Monday, November 26, 2012

Post Thanksgiving

It hits me in waves that I live here.  One minute, this all feels perfectly normal, another minute, I find myself (sometimes literally) stopped dead in my tracks wondering how the heck I got here. 
Very, very sad.
It’s strange, because now, all of the things I feel were holding me back from feeling like I “really live here” have been completed.  I have signed a lease for my apartment for a year with the option to stay until 2014, have a bank account, have started making friends, and really feel like I’ve settled into my life here.  Of course, to most Hong Kongers, I’m still the newbie, but I don’t feel new anymore for the most part. 
After the craziness of Thanksgiving, which I can say was the saddest day I can remember having in quite some time, things had to look up.  One of my definite highlights of the past week was going to the apartment of my sweet friend and fellow lover of Downton Abbey, Katie, to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and eat pancakes on Friday morning.  We have a standing date on Thursdays to watch Downton Abbey together, but since it is now sadly finished for the season, we have concocted other reasons to hang out, which I love, because she is awesome. 

But things got better after the parade.
If you have read any of my previous posts, you will know that the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade is an integral part of my Thanksgiving experience each year, much to the chagrin of my friends and family members. I truly can’t get going on Thanksgiving Day unless I watch the parade, so imagine my delight when I found out that Katie also loves the parade.  I recorded it on Sara’s DVR, we hooked up their TV to my laptop and were able to watch it via Slingbox.  That moment was worth the $99 I paid for my Slingbox prior to leaving the US.  Neither one of us was in a great mood when I arrived, but by the time the parade was over and Santa had arrived, our spirits were both on the up and up.  One thing I love about living in Hong Kong is the sheer number of other people who are in the exact same boat as me (and can commiserate).   
Crazy amazing spread at Thanksgiving dinner #3
This weekend was perhaps one of the best that I’ve had since arriving in Hong Kong.  On Saturday night, we were invited to a Thanksgiving Dinner at one of our church member’s houses.  I thought, okay, hey, just another Thanksgiving dinner, right?  No.  Not at all, in fact.  This was a Thanksgiving FEAST in a way that I have scarcely experienced in my lifetime (and every single person in my family cooks for Thanksgiving, so that is saying something).  And, there were probably 50 people there.  Or more.  It was actually an insanely joyful time.  It felt the most like my family’s Thanksgiving out of any of the ones I attended, probably because there were a million people around and I knew everyone there quite well.
And yes, I did a lot of eating
I will take a moment as an aside to say that I truly love our church members.  The parents of the students in our program are top notch in every way. They are truly good, generous, amazing people and I am so blessed by them.  Many people encouraged me to take pictures of the food to send to my parents “just so they knew I was being taken care of”, took time to sit and chat with me, ask how I’m settling in, and at the end of the night, one family detoured 15 minutes out of their way to drop me off at my apartment, though I could have walked from their house.  So, mom, know that I’m being taken care of!
Causeway Bay from Lawrence's roof





And finally, on Sunday night, on a very impromptu decision, I headed over to Causeway Bay (one metro stop away from me) to hang out with some friends from the Young Adult ministry I attend.  I was very happy when I arrived and found three of my most favorite people waiting.  Daniel, Lawrence and Kenny are all solid guys – guys who love Jesus and are just a lot of fun to hang out with.  A couple of our other friends were in and out during the night, but for the majority of the time, it was the four of us.  The night went by so quickly – before I knew it, the boys had attempted to teach me Texas Hold Em, we watched Looper, talked about everything from economics to New Zealand, watched a snowboarding documentary, and concluded with a visit to Lawrence’s rooftop.  As Kenny and I walked back to Wan Chai, I realized that I have been craving those kind of nights here.  Hong Kong is busy and crazy and I often come home from work , eat and go to sleep, literally, and repeat for days on end.  And it’s crazy!  I need to take more time to hang out and get to know people better here.
Last but not least, It’s Christmas here.  Even the grocery store is has changed from its normal music to Christmas music.  AND the happiest thing I have to report is that it is COOL here.  I woke up today, saw that it was 62 degrees outside and did a little jig in my room.  I can truly say that the weather here is the one and only thing that consistently bums me out, so this new turn in the temperatures really has me happy.  It is overcast and gray, which also reminds me of Denmark, so it’s a win-win.  I hear tomorrow we’ll even be in the fifties! I might not know what to do with myself.

-Til next time,
The Adventurer

Chinglish o' the day

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thanksgiving in Hong Kong

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Thanksgiving foods. Nom

Jack Daniels Sweet Potatoes

On Saturday, I was invited to my boss’ house for a Thanksgiving celebration.  There was a mix of Americans and other people, so I volunteered to cook a few things.  I knew I wanted to make my mom’s famous Jack Daniels sweet potatoes, and I also volunteered to make green bean casserole and mashed potatoes.  So off the grocery store I went.  One of the biggest joys for me has been discovering my local grocery store that has had every single thing I have wanted or needed so far, and this trip didn’t disappoint.  (They even had fried onions for the casserole!)

The shunned non-traditional purple potato



After loading up my backpack and two bags, I headed home and cooked up a storm while watching a holiday classic and one of my all time favorites, The Family Stone.  I was in an extremely chipper mood, thinking that literally nothing could go wrong when I started to peel the “Taiwanese Sweet Potatoes” I had bought.  And they were purple inside.  Not even kidding.  As I had no idea how these were going to taste, not to mention, it felt darn near unpatriotic to serve a purple sweet potato, I did the mad dash (with wet hair as I had literally just gotten out of the shower prior to this incident) back to the grocery store for “real” sweet potatoes (read: orange).  

Our oven.  The size of a casserole dish.


By this point, it was 4:00pm, I still had to boil the potatoes for the mashed potatoes, cook the green bean casserole and the sweet potatoes in our tiny, tiny convection oven.  Did I mention that we only have two burners?  At one point not long after this, I had sweet and regular potatoes on the stove, a pan on top of the convection oven sucking some peripheral heat from the oven to melt butter, and green beans in the oven.  It was true insanity.  And I was supposed to be at the dinner at 5:00pm with a minimum 45 minute transit time.  Was I late?  You betcha, but my food was delicious.  I finally made it, and it was truly a great celebration.  We even got to introduce some of our group to Thanksgiving for the first time, which was really cool. 
Friends and kids at Thanksgiving.  It was perfect.

Grocery store haul
 Now, for the second piece of insanity, my roomates and I decided to throw a Thanksgiving dinner for about 10 people on Monday night because we were all busy later in the week.  Since I have Mondays off, I volunteered to do most of the cooking.  And I. Was. Excited.  I had a repeat of my grocery outing, returned home feeling pretty confident, with even more dishes to make this time, including two whole chickens. I prepped most of the things I could and took a short nap because I wasn’t feeling 100% and I wanted to be 100% for this event.  I woke up, started prepping and cooking, and discovered that our building had no water.  Whatsoever.  Not for the toilet, not for the sink, not in the shower.  Luckily, I was tipped off by a poster in our lobby which had one of 5 Chinese characters I can actually read in traditional characters (water, if you’re curious) on the poster with a date next to it.  I asked our doorman who also thankfully speaks Mandarin if we were going to be without water, and he said that he thought we might at some point in the day, but wasn’t sure.   That morning before I went shopping, I had cleaned and filled my trashcan with water for dishwashing in case it got dire, but my roommate Rachel assured me that when this had happened in the past, it was only the toilet that didn’t work.
Catastrophe one. 
It wasn’t horribly catastrophic, really, just insanely inconvenient.  So I washed dishes by scooping water out of the bucket one cup at a time.  And started to feel more tired and aggravated as the day went on.  Finally, after doing just about everything I could do without water, I laid down for another nap, because I just couldn’t shake my tired feeling. 
When I woke up at 6:00 to put the Chickens in the oven, thankfully, the water was back on.  By this time, it became apparent to me that something was absolutely not okay as I was getting that swimming feeling you get right prior to vomiting.  I told myself that I had no time for that, downed some pepto, and asked my roommate Julie to handle the mashed potatoes while I got in the shower.  Try as I did, pepto downed and all, I did end up throwing up about 30 minutes before our guests were supposed to arrive.  Surprisingly, it made me feel better and I resolved to soldier on through the meal. 
Some of our guests
The food was actually just fine, everything worked out okay for the most part and everyone seemed truly happy and grateful for the meal.  I really didn’t each much besides saltine crackers and water.  I held it together for the better part of three hours, but at the end of the night, I eventually realized that I had two options.  1) Vomit in our very small bathroom that is immediately adjacent to our dining area, thus exposing everyone to the sound or 2) lay down immediately.  I chose option two, totally shunning the person I had invited and hoping that my roomates would take care of him (they did, thank goodness).  Just a few minutes after everyone cleared out, I was sick again. 
And again for approximately the next 6 hours.
Not the most fun way to spend the week, but sometimes, there aren’t a lot of options! Thankfully it passed quickly and I’m feeling more or less back to normal now.
So what about actual Thanksgiving, you say?  
 I will be totally honest here.  Most days, I truly love my Hong Kong life.  Things here are pretty sweet on a day-to-day basis, and I get to do something I LOVE, which not a lot of people can say.  People talked to me about how moving abroad would be “such a sacrifice” before I moved, and for the last few months, I have truly not understood it.  Sacrifice?  Nah. 
But today, I woke up on Thanksgiving and I felt the sacrifice of being here.  I woke up and immediately thought of all the things my family was doing in the US without me, how they will gather together and celebrate traditions that I LOVE and that I will not be there with them.  And for the first time, I was deeply, gut-wrenchingly homesick.  Heartsick, even.  I had the opposite of a grateful attitude.  Isn’t it funny that I felt the least thankful on a day devoted to Thankfulness?  Believe me, the irony was not lost on me.
I got up, got dressed, iMessaged with Sara (my best friend/cousin for those of you who are new to my blog) and generally felt sorry for myself.   I trudged towards work, into my Starbucks where I ordered my coffee and wiped the sweat from my forehead because it was an un-holiday-like 85 degrees here today.  After getting to the office and getting some work done, I skyped with some of my family who were gathered together for Thanksgiving at my grandma’s house in Austin (where I would be at this very moment had I not made this move to Hong Kong).
Everything was Jim-dandy until the VERY end of the conversation where Sara informed me that in the morning it’d be okay because she’d go to Starbucks, get a paper, pull out the ads and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and think of me (note: we’d be doing these together, except the Thanksgiving Parade which she loathes).  Which sent me into a full-on crying spell right as my boss knocked on my office door to let me know that he was ready to go to the community wide Thanksgiving service.  I fanned myself, begged off the Skype call, and we headed out. 



Things looked up at the Thanksgiving service, because mercifully, I had something to distract myself with in that I was conscripted into the service of St. John’s Anglican Church handing out bulletins and doing the offering.  I can say that it was a strange service because I have actually never attended any type of Thanksgiving service in the US.  This service was really beautifully put together and included a lot of pomp and circumstance with important people in robes (my boss being one of them, note: I’ve never seen him in a robe in my life) processing down the aisle.  This hearkened back to some of my childhood memories (and college ones, too) working in and attending churches that were more traditional.  The service was full of hymns and even a chorus of America the Beautiful.  Now that I think of it, they sang all three verses of America the Beautiful.  I wasn’t even aware there was more than one verse, so shame on me. 

Self-explanatory though didn't taste like pumpkin...
 After eating some American Thanksgiving foods and going to another meeting where I barely held it together, I returned to my office in a bit of an emotional stupor where I discovered a beautiful flower arrangement from my dad.  Then I sobbed.  This is what happens when you don’t cry often, because when you start, you just can’t stop! Every year my dad buys my mom and I and whatever ladies happen to be around flowers.  It’s become a big covert operation on his part – he always sneaks out unnoticed and returns with flowers in hand.  It’s very sweet and is just one thing that I knew I’d miss today.  And he made my day, my month, by his thoughtful gift. 
 











And then I realized something.  I am incredibly blessed.  And it is a sacrifice to live here.  This is my life, and it is beautiful and amazing 99% of the time, but sometimes, it’s neither.  Does that make me any less grateful?  You bet not.  I live a life of adventure, of opportunity, that many would dream of.  Who am I to complain? 
Thanksgiving dinner date (friend and co-Director Julie)
And as for tonight, Thanksgiving evening in Hong Kong, I shared a meal of Tapas that I did not cook with a great friend, talked about things that are truly important, and felt more full and thankful than I have in a long time.  So wherever you are on this Thanksgiving, I hope that you’ll give your loved ones an extra squeeze, or call your crazy friend or family member who is living abroad and give them some extra love, too.  Because we all have a lot to be thankful for. 







Saturday, November 10, 2012

Vietnam II


After the passport debacle, we made it onto the plane and safely landed in Phu Quoc.  Flying in over the island was completely surreal – like seeing something out of a movie.  The beaches were white, the water was clear and blue, and I could not have been more excited.  The place we were staying, Freedomland, had arranged for a driver to pick us up from the airport (again, because of rampant scamming of tourists), but I wasn’t sure if they had received my panicky and very last minute email letting them know we would be arriving on a later flight.


Fortunately, we landed and a very nice Vietnamese guy had a sign with our names on it right as we exited the gate.  It was really nice to not have to worry about that detail.  As we drove through Duong Dong town (the largest city on Phu Quoc), the reality of what life is like for probably the vast majority of Vietnamese people dawned on me.  They live quite poorly.  Along one stretch of road, there were lots of shops in a row, many with trash heaped outside their entrances, the boundary between dirt outside and tile inside blurred over time, and so many people, including tons of kids. I would later learn from the owner of our hotel that many kids on Phu Quoc don’t go to school at all, and that many that do don’t even finish middle school.  He told me that when he hires new staff, he almost always has to train them how to think, because for most of them, education is something that just wasn’t achievable. 


We took a turn at one point onto a dirt road (I’d later learn that 99% of the roads on Phu Quoc are like this) and bumped along for at least 15 minutes past people on motorbikes, bicycles, and on foot.  The red clay stuck to absolutely everything, and as we were there on the tail end of the rainy season, everything was still fairly muddy.  We emerged onto a two-lane road, only to turn down another nondescript dirt/rock/mud road about a mile later.  At one point, our taxi simply stopped in front of a random house in the middle of a jungle.  And he rolled down the windows and waited.  A couple of little kids in the house came out and stared at us curiously, barraging the driver with questions.  He kept gesturing at us, so I assume the questions had something to do with us.  This is when I wish I spoke some Vietnamese. But, at the end of the day, a smile is the shortest distance between two people, so I did that.





  A few minutes later, a couple of girls came walking up, hefted Lillian’s suitcase from the trunk and led us down another dirt road.  I was seriously worried at this point that we’d been led into some random jungle, only to have our story turn into something that would be featured on some travel safety PSA years down the road, but just as true panic was setting in, we saw the Freedomland sign.  And I knew all was good.  We were greeted by Peter and Rita, the owner/operators, shown around and led to our bungalow. 
I can say that I have never been super tolerant of bugs and being hot, so I was slightly concerned about how this experience would be considering 1) there was no air conditioning, and 2) the “bungalow” was open air in places letting in just about anything that wanted to come in.  A mosquito net was provided, so sleeping would at least not be a problem.  (And I can say after being there that it was not a problem at all). We settled in and decided to visit the local beach.  Fortunately, they had bikes that we could borrow, and we did, bumping up another clay road to a freshly paved road that seemed to lead nowhere.  It was one of the more amazing beaches I’ve been to in recent times, and we soaked it in (literally.)  
 That evening, we attended one of Freedomland’s famous community dinners where we were served a 5-course meal.  It was absolutely incredible.  We got to know Peter and Rita better, and apparently, Peter, who is Vietnamese, has always loved to cook and has learned lots of different techniques from living all over the world.  The food was on par with some of the nicest restaurants I have ever been to, and the dishes were all prepared in a quite rudimentary kitchen with only two burners.  Dish after dish blew me away. 

Thursday, November 08, 2012

Interruption

My room from living area
I had planned on finishing part two of my Vietnam blog post, but I a LOT of important things happened this week, so I thought I'd take a brief interruption in your regularly scheduled programming to introduce you to my new apartment!

 I moved in to my apartment on Monday, and can say that although I was excited, I was also dreading yet another transition.  Though I knew my arrangement at my host family's house was temporary, I still became attached to it.  It was incredibly sad to pack nearly everything I own for the second time in just a few short months and head off into something unknown. But, the good news is that I do love my new flat, it is incredibly convenient to anything I could need, and it is really, really affordable.  Yes, it is above a strip club, yes, the bass from the club is ever-present from about 10pm onward, but all in all, I really like it.  It is renovated, has two bathrooms, and affords nice natural light in my room.  It pretty much met all of the requirements I had for a place, and I am doubly blessed to be living with two other Christian girls.

Bed/Desk are built in














Thankfully, Hong Kong has an IKEA.  New bedding!

Taken from standing on my bed

View out my window.  Our kitchen window on the right

View from the front door

Bathroom

Kitchen in an open floor plan.  Really rare for HK

View from my roommates end of the living room
Okay.  So I know what you're thinking...
Isn't that room a bit tiny?  I mean, that's smaller than my closet in the US.


And the answer is that yes, my room is small, and is in fact smaller than my best friend and former roommate's closet in Houston.  But the reality is that when you cram millions of people into a very small area, you end up with a lot of small apartments, and especially small ones if you want them to be affordable.  So I'm living in my cozy room which I will no doubt decorate with all of my pictures and mementos from Houston that I brought with me as I make more trips to IKEA for big things like a bulletin board, bookshelf, etc.  Because when you don't have a car, you don't want to bring more than you can comfortably carry.  This is a lesson I learned the other day while carrying a duvet cover, comforter, two pillows, two towels, a laundry hamper, 30 hangers and bedsheets through the Hong Kong MTR (metro).  And let me say, that it was far from comfortable.

In any case, this neighborhood for all its quirks is starting to feel like home.  And today, I even found a grocery store.  It is amazing to me how much these small rituals matter.  I can be honest and say that I cried a little bit on the chip aisle.  Not because I was sad, but rather overwhelmed.  Shopping in Denmark was always a traumatic experience, especially at first, because none of the labels were in English. Whatsoever.  So when I spoke no Danish, it was a total nightmare (now that I think of it, probably a reason I learned Danish quickly).   I digress.  But here, blessedly, everything was in English at the grocery store.  It was one of the first things I've done here in Hong Kong that has been easier than expected.  And I was so overcome by the availability of Kraft Parmesan Cheese and Tilamook Cheddar and whole wheat bread and Jazz apples that I just had to shed a little tear.  On the chip aisle.  Which isn't actually called the chip aisle, rather the "crisp aisle".   When I got home and cooked my mom's Parmesan baked chicken with some mashed potatoes, I felt for a moment like I was at home.  And it was a VERY good feeling.  It's funny how these small things can make such a big difference.

I love these people!  Co-Director Julie and boss Wade

Another big event that happened this week was the election.  Believe it or not, the election and all its related fanfare made its way all the way to Hong Kong.  It was actually really cool being awake as
There are two Republicans in there somewhere
the results rolled in.  I definitely never made very much of an effort to stay awake for results in the US, but here it was inevitable.  My boss, Wade, even took my co-worker Julie and I over to the American Chamber of Commerce election watching party at one of the highrises here in Hong Kong.  It was CRAZY times!

As we arrived, we got to select our party affiliation buttons, and were treated to cheddar and caramel popcorn, Starbucks, and more TVs with CNN on than I could count.  I made my way over to the Starbucks counter and thanked the Chinese barista who excitedly told me that she felt very lucky to be working the Amcham event.  Apparently they fought over who got to go.  It made me realize that much more how American politics and our decisions really do interest and impact the rest of the world.

We were there at a particularly exciting time as CNN was beginning to project states for the different candidates.  I will say that in both my experience here and in Denmark that expats tend to be Democrats.  I don't know if it has something to do with the type of personality required to live abroad, or the worldview provided by having an international experience, but nonetheless, that's the
Calling it for Obama
fact.  So, every time Obama would win a state, there would be a raucous cheer, and each time Romney won, one or two lone enthusiasts would clap excitedly.  It was actually pretty funny to observe.  We were going to leave, but for some reason hung around and were there to hear CNN call the election for Obama.  The energy in the room was crazy with people high-fiving each other and merriment all around.  (Except the two Republicans, of course).





Anyway, this week has been really exciting and new and overwhelming, but I am starting to feel more and more like I actually live here instead of just being on an extended holiday where I happen to go to work.  It's a good feeling.

Til next time,

The Adventurer

Monday, October 29, 2012

Vietnam 1






This is called Vietnam 1 because I'm very sure that I will not be able to fit everything I want to say into one blog post.  First, let me say that I write this blog post almost guiltily.  I remember so vividly living in Phoenix and nannying for a family one summer.  They were young and cool, and I loved the wife.  They were also doubly cool in my eyes because there were abundant pictures of them traveling throughout Southeast Asia.  I can remember talking with her about this with a longing in my voice.  I remember asking her how this kind of life was possible.  (It turns out her dad was high up in a corporation based in Jakarta and that she and her new husband moved out to SE Asia for a year and based out of her parents' house while traveling and occasionally working).  I came to a realization at that moment that my life would probably never be as awesome as hers and went on with my life.

So I realize now, more than ever, that the life I lead is one that people can only dream about.  I don't say this in a bragging way, but conversely, in a blessed way.  It hit me during my trip that even a few short months ago, I didn't even have a dream of vising Asia, much less moving here.  Vietnam seemed as far away a palace as any.  But, here I am, and I'm constantly blown away at this opportunity, and cognizant that not everyone has the opportunities afforded me.

Okay.  Onto the details!  I'll try to put as much of our itinerary in so that if you ever get inspired to visit Vietnam, you can see what we did.

First and foremost, we didn't decide to book this trip until about 2 weeks before we were supposed to leave, so the flights there were a bit more expensive than they would probably have been otherwise, but still reasonable (comparable to a round trip flight in the US).  The flights we selected were about $50USD cheaper than the next cheapest option, but that left us leaving at truly heinous times of the day and night.  United Airlines was far and away the cheapest, so I booked a flight leaving Hong Kong at 10:50pm.  My friend Lillian had left the day before because she wanted to join the Ho Chi Minh swing dancing group that met on Sunday nights, and I needed to stay for church on Sunday.  But we'll get to that later.

Arriving at the airport, nothing made me feel like more of a rockstar than to used my newly acquired Hong Kong ID to breeze through immigration.  It is truly a wonder to me why other Western countries (hello, US) haven't implemented a procedure like this.  Possibly because lots of people don't ever travel outside the US?  In any case, instead of waiting in the lines with everyone who is not a HK resident, you get to bypass and head to the HK resident counter.  Where they scan your ID and send you on your merry way.  No passport, no stamping, no fuss.  So I was happy to take advantage of this!

After making my way to my gate, buying a coffee, and finally boarding, I finally got excited!  It hadn't felt like I was really leaving up until I boarded.  Arriving on the plane, blanket and pillow in hand, I expected to sleep the whole way.  That is until... announcement one letting us know that due to mechanical problems we were delayed "10-15 minutes".  Let me tell you that if an airline tells you this, they're probably lying.  Around an hour and a half later, we finally left the gate, "mechanical problems" all sorted out.  Instead of arriving in HCMC at 12:30, we now arrived at 1:30am.  This was by far the most terrifying part of the trip for me, really because I didn't know what to expect.

We had read on lots of blogs about the rampant scamming of tourists, specifically in taxis.  Either they would get way overcharged, the taxi would claim that the hotel they had booked had recently burned down and try and take them to another hotel, or they would drive off with your luggage in the back.  So obviously, this made me nervous, being a single female arriving in the middle of the night.  We had been advised to take Vinasun or Mai Linh taxis as they were much more reputable, and advised further to buy a taxi ticket inside the arrival hall in order to make sure we weren't cheated.  Because it was so late, however, the taxi office was closed, so I emerged into a feeding frenzy of taxis trying to get people inside.  I was probably asked 100 times if I needed a taxi, where was I going, etc.  I headed down to the end of the taxi stand where a cluster of Vinasun taxis were and was finally able to get a taxi.

Fortunately, the owner of the hostel we were staying at gave us printed directions in Vietnamese to give to the driver, down to where exactly to drop us off and the number to call when we got there so she could come and get us.  This really was above and beyond, and set my mind at ease.  It was crazy going through HCMC in the middle of the night, exhausted and having no idea whether the driver was taking me to my hostel or to the middle of nowhere.  But it turned out alright.  When we arrived at the place, he claimed his phone didn't work (though in the printed directions it said I'd pay him 10,000 Vietnamese Dong for making the call).  Finally his phone worked and out came the daughter of the hostel owner.  It is a good thing she picked me up, because I would never have found the place.

Long Hostel is not anything fancy, but at almost 3:00am, I had never been happier to see something!  Ms. Long's daughter walked me up to our first floor room, and after some knocking, Lillian woke up and let me in.  I pretty much crashed after that!  the next morning, we awoke to a great breakfast.  And I had my first Vietnamese coffee.  And then the heavens opened up.  Okay, kidding, but I loved loved loved it.  I'm pretty sure I drank about a gallon of Vietnamese coffee on this trip.

We started off our day by taking a city bus that cost us an impressive 4,000VND (Vietnamese Dong).  The equivalent of this in USD is about 20 cents, so it was insanely cheap.  We had almost no idea where we were going, except to visit the area around Reunification Palace.  After about 30 minutes on the bus, we realized that we had really no idea where to get off, or what landmarks to look for.  So Lillian approached the driver with our map in hand.  All he said was "20 minutes", so we waited.  One of the strangest things about being in Vietnam is the lack of English speakers.  I think it's probably the least English speaking place I've ever been, but the difference is really noticeable in the little things.  Even in areas I've traveled where peoples' English was limited, at least there was some minimum of communication.  But here it was pretty much all gesturing and pointing.  Please don't take this as a complaint - you probably wouldn't find a stronger advocate for learning languages than me - just a simple observation.  And my Vietnamese doesn't exist.  In fact, I can say one thing in Vietnamese and that is Beef Noodles.  So, also not incredibly useful. 

The other thing about Vietnam that really stuck out to me right away is the craziness of it all.  Ho Chi Minh city is the largest city in Vietnam, and the density and pace of things blew me away.  Literally right before leaving, the wife of the family I'm staying with in HK told me about her experience crossing the street.  As I stood unbelieving, she told me that crosswalks, traffic lights, etc, were mere suggestions and that if I wanted to cross the street, I should just walk out into oncoming traffic with a steady measured step, and that that the cars and motorbikes would simply go around me.  Don't stop under any circumstances, even if it looks like you're going to get careened into, she said.  Right, I thought, I'll tuck that away in my mind and see how it really is.  But how right she was.  That was the precise method for crossing the street and it is strange, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.  People truly will go all around you.  On more than one occasion, seeing a motorbike flying towards me, I wanted to stop, but I pressed on and safely made it to the other side!


 One of the other surprises of HCMC is that road markings seem to only be a suggestion.  And there is a pecking order.  Basically, whoever is biggest gets to go first.  So being in a bus was actually quite a safe time.  I saw motorbikes driving on the sidewalk, cars taking their lane out of the middle of two lanes, and bicyclists just trying to make it in the midst of the din.



Another crazy thing I noticed is that people will literally load down their motorbikes to a level that I couldn't even believe.  I have absolutely no idea how this guy was operating his bike!  Look at that! It's like the entire produce section of HEB crammed onto a motorbike.  While I was seriously questioning this guy's judgement, I as also internally applauding him.  I guess when a motorbike is your method of transportation, you make it work.  I also saw 5 people crammed on a bike - 3 adults and two kids, but wasn't fast enough to get a picture.  The sad part of that was that most of the kids don't wear helmets.  The adults cover themselves head to toe to avoid sun exposure, and wear facemasks in most cases, but the kids don't, for the most part, wear helmets.  I saw on several occasions tiny tots clinging to mom or dad, or standing between the legs of their parents as they zipped through traffic.  I can imagine that lots of tragic accidents happen this way.  I did find a picture from this website: http://ferenc.biz/570-motorbikes-traffic-air-pollution-pictures-saigon-vietnam.html.  This guy has a lot of pictures that really do capture the craziness of HCMC.

 After finally finding our stop, eating at a disappointingly mediocre place for lunch, and walking around some more, we finally found our way to Reunification Palace.  This was the site of the South Vietnamese government, and was the place where the South Vietnamese President surrendered to the North.  It was interesting to see the history of the building, and to see that strangely, all of the furnishings from the 60's and 70's were all still in use, despite this place being an actual site for events and meetings as well as a museum.  The personal highlight for me was the rousing video at the end of our tour that used the world "American Imperialists" about 4,237 times.  It is always the case that views on things are different.



I did find it very interesting and strangely sobering to be in Vietnam knowing our history there.  Somehow, knowing that almost 60,000 US Soldiers died there made the trip take on a new spin.  It is of course hard to imagine what things would have been like almost 40 years ago in Vietnam, especially spending the majority of our time in the city.  But the history is definitely under the surface.  It was strange to see Ho Chi Minh everywhere - from statues to currency to pictures in peoples' living rooms.  He is everywhere.  There is undoubtedly a huge cult of personality going on there, and I've read that it is illegal to write anything negative about him.  Many families apparently also worship him as a God-like entity.  We did get into a more lengthy conversation with some people at our Bungalow in Phu Quoc, but I'll save that for later...




After an afternoon of sightseeing, we decided to take a little break and pop into a coffee shop for some spring rolls and what else, Vietnamese Coffee.  We were both pretty tired, since I had only had a few hours sleep, and had awoken Lillian in the middle of the night with my entry, so we decided to head back to our hostel.  We took some time to relax, and then started looking for a dinner place. Lillian really wanted  French food, so finding one close to the hostel, we set out.  Unfortunately, when we arrived, the restaurant looked extremely dodgy and was lit by only red lights, which didn't seem to be a good omen.  We turned back and asked the hostel owners for some recommendations, and they found a great little place about a 15 minute cab ride away called Le Jardin de Sao Mai.  It was located on a quiet alley inside an old, cute yellow house.  And the food was incredible.  I mean, seriously incredible.  I had the best Blue Cheese salad I have ever tasted, followed by a great Beef Roquefort, all accompanied by a great French Cabernet.  It was truly spectacular.  Lilian and I sat there for over two hours just chatting and hanging out.  It was one of those moments where I felt like I was truly taking a breath from the busyness of life, and simply enjoying.  I'd definitely recommend anyone visiting HCMC to try them!

The next morning, our trend of disturbingly early flights continued with a 7:05am flight to Phu Quoc.  Talked out of a 5am departure by our hostel owner, we arranged a cab at 5:30am, since our flight was domestic, we didn't need to be at the airport 2 hours early, she said.  We packed up our stuff, walked out to the street, passing the market which was already fired up (no pun intended) and into our awaiting cab.  We made it to the airport in plenty of time, approached the check in counter, and Lillian realized that she left her passport in the safe.  At the hostel.

At this point, I went into full problem solving mode.  Lillian asked if there was a phone in the area since neither one of us had International Roaming, and the check-in lady graciously lent Lillian her cell phone.  I, on the other hand, went to the customer service counter and asked how much it would cost to change our flights to a later time, just in case.  Armed with that information, Lillian told me that she had begged someone from the hostel to run her passport out to the airport, but that they said they were pretty busy, and would have to call back in 15 minutes. I thought to myself that of course they weren't going to bring it - and in fact, I was dubious that her passport would even still be there when we got back.

As we waited, it became more and more clear that we were not going to make the 30 minute advanced check in window, so I bought us tickets on the next flight out (because Lillian had also left her wallet with the passport).  Just as we conceded that we'd have to go back to the Hostel to get the items, Lillian called the hostel one more time.  One of the employees was on a motor bike bringing the stuff out to the airport.  I told Lillian to wait by the curb outside since we had no idea where she would be coming from while I went in to the customer service counter yet again to see what would happen if miraculously, Lillian's passport arrived before the 30 minute window closed. They assured me that I could get a full refund, but that the latest we could check in was 6:40.  As the minutes ticked by, we saw the girl from the hostel sprinting with Lillian's stuff at about 6:46.  All of Lillian's things were wrapped tight in saran wrap, and nothing was missing, including money and her iPod touch.  It blew me away.  As Lillian tried to give the girl some money to thank her, she wouldn't accept it.

It was one of those moments where I realized that there are good people in the world.  We didn't make our flight, though we had checked in and were in the terminal for our later flight before our original flight was supposed to leave, but no matter.  I got to have another Vietnamese Coffee while we waited, which was a pretty good consolation prize. All in all, a minor hiccup!

Next time, I'll write about our time in Phu Quoc which was for lack of a better word, Magical.

Til next time,

The Adventurer

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