Bizarre

It's been eight months since I've been in Vietnam and nonetheless there is something everyday that stikes me as bizarre. Here is a short list from the past several months.

-puttering along on my motorbike en route to the university I see a deer tied to a post outside the goat meat restaurant. On second thought it must be a large species of goat.

(On a side note: Goat meat is quite tasty. I first tried it in a fresh spring roll with fresh herbs and starfruit. I'm surprised that this meat has flown under the radar in the States for so long as it contains higher protien than beef and even less fat than chicken. Spread the word.)

-a truck rambling past on the freeway to Hanoi full of puppies. These little furry guys aren't going to end up as cuddly pets.

-a gigantic green squash rides shotgun on one man's old Honda Dream Motorbike.

-a old woman seating on the back of a park bench combs through a younger man's (her son?) hair picking out (lice?).  An image banally instinctual to the extent of divine beauty.

Not even realizing it, most of these strange moments here are culinary in nature. Which naturally I find fitting in Vietnam especially when my students inquire about my favorite Vietnamese food before they ask where I'm from.

There are not too many foods that I don't like and dog meat is one of them.  I must be the one who is bizarre, the Tay (Vietnamese slang for Westerner) who detests the filet minogn of meat.

A Full Passport

What happens when there are no more visa pages in your passport?  You apply for more!  My trip to the American consulate in Hanoi to apply for more visa pages perhaps officially dubbed me as an avid traveller.  Several weeks ago, reminiscing through the pages of my passport, I came to the end and realized there are no longer blank pages waiting to be tightly wound into memories.  Chockfull of entry and exit stamps, three different forms of various visas, and copious nostalgia, my passport is a beautiful art form representing my alternative international universe in the past 7 years of my life.  I am no longer the 16-year-old wondering if a passport could ever be entirely filled with diplomatic markings.  Now I only hope I can make a dent into the next pages in the three years still remaining until expiration.  

A full passport.  A full life.  

Traffic

The billboard on Kim Ma street is rather ominous.  The grand billboard with electric displays lists Hanoi traffic accident and fatality statistics.

As I was roaring past today, the statistics were enough to release the twist of my hand on the handle accelerator.  Number of traffic accidents yesterday: 1.  Number of traffic fatalities: 1.  Most of the time when I make the daily turn from Kim Ma street to Lieu Giai, on my way home from work, I send a passing glance to the board.  0 traffic accidents yesterday.  I send an exasperated, whew, in the midst of the roar of traffic.  Right before I swerve around the city bus.  

156 accidents thus far this year.

142 traffic fatalities thus far this year.

What actually constitutes a traffic fatality?  I was left pondering the meaning of this english translation until I inquired.  Death.  142 people have died so far this year from traffic accidents.  Fortunately I haven't seen any terrible accidents yet or dead bodies sprawled on the street.  

Of course there are the fender benders.  Luckily the most damage that I have incurred thus far is cracking the hard white plastic covering of my old Honda Dream when I toppled over in the FPT University parking lot.  Needless to say, maneuvering the bike in small spaces is one of the harder parts of driving.  Most bikes are expertly parked in tight rows outside storefronts and looked after by an attendant.  Most of the time, the attendant hands you a numbered ticket before you park the bike which you must produce along with 2,000 or 3,000 Vietnamese dong ( about 30 cents) when you retrieve your bike later. 

Helmet laws are enforced and perhaps the pollution masks people wear when driving will become a future law.  The surgical looking mask drivers wear to protect against dust and exhaust fumes also serves as a fashion statement.  My cloth mask is a pink, blue, and green floral pattern.  

In terms of rules of the road, there aren't very many.  Or I should say there are rules such as traffic lights, roundabouts, and one-way streets but followed under your own digression.  The no man's land of the road are fairly busy intersections with no traffic signals.  These are best approached with caution and a heavy foot over the break.  Slow down for the tour bus to pass, swerve around the man slowly making his way across the street, speed up before the student on the bicycle collides with you.  

Cliffnotes

There are numerous blog topics in which I could continue writing about in lengthy discussions and descriptions of even minute things in Vietnam.  And it would take me weeks of non-stop writing and contemplating to have polished prose.  So now I list a random assortment.  Consider these the cliffnotes.

I toured a house available for rent two days ago.  I wondered how much it would cost to buy it.  

I need to buy shower shoes for my bathroom.  There are no shower stalls in Vietnam so you just shower yourself with a hose from the bathroom wall.  The problem is when I reenter my bathroom with dirty feet on a wet floor.  

Three days ago I was bitten by bedbugs.  Now when I say "Don't let the bedbugs bite!"  I will speak with experience.

Today I ate streetside bun cha, a lovely Hanoi speciality of juicy bits of pork in fish sauce eaten with rice noodles and fresh herbs.

I love driving my motorbike.  Even after today when I got pulled over for turning left on a red light.  Frankly I was surprised when the policeman blow his whistle.  People commonly drive through red lights with intent.  Unfortunately the policeman spoke English which ruled out my plan to speak English very quickly and shrug my shoulders and shake my head to avoid a ticket.  But thankfully he let me off with a "Be Careful".  I didn't even have to give him bribe money.

Pollution and Corruption are some of Vietnam's biggest urban problems.  

I sleep under mosquito netting.  

Since being in Vietnam, I have received four scarfs as gifts.

I am currently attempting to learn how to sing a Vietnamese pop song.  

In the future, I want to bring little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to my students.  

Vietnam does not have ovens.

Last week I was almost pickpocketed.  I screamed and turned around when I felt someone unzip my backpack.  After reassuring my valuables remained I watched the teenage boy slowly scuffle past me on the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.  I walked 5 feet behind him for 100 meters before he turned the corner.  I was shocked by his audacity, wanted to properly scold him, and tell him to try being a little slicker next time.  Those european pickpockets would laugh in his face.

Lau

Vietnamese hot pot.  My favorite dining experience thus far.  Each time I partake in this wonderful ritualistic gathering for a meal over the simmering pot of broth, I can look around at all the faces who make Vietnam special.  Sitting crossed legged on the floor, I feel more than an honored guest but accepted as a local while my neighbors plop bits of cooked beef, tofu, or pan-fried duck embryo in my ceramic bowl.  Heaps of freshly cut herbs are added to the fragrant communal bowl along with fresh oysters, squid, pig's heart, sheep intestine (tripe), and small balls of pounded pork.  Enough to satisfy variety a gourmet craves.  While a discussion of lau automatically may lead to a further in-depth report of Vietnamese gastronomy, I shall leave that for another post.  For the sake of a treasured national cuisine, I must do it some justice.  And I haven't even been to Hue yet, the ancient capital and home to Vietnam's finest delicacies (dog meat excluded).  

Hot pot is a celebration in itself yet creates lasting memories of special occasions.  My 23rd birthday being one of them.  Sprawled out on the floor, sharing from this single pot brings people together in a way that transcends eating "family style" at a table and chairs.  I watch the gray shrimp turn a mouth-watering pink while picking up some Vietnamese words or two.  Ngon qua.  So delicious.  And it's even tastes better dipped in chili sauce as ubiquitous on the Vietnamese table (or floor) as ketchup in an American diner.  Let's not also forget nuoc mam, or fish sauce, the pungent hazel liquid, the traditional staple condiment in Vietnamese cooking.  By itself, I still have yet to acquire its taste but mixed with a little vinegar, lime juice, sugar, and chilies, it is quite a wonderfully delicate burst of flavor.

At the end of the hot pot meal enters noodles, varying from the wispy-like rice noodles to packaged instant noodles added to each bowl along with the nutrient-rich broth.  Best enjoyed slurping from your bowl to your heart's delight.  

Capturing Sound

I can't do Vietnam justice with a camera. Of course each picture illuminates some feature of Vietnam, a motorbike, a lake, a spread of Vietnamese dishes, a food stall vendor in a conical hat, yet when I peruse the photos I have taken thus far, I never feel satisfied with these momentos. None seems to capture the quintessential or invoke my feelings toward Vietnam. And how can I even begin to use words to orally describe my surroundings to those who inquire: "So, Vietnam, what is that like?" The closest I can come in words would be an onomonpeic poem of the daily sounds.

As a Christmas gift I receieved a digital voice recorder which I hope to capture the sounds of Vietnam as an instinctual way to truly feel life in Vietnam.  Sound is deeply imbedded in culture and I can't pronounce the Vietnamese language well without sounding sing-songy myself.  Sound makes Vietnamese challenging yet fun to learn especially as I learn words that are separated in meaning only by the tone of voice. Upon meeting another foriegner named Bo, I remarked, "Why in Vietnamese you name means, father, beef, and region"! 

Before I left for Vietnam I only wish that I would have brought with me some more songs in my bag of tricks. "Sing a song," my students plead with me.  I don't consider myself a good singer, I can simply hold a tune but that is all that seems to matter to the people here as they applaud enthusiastically after I belt out a humble rendition of my now signature song, Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me". Sometimes I feel like I am living part of High School Musical: Vietnam. 

Not surprisingly then, Vietnamese love karaoke.  They like some English groups that I have never heard of. "You don't know, 'Michael Learn to Rock'?" a friend prods me with a look of shock. I guess groups like these never made it in the US or their respective English speaking countries but found a niche market in the Asian karaoke scene.  Go figure.

New Years Resolutions

Welcome 2009—The Year of the Ox.  This year hopes to be full of industriousness and I have found the perfect new year’s resolution to match—blog more, much more.  Thus far in Vietnam I haven’t written as much as I would have liked and was lowered to jotting down notes before falling asleep, or a quick one-liner in a Microsoft word document.  Not too mention the water-logged journal I had to savage after the Halloween floods.  I dedicate the rest of this blog to the steadfast ox and the load he bears with my humble words. 

Upon returning from the States after a last-minute surprise visit on Christmas to my family, the realization that I actually have a life here in Hanoi makes me a bit uneasy.  Or perhaps it’s the reality that I now have the desire and ability to plop myself anywhere in the world and set up camp for myself.  And with this reality life continues to simultaneously unravel and create mystery. 

Today I am back and after a call to my friend we take lunch at a street stand to digress in a new variation of bun cha, the classic Hanoian specialty.  Juicy fatty pieces of pork served in the ubiquitous mixture of fish sauce, lime juice, and sugar.  Thin rice noodles and a bountiful plate of mixed fresh herbs aiding in digestion and palette cleanser.  I missed the food of Vietnam.  While we sit and lunch I trade my battered brown shoes for blue plastic slippers with an entrepreneurial young shoe-shiner.  After 10 minutes my worn mary janes are looking brand new.  After settling the both bills I realize life is great.  A delicious meal and a shoe shine for under $2. 

I met the real Mai Trang today.  My friend’s uncle is the owner of Khach San Mai Trang- Hotel Mai Trang I stayed at for two weeks and bears its namesake from his daughter, Mai Trang.   A very nice, friendly girl and for the sake of her esteem I hope Hotel Mai Trang continues to be a successful business. 

I close with a snippet from my current tune on my itunes “Rock and Roll” by Eric Hutchison.  Lately, as I have been hopping cultures in the past month (Vietnam, China, USA) life seems to be a simply a matter of doing what you feel and looking around in wonder.

“If he wants to rock he rocks 
If he wants to roll he rolls 
He can roll with the punches 
Long as he feels like he's in control 
If he wants to stay he stays 
If he wants to go he goes 
He doesn't care how he gets there 
Long as he gets somewhere he knows” –Eric Hutchinson