Shifting Continents

There is no longer a Greenman in Asia. However, there is a Greenman in Greece.

DUN DUN DUN.

The End.

So maybe this was going to be a long, heartfelt and tear soaked farewell letter to my beloved homeland but time constraints and a raging hangover say otherwise. Last night I had a BBQ on the roof of my building for my co-workers and about 17ish students, as sort of a Hey-I-Might-Never-See-Any-Of-You-Again type of party. Actually it began that way, but halfway through it switched to an Eviction Party as I successfully managed to unite the entire block in their hatred against me. Seriously though, around the clock Vietnam has to be the noisiest country I have ever been to, by far. I mean my neighbors a floor below me karaoke at 2am on a Tuesday. Not to mention the assclown in the building adjacent to my room who has been aimlessly hammering something for the last 15 minutes, even though its only 8:00am. But as soon as I finally get some payback, somehow all my neighbors suddenly remembered that being obnoxiously noisy is kind of a dick move.

Anyway that's neither here nor there, because it was an awesome night regardless. Some random things I will most definitely miss:

• The 15-20 minutes before class each day when all of the faculty would try to scramble and put together a lesson plan (uh... just kidding students, we always knew what we were doing)
  
• Mobbing around town in a large group of motorbikes weaving through traffic
  
• Michelle Obama
• The chaos that rules this city that somehow manages to work and make sense in a purely Vietnamese way
• Being able to eat delicious street food around the clock for less than a dollar
• Just hearing the Vietnamese language everywhere
• The tenacity and general badass-ness that characterize the Vietnamese spirit
  

But of course, I will obviously miss the people the most. Specifically, all of my hilarious co-workers and students. Hands down the best part of traveling is being able to meet new people. This also means that eventually, you will have to leave these people and face the very real prospect of never seeing them again. Between graduating, Tunisia, here, and wherever I end up next, I feel like I am always breaking off a part of me and leaving it behind. Of course I genuinely mean it when I say I will return or we will see each other again, but sometimes life is a tricky biatch. Anyway I have one class left and short time to pack my life up again and to get out of dodge.

So to the land of my Father and my Father's Father, to the land that most people (myself included) only know about through poorly researched and Cambodian-casted Vietnam War films, to the land that, even when ugly is still the most Beautiful Country in the World, goodbye.

Now, how do you say Hello in Greek?

Beaches, Buddhas, and Beer Part III/III: Hiding from the Po

The Hangover. D;

Igniting World War III

After the madness at the Wink's house, we drank more and decided to hop down to the beach. Going to the beach drunk in the middle of the night is always epic, but this particular night we were assaulted by jellyfish and jagged rocks stealthily placed under the sand. Some students got stung, I sprinted on top of such a rock and tore up my right foot. Still hobbling around like an assclown today.

Anyway when we all got back, the majority of the people had to quickly shower to catch a 2am shuttle back to Saigon. Meanwhile, I had not dropped a deuce the entire weekend yet. That is only sort of a big deal back in the States, but waiting that long in Vietnam is reckless. To complicate things further, the shower and the toilet are in the same room, without any stalls or anything. Being the nice guy that I am, I patiently waited and plotted for everyone to finish their showers before I would, as Maximus from Gladiator put it, "Unleash Hell."

And Unleash Hell was exactly what I did. I destroyed that toilet with extreme prejudice. From time to time, we do things that we are not in the slightest bit proud of. This was definitely one of those times. In the midst of my horror, I realized I had clogged the toilet with my destructive ordinances. I should have known that Vietnamese plumbing would pose no match for what had been brewing in my digestive track. The collateral damage of my actions rendered the single bathroom/shower useless. Even though I tried my hardest to avoid it, there will always be civilian casualties in times of war.

A single civilian casualty, I mean. Minh's drunkass momentarily passed out so he did not shower before I fired the first shots of WW3. However when he came to, he rushed to the bathroom to unload his own cargo and change out of his wet clothes. It only took a second in the bathroom before he ran back out, visibly shaken by the carnage I had involuntarily left behind, and cursed my name a thousand times before he drunkenly trailed off into a deep slumber, still soaking.

While I quite literally had the first laugh, it was far from over. In the morning, Gentlemen Rules of Warfare dictated that Minh should have the first shower, which had been magically cleaned by the toilet gnomes somehow. This was a bad mistake on my part. His Retribution was vicious and swift. He claims he involuntarily clogged it, but I call bullshit. Seriously though, when I went in there after to take my shower, I started crying. None of my five senses were spared. What I saw that day, even if only for a brief second, was seared into my eyes. The shit was represented in all known and unknown phases of Matter.

Anyway, that was really gross and I'm sure no one needed to read that. Here are some random pictures of us driving that day along a pretty sweet hidden stretch of highway that the Wink knew.

Schindler's List

The original plan was to catch the 1:30pm train back to Saigon. A normal ticket cost 60,000VND (about $3 USD), and another 40,000VND to put my motorbike on it. Of course, this is Vietnam, where everyone knows somebody else who can hook you up. In this case, The Wink set us up with an inside man, who we will refer to from here on out as Mrs. Schindler. I'm not even sure what the new plan was, but suddenly we were on the train without a ticket and Mrs. Schindler was supposed to find us some seats or something.

We lost her but managed to find five empty seats ourselves. All was well for about an hour, before we hit the next stop and the train became overcrowded. Five people with actual tickets for our seats had arrived, and we were ousted with no where to go. We went to the Canteen at the rear of the train, and sat down at a table nervously plotting our next move. However once here, we would have to order food to maintain a position at one of the few and desperately needed tables. Our solution was to drag out a plate of stir-fried noodles over a span of an hour. So far so good, only three more hours to home.

However, this is when the Gestapo- err train security caught us without tickets. They brought 'Tom' over to a corner to interrogate him. Here's a picture taken by a witness:

This is when our hero and savior Mrs. Schindler stepped in:

As you can see his/her face is edited with professional software to protect his/her identity. Anyway a deal was brokered. We would not be thrown off the moving train afterall, and were allowed to stuff ourselves into a small closet for a marked up price. Here is a picture of our prison cell:

A few more hours later and I had finally managed to return to my room, probably dirtier than any point of my life. I was so exhausted I passed out as soon as I hit my bed.

In other news, I only have a small handful of days left here. This was the fastest summer I can remember. Soon, it will be "A Greenman in Greece". Speaking of Greenman, he's got a couple tricks up his sleeve for these last few days. And don't be surprised if you see Greenmonk either. But Oy, I've already said too much.

Beaches, Buddhas, and Beer Part II/III: Ta Cu Mountain

Mui Ne

Although Mui Ne is one of the more developed and crowded beaches in Viet Nam, it still is quite beautiful and cleaner than most beaches that are comparatively populated. I forgot to take any pictures, and aside from almost killing Minh a view times via Jet Ski it was just a typical relaxing day at the beach so I'm going to skip straight to Ta Cu Mountain.

Ta Cu Mountain

Somewhere at the top lurks a large Buddha statue that has no business being at the top of a mountain.

When I first heard the word "Ta Cu" I thought of tacos, which I am sorely missing. If you think you know a better taco truck in Eugene than Ernesto's truck off of Franklin, I'm going to do my best Kanye impression and say Imma let you finish but Ernesto has some of the best tacos of all time.

Anyway I had no idea what to expect. I figured it was going to be a cheesy tourist trap with a short, paved trip to the top. Although its child's play compared to anything what a mountain climber would tackle, it proved to be a decently steep and slippery hike that definitely kicked my ass by the time I made it to the top. I was huffing and puffing the majority of the few hours it took to reach the temple complex, and I had thoroughly sweated through my jeans and two shirts. Seriously, I don't remember sweating that hard since I wrestled in high school and had to cut water weight by working out in a sauna.

Entrance into the Belly of the Beast

Base Camp

No more incline near the top, going to the other side

Our original group of 14 people broke up into many pieces over the course of the climb. We were the first 5, finally making it to the base of the temple complex. Seriously, I may look douchey trying to look like a hardass right now, but the real case is that I was so tired and dehydrated I was just staring off into space the last 30 minutes of the hike.

One last staircase...

Very Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-esque. If you were wondering if a giant Monk vs. Hiker Kung Fu battle exploded here, the answer is yes.

So we finally reach the top and you may be thinking to yourself, "where the hell is this giant Buddha statue?". Hold on, we'll get there. First, we had to refresh ourselves with some classic monk-approved vegetarian instant noodles. Secondly, an army of little baby monks came out of no where and of course a photoshoot ensued. They were ridiculously cute, and I didn't mind about the fact that we looked like a living Angelina-Jolie-holding-an-African-child-in-US-Weekly type of picture. Judge for yourself:

Pretty sure Angelina Jolie has this EXACT picture. Only with African children, of course.

If you are the type that hates cute children and loves large sculptures of major world religious figures, hold on. Big Daddy is coming. Only after I replenished my body with fluids and sustenance did I remember my purpose for climbing this slippery, muggy bitch of a mountain. Turns out there were a few more sets of stairs passed the main temple building that lead to a series of statues and eventually to His Reclined Holiness himself. I say reclined because, well you'll see.

Very Lord of the Rings. I heard "You Shall Not PASS" in a FOB voice in my head and chuckled to myself.

According to Minh, this is also one of the characters from the famous Chinese Epic "A Journey West"

I just realized I failed hard and this was the only picture I took of the reclined Buddha. It is kind of cheating because the 49 meters that were advertised is horizontal, but this statue was still ridiculously large. Especially considering its location and what not.

I think I enjoyed the mountain much more than the beach. As beautiful as it was, you can find beaches anywhere. An experience like this though, is what I had in mind when the possibility of spending the summer in Viet Nam became apparent. After we got back from the mountain, we all set up camp at the Wink's house, a former student of mine (described in a previous blog entry) who's hometown is Phan Thiet.

Residence of the Wink and the Art of Nhau

Actually it is now The Wink, Attorney at Law now that he has passed his recent law exams. Anyway his family's house is half law office/half rest stop. Basically, the perfect place to feast and get sloppily drunk, or to nhau. Before the waves of beer however, there first came waves of seafood. His family graciously provided us with bucket-fulls (quite literally) of fresh seafood that we were able to grill in front of us.

Now, the Drinking. Remember this was a rest stop, a sort of 7-11 meets cafe type of deal, so there was an abundance of beer in storage. We would spend the next few hours attempting to eradicate the entire supply. When Vietnamese people drink, they start off by clanging the glasses together and chanting a hearty "một, hai, ba... Yo/Zo!", which roughly translates to One, Two, Three, In! After the first session, basically any time an assclown starts counting loudly everyone at the table has to join in and drink more. If you sit out, you quickly become the victim of vicious middle school style peer pressure and jeers. For this particular night, I was that assclown.

Once many beers get knocked out, the drinking songs make an appearance. The one I remember from that night is,

"Lâu lâu lâu thì ta mới nhậu một lần
Lâu lâu lâu thì ta mới nhậu một lần
Nhậu một lần ta uống cho say
Nhậu một lần ta uống..cho say!!!!!!
...
Bao nhiêu đây thì đâu có nhằm nhò gì!
Bao nhiêu đây thì đâu có nhằm nhò gì!
Ngồi trong bàn không uống ai coi,
Ngồi trong bàn không uống..ai coi!!"

Really roughly, it means you are drinking after a long time, but when you do drink you have to drink to get schwasted. The second stanza is saying the amount of alcohol consumed/present already is not enough, and if you are sitting at the table and not drinking no one gives a shit about you. In other words, this is the best song of all time.

At some point, I decided it was my duty as an educator to introduce the American custom of shotgunning a beer. Predictably comical results.




OK now look at that second picture closely. Stop taking notes on my perfect form and technique, and concentrate on Minh. Keep in mind he is an American and has spent 4 years at UCLA. Now, look at where all the beer from his can is directed. We did not know it at the time, but Minh was sloshed beyond all recognition at this point. Further evidence:



There are people who go around by bike selling candy and treats. They also have a amped up microphone, in which they sing into to attract attention. Now you may be thinking that this sounds like the most To Catch a Predator business model you've ever heard of, but its quite normal here. Anyway, this particular salesman sees our large group and pedals up. Minh takes his microphone and hilarity ensues. It might not be as funny if you don't understand Vietnamese or if you don't know the people involved, but here it is anyway. Sorry Minh.

But to embarrass someone else so Minh doesn't feel left out, here is a video of one of our students who has just figured out Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus are the same person. Tom, his American name, is easily the biggest guy in our group. However his top three likes include the Disney Channel, 3D animated cartoons, and Lady GaGa/top 40 pop music.




And here are some random government sponsored billboards around Phan Thiet that I thought were interesting.




Be Cool, Wrap Your Tool.

Beaches, Buddhas, and Beer Part I/III: The Longest Journey

This weekend was arguably the most ridiculous weekend in an already ridiculous summer. As such, three separate posts will be required to even scratch the surface of my experience. I met my co-workers and some of my students in the beach towns of Phan Thiet and Mui Ne, hiked a mountain in search of a Big Ass (49 meters) Buddha statue, and was involved in numerous authentic Vietnamese Shenanigans.

Part I: Driving my motorbike from Sai Gon to Phan Thiet, an eight hour trip that consisted mostly of coastal roads.

Part II: Exploring the All-World caliber natural entities of Viet Nam. From the awesome vanity of Mui Ne's beaches to the sacred temple complex atop Ta Cu mountain.

Part III: Nhau session (READ: Vietnamese people drinking heavily while singing catchy songs) session at a student's family's house in Phan Thiet, and our hilariously illegal trip home. The second part was much like The Sound of Music. I Don't mean the cute Austrian school outfit singing bit, but the hiding from Nazis bit. Anyway, part I:

The Police, aka The Fuzz, The Po, 5-0, Pigs, or Cảnh Sát

When I told everyone that I was going to motorbike along the coast and meet them all there, they were all horrified for two justifiable reasons. First, their collective opinions of my motorbiking skills pales in comparison to my own. Second, they were positive that I would get caught up by the highway police for not having a license (which I obviously do if the Po happens to be reading this). I told them they were all being silly, and left my apartment at 4:00am to avoid traffic.

Literally down the street from my apartment I got waved down by Los Federales for a lane violation. Lets get one thing clear here: Not since HCMC had been the Khmer fishing village of Prey Nokor many thousands of years ago has anyone received a fucking lane violation. There are more lane violations called in an NBA preseason game.

Anyway, between cursing myself for being an idiot and on the verge of involuntarily shitting my pants from fear, I think I managed to keep a straight enough face. I quickly adopted the oldest traveling trick in the book, only speaking English and acting like a confused, asshole American. eventually it worked and he was frustrated enough to whip out his handy Chart-o-Corruption. After calculating the variables, I was able to resume my journey for 200,000 VND, or roughly $10 USD.

HCMC to Bien Hoa

I crossed the Sai Gon Bridge, continued on the Ha Noi Highway, and drove 20-something kilometers to the crossroad town of Bien Hoa. Without a doubt, leaving the city was the most confusing mess I've ever experienced. If it wasn't at 4am, I would have surely died. At random times the highway separates from truck-car- and motorbike-lanes divided by a median without warning, only to reconnect through gaps in the wall as the motorbike lane evolves into an exit towards some unknown part of town. Large portions of this road resembles a deep trench, with giant walls on either side. The concept of a motorbike lane becomes nonexistent, and the motorbikes are forced to drive on the margins, next to the giant trucks and buses.

There also happened to be a power outage at this point, so visibility was at an all-time low. Combined with the fact that there was thunder down the highway and still being shaken up from the police, I was seriously considering if this was such a advisable life decision, or if I was even going to make it alive. However I arrived at Bien Hoa, found the fabled traffic circle, and merged onto Highway 51 towards Vung Tau and the coast as the sun began to breath life back into me.

Bien Hoa to Long Hai





Unlike the road to Bien Hoa, which was packed with large trucks that constantly shat-ed fumes in my face and surrounded by Soviet-era concrete, the highway from Bien Hoa to the small coastal village of Long Hai was much more empty and was flanked by endless rice fields and water buffalo. I stopped at another crossroads town by the name of Ba Ria to eat breakfast (Bo Kho, a sort of beef stew eaten with bread. Diggity Dank), served by a certain type of cranky hag. About two hours later on this highway and I would finally make it to the coast.

Long Hai to Dinh Chau







Supposedly there is a coastal highway called the Long Hai-Dinh Chau highway. While I did enjoy a 4-5 hour ride along the beach, I'm not sure if I was ever on that mysterious highway because Long Hai is confusing as shit and I got quite lost. The man or woman in charge of putting up road signs definitely needs improvement. I entered Long Hai via Highway 51, but that highway quickly dissolves into smaller roads and alleyways. It took a decent amount of time backtracking and making a fool of myself as I kept reappearing in front of the same curious stall keepers in the Long Hai maze of a market before I finally found an escape.

Once I finally found the coast, it was smooth sailing from then on out. For those 4-5 hours, the coast would alternate between uninhabited stretches of pristine beaches, sleepy fishing villages, and massive resort developments. I was also able to test the true strength of Michelle Obama, although concern for my safety kept the speed just under triple digits at its peak. Yes, pathetic compared to a motorcycle, but hey at least I got to enjoy a beautiful stretch of the Pacific Coast from the other side.

Dinh Chau to Phan Thiet

The coastal road ended at a town called Dinh Chau, where I would have to go inland, pass La Gi, and take another hour and a half towards Phan Thiet. By now I was getting a little exhausted. You know when you drive long distances in a car and you play that really safe sleep-for-two-seconds-at-a-time game? Yeah I was definitely involved with that. Anyway this road featured some larger towns along the way, but once again more rice fields and water buffalo.

Also, the water buffalo tend to be situated right on the side of the highway and there was considerably more oncoming traffic. Whenever a large oncoming truck or bus wanted to pass a motorbike in front of them, they would have to go onto my lane to do so because they were so large in comparison to the road, and I would have to veer off a bit into the dirt. A few times they pulled this maneuver when the road was lined with buffalo. I never thought I would ask myself if I would rather die by machine or bovine, but that question instinctively popped into my mind.

Eight hours and the most brutal farmer's tan later, I arrived in Phan Thiet, had a cold 333 beer, and met up with my colleagues and students. Although it was definitely frightening at first, and frustrating at times throughout, I would highly suggest anyone who visits Vietnam to rent a bike for a few days and take an extended trip up the coast. The scenery is really beautiful and after you trust yourself enough, quite relaxing as well. Despite my long day, it was only around noon and the real weekend was about to start.

The Art and Science of Motorbiking in Ho Chi Minh City

In the U.S. riding a motorbike instead of a motorcycle is like drinking a Bud Light Lime or a Miller Chill. Luckily, over here my testosterone is comparably intact. This is the motorbike I am renting: Strong, Black, and stands for Change I can Believe In. Naturally I have dubbed her Michelle Obama. Riding Michelle Obama has changed my life here in HCMC while also threatening to end it. You may also notice my cheesy bandanna I use to cover my mouth. As I said in an earlier post, the majority of drivers here have some sort of covering cloth to protect against dust, bugs, and Cambodian-inducing sunlight. Anywhere, here are some unofficial observations of what I perceive to be the rules, regulations, and dangers of cruising around the city.

Traffic Lights and Lanes:

A common quip about the traffic light system here is that they are more like suggestions. I don't think that is an accurate statement. Here, they are more like a direct challenge to the mass and volume of your balls. Sometimes when I am driving late at night the light posts turn into an Asian version of The Situation and I can hear him taunting my manhood. Similar to the U.S., you are permitted to take a right turn on red lights. Slightly different from the U.S., during a red light you are also seemingly allowed to go straight, take a left, pull a U-Turn, or do donuts in the middle of the intersection while flipping people off. It all boils down to how much of a hurry you are in, and how brave/stupid you are. The flipside of this is that during green lights, you have to be constantly on the lookout for cowboys racing towards you from the other 359 degrees.

Lanes offer just as much structure as the traffic lights, holding the mob of motorized vehicles worse than New Orleans' levies and dikes during Katrina. Technically there are dotted and solid lines to distinguish between the direction of the lane, but all that goes out the window when there is a lot of traffic. It is very common to see (and do yourself) people briefly going into oncoming traffic to pass the motorbikes/cars in front of them, or to witness an entire direction of traffic gobble up the opposing traffic's lanes. If I had to reduce the craziness of driving in this city to one rule, it would be: You can and go or do whatever as long as your bike can physically do it.

Dangers and Obstacles:

• Cars: Although any direct collision with a car will severely fuck up your shit, they are the least of my worries. They are slow, clumsy, and generally yield for motorbikes. There are definitely many more cars than I remember when I was here thirteen years ago, but the roads still belong to the moped.
  

• Buses/Trucks: These monstrosities require much more attention. Although they are slower than cars and usually yield to mopeds as well, their enormous size means that on many streets they take up most of the paved real estate. Luckily I have noticed most of them come equipped with two different horns. The first is a constant "dee-dee-doo-doo-dee-dee-doo-doo" sound. Much like the fat girl at a party pretending to be drunk who is constantly howling, this first horn is attention-whoring at its worst and is quickly ignored. The second horn is a much louder, soul piercing noise. When I hear this, it means that the shit is flying towards the fan at a dangerous rate and it is best to get the hell out of the way. Buses can also act as a screen against incoming traffic when turning left on busy intersections. The benefit is the ability to turn without having to weave through a a horde of assholes. The risk is, in the event you pull it off wrong or the bus makes a sudden movement, you die.

Getting ready to use the bus as a shield.

• Pedestrians: Having been on both teams, I have to say I hate pedestrians. Beboppin' and Scattin' through the streets with such arrogance and entitlement, these selfish dicks are nothing more than walking landmines. Also, they are mean. OK, so I barely scraped your son's face with my side-view mirror, get off your pedestal and get over yourself.
  

• Food Carts: If I had to bet money on how I am going to get in a motor accident here, I would put my money on a food cart-related accident. On two-lane streets, the left lane is for cars when they are present, so all the bikes are pushed to the right lane. In a stroke of genius, this is where many food carts like to situate themselves. This means many times during a drive, I find myself having to squeeze between a cart and a car. Even worse is when the person in front of me decides he/she wants some fresh coconut juice and abruptly stops. The absolute WORST however, is when one of these carts packs up and crosses the street. It is also part of the Vietnamese Constitution that you must be above the age of 75 and have had survived at least two wars in order to own and operate a cart. The snails pace at which these grandmother-powered carts cross the street combined with the many metal poles that stick out from all directions make for a very formidable death trap.

• Traffic Circles: Arrested Development being canceled after only 3 seasons. The "Tea Party" and its "Teabaggers". Female thought process and behavior. These are all things that neither Science nor Religion can ever hope to explain. The numerous traffic circles in Vietnam certainly belong in this list. Usually, a traffic circle makes sense if their are lights, yield signs, more than 2 roads intersecting each other, etc. However the traffic circles here are a giant free-for-all. Its as though the city planner said, "How can I maximize the amount of collisions and create the most dangerous location, while still providing a cute place to put up a statue?" Just imagine bicycles, motorbikes, cars, and buses coming from 4-8 different locations spinning around a circle simultaneously going every direction, and you get the general idea. If you mentally incapable of imagining that, here is a video I took the first week I was here at a smaller traffic circle with only 4 ways to go (it doesn't even have a statue!):

• Road Rage: In the U.S., it is way too easy to roll up your window, act hard, and yell out profanities all in the comfort and protection of your own car. I am probably most guilty of this. Here however, everyone is literally a couple feet away from you and there is no fiber glass or window to protect you. I was surprised by the sudden reaction I got when I yelled out "EAT A DICK!" or "BITCHCLOWN" at people who almost hit me. I doubt they understood what I was saying, but its generally a rule of thumb here that you keep your mouth shut unless some serious shit went down. The alternative I've noticed is a range of death stares. Starting at "I can tell you are an American" and "Dick move asshole", I recall seeing a few faces that roughly translate into "I will sodomize your first-born child" and other more serious threats.

Motorbike Mobbing:

My students are both horrified and amazed that I decided to rent my own bike. Swarming around town with them is one of my new favorite hobbies. I think I am keeping up, until some 90 lb. student cruises right passed me and yells out that I drive like a grandmother. Seriously though, it's like they've all studied Vin Diesel driving tape. Here are some pictures/videos Minh took of the 2nd day I got my bike, and a group of us feasting:

Not entirely sure of the noises Minh and Fenny (our student/his driver) are making in the first video haha. Also, these pictures do a horrible injustice to the traffic and chaos of Saigon but you get the point.

Anyway I was going to post more shit about various happenings but this is way too much writing already. Tomorrow I am going to a charity event for kids affected by Agent Orange, and this weekend I am heading to the beach town of Mui Ne. (by train and by motorbike, which should be awesome). Should be good times all around, and hopefully some things interesting enough to write about. Until then, eh?

P.S. Three weeks left. That was fast.

P.P.S. I am getting married. Won't be back for a bit.