Caught Red-Handed

Do you know what this is, ladies and gentlemen? This is a mosquito. Not just any mosquito, this Fucker was caught actively stealing my blood. Retribution was swift, and my own blood exploded onto my hand and chest. I licked it all up and reclaimed what is rightfully mine. Her corpse is smeared across my door as a warning to all other mosquitoes who think they can play me like some two bit hooker.

This is the first time I've caught one of these god damn mosquitoes here in the act. Do you understand how big this is? This is the scene from any monster/horror/alien film where they all realize that the enemy can be killed. This is the turning point.

Here is a reenactment of what I was yelling as I ran around my apartment building:

There is no more reason to be afraid. It's going to be a good week.

Phood and the Vung Tau World Food Festival

In my younger formative years, I could often be found daydreaming under a tall oak tree about a place where a bowl of Pho cost around a dollar, the bills in my wallet had plenty of zeroes on them, and Gingers were something parents made up to scare little children. I thought I had reached paradise until I saw the entire redheaded O'Donnell clan walking down the street all wearing "I Heart Vietnam" t-shirts. If you don't know what Pho is, do a quick, life-changing google search. Before you do that however, please jump out of a window head first.

The Pho has been coming in waves, but that is not all Vietnam has to offer. Every street has a few street stalls that offer a delicious array of Vietnamese style bagguette sandwiches, various rice dishes, other kinds of soups, and a whole host of other questionable-unidentifiable things that would make either the Food and Drug Administration or the Endangered Species Coalition cringe. Speaking of the FDA and other sanitation urban legends, I am beginning to think everything we are taught in the US about food safety is bullshit.

Anyone who has ever been forced to acquire a Food Handler's License knows about the so called "Dangerzone", or range of temperatures that are considered dangerous for foods to be stored/served at. Judging by what I've seen (food almost exclusively in the Dangerzone and relatively healthy people walking around) I'm ready to submit the entire concept of germ theory to Mythbusters. If your friends don't call you Maverick or Goose on a regular basis, chances are you haven't and won't ever go to the Dangerzone.

When I am feeling the need to sit down on a normal size chair and enjoy the comforts of AC, there are plenty of indoor restaurants as well. However these can easily be anywhere from 50%-300% more expensive, and the food isn't usually better.

Fruit wise, Southeast Asia offers some things that would make fruit from Pandora seem boring. The Greatest of All Time of course is the Mang Kut, or Mangosteen. This you should actually google without jumping out of a window. In the U.S., if you are fortunate enough to find it, a pound of Mangosteen costs around 6-10 dollars. Here, I can get a Kilogram for a dollar.

New definition to the term "open kitchen"

Bun Bo Hue from that lady's stand, the delicious, spicy cousin of Pho

At night, the grilled meats come out. This cost about 75 cents during the day, a dollar at night.

Mangosteen from the outside.

Heaven on the inside.

This last weekend I also had the chance to go to the beach city of Vung Tau, which was hosting it's World Food Festival. The trip itself was fun but I was a little disappointed with the actual festival. The size and scope of it was a little overhyped, and I also wasn't able to stay for the whole day (I heard that it gets a lot better during the night, as it goes on towards 2am). I went with five of my colleagues and about 30ish of our students, and the organizational/logistical nightmare of getting everyone on and off a bus is a story for another time.

Some highlights include:

- Getting some free food and a flag type thing from the Palestinian booth after talking to them in a little bit of Arabic.

- Trying Iguana and Horse for the first time. Iguana delicious, Horse not so much.

- Finally being able to enjoy a beach, even though it was deceptively dirty.

- Finding the North Korean booth void of any people or food. Such hilarious and sad symbolism.

Bunch of assholes

An entire parade halted to join us because they saw us taking a picture. I've never been in a country with bigger camera whores, seriously.

All the delicious food that I've been eating does have some drawbacks though. To put it gently, lets just say my digestive system is working as fast and chaotically as the city I am living in. To put it realistically, I will have to borrow a term we used when I was in Tunisia; I am assblasting like I've got no tomorrow. The sheer amount of TP I am going through makes any environmentally friendly activity I do irrelevant.

However, things are indeed looking up. Today, for the first time since I can remember, I dropped a bonafide, All-American, solid fecal matter. Honestly I wasn't even sure what it was when I first saw it, because it had been so long. It was like staring into the eyes of a mythical beast. I mean I've seen grainy video footage of it walking through the woods, but I cant recall in recent memory seeing it up close and so intensely personal. Five whole minutes between me and this mud colored unicorn must have passed before I fully comprehended the situation.

aaaand with that imagery, have a good day.

P.S. I will never complain about Oregon rain again. Shit is getting a wee bit redonkulous.

P.P.S. Do you see what I did there with the title and what not? Its like food and pho at the same time. Do you UNDERSTAND? ARE YOU ABLE TO FULLY COMPREHEND MY GENIUS!?

Mekong

Last weekend I took a trip down the Mekong River. The Mekong splits into a million smaller rivers and canals, and serves as the lifeline of southern Vietnam and continues on through the rest of Southeast Asia. The entire trip involved about an hour on a motorbike, 2 hours on a bus, 7 hours in a van, and 5 hours on a fishing boat.

I left Saigon from the public bus station to head towards My Tho, the gateway to the rest of the Mekong. I think my new favorite hobby is experiencing city-to-city buses in foreign countries. In Tunisia, any surface plastic surface became a drum and everyone got up in the aisles to dance in sing. The bus I took here had people running up inside of the bus trying to sell food and drinks. When I say this, I mean they ran through the door while the bus was in motion, and jumped off. If the bus ever slowed down for traffic, like clockwork another vendor would swoop in. The first time I saw this I thought for sure we were being hijacked and that I was going to wake up in Cambodia.

Anyway I arrived at My Tho without further incident, and headed towards the docks. The state-run tourist agency has complete control on the boat operations here, charging roughly $25 to head down the river. However I heard if you go to the docks, you can hire the expertise of a local fisherman/woman to take you for much cheaper. Sure enough I found at the docks what had to be the crew of the Black Pearl, and for half a second I had the crazy idea of using the standard method of transport to avoid having a sack thrown over my body and being trafficked to Pnom Penh. However near the end of the docks I found a little old lady with a creaking body, who I could easily throw overboard if she ever tried anything silly. We negotiated a handsome price and we were off.

For about three hours down river, this is what I saw. Straight up John Kerry Swivel Boat action. Even got a Purple Heart out of it. I kept wondering to myself if anyone lived here, until three small boys jumped out of the woodworks and started swimming in the intense rain. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a Platoon/Apocalypse Now flashback. There were a couple of small islands in the middle of the river (Dragon Island, Phoenix Island, Unicorn Island) that I was told I had to check out, which were cool. They each specialized in different production, such as honey tea, banana wine (which fought back more like whiskey), coconut milk, etc. We pulled over on the side of another canal to eat lunch in some hidden but well-known restaurant, which served fresh seafood. Was delicious, but probably way overpriced due to its location and reputation.

Mowgli and Crew

Making some sort of Coconut concoction

Banana wine and Honey Tea

After I got off the boat, I found a motorbike taxi to take me to a bus station that would then take me to Can Tho, a larger city further down the river and the staging point to see the fabled Cai Rang floating market. This "Bus Station" turned out to be his buddy's living room, where I was to wait for his buddy to arrive on his way towards Can Tho. At this point my line of reasoning was somewhere between "hmm maybe this will make for a cool story, at least its more fun than a bus" and "my kidneys are about to be harvested within the next 48 hours." Well sure enough the sketch-van pulled up, and jam packed inside were 17 other souls. Our collective faces probably mirrored each other, as theirs all seemed to say, "what the hell another one?!" while mine was just "what the hell?!"

The driver was also running some sort of side business, as he pulled off course every hour or so to deliver/pick up some goods. I'm not entirely sure what was in each burlap sack, and it was probably something really innocent, but this man was moving serious product. I imagined this Vietnamese Pablo Escobar was doing something much more sinister to entertain myself for the four hours I spent in the van.

When I got to Can Tho it was already dark so my first order of business was to find a cheap place to stay. I told the driver to drop me off near some cheap hostels/hotels, but upon hearing this he insisted that I go to his cousin's establishment because everyone else apparently wants to rip me off. This place turns out to be really nice for really cheap actually, so I decide to stay there. I sleep with one eye open in case any of those clowns had some ulterior, Cambodia-bound motives, but wake up around 5am to catch the mythical floating markets.

Once again the strategy was to avoid the large tourist boats and red tape by employing the skills of a local entrepreneur. There is a big statue of Ho Chi Minh that is known on the "streets" as the location to hire these smaller fishing boat pilots. Based off my previous success of going with a sweet, arthritis hampered old lady in My Tho, I sought out a similar character. It didn't take long to find her, and after some quick negotiating we were off. The Cai Rang floating market is the largest floating market on the Mekong, where all the local farmers converge to trade their goods, which eventually make their way towards Ho Chi Minh City. They call it a floating market because the majority of the transactions happen from boat-to-boat, with a few boats stopping by land-based stalls as well. I have not seen anything even remotely like it before, and it was definitely worth the trip.

Later in the day larger vessels containing 20-30 tourists would arrive, but the boats would be too big to navigate the actual market itself, and conceded to just circumventing and observing it. However my small fishing boat was able to go through the narrow passages, and my guide happened to be friends with a few of the other boats so it was pretty awesome. There were small restaurant boats that floated around for hungry seafarers, and my guide took me to a friend of hers who had her own floating Hu Tieu operation in the middle of the river. I''m not sure about the safety of of having a giant fire and boiling pot of soup on a small boat, but it was delicious. There were also 7-11 type boats that hijacked onto the larger tourist boats, trying to sell them all kinds of drinks and snacks. Its a very pirate-esque scene, and always amused me.

PIRATES!!!

The road back was infinitely more sketch but that is another story for another time. Next week I will be traveling to Vung Tau beach with my co-workers and some of my students for the World Food Festival and some beach fun in general. I know I'm slacking in updating this, so I'll try to keep on top of things. Until next time...


P.S. Right now in Saigon, the most ridiculous thunderstorm is going on. The sky is a strobe light, no exaggerations. It's pretty damn awesome, but I just realized my laundry just got wet again for the third time since I've been waiting for it to dry. Some you win, dimsum you lose.

P.P.S. You cant really see it in the video, but it was raining an illogical amount. The picture with the three boys swimming gives a better indication what most of my first day was like.

P.P.P.S. RICHARD CHO!

World Cup, Apartment Stability, and Other Randomness

World Cup in Vietnam:

Before I begin my story on watching the Spain/Netherlands game in Vietnam, I have to start with meeting this man:

Meet Antony, quite possibly the most ridiculous Frenchman I've ever met. We first encountered each other in a small restaurant off of Bui Vien, where a wandering book salesmen was trying to hawk off a bootleg copy of Lonely Planet's 2008 Cambodia to Antony, and he was trying to lower the price. Both were using somewhat broken English. Imagine, if you will, an increasingly heated negotiation between my father and Nicolas Batum, and you will have gotten the picture. That alone was enough for me to chuckle to myself a table over, but I am glad the theatrics did not stop there.

These book salesmen, which are quite common along Bui Vien and Pham Ngu Lao street, carry about 25-30 books in a stack bound together by two threads. When the Vietnamese salesmen put down his stack to go fetch another book from across the street, I saw a devious look come across Antony's face. He started to reach for the entire stack of books, trying to hoist them onto his shoulders and walk around in authentic fashion. I knew deep down I should have probably stopped him, but I probably just stared lustily hoping he was going to go through with it. He did not even lift the books to full standing height before the two threads snapped, and the entire cargo when flying throughout the restaurant. Lonely Planet's knocked over drinks, landed in soups, and generally caused a chaotic scene. I couldn't help laughing my ass off.

It may have been one of those things where you had to be there, but I haven't seen anything nearly as funny in a long time. Somehow this stunt triggered a bar hopping expedition until the World Cup started. Definitely a cool guy. The rest of Euronation was out in full force that night, as well, and literally did not stop drinking (some joyously, some depressingly, but all dangerously) until about noon the next day. I saw two Spaniards with flags draped across their shoulders like capes walk across a large group of Dutchman, but both parties were too belligerent and spoke too bad of English to properly talk trash. What resulted was about eight or so Euros repeatedly yelling "OY!" and "WOTS ALL THIS THEN!?" as they stumbled passed each other. The game ended around 4:30am local time, and my hostel was locked, so that was a little weird. I was way more exhausted then drunk, and walking around felt like being a neutral observer in some Bizzaro Westside Story, with the Dutch Jets and the Spanish Sharks roaming around Ho Chi Minh City trying to shank one another. I was bored so I decided to take a video:

Also, because I won the bet with my students (who all thought Germany and the Netherlands was going to beat Spain), my main man Duc had to preform a belly dance in front of 4 classes. He cut it short of the normal time, but made up for it with an impromptu performance of Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours":



Classic.


Apartment:





I finally moved into a permanent apartment earlier today. The combined jubilation of East/West Berliners during the fall of the Berlin Wall could not match my emotions. I started humming the Jefferson's theme song on my taxi over here, but I really only knew the "Movin' on up..." line. I live on the fourth floor with a pretty cool balcony area, and it's next to where I work and some other cool things, so I am pretty excited.

The only hitch is that I live in the same building as someone who has a certain family member that harbors a certain hatred for a certain fellow from Portland, OR who keeps a certain blog while working here. Basically this certain person cannot see me, EVER, or its back to Bui Vien round 3. Is it wrong of me that I slightly chuckled to myself while I am typing this blog entry (a sort of e-diary, if I may), while hiding away at the highest point in this building, because I just compared my situation to that of Anne Frank's? Obviously they don't compare, and a more wholesome person would have refrained from even thinking that entirely, but... yea.


IVCE:

Today I also met Mr. Tran, the boss of myself and the other 5 teachers, for the first time. Its significant because up until this point, the only contact any of us had with him over the last four or so months were sporadic and cryptic e-mails./phone calls. There had been plenty of confusion over the logistics of the program, but up until now we had just shrugged it off as this being Vietnam. My image of him was some sort of crossbreed between Charlie from Charlie's Angels and the main antagonist from Inspector Gadget. We all thought when we finally met him we'd only see the back of his chair as he stroked a white cat, or it would just be a laptop with a live feed of only the silhouette of his face. Disappointingly, he actually turned out to be a chill, laid back guy instead of some over-the-top sinister super villain.


Street Vendors:

If any of the kids who sell merchandise on the streets here ever got accepted into The Apprentice, I am fairly confident they would win. I can think of a handful of adults who do not even compare to these kids in terms of slyness and work ethnic. The 9 days I spent living on Bui Vien gave me the chance to get to know a few of them, because they repeatedly sought me out day after day when I made the mistake of buying something from them the first encounter. One of them looks like my little cousin Alex, so I usually bought some 5,000 or 10,000 VND trinket (which is only about 50cents). When she first used the line "buy something so I can go back home to sleep" I jokingly called her out on it because it was still the afternoon, but a couple days later she used the same line but it was on the other side of midnight.

Of course you always have to ask yourself who is benefiting from the money, and supporting these little girls if their money doesn't stay in their pockets just increases the use of children. However I also heard that with these girls (who wear a certain uniform, and all sell identical things) their profits go towards their school supplies or something. Even if they don't, knowing the consequences of supporting them on paper is much different than encountering that situation in real life. When something costs only fifty cents, and all the other Vietnamese people in the room (including myself) are going, "look at this stingy Vietnamese-American bastard that can't even give up a quarter or two," and it's a little girl who is working passed midnight, it is a lot harder to think about the possible long term effects.

Another older girl who deals roses and flowers, and who is probably the world's worst saleswoman, either spends her time talking mad shit to Europeans in Vietnamese when she is around me or loses her inventory on Rock-Paper-Scissors bets with tourists. Despite everything though, they always maintain a smile. It also definitely makes me feel guilty for not fully taking advantage of all the opportunities I've had in life, which is something that I'm thinking about more and more lately. Anywhere, here is a short video of the future Vietnamese Donald Trump, who resembles my little cousin, trying to hawk me some useless gear. Oh, and ignore my terrible Vietnamese please.

This weekend I am going on an excursion down the Mekong Delta to see what that has to offer. Definitely excited to finally get out of the city and see some of Vietnam's natural beauty. More videos and pictures to come.

P.S. Miami already has international bandwagon fans:


Awesome homemade Wade jersey, I think.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

The sequel will be loosely based on my life this weekend

The events of this last weekend can only be described as Han Le's Series of Unfortunate Events. Do you remember my last post when I said I was finally moving into a permanent apartment? I haven't lied that hard since I wrote my History Thesis paper last Spring (I'm joking but, they cant take back my degrees can they?). Well actually I did move in, but the joyous occassion only lasted a few hours. Instead I find myself in my fourth hostel in as many days with no end in the foreseeable future.

Ah, the life I could have led. Really cool apartment, rooftop access with a cool little garden bit. Cool neighborhood in the heart of downtown, with plenty of shops and places to eat within walking distance. A daily market in the alleyway right at the bottom of the building that ends around noonish, that converts to the neighborhood soccer field. I was so excited to have a fridge that I went out and immediately stocked it with Mangosteen and the local 333 brew (at about 40 cents a can!). AC, wifi, free laundry and cleaning, life would have been too easy.

The first obstacle was the money. A little mix up in the language barrier made us think the security deposit wasn't as much as it actually was, so we were short a few hundred. We don't get payed until Monday, so we had to scramble to find the appropriate cash. The Quest to Find the Workable ATM resulted in overcharging my account and still not having enough. The last hundred dollars or so we made up in loose change in US dollars, Vietnamese Dong, some Euros, Japanese Yen, a couple coupons, my old Beaverton card that all the teams sold as a fundraiser, and some vouchers for free Lamaze classes I would teach for the landlord and his pregnant wife.

For a short while, I felt like Charles Barkley in Vegas. The authentic mountain of Cocaine and comatose stripper may or may not have been present off camera.

Phuong, my boss and ex-roommate for an hour, sporting a very temporary smile.

Through the good graces of the landlord, he accepted our disorganized transaction and even fronted us a hundred USD until Monday so we could feed ourselves. However that was only the first of many obstacles. After all the wheelin 'n' dealin, the true authoritative figure emerged. The landlord was Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, if you will. In theory, he was in charge. It was his name on the business card. However, the Supreme Ayatollah in this narrative is his mother. This grandmother Khamenei, after we had payed, instituted a wide range of ridiculous and authoritarian policies. The policies ranged from what a common Catholic school nun would endorse, to rules that would even make Hitler say, "Hey whoa wait a minute... that's kind of a dick move bro." The next twenty minutes or so was a broken Vietnamese vs. broken English war of attrition where we finally negotiated some fair measures.

The death blow was when Phuong's family here found out that I was a guy. I should have known better from the start, but I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. However, they thought otherwise and pulled the plug on the whole operation. Granted, I do consider myself the sketchiest person in a 25 mile radius, so I can sympathize where they are coming from. Finding my own place with similar rates hopefully will not be a big deal, but my main concern at the time was confronting Pinky and The Brain (aka the lovable, friendly landlord and his hellbent on world domination mother) for another go. The grandmother probably acted like I just shat in her bowl of Pho when we told them we needed to move out, but the landlord let us go for a 50 dollar deduction for the three days they spent preparing the room or something. At that point I was just glad I was going to get anything back after the paperwork I signed, so I took as many beers as I could and bolted. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, I must be in Vietnam.

Fast forward passed another hotel, I find myself in a $7 a night guesthouse. Hopefully this will be temporary, but its not too bad. It has no AC or wifi, and has a decently large window (read: hole) to the outside that cant be closed, but I imagine living here a few days will be a good opportunity for some old fashioned Nelson Mandela-esque character building. The shower wasn't working when I got here, which tickled my balls to dangerous levels of pink. After moving around so much and carrying all of my shit through the heat and up four flights of stairs, naturally the first thing I wanted was to take a shower. As I was standing in the bathroom ass naked, drenched in my own sweat and exhausted, I started to uncontrollably laugh when I realized no water was coming out. I mean, straight up Heath Ledger style Joker laughing, as the camera zooms out. I think I even screamed out "WHY SO SERIOUS!?" to either the people walking on the street below or my reflection in the mirror. I'm not positive because I momentarily blacked out.

At $7 bucks a night, cant complain.

Someone broke all the knobs off and generally ransacked the shower. Is this what we, as a human race, have been reduced to?

Like Manna for the ancient Israelites through the desert, "Ba Ba Ba" gets me through the day.

All of this was right before I started writing this entry. With some tweaking and what not the shower managed to pump out a trickle of water, but that was more than enough. Now, I am in my boxers sweating out all of my essential fluids, drinking the lucky few beers that survived this whole ordeal, next to a stack of essays I need to grade, and contemplating my next move. All in all though, I am still having a great time, spirits are high, and I will always be grateful for this awesome opportunity that I have. Hopefully next time I will have some more interesting, less vain topics to talk about.

P.S. A Bird shat on me. It's like he knew.

P.P.S. If you are wondering how I posted this without wifi, it is because all of those hostels are next to each other on the same street, and I kept the passwords. So HA! Vietnam - 53 | Han - 1.

Do you know why they call us Orientals?

Because we get oriented to new situations very fast. Or maybe it was because we always maintain our directional orientation and never get lost. I remember hearing Bill Nye the Science Guy say something along those lines. Either way, what I mean to say is, it feels like I've been here a long time even though its only been a week. The first couple days I was like Miley Cyrus touching down at LAX; everyone was wearing stilettos and I did not get the memo. A few days later and on came the Jay Z song.

When I first got on a xe om I put one hand on the guy's shoulder for stability, like I was a junior member of the Portland All-Boys Youth Choir. He didn't say anything, but if eyes could be homophobic, I am pretty sure his had just called me a 'gayass'. So instead I turned to my alternative, which was to have a double-handed death grip on the rear handle. Now, I am high-fiving grandmas with my left hand and making animal balloons with my right, while in the Proud Warrior yoga pose.

Actually nothing I just said makes any sense, here are some pictures:

Blue Mountains = Cold Beer.


Perceptive individuals may notice that there is a Pho Restaurant in Beaverton with the exact same name and logo. There are four scenarios here:

A. ) Very common name, and generic picture taken off the internet
B. ) The same family runs both restaurants
C. ) Either owner must have googled the name of his restaurant, saw that logo, and stole it
D. ) The disgruntled second sibling who did not inherit the restaurant stole the recipe, name, and logo and fled to America.

Ho Chi Minh quote in the Ho Chi Minh Museum. Thought it was interesting enough to take a picture of.

Hard to read but the name of this place is called Texas BBQ. The owner is a Vietnamese guy who used to live in Texas, changed his name to Wayne McCoy, moved back to Vietnam and opened up this joint. A bunch of Texas stuff all over. When I saw it my curiosity got the best of me, but it was actually pretty good.

View of the city from the window of my classroom. A picture from the other side of the building would look very different.

In other news, I am being eaten alive by mosquitoes. They are quickly making the case to supplant Edward Cullen as my most hated blood sucking creature. I've only managed to see about three since I've been here, but somehow they are able to bite me even under my clothes, around the clock. Its not even like they are doing this to survive; I can sense their hatred. What they are doing is malicious, and defies all the Laws of Nature.

On the teaching front, things are going much better. Spain defeated Germany, so one of my male students has to do an interpretive belly dance. I gave him the option of doing a 5 minute dance for my class, or a 1 minute dance for the entire floor. Regardless of what he chooses, I already told all the other teachers to bring their students in. The level of comfort and such seems to be increasing too, as more and more students are participating and speaking up. The main instructor, Phuong, also arrived which makes things a lot easier for me. I spent the first two days talking mad shit about California, which is where she is from, so now shes trying her hardest to turn the class on me. Yesterday a student (jokingly I think, but one can never quite tell) told me if she had a million dollars she would build a mental hospital and put me in it.

The housing front has seen mixed results. The original hostel I was staying at temporarily was pretty awesome, but too expensive so I moved down the street to one half the price. I won't name any names ( Hotel 96, 96 Bui Vien St. District 1), but there is a reason this place is cheaper. The friendly, family staff at Madam Cuc's place was replaced by the real life lady who the Matchmaker character from Mulan must have been based on. She was an exact replica in appearance and temperament, and seemed pissed off that I even considered staying at her place. As I was moving all my things into my new room, I almost think I heard her whisper under her breath that I would "never bring my family honor." There are some other minor problems that I am just being picky about, like not having hot water (which isn't that big of a deal because its so hot), but I've only got one day left here so everything is chill. Tomorrow I move into an apartment for the remainder of the summer. I'll have some videos or pictures of that hopefully soon.

Things are starting to move a lot faster, and there are still a lot of things I havn't talked about. yet that I want to talk about. I'll try to do my best to keep on top of things but, we'll see how it all works out.

P.S. As annoying and absolutely ridiculous as Lebron having an ESPN hour long special to tell us where he is playing is (yes I even heard about that here), he probably made the right choice.

"This is Madness!" "Madness?! THIS. IS. SAIGON!!!!!!"

So here is a clip I took on the back of a moped taxi on my daily commute to work. Its a little slow the first minute, but I think it provides a good survey of some general themes in Ho Chi Minh City traffic.

Video Analysis:

0:30 Notice the authentic Vietnamese baby-inspired hood ornament. Oh wait WHAT THE FUCK that is a infant riding shotgun. Little children dangling from every position on the mopeds are common, and usually their small, tender heads don't have any helmets. The level of badassness between American born kids and these rambos is mindblowing.

0:43 Johnny Pedestrian just does not give a damn. Hes got shit to do on the other side of the street.

1:24 Asian Chuck Norris riding the red moped has had enough. So what if a thousand motor vehicles are coming right at him. Like Moses through the Red Sea he intends to part the approaching moped army. We all silently admire his courage while cursing our own cowardice, and follow his lead. The revolution has been televised.

1:30 - 1:40 Hard to tell what exactly is going on, because at this point I was less concerned with capturing the action as I was with stiff-arming the two asshole car taxis. Shit was literally coming at me from 3 directions.

1:49 Uh, I meant to edit that out.

2:00 At this point in the video, you might be thinking to yourself, "Oh I didn't know they drive on the left side of the road in Vietnam... that's pretty cool." The truth is, over here people drive on whichever side they feel so inclined. I guess there was too much traffic, so obviously the safest and most convenient method is to attack the problem head on. This sort of proactive thinking is why Vietnam has been enjoying serious yearly economic growth. I havn't tested this theory yet, but I am almost convinced people are hired to drive against the flow of traffic or perpendicular from the street just to add to the overall chaos. One day when I get my own scooter I will follow another driver, because I honestly don't think they are purposely going anywhere.

Some other things you may have noticed but wasn't really shown in the video:

Facemasks: A LOT of people wear either surgeon type face masks or a type of ninja-inspired cloth face guard. At first I thought this was some sort of SARS paranoia, but its to protect from the pollution. The pollution isn't terrible walking around the city, but driving behind a wall of moped fumes all day does add up. The masks add a very sinister look to the traffic. I am half expecting someone to pull out an uzi and gun me down like a James Bond or John Woo film.

A decent amount of people also wear some extra arm cloth protection thing. It may be to shield the skin from getting shredded in the event of an accident, but my hunch tells me it has more to do with preventing their skin from a more serious, social ailment: Getting tanned to the point that, God forbid, you look Cambodian.

Sidewalks: Seeing as how crossing the street and riding is a serious health hazard, you would imagine the sidewalks to be a safe haven of sorts from all the motor madness. Wrong. At any given point, a simple sidewalk can turn into a passing lane, impromptu parking lot, diner, or even a public restroom for children.


My Street


This is Bui Vien, the street I am currently living off of. Pretty much every 3rd building is a backpackers' hostel. The other buildings are either small shops or eating establishments. On the sidewalks are also a shit ton of food carts. I'll give a more in depth post about this street, but its actually really cool. More videos and pictures later too, but I just got out of my second day of class, and I am tired/hungry as hell.

First Class

18-22 years ago, 30 bright young Vietnamese minds came into this world. Natural gifts and machine-like work ethic powered them passed their peers. When their friends were busy lolly-gagging around they hit the books. They constantly exhibited iron willpower and strength of character, demolishing all obstacles that stood in their way. All they needed now was some extra instruction in the English language to propel them to the next level. Their careers, families, and indeed their nation needed this crucial next step; one which they have poured two decades of blood, sweat, and tears to reach. Truth be told, they were all only one Yoda/Coach Carter/Dumbledore/Robbin-William's-Character-From-Good-Will-Hunting inspirational type character away from reaching the pinnacle of human greatness.

However, they would quickly learn that this world can be a cruel, dark place. In a demented twist of fate, it would not be Splinter, Maradona, the ghost of Mufasa (or rafiki?), Zordon, or even a responsible adult who would walk through the door, but instead: THIS GUY. No one has been more ill suited or underqualified for a position since Steve Blake conned the Portland Trail Blazers into becoming a starting NBA point guard. Such youth... such potential... all down the drain.

Dramatics aside, today I taught my first two classes. Technically I am only the assistant instructor but the main instructor is still a few days away from arriving (along with the materials and lesson plans) so today I was flying solo. Actually, it was a lot more fun and a lot harder than I imagined. Most of the students are either my age, give or take a couple years, and really enthusiastic. Few minutes into class I was already getting interrogated with tough questions, such as my opinion on Vietnamese vs. American girls. Lets just say even Sarah Palin would have had a better, less "Oh shit wtf just happened, SAY ANYTHING" answer than what came out of my mouth.

Also it must be the innate gambling instincts of Vietnamese people or the fact that I was trying to eat up as much time as possible, but I already got myself involved in some serious bets regarding the world cup with each of my classes. The stakes start as harmlessly as getting less homework but mercilessly escalate to belly dancing and karaoke. Basically, Torres needs to step up his shit or I am fucked.

The building I am working in is one of the larger buildings, and it has AC which is a plus. The only thing is my classes aren't officially part of the VUS organization, so I don't have much access (Read: none) to things like a projector, printer, etc. so the first class didn't go as smoothly as I wanted but I think I managed.

I also met three of the other teachers (two more are coming later), and they all seem pretty chill. I was already excited for the rest of this summer, but now that I see what the actual teaching part will be like I've got high expectations. Also took another video on the back of some guys moped, which starts off a bit slow but I almost die about 6-7 times in the span of a few seconds during one intersection. Trying to find a cable to upload it... stay tuned.

P.S. Happy 4th. U-S-A!

First Impressions

So far, I have come to the conclusion that Saigon is a fucking crazy place. The first thing that you notice here is the traffic, which at initial glance looks devoid of any laws or regulations. In a city of 7ish million people and 4 million mopeds, it seems like all of them are converging at one intersection simultaneously. Somehow it works because I have not seen any accidents here yet. The madness is not just the sheer volume of mopeds and bikes, but its the noise as well. Everyone is spamming their horn like its going out of style. On the busy streets and intersections that makes sense because it looks like shit is going to hit the fan at any given moment, but the horn abuse is a little silly on the smaller one-way alleys. It could be quiet for a few seconds until someone starts honking, then everyone will join in subconsciously. For some reason it reminded me of the scene from "Finding Nemo" where one seagull sees something and starts saying "MINE MINE MINE" then all of his buddies join in.

However as Fast and Furious as the driving is, crossing the street has been even more nerve wracking. That neon green crosswalk stick figure that makes pedestrian life so easy in America is no where to be seen here. Instead, you just walk through the middle of a sea of mopeds and cars and pray you don't get hit. The trick is to walk in a steady pace and make no sudden movements. Usually I try to tag along with a much braver (and usually much younger) local Vietnamese pedestrian and shadow their footsteps. I'm getting the hang of it, but its still embarrassing when I am trying to time my crossing like Frogger and some old lady carrying 50 pounds of shit just waltzes through a busy street like she is purposely trying to punk me.

The other means of transportation I have been using here is the xe om, which is basically a moped taxi. For one or two dollars you can get around most of central Saigon on the back of some guys moped. However the main price you pay isn't in the form of US dollars of Vietnamese Dong, you pay with the feeling you get that you are hopelessly going to die a fiery death. These guys usually drive even faster and more recklessly than usual, because the cost isn't meter based but a pre-negotiated price. Even though I havnt seen the movie Knight and Day, I felt like what I imagine Cameron Diaz must have felt like during that motorcycle chase scene. Only my Tom Cruise was even crazier, if that is possible.

The other thing that you cannot escape is the heat. I often commented in Tunisia how the heat in North Africa was akin to Satan's asshole. While that may still be the case, this is like Satan's asshole if he sharted. The temperature has been hovering around 95ish F, but the humidity is what gets you. After you step out of the shower you instantly feel like you need to take another. After the shitty weather we've been getting in Oregon lately though, I cant really complain.

The place I am temporarily staying at now is a place called backpackersville, which is a neighborhood that has a shit ton of hostels and inns, and even more tank-top clad european backpackers. Likewise, the allure of acquiring some Euros or Greenbacks has drawn a lot of Vietnamese vendors, and this place is madness. I am in a sort of twilight zone here, because most of the Europeans mistake me for a Vietnamese citizen and all of the Vietnamese can instantly tell I am from the U.S. I get asked a lot of questions from tourists in restaurants and hotel lobbies in slow, exaggerated English like I am staff, but the surprise that escapes on their faces when I answer in English is enough to keep it amusing. On the contrary, about 99% of every Vietnamese person here opens the conversation with English, not taking any chances.

My more permanent housing is yet to be determined but I will move there later this week. I start what I came here to do tomorrow, and I still have no idea what in the hell I am doing but improvisation is the name of the game in this city. Took some crazy videos and pictures but I forgot to bring the cable that connects my camera to my computer, so those will have to wait. My brain is overloaded with what I am taking in right now, so I will wait for further updates to attempt to explain everything. Seriously though, this place is awesome.

Bad Omens

Just arrived in Saigon after 3 years of flying, but not without a few bad omens along the way.

1st: Mysteriously lost my driver's license right before my plane. If anyone sees a license with a handsome devil on the front who is legally able to drive class C vehicles, give it to my sister or something.

2nd: Saw Greg Oden at the airport. Usually that would be pretty cool, but that fucker is still limping. Trade him for Sergio Rodriguez back.

3rd: Ripped black guy wearing Abercrombie and a du rag on my flight to Taiwan. That is like a black cat smashing a mirror with an open umbrella under some stairs. Firmly entrenched in the Bizarro realm.

4th: A not insignificant number of passengers wearing those SARS/Swine Flu masks. Do they know something I don't? Alert level code orange.

5th: CODE RED. CODE RED. In a plane full of Asians, I sat down next to a Mormon missionary. Imagine one of those biker missionaries knocking on your door trying to convert you, and every time you politely told them to shut the fuck up they kept on knocking again and you had to listen. Now imagine this was at 2:30 in the morning. For 14 hours. It must have been karma for that one time I accidentally used the disabled stall when a guy in a wheel-chair had just entered the bathroom.

6th: Some sketchass literally walked out of the airplane bathroom with shitstained toilet paper hanging off the end of his pants. It dropped conveniently right in front of my seat. Before I could even react, a steward came running to pick it up and thought it was mine, giving me a world class death stare. A truly horrific experience that was so surreal I still don't fully comprehend what happened. I didn't even defend myself.

A very weird and long journey just to get here that does not bode well. Whoever said the journey is more important than the destination never flew on a cross oceanic flight. Anyway I am alive, which is something. Now... time to get my bearings straight and do some exploration.