Bicycle Built For Two

Today's Thoughts...

Last weekend, Lili and I, love it though we do, needed a bit of a break from Chiang Mai. The conversation went something more or less like this:

(Friday Night over burritos at El Diablo)
Me: I’m feeling sort of restless. I want to DO something this weekend.
Lili: Me too. Now that I’m done work, I want to see something new. Like what?
Me: I’m not sure. I’m not up for the beach.
Lili: Nah. Too far, dude. Maybe something cultural?
Me: Hmmm.
(Saturday Afternoon lying on my bed)
Me: (on phone) What’s up?
Lili: Just out for a jog.
Me: Cool, cool. So you want to go to Sukhothai? It’s halfway to Bangkok but it’s got some pretty cool ruins.
Lili: Totally. I’m there. When do you want to leave?
Me: Like now?
Lili: Awesome. See you at the bus station.
Ahh, Thailand. Land of the Get-Up-And-Go. So here’s where we went…

Teachable Moments

Today's Thoughts...

Well I thought that a lesson on product launching as a segment of my marketing game in Public Speaking would be fairly innocuous. Students had to simply survey their peers and teachers about a given product-- deodorant, face wash, toothpaste, toilet tissue-- and come back with their findings. Do you like it soft/minty/fresh/fruity? What adjective comes to mind when you think of it? What person(s) come to mind when you think of it? The point was, basically, to devise a persuasive speech and commercial to gear your product towards a target community in need or better yet, want, of it. Simple, right? Hence my teachable moment.

One group returns, bright-eyed and eager with their report on deodorant. Sipping my morning cup o' joe, I listen and smile, nodding, tallying their points. People think of deodorant as refreshing, freshening, drying, whitening (this is Thailand, remember, a place where like perhaps some two thirds of the world people take the time to whiten their pits). Check: two points. People love that deodorant can keep them smelling fresh, keep them dry, provide a delicious aroma to waft from beneath their arms. Check: two points, er, one point-- aroma? Delicious? Hmmm. What people does it make you think of? At this, one of the students presenting clears his throat and sort of mumbles a reply. "Speak up," I urge him, my face half buried in my notebook as I track their score. He mumbles again. I swivel on my stool to face him, smiling. "What did your group find out," I press, ignorant to his discomfort. "Well, ajarn," he starts. "The people it makes you think of is the Turkish students because they smell not so good all the time. I mean, some of them, smell not so good all the time. I mean...," his eyes dart to the sole Turkish student in our class. He quickly fashions an apology-- "No, not you. I mean, like other kids, who need... to... er... wear deodorant."

The rest of the class chatters on, oblivious. I freeze, coffee mug in hand. What did they call this at AACLDS-- a teachable moment? Okay, okay, what do I say? My brain is racing. I nod to him, giving him permission to squirm to his seat as the next group rises. My Turkish student and I lock eyes and instantly I'm in his seat, seven years ago, sitting in my Social Justice classroom sophomore year of high school. Girls in green skirts are chatting all around me as our teacher writes two words on the board-- AFFIRMATIVE ACTION. Strawberry blonde ponytail bobbing, the girl in front of me quickly raises her hand to answer the teacher's query-- "What is affirmative action?" "Well, it's when Black and Spanish kids get to take the spots of smarter White kids in school just because they're minorities." I feel myself cringe, sinking lower in my chair. All the pale faces in the classroom turn to face me; I suddenly feel like its one of those I-went-to-class-in-my-underwear dreams. My teacher turns beet red and the strawberry blonde ponytail slowly swivels to face me, her face one color from the tip of her nose to the ends of her hair. "I mean kids who don't work hard, not like you," she stammers. I excuse myself to the rest room and don't come back. My teacher is silent.

I blink and see my student's eyes once more. Allowing the remaining two groups to report, I gather my faculties and slow my spinning thoughts. As the final students take their seats, I turn to the board and write one word on the board: STEREOTYPE. I turn to face the class, already steadily copying. "What did we say you never want to do when you speak before a large group of people?" I ask. Pages flip, a hand goes up: "Alienate your audience." "And what is the best way to do that?" Another hand: "Offend someone." "What is a stereotype?" Blank stares. One student raises his hand uncertainly: "Making an opinion about a whole group based on rumors or what a few people have done or do." His textbook answer suffices. I look to the student who had read the earlier presentation. "Now I know you were reporting from what your interviewee told you, about Turkish students and the deodorant, right?" He nods. "Well, no fault to you, this is a good example to show one way of accidentally alienating and offending not only your audience but your friends..."

After roughly another half hour, the class ends and the students gather their books. I notice as my former presenter approaches his Turkish classmate. Words exchange, nods, some smiles, and what only can be called a handshake-man-hug. (You know when guys slap hands and pull into something akin to a one-armed hug? That.) I smile. My Turkish student smiles. Sighing a deep breath, for the first time I notice the beads of perspiration running down my face and neck; I realize I might just need some deodorant myself.

Home Coming

Today's Thoughts...

Wow. It has been quite some time since I’ve written. December was a blur, but I’m back. Back to the web world, back to the blog world, back to Chiang Mai. It’s strange you know? I expected to feel like a fish out of water going home after being away, but truthfully, nothing really changes. The people who loved you still love you. Your room is still your room. Your pillows are just as soft. Well, sometimes your brother grows ten inches and suddenly sprouts a thicket of dark fuzz he’s calling a mustache. And occasionally your father develops something of a social life and your mother learns to take a break and breathe every once in a while. Stuff like that. But otherwise, things are pretty much the same, just as you left them seven months ago.

It’s being back that’s strange, the part that for so many months has begun to make sense, suddenly unravels, the very fabric threatening to tear. Why are you getting on a plane to travel literally to the other side of the world? Why are you cranking, kicking, pumping in vain to get a two-bit second-hand motorbike to start? Why are you deserting hot water showers, meals that don’t involve rice, and weather that actually changes every so often to come back to… to come back to what exactly? That’s what I asked myself as I hopped on the first of five planes back to this place. That’s what I asked myself as I clambered into a tuk tuk outside of Chiang Mai International Airport. What am I doing here? (A little depressing, no?)

Then I got that damn bike to start and went whirring down the highway, the warm air on my arms and cheeks. Then I saddled up with my copious bags and papers and strode into a classroom amidst giggles (yes, college students still giggle) and noticed the “Welcome Back!” sign written in highlighter and hanging from my podium. Then I stepped into a little bar with international football (soccer) games in full gear, Europeans cheering, Americans tucked away at the rear, me clanking bottles with some of my closest compadres in this tiny town of a city. But it was when I called my father, tears in my eyes, desperate to cling to some shred of sanity, to find a method to my madness and a reason for the growing doubts that hung over me like a petulant cloud in rainy season, then and only then did I start to see. “It takes a lot to be there,” he said, the Skype connection struggling to carry his words to me. “You know, not everyone’s out there doing what you’re doing. It’s hard. Very hard. You're far away, but you’re making it work. That’s all that really matters.” I couldn’t tell if it was the connection fading or his voice: “I’m proud of you.”

Going back home will always be going back home, you know? Home is the place where my parents are, where my brother stays, where the people I love will always love me back—- my grandmother dutifully reading this blog, my aunt writing me snailmail letters from 10,000 miles away, my Visi chicas who I know will never leave my side no matter how far I stray, my cousins, my uncles, my people. My home. Yes, going back will mean precisely what it has meant these past few years of college; it will mean all of that till I’m wrinkled in the face and gray in the hair. But returning to Chiang Mai is something different. It’s not about leaving home and the place where I am loved. It’s about coming back to the place where I belong. And I think for the moment, it’s where I’m supposed to be.

Beauty of the Bard

Today's Thoughts...

A few words from my Shakespeare class as we attempted sonnets just before staining their literary innocence with the blood and gore of Macbeth…

(From the shyest boy in class)

You are as beautiful as an angel
Who watches me every day from the sky
My dream like we are in a fairy tale.
I always keep it in my mind
Oh my love, you are so noble
I do not dare to propose to you
I am waiting for the miracle
Just to make my dream come true
Do you see your good man?
You will see how I am sincere?
Can do all with my heart and hands
Hope one day you see me here
I just hope my dream comes true
To live together with you.
***

(From the shyest girl in class)
The love that will last forever
When you and me are meant to be
There is a spark when we are together
Some strong bond that we cannot see
I pray to the Angels do not take us apart
Because I’ve been waiting for so long
You are my everything, my heart
The one who completes my love song
You are the star that fulfills the sky
The lost pieces of my jigsaw
When I’m with you I feel I can fly
You have owned my heart of all
The Gods have given us their blessing
That our love will be everlasting
****
(From the most outspoken guy in class)

I don’t know whether this is right or wrong
To hear your voice day and night long
When I close my eyes, your face I see
In my dreams, with you I long to be
I really don’t know what love is
Hope I’ll someday learn from you this
I’m enchanted with everything you are
I really want to be with you there
Your life is to share…
Something tells me that you are mine
What I feel for you will never decline
Sometimes when I think of you, I blush
Have your own way…I don’t wanna rush
I can wait for you all my life.

Suddenly the Bard's words have a whole new meaning in these kids' mouths... :)

Breakin all tha rulez

Today's Thoughts...

When I started to ride my bike, I made myself promise not to break five very simple, very cardinal rules. Everybody else did it, said I, but not me. Oh no. Fearful farang that I am, there’s no way I’d ever…

Rules of the Road:

1) I hereby promise to never squeeze through traffic with approximately 4 to 6 inches between myself and the two pick-ups on either side of me. (Okay, but sometimes, you really don’t have time to wait in line at that traffic light.)

2) I hereby promise to never rideth o motorcy upon the footpath of man (aka the sidewalk). (Again, no time, really just no time.)

3) I hereby promise to never run a red light be it as it may that red lights (not at intersections!) are in fact optional in this city. (If no one else is waiting…I mean you just look dumb.)

4) I hereby promise to never ride upon the highway in reverse. (But really? Are you going to go all the way down to the next U-turn because you missed your turn-off by 10 feet? No, I didn’t think so.)

5) I hereby promise to never be struck by a moving vehicle that nudges me across two lanes and looks at me like I’m the one who caused him grief in his shiny silver Civic while he undoubtedly curses my name to the girl on the other end of his mobile phone. (Seriously. C’mon. I’m on two wheels. You hit ME.)

I hereby promise not to make any more promises. Last time I checked, I was still in Asia. Here, I’m playin by their rules.

Good Eats Penang

Buddhas at Kek Lok Si Temple


Today's Thoughts...
Alright, so as promised, I will return to the saga of October Break, picking up with the deliciousness that is the food capital of Malaysia: Penang. Let me say that the cuisine certainly unbelievably lives up to the hype. I’m talking, some of the best dishes I’ve ever had in Asia (and I ADORE Thai food!) and right on the street corner at a plastic table and chairs. Incredible! I was in nothing but food coma for about a week and thoroughly fulfilled my plans to eat my way through Penang, so I’ll just sprinkle a little of that tasty garnish in this post…

Nasi Lemak- a Penang Favorite


Plopping down with PiA fellows Alex and Agnes in their cool apartment complete with huge gorgeous swimming pool downstairs, I set up camp for an unexpectedly extended stay in Penang. I stepped off the plane into the absurdity that is the Penang transport system. That is, crazy bus lines that wrap and wind around the city, a dearth of taxis, and as per non KL-Bangkokian SE Asia style, no subway, womp, womp. :) No bigs. I lugged my oversized bags onto the nearest bus and proceeded on a nearly three hour journey utterly lost (of course I’d be lost) around the city. No cell phone in sight, I had no way of reaching Alex and Aggie so I just went with the flow and managed to make friends with an elderly Chinese woman who convinced me I would be going on a Buddhist temple retreat with her later in the week (complete with cell phone numbers, addresses, and emails) and an Iranian photo-journalist and graphic design student who asked me to be a model for some of his latest work. Sweating, dragging at least my weight in luggage; that was the last thing I was expecting at the end of my incredibly long journey. The last thing, but perhaps the best as he had once lived precisely where Alex and Aggie do and unlike the scores of university students and bus drivers who had no idea what I was talking about when I asked over and again for directions (you know, panting, dripping, heaving bags) and dropped me and my entourage off right at their doorstep for free! Sometimes it does help to play up the damsel in distress card occasionally ;) (More on that thought in Indo…)

Their Pool!!


If you haven’t noticed already, Penang and Malaysia in general is a HUGE melting pot of peoples. That’s what explains the overabundance and variety of great SE Asian eats there. The major population divides of Malaysia are among the Chinese and Indian populations and the ethnic Malay. In Penang, that’s amplified with mixtures of Acehnese, Thai, Burmese, and pretty much a healthy dose of all the culture SE Asia has to offer. Which means barrios of all sorts, shops of every kind, and listening to a conversation that starts to you in English, turns to a friend in their native tongue, and asks a question of a fellow Penangite (sp?) in Bahasa Malaysia. But I digress, back to the food.

Me with Hokkien Mee

During my stay, I managed to make it through about nine of the twelve top dishes of Penang including Char Koay Teow (Chinese fried noodles with seafood, eggs, etc. and my favorite of all the dishes), Hokkien Mee (Hokkien Chinese soup with spices, meats, and boiled eggs), Laksa (the deliciously creamy fish-ball curry-esque soup and my second favorite), Mee Goreng (Indian fried noodle), Mee Rebus (Indian sweet noodle soup with boiled egg), Nasi Kandar (Indian Muslim rice and curry and meat), Nasi Lemak (a Penang favorite of rice, boiled egg, and meat), Maggie Mee (Ramen-type noodles fried and perfect after a night of drinks), and of course some Mango Lassi to top it off. And I can’t remember the rest. And I barely tipped the iceberg. It was like hopping through Asia on my plate. I’m salivating as we speak. Ok. I’m going to stop. But the noodles, I’m telling you! Orgasmic, really. My first full day there, I did all the highlights of Georgetown, Penang’s downtown district and hub. I went to Little India, Chinatown, the Esplanade along the sea (Penang is an island btw, how did I not realize that before?), famous Hindu temples, famous mosques, the Khoo Kong Si Chinese clan house, St. George’s Church, home and museum of the man they call the Rockefeller of the East Cheong Fat Tze, and the Penang State Museum to name a few.

Exhibits of Nonya Culture at Penang State Museum


The State museum was my favorite spot because of the plethora of exhibits of Penang’s ridiculously rich cultural legacy. I’m somewhat addicted to anything that screams heritage, racial/ethnic legacy, pretty much all that anthro-type stuff we learned in the fine halls of Princeton ;) So the museum was a huge hit with full on displays of Penang’s many groups, when they came, their courtship practices, food background, opium dens, arranged marriages, etc. Loved it, loved it.

Hands off the Balls


Next day, I plopped on several buses and made my way to the most beautiful temple I have ever seen, purportedly the largest in SE Asia. The Kek Lok Si Temple, or the “Temple of Supreme Bliss,” is known as the Temple of the Thousand Buddhas for the thousand plus statues of the Buddha that dot its terraces, walkways, and peaks.

Kek Lok Si Temple Complex


It is also home of the enormous statue of Kuan Yin, of whom I purchased a large fold out wall hanging for her uncanny resemblance to the Virgin Mary standing on the serpent Satan while Yuan stands on the back of a dragon, halo adorning her porcelain frame. The temple complex is also known for the composition of its highest temple peak which has Chinese, Thai, and Hindu architecture from base to crest. Breath-takingly beautiful and inspiring. I could spend hours just hanging out up there and did, looking over the city as the sun sank low in the sky. ::sighs:: Oh, Asia.

Offering Tiles at Kek Lok Si


When I wasn’t engorging myself on noodles, rice, and curries or hiking my way up to sacred ground, I was bopping around on buses, indulging in the icy refreshing flavor of Jazz beer, having cheery dark-skinned Indian men laugh and point at their skin, shouting “Same! Same!” to me, and conscripting a fellow partner in SE Asian crime to follow me. My fourth day in Penang, Dylan flew in to spend a couple more days with me soaking up food and fun.

Our first stop was SoHo bar and pub where we danced till we were breathless to the tunes of…Footloose? In Asia? WHAT! Reliving some high school glory days of golden pumps and jean skirt cut-offs, I rocked like I was had been back on stage belting “I Need a Hero” yesterday. Oh we brought it all right. Perhaps to our chagrin, had we cared enough to notice, the entirety of the bar saw just how well (or hideously)we brought it complete with air guitars, squeals, and choreographed dancing. Move over Kek Lok Si. That was a sight to behold.

Cheesy Nan Deliciousness


As if the sunset over the thousand buddhas wasn’t enough, indulging in Dylan’s love of all things that go boom and vroom, we decided his second day there to catch an ancient furnicular to Penang Hill, the highest look-out point and retreat in the city. Swept northward by its cool breezes, we climbed into the rickety cars and managed to make it to the top just in time for the sun to unfold its rays of fiery reds and fierce oranges over a perfectly blue blue sky. Cameras could never fully capture the magic in that, the skyline of Penang beneath us.

Penang Skyline from Penang Hill


The Hindu temple, mosque, and night time fire-show made the long trip up and back more than well worth the journey. Much more worth the price of admission than the horrifying gated two building compound down near the Esplanade that they call Fort Cornwallis. Ooh, not worth the money, energy, anything. Had the feeling not quite of fading glory, but glory that never was with carny costumed “soldiers,” a megaphone that boomed the time to the backdrop of anthem music and something like a twenty-one gun salute. Kind of like a mini theme park gone awfully wrong.

Dylan in Prison at Fort Cornwallis


But most of the trip to Penang was just right. Exactly what was needed after the stresses (and beauty!) of Vietnam and the commercialism (and comfort!) of Singapore. Perfect slice of SE Asia topped with a little bit of sunset for flavor—delectable.

In Honor of a King.

Today's Thoughts...

Today in class there was a rare moment. I got choked up, almost to the point of tears. Naturally I shrugged and tried to make light of it, but for once I couldn’t. You see we were talking about American icons and so I showed a video of MLK (Martin Luther King Jr.) giving his “I have a dream” speech when it occurred to me that my students had no clue what Civil Rights meant, what the 'dream' was about, or why it was and is so incredibly important to our country and to me. I don't know when the last time was when I thought about what it really means to me and for... me. When I told them that not too long ago people like me couldn’t drink water from the same fountains as others and that we were barred from even going to school with other children, they were all in shock. ‘You mean teacher because you look Black?’ Well, because I am Black. Something about watching MLK stand at the foot of the Lincoln Monument, explaining the inspiring significance of Obama in the White House, and watching the recognition dawn on their faces about their own exuberant ‘Obama, Obama!’s’ here in Thailand… it hit me somewhere deep. And I wasn’t expecting that.

Update: For the quiz that week, I had my students answer some questions on segregation and the importance of the dates 1863, 1963, and 2008 in American history (obviously with regards to race and the racial divide). I got back some wonderfully heartfelt responses from my students at the bottom of their quizzes and here was one of the notes to me:
"We could not jude the book by is cover, your heart and your skin are not the same. You're very kindness, gentle, lovely. We love you because your behave and good things you have don. Love is Color Blind. [insert drawing of a crying baby]." You know, these kids constantly find new ways to touch me.

Twisted

Today's Thoughts...

Well, it’s November and I’m asking myself when the heck I let that happen. Chiang Mai is cold (was that possible?!) and of course by cold, I mean 60 Farenheit which after five months of skin boiling heat waves, leaves me shivering on my bike as my skirt flies up time and again sending goosebumps up my thighs. Ah well. So funny story. I decided it’d be cool to try changing up my hair a bit. I was getting a wee bit tired of rockin the fro so I did up a bunch of twists all over the place one night and rolled out without a thought. Well by the utter commotion caused in the coffee break room/kitchen at work, you would have thought I’d gone out and shaved my skull. Me, five teachers, and ten hands in my hair pulling, tugging, trying to unravel the tight spirals, and murmuring in approval when they sprang back into place. Everyone was utterly transfixed by my deadlocks. Yes, deadlocks. So after two or three teachers remarked on how cute they were, who did it for me, WHAT you did them yourself, can I have some, oh of course now how silly my hair could never do it, WHAT it can! (you get the picture), I was contemplating three things. Do I tell them they word they were searching for was dreadlocks, not deadlocks? Do I try to insert some knowledge about how they’re now called locs, not dreadlocks because it sounds awful? Do I try to convince them that I in fact do not have deadlocks or dreadlocks or locs, but twists? Well, I settled on the latter as that took more time, thought energy, and vocabulary than I thought I’d ever had for the plush and woolly coils on my head. Suffice it to say, the change was something of a curious hit. I can’t wait to see what’ll happen when I show up Monday with…cornrows? Good god!
More on the updates of October vaca in Penang and Indo and the recent ridiculousness of the Loi Krathong Festival coming ASAP ;)

Sunsets and Sentosa-- Singapore Take Two

Today's Thoughts...


The last time I made my way to Singapore was on less than optimal terms so I figured I would come back and not only do justice to Asia’s most spic n’ span nation, but give a second shot to the city island I sort of skipped over and through. Excellent choice. WHOA! I landed smack dab in the middle of Partyzone Central with the new Singapore PiA crew and just in time for Ana’s big 22 bash!! Epic night like none other starting with cake and room partying, off to Holland Village, Singapore’s foreigner nightlife district, where we dove headfirst into guac and chips at Cha Cha Cha and then on for beersteins at a neighboring bar. After a previous all night bus to Hue, five seconds of sleep at the Hue Backpacker’s Hostel, and then two fast flights to Singapore, I collapsed royally at about 6am, well partied beyond my limits. During the day on Saturday, we flew through Singapore’s highlight sights stopping off at Little India, Chinatown, Arab Street, Raffles’ Hotel, so named after the founder of modern Singapore and equally famous for its bartender’s invention of the Singapore Sling in I believe the 1930s, and how many more sights I have no idea. Tons of walking, sweating, sight-seeing, and just lapping up the beauty of Singapura.
That night, as a farewell to PiAer John, we popped down to the riverside district clubs where we stopped in at what we all determined to be THE zombie techno mosh pit of Singapore in a club called home. As in dancing none of us could understand, yet without words everyone else seemed to know how to do, bopping to an unheard rhythm (at least not in the music playing in our ears) in an eerie dry ice hazy room with strobe lights and a DJ. Something like Halloween come very VERY early. After observing the… ritual… there, and downing our drinks courtesy of the cover, we headed on down the way to a different club called dbl 0. Exciting and energizing time had by all. Loved it and would definitely go back sans the pricey cover charge (without drinks!). The music on the top top deck was great, like a trip back home in Singapore. Everything from Fifty Cent to Cold Play and 80s chic to the music of the early millennium, musical sampling like none other. Around 4 we headed back home, John and I craving some early morning/ late night Mickey Dee’s so we stopped off at one of the millions of 24 hour Mc Donald’s throughout Asia just in time to watch the automatic menus flip from burgers and nuggets to Egg McMuffins and hashbrowns. We staked out a clean spot amidst other later-nighters chowing down on their Big Macs and fries and downed two sausage McMuffins a piece. Let the record show that the ONLY time I have allowed myself to indulge in Western fast food grease heaven has been in Singapore and at this particular Mc Donald’s. I don’t know about you, but I consider that a feat after nearly 5 months in Asia.

After our grease-filled coma, we trudged our way home, me waking up many hours and moons later to head to Singapore’s popular weekend destination, a “beach” called Sentosa. Now I put it in quotations because “beach” is probably the loosest term for Sentosa. More like a fun park with sand, Sentosa is reachable via one of Singapore’s six million malls (did I mention that every subway MRT ride to a popular destination ends in a mall? As in to reach the surface, you HAVE to walk through a mega underground mall? Ingenious. Absolutely ingenious). Via our handy ticket purchase in one of several windingly long lines, we grabbed seats on the monorail that took us to the illustrious Sentosa. When we got off at the ticketing window, we should have known that Sentosa was not your normal beach. I mean sure, there was sand (trucked in some years ago expressly for the purpose of designing Sentosa) and water (dotted by the freight ships that bobbed on the water) and beach food (if by that you mean the swanky Café del Mar blaring gyrating tunes all day long to compete with the techno beats throbbing from the café next door). A bit overwhelmed and mildly frightened by this “beach” experience, we plopped down on the self-entitled hippiest beach around (don’t ask me the name now) and listening to Puffy play in the background, gobbled down some expensive lunch hungrily and laid out on the sand next to the three foot pool with water slide and the women in bikinis shooting down it. Strangest beaching day ever.

The next morning found me groggily packing and saying my good byes, my weekend in Singapore suddenly a blur of party, fun, party, beach, and farewell. Already exhausted and losing steam, I hopped my $8 Jetstar flight for Penang and was on my way to the fusion culinary capital of Southeast Asia.

V... is for vomit: Doin it Vietnam Style!

Today's Thoughts...
So in my week’s stay in Vietnam, traveling through the 4 H’s—Hanoi, Halong Bay, Hue, and Ho Chi Minh (as a point of departure), I have come to realize that an absurd number of people in this country have a thing for vomiting. Not anorexia/bulimia sort of vomiting, no, but something strange nonetheless. On the way in, after a 10 hour bus ride from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, Allison and I got on a plane headed for Hanoi only to land and after stepping onto our airport shuttle into the city, notice that not one, but two women were vomiting into plastic bags. The ride was bumpy, but not nauseating by any means so this was odd indeed. The next day, strolling through Hanoi, we came across more gagging sounds, this time from a small child whose parents continued to feed her as if nothing had happened…hmmm. Finally, on the flight into Ho Chi Minh, a man began retching amongst laughs from throughout the plane. Since when was vomiting a hilarious event? I have no idea, just thought I’d note it. So, Vietnam you ask? Let’s start with Hanoi.
We landed in Hanoi in the middle of a giant child's costume festival sort of like Halloween. The kids were adorable! Besides these cute kids and with the notable exceptions of Thom, our gregarious serenading hotel host at Lucky and the wonderful ladies at the Mask shop who offered us delicious tomato-looking fruits to try, I’m not sure what crawled up their noses and died, but many of the people of Hanoi were decidedly and unnecessarily spiteful most of our stay there. Point in case, our first night we were literally shooed out of a restaurant, pushed onto the street by a waiter saying it was too full and to come back in an hour. We went to grab fries and while sitting down (at the appropriately table belonging to the fry stand), were pouted at with puckered lips, stamping foot, and Vietnamese curses by a girl working at the shop who up and took our table as well as the table of some kids next to us. After she attempted to throw our things on the ground, I grabbed her wrist and shook our stuff free, yelling at her for being so abominably rude. That surprised her a bit, but not enough to leave us with the table. It would seem that although the general malaise that hangs in the air is displayed liberally for foreigners, it is not reserved for the out-of-towners alone. What they say is true about Hanoi, the traffic is insane, but with a little confidence and steady strut, crossing the street really is no biggie with the zigzagging cars and crisscrossing lines weaving about without traffic lights.

With Jonas and Maria, we created our own walking tour of the city, going to the beautifully serene Temple of Literature, the Ho Chi Minh Museum with all its crazy art, the Flag Tower, a Bonsai Park, the Ngoc Son Temple, the Hoan Kiem Lake, and whatever other random bits we could throw in. We dined on delicious pho (fuh), which is a yummy white noodle soup with lemon thyme-esque broth and meat and to our AMAZEMENT— bread! A holdover from French colonialism, Vietnam is chock full of delicious baguette style bread! After nearly 5 months without real bread (I’m talking not that nearly Wonder bread tough stuff in Thailand), we were in heaven and devoured every piece of bread in sight including the great breakfast at our hotels. Every hotel it seems offers a light fare breakfast of bananas, bread, eggs, jam, butter, and coffee or tea as well as free computers in the lobby and usually Wifi. We were in comfortable bliss despite our tiny quarters in the Hanoi Lucky Hotel and Queen A-Z. If that wasn’t enough, we chowed down on pizza pleasure (Pepperonis restaurant) and burgers (courtesy of the Hanoi Backpacker’s hostel) to round out our eating marathon. That and the crazy Vietnamese white coffee with condensed milk ad enough black coffee to knock you over, served over ice for delicious crispness.

Leaving Hanoi, we booked an overnight one night, two day tour to Halong Bay with the Hanoi Lucky Hotel which I would not at all recommend. Although AP Travel is very legit and the tour was nicely set up, we literally did NOTHING that Lucky promised in the tour itinerary we paid for. NOTHING. No fishing, no swimming, no kayaking in the most beautiful body of water and islands I have ever seen. All of which were promised in our so-called package we paid Lucky for. And as with all things in Vietnam, once you’re scammed, you’re stuck. So we made the best of what we could, I raised hell intermittently throughout and we lapped up the beauty of Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage sight and Cat Ba Island, the biggest island nestled therein. We did get to see a very commercialized and overdone cave with special effects and lighting that we could have done without, but the cave itself was certainly spectacular. Ran into Visi alum Erin Murphy and her cousin Jess, yay! Great surprise! Staying in a great hotel— the Holiday View Hotel right on Cat Ba Island. At night, to make up for the loss of excitement in the day, we bought drinks (I should say at least the tour provided 4 sit-down family-style meals!) and hung out near the water with a whole crew of European kids from everywhere. On this side of the globe you don’t get too many Americans, but we met up with a Brazilian (ok not European), several Swedes, two Danes, two French kids, a Dutch girl, and some Aussies. Over two rounds of Tiger beer— first round courtesy of the Danes and second of the French— we laughed, talked travel, sparred country against country, and listened to really bad and really good Swedish pop. Sort of spontaneously generated our own Eurotrip ;)

Well, after evil stares in Hanoi and a mildly less than thrilling trip to Halong Bay (with all its incredible gorgeousness and splendor right there for the taking!), I wasn’t very much looking forward to the 15 hour overnight bus to Hue City in the middle of the country and the encounters that would ensue there. Call me pessimistic, but things just looked a little gray. After 15 hours crunched in a top bunk, debating whether puking was worth the trip to the vomit-urine reeking moving port-o-potty beneath me, and battling in vain with the constant jerking and swaying of a bus that tossed my pillow out from under me so many times during the journey that eventually one of the women sleeping on the floor below (yes sometime during the long night, people boarded the bus and took refuge in heaps on the floor), mistook it for her knapsack and fell fast asleep on it. Neck aching and bladder bursting, we arrived in Hue. Fortunately if I had to do it again, I would since the hours flew by, I’d just recommend picking a better bus. Did I mention that I raised a fuss with Lucky Hotel and got us a discount, yes a discount on the bus of midnight horrors. Hahaha. Oh how that works out. Anyway, dazed and still dozing we climb off the bus instantly assaulted by hawkers trying to get us to stay at this hotel and that for the cheap, cheap, cheap madam price of $2 or $3 a night for a shared room.

Spotting a beefy White guy next to a slender Vietnamese girl, we ran over and asked where he was from. Hue Backpacker’s Hostel he told us and in a moment’s notice we were off in a taxi to the hostel with a new arrival we met in the taxi— Emilie from Holland. Hendo, the name of the hostel owner is unequivocally AWESOME and the hostel was heaven-sent. Not only did they pay for the taxi for the short ride (just a few blocks) to the hostel, they have a convenient lift to pulley our luggage up to the upperdeck terraces that are the open air hallways of each floor, they have a delicious free beers 5-6pm gig, and wonderful 2 for 1 cocktails 8-9pm for Happy Hour every day, free breakfast of bread, jam, butter, fruit (the standard fare), and cozy clean rooms with gorgeous wooden floors and walkways and everyone who works there was simply saintly (thank you How!). They spent over an hour helping me to track and print a boarding pass for my flight the next day, even taking my flash drive to a nearby shop to print while I hung out with the gang. They stayed on the phone to help me sort out a shuttle via Vietnam Airlines to the airport (although I was flying Jetstar) to save me tons of money on an over-priced cab ride, and just all around were an amazing bunch of people to get to know. If ever in Hue again, which will be soon for sure, I would definitely stay there again.
After loading in, we headed on a cute boat ride after haggling forever in the sun to the Thien Mu Pagoda holding the car of the Buddhist monk who burned himself in protest of the Vietnamese regime in 1963. The pagoda is large, beautiful, and full of wonderfully friendly monks that welcomed us happily. From there, on our adorable boat that dropped off two of the owner’s kids for school on the shores of the Perfume River (as it’s called), we went to yet another UNESCO World Heritage site at the Citadel and Imperial Enclosure of Hue where the Emperor lived once upon a time.

We spent hours inside exploring its dilapidated remains and the ongoing restorations of the site which was vastly beautiful. Leaving, we popped over to the Dong Ba market and wandered down its twisty alleys and thoroughfares, the absolute talk of the town everywhere we went— two six foot blonde girls, a blonde Swedish guy, a brown-haired chap, and me. People came and rubbed my skin and smiled and were in general overjoyed to have us in Hue. SUCH A RELIEF from Hanoi and probably the singlemost experience that would ever bring me back to Vietnam. Hue is remarkably warm, friendly, and fun to explore. We went back in time for shopping and happy hours (had a Passionfruit Leg Opener whatever that means, yummy yummy) and spent the night bopping away at the DMZ Bar (walls covered in graffiti of past visitors including a special one I know) and Brown Eyes, a little hole in the wall club filled with smoke and foreigners. It was intensely wonderful and crazy and we met two new kids to add to our now gang of five— two Brits named Laura and Carl traveling for 18 months throughout Asia and Australia. Fabulous, fabulous, but the highlight of my trip was not beautiful places or packed and smoky clubs.

Strolling past with our group, we passed a stand advertising for Vietnamese silk paintings, a specialty of the region. They were gorgeous and well priced so I made note to come back later. When I did, later that night alone, the woman Titi was hands down so sweet it made me want to cry. After the hustle and bustle of Hanoi and the disappointments of Halong Bay, the love this woman exuded made something tremble inside. After I made my purchases, which she spent forever helping me to do patiently, she asked for some help with English homework hearing I was an English teacher and I agreed. After spending nearly forty five minutes with her, I was floored by her constant determination to learn English over many many years from a kind Australian man who was tutoring her for free. Titi at 58 has a lung disease which didn’t quite make it through the language barrier despite her impeccable English for most things and currently she wanted to learn to get a better job to pay for her elderly parents and her crippled brother who hasn’t walked for ages. Despite her constant protests that she is not intelligent just hardworking, I can say that studious as she is her hard work has paid off enormously. Tutoring with her friend, she speaks better English than many of my college students. After a while she admitted that she saw me when I first walked by and thought that I looked like a angel with confidence who knew what she was doing (despite the fact that I was sweating, exhausted, and had no idea where I was going at the time) and she wanted to meet me. Something told her that she would and then I showed up again later that night and she said that when she saw the cross on my neck, she understood why. She was happy to meet someone teaching especially and just wanted to talk, something that doesn’t happen all that much during the selling hours. Although she asked me for nothing in return, there was something about the genuineness of this sweet lady that hit me somewhere deep.

After thinking much last night and today, I have decided that I don't think my time over here is quite finished. something about her made me realize that there's something I've yet to do, to complete before I go and I think that I want to stick around after this year to figure it out. There’s so much more than I ever knew over here and who would have thought that outside of a nutso city with its nose in the air and a fantastically beautiful aqua paradise, I would find this humble town with its happy people and the woman who might just have re-steered the course of my future with a smile, a painting, and some love?