Leaving the US and Arrival in Vietnam

03/27/09

So I started my day going to meet Meghan for lunch at a Mexican restaurant in her neighborhood. After the meal I went to the bathroom to wash up and have a quick pee. As I flushed the toilet and brought my hand up from the handle, I knocked my glasses off my face and into the bowl they went. As they swirled around I plunged my hand into the water just in time to see them whoosh out of reach. I stood there with my hand dripping blue water and just burst out laughing. Maybe you had to be there to see the humor, but it seemed funny to me. Fortunately, we were the first customers and the restrooms had just been cleaned, so the sense of having plunged my hand into filth was small. At any rate, I washed and washed my arm and went back to the table. I told Meghan the story and let her know it was OK to laugh. She giggled a little. We then left to got to the MOCA. (Museum Of Contemporary Art) As it turned out, the museum itself was closed. However, while in the building, Meghan left her iPhone somewhere and it was not found by an honest citizen. Between us we lost about $800 that day.

Later that evening, it suddenly dawned on me that losing my glasses was really a big deal, I'd need to see in Vietnam. I now had one day to sort this out. Fortunately, there was an Optometrist very close to the house who accepted my insurance. Unfortunately, the insurance only pays when you go through their lab which takes 2 weeks. 1 day service means using the in-house lab, and paying full price. No choice here. Interestingly, the optometrist's office was staffed by several Vietnamese women who offered to teach me a few words in Vietnamese. Sin jao! While waiting for the glasses I went shopping for those strings to keep them from falling off. I knew I did not want to dive my hand into a Vietnamese outhouse.

03/28/09

I got on the plane (747) at LAX about 1am Friday. China Airlines, great service but the most uncomfortable seat I've ever been in. Ok, I'm carrying around a little extra weight, but my pelvis is a fixed size. That damn bone rubbed both sides of the seat. Part of the problem may have been that the seat arms held all the controls for the great amenities--video, radio, flight info, games etc. Still I would have given it all up for another ½” of space. I realized also, that as gijin were concerned, I was smaller than most on the plane. There were some really large people one board, one guy had to be a 7'. I can only imagine the suffering of he and the others experienced.

The flight was quite pleasant otherwise. I shared my row with an Indonesian Don Juan living in the states, and a California kid of Chinese extraction. We were served by over 15 beautiful flight attendants who looked like they moonlighted as a gymnastics team. Unison in every way, with their chorus of “Sorry excuse us, sorry excuse us” as they pushed the carts down the isle. My Chinese row-mate came in handy at meal time as he translated the menu for me. “scrambled eggs or Chinese rice porridge.” I liked my breakfast rice porridge with shrimp.

3/28/09 Taipei

The flight arrived in Taipei just in time to give me ½ hour rest before boarding for HCMC. At this point I WAS in Asia and everything was new to me, and really fast paced. My departure gate was listed as A6 and I was running to get there. As I arrived in the concourse an Asian businessman was screaming about “gate A6” to the airline help agent. I figured I'd listen in since A6 was my gate. I then realized we were actually standing UNDER the A6 sign while he was screaming that the sign was not good enough. Just to be sure I asked the agent, “this is A6?” As she pointed, I said, “I'll just follow the horrible angry man”. Another passenger said to me in English, “Hey, I wouldn't want to be on a flight with that guy”. He had a point. So I was in Asia 15 minutes and had learned that assholes are universal to all creeds.

The flight to HCMC (Saigon) was more comfortable as the seats were slightly bigger and the armrests hinged up. My row-mate was a Vietnamese who lived in the US. We did not speak till near the end of the flight. This was good as he really needed a breath mint--or some dental work. Still, he gave me advice on how to deal with the buying of a cell phone SIM, and told me where the intellectuals all go to meet in HCMC. I can't figure why he told me that, and I'm disappointed that I lost the piece of paper with the address that he gave me.

From the plane the Vietnam airport surroundings looks like any other tropical third world country. Farms, shacks, junk piles. This one however, had the remnants of the the US base and housed a lot of battered government helicopters. The arrivals building was quite the contrast. Built by Japanese contractors, it was the size of the Trinidad airport but much better built and tastefully designed. I understand it had its' share of corruption just like the one in T'n T, or Miami for that matter. Anyway, for being 2 years overdue they got a fine facility.

It seemed like forever before my bags came, but once they arrived, immigration and Customs was easy. My next step was to change some US to Vietnamese Dong and get a Taxi. I found the currency exchange/phone store/taxi dispatcher/ staffed by three young girls in traditional Vietnamese garb. They were very helpful. “You need phone SIM?” “How much?” Says I. “$8.” Well there was no beating that. After the exchange and SIM purchase I went outside to look for the taxis that were recommended to me. A "non standard" taxi driver offered his services for 650,000 Dong. I knew this was high (thanks to to Rick Steves) so I asked how much in US. He said $35. I knew the correct rate was $20, but I said I'll pay $25 right now. We went through the standard barter, but with me sticking to $25 and him working his was down to it in increments. When we reached 25/25 I got in the Taxi and my adventure really began. It is at this point I really got to see HCMC.

The Guest house.

Trying to find the “Guest House” where I am staying was again an experience. It is on Co Bac St. which is in the “Backpacker's area”. However, addresses in Vietnam are not simple matters as some numbers can repeat on the same street and many numbers are not exactly a property—as in my current address 171/1E Co Back St. One would expect to find a building at 171 but in fact it is an alley. The buildings are then on either side with the /# and letter designation. There are even more alleys within the system. It is good to have a driver who knows his way.

My guest house is four story building with a foot print 12' wide and about 40' long. The first floor is the living room/motorcycle parking and kitchen. The second floor is the owners living quarters and 2 rental rooms (mine included). I did not go any higher but I did see another Westerner coming down the steps. We gave each other the tepid nod that is sometimes given. What is says is, I recognize you as fat fish out of water like myself, but giving you this recognition with real interest would would mean that I see race. And that would be uncool.

My room is adequate. It is air conditioned, and has the standard shower/sink/toilet bathroom combination. I have TV with a lot of American cable, a somewhat desk, queen bed, (hard just the way I like it) and a rickety shelf that just might support my keys. I was wondering why the shower door was PVC. Then I realized it's because then there is nothing to rot or rust when showering. All toilet paper holders have a shield to prevent the shower wetting the paper. Mine is broken but it is not a problem as my “bathroom” is quite big and I can avoid that problem by showering in the opposite direction. The only thing I do not have here is Internet access. Other students do have it at similar prices and I might consider moving for that reason. Did I mention that the toilet paper here is not made for the Western ass? The sections are somewhat smaller and require a little more finesse.

The Neighborhood.

On Saturday I decide to take a walk to gauge the surroundings. It is here that the panic really set in. I remembered Lynette saying, “Asia is really foreign.” No shit! I started to wonder WTF have I gotten myself into? The streets are covered with tiny food stalls that most Vietnamese eat from. Some are setup on the sidewalks in front of bona fide restaurants! I decided to experience the life I'd need to jump right in. I stopped at a stall and pointed at something. “25,000” ($1.10)she said. I nodded and she made me the sandwich-y thing. Mmmm! Ok. I can do this. I have to say at this point, Germa-phobes should stay away from Vietnam. My early years in Trinidad gave me a little preparation for this, but even so, it has taken a lot of self-coaxing. The good advice is, “eat from the vendor where there's a crowds.”

After the light meal I went back to my room and to bed. The Thursday to Saturday travel day was beginning to taking its' toll.

I set myself up for an early rise Sunday morning. The plan was to find the school, and walk around to get my bearings. A good plan, but the sounds of Vietnam had not been considered. From my bed I heard a lot of night sounds that could be attributed to neither man nor beast. Fortunately, the strange symphony was always accompanied by 4-stroke scooter motors. I have come to call it the Honda Lullaby.

3/29/09

I walked all the way to the school building so I would know where it was. I completely missed it and reached all the way to the French inspired boulevards in a fancy part of town. Remember fancy is all relative. I stopped to ask directions to the school but had trouble--the English/Vietnamese thing. Eventually I pulled the address up on my phone to show the guys. Yep 1 block a way!

Now that I knew where I was to go the next day, and the the school building existed I was a little more relaxed. Still, the entrance was shuttered up and I still had the nagging fear that I may have been scammed and the school/program did not exist. I later learned that other students had the same fears.

Following this I did one of the first no-no's in traveling. Don't go walking and exploring in anew pair of shoes! Yep, those fancy waterproof sandals/shoes I got at REI in California ate my heel off. “My kingdom for a band-aid! Ok, take my watch!” Fortunately, I did not have to give up either. (thanks Danielle for the travel medical kit)

Overall, the walk was like a video overdose. So much to see and most of it moving. At this point I made it to the waterfront which was a lot slower. This gave me a breather and I got to see the statue of Tran Hung Dao. He was a famous 13^th century Vietnamese leader who defeated Kublia Kahn. Dao tricked the attacking war ships by enticing them onto bamboo stakes driven into the bottom just below the waterline. How come we never heard of this victory in our history classes? At this point, I began to make my way home with slight hop-and-drop due to the blisters.

Ben Thanh Market –Night.

On Sunday night I called Marc Spindler. He is the son of a friend of a friend of Katie's who lives here in HCMC. I had emailed him before I left and he was quite helpful. He offered to meet and pick me up for dinner. Just what I needed to help reduce my simmering panic. He arrived on his scooter. Ah, I would not have to walk. I got on the back, and he took me to the “best place in town.” Actually, the place does not exist in the day time. It is outside the Ben Thanh market in the street. At night they close off one side of the street and set up tents and a whole restaurant. It is something to see and experience.

When you arrive, you check in your scooter, and parking attendant gives you a parking receipt and writes a number in chalk on the scooter seat. If you're lucky (and we were) you'll get seated right away. In this temporary restaurant experienced waiters handle your order and pretty soon you are eating all manner of delicious unknown foods. We had numerous spring roll looking things, leaf wraps, and a main dish of a whole fried fish. The fish is served standing up between two skewers so you can access the morsels from both sides. Amazingly he was not greasy, but had some unrecognizable bits attached to him that were somewhat disconcerting. I had the Sapodilla smoothie to drink. All I can say again is Mmmmm! It was a pleasant introduction to the night life here, and I can say, the down town is a whole other city at night and really hums.

Transportation

Traveling here is amazing. It seems the traffic laws are merely weak suggestions. There is no real right way. If you feel like it you can head the wrong way into traffic. Those Hollywood movies that use this concept as action scenes all the time have no idea how people can really negotiate space and time. It really is like one of those nature shows that show schools of fish zigging and zagging in unison. (However, in a nod to safety, helmets are required by ALL riders in Vietnam.) Every surface here is considered pavement! Sidewalks, medians etc. Need to cross the road? Just step out into traffic and start walking, scooters and cars just avoid you as they wizz by. Initially I just stuck close to someone else to learn the crossing technique. Now I just do like the locals, walk into the raging traffic. You can tell the new tourists by their terrified faces as they stand on the sidewalk for 20 minutes waiting to cross.

In reality, nothing I write, nor even the pictures I take can really express the transport culture here. Thousands of men and women scooting on by: Grandmothers, office workers, everyone! The scooter parking lots, scooter washes, and dealerships. Every establishment is “...and scooters” I saw the nail salon /scooter repair, travel agency/scooter repair, and lots of restaurant/scooter repairs, etc, etc. It is unf*****g believable. One evening I happened to pass a school where students were getting out after exams. There were HUNDREDS of moms on scooters picking up the kids. Some had their babies in basket seats between their legs. There were moms in their office attire and heels, all picking up SEVERAL kids on their scooter. You can only understand it by seeing it. (Look for the picture book "Bikes of Burden) The fashion of scooter life is also something to see. Many women and a few men wear masks to protect themselves from, dust etc. Those masks have become a form of expression now. Hello Kitty, Coty, HD, etc. Same for the helmets. When the women are wearing skirts and are passengers on the scooters they ride side saddle. You have to see a mother riding side saddle with an infant in her arms, while granny negotiates the scooter one handed, the other is holding the cell phone, and all this amidst the chaotic traffic. (Yes granny can text baby!) It's all pretty amazing considering all those single occupant SUVs driving around in FL.

I'm still trying to figure out this blogger program. So until then I'll put all the pics up on Facebook.

If I ever get the time the next blog will be on the first week of school.