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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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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.

I have not posted on this blog in a while so I might as well give an update just so everyone knows I am still alive and doing well. I also have new posts on my other site for those who are interested.

We have moved a to new and much nicer hotel primarily because of the horrible treatment we were receiving at the old one. The hotel is a long term hotel that cost $10 more a month but is totally worth it because we get free laundry, internet, tea and a staff that knows how to treat westerners. It is also in a much quieter and has a kitchen so George’s wife can cook for us and our food bill is lower.

Unfortunately because of Tet my substitute job at the UN school ended. While I have been officially hired at a new school, classes are now being filled and organized, so I have not had any work. However on Thursday, as I was scanning the classifieds for a second job to make some money while I wait to be assigned a new class, I came upon a very simple ad for a class that would in no way conflict with my schedule at the new school even if I am assigned a class soon.

I called the contact person, an American, and found out the class in question was for a Vietnamese friend of hers and she gave me the woman’s contact info. I called her and said that I was interested and she said the class started that same day and asked if I could make it. I didn’t see why that was a problem so I said OK. We set a place to meet and then went to the school. I assumed this was an English center like most of the jobs are… I was very wrong. The lady was Vietnamese and showed up on a very nice motorbike and was dressed very professionally, this was my first sign that I may have stumbled onto something good. We then drove to a very nice office building and went upstairs to a classroom.

Apparently there are two classes and are being conducted by a very large construction company for it’s higher end employees (mainly civil engineers, architects and businesspeople), and they have their own classroom inside their building. One day a week they learn from a Vietnamese instructor who also works at an international University here in Hanoi, and one day from me.

At first I was very nervous because in addition to this being a “corporate” class, which means more is expected out of you, the classes I had the hardest time with at UNESCO were those with Adult learners (I will be teaching kids and teenagers at the new school). I also did not have a book to work with, only a very limited syllabus. However the class went fine and the people in charge loved me. They also loved the fact that I wore my suit and did indeed look very professional. The class the next day scared me even more because it was a beginner class, which I have an even harder time with when the students are adults, but again I handled it fine.

I told George about how it went and mentioned the fact that there was a security guard, who was a martial arts expert and claimed he could beat up 9 people at one time, assigned to the class and he said this meant I had some VERY important people in the class “The security guard was not there for you” he said. I also mentioned that they were willing to pay me in USD as opposed to Vietnam Dong and he said this meant they had a lot of money and were an international company. As I was leaving the first day, the woman who hired me complemented me on my driving skills and mention she was originally gong to send a car for me… only very rich people have cars here, so this business is doing VERY well.

The best part is that I started this job literally five hours after I applied. Try doing that in America today! So yes I am doing quite well.

Note: This is a very long post but very worth reading… there will be pictures as soon as I can organize them, probably on a separate flickr account. will keep everyone updated.

In 1968, nearly to the date, the North Vietnamese army invaded the American occupied south in what was known as the Tet offensive, as it occurred during the holiday of Tet or new year, which is very similar to our Christmas. It was very surprising because no one thought there would be an attack on the holiday. 41 years later I “invaded” a small northern Vietnamese mountain village and was forced to leave because of an offense against a North Vietnamese man, then later had Tet lunch with a man who was involved in the actual Tet offensive… but we will get to that soon enough.
Tet, as I mentioned, is the Vietnamese new year, and is so because they use the Chinese lunar calendar. You know those placemats you see in Chinese restaurants? That is what I am talking and it is a really big deal.
As I believe I have mentioned before George is married to a Vietnamese woman and her family is from a very rural area in the mountains of north Vietnam. George, of course, was obligated to travel there for the holiday, which meant that I was pretty much obligated to travel there for the holiday. At first George said;
“We should go by train, it will be easier”
I replied “Screw that let’s go by bike”
“It will be hard and dangerous” he continued
“I eat danger for breakfast… plus I think you are just being a pansy” I responded
“Fine then, we will go by bike”
George also invited two others, a Dutchman who has traveled all over the world, got in more trouble and adventures than George, and even lived with some fundamentalist Muslims in the mountains Pakistan for a while, and an orphan street urchin kid who shines our shoes for a quarter. Both of these individuals and I were approved by the family to come visit.
I inquired if either of them were coming with us on the bikes (his wife was going by train and we were meeting her there) he responded that the boy would be but the Dutchman would not.
I was shocked “Wait a minute this dude may have camped out with Osama Bin Laden and you are telling me that he can’t handle a little bike trip?”
George then explained what the bike trip would entail… seven to eight hours of driving and 30 km of dirt road with pot holes three feet deep and three small rivers with no bridge. This only increased my sense of adventure. “This is going to be Awesome! But that guy is still a wuss.” George then went on to explain that the family had water buffalo and cobras in the back yard, which was a wooded mountain. They also had a pet cobra the Dad caught… George then warned that all these things, the animals and driving conditions had the real possibility of killing me.
I replied, “But if I live they will make for the greatest adventure story of my life so far”
And that my friends, is what you are about to read.
The days leading up to our trip were beautiful, like late spring or early fall, the kind where the temperature is just right and you think anything is possible. Even the air smelled of happiness. Alas this was not the weather we would be traveling in. We awoke to overcast skies and as we left at about noon, it began to mist rain. We quickly wrapped or bags in plastic and tied them to our bikes. Then we were off, the street urchin named “Phong” and George on his motorcycle, and me on my silver motorbike I affectionately refer to as “the silver steed” (for those who care it is a Honda wave alpha with a 110cc engine)
Not five minutes into the trip we were on what passes for a freeway here and some lady was trying cross and stopped like a deer in the headlights when she saw me. I swerved, missed her by half a foot, and amazingly didn’t crash. I pulled up along side George
“Moron!” I would repeat that about 50 times throughout the trip… people here are worse than in Ann Arbor… both drivers and pedestrians.
Anyway the first leg of journey was pretty uneventful. I got to go faster than I have yet on a motorbike, here that means 55mph and found a love for speed. We stopped for coffee in some small town where the people had rarely seen a westerner and we took pictures. At around nightfall it started to rain harder and the road got real bad real fast. My helmet is the kind that you see racers wear and has a tinted visor, which makes you look like a badass and is fine to drive in when you are in a city at night with plenty of street lights. But when you are in the countryside and it is totally dark and rainy, you need to have the visor up and there is only so long you can go with rain and mud hitting your face before you have to pull over and get a hotel. Getting a hotel here is not like America… we got two rooms for about $10. What is different is that you must give them your passport, George forgot to get his back in the morning and that caused him a heap of trouble later.
The next day we stopped at a small cafe for breakfast, and this is where I found one of my favorite things so far about Vietnam. The traditional Vietnamese bong. The bong is about two and a half feet long and all day northern Vietnamese men sit around and smoke tobacco out of it. Those who remember Austin Powers 3 will appreciate the fact that I had a breakfast of tea, a bong, and a bowl of Pho (noodle soup with beef).
The road did get better but it wasn’t going to last. When we got to the last town before the mountain dirt road started we stopped to buy Tet gifts. I bought the family 2 pounds of oranges, a large box of candies and nearly three pounds of tobacco for under $10. The locals loved that this westerner was buying all that tobacco. The family loved me for it too.
The dirt road was not as bad as advertised. There were indeed rocks all over and the hills were very steep, all but one of the rivers were now non existent (during George’s earlier trip there had been flooding) and it was more like a very wide stream. I spent my early driving years doing a lot of two tracking and this was nothing. Although I do have to admit I laid the bike down once in a mud puddle and hit my leg on a rock, which sucked. When we got closer to her house though things changed big time. The train station is about 3 km from her house and it is the most treacherous road I have ever driven.
When I was a freshman in college I drove a stretch of countryside road with no streetlights in the middle of the night with fog so thick you could only see three feet in front of you (Cadillac to Mesick) that WAS the scariest driving experience I have ever had… until this. The 3 km mountain pass was 10 times worse. Picture this; a path about 10 feet wide covered with very slick mud and rock with an aqueduct (yes really) and/or cliff face on one side, and a cliff leading down to a raging river on the other. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was even one spot where they had built a little canal across the road and the “bridge” over this canal was about a foot across. If you missed it your ass was in the water and probably over a cliff. The Dutchman, who had joined us at this point, said “my god that was really very dangerous.” That is coming from a guy that once pretended to be an Iranian secret police officer and nearly got killed for it.
Although I was tired and covered in mud I made it, and when I did, WOW! This place was beautiful. Last fall I drove through Shenandoah National park… This was prettier. The place actually reminds me a lot of Appalachia, though I am pretty sure U of M can beat these guys at American football. But seriously the house was built on the side of the mountain, was very small, (most cabins up north are bigger) made of clay with a tin roof and had a cement floor. There was a cistern where water was pumped from the ground by hand. There was also a “kitchen”which was basically another little “house” with a campfire in it, it also holds some really old flintlock guns that are over 100 years old. The bathroom was basically a tarp, held up by sticks with a little shoot on the floor that then ran down the mountain, yes you had to squat… I took a bunch of imodium so I didn’t have to deal with that shit…literally. The house did have electricity and even a satellite dish, but no heat, which is something we will get to in a second.
There were also about 50 kids running around, I guess there isn’t much to do in the mountains but raise buffalo and screw around… at any rate Phong immediately made new friends and soon we didn’t even know he was there. There were also animals, there was a pig pen with a bunch of pigs (side note; they play a game where you jump in the pig pen and try and run across to the other side before the pigs attack you) and there was a water buffalo “barn” in the valley with water buffalo and a bunch of dogs and puppies running around. Dogs and cats in Vietnam are different because you don’t pet them, you keep them so they chase away the rodents, they had also caught a squirrel, and as I have mentioned a cobra for pets.
The rest of the day was spent hanging out eating traditional food, like smoked pork and pig stomach, and smoking the pipe. I ended up having to share a bed with the Dutchman, we slept head to foot with different blankets, this happened solely because the father would have been offended if it didn’t for some reason.
Anyway, for all the traveling that the Dutchman had done, sleeping one night in the wilderness proved to much for him… granted this guy went to bed with only a tee shirt and boxers on and it was probably only about 40 Fahrenheit out (I slept in like five layers of clothes and gloves). He woke up in the dead middle of the night and started freaking out, went outside and may or may not have thrown up (he did drink a lot of this really bad cherry wine that George bought and that probably had something to do with it).
When I finally got back to sleep I was out like a light, George tried to wake me up when they slaughtered a pig in the morning but I guess I just grumbled and went back to sleep. I am told the pig made quite the racket while it was being killed but I only heard the silence of the hams (bad joke I know).
What did get me up was the police who had arrived to deal with our passport situation. This pissed me off because it meant going back down the horrible road, and deal with a bunch of bureaucratic BS at the police station (Any family who hosts foreigners must register them with the local police and take responsibility if something goes wrong). George, of course, had forgot his passport and got levied a $10 fine… I will talk more about this incident on the political blog in the very near future.
After that we went to the market where there were butchered pigs all over the place with the heads being sold along with the rest. The Dutchman, who was indeed being a pussy, went to the train station and back to Hanoi.
Back at the house we did some mountain climbing and found a very old couple living in a straw hut with no electricity or running water. We also found a rat hole and cobra hole. The cobra hole was probably three feet wide. I asked Phong what it was and he made a hissing noise and a snake motion with his hand.
“Yeah, we should probably get the hell out of here” was my response.
The rat hole got me excited because I was told that in two days we would return to it with the dogs and go rat hunting, which is similar to English fox hunting but without horses in that the dog digs in the hole the rat gets loose than the dog chases and kills it while you run after them. I love that kind of stuff.
Soon it was time for a traditional lunch with the men eating at the table and the women and children on the floor. Not saying it is right but it is what it is. We had fresh pig and this alcohol that was pretty much everclear mixed with some kind of vegetable and served out of an old oil bottle. There was also pig blood soup, I wanted to try it but George said that was a great way to get tuberculous so that didn’t happen.
Then I got to do the one thing that I was most excited about… Water Buffalo riding! It is the year of the water buffalo and they are the biggest animal they raise. If you have never seen a Vietnamese water buffalo, it is basically a cow with horns that curve back, but they are very mobile and can go up mountains and swim across rivers. Fortunately they are also very docile and very hard to piss off, so it wasn’t like riding a bull, though I did have to jump off when the buffalo went too close to a tree. (pictures are coming)
After Buffalo riding we went inside and started watching Transformers (They have a DVD player). Pretty soon George started freaking out about something with his wife in Vietnamese. I know enough to know he was saying something about going or taking something home. I asked what was up and he said;
“Shut up for a second we have a big problem”
For the record a “big problem” for George usually turns out to be nothing… this time, however, it was indeed something.
All of a sudden he got up grabbed his helmet jumped on his motorcycle and said
“Phong took off and said he is going home”
I figured he just had some stupid fight with one of the other kids and was being a brat… I was wrong.
Soon George started calling the house and talking to the wife and finally I was handed the phone.
What happened was this. At some point the Dad had cornered Phong and told him he was costing George too much money and that he was being rude, had offended him (hence the Tet offense) and had to leave.
George was livid. George’s wife and I ended up going down the road to where they were, a small cafe… with a pet monkey, and tried by phone to convince the Dad to let him stay… He wouldn’t.
This, of course, meant we couldn’t stay either as we were not just going to let him sleep in the woods or something.
Now really what kind of a jerk throws out a homeless kid, who he had been warned, would not know all of the culture rules as he does not have a family, the day before what is basically Christmas? And more importantly what kind of a jerk throws out his daughter because she was nice enough to invite a homeless kid to New Year? Not to mention the fact that we very well may have had to drive all night on motorbikes in near freezing temps because very few places, hotels, or otherwise are open during Tet.
We went back to the house, packed up quickly, George cursed out the father and we took off down the path of doom. By this point it was nightfall, I could barely see anything, and was trying like hell not to fall off a cliff. I was also forced to carry Phong on the back of my bike through all of this and was really scared that he would break something or die if I did indeed crash. However we made it through the dirt roads without a major problem.
I had my adrenalin pumping and was willing to go all the way back… In fact when George got off the phone with the Dad at the cafe and turned to me and said “We are going to Hanoi” It brought back memories of the good summer at the theater when, after the Harold and Kumar preview, several of my coworkers said “let’s go to White Castle” and we drove all night to Grand Rapids only to find there is no White Castle in Grand Rapids. I was totally ready for an all night eight hour journey like that.
But I also had on 7 top layers 4 bottom layers and two pairs of socks… they didn’t. We, most fortunately, did find a hotel because they were losing it.
We woke the next morning to rain and George didn’t want to go the final four hours, I convinced him otherwise but they were miserable, it rained the entire time, my shoes and therefore feet got soaked I had 8 layers on this time and I still got cold towards the end. I had to deal with a terrible cross wind that was making it very difficult to keep my very lightweight bike straight, I almost ran out of gas and less than 2 miles from home, George’s bike broke down.
We did have a great new year meal with a couple whose roadside store was open. They served us tea, Tet cake, and mountain chicken with spice/salty orange sauce, which was delicious. They also gave us gas at a reasonable price. The man oddly enough, had actually been in the Tet offensive and we talked about the war, or the American invasion as they call it, a little. He mentioned that during the war, he did not get to have Tet lunch. He was just as proud of his service as any American veteran I have met, and a very nice guy especially since we used to be his enemy.
When we arrived at the hotel I honestly could not believe it… we had specifically told them not to touch any of our things and they basically gave our rooms to their family members, without our permission and with us still paying for them and moved all of our stuff out… I am still missing several DVDs and my Vietnam flag… we are moving out at the end of the month.
Everyone at the Wife’s house was seriously angry at the father. Today he went to stay with his family for a few days and will soon be moving to another mountain town. He basically got kicked out of his own house… though for the record, though he was offended by the breaking of a culture rule, he too broke one. Phong was George’s responsibility and he should have brought the matter to George. He had also agreed not to give the boy any trouble due to his situation (the kids by the way, loved him and they were all having a blast until dad stepped in).
We did end up having a great Tet holiday today, we went to the proprietor of beer corner’s house and he gave me my very own bong, it even has a dragon carved into it. I am buying him some damn fine scotch for that. We spent today and last night at a gaming center with a ton of computers which was one of the only things open… we have the movies, they have games online, everyone wants to get away from the family during the holidays.
Like I said though, one of the best adventures of my life.

When I grow up I want to have a room in my house, like Indiana Jones has, except instead of rare artifacts I want it to hold exotic hard liqueurs from around the world, I also want to procure at least one of them by answering a riddle or logic game. I am also a fan of trying things that are taboo in America, if for no other reason then to offend people who get offended easily, see 90% of Americans, for this reason I was also very excited to try dog meat.

On New Years day I was going to go to the countryside, but we ended up having to get George’s bike fixed. We went to the mechanic’s house and he didn’t want to fix the bike, he wanted to celebrate the new year so he treated us to something called hot pot at a restaurant owned by his cousin. Hot pot is basically a big bowl of boiling water that you put different meats and noodles in and share with a big group like fondue. I don’t really like it because some weird stuff comes with it, like pig intestine and shrimp with the head still on, but whatever. We sat on neat little tables on the floor like you see in the movies. When we came in there were three huge bottles of home made liquor; a rice wine, a very scary one with fish in it (maybe some other time) and one made from apples. While we were waiting for the food the guy ordered a small bottle of the apple one. It was amazing, about 20%, but not girly tasting and meant for mixing like apple pucker, and it went down very easy. This mechanic and I finished off two bottles and George’s wife had to ride my motorbike home. I am currently try to figure out a way to smuggle some back to the states

A few days ago I was at a dinner party hosted by one of my fellow teachers. It was at an Indian restaurant and the people I met their were talking to me about the difference between Indian cuisine and Vietnamese cusine and then asked me a question I have gotten from many of my classes “have you ever had dog meat?” I responded I hadn’t but really wanted to try it. The guy, named Thang said “OK you and me will go eat dog soon.” Awesome.

So yesterday I get a call from Thang saying he wanted to take me out on Sunday to get a traditional meal with dog meat. OK. So he picked me up and we ended up going out to some suburb of Hanoi to the house of a guy he knew who was a surgeon at the military hospital, he actually fought for North Vietnam in the last year of the war and grew up in Hanoi during the war, but that is a tale for another time. Anyway we went there and had a great meal of noodles, dog meat prepared three ways, oranges, Me Sow Baw (my favorite Vietnamese dish), french bread, and Hennessy to drink. My critique on dog meat is as follows. The boiled stuff was gross and chewy, you also “had” to dip it in sauce that was basically liquefied shrimp. The soup had bones in it and was a bit too gamey especially since we were eating Lassie here, but the fried stuff was AMAZING. It tasted just like BBQ pork back home! Duke (my sister’s dog) you better watch yourself pal. Just kidding Nicole… or am I?

The good news is that this Surgeon is a really great and funny guy who thinks I am awesome so I may be going over there on Sundays. He also wants his son, who is apparently a genius in math, to practice his English with someone who speaks it so he will have a better chance to go to an American university… not a bad idea.

PS New Posts on the other blog coming this week

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