Excesses

A quick comment on the amount of plastic and other packaging. This is something I find easy to whine and bitch about. Well, honestly, what don't I find easy to whine and bitch about? This picture, for example, is of a box of green tea cakes I purchased at the airport. A box wrapped in cellophane containing a bunch of miniature boxes that contain little plastic bags containing aluminum-lined paper containing the actual item I purchased. They were good, thanks for asking, but this is irrelevant.

The point is, that aside from this, there is so much unnecessary packaging or at least so I thought. At first I thought there was a definite overuse of plastic bags here in southeast Asia. And while I still find this generally to be the case, it could be worse. Everything could be processed and wrapped and sealed in multiple containers just like at the grocery store. Take Trader Joe's for example. King of overpackaging. I'm not bashing, just stating the obvious.

So, when I lament the fact I am getting fresh produce in plastic bag or 100 grams of cashews in a plastic bag or some street food wrapped in plastic - what the hell else are they to do? No bag for me. Just drop those cashews right into my mouth. It may not always be necessary, but it is often convenient and there just isn't another real viable alternative. Not here anyway. Well, at least not a blatantly obvious viable alternative. Sure there are, you say and I agree that for me, there is. I could reuse the bag, but I'm not going to forgo the fresh produce or the street food or the cashews. Never!

This is going nowhere. Thanks for taking notice. Instead of lamenting the overuse of plastic and excess packaging over here, I will instead direct some attention to the land of excess: the United States. The size of our automobiles, the size of our homes, the amount of gasoline we use, the amount of fast food we eat, the portion sizes, the size of our waists, everything in excess! Is it all necessary?

The streets of Hanoi

Just a photo of the madness that is Hanoi. Really a crazy city, but fun. It's seems like it is every person for themselves, but everyone is really conscious of each other. That's why it works I suppose. That's why it would never work at home because most people are only conscious of themselves. I don't miss the noise or the feeling that someone is going to run into me from behind, but I do miss the vibe. The energy of that place, like most places in Vietnam, is insane. Insanely invigorating.

Sitting on the street corner

Watching the world go by. That is thing to do in Vietnam. And even better if you can sit at one of the local bia hoi joints where draft beer flows and it flows cheaply. It may not be the best beer in the world, but at the price of around 15 cents a glass it's hard to complain. I should be enjoying one of these beverages right now since I am a little tense and dry in the mouth. Yes, I agree, maybe I should find other avenues of releasing stress. Perhaps I will get a massage instead. But hey, loosen up, perhaps it's you that needs the beer.

So, in Hanoi, there was an intersection of bia hoi establishments. Usually filled with a combination of locals and tourists, it was an interesting place to people watch. It, like seemingly every intersection in Vietnam, was a blind intersection. And therefore, it was especially fun to see cars, motos, bikes and pedestrians enter at the same time and watch who would put on the brakes first. Needless to say, there was a lot of honking, braking, speeding - a lot of entertainment. Add to that, some kid practicing wheelies with no intention of watching who was coming from the other direction. The art of living dangerously.

The most beautiful girl

This is Cha from Sapa. She was one of the H'mong girls trying to sell to the tourists. I didn't buy, but I did get enthralled by her presence and enjoyed our brief conversation. I normally don't do many double takes and can't fathom a triple take - I'm totally lying - but I made an exception for her. I didn't even notice the kid on her back until I looked to review my pictures. By that time the drool had frozen on my jacket. Anyway, I felt like a kid again, a kid who couldn't have the girl and who couldn't get to sleep because he couldn't get her out of his mind. It felt nice to know I was alive.

Sapa

A week ago, maybe two weeks by the time you read this, I was in Sapa. Sapa is close to the border of China and is in the mountains. It was cold as it is winter in northern Vietnam, but it was bearable. Not only bearable, it was beautiful and one of the highlights of my trip. The mountainous region is home to many hill tribes or ethnic minority groups that originally emigrated from China some time ago.

Although the area was fairly touristy, it was a ton of fun communicating with these people and learning about their way of life. I could live there. Well, I could for a little while. In the summer. I don't know if I could tend to the rice paddies, but I could wake up every morning feeling refreshed and constantly awed by the magical scenery of the place.

The hill tribes (as they are called) that we came into contact with include the H'mong (the H is silent), the Red Dzao (pronounced Zow) and the Xa (add a tilde over the 'a' and pronounce it Za).

These two H'mong girls, Ela and Lu, were extremely cute and fun to have on our treks.
Until they called me rat bastard for not wanting to buy any of their goods, which I have to say were not comparable in quality or price to those in the store. I eventually relented and purchased a few inexpensive items to keep them happy and keep away the evil eye. Because it was there and I didn't want it. I thought we were friends.
The weather was cold and the fog and mist rolled in during the evenings. It may have dampened the place a bit, but it didn't dampen my spirits. Yes, I am cheesy.
The H'mong women wait patiently outside to attack the tourists when they leave the hotel. First, they befriend you and then they make you pinky swear you'll buy something from them later and then if you don't, well, you don't want to know what happens. It was good fun. Such memorable people.
Terraced rice paddies were everywhere. The trails leading to the villages were very wet and muddy and it was so much fun to wear rubber boots and traipse through the muck!
There were a lot of animals along the trail including these water buffalo, chickens, ducks, pigs, dogs, a pony and many elephants. No, there were not any elephants. Don't be foolish.
These girls were also particularly memorable. And cute, but you can't buy something from everyone even though you want to. It's kind of distressing.
Big pig - need I say more?
The H'mong boys were a rare find. That is because they did not sell anything and therefore did not have to interact with the tourists. They were typically tending to the rice paddies, carrying bamboo or firewood, dragging wood for houses or otherwise doing manly things. Stereotypically manly things. They did not speak English in the same surprising fashion as the women.
This little piggy went to the market. Yes, that is a pig tied to the back of a moped, otherwise known as a moto in this part of the world. A squealing pig is a terrible, haunting sound and I think everyone should hear it before they have their next slice of bacon. Anyone who says animals don't experience pain or fear is just ridiculous.
H'mong treasures. This woman tried really hard to sell me this head band even though it was actually a waist band and in the end I decided against it. A wise move I must say in retrospect. But beautful treasures they are.
Typical view of the mountains.
More rice paddies.
This woman was great. So friendly. These people can move down a muddy, slippery trail with ease. Watching us must have been highly entertaining.
Yet more rice paddies.
We were on the bus waiting to leave and they still don't give up. I love them for it.

Out with the old

And in with the new. How original, eh? I'm talking about getting new ear plugs. I just wanted to give a quick shout out to Danielle for rescuing my ears from the sand, dirt and wax infested yellow buds of joy that have been inside my ears for a rather unfortunate amount of time - unfortunate for me and for them - but they have provided me with moments of sleep and sanity that I would have otherwise been without and I am appreciative of them and their presence in my life. Now into the trash with you and may you actually end up at a trash disposal site and not the Mekong River. There is nothing like fresh ear plugs and pretty blue ones too, let me tell you.

The flag

Do you know what the Vietnam flag represents? Neither did I until recently. Do you know what the United States flag represents? Yeah, yeah, the stars represent the number of states and the number of stripes represent the thirteen original colonies. But can you tell me anything else? I couldn't come up with anything. That doesn't mean there isn't any more symbolism, it just means I'm not that educated in such matters and I'm okay with that. Maybe you can teach me something?

The Vietnamese seem to be more knowledgable about their flag. Maybe I just happened to talk to the right guy. And maybe he was full of shit, but I doubt it. Flags are everywhere over here and people seem to be pretty proud of their country. Quite contrary to the state of our nation. If you doubt this, I have to question who you hang out with and what planet you live on.

Ok, on with the story. The color red represents the blood the Vietnamese have shed for their independence. The yellow star represents the color of their skin. And the five-pointed star represents the five main continents that Vietnam considers their friends: America (as a whole, not just the USA), Europe, Asia, Africa and Australia.

Yes, I know Antarctica is technically considered a continent, but apparently the population was negligible enough for them to actually consider a six-pointed star. And while we are discussing technicalities, we all know that America is actually divided into two continents: North America and South America. Again, maybe they didn't want the six-pointed star. I like the five-pointed star better myself.

So, basically Vietnam wants to be friends with the world. That's what this guy told me. And I believe it. Everyone has been amazingly friendly to me. Well, except that one guy who gave me the death threat, but he has been an anomoly and let's not get into that right now.

Beer

You would think I would have devoted at least one posting to food at this point. I don't think I have anyway. Let's just say the food is good. And let me get on with talking about beer. I am a beer drinker. Not a heavy beer drinker by any means, but a heavier one as the days go by. My consumption has increased, but it's not continually increasing, it's just higher than normal. I've plateaued. I love trying to rationalize the fact I'm not an alcoholic. Cause I'm not. I swear. By the moon and the stars in the sky. I swear.

I have even dabbled in whiskey, rice wine and don't tell anyone, even marijuana. It's okay, even our Presidents have done it and yes, they inhaled. I have to say I'm not the biggest fan of any of the aforementioned pastimes. They just don't do it for me. There is nothing that beats a big, cold beer on a hot day. Maybe a cheap, big, cold beer or sex in the shower - somebody is corrupting my mind I tell you - but seriously, a cold beer on a hot day, it is a great thing.

Ok, where am I going? There are a lot of beers over here. I feel like I am back home with all the beverage options. Sure, the choices are essentially limited to a number of light, crisp lagers, but being that it is hot virtually all the time, why would you want anything else?

For those inclined to wonder what has been guzzled over the past few months, let me create a list for you now:

Thailand
Tiger Beer
Leo
Singha
Chang
Laos
Beerlao
Beerlao dark
Cambodia
Angkor
Anchor
Asahi
ABC
Bayon
Crown
Vietnam
Bia Saigon green
Bia Saigon red
333
Larue
Bia Quy Nhon
Huda
Festival
Bia Hanoi
Bia Halida
Lao Cai

Ok, this is getting extremely boring. You have got to have some serious time on your hands. I apologize for the inconvenience. Southeast Asia is home to many beers. End of story. Almost.

Sure you can find Heineken or Carlsberg or some other variety that is always overpriced compared to the local brand, but why would you even go there? That's like eating Western food instead of the local cuisine and that is a shame. Unfortunately it is too common. Branch out. Try something new!

Where am I again?

Sometimes it begins to feel like home. Even though it hardly comes close to resembling home. I am in Saigon at an internet cafe. Speedy and cheap. I am listening to the familiar tunes of Mason Jennings. I am adjusting to the constant noise. I no longer shit my pants when I hear bus horns reverberating through my skull. I still jump out of my skin, but that's better, right? I'm pretty sure about that.

I am in a comfy American Apparel t-shirt that is now sleeveless. I needed another tank-top to battle the heat. I have my books and my journal and familiar surrounds. I am used to hopping on a moto and charging through blind intersections, honking, slamming on brakes, barely avoiding catastrophe, adrenaline surging through my veins. Why don't I have travel insurance?

Feeling good. Perhaps the iced coffee was too strong. My head is a-a-a-a-alive if you know what I'm saying. My stomach is feeling the need for some samosas. Soon, soon. So many updates, so much down time. I love down time. The people are fantastic. Except when they're screaming in your ear at an internet cafe and there's no escape.

I am used to showering in the same room as the toilet and soaking everything in the process. There's a drain and it dries quickly. I am used to the tiny bugs crawling on the bathroom wall. Fortunately they are tiny. I don't like big bugs. I have only seen one cockroach and that was in front of one of the most expensive hotels in town.

What I'm saying is I've finally found a comfort zone and I'm not leaving this one just yet. I'm extending my visa here. I have more to see, more people to meet, more things to do, absolutely so much more to experience. You can wire funds to me at your convenience.

My cyclo driver in Nha Trang sometime this past month.

Halong Bay

Halong Bay is way up in the Northeast and is one of the "must-sees" of Vietnam. We cruised around on a junk, otherwise known as a boat, and it was cold. And misty. This added to the overall mystique of the place. Sure, it would have been better lounging on the sun deck rather than inside shivering, but it was still a very cool place.

There were many boats out on the Gulf of Tonkin. The majority were within Halong Bay containing tourists like myself. The mist was nice in that it prevented us from seeing most of the other 1000 boats that ply these same waters.

We stopped at one cave containing this very unusual rock formation. Our guide called it the "Exciting Cave", but I think he meant Excited.

Kayaking was part of the tour and after the blood got moving I was glad to have taken part despite the fact the frigid waters ran off the paddle into my groin with every stroke.

A hike was in store the following day on Cat Ba Island and it was actually pretty strenuous.

The views were incredible if you used your imagination.

The last day we lounged on the deck taking advantage of the dry lounge chairs even though it was still cold and not lounging weather.

Back at the harbor, we butted our way through many boats to find a spot at the dock. These women were selling everything from fresh produce to Oreos.

Street signs in Vietnam

Yeah, yeah. Tell me about it. These pictures aren't that funny and you may be wasting your time even reading this, but they're the best I've got. I found them funny at the time and perhaps you can get a chuckle out of them. Or at least a smile. Or a slight nod in recognition of how I found them funny in the first place. Or maybe you don't have a sense of humor. You ungrateful bastard!

Alien crossing.

Watch out for dancing children.

You people are sick!

Birthday coitus

I was having the most amazing birthday sex ever. In this new year of 2008, year of the Rat, one would have thought it was year of the Dog by observation. I was flying high. Celebrating my birthday in style. Nothing, absolutely nothing could stop me. That is, until I woke up. It was 9pm and I had been passed out for three hours. I had a headache and I needed some water. It was all just too good to be true.

In actuality, my birthday was a good one, despite the lack of sex. If I really measured a day's goodness by my level of sexual activity I would be having a lot of bad days. I would be taking every anti-depressant under the sun and I would still be under the clouds.

My birthday, February 9, happened to coincide with the third day of Tet so it was officially still time to ring in the new year. I met Kha on the bus the day before and he invited me to his house to celebrate. I found his address, met his mother and daughter and soon we were off at a cafe sipping Vietnamese tea and coffee with his friends. There was limited conversation because of the language barrier, but we were able to introduce ourselves, state our ages and express our celebratory mood for the multiple occasions on hand.

Before our coffees were finished, we were up and back on our respective motos. Heading who knows where, but it didn't matter. We ended up at the first friend's house and I could tell it was going to be a long day from the onset. We drank beer, we drank brandy, we drank whiskey and we snacked on peanuts. I think I had consumed five beverages before noon. So much for limiting myself to just two hours. 3...2...1...YO!

From there, we went back to Kha's house. His mother had prepared a bounty of food, much of it vegetarian. An chay, an chay, an chay she said as she pointed to this dishes I could eat. What a woman. She spoke English and was very helpful at times aside from being extremely generous. More beers were cracked open and a lot of food was consumed. I don't let good vegetarian food go to waste. You know that!

Another moto. Another house. Another beer. Another friend. Another shot of brandy. Another friend. Another moto. Another beer. Repeat!

Somehow I ended up with a half dozen roses during the afternoon. Birthday flowers. And some of the friends disappeared along the way and new ones took their places. I could not disappear. I had no idea where I was. But I was most certainly faded and it was like I wasn't there at times. I don't know how I held onto the back of some of those motos, but I did. And I don't remember a lot of the pictures that were taken that day, but there they were.

It was a lot of fun, that day. Those guys were incredibly generous and welcoming. It was supposedly lucky for them to have me in their house during this holiday period. I think it was lucky for me. I also think it was lucky I got home. I weaved my way back to my hotel on my bicycle summoning all I had left. I made it up the stairs and face planted onto the bed. And then I had the best birthday sex ever.

Kha, friend from the bus (pictured on left) and friends.

Celebrating Tet and my birthday!

Smile you jerk

Sometimes all it takes is a smile to warm the soul. Or a heaping plate of cheap food. Or a beer. Or maybe three. Or all of the above. For me today, it began with a smile. The bitterness within has slowly faded and my unjustifiable scowl and unfriendly glare have gone with it. I can't explain it, why days begin as they do, I just know some days start shitty and only go down the toilet from there. I wish I could, but I can't just wake up and say "Today is going to be a great day!" Well, I could, but it would be done with absolute sarcasm.

It all began last night. It is cold up in the north of Vietnam. Unseasonably cold. It feels like I am back home and I don't want to be. Not yet. Not while it is still cold. So back to last night. I tossed and turned my way through the evening. Two blankets were insufficient to keep me cozy and my earplugs were ineffective at keeping out the noise. I awoke with the agitation alive within. I hoped a hot shower would shake the chills, but it was lukewarm at best and only helped to fuel the fire.

I hate being cold. And it doesn't take much to bring me to my "freezing point". I hate rain in my face and I hate drizzle even worse. If it's going to rain, just rain. Today, it drizzled. And my fingers froze and I have been feeling cold and relatively uncomfortable all day. At least back home, I could go to a cafe and warm up by the fire over some hot tea. Here, I go to an internet cafe and have some fool blowing his cigarette smoke in my face for the duration. That does not warm me up.

Yes, today the world was slowly conspiring against me. That's how it always works. I know it's not true, but it's hard to feel otherwise when you can't break the spell that started the downward spiral. Every noise, every god-forsaken horn that beeped, every voice that yelled, jarred my sensibilities. And so I would mutter something under my breath and refurrow my brow to make myself feel "better" - take that world - forgetting or ignoring the fact I was only increasing my own internal strife.

The cold is truly my worst enemy. If I am cold I am not comfortable and constantly in "survival" mode. I don't care about anything else, it all falls by the wayside as I attempt to get warm. It's hard to notice other people suffering. It's hard to notice a beautiful woman. It's hard to notice anything but my own "misery". Sometimes it seems impossible for me to get warm. It's just a long struggle to get through the day as I grow into a bigger and bigger asshole. Most people who know me, know that. I can't seem to help it. Forgive me for my sins. That is certainly not my only one.

So, today I muttered and scowled and shivered and cursed and spat and scratched and clenched and kicked and lamented my woes and while getting overcharged for everything I slowly pulled my hat lower and lower over my eyes and dug my hands deeper and deeper into my pockets. Not to dig out change, but to clench my fists and scream internally at the world. Ahhhhh!

A girl walked by me late this afternoon. Eye contact. And a smile. And with it, an exhalation of bitterness that had accumulated throughout the day. Get out! A smile brought about my transformation. A slow one it certainly was, but I know that was the turning point. And then I found a cheap homely hole-in-the-wall restaurant and filled my belly with noodles and hot Vietnamese tea, which helped me come nearly full circle. Until I dealt with the bitch again at the travel agency.

You can't always end a story on a good note. Just remember that you can change someone's day by smiling. You might not change your own day, but you can help reduce someone else's suffering. You may just be rewarded later on if you are open to it. If you act like a bitch, then you deserve your suffering and may someone end your misery - hopefully by smiling.

The local bus

Typical scene on the road, often with four or five passengers!

The other day, must have been a week ago now, I decided to get off the tourist trail. They make it kind of difficult to do. Instead of booking a ticket at my hotel and waiting out front for the bus, I actually had to put in some effort [interjection: it is really difficult to concentrate when you are inhaling some fuckstick's second hand smoke]. This amounted to taking a moto to the bus station and then getting overcharged for a overpacked minibus. But all in all it was a rewarding experience.

The first moto driver tried to charge me 30,000VND for a 10,000 ride and he wouldn't budge. So after smiling and muttering an inaudible Fuck off, I was on my way again. The next guy flashed the ten sign and we were off. Only he had no idea where I told him to go. But he was good at pretending until I waved him over to the side to look up 'bus station' in the back of my Lonely Planet. We went off again and shortly thereafter I was dropped off at the station directly in front of a sign for my desired destination.

They quickly tried to get me aboard and said the fare was 90,000. I decided it was fair enough and began talking to Tsoi, pronounced soy, a local guy from a town somewhere along the way to our destination. He helped put me at ease amongst the throng of eyeballs cast in my direction and made me laugh by referring to another white guy as my friend. That's something I would have only thought and probably not dared to say, but I'm glad he said it. It was only later in talking to this "friend" of mine, that I learned the actual fare was 65,000 - inside the bus station. I was being taken for a ride I suppose, but that's what I wanted anyway, just a ride. A new experience.

And I got one. The 15 seat bus was overfilled when we departed and it was clear we were not done picking up passengers. We went from 20 to 19 to 21 to 19 to 24 and ultimately to 25 and it was maybe two hours into the trip that we finally began the process of dropping off passengers. And it was such a fantastic experience. I could finally see out the window again and take in the amazingly lush countryside, the green mountains, the white sand beaches, the fishing boats crowding the harbor, guys pulled over on the side of road taking a whizz as they saw fit. It's amazing. That spot looks good. Against the fence. On the highway. On the beach. Virtually anywhere seems acceptable.

Dropping off passengers also gave me the opportunity to release my knees that had been embedded into the seatback in front of me. And to finally adjust myself without elbowing the guy snoozing on my left. There was a little kid on the bus sitting in his mother's lap. He took one glance at me, I smiled, and he balled. Like crazy. And just wouldn't quit. I think he thought he saw a ghost. I grimaced in embarassment for causing the ruckus and looked away. This guy in front was still snoring away, incredibly. I wish I could sleep like that sometimes. Unfazed and off in never, neverland. The kid finally tired of his own noise and eventually departed the bus in the arms of his mother. When the pretty young girl finally got off she nodded an It's all good in my direction. I nodded back.

We kept going. We passed duck farms. Someone was smoking behind me giving me a headache [just like this asshole next to me] . Soon someone is chewing bubble gum. The artificial flavors overwhelm the bus and my senses. I want some Hubba Bubba right now. When people get off the bus, the additional comfort brought about by their departure is like a deep breathe of fresh air. Except that with the cigarette smoke, it's not necessarily fresh. But you can taste the additional oxygen in the air and it is intoxicating.

We passed one accident. Two motos lying strewn on the road. I didn't see the victims - only a crowd and official-looking people taking notes. There are many, many motos on the road in Vietnam. There are fewer cars and buses, but they travel faster and more aggressively honking all the way. They have the right of way and constantly announce their presence with the horn. It is obnoxious, but apparently necessary. Horns are definitely overused, but I suppose an additional honk is better than an additional accident.

It is better to look away sometimes. And let the driver do his thing. It is hard to just look away when you think the bus is about to hydroplane off the road and thankfully it hasn't yet come to that. The driver bobs and weaves like a professional boxer and my stomach heaves like the lightweight I am.

Yesterday, a herd of goats was crossing the road. The people are so impatient they keep driving, albeit slowly, plowing (and honking) their way through. It's just the way. Sometimes the way is not the best way. I saw a goat get run over. The window seat passengers screamed at this sight. Fortunately, the vehicle was of the sport utility variety and the goat was just a kid. He dropped to his knees, received a knock upon his head from the undercarriage of the car and got up and rejoined the herd. A deep sigh of relief ensued.

Hoi An, Vietnam - out and around

Grabbing a beer with Stefano and Daniel.
Pick a fabric and have anything made for real cheap.

Trying my custom-fitted hat on for size.

The man with many hats.

A lot of chihauhaus around this town.

taken on a glorious day - 13 Feb 2008

Hoi An, Vietnam - at the market

A visually stimulating array of goods at the market.

One of many poor chickens.

These women happily posed for this picture and then happily held out their hands for some change.

What kind of eggs would you like?

Some of the most delicious looking produce I've ever seen.

taken on a gorgeous day - 13 Feb 2008

The need for speed

Ok, I don't really need speed. Not at all. But I do need my sweets and I need them soon. I can't help it, I absolutely thrive off of sugar and my blood sugar is getting perilously low. And I need to pee too and the combination is triggering some serious mental anguish. But I'm waiting for some videos to upload and I want to finish this post.

My overall need for sweets has been slightly reduced on this trip, partly because my intake of beer has increased. But at the same time, I feel like I need more sugar to fill the void left by a meager meal of more white rice and watery fried vegetables. No hearty vegetables, just a few carrots, some green beans, cabbage and a lot of onions. Sometimes I get lucky with some broccoli and cauliflower. I am grateful for those meals as I am when I get some tofu. But when I don't, pass me the hot chili sauce. Douse it up. And watch me lick every drop.

It was not like this in Thailand. The vegetables were cheap and abundant. And the sauces were spicy and delicious. And in Laos, well, I ate a lot of Indian food so I didn't run into the problem there either. Now, well, I'm going to bust into that package of Oreos in my hotel if I don't get my fix soon. And I'd rather not because I've already consumed more Oreos during this trip than I have in my lifetime. And I've had more 7UP than I've consumed in the last decade. What can I say, I am a sugar addict.

With a full bladder and a rumbling belly - and not to mention that my underwear is really digging into my upper thighs - I am bordering on that precarious level. That point when the hands start shaking and my lips start quivering. Give me some sugared peanuts. I need to go down to the market and find me something fast. Some peanut cakes, some sesame candy, coconut candy, anything with the word candy after it. Sorry, eating more fruit does not cut it. It's not the same. My body has evolved to need some processed crap. Shame on me.

If it's not sugar, which it absolutely is right now, it's coffee. I'm no addict by any means, but the Vietnamese coffee is absolutely delicious. I find myself needing it to break the sanity. Sometimes just sitting there alone in the morning I am too still, too aware of my situation and I can't stand it. One black coffee please. I find myself needing that little buzz to make life a little blurry. To make my head vibrate just enough to make me think about something else. To not care about sitting there alone. To make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

I'm not too worried about it all really. The need comes and goes. It is just an interesting observation. When the need arises, I fill it. I don't always fill it with sugar, coffee or beer. And I'm not always "sitting there alone in the morning." There are times I love sitting there alone with my thoughts. Alone with the chance to take some deep breaths. And I am exaggerating my level of addiction, so lay off! In the meantime, I'm going to go find some sugar, a beer and hopefully some Indian.

What not to do

The other day, this Canadian kid got into an altercation with some Vietnamese youths. I guess technically he was an "adult" since he looked to be eighteen or nineteen, but he certainly didn't act the part. Not too many people do. Including myself. So forget it, it was some Canadian dude, age doesn't matter.

He was trying to inquire about buying a moto. So the story goes. And then he offers 20,000 VND, which is just about $1.25. A funny joke perhaps to the potential buyer or an insult to the seller? Somehow rocks get thrown and the guy is chased away getting hailed upon by rocks of various sizes. He is not seriously injured, but has dried blood on his forehead and on his legs. So who is to blame? An interpreter is brought to the hotel to get his story.

You would think you would be as sincere and polite as possible. I mean it's your word versus that of ten or twenty Vietnamese guys. I wasn't there and don't know who was at fault, but looking at this guy, I would say him. Judging as usual, he was a skinny, red-headed stepchild who needed to be pelted by more rocks. A punk ass bitch if you will.

Here were some of the comments I heard him make to his interpreter. Obviously being an interpreter, the guy spoke English, but it was limited so again, you would think you would speak as simply as possible. You would think.

"So, what do you do, man?"

After hearing the interpreter's reply, which was inaudible:
"Cause you're dressed even nicer than me."
He was wearing baggy shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

Then the interpreter asked what he thought of Vietnam.
"Well, to be honest, I've been here too long and I'm getting kind of sick of it."

Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Jackfruit

This is a picture of a random produce stand at the market in Saigon. This stand did not have any jackfruit, one of my favorite new fruits. A jackfruit is an enormous specimen and when carved open, there are many smaller fruits inside. Or maybe they are seeds. Bear with me while I check Wikipedia.

Ok, I was right as usual. The jackfruit is the largest tree borne fruit in the world. Should I quote that? Or make a citation? Because I plagiarized. Anyway, there are many seeds within the large fruit and surrounding those seeds are "sweet yellow sheaths" that I am fond of consuming. They taste like a cross between a mango and a banana, but worse than a mango and better than a banana. The texture is like neither. I would say it's like a Twizzler, a little rubbery and squeaky on the teeth.

They also make jackfruit chips, which I have also taken a liking. I prefer the small bags because regardless of size, I will eat the entire thing. Recently, I took the time to read the bag and I have to say it is the funniest translation I have ever read. Here you are:

Throughout the entire process in making the chips, no chemicals are added to the chips at all. The fruits and vegetables are specially processed in order to ensure that their natural flavour and goodness are retained.

Ok, seriously it get's funny...

These products have also a good smelling and crunchy feature which gives a good taste and provide more nutritive facts, vitamins, mineral salt necessary to the organism and protecting from the extra glucoza.