap, naked Vietnamese men, and all.  Phase 5- the massage.  Finally, the real deal.  They showed me to a private room with the proper table and female masseuse.  Again, it was soothing and strange at the same time, more so when the lady was completely standing on top of me.  Overall, it was similar to my other massage- pleasingly painful and I liked the way it hurt.  Afterwards, I found myself thinking “ugh, I need a massage after that massage”.

Ha Long Bay was spellbinding.  The bay is unique for its mysterious mountains, rolling fog, and floating villages and the pictures can't do it justice.  The legend says that some thousands of years ago, some dragon did something bad to some powerful deity, and it was somehow cursed to live in the bay as some sum of mountain-like somethings.  The details escape me.  We arranged to spend one night and two days on a boat that took us around the area.  We went kayaking, fishing, cave-exploring, pearl farming, and even received a bonus spring roll cooking lesson.  I rolled those babies tight and fat.  If ever in Vietnam, Ha Long Bay is absolutely not to be missed.

Da Nang was great for its wide beach and warm water.  In our day in Da Nang, we established beach base camp quite early, say around 11 am.  We were the only ones.  We had the entire beach and ocean to ourselves, but only until 4 pm came around.  The aforementioned Asian obsession with pale skin limits the locals to early morning and late afternoon beach excursions.  That is all fine and dandy, but they arrived by the busloads, all within the same 30 minutes.  It was like a D-Day invasion, except that no one arrived by boat, we were only fighting for towel space, and people had coolers instead of  machine guns.  The incursion did take us by surprise, though.  I was pretty scarred from the size of the average middle-aged Vietnamese man’s bathing suit, and if symptoms of PTSD arise I will see the necessary professional.

Hoi An was likely my favorite place.  We rented motorbikes in Da Nang and then drove along the coast to Hoi An, which was a gorgeous jaunt along the water and through small villages.  The end result was even more charming.  Hoi An, about an hour away from Da Nang, is the quintessential authentic Vietnamese town.  The buildings are relics from the old, slower days.  The streets are still lit by lanterns at night, and the markets have changed little.  But the city is most famous for its hundreds of tailors.  Because I was traveling with two fashion-happy girls who only wanted to get dresses made all day, I was expecting to find an unhurried drinking spot and spend the day alone.  But after walking into the first tailor, I was hooked.  I became more enthusiastic about it than Sara and Stephanie by the end of the day, speaking only of sizes, fabrics, designs, and colors.  It's like I had to watch a football game afterwards to cancel out my effeminate day of shopping for clothes.  In the end, I had two pairs of linen pants made, one button-down shirt, and a pair of boat shoes.  I was too indecisive for a full-on suit, so it became my excuse to make it back to Hoi An. 

One event occurred since my last post that jolted my existence in Asia and really made me miss home.  My kooky, devoted dog Maggie died suddenly from an unknown illness or ingested poison.  I woke up one morning while in Hanoi to read an email from my dad that explained the incident.  It took me a long time to appreciate the realness of it, and then a flood of heart wrenching sadness overcame me that eventually led me to question my life away from those whom I love.  But just like missing the weddings of some very close friends, it was all part of my decision to move across the world.  However, I will forever miss the tail-wagging, unconditional, slightly sideways greeting that Faggie Maggie gave me every time I came home.  I am accepting donations to build her a Ho Chi Minh-type mausoleum, only bigger and open for longer hours.

I’m sure you are as tired of reading as I am of writing, so I will quickly conclude with the assurance that I am still happy and venturesome in Vietnam.  I was assigned new classes and now realize how much my teaching skills have improved.  My new thing is to have all the students each pick an English name and to give me a Vietnamese name.  The names they choose are random and hilarious.  When an Asian Bob sits next to a female Harold, I tend to lose it.  One class gave me the Vietnamese name Long, which means dragon.  That was cool before I wrote it on the board, but used the wrong tone over the o so that it instead meant “body hair”.  THAT is why they were laughing so hard.  I still play the dating game anytime I can, and just last night I acquired a new classroom gem.  The students were asking me how to spell certain adjectives to describe their perfect man/woman, like intelligent, beautiful, and successful.  One older man, however, asked me how to spell dangerous and, ...stinky.  I didn’t ask.

I hope the summer finds you all doing well.  I celebrated the Fourth of July by throwing a house party that included beer pong and flip cup with American beer.  Cuc, the cleaning lady, wasn’t so flag-waving on July 5.  Talk to you all again soon.

P.S.  I saw a Vietnamese midget today, and they are just as frightening over here as they are back home.