Ramblin' Man

Okay, you're going to be getting some ramblin' today.

Let's go back a few days. After 3 fittings and several trips to 2 different tailors, Reg and I have shipped home a total of 2 suits, a sports coat, 3 dresses, 3 pair of trousers, 2 ties and 2 shirts. Yeah, we went a bit overboard, but really, its good stuff.

We made it to the beach while in Hoi An, biking the 3+ miles through Vietnamese traffic. First the beach: New Jersey has been ruined for me. For that matter, beaches in the US are ruined. If I could find a way to get my pics from my camera to this blog, you'd understand why. That said, the Pacific Ocean is one salty ocean. Yes, I understand the Atlantic has a higher salinity rate but with the warmth of the water where I was, it was salty as can be. That didn't dampen the experience. Laying there, looking out at Cham Island (look it up) and just soaking up the shade, ocean breeze, and slight sun rays that poked through the palm fronds, it was perfect.

Vietnamese traffic. I think I've mentioned this before, but these people are freakin' insane. Here's how it works...everyone has the right of way. I beep, you move over. The only people who have no right of way are pedestrians. Cross the street at your own peril. We were given advice by a tour guide a week ago, "In the cities, cross slowly. In the towns, wait, they won't stop." I'd amend that last part to say, "In the towns, run like hell!" Traffic lanes don't matter, nor do one way streets. Motos/scooters/whatever the hell isn't a car does whatever they want. In Hanoi, we've only seen 3 functioning traffic lights. TR said, "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Nick Kosiek says, "Tread slowly and be ready to scrurry like hell." There's a reason there are a ton of accidents and vdeaths from vehicles every year. The people in the shops/streets keep trying to get us to rent a scooter, they're nuts, no way in hell is that happening.

Dear late-teen to early 20-something backpacker: SHUT THE FUCK UP! If I can hear you in a crowded bus and make out your entire conversation, you're too loud. If I can hear you 3 rows away on an airplane and follow your discussion on William Shatner and Jennifer Anniston, you're too loud. If you complain about paying the equivalent of $1.50 for a beer instead of $1, shut up. If you can't afford to eat in a restaurant, its not because its too expensive, its because you're a cheap bastard. SHUT UP! Oh, and that dirty, trashy, white-shoe with scuffs and tears all over-look, or the no tee-shirt with torn shorts-look, you look like an idiot. Seriously, these people would never be caught dead in this shit in London, Birmingham, Sydney, Auckland, Dublin or NYC, why the hell is it acceptable in Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi? If you're pale, put on some clothes and make sure you put on some suntan lotion, seeing human lobsters on the street is not a thing anyone wants to see. You're not cool, you're a fool.

Uncle Ho is everywhere in this country. Smiling down from most shop windows and light-poles, he gazes upon you making sure that you know you're in the land of the people's paradise. He's on one side (not sure which) of every Dong note there is, from the 500, up to the 500,000. Seriously, I've used notes of the following denominations: 500, 1000, 2000, 5000, 10000, 20000, 50000, 100000, and 500000 and he's always looking at me. The cool part about the money is the bigger the denomination, the larger the physical size of the note.

Speaking of Uncle Ho, today we went to Ha Lao Prison, or what's left of it. Many of you will be more familiar with the name, The Hanoi Hilton. It was an old French-built prison used to jail nationalists and revolutionaries and was later used by the Vietnamese to house downed US pilots, including John McCain. Talk about propaganda, wow. Glorious revolutionaries, communist paradise, delicious Christmas meal, beloved comrades, etc. Oh yeah, I've also got a photo of a guillotine, the French were some cruel bastards.

We met a Chef by the name of Phi (Fee) on Tuesday. Talk about a cool cat. He could make jokes in English as well as teach me how to make some kick-ass food. Gave great recommendations and was a huge soccer-fan. Seriously nice guy, huge flirt too. Said he had 7 wives...not 8 because that's a bad luck number in Vietnam.

In an earlier post I talked about poor plane companions, yesterday may have been the worst. On a 2/3 full flight, the guy on the ailse next to Reg decided not to move to an empty row (RIGHT BEHI HIM!) but instead had his arm raised most of the flight from Danang to Hanoi (1 hour, 15 minutes) with no deodorant on. The guy behind me kept kicking my seat, and the stupid people from the NYC metro-area kept having loud conversations.

Will be heading to Halong Bay on Saturday and Sunday returning late that afternoon so that we can watch the World Cup Final routing on Holland. Everyone here watches. Have not seen the new Arsenal kit, but have seen some great Chelsea and United knock-offs. That said, my favorite fake was a kid-sized Arsenal kit in an orange. I did pick-up a souvenir for myself, a real Vietnam jersey from the Nike store.

I've finally gotten my bargaining-shoes on. The first few days, I just paid whatever (if there's a sticker, you pay that price, if not you're suppose to haggle.) I wasn't really worried about a dollar here or there until we went to buy some fabric for something Reg will be making. We bought some at one stall after being quoted $3/meter. We found another little stand selling another style that we liked, same quality and the woman told me $5. I said no way and started walking. When she asked why it was too high, I showed her the other stuff and told her how much I paid. She looked uncertain but decided to do business for $3/meter. When we walked to another stand looking for some souvenirs, it was game on.

The first thing everyone asks is, "Where you from?" or "What's your name?" Right after one, they ask the other. Yesterday at the souvenir stand, it was Tom, from Canada. The woman wanted a bit more than I was willing to pay for some chopsticks (Yes, I, Nick Kosiek, bough chopsticks) and a holder. I got her down a whole $.50. Its about saving face for both parties, I'm getting better at it. I was able to bargain for my next patch for my backpack earlier today. Reg just laughs when I do it now. I'm all up for a little haggling.

I finally had shit food today. Not "make you shit food" but just shit asian food. There was more taste in my $1.50 beer than in the food itself. It was a fried rice with chicken dish that's pretty standard here in Vietnam. There were still bones in the meal as well as plenty of cartilage. I was amazed because all over the restaurant were comment cards filled out by people from all over about how great it was. It was SHIT! I think I could've made better food than what was given to me. No, really, I mean it.

I'm sure I've missed plenty, but that's okay because Reg will cover it sometime soon.

Much love to you all, especially to Rags who now appears to be reading!

N