Gravity Games 2012

Posted on April 24, 2012 by Chris

So, this past weekend, the guy who runs the VietClimb climbing gym organized the 2012 Gravity Games to highlight the urban sports in Vietnam.  The opening ceremony had some folks demo their skills riding their BMX bikes, doing their parcour flips, working their push hands, precisely inline skating around small obstacles, and juggling the soccer ball.

There were more activities, but … climbing is what consumed most of my time.  I entered the competition to show that Hanoi does have a climbing community. I’m happy to say I completed all the routes I attempted, which put me in the final 8.  Yes, the final 8. Before you think that means I can actually climb well, let me attribute it completely to a slightly strategic series of decisions on my part to take advantage of the scoring system.  There was no value in trying a hard route you couldn’t complete. If you didn’t complete the route, you got no points.  I completed much easier routes and got points every time.  Like I said, there were much better climbers than me who should have been in the top 8, but I didn’t push myself like they did … and I was rewarded.

Just to be clear though, there were 9 competitors  …. Just kidding. We actually had about 20 or so men and women.  It was great to see.  The original plan was 10 routes, but then Jean cut it to 5, then to 4 due to time constraints.

Between rounds of climbing, I did manage to see a few of the other events going on.  There were parcour kids jumping over obstacles, BMX and in-line folks doing the half-pipe bringing back childhood memories of not ever being able to skateboard.  There were also the skateboarders.  What was neat, for me at least, was that the folks doing this really were kids.  Just give them about 10yrs and they activities that put them on the fringe of Vietnamese culture and society may become quite mainstream.

I got this clip of some kids in the popping (I think that’s what they’re calling it) demo.

At the end of the day, you could see the traditional Vietnamese culture pressing on the urban sport culture.  There is little open space in Hanoi, so people squeeze their activities into any space they can find, hence the appeal of activities like parcour, climbing, and theatrical street soccer skill displays.  The more traditional Vietnamese past times, by traditional I mean what I see everyone doing since I’ve arrived, include badminton, walking, and gyrating in unaesthetic, inathletic ways that leave me wondering how they haven’t dislocated their back or shoulder.

The two worlds collided when the skaters had to move their platform to make way for the folks setting up the badminton nets. The park which had been open enough for skaters to get speed quickly filled with people from the neighborhood using the park.

Dong Da Park Around 5pm

Left is the Climbing Area, Right is the main stage

Overall, it was a beautiful day weather-wise and it was fun to be there, feeling the energy from the competitors and the participants.  Next year, mark the 2013 games on your calendar.

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29 Hours in a Van

Posted on April 9, 2012 by Chris

Cao Bang Trip Map

Made w/ Google Maps

Over the Hùng Kings Death Anniversary weekend (aka, 3-day holiday weekend), we went to Cao Bằng province way up in the north of Vietnam on the border with China.  It’s only a 200km away (about 125 miles, give or take).  But, I think I mentioned our trip to Hà Giang in December. You know, 8 hrs in a car one day, 4 the next, then back home in another 8, douchey driver, gorgeous mountains.  Well, Cao Bằng has similarly rugged geography, so we were in for a treat.  I just didn’t know how special the treat would be.

But who are these Hùng Kings that they warrant a day off work?  Well, I don’t know them personally, so I looked them up on the most trusted reference website on the Internet … Wikipedia of course.  The article, which needs citations and rambles a bit, says that the first Hung King is the child of deities Lạc Long Quân (the Dragon King of Lạc) and Âu Cơ.  Apparently the marriage didn’t last because Long was from water (nước) and Âu Cơ was from earth (đất). So they parted ways, he going south, and she north. Each was followed by 50 of their children who had sprung from Âu Cơ’s magical egg sack. The eldest son who went north became Vietnam’s first monarch –  Hùng Vương.  So naturally, he needs a holiday.

In present day reality, the trip organizer wanted to transport us back into this magical time and land by having the driver loop from Hanoi to Lạng Sơn to Cao Bằng back to Hanoi through Thai Nguyen.  Take a look at the map I’ve posted of our three-day trip, except replace the word “trip” with “ordeal” and you’re closer to what it actually felt like.  None of us had really paid attention to the itinerary and location of any of the destinations on the itinerary.  Our trip organizer wanted to have us visit Pác Bó Cave, where Ho Chi Minh planned the revolution, visit the Bản Giốc  waterfalls, a cave near by, an ethnic village, and then head home.  All, great, except for the roads. The roads directly tie to the title and the math exercise we’re going to go over at the end of the post.

Truck on Side (Cao Bang, near Ban Gioc Waterfall)

Bumpy Road, yes, it's a truck on its side

Did I mention the roads were bad?  Apparently, no one told this driver, because they overloaded the truck so it could fall over onto its side when the uneven patches and bumped nudge the heavy load just past the chassis’ recovery point.  These guys are lucky. Lucky, their truck didn’t wind up falling off the side of a hill.  Better yet, they’re lucky they didn’t ride motorbikes head on into a bus. Yes, we saw all this on the roads in north Vietnam within the span of about 30 hours.

 

Over the edge

Over the ledge

What exactly did we see?  Well, we hit traffic between Lạng Sơn and Cao Bang town because there was a massive truck with a wench trying to pull a semi and trailer up a hill. The semi had gone over the hill a few days earlier. This was entertainment for the locals until one of my friends started passing out cookies.  Then he became the entertainment.

After we made it to Cao Bang, we headed to the Pac Bo caves, about an hour away, then headed home around sunset. We hit another traffic jam.  Up ahead, two bodies lay covered by a piece of cardboard, a motorbike, a small impromptu shrine with half-burned incense sticks, and a bus whose windshield had a head-sized shatter pattern on the driver side window.  According to the locals who gathered at the scene, the accident had been cordoned off since about the time we went to Pac Bo – around 4.30pm. It must have happened shortly after we passed by. The problem was the local police had been unable to fill out the accident scene report.  Part of the problem could have been that when one of the policemen was practicing his flame-spitting routine for the traveling carnival earlier in the day, but he got confused about whether to spit or swallow the alcohol, so he swallowed mouthfuls of pure grain alcohol and wondered why he wasn’t spitting flames. How do I know this was what he was doing?  Well, let’s just say if I had been smoking (which I don’t) when he came to tell me and my friend to get back on the bus, we would have seen the trick work from the alcohol fumes emanating from his mouth about 3 feet away.  In case the description is a little to tongue-in-cheek, the po po was wasted.

While ignoring the police man’s request to go back into the van, only after complying and watching him walk away to look officially drunk elsewhere, one of the bystanders told someone in our group the bus driver had left the scene and gone to the police. Our trip coordinator later explained Vietnamese law allows this because often times the family shows up to the accident scene and kills the driver of the vehicle that killed their loved one. Our trip coordinator also, with a straight face, told us she knew something like this would happen because we had passed by two weddings earlier in the day. It’s bad luck to not stop at a wedding. It’s also Vietnamese tradition to be wary of the ghost of people who die on the road. To help the hungry ghosts (ma đói) get home, the Vietnamese throw a little bit of money on the ground.

Our met our final road incident when we left the Ban Gioc waterfall, beginning our long, long, long bumpy return to the hotel in Cao Bang.  I don’t need to explain that load planning and road condition checks are not a regular part of the transportation industry’s pre-departure checklist. As you might imagine, really heavy, tall loads on bumpy roads that make things sway violently might lead to some tricky situations. Like the one where the load swing so far beyond the truck’s ability to counter balance it that the truck falls on its side. I’ll bet the guys in the cab were banged up and probably a bit dazed, but at least they were alive.  Again, locals gathered and watched as the traffic backed up in both directions.  They had no incentive or reason to help, so they joked and giggled as one of my fellow trip-goers began digging away at the high embankment (that you can’t see in the photo above) so our driver could pass.

You just have no idea how remote and isolated these places are until you get there. It simply reminds me how amazing the roads are in the U.S.  When I was growing up, we’d do a road trip to visit my grandparents in New Orleans. My sister and I always knew we were in Louisiana because the road quality went from good in Florida to the tha-thump of the Louisiana highways. Still, even these relatively poorly maintained roads would be diamond standard roads pretty much anywhere in Vietnam.  Heck, even the beach road in Biloxi after Hurricane Katrina was in better condition than some of Vietnam’s paved roads.  Distance becomes meaningless because the road conditions don’t let you drive with any appreciable speed.  Instead, you talk about how long it takes to get from one place to the next.

Cao Bang Time Pie Chart

I like data

All this driving meant we were in the car for about 8-12 hours on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday – all three days of our three-day weekend in honor of the Hung Kings. Now for that math problem. More precisely than 3 days, which implies a full 72 hours, we left at 6am Saturday morning, so our clock starts then. We were back on Monday at 6pm. That gives us 60 hours. Let’s pretend we slept for 16 hours (8 each on Saturday and Sunday night), so we have 44 left over. Now take away the time in the car – roughly 29 hours – that leaves 15 hours not in the car for the weekend. A majority of that time was lunch, dinner, and waiting for the next “activity” to start. We spent about 5hrs doing activities in the North – like visiting the waterfall and visiting the market across from our hotel.  Please see the pie chart for visualization.

Between long stretches in the car, we did manage to see the waterfalls and visit an ethnic minority village.  I think they were ethnic Tay people, but what I loved was the massive tree marking the cluster of homes that were surrounding by big limestone hills and flat, greening rice paddies.  The setting was stunning. The girl staring blankly at a water buffalo is a stark reminder that we, the outsiders, get to go home to books, Internet, TV, and other modern amenities. They have few prospects for to leave the mind numbing tedium of village life. The women will work in the fields, cook, and raise children while the men occasionally work, often drink home-brewed rice whiskey, and join in the field at critical times.

Upper Falls

Bản Giốc, Upper Falls

Village Life, Bored

Village Life, Bored

We cut our trip to the village a bit short, mainly because we needed to get back to the hotel and the thought of riding on terrible roads in the dark was terrifying.  But, the entry of the town’s policeman into the home where we had already sipped down home-brewed rice whiskey, and his subsequent filling of the rice whiskey bottle helped precipitate a prompt exit from the man’s home.  There’s something just strange about a group of 8 men and boys sitting around at 5pm in a house sipping shots with no women to be seen except in the field.

Luckily, we made it back to Hanoi without incident.  Lunch outside Thai Nguyen was delicious, the road was paved, and the driving relatively smooth.  We passed two funerals, therefore our trip organizer knew, we would have good luck.  Why? Just like passing a wedding is bad luck, someone else’s death and mourning is your good fortune for getting to avoid more hungry ghosts.

Would I go back to Cao Bang?  Absolutely.  The landscape up there is the landscape that captured my imagination years ago and made me want to visit China. Huge limestone hills, rocks, and massifs dot a pastoral landscape.  It’s remote, the air is clean, and borders have all sorts of interesting things that happen there.  Next time, I’ll take more time.  Of course, I said the same thing about going to Hà Giang … so who knows.

Full photo set on Flickr.

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Limestone & Excitement

Posted on March 11, 2012 by Chris

Vietnam has a lot of limestone. They use it to make concrete (as in scraping massive limestone karsts away bit by bit), they use it to make temples (as in, put a shrine in a cool looking cave), and we use it to climb on (as in, put in some bolts and let’s do a little sport climbing).
I’m hardly a good climber, but I do enjoy it. This weekend, I was able to go out with the folks at VietClimb for the first time to the climbing crag about 25km to the west of Hanoi in the rural district (huyện) Quốc Oai, right on the premises of the Hoang Xa temple (Chùa Hoàng Xá).
I took a taxi out there because I’m still a bit terrified to drive a motorbike through the traffic of Hanoi. It’s just too easy for me to imagine myself smashed up by an idiot truck driver or cut-off by some punk kid texting on his phone. Though many Vietnamese text while riding their motorbikes, young boys here, like in most places in the world, are the absolute most dangerous people on the road. Lucky for those of us in Hanoi, taxis are not terribly expensive. For me, the $15 cab fare in a Thanh Nga taxi is like insurance and well worth it.
I wasn’t exactly sure where the crag was. Jean, the owner of the VietClimb gym and the main architect of the bolted sport routes in Quoc Oai, said there was a map on the website, on the Facebook page, etc, but I couldn’t find it. At least I knew to look for the temple. As you drive out of Hanoi, though, it’s pretty flat. When you see a big limestone rock rise from the rice paddies, and it’s the only one around for miles, it’s probably a good guess that you’re in the right place.
It turns out, I was. I wandered around the town for a few minutes asking where the temple was and quickly found a group of folks crowded along a narrow dirt path, climbers aloft and belayers below. I was in the right spot.
I climbed four routes and then my forearms were done. Though I go pretty regularly to the VietClimb gym, climbing short indoor routes doesn’t necessarily give you the endurance to climb long routes up. It’s more incentive to do more outdoor climbing. Despite being weak, I enjoyed the routes because, for a beginner like me, there were plenty of big handholds to rest on. I made it to the top of three routes, and gave up on the longest one. Next time.
It was fun being outside, it was fun climbing, it was even fun hearing the man in the rice paddy yelling something at the water buffalo. I even enjoyed the view from up high a few times. Next time, I’ll climb up there with my camera.
What makes the spot special is not necessarily the routes; you can probably find more spectacular stuff elsewhere. Rather, it’s the setting. We’re in a rural village just outside Hanoi where life doesn’t appear to have changed much in the past one hundred years, except by what is in the shops and how people get around. Buildings are run-down, people work in the fields. There just isn’t a whole lot going on. Still, there was something really charming about the place.
What is charming about a town trapped in poverty? Nothing. Except perhaps their reaction to me, seeming to be the only westerner they’ve ever seen, when you consider these folks only live about 25km outside Hanoi, have motorbikes, and likely have been to Hanoi many times. After I finished climbing, I headed to look for a taxi along the big Thăng Long highway that runs into Hanoi. I walked through the rice paddies where people were bailing water from irrigation ditches into the paddies. At a bend in the path, there was an old lady, young boy, and a guy on a motorbike watching. The boy shouted “Westerner!” (in Vietnamese of course). I said, “Yes, there is a Westerner here.” The kid didn’t hear me because he was too busy pointing me out to his friend who just rode up, but a man on the motorbike chuckled. I should have asked, “Where?”
It seems strange that so close to Hanoi, the presence of a westerner can be the source of excitement. It must seem equally strange to someone living in Hoàng Xá that a big limestone rock that has been in their village forever would be the source of a westerner’s excitement.

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Huế

Posted on November 19, 2011 by Chris

In November, I went to Huế to give a talk to physics students who are in a mirror program with the best university in the world. I am, of course, talking about the University of Virginia.  It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I graduated from the school or how little I’ve contributed to any of the school’s funds, I love UVa and proclaim it pretty much any opportunity I have.

To be offered the opportunity to sing the praises of UVa and the Physic Department, as official business, well that’s an opportunity too excellent to resist.  My talk was not so blatantly rah-rah UVa, but more along the lines of my life experiences that brought me to be talking to the 40 or so students gathered around that afternoon.  The theme of my talk was that getting an education in physics is one step toward having a career outside the box.

I was not surprised that no one had heard about the “box” in Vietnam.  I actually planned on this and gave them concrete examples of what the Vietnamese student “box” is.  The box confines students to want to work in a bank or be a manager in a company after they have studied business administration, finance, or accounting.  The stereo type of “Asians” studying in the U.S. is that they study engineering, right?  The graduate engineering and science schools are filled with them.  But as soon as you start looking at where those Asians come from, you find they’re mainly Chinese or Korean.   The Vietnamese are in the MBA programs as far as I can tell.

As with all generalizations, there are always exceptions to the rule.  That goes without saying. But when you’re trying to define what the “box” is to a group of young students, making light of the fact that all their peers are looking to study business to do business is the best way to turn our overused metaphor (is it a cliche?) into something they could actually use.

I was surprised that when I went out with a few of them for dinner that night, that the “outside the box” thinking is what stuck with them the most.  No, I’m not narcissistic to be sad that they didn’t say my life was the most interesting part of the talk, but I didn’t realize that would be the part they would joke about later on.

Overall, the talk was fun.  As much as I try to encourage audience participation, there were only a few people who raised their hands to speak when I asked questions or asked for comments.  Later the professor who helped organize the event said “We have the same problem when the visiting professors come. The first week they’re very quiet, the second week they’re not so shy, and by the third week, you can’t shut them up.” Based on his assessment of the students, I should feel happy that I got any response on day one.

I talked about the student visa process, what a visa really is, and about some scholarship opportunities through the Embassy (Fulbright) and through the university (fellowships).

Aside from the talk with the students, which really was the highlight of the trip, I had some other related work that had me run around the city.  My impression of the city is that while it is scenic, it is depressed.  Vinh City in Nghe An province may not be a tourist destination, but at least there are car and motorbike dealerships all over the place.  There is obviously money flowing into the town.

Hue on the other hand, looks stagnant.  Even the taxi driver we had said there were no big companies or factories near by to employ people. Tourists would come for a day or two, then keep going to Da nang or Hoi An.  They would tour the tombs, but not really spend much money in the city.

You could see the taxi driver’s commentary backed up by the small shops and businesses that lined the streets.  There were no big-name shops, there weren’t really any big shops at all.  There were some places to buy motorbikes, but there weren’t any obvious car dealerships.  Traffic in general was not a problem.  At rush hour, there were lots of cars on the scenic bridges connecting the two sides of the city, but this was not Hanoi or HCMC.

What stood out in my mind was the hospital that we visited.  It is a huge facility in the middle of the city that has been supported by Japanese and U.S. donations.  There is a cardiac wing, a general ward, a ward for pregnant mothers, and has a full range of imaging modalities.  Basically, the doctors there said if you get hurt anywhere in the middle of the country, you’re going to wind up at that hospital.  It’s the best.  It’s probably better than most of the hospitals in Hanoi.  So, if there is any place to get hurt in Vietnam, it’s in Hue.

Although you would think that a large hospital like this would be an anchor for jobs and businesses in the area, the problem is that the jobs are mostly government jobs on low salaries.  So, it’s not quite the same as a hospital in the US that would have well-paid doctors and administrators who sink money back into the local economy.  Although doctors wind up getting paid in Vietnam, it’s not based on their salary, it’s based on the inducements required to facilitate expedient service (aka: no money, no treatment).

I’ll finish by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed being in Hue.  The city sits along a beautiful bend in the Perfume River, has a number of neat hotels that overlook the old citadel, and has some good food if you know where to find it.  That said, there is a poverty that lies beneath the surface of the nicer looking tourist areas.  Don’t be fooled, but enjoy nonetheless.

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Hoi An

Posted on October 18, 2011 by Chris

Stylish Coat

The Stylish Coat I was Never Allowed to Wear, circa 2005

What can I say about Hoi An, the UNESCO designated World Heritage Town?  How about: “Deliciously relaxing, relentlessly sewing garment town?”  I came to Hoi An in early 2005 and loved the town.  I have to say it was one of the highlights during my travels through Vietnam.  Despite the local’s efforts to persuade you to buy, buy, buy, the town seemed like a great place to relax.

Six years later, just as many garment shops line the streets, with all their employees inviting you come in to have something made.  People selling tourist trinkets still demanded that you buy from them.  Western tourists – young backpackers and older, package-tour travelers alike – still mostly outnumbered the Vietnamese in the old section of town.  Little appears to have changed.

I don’t remember much from Hoi An the first time around except that I loved the food, I loved sitting by the river and looking at the boats, and I got a bunch of clothes made that I really didn’t wear much.  My better half always made fun of one of my coats, so I donated it to the New York Cares Coat Drive.  Now a needing New Yorker now has a pretty flash winter trench coat.  I also donated most of the rest of the clothes I had made in Hoi An, but I do still use the stuff sacks.

This time, I didn’t really want any clothes made.  I’d like to say it has to do with an intellectual stance that stems from a graduate degree in development, talking with visa applicants in the garment industry, and reading Pietra Rivoli’s The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy, but really, it’s about being lazy.  You would think that getting good clothes in Vietnam would be easy.  Lots of the good stuff we wear in the US is made here, right?  There are tailors everywhere begging you to let them make beautifully fitted garments for you.  Your imagination is the limit.

Well, the global distribution chains preclude the good quality stuff from being available here in Vietnam.  Those clothes are made for export. Many companies even buy the cast-offs so they don’t wind up diluting the brand image by being available overseas.  And, then there’s the fact that I’ve done it once and remember the back and forth that goes with getting your clothes fitted – anything that isn’t super simple requires multiple fittings from people who really don’t care.  How can you when you’ve got dozens of different people everyday coming through your shop?  Well, OK, you can, but your pay is not determined by the perfect garment, rather the garment that gets that paying customer out the door and onto their next city.  Because when you’re on holiday, what are the chances that you’re going to come back and complain?  So quality, in general, and easy are kinda out.

Then you add in that I know that the person who made my shirt or jacket or coat earns about $200 per month, at most.  More likely they earn about $150 a month.  Yes, you read it correctly.  One hundred fifty dollars.  I have it on good authority – the workers themselves.  A group from Da Nang came through and I asked each of them what they made. That’s what they told me.

So, when someone says a shirt will cost you $20, you know the worker who spends say 2 hours making that shirt gets somewhere between $1.40 and $1.90 of that $20. The rest is materials, rent, wages for the English speaking staff who took your measurements, and of course profit.  As Pietra points out in her book, the girls in China who are working in textile factories are so much happier doing that in deplorable conditions than the alternative life they left on the farm, where mind-numbingly tedious repetitive tasks await them.  It’s likely the same for the folks in the shops and garment factories where they work in Hoi An.  Still, there’s something galling about the store-front person charging $20 when the person producing what I want doesn’t even see 10% of that.

ArchitectureSo, with all this in mind, I was happy to just look, enjoy the clothes in the windows, enjoy the architecture of the old town, and soak in the little bit of sun we could get before the tropical depression arrived. And arrive it did.  Before we get drenched, though, we got to do my favorite thing: eat.  Not that the two are mutually exclusive, but eating is so much more pleasant when you’re not soaking wet.

My better half did a great job planning for the trip.  She found a highly rated cooking class at the Morning Glory Restaurant.  Let’s just say my faith in Vietnamese food has been revitalized by the delicious dishes we cooked.  I don’t know much about traditional Vietnamese cuisine, but the heavy use of sesame seed and oil, as well as the “Chinese 5 spices” leads me to believe that Chinese traders in the town left their imprint in the cuisine as well as the architecture.  Regardless of who can claim credit for the delicious cabbage soup, the to-die-for mango salad and barbeque chicken, or the bánh xèo, I ate it all and was very, very happy.  The pace of the class was good, as were the portions of food.  The only complaint is that the hard stuff – like some of the pastes and sauces – was already done for us.  But, if that’s my only complaint and the plate below is just one of the things we made and ate … I’m fine with that.

Lunch

Lunch

Back at the hotel, we rested and stayed out of the rain.  For the money, the Hoi An Pacific Hotel was just fine.  It was more expensive and lacked charm.  It was a big Asian hotel.  There’s not much more to say.

Bargaining with people was interesting.  Now that I speak some Vietnamese, it’s a lot more interesting and challenging.  It’s interesting because I can actually talk to them – a little.  It’s challenging because in Hoi An, they speak with the “yuh” of the south.  I would say something like “ow zai” and they would say “ow yai”.  You think that’s not much, but through it into a native speaker’s mouth, at the native speed, add in some weak everyday life vocabulary of the listener (me), and you’ve got a real mind bender coming into your ears when all you wanted to know was how much this thing cost.  It’s not a southern drawl to the New Englander’s ears, it’s a bit more like Spanish and Italian.

In talking and observing, I learned two things.  First, the girl working at the state-run shop selling lanterns and stuff has a ninth grade education.  She said her family had no money for her to continue school, so that was it.  Where is the nearest Blue Dragons office? And why didn’t someone put her there?  (Answer: Blue Dragons has the Hoi An Children’s Home that helps kids who would otherwise drop out of school, and I don’t know why she didn’t go to them.).  What change can this girl see in her future?  Marriage and kids.  That’s about it. I know what makes me sad – it’s not her choice to work in that shop, it wasn’t her choice to stop going to school.  She was born into a family that doesn’t have much money and she’s just stuck in that cycle.

The second thing I learned is that when you actually know what something costs, you’re much better at bargaining.  Let’s go back to dress making.  Marjie has a cute dress that she wanted replicated, except the dress is more like a Sunday outing dress than a work dress.  If you just lengthen the skirt part below the knees, then you could.  Easy, right?  We walked into one shop and asked how much it would cost to replicate the dress.  The employee said $55.  I laughed, said we bought it for $12 in Hanoi, and we walked out.

This simply proves my point. We know what it cost to buy it off the rack.  The other person didn’t. She took a wild guess for a price we might think is reasonable and came up way outside the bounds of what makes any logical sense given that we know about how much it should cost.  Even when you add in a premium for tailor-fit clothes, you would think the cost shouldn’t get much higher than about $20. Oh well.  Next trip, we might try to negotiate from the position of “This cost us $12 in Hanoi, can you make it for a competitive price?”

Though the 9th-grade dropout story makes me sad and the crazy prices of the shopkeepers irritates the crap out of me, I do love Hoi An.  Good food, cool architecture, and best of all, my better half bought 10 small lanterns for $4.  Now that’s a bargain.

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An Observation

Posted on September 12, 2011 by Chris

Not Hanoi

Not Hanoi

How distant Hanoi seems when you’re sitting on the beach sipping mojitos, feeling the breeze from offshore than causes the waves to tumble into the shore, and munching deliciously fresh grilled seafood.  There are no honking motorbikes, no ridiculous traffic, no miles of pavement.  There are simply friends, food, and sea.

Where was this idyllic island?  Just south of the southern tip of Vietnam, on Phu Quoc.  It’s not an island paradise, there are fish sauce factories, let’s be real, but the Mango Bay resort was relaxing with it’s rustic bungalows and excellent food.  The big group of us toured a bit of the island – the aforementioned fish-sauce factory, a gorgeous waterfall, beautiful white-sand beach, and lovely day on choppy water in the bay – and spent the rest of the time doing our own thing.

Sunset

Sunset

I have nothing insightful or profound to offer about our time on Phu Quoc.  When you go to a resort, even a rustic resort, you don’t have many stories because nothing really crazy is supposed to happen.  You go, you have a great time, take some photos, enjoy the break from crazy Hanoi where you might get run over or find that you snap when the creepy guy in the building talks to you one too many times about some random subject in broken English, and hope to hang onto that bliss.

At this point you’re wondering, “If you’ve called this ‘An Observation’ and you’re not observing anything about Phu Quoc, when are you going to get to the point?”  I’ll ramble on.  The rest of the week away was a TDY assignment to the Consulate in Ho Chi Minh City where they do about triple the non-immigrant visa volume per day and have one of the busiest immigrant visa sections (5th is the number I hear thrown about).  What’s interesting to observe here?

Fingerprints.  Yes, this is additional proof that women do all the work in this country.  You see it on the streets everywhere.  It’s women who carry those old bamboo poles with thirty pounds of produce hanging off both ends. It’s women on the sidewalk setting up the portable luncheon food stall. It’s women in the market. It’s women in the rice paddies.  Where are the men? Sitting, smoking, drinking.

The women work so much it wears into their bodies, into their prints.  This past week, I had to take fingerprints (no ink, just a scanner).  In doing a few hundred, I saw a few few categories of people.  There are men (or boys) of any age; there are young girls; and then there are the women older than about 25 or so.  Men, even men from the farm, seem to have good fingerprints.  They can press hard and their fingers reach the scan areas much better.  Younger folks – students or recent graduates – also have nice prints. Why?  They haven’t worked yet or gotten married.  It’s the 25+ women’s hands that show they who does the work that holds the country together.  They’re fingerprints are cracked and scarred by what I can only guess is cooking, cleaning, and perhaps even the type of work they do in the field.  Almost every woman has some sort of her fingerprint look like a sun-parched lake bed in Death Valley.  Work simply wears their prints away.

I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked at this.  I may even be wrong about why there is such a difference, but I’m pretty sure it’s the harsh chemical cleaners that must leave the skin dry and cracked.  I wish I had a photo to show what I mean, but it’s really not necessary.  Like I said before, you go on the street and see who is hustling for the family and who is lounging on the motorbike puffing a cigarette waiting for something to happen.  And there you have it; a ramble that lead to an observation.

 

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Chua Thay

Posted on August 7, 2011 by Chris

A couple weeks ago, we went with one of our friends to Chua Thay, the Teacher’s Pagoda, just outside Hanoi.  It’s amazing how quickly the density of the urban cityscape gives way to the open rural rice paddies.  It’s almost as if you’re traveling back in time.  Except, the honking of horns and motorbikes whizzing by constantly reminds you you’re in a decidedly modern setting.

Our friend, the tour guide, knew how to get to Chua Thay.  The driver of the taxi did not.  As with most taxi drivers, the driver did not pay attention to the directions of the people in the car who actually know where they’re going, and instead continued on, missing the road leading to the village and requiring a 10 or so minute detour.  What’s 10 minutes in the big scheme of things?  Nothing, really.  But we have to pay for the pleasure of the driver’s reluctance to take our directions.  When you add up every time a taxi driver has driven you some crazy way to a place you know well, it just get frustrating.

Swiss Town in Vietnam

Lucky for us, the perfect solution to the frustrations of worldly life lay ahead of us in the blissfully serene Chua Thay.  We drove through a rice paddy just off the main highway, past a sign advertising a massive, cookie-cutter development reminiscent of huge housing developments in the US, and into a town with a pond and a limestone mountain in the center.  Our friend and guide told us this place is where the first water puppet show in Vietnam took place.

Toaist Buddha

Toaist Buddha

Walking into the temple, rather than find the quiet respite from a busy world, we found a lively celebration. The temple was not just a museum piece, people actively came to pray to the Buddha, Vietnamese hero deities, and Toaist gods.  Our friend explained the iconography, symbolism, and bits of history about how the Buddhist, Confucian, animist, Toaist, and ancestral spirit worship practices wove themselves into a mutually beneficial religious tapestry.  In this image (on the right), you have a Toaist representation of the various things that happen to you in hell.  But right in the middle are two golden Buddhas.

Mountain Shrine

Mountain Shrine

Moving up the mountain, we saw a few other shrines.  I can’t remember to whom each of the shrines were dedicated, but I do remember thinking about how green and peaceful the place is.  From two spots, you can look out from the hill top into the countryside.  What better place to focus on another world with views of rocks, rice, and life below?

Also in the mountain was a massive cave. Light filtered through a few holes cutting through the darkness and humidity like a laser.  I could see why this cave would be a great place to meditate in the summer time because it was about 10 degrees cooler inside.

Lasers

Lasers

After we made our way out of the cave, through the town, past the new temple, and back to the taxi, we passed through many different worlds.  There was the spiritual world, the tourist trail, normal village life, and then back to our own lives.  When you’re trapped in your routine, it’s hard to picture another way of living or doing things.  Trips to places like Chua Thay break that routine.  The monks who lived, taught, and died there for hundreds of years worked to create a tranquil environment that could help the mind focus on detachment.  Even though I don’t understand the meaning of the symbols, scenes, and statuary in the pagodas and shrines, I could still benefit from the tranquility.

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The Weekend

Posted on August 1, 2011 by Chris

It’s obvious what I should write about now. Marjie and I went to Ninh Binh this past weekend to enjoy the luxury of a soft opening at the Ana Mandara. I’d put a link to their website, but I can only find reviews and articles about the resort.

Tub with a View

Let me be clear, the weekend was a blast, but there was always something nagging me. We paid a fair to high price for what got. Can you complain about a bathroom with a view like this? Probably not, aside from the fact that anyone on the second floor of that building in the distance can look in, so … nice try. The buildings for the Deluxe Bungaloos had intricate wood carvings and traditional looking ceilings with exposed cross beams. Despite the initial appearance of luxurious elegance it only takes a few attempts to open or lock the bathroom door, the one call to maintenance to show you how hard you have to pull to unlock your door, and seeing water stream into the room during a heavy rain storm to realize the resort was not necessarily designed with attention for certain environmental factors that seem to afflict Vietnam – heat and rain. See, when it rains, you’d like to think your room is not at risk of flooding because the door doesn’t really seal when it closes. And, you’d like to think for the money poured into the wood and carvings that the designers also thought about perennial power shortages and high electricity prices, resulting in a beautiful, highly energy efficient bungalow. Not really, there were many holes to the outside where A/C could escape and bugs could enter. For the days when the weather encourages you to open the window, the lack of screens and mosquito nets coupled with pools of standing water making you decide between saving the planet or getting malaria.

Alright, enough griping. OK, well almost. The food was really expensive and there wasn’t much variety. It tasted good, but it just wasn’t worth what we had to pay.

That was it. All the little quirks aside, we loved our weekend there. We took a tour of the area to visit the three caves – Tam Coc – a few temples, the green pagoda – Bich Dong – and took a long bike ride around the Van Long Nature preserve.

Did I mention it rained all weekend? Well it did. And I think we loved what we did even more. Marjie was hell bent on taking a tour to see the caves. I was less than enthusiastic – another tour? in the rain? really? I could tell this was not a battle that could be won, so I went along. She was excited and loved it. I loved it, too. I’m glad she was unwavering in her determination to brave the fringe weather of a tropical storm to check these places out.

The River and Karsts

We were rewarded with lovely views of a karst lined river. We saw old temples. While not trying to be Theroux poo-pooish, the sites were only slightly marred by the stream of tourists, buses, and tourist service facilities that surrounded each of the attractions. The whole series of attractions was like a theme park for Vietnamese history. Think of Bush Gardens in Williamsburg, but much more legit and filled with locals trying to sell you all sorts of souvenirs.

I have to say, my favorite part of the weekend was riding around the Van Long preserve because we were on our own, didn’t need to listen/talk to a guide, and we could just go at our own pace. Aside from getting soaked in the last 20minutes of the ride, the other two hours took us through some ruddy roads, jungle, and around the big mountains. Next time we’ll actually get into the preserve with our own inflatable kayaks.

Though this may not be the most well thought out, insightful piece, I want to get back into the habit of writing. My one observation, confirmed during a conversation on the shuttle on the way to work, is that land use here in Vietnam leaves much to be desired. There’s no coordination across the country, so you wind up with massive concrete plants in pristine places that sit idle. You have massive industrial parks that are connected to no major economic center because the roads are terrible. You have massive resorts that likely employ local people, but they’re right smack in the middle of traditional rice paddies.

 

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What this Man Wants

Posted on June 5, 2011 by Chris

It’s Sunday night after a nice weekend of getting none of my main tasks done.  I did however get my Nook Color rooted with great, easy to follow instructions from Maurine Mongeon.  That was an accomplishment only because it took quite some time to write the .img files on the microSD card.

But that’s not really why I’m writing.  As I await my household goods patiently, I think about the things I look forward to most.  They are not the things you might think a person who recently moved continents and left all friends and family behind might pine for.  What are they?

First, a bit of back story, the shipment was originally supposed to arrive in Hanoi around 19 May.  I headed back for a wedding on the 13th of May, so I had arranged for delivery of my stuff on the 24th.  Incoming folks get a ‘Welcome Kit’ which includes stuff like a TV, sheets, silverware, etc.  My sponsor recommended getting the Welcome Kit packed up and shipped out before my stuff was delivered because it just makes it easier to keep track of whose stuff is whose.  I thought, that’s a great idea, so I had the folks pack everything up on the 13th, I went to sparring class, got beat up, showered, and hopped on the plane bound for Tokyo/NYC.

I arrive back on 23 May, read through my emails on the morning of 24 May only to find that there is no delivery of stuff for the 24th.  As a matter of fact, the container is in Singapore waiting for more crap to fill it up.  Hmm … now I have an empty apartment with no plates, no silverware (but I do have really sharp knives!), no pots, etc.  At least I have amazing sheets.

As of this Thursday (2 Jun), the container should have arrived on Friday and I should have my stuff perhaps by Wednesday (the 8th), or so.  Just another part of the game, right?  Ship and wait.

So what am I missing?  In order of descending importance, or read another way the item at the top of my list would produce the single largest decrease my overall level of annoyance by not having it.

  1. I Need a Garbage Can

    I Need a Garbage Can

    A tall garbage can – though the one we got for the wedding won’t fit under the sink and will look out of place in the kitchen, it surely beats the current arrangement.

  2. Any other sized garbage cans – so I can occasionally through things away in the bathroom without having to walk to the kitchen.
  3. Dish drying rack – as you can see, a pasta strainer works well … until you need to strain pasta.
  4. Bath mat
  5. Tripod – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to take photos on my balcony that require the rock steady stillness that only a tripod can provide.  Tonight is a good example.  There was awesome lightning in the sky that I could have captured, maybe, but the crazy safety and balancing system I put together on my balcony ledge was a little too precarious and slip shod to trust for the length of time I would need for a good shot.  Instead, this is all you get (see below).
  6. Mustard – I haven’t wanted to buy it here because I know it’s on the way.  Nothing else tastes as good on a sandwich of dark bread, tomato, and cheese.  Though the chili fish sauce is good, it’s just not the same.
  7. Pepper grinder – one of the Vietnamese guys on the soccer team brought pepper from a family farm for folks.  I can’t wait to use it.
Need a Dish Rack

I Need a Dish Rack

Anything stand out as a shocker?  Perhaps nothing on the list is that shocking.  Perhaps it’s just that when Marjie put the garbage can on the registry, I wondered “why the hell do we want garbage cans on our registry?”  She was very persistent about wanting them, and very excited to get one.  Now, I’ll be excited when that silly garbage can arrives.  Oh how life’s pleasures change over time.

To make myself feel better about being excited about a garbage can and dish drying rack, I will say that I brought the stuff I care about most with me, which includes all the electronics crap, camera, address list, and good pens.  If I didn’t have the computer and regular Internet, I’d be crazy right about now … or I’d be insanely smart from having read a lot of books.  Or I’d be brain dead from watching River Monsters and Man, Woman, Wild because those were the only shows that ever seemed to be on TV.

All I got from the crazy storm and lightning show today …

 

Front of the Front

Front of the Front

Lightning

Lightning

The video below isn’t really all that great, but you can see the wind suck the curtains right out of the apartment. When I step outside, you can’t see anything, but you can hear the ‘howl’ of the wind and rain if you have your volume up.

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The Weekend

Posted on May 31, 2011 by Chris

This past Memorial Day, a team of folks flew down to Ho Chi Minh City to compete in the 2011 Mission Cup.  The flight to Saigon (we can say that) was only about 2 hrs and came with a delicious meal of instant raman and fish – or pork.  Though I poke fun at the food on the flight, at least they served it on a 2hr hop.  Can you imagine a US airline these days offering you free bathroom privileges on a flight that short?

The Pack

The Pack

But, I digress.  There are few photos from the weekend because I packed light.  I only had my 65 liter REI Flash backpack …   No, it wasn’t full, but you’ve got to have the essentials.  Changes of clothes, cleats, your uniform, stuff to read, a small bag of 1st Aid items (ibuprofin, moleskin, bandaids, and sports tape), etc.  My only complaint about the pack is that the detachable top does not have a strap to convert it into something like a messenger bag you can sling over the shoulder.

But I digress, again.  The whole point of the pack photo is to add visual appeal given that I didn’t bring my big camera down to HCMC and instead relied on my iPod for photographic masterworks.  I took no photos at the game, took few photos of sights, and even fewer of food.

Despite the crushing, 3-0 loss, I had a good time in HCMC.  Fortunately, I can claim I had no part in the loss because I was never on the field.  Or perhaps that’s the reason.  My nuclear-powered uniformed was not dirtied up by the diluvial rains that started as soon as the referee blew the starting whistle.  Hence, my shining beacon of a uniform on the sidelines (and dug out to avoid said rains) blinded my teammates, prohibiting stellar displays of ball skills and team work.  I don’t think the field turned swamp had anything to do with our loss, or the hometown refs.  Not that the Tigers don’t deserve their victory … But we’ll get the cup back next year.

The game was not just a game.  There was a banner, there were dragon dancers for our pep rally, there were cheer leaders for both sides, and there were supporters.  Lots of folks flew down from Hanoi and lots of folks from the Consulate came out to support the teams.  It was a fun festive atmosphere with the Tiger supporters wearing fun, light orange t-shirts with just enough black straps in the shape of a cat’s face to know it’s a tiger.  Very cool.  Too bad I don’t have a photo.

Aside from being drenched at the game – I only got a little wet at the game – I proceeded to walk all over the downtown area of District 1 for the next two days.  I probably sweat out three hundred pounds of water.  I know my shirts at times were as wet from walking around as my jersey would have been had I played in the rain.  No, it wasn’t all that hot, just humid as all get out.

Impressions of the City

Saigon, as compared to Hanoi, is orderly, clean, cosmopolitan, and relatively easy to navigate.  I make this bold pronouncement based on the tiny area I walked around this weekend.  To be more precise, being in District 1 was a pleasure.  People followed the traffic rules.  The flow of traffic appeared to have rules that needed following.  There were intersections with lights to regulate flow.  And for the most part, traffic did flow.

Overall, it just felt like a cleaner place.  The buildings were taller.  They looked newer.  Someone compared Saigon to LA – a big sprawling city.  Perhaps it is.  But, District 1 is still much more organized and pleasant to walk around than any part of Hanoi I’ve seen so far.  I’d say Saigon is a little more like New York and Hanoi is a whole lot like DC.

Food

Elbow Room Interior

Elbow Room Interior

Loved it.  I ate at a few amazing restaurants. La Brasserie,  The Brick, The Refinery, and Elbow Room.  So far, I haven’t eaten at restaurants with offerings like these in Hanoi.

Let’s start with La Brasserie.  I don’t have a good address for the place, but I know I wound up eating there in District 1, not 7 (go to the website to see what I’m talking about).  The point is, two of us went out looking for some pho. Someone pointed us down the road.  We walked and didn’t see a whole lot that fit the bill until we turned down one street.  We saw a sign for pizza and thought that would do – not pho, but close alphabetically at least.

Lovely ladies from the establishment next door tried to lure us in, but that was not the sort of thing either of us were interested in.  The first clue we should have had when we stepped inside was cigar smoke.  Yes.  Cigars mean you’re in a classy place, so prices are not going to be pho prices.  I about choked at the idea of a really expensive meal, considering I had $10 in my pocket and I was a little worried about how much I might spend the rest of the weekend on a trip to Can Tho.  We sat down anyway.  Good choice.  My calzone was absolutely delicious and huge.

The crust was perfect, the tomato sauce on top was perfectly done, and the oregano flakes just added that final dose of realness to the whole thing.  Not Fat Boy’s pizza.   The other guy loved his spaghetti, too.  Well worth the money and a propitious omen for other meals to be eaten this weekend.

The Calzone

The Calzone

Cuc Gach Quan (The Brick Cafe)

Cuc Gach Quan (The Brick Cafe)

The next good meal was at The Brick.  I could read the website and paraphrase it for you, but this was Vietnamese food at a delicious level.  We had vegetarians in the group, so we had tofu bricks, morning glories, mushrooms, brown rice (yes, brown rice in Vietnam), as well as chicken, beef, and pork for the meat-needers.  It was all good.  What else can I say?  The ambiance simply added to the ease with which the mojitos and conversation could flow.  From the Mad Men fan (shown in this photo) to the cool arrangement of dishes and the dangerous (in wet weather) staircase up to the second floor, it was a night of food to remember.

Death by Chocolate, Elbow Room

Death by Chocolate, Elbow Room

I only ate a chocolate mousse at the Refinery, but the set-lunch menu looked great.  Elbow Room had a great looking menu of American cuisine – burgers, wraps, pancakes, and dessert.  I got the death by chocolate (on the right).  It was a gooey-center of molten chocolate encased in a crusty cake shell.  After a Santa Fe chicken wrap, this was the perfect way to end my Saigon culinary experience.  Other folks had salads, burgers, and the pancakes.  All left full.

Killing Time

I taught one of our local staff the phrase killing time.  I did a lot of that in the city.  Between meals, I figured it was a waste to sit in the guesthouse room.  And it would have been.  I did what I did when I spent 18 months on the road.  I walked around, took in the sights, got my bearings, avoided the people trying to sell me crap or talk to me – “Where you get that hat?” (yes, I had my Pearlis adventure hat on) – and just let my mind wander in a way you can’t let your mind wander in Hanoi.  If you mind wanders you wind up under a bus, car, or motorbike.

I didn’t have any where to be and no place I really wanted to go.  I don’t need to buy stuff.  I don’t need to see another big market with lots of crap mass-produced in China – though I did walk through Ben Thanh to kill time and check the box.  And I don’t really care about the local historical sites – yeah, a cathedral in Saigon.  So, I got to wondering, how the hell I spent 18 months on the road, doing this day-in, day-out.  I moved from hostel to hostel, carried a crap ton of stuff, and just kept going.  Youth?  I don’t know.  All I know is that after just a few hours of aimless wandering and a little too much coffee, I was ready to be back somewhere to relax and read while not sweating profusely and not having to listen to crap music.

Perhaps I’m old and soft, but I don’t think so.  OK, well, I’ve definitely gone soft – sitting does that to a person – but I think I’m just less inclined to be places I’m not thoroughly thrilled to be.  My time is important to me and so I want to spend it doing what I want to do.  Trying to kill time, anywhere, isn’t really something I want to do.

So, there you have it.  A long ass piece about a few days in Saigon where is rained a lot, I ate a lot, and I walked a lot.  I’ll be happy to go back whenever I get the chance.

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