Christmas, sort of.

It has been nearly a month, but Christmas Day 2006 was indeed memorable so I will do my best to recount it here.

My friend Mark and I woke relatively early at our $7-a-night guesthouse in the small beach town of Mui Ne. Absent were any signs of Christmas--no tree, no lights, no presents nor stockings. Only palms, the nearby ocean, and a few nice smells coming from the adjacent restaurant which attracted us immediately. Though a far cry from my own family's Xmas morning Three Kings Bread tradition, we ate a hearty meal of beef pho, fried eggs, fresh French baguettes, and lovely coffee. Bellies full, we mounted our motorbikes and rode in to the village to check out the local market. The market was a collection of several dozen stalls, selling everything from meat and seafood to shoes, kitchenwares, toiletries, and the small plastic tables and chairs seen so often on sidewalks. The stalls mostly surrounded a central area covered by a blue and white tarpaulin, where ladies in the iconic conical (iconical perhaps?) hats sat on their haunches shoo-ing the flies off the fish they were trying to sell, eating from bowls, and jabbering spiritedly with each other. Almost no one spoke any English and all the Vietnamese seemed quite focused on commerce, but being the incredibly strange and outgoing characters that Mark and I are, we still managed to coax a few smiles and have a few laughs with several of the vendors.


After walking around for sometime, we decided to meander down one of the side alleys leading from the market area (and back to our parked bikes). We passed a small salon, where two young women and an older lady sat on the patio. We smiled and called out Xin Chao ("Hello"). They smiled back, returning a "hello" and called us over. Much obliged, we sat down on some of the tiny plastic chairs. We had exhausted our Vietnamese, and quickly discovered their English was little better, and yet between a few more smiles and pointing at things in our trusty phrasebook, we managed to begin a conversation. The young women had been snacking on fresh crab from a small pail, and immediately offered us some. In fact they even did the dirty work, removing the shell and passing us large chunks of crab meat. I don't even like crab and I must say it was delectable.When the crab was finished, out came the scallops, and when the scallops were gone, out came the fish stew and rice and before we knew it, we were having quite a wonderful Xmas lunch with three kind women whose names we could not pronounce and who we hadn't known 30 minutes before. The phrasebook was quite handy and provided much entertainment when the conversation died. We managed to teach each other some Vietnamese and English, though I do believe I forgotten nearly all of it. After the meal, the young women insisted we stay for a shampoo, head massage, and a facial. We did not quarrel. An hour and some 65 cents later, we bid our new friends goodbye, though with plans to go out for coffee later in the evening.


Feeling like kings, we shed our shirts, hopped on the motorbikes again and set off for a long afternoon ride, first along a beautiful coast road, and later just inland through terrain that was more like desert/savannah than the tropics/jungle I had expected. The sky was exceptionally blue, and the nearly empty road made for perfect conditions for cruising. After a couple hours, we stopped for a drink in a roadside cafe in a tiny village, well off the tourist beat. As we parked our bikes, a half-dozen shoeless young boys appeared, all flashing huge grins, a few of them brave enough to say "hello". As we sat down to a cold 333 beer, the 6 boys became 10 and crowded around us. They told us their names and we tried out some new words on them; I successfully communicated my age in Vietnamese, which drew some smiles. I also taught a few of them a secret handshake, of which they never tired. The final part of the handshake requires lightly punching eachothers' fists; the boys tried to prove their toughness (both to me and their cronies) by hitting my fist as hard as they could. Mark wowed them with his digital camera, which also provided seemingly endless entertainment. They appeared to me the happiest group of boys I'd ever seen.



Refreshed by a beer, a bottle of water, and about 1000 smiles, we got back on the bikes, allowing a few more final handshakes as we revved our engines and drove away. I too, felt about as happy as I could imagine, enjoying the late afternoon sun, the open road, and the tremendous vitality of Vietnamese culture. As we neared our guesthouse, we had an incredible view of the soon-to-be setting sun throwing a few of its last rays on the local fishing boats in the harbour.



Back at our guesthouse, we rested and got cleaned up. Shortly after dark, we returned to the salon to meet our new friends, whose names I couldnt pronounce in the first place and now cant remember. We'll call them Phuong and Thuy, two female names I do remember, but likely say incorrectly. Anyway, they were just closing up shop, and needed to get cleaned up themselves, so we accompanied Phuong to her family's home. Immediately we were invited inside and introduced to the rest of the family, which, besides the parents, consisted entirely of young women. While our "date" took a shower and changed clothes, Mark and I chatted with the father (a devoted Catholic who spoke a little English) and evaded politely as we could his offerings of engagement to his daughters. That is to say we accepted them with great laughter and smiles, hoping they were joking as we were! The youngest daughter, who was mute and perhaps still in her teens, seemed the keenest of the bunch and appeared ready to go anywhere with either of us. Luckily, Phuong returned quickly and within minutes, we had said goodbye, were back on the motorbikes and on our way to pick up Thuy. We had planned to just go for coffee but we were all quite hungry and decided on dinner instead. Phuong and Thuy directed us to a nice restaurant, with a 2nd floor that was rather like a posh treehouse. The waiter spoke some English and helped translate for bit, before disappearing to the kitchen to relay our order. While waiting for our food, the language barrier became more evident, and our conversation all but dried up. A phrasebook can only take you so far, we discovered. Yet, we still managed to have a few laughs and our feast orders of goat, crocodile, and seafood stew arrived shortly thereafter, to which we turned our attention. The croc was quite nice, though the flesh was quite fatty. The goat was absolutely delicious, though very very tough. The seafood stew, with scallops and shrimp and greens all cooked in a nice broth and ladled over "bun" (rice noodle vermicelli) was outstanding. Mark and I ate and ate and ate, and when we thought it was gone, they brought us more noodles and more seafood, though the latter we declined, for fear of bursting our bellies. It all made for a fabulous and most unique Xmas dinner.

Bill paid, we returned Phoung and Thuy to their respective homes, and then drove back to the more touristy part of town in search of nightlife, which is a story altogther itself.

Street Walker

The first time one goes out for a walk in Saigon, or perhaps on any street in Vietnam, is a test of courage. The sidewalks are always full, not just full of people like New York City movie scenes, but full of bikes, vendors, tables, chairs, etc. One oft has to step into the street to go around something. The traffic is constant; there are few traffic lights and zero pedestrian crossing signals telling when to walk and when to stop.

The first time I approached a crosswalk, I was quite unsure as to how I would make it across. A never ending stream of motorbikes blocked my way. I considered my options: keep making right turns and walk around the same block until I tire or, make a mad dash through the traffic, testing my speed and agility. I was leaning towards the latter, when a Vietnamese man walked past me, stepped into the street without looking right or left, and proceed to cross slowly, though without stopping or hesitating even once. I watched somewhat perplexed as another young woman on the other side crossed quite similarly. There must be something to this I thought, and decided to give it a go. As I stepped down from the sidewalk, I couldnt help but look right and left, though keeping my feet moving. I walked straight and at a normal pace, and watched in awe as bikes glided by on either side. The drivers didn't slow, but neither did they cut me off or infringe upon my walking space. Everyone seemed to have a great sense of spacial awareness and anticipation.



The more I walked, the more comfortable I became. One learns to walk deliberately, and trust that the other moving vehicles in the vicinity are aware of him/her. I found that stopping in the middle of the street, to let a bus or pack of motorbikes go by, was perfectly safe. Hestitation, however, was dangerous. If the other drivers don't know what you are doing, then they can't adjust. Go, or stop, but do nothing in between. I actually thought it was easier to jaywalk than to use the crosswalks, because the traffic was not so bunched, and therefore more easily navigated.

By the end of the trip, I had learned how to walk as if the traffic wasn't there at all.

Photo courtesy of Mark Barr.

Good photos, randomly

"Uncle" Ho


From the coast road at Mui Ne, Dusk


The red dunes at Mui Ne, Sunset


Great Shirt


On the hydrofoil from Vung Tau to Saigon, feeling cool

Kids

These photos need very little in the way of captions. Vietnamese kids were incredibly cute, and most were also wonderfully not shy. The first two are my favorite photos from the trip.

Eats

It wouldn't be hard to say that Vietnamese food is my favorite cuisine. Every bite contains an explosion of flavors. Not only did I not have a single bad meal, I had very few things that weren't special. Its hard to pick my favorite, so I'll just write a long list of dishes and flavors:



Bowls of "pho"/"bun", both kinds of rice noodles served in soups with meat/seafood/veggies/cilantro. From a street stall or a restaurant where locals eat, a large bowl goes for about $0.60.

Lemongrass & chili. I had this sauce on chicken (perhaps 5 times?), beef, and squid. Absolutely fantastic. Fireworks in the mouth.

Beef, and lots of it. Living in Japan, I rarely eat beef, even though it is my favorite flesh, mostly because it is quite expensive. Thus, I was overjoyed to see wonderful and cheap beef dishes on every menu in every restaurant. I ate beef at least once a day while I was in Vietnam. Yum.

Vietnamese sandwiches. Served by street vendors, 8-10" fresh French baguettes are sliced and stuffed with unidentifiable pork meats, sliced cucumbers, onions/peppers, sometimes cheese, cilantro, and sprinkled with hot sauce and/or MSG infused black pepper. At 30 cents a pop, they make for a quick and easy breakfast or lunch, and even better bus stop or late night snacks.

Ginger. Another one of my favorite flavors. Used liberally in a lot of dishes.

Thai/Asian basil. Ditto. Especially good in the bowls of noodles.

Fresh spring rolls. Bigger and better than the fried kind, of which we also ate plenty. The best fresh ones we had were from a streetside vendor, stuffed with leeks, rice noodles, fresh shrimp, pork, thai basil, and cilantro.



Asian greens. Bok choy, kang kong, and others I don't know the name of are good in anything.

Fish Sauce. Smells putrid, especially when you pass through a town with a factory that makes this stuff. But, it tastes quite nice on white rice with a few hot peppers for added zing.

Fruit. You can't beat dirt-cheap tropical fruit, especially lychees (the best I've had), mangoes, guanabana/soursop, pineapple, and dragonfruit.

Finally, rice. I've been spoiled on Japanese rice, which must be the best in the world, but Viet rice was still wonderful and the best thing to soak up the rest of the flavors.

Any culture that bases every meal around rice, noodles, and fresh bread gets 5 stars from me.

Caphé

The first morning in Saigon, I met Qué from Eden Cafe, who had promised to show me around with her sister. About a half-hour into the "tour" we stopped for coffee at Trung Nguyen Cafe and ended up talking most of the morning, rather than looking around. Trung Nguyen , it seems, is a sort-of Vietnamese Starbucks, and the #1 preferred coffee brand of the Vietnamese. According to my Lonely Planet, Trung Nguyen serves "chon", coffee beans fed to weasels and then later collected from their excrement for brewing. True or not, it was the best coffee I drank in Vietnam.

That said, all the coffee I drank in Vietnam was outstanding. The Vietnamese, as do I, like their coffee ridiculously strong. I never saw it brewed in a pot, they usually bring a small metal filter (like a mini-French Press) right to your table, and its always served in glasses rather than cups. I liked to watch the sludge drip from the filter into the small glass, it reminded me of an oil leak from a car engine. The preferred way to drink it is on ice with a healthy dose of condensed milk. Delicious during the hot part of the afternoon, but in the morning I liked to drink it hot and black. Like a quadruple espresso but without any bitterness, and just the slightest bit sweet.

On any sidewalk at any time of day, you can see men, and sometimes women, sitting on small plastic chairs around a small plastic table drinking ice coffees. Sometimes they are just chatting and sometimes they are huddled around a gameboard that I believe is Chinese Chess. It reminded me of Panama a bit, to watch people take an extended coffee break in the afternoon, or even in the morning, to enjoy the day and the company of friends.

A note about language...

Knowing absolutely nothing about Vietnamese before leaving, I was slightly anxious as to how I was going to communicate with folks. Though I still struggle with Japanese, I have learned enough to get where I'm going, get what I need, and make small talk with folks. Going to Vietnam was erasing all that, and starting over with something completely different.

I needn't have worried, plenty of Vietnamese speak English, or at least enough to help tourists with money. "Where you go?" was the question I heard most I think. With the exception of one town in the Mekong, everywhere we went we found at least a few folks who spoke English quite well, and plenty of those who had some capability with the language. So communication was not a problem at all, and became a source of great amusement.

Vietnamese, at first glance, seems reasonable enough. At least it uses the Roman alphabet, right? But, looking in my new phrasebook, I discovered Vietnamese has 6 tones. Each spelling in Vietnamese has only one syllable, but can be pronounced 6 different ways (marked by accents above or below the vowel), each with a different meaning. To steal an example from the phrasebook, the syllable "ma", depending on the tone/mark can mean: ghost, cheek, but, rice seedling, tomb, or horse. So despite attempts to learn some handy phrases like "Where's the bathroom?" and "Can I have the check please?", I found it impossible to pronounce anything correctly. A Vietnamese could repeat something 10 times, and I would say it 10 different ways, all incorrect. It was much easier just to find what I was looking for and point to it, rather than butchering the pronunciation and risk saying something silly like "I would like to rent a tomb for the afternoon".



Yet, over the course of a couple weeks, we (Aaron and I) did manage to learn a few essentials like: Good morning, hello, thank you, No thank you (perhaps the most useful), how much?, too expensive, moustache, beautiful young woman, I am handsome man, and our three favorites, "Oh My God!" "Liar" and "You are a BIG liar / Bullshit!". We threw these out with great frequency, and were rewarded almost everytime with surprised laughter from the Vietnamese. Used with some simple gestures, you'd be surprised how far you can get with just a dozen or so words.

I will have more to say on both English and Vietnamese in further posts, but wanted to give a brief introduction to show how much I don't know. In further posts, I will incorrectly write all Vietnamese words without the accent marks because 1) I don't understand them, and 2) I can't figure out how to type them all on my laptop.