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.
