The sequel will be loosely based on my life this weekendThe 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.
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.
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.
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.
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