'Nam

One of the great perks of being a teacher, which I'm sure a lot of fellow teachers will tell you, is the lengthy amount of vacation time; however, one of the drawbacks is the money (or lack thereof) that you make. I find that, since I've been here, these two facts often combine to create an almost Tantalusian reality for me. This was the position I was in last summer; two months of free time and no money with which to take advantage of it. Since then I have taken on several outside jobs in addition to my regular one so that when my next lengthy break rolled around I would be able to Carpe the proverbial Diem. For me, this break came in the month of February. February is the month when Chinese New Year is typically observed (Chinese New Year is determined by the lunar calendar so there is no standardized beginning date). Although the new year celebration is a roughly two week event, people tend to use the entire month to prepare for the festivities. As people shut down their respective businesses and head home to see their family, Guilin transforms into what feels like a post-apocalyptic ghost town. Outside is eerily quiet (except for the occasional bursts of firecrackers) and many stores and restaurants shut down; leaving outsiders like myself to wander the streets like stray dogs in search of food. Given these circumstances (and the fact that I hadn't been outside of the People's Republic in over a year) I decided that this would be a good time to to travel to another country. Destination: Vietnam.

This trip would have an added bonus: my parents were joining me. Aside from a short two day excursion to Hong Kong to see my dad, it had been a year since I had seen either of them. After a happy reunion and three days of me showing them around Guilin as they pretended like they didn't feel like zombies from jet lag, we set out on our trip. Our first stop would be the capital, Hanoi. Hanoi is actually relatively close to Guilin and is able to be reached via overland vehicles. But, because Guilin would not be considered a transportation hub there would have to be stops and connections along the way.

The first leg took us from Guilin to Nanning, the capital of Guangxi. For this section we were fortunate enough to book seats on the snazzy high speed train (for those of you unfamiliar, it's the shit). This train makes the Amtrak look like a medieval horse carriage. But, as is often the case with luxury travel, the experience passes too quickly. Within two and a half hours we then found ourselves in Nanning sitting in a dirty bus station. The next leg of our trip would take us 4 hours to the Vietnam border where we would then go through customs before hopping on another 4 hour bus to Hanoi. In a short amount of time we had gone from the pinnacle of Chinese mass transit to something that was much more difficult to get excited about. In all fairness, I had been on worse buses in China before...at least this one had enough seats for everybody.

Once everybody got situated, the TV at the front of the bus came on and began playing a safety instructional video; except this was unlike any video I had seen before. In order to demonstrate the perils of not wearing a seat belt, this video showed a montage of real life footage of humans being ejected through windows, buses falling off bridges and exploding (not sure how much a seat belt would help in those circumstances), and crash test dummies being crushed under buses that had tipped over; giving us the feeling that we were in a large death trap on wheels. We spent the first ten minutes alternating between sharing nervous bouts of laughter and giving each other horrified looks, it was out of our hands at this point. We eventually did settle in and arrived at the border without incident.

No matter where you are in the world going through customs sucks, if you think otherwise you are either a serial killer, a terrorist, or work for the IRS; however, being at a border shared by two countries who are not on the best of terms made it a little bit more interesting. The only other international border I've been to is the one between the U.S. and Canada which is pretty forgetful (eh?). Although the China-Vietnam border is certainly nowhere near the intensity of the pissing contest occurring on the 38th parallel or watching some Pakistani and Indian soldiers glare at each other while holding a finger over the nuke button in Kashmir, there was a palpable sense of tension in the air that made this customs experience more memorable than others. After waiting in the necessary lines and getting the necessary stamps we then got on another bus to complete our third and final leg of the journey to Hanoi.

Hanoi traffic

I had heard from numerous friends in China that if I was to go to Vietnam I should look to travel as far south in the country as I could go. The reason being is that because of North Vietnam's proximity to China the cultures tend to mix and give a lot of the areas in the north a more Chinese feel, something I've had my fair share of already. I arrived in Hanoi with low expectations and the assumption that this would be a warm up before moving on to more interesting places...I was wrong. Sure there were a decent amount of Chinese tourists but I definitely did not feel like I was in China. The absence of Chinese characters plastered all over everything and hearing people speak a language I didn't understand certainly went a long way towards setting the scene, but there were also many more differences. We stayed in a hotel in the Old Quarter which is seen as a hip, cultural, and, let's be honest, touristy hub of the city. The narrow streets, noises, smells, and the crazy driving (I think it's even crazier than in China) all combined to create a really cool and vibrant atmosphere; however, I think the most unique characteristic of the city was that, despite it being undoubtedly Asian, there is a very tangible European vibe as well, a testament to 'Nam's time spent as a French colony. I found the atmosphere to be quite stimulating which led me to a realization: If your country absolutely must suffer a hostile takeover from marauding western imperialists who seek to steal your resources and enslave your population, you could do a lot worse than having those people be French. At least they bring with them coffee culture and al fresco dining.

After getting the lay of the land we decided to head to our first sightseeing destination: Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum. This is the sight where the preserved body of the father of modern Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh is located. The mausoleum is a large square-shaped building with guards located throughout. Voyeurs are herded into rigid lines and asked to walk single file through the room (no pictures allowed) where Ho's resting body is displayed. The effort to preserve the body has led to my man Ho looking a little glowy and wax museum-y these days but goddamnit he's still there...and he ain't movin' any time soon. Total time observing: about 10 seconds. In a city where the line between the road and the sidewalk isn't always so clear, the traffic is chaotic to put it mildly, and vendors and stores can pop up anywhere it was an interesting experience going to a place so tightly controlled. I couldn't decide whether that was a testament to the citizens' respect for the man or a governmental insistence upon the man's greatness (similar to China with Mao). Probably a little bit of both.

rest easy Ho.

(Quick aside: I've now seen the dead, preserved carcasses of Mao Zedong and Ho Chi Minh. All I need now is to plan a trip to Moscow in order to complete the Communist trifecta. Lenin I'm coming for you!)

After the mausoleum we moved on to our next stop: Hoa Lo prison. (In)famously known as the "Hanoi Hilton" to many Americans, it has ceased operations as a human animal cage and is now the sight of a cool museum. Before it was used by the north Vietnamese during the War of American Aggression (as it is known there), the prison was used by the French to hold Vietnamese inmates. Understandably so, the majority of the exhibits are dedicated the the Vietnamese citizens' internment rather than the American soldiers'. I feel strange using adjectives such as "cool" and "fun" when describing a tour through a series of torture chambers and prison cells but then again "interesting" is such a cop out. When I got to the section dedicated to the use of Hoa Lo as an American POW prison,

Front gate of the prison

I was greeted with dozens of pictures of American soldiers smiling, recreating, relaxing, and shaking hands with their captors as a video was played on repeat about the humane treatment given to them. One look at John McCain's mangled arms would suggest a different story so I found this to be a funny example of revisionist history. But I wasn't there so what do I know. All I'll say is that one should be suspicious when someone aggressively seeks to answer a question that hasn't been asked yet. My professional analysis after leaving the museum: being an inmate there didn't look like much fun. On to the next stop.

I've always had some degree of interest in military history, possibly because both of my grandfathers had military careers, but, before going to Vietnam, I don't think I had ever been a war tourist before. As an American, you don't hear much about Vietnam outside of how it relates to a turbulent time in our modern history (although I think that the recent rise in the popularity of Vietnamese food is finally starting to change that). Seeing the effects of that war in the place where it was actually fought was fascinating to me. As my mom accurately pointed out, it is rare to see a man over the age of 60, due to the staggering number of casualties suffered by the Vietnamese almost an entire generation was lost. I didn't get to see any of this but I know that there are still parts of the countryside still bombed out and destroyed from all the carnage. But, in addition to all of this negativity, you also see many tourist experiences based around this event; people looking to learn more about what happened come to Vietnam and quickly realize that there's many other redeeming qualities about the place. I found it fascinating to see that an event that so thoroughly decimated the country is now also playing an active role in building it back up again.

We spent our remaining time in Hanoi doing a lot of walking, a lot of eating, and A LOT of coffee drinking. I'm sure whoever is reading this has done those things before so I don't believe they require any further deconstruction. Next stop: Da Nang. Da Nang is a popular city located in the middle of the country on the coast. In order to get there we took the always reliable VietJet airlines. A hot towel, a cookie, and a cup of water later we touched down in Da Nang. After experiencing the bustle of Hanoi one thing immediately stood out to me about Da Nang: the quiet. Being far removed from both the capital in the north and the bustling Ho Chi Minh city in the south I expected that the pace of life would be a bit slower, but there was also another reason for the quiet: there just wasn't much to do there. The lack of activities certainly didn't have anything to do with poor location or weather. On the contrary I found Da Nang to be a quite beautiful place. It was a clean city with a nice river running through the middle and a coastline with a beach whose views would fit well in any travel guide book. It has all of the potential to be a popular tourist destination but it just isn't there yet. However, after leaving the bustle of Hanoi the change of pace was nice for us. We spent a lazy afternoon and evening walking around, checking out the beach, having drinks on open air patios, and just generally "getting our vacation on." Da Nang did hold a special significance for us because it was

Da Nang beach

where my grandfather was stationed during his time in the war. It felt strange to me that now three separate generations of my family have stepped foot on the same ground in a seemingly random place on the complete opposite side of the world.

We departed Da Nang the next day (my dad and I agreeing that this would be a place with a lot of future potential and worth keeping our eyes on) to head for Hoi An. A 45 minute drive away, Hoi An is a place that I have never heard anybody speak poorly of. Although it is a popular tourist destination and many of its features are geared towards that industry, I don't feel that Hoi An's small town, traditional Vietnamese culture has been compromised. The architecture feels genuine, the food authentic, and locals are out and about heading to work, taking leisurely walks, or taking enormous bong rips of tobacco on the side of the road. We were even fortunate enough to see a traditional Vietnamese funeral (I realize the word fortunate is an odd choice for this sentence). It reminded me of an Asian version of a New Orleans funeral (less horns, more gongs). Hoi An was where we spent the majority of our stay in Vietnam. It certainly lived up to its good reputation as we spent nearly 3 days doing more walking, more eating, and more coffee drinking with a daylong motor scooter trip through the countryside for good measure (This is when it really became apparent to me how unbelievably green the countryside was).

Hoi An lanterns

After our time expired we then made the trip back to Hanoi in order to catch a train to Nanning. We had a little less than a day to kill in Hanoi before our train left so we decided that would be our time to knock out our shopping list. I was focused on trying to buy things that I couldn't find in China (high quality coffee, Vietnamese snake wine, etc.) when I came across a store that I most certainly would not find outside of Vietnam: a war propaganda poster store. Because so much of my thinking during this trip was geared towards that event I knew I had to check it out. Inside were thousands of propaganda posters roughly divided between pro-Vietnam/Communism and anti-American categories. Obviously I was more interested in the latter. Posters ranged from Nixon with blood shot eyes and devil horns to American soldiers with cartoonish faces stealing babies from mothers. I was very entertained and decided to buy a poster depicting American fighter jets being shot out of the sky. The store owner then asked if I wanted to another one in some kind of two for one deal. I smiled and told him that one Anti-American posted was enough for me. He then inquired as to where I was from and when I told him I was from the source he laughed and cocked his head to the side and gave me the "well aren't you a strange person" look. I thanked the man and went on my way.

As an American who travels I have become somewhat accustomed to running into people who feel the need to go out of their way to criticize my country and government. These people usually fall in one of two categories: the know-it-all hipster who looks at me as some kind of ignorant simpleton who could never possibly understand the world as well as they do, or the slightly more confrontational activist who wants me to know that America is just one giant, international bully that is the source of all the negativity in the world. In my experience I've found that most of these people don't have much real life experience with which to base these opinions on, outside of movies or social media so it's hard to take them seriously; but the Vietnamese....I think they have something to gripe about. Before arriving in Vietnam I had prepared myself for the possibility that our presence my not be well-received by everybody. The country is small enough to where if someone wasn't directly affected by our military's presence then they probably know somebody who was. Knowing this I felt that I may have to walk on eggshells around the native population as I attempted to explore their country without offending anybody; however what I found was not what I expected. While there is certainly a movement to memorialize and remember what happened I also got the sense that there was an even stronger movement towards moving forward and reinventing themselves. I found the Vietnamese to not only be exceedingly outgoing, friendly and helpful, but also invariably hard working, determined, and dynamic. It's a country with a very young population and I got the distinct sense that it is heading in a positive direction.

BUT no excursion would be complete without the obligatory shitty return trip. This experience would end up being no different. In order to get to Nanning in time to catch our train back to Guilin our only option was to take an overnight train from Hanoi. We were fortunate enough to book a room on the soft sleeper section of the train and we were each given a bed to sleep on. We were glad to be afforded our own personal space and quickly got comfortable...until about 3 in the morning. Customs...shit. Half asleep we were then herded into a small waiting room with the rest of the passengers. Now customs sucks but it's usually pretty straightforward...not this time. once in the room the customs officers and soldiers, instead of asking everyone to line up, collected everybody's passport at once and brought them to another room for processing or whatever it is they do. It quickly

Damn customs

became apparent to us that once all of the passports were done that we were going to have a big problem on our hands...how were the officers supposed to know whose was whose? Two hours went by before they reemerged with the completed documents. Sure enough there was a mad dash to rush and crowd these officers further exacerbating the situation. The inability to form a line is an ancient art perfected over millennia in this part of the world so there was no chance that this was going to go easily. There were 3 or 4 officers and over 100 passengers making the task too big for them (that was also meant to be a pun because the officers happened to be very short, with comically large uniforms). We were the lucky ones because our passports were much easier to differentiate from the Chinese and Vietnamese ones. We fought and elbowed our way through the crowd until we were back on the train. As we staid up and laughed to ourselves quickly thinking of about 100 ways that could've gone better the train stopped again...customs round 2...China style. We were relieved to see that the Chinese section was much more organized and actually did employ the use of a line system, which we naively thought would make this round go by much quicker. We maneuvered our way to the front section of the line and got through the gates quickly, only to find out that, for reasons unknown, we must wait for every other passenger to go through before we were allowed back on the train. What followed was an agonizing hour and a half that sucked all the humor out of us as we watched each passenger one by one go through while being held in one section of the complex monitored by two guards. After the last passenger went through and official stood up and paced back and forth in front of the crowd for a minute before telling us that it was time to get back on the train. Thanks buddy we would've had no idea what to do without you. The message: "We're in control here, welcome to China bitches."

"Going Native" Experience of the Week

I'm sure most of you have heard the stereotype about black people being loud in movie theaters; well, I'm here to tell you that there is another ethnic group gunning for that distinction: the Chinese. I've never been a big fan of going to the movies here. When you buy your tickets you have to preselect which seat you're going sit in and never deviate from it, (even if the rest of the theater is mostly empty and there are better seats available). The popcorn has an odd sweet taste to it instead of being salty and buttery. The government also censors the crap out of western movies to where many of them can't even be shown in Chinese theaters and the ones that do make it will typically have entire scenes removed which are deemed too explicit for whatever reason. The end result is a choppy, disjointed movie that doesn't always make complete sense. The only kind of movies that typically fit all of the appropriate criteria are super/action hero films where the handsome male protagonist spends two hours beating up bad guys before saving the world and getting the girl in the end; which I find to be boring, unoriginal, and it generally doesn't jive with my judgmental nature. But the most egregious foul of the whole experience is the behavior of the audience.

In a country this big and with this many people there are instances where politeness is not a smart or sustainable strategy (eg: driving, grocery shopping, etc). While I don't feel that that is an ideal way to go through life I do understand why sometimes things are that way; however, there are certain activities, such as going to a movie theater, where an enjoyable experience is in large part predicated on the assumption that each person in the group is mindful that they're not the only ones there and respect for others must be exercised (Have I done enough self-righteous, moral grandstanding yet?........nah, I'll keep going). Falling short of these basic standards can potentially defeat the entire purpose of engaging in the activity in the first place. Such was my frustration when I went to go see Kingsmen last week with my girlfriend.

In retrospect, I should've known what was in store for me before the movie even started. During the previews everyone was reminded to please power off their cell phones (a reasonable request that really should not be met with any defiance). I quickly did so which prompted my girlfriend to ask the following: "Why are you turning your phone off? Nobody else is going to."

"So if everybody else is being inconsiderate assholes then that means I also have to be one?" I shot back.

She said she understood my point and proceeded to turn her phone off.

Jay: 1 China: 0.

The movie starts and the protagonist is introduced. A murmur arises from the female members of the audience about how handsome (shuai) he is. Phones are produced and pictures (some with flash) are taken of the screen showing the shuai actor. Several of them then proceed to upload those pictures, along with the mandatory selfie, to their WeChat accounts (essentially the Chinese form of Facebook) so that their friends all will know that they are currently watching a movie in a theater and the main actor is shuai. They would periodically check there phones throughout the duration of the movie presumably to monitor their "Like" and "Comment" count.

Jay: 1 China: 1


After the phone nonsense was over I noticed that one person continued to hold up their camera to the movie screen. I eventually realized that they weren't taking a picture of the screen...they were bootlegging the movie. The light from their device remained in my field of vision for the entire duration. I was constantly going back and forth from wanting to kick the back of their seat to being impressed that they could hold their hands above their head for so long.

Jay: 1 China: 2

About 20 minutes later a phone belonging to the man sitting next to me begins loudly ringing. The man takes it out of his pocket.....and answers it. Without even entertaining the idea of stepping outside he launches into a loud and noisy conversation. I turn to him, we make eye contact, I raise my arms and turn my palms up to the ceiling and give him the "What the hell are you doing?" gesture. My passive-aggressiveness was lost on him and he continued the conversation for another minute or so. I turn to my girlfriend who is giving me the smug "I told you so" look. I then survey the crowd and come to the realization that I am the only person who is outraged at the guy speaking on his phone.

Game over: China wins (again)

So there I am sitting in a movie theater where girls all around me are taking pictures of the screen and updating their respective social media accounts, a person in front of me is very clearly taping the movie, the man next to me is talking on his phone, I'm eating bad popcorn, the movie I'm watching is censored into submission, and it's hot...and I'm sweating. I survey the situation and say to myself "Holy shit, this really sucks." As I contemplate what else would need to happen to push me into Opposite George territory the movie mercifully ends. I leave the theater with a broken psyche and head home with my tail between my legs.



Mandarin Improvement Sign

Going to a country where Mandarin isn't spoken gave me a great idea of how far I've come as far as language is concerned. The bus ride into Hanoi was where I was first exposed to the Vietnamese language. Although I didn't understand a single word they were saying the sound was fascinating. It reminded me of the rapid staccato of the chickens who used to wake me up outside of my old apartment. I came to the realization that not too long ago this was how I felt when hearing Chinese. Reentering into the country and understanding a language that still wasn't English was a rewarding feeling and felt to me like a solid indicator of my progress. 

Funny Sign of the Week

This is written on a table cloth at at popular western restaurant in my neighborhood.



Reason Why I Like This Place (Vietnam)

When it comes to my eating habits I would describe myself as less of a "foodie" and more of a garbage disposal that consumes pretty much anything put in front of me. It's because of this lack of pickiness that I would not consider myself to be the most reliable food critic so take what I say here with a grain of salt. Disclaimer aside, I found Vietnamese food to be quite enjoyable. The only traditional Vietnamese dish that I had heard of before visiting was Pho. Before arriving I always just assumed that Pho was something that white girls ordered at restaurants or made at home so that they could snapchat some not-so-witty puns about how Pho-nominal or how Pho-ucking good it was. I enjoyed Pho but it tasted a lot like the rice noodles that are so common in Guilin so I was eager to explore other dishes. Vietnamese food is unique because it is most definitely Asian food but there is also a very distinctive French element to their dishes. It's the combination of these cuisines that creates another popular street food: Banh Mi. This was something that was recommended to me by friends who traveled to Vietnam before and it didn't disappoint. If Pho was a good but familiar taste for me, then the Hoi An Cao Lau noodles were a goddamn revelation. Good stuff Hoi An, good stuff.

Random Tangent 

I'm very excited about this.