The Fireworks Explosion

NOTE: This was originally a facebook note, but due to the aftermath, I have decided to share it on here. The note was written Wednesday evening immediately after I got word of what actually went down, so the timeline is a bit screwed up and I have put in clarifications where needed. Here the note is in its entirety;

We all know that I love fireworks, so this story is very special to me.

For those that are unaware, Hanoi is celebrating its 1000 year anniversary this week and there are many events around Hanoi making it almost impossible to get anywhere. The grand finale of the 10 day festival is a massive fireworks display to be spread out over 30 locations throughout the city of Hanoi. One of the places that events are being held (including the largest of the 30 fireworks displays) is My Dinh Stadium. My Dinh (pronounced like “me ding”) Stadium is the largest stadium in the country, at only 40,000 by the way. I currently work in a school across the street from the stadium, which is located inside the national swimming complex. There is literally an Olympic size pool on either side of the school, which is pretty interesting.

Anyway, I was receiving my salary this (Wednesday) morning on the fourth floor of the school, when the whole building started shaking and there was a noise like a cannon was going off. It initially made me think of what a bomb might sound like if it landed close by. The accountants, all of whom were women, started giggling with the glee that only Asian women can pull off and ran out of the office. I naturally followed them, this whole time the building was still shaking and the noise continued.

The word for fireworks in Vietnamese literally translates to “sky flowers” and when we got over to a large window overlooking the stadium all of them began shouting “SKY FLOWERS!!!” and asking me how to actually say it in English.

Except there was a problem; there certainly were some fireworks, but it REALLY didn’t look right. First off they were going off very low, second the noise they were making was much too loud for just regular fireworks, especially since we were a considerable distance away, and finally there was a huge 9-11 style cloud of smoke billowing from the stadium.

My response was “holy shit!” while the accountants were saying things like “oh they look so much prettier at night” One of them asked me if I thought it was exciting, and I said, “ummm it isn’t supposed to look like that, I really hope someone didn’t die”

After receiving my salary I left the aquatics complex and across the very wide street, the entire stadium was sealed off and the giant cloud was still there. However, I quickly forgot the incident as I had to deal with the traffic, which is an adventure all its own every single day. Then this evening George asked me if I had been watching the news and said that 2 shipping containers of fireworks had exploded in My Dinh Stadium killing four people at 11:30am, the same time I was receiving my salary. He sent me the link below, which did not capture the explosion but shows the 9-11 cloud coming out of the stadium. My favorite part of the video is when the guy says “Oi Gioi Oi!” or “Oh my God!”
Video immediately after the initial explosion (this is basically what I witnessed but from a higher vantage point a bit further away)

The actual cause of the blast is not yet known, but my guess is that it was a security guard smoking a cigarette nearby.

It is a good thing I had to get paid today, as the explosion would have taken place right as I was passing the stadium on a normal day. It was pretty crazy to say the least.

Epilogue:
Initially there were no official reports that anyone had died, however it is now official that 4 people did indeed perish in the blast. Considering that three of the victims were foreigners (apparently working for a pyrotechnics company) it was kind of hard to deny everything. Word on the street is that there were many more deaths/injuries, and that it was three shipping containers not two, but all that is obviously unverified. Today (Friday, two days after the tragedy) it was announced that 29 of the 30 sites would no longer have a fireworks display on Sunday, the exception being My Dinh stadium, the very site where this brouhaha occurred. Since I am going on vacation this week, I will be missing the finale, which has obviously been scaled back considerably, but I was one of the few to witness what has quickly become the news story of the week here in Hanoi.

Below are some links to news stories related to the event
The AP’s initial report Note the last sentence “Witnesses say the blast shook buildings and shattered windows.” I wasn’t exaggerating.

Story confirming 2 German citizens were killed

Article confirming the cancellation of the fireworks shows

The World Cup in Vietnam

So it has been a while since my last post and I am sure many of you have been wondering what I have been up to. Well, working for one… A LOT. I figure now is a good a time as any to put up something new, in this case a post about the world cup. Like most Americans, growing up I couldn’t care less about soccer, the only time I watched was during the world cup and I rarely rooted for America, because seriously, what was the point? There wasn’t going to be any parties and certainly nothing like I experienced a year and a half ago in Vietnam. That being said, this year is much, much different.

Everyone here is into soccer, and the biggest league is English Premier League, so they love them some England. Unfortunately most of them are Manchester United fans (which is kinda like rooting for the Yankees if you aren’t from NY). There are also a good number of English expats in Hanoi, so all of a sudden I am hearing a lot of trash talk. Well I am not just going to let my country get bad mouthed like that, especially by some crusty British expats who think their food is the best in the world, or some Vietnamese guys who think Wayne Rooney is the greatest thing since sliced bread (guy is a tool if you ask me). With this in mind I started slinging mud right back and pretty soon, I had “football fever”

In my adult classes, I now regularly discuss the world cup. In my kid classes, I have them play soccer and answer English questions. The last few weeks have been full of excitement. The games here begin at 6:30pm and the late ones end at about 3:30am. So a lot of it is in prime time. Every night you drive by buildings and see games on in the windows, people wearing the jersey of their favorite team, and TV’s that have been moved outside so that those who have street side food stands can watch as well.

As most of you know the USA has just won group C, beating out England. If you don’t know, this is surprising. But it is not half as surprising as some of the other games have been (ie Germany losing to Serbia, Spain losing to Switzerland and Italy tying New Zealand). Yet the two teams I said would reach the final (Holland and Argentina) have won all their games. This is also something I continuously bring up to my classes. My favorite defeat has been that of France, as it has allowed me to make fun of them using a French accent.

There have been so many great moments for the US, winning at practically the last second vs Algeria, Dempsey getting hit in the face and keeping on playing, and our coach Bill Bradley, quite possibly the fittest 53 year old alive, standing there in a track suit looking like he is ready to take the field, while the other coaches sit around in suits and ties. All of this is very American. Even our first goal brought back memories of England’s simple mistakes that led to the founding of our nation. I don’t know how much longer the US will be in the tournament, but I have had a great time cheering them on. It is strange that it took moving half way across the world to get so excited about US soccer, but then again maybe that is appropriate.

While I am on the topic, I have started wondering why it is that the US is not that into this game. Granted we don’t dig ties, but that just requires a rule change. One of the most common complaints is that the game is 90 minutes and that takes too long. But think about an American football game, because they stop all the time, they end up taking three hours, and with a 15 minute (or so) half time, and only about 5 minutes of stoppage time a soccer match is really only a little more than 2 hours and is very quickly paced with a lot less rules that American football. I recently taught a group of teenagers for their last week of school. Instead of actually teaching, I showed them how to play American football, but they got bored with all the stopping and changed it into a quicker paced game with no stopping.

In short, the atmosphere here is like how the USA gets during the NCAA basketball tournament, only X 10 and there are matches every day. How can you not get excited about that? Especially when your country is doing so well!

The Third Mountain Adventure

I know I have not written in awhile. There are reasons for this, primarily because at one point I was simply too busy to write anything, and following the tragic events of the past few months, I was just not up to it.

So due to popular demand, I have decided to document my latest adventure. It is not as exciting as my previous ones, but entertaining nonetheless.

As Tet approached this year, I found myself short on cash for a number of reasons. I had planned to spend the week I had off for new year in the central part of the country relaxing on the beach, getting a suit tailored and driving on what the British motor adventure show “Top Gear” once referred to as “one of the best coast roads in the world” unfortunately, that was not in the cards.

So instead I agreed to go with George once again to his wife’s family’s house in the mountains. This was not altogether a bad prospect, The weather during the preceding week was unseasonably warm (80’s) and we had planned on doing what is called the “Northwest loop” which goes from Hanoi all over the northwest part of the country and back again. There was also the prospect of buffalo riding and rat hunting which I am never one to turn down.

We rented bikes that would be more suited for our journey than the ones we ride on in the city. George rented a dirt bike and I rented a more powerful semi automatic scooter equipped with saddle bags which were pretty badass.

Alas, the perfect road trip was not to be. The weather changed on the day we departed, and the ride proved to be cold and miserable. About halfway there George got lost. To his credit he wasn’t thinking clearly because he was almost hit by an oncoming bus. Once we were back on the right path, we came to a small town. Having never driven with saddle bags before, I was being extremely careful, however that was not enough and in this small town I was hit by some idiot who was apparently blind and could not see that I had saddlebags. This caused me to crash, though I was only going 5 mph and I was not hurt badly. George upon hearing me crash, turned around and hit a pothole or something and crashed as well. This turned out to be kind of a good thing because we were going the wrong way.

So now I was cold, a little banged up, and really pissed off. We also had quite a long way to go including 30 km of bumpy dirt roads, hadn’t stopped to eat, and were probably going to miss the pig slaughter, which was the reason we left when we did (5:00am).

We arrived to find we did indeed miss the pig slaughter, we also found out that had we been there a few days prior we would have seen a DOG slaughter, which brings me to my next point…

I have written about this before; dog meat is very popular in Vietnam. Now that I know a few Vietnamese words, I can tell a dog restaurant when I see one, and my God were there a lot of them on the ride up. I think I saw more dog restaurants than Pho shops. The reason for this is because dogs are more common than pigs, and certainly cattle and these people are dirt poor. So if they want meat, they have few choices and dog happens to be one of them. George’s wife’s family has many dogs and pretty much all of them will end up being eaten. While this is shocking to most Americans, it actually makes a lot of sense. Vietnamese, at least in the countryside, don’t think of dogs as the companions that we do.

It is a subject I like to talk about in class, even with the kids, I once drew a picture of a pacman like thing eating a dog in one of my kids classes which they all thought was hysterical. When I bring eating dog up adult classes there is usually a discussion that follows about how Americans would find dog meat disgusting, to which the Vietnamese always respond “This is because Americans think of dogs like their friends” I usually go on to explain how some Americans even think of dogs as their children which usually gives way to baby eating jokes. Anyway back to the story…

We spent the rest of the day relaxing, as best we could in the environment we were in. don’t get me wrong, the place is very peaceful, but it is certainly a step back a century or two. George’s wife’s parents house is very small, not even as big as most hunting cabins. It is also made out of hardened mud, wood and scrap metal. It’s floors are concrete and I am pretty sure the windows don’t have glass. There are three doors, which I guess could be referred to as French doors, but that might infer a level of class that this place just doesn’t have; these doors are left open during the day, so the house really is just an extension of outside. The kitchen is separate from the house and is basically just a large room with a fire pit in the middle and knives and tool/weapons of all descriptions hanging on the walls. Behind the kitchen are the bathroom and pig pens. Believe it or not this is one of the better houses in the area; some are just straw huts, which is something I will get to in a little while.

Sleeping in this place is kind of like camping. You are basically outside (I was actually outside, my bed was on a raised platform underneath a small roof) and the “mattress” is a thin blanket rolled over wood. It was also cold while we were there, though not as bad as last year. It also sucks because the damn rooster starts crowing at like 3am.

This brings us to New Year itself. Because I couldn’t sleep I got to see some of this in action. The Dad got up at midnight (having gone to bed at about 9pm) and did a little bow thing with incense outside the house which I assume is Buddhist in practice. Then a bunch of people lit off firecrackers and stuff across the mountain and the Dad went back in the house and turned on the TV and watched the fireworks in Hanoi and Saigon for a few minutes, waking up everyone else in the process.

Yes I did say TV, this family is an example of a very strange phenomenon in the third world, at least it seems that way to us. Despite not having indoor plumbing or a toilet, these people have cell phones satellite TV and a DVD player. Basically they leap frogged over the other technology and started with the new stuff.

New Years was boring, what basically happens, is you go to a bunch of houses, eat a lot, drink a lot and exchange money. Because I have experienced what happens when you drink with Vietnamese people, and didn’t want to be throwing up in a place that has no running water, much less Pepto, I laid off the booze. While this might have been mildly interesting for someone who is unfamiliar with Vietnamese culture, it was unbearable for someone like me. Think if you came to America for Christmas, didn’t speak English, and all anybody was doing was talking, drinking and eating… seriously, they don’t even play games… the food was pretty good though.

I was not altogether displeased. This year the first day of Tet fell on Valentine’s Day; due to the fact that I was nowhere near civilization, and it was the most important holiday of the year, this meant that no one was celebrating that awful greeting card holiday. George’s wife brought it up once, she said (in Vietnamese) “It’s Vali’s day” George’s reply was “Great, I don’t care, and you are saying it wrong”

Because it was so boring, George decided to mess around with his dirt bike. After conquering a treacherous mountain road, seen in this video George took he decided to try and conquer the mountain itself. This turned out to be a bad idea, because he crashed and nearly broke his hand. If you are counting, that is George 2 me 1 in terms of accidents; which is the first time that has ever happened on a trip.

During this time we found out that part of the road we were to travel was under construction, and practically undrivable. Not wanting to kill ourselves, or spend 10 hours dealing with crappy road conditions, we decided to shorten our trip to the small mountain town of Sapa, and back to the wife’s village. I was also pleased with this idea because it had been cold and grey and I was pretty sure my patience with George would be tested to its limits had we proceeded as planned.

On the day after Tet (Monday), when we had planned to set out, it was raining, wonderful. It was at this time we were visited by a man who lived in a straw hut on top of the mountain the wife’s house is on. This man had ready no access to water of any kind and I am pretty sure his bathroom is the woods. He came in very hungover and announced that his wife was gone and he couldn’t find her. Apparently she had left at some point the previous day after yelling at him because he was drunk and throwing things. He proceeded to pass out and when he awoke she was gone… this was not the first time this had happened. The Dad gave his some hair of the dog and I impressed him with my skills at smoking thouc lao. George and I started making jokes ala Chris Farley “When you’re living in a van down by the river” but replacing it with “When you’re living in a hut on top of a mountain”

Soon it stopped raining and we set out for Sapa. The roads (aside from the first part which were dirt and very narrow) were amazing, the closest I have seen to western roads in Vietnam. They were so good that George almost fell asleep. However when we started up the mountain to Sapa, the only place in Vietnam it ever snows, things started to change. It got very cold and we basically drove into a rain cloud, while we were going up a mountain. During this time George lost control, went off the road, and fortunately regained it before he went off a cliff. On the way up we encountered a helmet that was completely smashed with blood around it, and saw three accidents.

When we got into town, the cloud was still there so it was foggy as hell. Apparently Sapa is a very pretty town when it isn’t foggy and you can actually see the landscape, but while I was there, I couldn’t see anything. So our time in Sapa wasn’t really all that exciting… it was really cold, and there wasn’t really anything to do except eat and shop. Sapa happens to be home to many ethnic minorities, including the Hmong people, made famous by the Clint Eastwood movie Gran Torino. These people sell all kinds of homemade clothes and all prices are negotiable. George had told me the most I should pay for a Hmong hat, these really cool and very Asian looking hats, was 15,000 or about $0.75. I had a lot of fun talking the people down in price, one even started at 60,000 and I got her down to 15,000. The most interesting thing I bought was a pair of leg warmers, (which I bought as a gift for someone who I want to be surprised) the woman actually took them off her legs (they were a wrap) and sold them to me.

We stayed in Sapa for about two days, the food was good and I bought a lot of stuff that is really hard to find in Hanoi. On Wednesday we had what was supposed to be a 5 hour journey back to the wife’s village… yeah that didn’t happen. The trip was fricken crazy, we started off still in the rain cloud and then we had to go through another rain cloud. The whole business of going up and down mountains on wet roads was the closest I have come to skiing in Vietnam. There were plenty of accidents that we witnessed including one that happened in front of me but behind George. We were fortunate enough not to have any accidents. Getting lost, however, was something we would be doing a lot of. The first problem George had was screwing up where we were going… for some reason he thought we were going to Bac Ha when we were really going to Bao Ha. Now some may say this is an excusable mistake because the names are so close, however George 1. Knew where Bac Ha was, 2. Should have been able to distinguish between the two because his first Vietnamese girl friend’s name was Bao and 3. Bac Ha is a word that is actually used quite regularly in Vietnam (it is on some of the busses in Hanoi), and apparently is another name for mint.

While I was already pissed we got lost we also got wet due to a rain cloud that we had to go back through and it was cold. But that wasn’t it we proceeded to get lost twice more, once on the final series of narrow dirt roads with rice paddies, random buffalo and cobras (in the paddies). The trip ended up taking 10 hours and we didn’t eat during that entire time… well we had breakfast but that was it. I was pretty pissed off by the time we got back, just in time to fall asleep on the hard beds we were staying on.

Right before bed, George got a call from his wife who was somewhere in the village itself. Apparently her oldest brother, who is about 16, was engaged in some sort of male dominance ritual at the end of his current girlfriend’s driveway with some other young rapscallion and she predicted a fight would commence soon. George grabbed a collapsible metal hiking cane; I had bought for the boys to hunt rats with, and took off like a bat out of hell down the mountain. He returned 20 minutes later to explain that there had not been a fight because in addition to George, The dad and one of the uncles showed up and the other kid ran away. George attempted to chase him but was not fast enough with his wife on the back of his dirt bike. When everyone returned home, it was discovered that the girl in question was, according to everyone in the family, fat and ugly (yes, they actually said she was ugly). George then told the brother who started it all that if he (George) had, had to fight, he would have beat up the brother as well for getting in fight over a fat and ugly girl.

The next day we were supposed to go home, but George’s wife had gone to see some fortune teller whose job entailed shaking up a bunch of sticks in a can and when one fell out reading it as your fortune. The stick that fell out said George would get into an accident if he went home on Thursday (the day we were supposed to go home). So we had to stay an extra day because of this voodoo bullshit. Since we had nothing else to do, we tried to buy some bikes that we could turn for a healthy profit in Hanoi, but even that turned out to be a dead end. I got to go water buffalo riding though, and this time was short but very interesting because the buffalo were on top of the mountain.

At some point during the day I had to go to the bathroom… #2. Usually, if you are a guy and have to go #1 you just walk up to a tree and do it. I have always planned that if I needed to go #2 that I would find a stump in the woods and deal with it that way. But I was freaking out about the cobras more than usual this trip and didn’t want one to catch me, literally, with my pants down. So I gave up and used the bathroom.

The bathroom… this might be the scariest thing some of you have ever seen. I would call it an outhouse, but most outhouses have something that resembles a toilet inside them. This thing is more like a latrine that the army would use. It is made out of wood and tarp and is maybe a meter square. About three quarters of it is cement floor and the other quarter is dirt that is basically the side of the mountain. I won’t spell out what you have to do but I am sure you can picture it well enough. This thing is about as gross as it gets. As you might expect they don’t really have running water either what they do have is a long PVC pipe that runs from a spring on top of the mountain to a large stone basin near the bathroom.

We left the next day (Friday), at like 8am. Fortunately we had good roads the whole way back and didn’t crash. The one interesting thing that did happen was when a car came into our lane (they had been doing this all day and the only thing you can really do is get out of their way as quick as you can). This time George reached out and slammed its mirror so hard into the window that it cracked. All in all the trip kinda sucked but it did get my mind off of things. Not as exciting as my previous adventures, but what are you gunna do?

Teaching part 3

I haven’t written in awhile, primarily because I have had nothing to say, I mean I am pretty well settled in now and have a routine. Granted my routine differs greatly from most people in America but it is a routine none the less and is not really that exciting. However to show I am not dead I might as well write about something, and since the vast majority of what I have been doing involves teaching, I will just go with that.

After several months of not having a clear schedule or knowing how I was going to get money, I have finally settled into a few really good teaching jobs. The first job is a corporate one I have had since February. I wear a suit and teach employees of a construction company. There are two classes; one is a higher level class with employees who are a few years older than me, and there is a beginner class with civil engineers who are pushing 60. The beginner class is actually the better of the two, my boss, Mr Zu (how it is said not spelled) sits in and translates when necessary. This is good because while their level is very low, they have a lot to say. The reason I like them so much is because they pretty much take the conversation to the gutter whenever they get the opportunity, which gets them laughing hysterically and allows me to teach words like “brothel” as one of the students apparently went to one in Thailand and announced this to the whole class.

In contrast to the 60 year old men, I have a class at another center with what are known as “super tots” they range from 4-6 years old, and yes they are very cute. In fact Asian kids are much cuter than white kids and I suspect I will think most children are very ugly when I return to the states. The super tots are not very smart and forget the words about five seconds after you teach them… but my super tots think I am awesome and that is good because it means I get to keep my job which is what really matters. I am actually really happy with the super tots center for a great many reasons; I get to teach older kids as well, they know how to treat foreign teachers, they are professional, while providing a laid back atmosphere, which means I get to wear shorts! (This is awesome because the average temp has been about 95 for the last month) and the teaching assistants are all very attractive women under the age of 27, and none of the foreign teachers look like pedophiles (finding a center without creepy foreign teachers is DAMN hard).

I also teach 3 Japanese siblings in private lessons, one day for each kid. They have really awesome names like Takahito and Akahito. I really enjoy saying their names and asking them to write really fast in Japanese (which is funny as hell to see if you never have). Takahito is 9 and an OK student Akahito is 7 and a really funny little kid, but the girl is like 14 and has an attitude, I have started teaching her about art history in English because it is really the only thing she seems interested in.

The last center I am at is one I got through another teacher at the construction company who is Vietnamese and teaches grammar there. Her friend owns this low end center in a weird part of town that I have to take a bridge that we bombed the hell out of during the war to get to. I am looking to quit this center because the guy is really bugging me and doesn’t know how to deal with foreigners. But the good thing is that this center taught me how to teach kids with games, and now I am really good at it. This really surprised me because I spent the last 5 years trying to stay as far away from children as I could. But they think I am really funny and like my pirate wristband. This center had a graduation thing about two weeks ago that I wore my suit vest with a tie for and one of the kids comes up to me and says “Mr. Matt I think you are right, you really are a pirate!” that was awesome.

One last note about the kids, when we think of Vietnamese people we tend to think that most of them are small, and this is generally true, but DAMN are some of these kids big! Seriously, there are some 12 year olds, even at the poor kids school that are almost as tall as me! I remember when George and I taught together, he tried to take candy from a girl who was 8 but looked about 12 and said “you’re too big” but she was also too fast and got away! No matter what there is always at least one fat kid in class, and the great thing is you can call them fat because it isn’t culturally taboo. But seriously, these people need to keep an eye on their kids diets or they are going to turn into Americans, and they don’t have the health care system to deal with that.

That is all for now, more updates coming soon.

Ha Long Bay is Overrated

About three months ago I was having breakfast in this hippie restaurant that serves French toast with honey, when I overheard two couples talking about Ha Long Bay. The first couple asked the second “have you been to Ha Long bay yet?” “Yes” the second couple replied “It was very enlightening”
As I tired not laugh at the stereotypical hippie comment; I thought to myself that, despite never having been to Ha Long Bay, my definition of enlightening was probably quite different than this hippie couple’s and that they were probably really stupid.

After having gone to Ha Long Bay I can confirm that this is indeed the case. The place is about as “enlightening” as Mackinac Island. Yes it is pretty, yes there is some history there, and it is great to go if you have never been or someone else is paying for everything (which is what happened the last time I went to Mackinac Island and will happen if I go back to Ha Long Bay) but seriously, it is all just an overpriced tourist trap, get over it. Just look at this if you don’t believe me…

Gross

Before I start into my rant about the place let me explain how a Ha Long Bay (Long is pronounced Laom BTW) trip works. You take a bus from Hanoi to Ha Long Bay and along the way you stop at a sweatshop that is called a “humanitarian center” and claims to give a portion of the profits to the workers who are disabled (this is BS, they don’t get any of the profit and are paid $50 a month plus free housing and meals). Then you go to the bay, which is a collection of small mountainous islands, get on a huge boat that is REALLY nice and get shuttled around the bay for 2-3 days while staying on the boat. The rooms you stay in are huge for a boat, compared to say, a 42 foot catamaran. Then you go back by bus and stop at another sweatshop. We skipped the bus and went by motorbike, though we stopped at the sweatshops but didn’t buy anything. George used to be a tour guide for Ha Long Bay so he knows where these places are as well as a lot about the bay itself.

Now for the rant. First off lets talk about the prices… even at the rest stops leading up to it everything is at least three times as much as it would be in Hanoi. It was like being back in America, without actually being back in America. Then the food they give you on the boat is not even enough to get you full and the drinks cost more than five times what they should.

Next there is the tourists… maybe this is just me but when I visit a place I want to be around people who actually live in that place as opposed to a bunch of people who are visiting just like me. Like Mackinac Island, the only people that you meet in Ha Long Bay are tourists. Sure there are a few locals who live in the islands, primarily to make money off the tourists, but that is it. There is also something to be said about the type of tourists who visit Vietnam, they feel Vietnamese people have been screwed so royally that they have to hold them to some kind of superhuman elevation or they think that Vietnamese people are incapable of being jerks. The problem with this is that Vietnamese people are pretty much like people everywhere, some are good people who will help you out, but most are in it for themselves. In my book anyone who is trying to overcharge you doesn’t deserve any respect, which would be most Vietnamese people in Ha Long Bay. This difference in opinion makes it very hard for people like me and George to get along with tourist (unless we are being paid to). It also doesn’t help that we were raised in Traverse City where you are taught to hate tourists at a very young age.

On that note a number of funny things happened while we were on the trip that shows how George and I differ from the tourists. In the Old Quarter of Hanoi, there are about 1 million motorbike taxi’s or xe om’s. The only English phrase any of them know is “you go motorbike” but they all screw up motorbike and it comes out “moto buy”. After hearing this 6 million times a week it gets pretty damn annoying, especially when you have no intention of going moto buy. So George and I make fun of them whenever we can, I also tell my corporate class to pronounce motorbike correctly because they are important people and they don’t want to look like an uneducated xe om. Now with that backstory out of the way, wherever you go in Ha Long Bay you are constantly hounded by people in little rowboats trying to sell you overpriced goods. Their line is “You buy!” so George responded “You go moto buy!” then the boat person responds “buy” and George says “No MOTO BUY!” and we laugh… then the tourists look at us like we are hellspawn or something.

The second incident happened when George was talking with someone he knew from back in his tour guide days. He was at the end of a bridge or something and was obviously engaged in conversation in Vietnamese with his friend and out of the way of everyone else. Some stupid tour guide who was Vietnamese took exception to this and yelled at him. George then yelled at the guy in Vietnamese and finished his conversation. After he was done and moved further down the dock the stupid Vietnamese tour guide (on a different tour then us) came up to George and started cursing at him in English, George cursed back and told him he was going to call the guy’s manager. The guy was pretty big and I am kinda surprised one of them didn’t end up in the water. Again there were many stares following the incident.

The other problem, and this is what really makes me wonder how those hippies could have had an “enlightening” experience, is how polluted the place is. It is especially surprising as Ha Long is an UNESCO world heritage site. There is garbage all over in the water, there are about 500 boats with huge engines spewing crap in the water, and there is constant smog (though apparently this comes and goes and is China’s fault) in the air. Really, it is pretty hard not to be disgusted by what is going on, especially if you come from an area of great natural beauty. I can honestly say Ha Long Bay looks prettier on camera than it does in person.

All this being said Ha Long does have it’s high points. There is a cave that is really big, pretty cool and they have done a great job lighting. There is an island that has a decent beach and a neat look out hut at the top of the mountain. Plus we got to see a bunch of cargo ships like the ones being hijacked in Somalia and I got to be on a boat and talk like a Pirate! Yarr!

Kayaking was also fun. I wasn’t going to go at first because George said it was going to cost a bunch of money. But apparently the company got some cheap Kayaks, that were more like glorified paddle boards so we could go for free. The kayaking was an optional way of seeing Monkey Island (just like the computer game about pirates!). You could go by Kayak or sit in a rowboat, the journey included going through a cave. George brought his new puppy Me Chew (how it is said) on the trip and he went with me in the kayak (I also held him while he went “swimming”). While at monkey island we actually saw a monkey! George’s wife Quyen immediately took a liking to the monkey and George soon announced that we would be buying a monkey. “OK!” I replied, our house is turning into a menagerie.

The trip back was also eventful because I got lost right outside Hanoi and had to find my way back by asking random people. So since something went wrong I guess you could technically call the trip an adventure but that is kind of pushing it… I mean really aside from maybe 3 times when cars almost hit George or I head on, there were no brushes with death… Where is the adventure in that?

I will say this though… If I come back next fall, I am going to be a Ha Long tour guide in addition to teaching English. Why? Even though I hated the trip the tour guide gig is pretty good. Four days a week and free room and board on the ship and all I have to do is keep people happy. Plus all they have now are Vietnamese guides who are pretty dumb and speak little English. Also like I said, I would be on a boat and that really feeds my piratical appetite.

Perfume Pagoda and Odysseus the Slow Loris

This Saturday was some Ancient King’s birthday and all of Vietnam closed. Since we just moved to a new house, were without internet, and since it had been a while since we had embarked on an adventure of any kind, George and I figured it was time to get out of the house and have a little adventure. George suggested the Perfume Pagoda, which is about two hours ride from Hanoi, the center of Buddhism in Vietnam and is a very cool place for a day trip.

We ventured out at about 8:00am and immediately hit a ton of traffic. Once we were out of the city things got better, but not really. You see instead of a traffic jam, which just causes a headache, we had to deal with truck drivers which can cause a hell of a lot more than that. Truck drivers in Vietnam are insane, lanes mean nothing to them. So they go speeding along, while hopped up on cheap homemade speed I might add, and you have to stay the hell out of their way, which means being watchful for these crazy bastards every second of the drive. We even saw a rice truck, which had hit a motorbike, spun out and flipped over into, of all things, a rice field. It wasn’t a pretty sight. We also passed a bunch of horse and water buffalo carts.

Anyway, the Perfume Pagoda works like this (and for the record the whole thing reminded me of that futurama when Bender became god and Frey had to go to that temple to find him, and sorry for those who don’t get the reference because I am going to bring it up a lot); you go to this little town along a river where there are about a million rowboats. Then you find someone who will rent you out a rowboat and rowboat guy, and buy tickets for the pagoda. Then you get into the rowboat and the rowboat guy (our rowboat guy was missing a tooth *insert theme from “Deliverance” here*) rows you out to this little island, or something. It takes about an hour but it is very pretty and is surrounded by mountains. It was also great to be on the water again, since I am after all, a pirate. Since that day was a holiday there were a TON of other people going too, almost all of whom were Vietnamese, some of the rowboats were packed so full I was sure they would sink. Anyway once you get there you are bombarded with people selling hot dogs and dog meat among other things. George says they usually are not there but since there were to be so many tourists today, they all came out of the woodwork.

The Perfume Pagoda itself is a cave on top of a mountain, but there are about four other temples on the way up, the most impressive of which is called “Heaven’s Kitchen” which features warrior Buddha’s, many handed Buddha’s and lot’s of Animal Statues. The cool thing about temples is the way they use Animals, there is almost always one Animal sculpture or painting in a temple, and Buddha help you if you actually kill an animal, even an ant in the temple, someone is libel to freak out.

After taking some pictures with the animals, we continued our journey up the mountain. There are two ways to go up the mountain, you can walk… or take the brand new Danish made cable car (Again I thought of futurama and the rickety bridge that turned into a moving walkway). We chose to walk up and take the cable car down. Because this was the holiday, there were booths the up the mountain selling everything you can possibly imagine, including snake wine (literally rice wine with a snake in it), a toy spiderman on a skateboard, piggy banks and my personal favorite, toy guns. Because you know all of those things promote traditional Buddhist values… and also keep kids content while their parents visit a boring temple. There was also trash all over the place, again adhering to strict Buddhist principles in what is basically Vietnam’s Vatican City.

When we got to the top, George and his wife stopped at some Cafe, while I continued on to the Pagoda. George has seen it about 15 times and didn’t want to make the walk down, which is treacherous, again reminding me of futurama. The Pagoda was certainly interesting… it is a huge cave with little alters all over the place. Because I am not Buddhist and don’t know any of the little things you are supposed to do I just sorta walked around and looked at stuff, which again reminded me of Frey in the futurama episode burping as he blew past the sherpa who was “not holy enough to enter” Like I said it was interesting, especially seeing the neons they had set up behind some of the statues. I would like to see what would happen if the Vatican installed a neon cross in St Peter’s.

After I came out it was time to begin our journey home, which we did by cable car. When we got to the bottom we noticed something we had seen on the way up, LEMURS! Or at least that was what they looked like, we had no idea what they were… but George wanted to buy one. George has always been an animal lover, and likes to keep weird pets (he once had a monkey). So it was only natural with a new house that he want to buy a pet for it. So he started to bargain. They started at 700,000 or about $36 (the exchange rate is insane) and George talked them down to 250,000 or around $15. I named him Odysseus as we bought him on our journey home.

We then ate at what George claims is the only decent restaurant on the mountain and showed off our new pet. The Vietnamese call him a coo-lee, which apparently is also a racial slur for a Chinese person and a derogatory name for a porter. We then took the rowboat back to our motorbikes. The drive home was even scarier than the mountain driving, because half of it was in the dark with the dump trucks, and their methed out drivers, flying at us at 50 mph on a narrow road. But we did get back in one piece.

Afterward:
As far as the pagoda trip is concerned, it was quite the little adventure, it was very pretty and the rowboat ride and mountain climb made it much more of a “pilgrimage” than getting on the Roman metro and seeing the Vatican (which I have also been to and is indeed very beautiful). Still, I don’t think the spiderman vendors were necessary… also while it is quite easy to find a Vatican City flag right outside Vatican City, I didn’t see a single booth selling Buddhist flags, very disappointing… Though you can’t buy exotic animals in Rome.

We later found out that our pet is a Slow Loris, which is listed as a “Vulnerable” species in Vietnam. Apparently, in addition to it’s eyes being used for traditional medicine, it is also put into rice wine and served to pregnant women to ease the pain childbirth, which as we all know, most reputable medical professionals would agree with. George’s wife also says that their meat is very tasty… so for those of you that have a problem with this we most likely saved him from a very bad fate indeed. On that note, apparently Japanese women find these things to be very fashionable pets and will pay up to $4,500 for them, so if anyone knows any reliable Japanese smugglers, please let me know.

Nyeah Quay (the countryside people) part 1

I haven’t written in a while, primarily because nothing exciting has been happening. Though this might be a good thing because it means I am OK and not dead or injured. On that note my leg has healed fine and I am working more with several more job prospects on the way. But what I want to talk about now, and what will no doubt become a recurring theme, are the countryside people of Vietnam.

I have brought this topic up several times, in the mountain adventure, and the post about giving aid to third world nations on the political blog. As I have also mentioned, George’s wife, Quyen, is from the countryside as is Me Sow Baw Girl. What follows are some stories about life in the countryside and how it compares to the countryside of America.

For those that don’t know, George and I grew up in a rural area of Michigan. While Traverse City is certainly turning into the equivalent of a suburb without a major city, where we live is very much country. From my house, which is carved into the woods, you can see three barns and in the early spring the smell of cow manure permeates the air. Though my father doesn’t hunt, we had three guns in the house and George’s family had enough to invade a small country. Many of the kids we grew up with could drive a snowmobile well before they left grade school. I even had a friend whose father had a garage that was bigger than his house. Some of my fondest memories of high school were going two tracking with George, including the time he announced that he had obtained a Vietnamese girlfriend, which is what started this whole debacle.

If you head south of town, to areas like Kingsley, the number of people mainstream America would refer to as “redneck” grows exponentially. Personally that title is something I wear with pride, especially when dealing with stuck up suburbanites.

While there are many intelligent, hardworking, and law abiding people who inhabit these areas, who could be more aptly described as “country” than “redneck.” They are outnumbered probably 5 to 1. It is really no different in Vietnam.

This summer my cousin was living in Kingsley where his girlfriend worked at what could very much be considered a redneck bar, which I frequented a few times and had a blast. There were lots of fights, lots of drunks and lots of drama. Also most of these people considered themselves “good Christians” and were appalled by the idea that someone might be an atheist. Despite this nearly all the men, as well as many women, were frequently infidelitous to their spouses/girlfriends and nearly every night my cousin’s girlfriend had to fend off one married or taken man. The drama was also out of control, the things I heard these people say to their supposed friends, were so appalling that I could not even imagine a remotely similar exchange between my friends from U of M.

I bring all this up because the parallels to life in the countryside of Vietnam are pretty much equal. Here are a few examples. First Quyen’s father. The man kicked us out of the house at 5:00pm on what amounts to Christmas eve because the homeless kid we brought didn’t have proper manners. Seriously, I know guys that would do this up north. They are dumb and arrogant, and give everyone from the sticks a bad name. Then there is the spousal abuse, for some reason redneck guys, who with their big trucks and macho attitudes are trying to compensate for something, and often do so by hitting or verbally abusing their wives and girlfriends. This guy is no different apparently he went after Quyen’s mother with a knife or stick or something when she didn’t obey him. He also did not let her leave the house, even to go to temple. Fortunately, she has since moved to the “house” pictured below, which George helped her buy for $500.

The temple thing also brings up a good comparison, in the superstition category. Buddhism, at least how these people practice it, is absolutely absurd. If you love someone no matter how well you get along with them, or how good of a person you are, and your stars don’t line up, which are big balls of gas by the way, you can’t get married. Kind of like the religious right’s belief that if you love someone no matter how well you get along with them, or how good of a person you are, and they are of the same sex, you can’t get married. The luck thing is also ridiculous, certain things bring good luck certain things bring bad luck. I got news, that crap has little to do with the outcome of anything.

I have to say though the kids and women here are much worse off than those in America. Though I have met very few Vietnamese men who are not legitimate alcoholics and smoke like chimneys, women rarely engage in these activities, not because they don’t want to, but because it is taboo. As I mentioned in 25 things about Vietnam school is not free for everyone, especially in the countryside. George, his wife, Me Sow Baw girl, and I went out for coffee (on the site of the old Hanoi Hilton prison, part of which is now an office tower) and were discussing our various backgrounds. Quyen, had never been to school and prior to meeting George worked in a hotel in a resort town called Sapa, in the mountains, near her home. Me Sow Baw girl had left home at 14 to work various jobs in Hanoi.

It is very common for families to send their daughter away to make money at an early age, and expect them to send part of their income back home (the boys usually stay on the farm,or help with the family fishing operation). For those that don’t know George dropped out of high school then dropped out of the drop out school, then came to Vietnam. After hearing this (at coffee) I replied “wait am I the only one who actually graduated from high school here?” “YES!” was George’s reply then went back to discussing other matters. It reminded me of a conversation three of my college friends had walking back from a Michigan game some years back about grad school and someone said “I really wish I could put ‘valedictorian’ on these apps” to which the other two sighed “Yeah…”. I said “wait am I the only one here that WASN’T valedictorian?” “YES!” they all said in unison, and went back to talking about grad school.

Back to the drama, a recent story from Quyen’s sister, shows just how much like American rednecks these people are. Apparently what happened was this, her sister, who is pregnant and her husband were living with the husband’s family and his motorcycle was stolen. It turned out that the bike was stolen by the husband’s cousin, and sold the bike to buy heroin. Kind of like the time a kid George and I knew in elementary school, who is now in prison, stole his dad’s table saw and sold it to retool so he could buy a fifth of Captain Morgan.

Since there aren’t really any laws here, the police (who did find the bike) told the brother in law he would have to pay the man that bought the bike the money he paid the cousin for it to get it back. When the pregnant sister wanted to turn the cousin in, her husband’s Mom was so offended by the suggestion, she beat her and kicked them out of the house forcing them to live with Quyen’s Mom in the shack. I asked George how a Jerry Springeresq show would go over here, but he replied the government wouldn’t allow it.

Much like in America the more “affluent” city folk look down on these people. For example, the traditional Vietnamese Pipe and tobacco “Thouc Lao” is viewed as lower class and not smoked by anyone who considers themselves middle to upper class. I recently asked one of my corporate classes if they, or their parents smoked Thouc Lao and they reacted the way a bunch of East Coast aristocrats would if asked if they watched Nascar “cigarettes only!” was the reply. I responded “Well I like it, so I guess I am kind of nyeah quay” I was dressed nicer than any of them (a tailored suit) at the time, so they all thought this was very funny.

One final story that is sure to delight, as I mentioned in the mountain adventure, Quyen’s family’s bathroom is a hole in the ground. Quyen’s mother recently came to visit and upon seeing the “western” toilet inquired “how do you use this? it is too tall!” After reading the Mountain adventure story my Mother asked me, “So who has it better, them (nyeah quay) with a simple life, or us with a hectic one?” As Quyen’s Mom’s statement proves, the answer is most definitely US!

PS A follow up is coming soon about the good people of the countryside, this post was done primarily because I hear too many stories of how people in other countries are somehow better than Americans, when really people are pretty much the same all over.t

Live blogging Michigan vs Clemson!

Because of cbs.com I am able to watch the Michigan game online!!! so right now I am up at 6:30am drinking Vietnamese green tea smoking Thuoc Lao (the vietnamese pipe) and watching my alma mater here is a break down of my thoughts

6:39am WOOO HOO! Michigan is up 17-13 and hitting threes all over the place

6:46am closer now 22-20…

6:47am tied… Come on blue we have waited 11 years DO IT FOR BO!

6:54am Forcing turnovers and sinking baskets w00t!

6:56am UP AT THE HALF HAIL TO THE VICTORS!!!

7:00am Nothing but praise for the Wolverines from commentators

7:11am Second half about to begin, don’t get cocky guys keep up the good work

7:15am ahh the fight song first time I have heard it in months da da da da da daaah da da da, da da da da da daaah da da da, da da, da da, da da bum da bum hail to the victors valiant hail to the conquering heroes hail hail to Michigan the Leaders and best (let’s go blue) hail to the victors valiant hail to the conquering heroes hail hail to Michigan the champions of the west!

7:20am “9-2 run to open the second half It’s been 11 years and the wolverines are feeling it!!!!”

7:24am Clemson is looking very patriotic the the American flag patches… too bad it isn’t helping their game much

7:26am up 41-28 Michigan, Clemson player whose name I can’t spell out… Awesome!

7:30am still up 13, but 15 minutes left, as a true blue Michigan fan, I am still pretty nervous.

7:35am Boom goes the dynamite!

7:40am Michigan D very impressive

7:47am Clemson keeping up the pressure, don’t let them get to you guys

7:52am now is not the time to be getting fouls…

7:54am lead cut to 7… let’s go guys

7:58am up by 8 with the ball, how about something other than typical Michigan basketball where we screw everything up

8:02am SIMS FOR THE THREE!

8:05am up 15 looking good

8:07am cut to 9 slow down and play the clock already!

8:09am Christ, this isn’t looking so good any more 58-52

8:14am I really hate that I care about sports sometimes

8:16am so we might blow this

8:17am minute left, turn over, shit

8:21am And one! up 4

8:22am 27 sec left up 2

8:24am up three 13 sec

8:25am WE WIN!!!! 62-59 it’s great to be a Michigan Wolverine!!!

Will we get much further? probably not but that was great fun! Here is why Americans don’t care about soccer it is 90 minutes, as opposed to 40 and there is a chance that not a single goal will be scored, but with basketball, every second is exciting.

PS This is pretty much what goes through my head during every Michigan game ever… glad when we go up but apprehensive we will blow it

Driving part 2: Getting into accidents

Getting into accidents in a third world country is about as much fun as it sounds. About a million thoughts go through your head all at once, you get a huge rush of adrenaline and you don’t know what exactly happened after.

I have been in 6 motorbike accidents since I got here. The first two were what I call learning accidents, basically encountering something that I didn’t know about and handling it the wrong way, no one else were involved in these. The others were caused either by my doing something stupid or something getting in my way. I want to talk about two of them.

The first occurred on a main road like South Airport in Traverse, or Washtenaw in Ann Arbor. Since there are no traffic laws in this country if you want to turn left you inch your way through traffic or just gun it. As I was coming down this road some idiot was trying to do the latter. I laid on my horn down shifted and hit my breaks but I still t-boned the guy who quickly took off. As you can guess he was fine, me not so much. I flew off my bike, which was messed up and ripped my elbows up pretty bad. George came and helped get the bike to a shop. Fortunately the damages were under $5. we later had to go to his Mechanic to get the battery fixed which cost about $0.35.

The most recent accident occurred on another main road, but this time it was a dog that was to blame. The stupid little thing charged across probably five lanes of traffic and I didn’t see it until it was too late. Growing up the people I listened to about driving (i.e. not my Mother) told me if you have a choice between hitting a dog and potentially getting into an accident hit the dog. Well that may work out fine when you are driving a jeep but when you are driving a motorbike the dog messes up your steering and the bike falls on your knee, this was like a week ago and I still have a limp.

This was my knee after the accident.

It is great that motorbikes don’t cost much to repair. In total there might be $60 worth of damages that I have to pay. The costs for my injuries were even less. To be honest I am lucky not to have a lot worse. When George got into his last accident he screwed up his leg so bad he couldn’t walk for two weeks and had to go to the hospital.

To answer the question on everyone’s mind I don’t know what happened to the stupid dog, I also like that when I tell people (In America) that I hit a dog, they ask if the dog died instead of asking about me or my motorbike. Quite frankly I wish it had, because apparently it is good luck to eat dog meat after something bad has happened to you, and I can tell you right now I would have loved to fry that dog up and eat him.

P.S. The dog accident happened on Paczki day coming back from the bakery where I purchased a donut (the donut survived the crash). I guess getting into an accident was my way of celebrating my Polish heritage.

Culture Shock

Culture Shock: 25 things I find weird about Vietnam

In honor of the best facebook chain note of all time here are 25 things that I find odd about Vietnam

1. How little they know or care about the Vietnam war. I have not experienced any awkward conversations involving this topic, most Vietnamese don’t really seem to give a care and far from hating Americans, they go out of their way to be our friends. George explained this is probably because the history of Vietnam is so long and filled with conflict, most of which was against the Chinese, that no one really cares about a 10 year war that they won.

2. How much the kids, especially teens, like English. Basically anything written in English is cool. I had heard about this before I came here and had dealt with the flip side to this back home, the kid that is WAY too into Japan that has something written in Japanese written on his car that literally translated means something stupid like “Very Strong.” But here it is English, perfect example; today at the supermarket I saw a boy of probably 16 wearing a shirt that said “cuddle bear.” He looked well off and the shirt was new, while that would get you laughed at in America, here it is cool.

3. Chinese restaurants and how there aren’t any; Jimmy Buffet once wrote a song about wanting a cheeseburger in paradise, meaning the Caribbean. I have been to the Caribbean and I can tell you that half the time that is about the only thing one the menu at many restaurants. Here not so much. But more than a burger I would like some damn Kung Pao or general Tso chicken, it is impossible to find here, they don’t even have the sauce to stir fry it yourself. I used to eat Chinese at least 3 time a week back home, I could even make a damn good stir fry, but not here.

4. No Tipping; also no saying thank you. The only time you tip or say thank you is when someone REALLY goes out of their way. For example when I got the pipe from Chew-Key, that merited a thank you. As far as I am concerned this makes things better, in America waitstaff has become too dependent on tips. After graduation I took all my friends in Traverse out to the as I had just got a lot of money and they, for the most part, are dirt poor. But as I am standing at the bar waiting to order a round, there were at least 3 employees behind the bar, looking at me and complaining about how people tip and how they are rich and don’t know how it is. I had to wait at least 3 minutes while they had this conversation before someone took my order. Hmm maybe your low tips might have something to do with you ignoring someone who is about to drop $80+ at your establishment. I get much better service here even when I am spending $5 or less and they don’t expect a dime.

5. How little things cost. A grand total for me in a day, rent included, is almost never above $20. Beer here is rarely more than a dollar a bottle, even the good stuff like Tiger. If you spend $5 at a restaurant, that is a lot. I bought a tailored suit that would have been at least $700, in the states for about $150.

6. How easy it is to get a good paying job, as an English Teacher anyway. Here is how an interview goes; Do you have teaching experience/certificate? Is $16 an hour OK? when can you work? If the answer to one and two are yes, and both parties agree on number 3 the job is yours. Then because you make as much in an hour as you spend in a day, you get to live like a king if you want to.

7. Personal space; This has probably been the biggest one. Not necessarily because personal space doesn’t really exist in the Vietnamese world, that is easy enough to accept, it is that the idea is complete bassackward from the US. For example, 2 men or women can share the same bed and this is normal, also during conversation it is not uncommon for a guy to touch you leg to get your attention, and of course in traffic no one has any personal space. But aside from younger couples, people don’t hug here. Seriously, I have seen more people grotesquely making out than I have seen people hugging. After I gave me sow baw girl the flag I tried to give her a hug and she didn’t know what the hell I was doing. This extends to children as well, the entire time I was visiting the mountains I did not see one kid hug an adult or vice versa. It is really weird and actually kind of sad.

8. Affirmative Action; it actually exists here and anyone who is for it should take Vietnam as the best example of why it is a bad thing. People here have to pay for their kids education all the way through school (a “public” school here is like one in England, you have to pay… a lot), except if they are a minority. In addition to this privilege, and that is what Affirmative Action is, a privilege not a right, minorities here receive many others too. This was done to keep the minorities happy so they won’t cause a ruckus. The problem is that this makes the native Vietnamese extremely jealous and pretty much racist against the minorities because while a poor Hmong kid gets to go to school, a poor Vietnamese kid has to go to work as soon as he/she can. Kinda like how a poor white kid is treated differently than a poor black kid by some admissions offices in the US despite the fact that neither has had to face the horrors their ancestors did and neither has connections in the upper class. The government figures there is less of a chance the native Vietnamese will do anything about it so they can have this policy, but the point is that affirmative action creates racism, and this is how.

9. Liquor; I think I have mentioned this before, but when I have a house I wan a room devoted totally to liqueurs from the world and want to win at least one by solving a riddle or logic game, anyway, in Vietnam may exist the weirdest liqueurs of anywhere in the world. What they do is instead of fermenting things like apples, they just put them in a jar of sticky rice wine, which is usually pure crap, to give it flavor. But here is the thing, it is not limited to fruit, they put Animals in there… like wasps, cobras and Komodo dragons, which I believe are endangered. Let me be very clear about this, you can go into a shop here and buy a bottle of rice wine with an endangered species in it. I am still trying to get the guts to try this and when I do I promise it will be documented and I highly doubt I will have more than one shot.

10. Beer; I do have to admit, the beer here is not as good as the micro brewed back home and I am truly saddened because my favorite seasonal, Trader Joe’s Winterfest (7.5% and only about $5-6 for a 6 pack) is out right now and there is no way to get it. But what is really weird about beer here, other than the very low price, is that you cannot buy a 6 pack in most stores. The cans must be bought individually.

11. George and I don’t fight; Well we never really “fought” but our relationship used to resemble “The Dude” and Walter from “The Big Lebowski” here not so much. I think it probably has something to do with the fact that he speaks the language and I don’t.

12. The crazy superstition; more than heaven and hell these people believe in good luck and bad luck. Certain things will bring you good luck and certain things will give you bad luck. You avoid the things that bring you bad bad luck and do the things that bring you good luck. The dumbest one I have come across is the marriage thing, if your lunar zodiac signs do not match up, the parents won’t let you get married, or at the very least will react like people in America used to do when a Catholic married a protestant.

13. The willingness to “sell out” you don’t see many people majoring in humanities or other “social sciences”, other than economics. Perhaps, this is because they have gone so long without money that they are willing to sacrifice happiness for a profession that makes money and a better life.

14. How safe it is; Despite being in three accidents in the last two weeks I have never felt as though I am unsafe. Perhaps this comes from having lived in cites like Saginaw, Chicago and visited Detroit quite a bit while living in Ann Arbor. While there is gun control, the police actually do their job when there is violence and people have a general respect for each other, despite living in poverty, unlike the residents and police of the south side of Chicago who think it is cool that they are in gangs and can have no problem killing children in the crossfire, and that community and city that refuses to acknowledge that this is a serious problem. If a gangbanger here did something like that they would be hunted down and killed, if not by the family by the cops. No trial no nothing, you kill someone with a gun you are royally screwed. Which leads me to my next few points.

15. Lawsuits and how they don’t exist; I had the hardest time explaining lawsuits to one of my classes. Here if someone does something to you, you take your beef to the police and they deal with it. There is no mucking about in court. If someone spills coffee on you at a restaurant you might yell and scream but the government is not going to make the restaurant pay you a million dollars and the case sure as hell won’t go to court. International law is another matter but that is dealt primarily through the government and they decide if it will make them look bad or if the situation will improve their view of the world as they are a developing nation and want foreign investment.

16. How little the cops care about foreigners, especially Americans. I have had many friends go to Africa and heard many stories about cops and officials in those countries will shake down foreigners for money whenever they can. I personally have not yet experienced this. For example, one day I was driving and did something illegal, turned left on a red onto a one way. A cop “pulled me over. Meaning he ran out into the street blew his whistle and shook his baton. Since my visor was down he couldn’t tell i wasn’t native and stat yelling in Vietnamese. I lifted my visor and said “I don’t know what you are saying man” He looked at me for a second and waved his baton and said “just go” so I took off.

17. Racism and lack of political correctness; I love it, I really do. America has become a nation of offended people, most of whom have no reason to be offended, see this site for what I mean. Also political correctness, which I have a huge problem with. If I say a black person is black, instead of “African American” that is politically incorrect, regardless of whether or not I mean it as an insult. On the racism bit, I rarely hear racist comments in America, though the American Culture Department of the University of Michigan thinks it is as rampant as ever, even though we have a black president. Here you here it all the time, no one has a problem expressing they think that Indians, dot not feather, are dirty and rude. No clarification that there are exceptions. For the most part these are Vietnamese and Europeans (like the Dutchman from the mountain adventure). Political correctness doesn’t exist especially in descriptions of people. If you are short, you are not “vertically challenged” if you are fat, you are not “bigger” or thick. Me Sow Baw Girl is certainly not fat by American standards, but is by Vietnamese. So we affectionately call her “me sow beao” (say it like scott beao) or fried noodle fattie. She thinks it is funny. Dear Americans, stop being pussys. Oh wait that is sexist… Oh wait I don’t care.

18. BALCONIES! I love balconies, they are so hard to find in the states but the are everywhere here and they look a lot cooler, I guess the French did do something right after all.

19. How the recession has actually helped the country; This is not much of a shock so much as it is enviable. Everything here is cheap beautiful and they want tourism. There is an emerging class here that now have money to buy goods and services and spoil their children. Money is coming in because things are cheap and the lifestyle is improving. It reminds me of America in the ’90s sometimes.

20. Cleanliness; These people are obsessed with keeping things clean. The streets are swept 24-7. It rarely smells, aside from a few subpar bathrooms. The city of Hanoi looks much better than most major cites in the states, probably due to the lack of “big box stores” and urban sprawl. The parks here are as nice as the ones in Chicago and the Temples are much prettier than most American churches. All the kitchens and houses I have been to, including the one in the mountains are spotless. Even the motorbikes look nicer than most American cars and are rarely more than a few years old. I can honestly say Ann Arbor is a dirtier city than Hanoi.

21. Aging; People her age magnificently. The security guard assigned to my class asked what I thought his age was I said 35, he responded “my daughter is almost 35. maybe MSG isn’t as bad as some would like you to believe.

22. Rats; Here they are like squirrels back home, at first I acted like I do with rats in America and I was always disappointed that I was the year of the rat and had to be constantly reminded of this fact because of my addiction to Chinese food and the placemats that accompany all of them. But here I am actually starting to think it is alright.

23. The Music; the only things they seem to like is Techno, Britney Spears and crappy British pop groups. I say classic rock and they look at me like I am crazy… and don’t even get me started on bluegrass.

24. Kids in vehicles; it’s not the traffic I worry about so much as the kids in traffic, these people put their kids on motorbikes and their legs can barely fit around the seat, and sometimes they put the kids in front of them on the motorbike, so if they are in a accident the kid gets squashed. Today I saw a kid in a range rover standing up in the front seat holding on to the dash… really.

25. The lack of beggers; maybe this has to do with the sense of family, maybe it is because it is easy to get a job or whatever but there really aren’t many beggers out. Not that they don’t exist, and most of them make a killing on tourists, probably more than many people with legitimate jobs, but still there just aren’t that many especially when compared to Ann Arbor and Chicago. I don’t give them any money.