War & Peace

One of the great things about having so many visitors is that it guarantees I see everything in Hanoi. PJ and I went for a ride around the city last week and stopped in two places I had never been. The first place was the oldest pagoda in Hanoi.

Immediately upon entering the pagoda, which is on the edge of West Lake, we heard some chanting. We followed the noise to the back of the pagoda where about thirty women and one man were chanting Buddhist hymns.



After this peaceful morning we decided to balance it with a little violence -- we went to the Vietnamese War Museum. The museum is basically a collection of old USA (and a few French) war materials: choppers, fighter planes, tanks, bombs, guns, etc.

The cool thing about the museum wasn't the war supplies but rather the Flag Tower at the front of the museum.
The flag tower was built in 1812 and is one of the most recognizable symbols of Hanoi. I've passed it a hundred times but finally got a chance to climb it. The views from the top were pretty spectacular. The coolest view was of a soccer field behind the War Museum where some soldiers were doing drills with their rifles. There was a sign on top of the tower that said pictures weren't allowed to be taken. Being a law abiding citizen, I obeyed the sign. However, PJ, being a celebrity thought the rules were for regular people and snapped away a few pictures. Oddly though the pictures didn't come out. I chalk it up to communist technology.

Dinner With A Celebrity

(PJ holding a bootleg copy of his show's DVD. Sadly for him he'll see no residuals from this Chinese rip off DVD set.)

Twice over the last month I've had dinner with random fans of ahoyhanoi who have been in town. They have emailed me for advice about Hanoi and asked if I'd like to join them for dinner. I knew it would break their hearts if I said no, so I helped make their dreams comes true.

Well, this past week I got my chance to have dinner with a celebrity -- my friend Paul James, star of ABC Family's Greek came for a visit (Feel free to check out PJ's IMDB page: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1482818/ ).

About a month or two ago I emailed PJ saying that I saw a bootleg copy of Greek Season I on the streets of the Old Quarter. To be honest, I'm pretty sure he came to visit just to see the bootleg copy since it was the first sight we saw the morning after he arrived. After picking up the copy PJ started to hysterically laugh. There were some glaring errors on the DVD. Here's just a few that I remember:

1. The four names on the top of the DVD included PJ, two other stars of the show, and one random extra who had appeared on an episode.

2. The back had a glowing review from Roeper and Ebert giving the show, "Two Thumbs Up." One problem, those guys don't review TV shows.

3. The back of the DVD also said it featured a new hit song by Emminem. Yeah, no such song inside.

Anyway, the highlight of picking up the DVD was when I pointed out to the shop owner that PJ was on the cover of the box (it's hard to see from this picture but he's in the red cup on the top left and on the back of the DVD). The lady smiled from ear to ear and pointed at PJ, "You." PJ smiled and said yes. He clearly made her day...although she still charged him full price.

The Vietnamese Tattoo

Tattoos aren't that common in Vietnam. However, there's one you see all the time here:

(PICTURE: The Vietnamese tattoo)

Okay, yeah, that's not a tattoo. It's a scar. However, literally 50% of Vietnamese women (and maybe 70% of foreign women living in Vietnam) have the same scar. What is it and why do they have it? Well, it's quite simple -- it's a burn from a motorbike.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that engines get hot when you drive them. Well, on motorbikes part of of the engine is exposed and perfectly level with one's calf. I've heard many different accounts of how girls have gotten this scar. Generally it's either from:
1. Falling off their motorbike and having the pipe land on their leg. Ouch.
2. Just being stupid and getting off the bike and glancing your leg up against the pipe.
3. Parking in a packed parking garage. In this case they don't get the scar from their bike but rather from the one next to them which hasn't cooled down yet.

I don't have a scar -- luckily. About four months ago I burnt myself doing a combination of #2 and #2. I parked in a very tight parking lot and decided to get off my bike on the right side...which I never do. I got off and all of a sudden felt a warm sensation down my right leg...I was leaning up against the scalding hot pipe on my bike. I immediately yelped and poured some luke-warm bottled water on myself. Somehow that did the job and I've remained scar/tattoo free.

VETS

A couple of weeks ago I had a comment from LH in Kentucky. He was responding to my first post about Hayden and wrote:

Dear Ben,
I hope your friend Hayden recovers quickly. The jungles of southeast Asia aren't very forgiving to those how get lost in them.
I've been reading your blog for about a month now and have enjoyed reading about your experiences very much. I'm a disabled Marine combat veteran and I spent alot of time in the jungles of Vietnam. I also put alot of time in the QueSon mountains.
I've always wanted to return to Vietnam and experience all the good things Vietnam and it's people have to offer. But for now I guess I'll live vicariously through your adventures.
You and your family have my prayers for your safety while from home.
Have you ever been to Quang Tri or Quang Nam? If so' please write about them on your blog if you have time.
All The Best, LH (in Kentucky)

LH's comment got me thinking: I haven't met any American Vets from the Vietnam War since moving to Vietnam. My only brush with a American Vet was when I was taking my two week training course in Cambodia. While on a break at the university in Phnom Penh, I had a brief conversation with an American. The guy, who to me looked like he was in his early 40s, asked me what I was doing. I told him I was taking a course to get my TEFL since I'd be teaching in Vietnam. The guy just kind of shook his head and said, "You're going to Vietnam? Cambodia is as close as I can come to going there." Naively I asked him why -- again, thinking he was way too young to have served -- and he said to me, "Because I spent a lot of time there awhile ago." I was shocked and blurted out, "You served in the war? You look way too young." He told me he was nearly sixty and assured me he wasn't crossing the border back into 'Nam anytime soon. The point is, he's the only Veteran I've met in six months in southeast Asia. I know there are a ton out here, but I just haven't met them.

Anyway, I'm glad that LH is reading my blog and is taking an interest in Vietnam and its people. Conversely, I've talked about the war here with many Vietnamese people, and not one has said that they or anyone in their family fought in the war.

New Face, New Place

Yesterday's post got me thinking about a post I should have written a long time ago. At some point during my first month at Language Link I was emailing with a friend of mine back in LA, and during our exchange she wrote me:

Do you know an American girl in Hanoi named Mikka Hall? I'm working with her father in Phoenix right now on a VH1 show. She moved there the same time you did. Miss you!! Elizabeth Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Well, in fact, I did know a girl named Mikka Hall. She started working that week at Language Link...and her cubbie was three down from mine:

Mikka has turned out to be one of my good friends here despite the fact that I think she's a compulsive liar. She claims to be from LA, yet thinks there's is a place here in Hanoi with a decent burrito. Mikka is pretty hilarious, but sadly I don't think she was kidding on this one.

Old Face, New Place

I mentioned a while ago about a gas station attendant who had taken a keen interest in me. Basically every time I went to this one PetroMax station near my school, I would have a case of deja vu with this man. He would start filling up my tank and say, "Where you from?" I would then say in Vietnamese, "I'm from America." He would then exclaim, "America!!!", shake my hand, and tell me I was going to be his English Teacher. Each time I went I would throw a new Vietnamese word into the mix which would always get him excited. I asked how he was one time and said goodbye another. He appreciated the effort.

Well today Huyen and I went across town to eat at one of my former student's family's restaurant. The place was pretty far on the south side of town, on a road I had never been on. On the way back from lunch I pulled into a random PetroMax station. I parked Huyen's bike next to the pump and opened up the tank when I looked up and saw a giant smiling face. It was my gas station attendant. Simultaneously we said, "Hello!" We each were extremely surprised to see each other and instinctively shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder like old Elementary School classmates. Meanwhile, Huyen realizing what was going on, started to hysterically laugh and asked, "Where's your camera?" Sadly I had forgotten it.

I think it's funny that one day I'll think back to my adventures out here in 'Nam, and the friends I've made, and this man will come to mind. We don't know each other's names and can't speak more than ten words to each other, yet we both greeted each other like long lost best friends. That's a nice feeling.

People Are The Same Everywhere

I've always believed that people are the same everywhere. My students have asked me many times, "What country has the nicest/meanest people?" I always say, "There are good people everywhere and bad people everywhere. For example, there are many kind people in Hanoi but there's also a handful of Ninjas who robbed me of everything I owned the first week I was here." Shockingly, my students actually know what Ninjas are. I think it's the 16th English word they learn.

That said, the other night, I had to rethink my belief that people are the same everywhere. About fifteen minutes after school ended, I was driving home and stopped at a red light. As I stared at the handy countdown clock (all the traffic lights countdown the seconds till they will turn green or red) I heard, "Hello, teacher!" I turned to my left and sitting on the back of a motorbike was Linh, one of my teenage students. I immediately noticed two things:
1. Linh's mother was driving her.
2. Linh wasn't wearing a helmet.

I looked at Linh and said, "Linh where is your helmet." She smiled at me and said, "It's right here." She held up her far hand, which was holding the helmet. I said, "Linh, put on your helmet!" Her mother then smiled at me and said in broken English, "It's okay. We live close." I quickly responded, "It doesn't matter. It's dangerous. Put your helmet on." Her mother quickly agreed with me (she clearly wants her to get a good grade) and made Linh put on her helmet.

As the light turned green and I rode off two thoughts struck me:

THOUGHT ONE: My mother would NEVER let me ride on the back of her motorbike (yes, this is EXTREMELY hypothetically speaking) without a helmet. So perhaps people aren't the same everywhere. But then the second thought struck me...
THOUGHT TWO: There are irresponsible parents in America too. And on top of that, there are also overly responsible/nosy parents. For example, I know one very well -- my father. As a child, whenever my father would see a kid in another car not wearing a seatbelt he used to pull up parallel to them and motion for the kid/parent to put on their seatbelt. This used to embarras the hell out of me. However, I now realize that I'm equally as overly responsible/nosy as my father.

So, yeah, my core belief is still true -- people are the same everywhere.