This will be a concise post.
When I started writing all of the words had funny diacritics on them because the computer was in Vietnamese mode. So, anyway, when I left you last time, I had just gotten up from a nap, and I was eager to explore Hanoi some more.
So, I walked around, and ate some rice porridge from a nice old lady; it was a really small street food operation, just an old lady a pot and a single stool.
I decide I want to get a bus ticket to Halong Bay, and I have to hire a motorbike. Hanoi is one big 'no thank you' because the guys with motorbikes are always asking to give you a ride. They sit on the corner all day, just asking to give rides, I don't see how they make a living. So I hire this guy, and the traffic was crazy, my parents would have had a collective heart attack, but it was really fun. I wore a helmet. He dropped me at the wrong bus station, and I take the public bus, the 08, back. I see a large part of Hanoi with no tourists; but I hear they are not very accommodating to non-Vietnamese speakers. The lights and densely packed commerce reminded my of New York City. Hanoi has French coffee culture, and I saw a Cafe called 'Cafe Bodega'.
That night I wrote the previous Blog post.
The next day, I got coffee at an amazing Cafe that had been in business since 1936. It was tall, narrow, with steep staircases, and short stools. I rode over there on a motorbike with a seriously pretty girl from California, and we had our coffee on the third floor balcony. She has regrettably left Hanoi.
Later that day I saw the French quarter. The little public parks were just like those of Washington DC, except that the centerpieces (statues, etc) incorporated Asian elements; Imagine dragons adorning the fountain in DuPont Circle. There was a lot of French architecture, also similar to Washington, DC.
I went to a temple called the Temple of literature; the roofs were made of terra cotta scales; I can't make heads or tails of Asian roofs usually, so I was glad to see one that I understood. There were many large granite stones with Chinese inscriptions. Probably the most lovely Asian temple I have ever been to.
Went to the prison where John McCain was kept. Saw his flight suit. Pictures of American POWs having a good time, an obvious fabrication. The museum did a good job of explaining how bad it was to be a Vietnamese prisoner under the French, though.
Went to Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, but not the immaculately preserved man himself Saw guards in seriously good looking white uniforms.
Then did some sort of fun activity by the lake; I had been recruited by some people to help teach some Vietnamese kids some English; seriously fun and enthusiastic program organizers my age; I could never be that cheery and enthusiastic for so long, but I bet I could manage to somehow organize fun activities for kids; when I babysat, the kids thought I was good. Added some of the organizers on Facebook.
Yesterday, I was eating some great dumplings on the street, got into a convo with the Vietnamese girls to the right of me, she has great English, turns out she studies bioengineering at UC Berkeley, friended her on Facebook.
Vietnamese is hard; if you don't get the tones right for even things like 'Thank you' or the name of the street you live on, they won't even understand you. But I hear that the tones come with practice, and once you get them the grammar is easy, and writing is easy because they use the Western alphabet.
Photos coming eventually, my Hemingway-esque descriptions should suffice for now.
Baruch Hashem.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Hanoi: Some more, Till Day 2 Morning
So, we set off in this van, and I am sitting next to the other Western traveler. Things seem pretty normal, except for that there are more motorcycles on the road than normal. Overall, I am impressed by how modern the country seems;a big paved highway, with development all around me; this was in stark contrast to Myanmar, where the grittiness and vague incompleteness of the development implied seriously lacking economic development. The other traveler was Elena, from the Netherlands; she was on a fairly large break from work, travelling, spoke with an excellent Canadian accent, and is staying at the other branch of the hostel at which I am staying, but I have not seen her since.
We arrive at a really nice tree-lined lake in the middle of Hanoi, and I walk down the side; there is a red bridge to a temple in the middle of the lake, as well as a mini-pagoda in the middle of the lake; there are benches by the side of the lake, and everyone is having a good time. I buy some grapey-looking things from an old lady, and it turns out that they are mini-plums, and she puts a mixture of sugar and chili powder on them. I contentedly walk by the lake, eating my spicy little plums, sweating, and drinking some water.
Then I have to cross the street. There is a crosswalk, but no light, and there are motorcycles and cars going in both directions, except that within the directions, there is no semblance of lanes, or anything, they are just sort of doing what they want, so I just stand there as this mass of motorbikes glides by; meanwhile Vietnamese people are just casually walking through the mass of traffic, as if it is no big deal. Eventually there is a break, and I am able to run across, but it seemed like these people had some magical 'not getting hit by motorcycles' ability.
So, I am in the old city of Hanoi, and it is a huge mass of motorcycles, pedestrians, and larger vehicles, spilling onto the sidewalks; the buildings are majestic but faded, in a style that seems colonial, even though this part of the city dates back 1000 years. There are people sitting on little plastic chairs, spilling from the sidewalk onto the streets, eating some food. Shops are also spilling onto the sidewalks from the storefronts. Everything is spilling everywhere.
With the help of my great 3G SIM card, and the surprisingly excellent google maps coverage, I make it to the hostel without incident. Overall, it is a very nice place, for $8 a night you get a nice lounge area, breakfast, and a bed in a dorm. It has clean interior, with modern-ish architecture, and almost everyone is an incredibly attractive young person, just like myself.
I had originally booked at the other hostel, but switched my booking to this branch when it had one extra half star, but Elena had said her friends liked the other one better. But I didn't switch back, because that would be way too much changing my mind, sometimes I just have to stick with my nearly inconsequential decisions! The main difference is that this hostel can be pretty rowdy, and the other one is chilled out. There is thumping music coming from be bar (yes the hostel has a bar) as I type this. I read that it might be the biggest hostel in Southeast Asia. More on that later.
So, I go to my room, and get my stuff together, putting it in the locker. I decide to get lost, and just star walking; the streets are much like what I said before, a gloriously chaotic mess; I see people eating Pho, and I sit down and have some awesome Pho Ga, which means Chicken Pho. Really good. Chickeny, spiced perfectly, with some scallions. Though the streets are narrow, they still find room for trees with purple flowers. So, I just walk down the narrow streets and labyrinthine alleys, all of which have people on plastic chairs eating street food. Though the food is close to the street, the street is only a little bit dirty, in contrast to Yangon where it really seemed like a terrible idea to eat anything that had even got within a meter of the stinky, grimy street no matter how good the food looked.
The traffic here was way worse though. In Yangon, I saw a bumper sticker with the message 'Lane Driving is Safe Driving', but they make no pretenses of following that philosophy here.
I get back to the Hostel, and decide to have a few beers with the people; people from England, Australia, and quite a few people from Galway, Ireland. None of them knew my friend Joe, though. The beer was called Larue (they had it on tap), a very light beer; the thing is though, that it actually is drinkable, unlike the beer in the super bowl advertisements. They had a thing they flipped a coin, and got an extra drink if you were right; by patting the Irish people on the shoulder before I went, I was able to make my chances of winning to .75 from .5. The Irish people were OK with it, they laughed about it too. We we got some more Pho on the street. The slices of beef in the soupe were super fatty, but in a really good way, so as to be pleasing to the palate.
We then all went out to some other Western (not Cowboy, just Western in the sense of not Asian) style bar, and had a good time. There was a computer from which the patrons could put on songs, and I chose Soul Shakedown Party by Bob Marley. Yeah, going to western style Bar is not that authentic, but I am forced to go mainstream when I interact with other people.
I had a great time, but drank just enough to give me a headache during the free walking tour the next day (which was pretty good, but not great). I had to take a nap after that headachey tour in the hot sun, which was when I had another pretty serious adventure.
We arrive at a really nice tree-lined lake in the middle of Hanoi, and I walk down the side; there is a red bridge to a temple in the middle of the lake, as well as a mini-pagoda in the middle of the lake; there are benches by the side of the lake, and everyone is having a good time. I buy some grapey-looking things from an old lady, and it turns out that they are mini-plums, and she puts a mixture of sugar and chili powder on them. I contentedly walk by the lake, eating my spicy little plums, sweating, and drinking some water.
Then I have to cross the street. There is a crosswalk, but no light, and there are motorcycles and cars going in both directions, except that within the directions, there is no semblance of lanes, or anything, they are just sort of doing what they want, so I just stand there as this mass of motorbikes glides by; meanwhile Vietnamese people are just casually walking through the mass of traffic, as if it is no big deal. Eventually there is a break, and I am able to run across, but it seemed like these people had some magical 'not getting hit by motorcycles' ability.
So, I am in the old city of Hanoi, and it is a huge mass of motorcycles, pedestrians, and larger vehicles, spilling onto the sidewalks; the buildings are majestic but faded, in a style that seems colonial, even though this part of the city dates back 1000 years. There are people sitting on little plastic chairs, spilling from the sidewalk onto the streets, eating some food. Shops are also spilling onto the sidewalks from the storefronts. Everything is spilling everywhere.
With the help of my great 3G SIM card, and the surprisingly excellent google maps coverage, I make it to the hostel without incident. Overall, it is a very nice place, for $8 a night you get a nice lounge area, breakfast, and a bed in a dorm. It has clean interior, with modern-ish architecture, and almost everyone is an incredibly attractive young person, just like myself.
I had originally booked at the other hostel, but switched my booking to this branch when it had one extra half star, but Elena had said her friends liked the other one better. But I didn't switch back, because that would be way too much changing my mind, sometimes I just have to stick with my nearly inconsequential decisions! The main difference is that this hostel can be pretty rowdy, and the other one is chilled out. There is thumping music coming from be bar (yes the hostel has a bar) as I type this. I read that it might be the biggest hostel in Southeast Asia. More on that later.
So, I go to my room, and get my stuff together, putting it in the locker. I decide to get lost, and just star walking; the streets are much like what I said before, a gloriously chaotic mess; I see people eating Pho, and I sit down and have some awesome Pho Ga, which means Chicken Pho. Really good. Chickeny, spiced perfectly, with some scallions. Though the streets are narrow, they still find room for trees with purple flowers. So, I just walk down the narrow streets and labyrinthine alleys, all of which have people on plastic chairs eating street food. Though the food is close to the street, the street is only a little bit dirty, in contrast to Yangon where it really seemed like a terrible idea to eat anything that had even got within a meter of the stinky, grimy street no matter how good the food looked.
The traffic here was way worse though. In Yangon, I saw a bumper sticker with the message 'Lane Driving is Safe Driving', but they make no pretenses of following that philosophy here.
I get back to the Hostel, and decide to have a few beers with the people; people from England, Australia, and quite a few people from Galway, Ireland. None of them knew my friend Joe, though. The beer was called Larue (they had it on tap), a very light beer; the thing is though, that it actually is drinkable, unlike the beer in the super bowl advertisements. They had a thing they flipped a coin, and got an extra drink if you were right; by patting the Irish people on the shoulder before I went, I was able to make my chances of winning to .75 from .5. The Irish people were OK with it, they laughed about it too. We we got some more Pho on the street. The slices of beef in the soupe were super fatty, but in a really good way, so as to be pleasing to the palate.
We then all went out to some other Western (not Cowboy, just Western in the sense of not Asian) style bar, and had a good time. There was a computer from which the patrons could put on songs, and I chose Soul Shakedown Party by Bob Marley. Yeah, going to western style Bar is not that authentic, but I am forced to go mainstream when I interact with other people.
I had a great time, but drank just enough to give me a headache during the free walking tour the next day (which was pretty good, but not great). I had to take a nap after that headachey tour in the hot sun, which was when I had another pretty serious adventure.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Hanoi: Prologue
I will start with yesterday. I flew out of Singapore mostly without incident, but I had an overall feeling of unpreparedness; I had booked two nights in a hostel in the old quarter of Hanoi, but other than that, I had no idea what I am doing. The plane ride itself was fine; I tried to sleep; there were three seats for two people, which was nice. It was interesting seeing Vietnam through the plane window; I remember green colors, and red roofs.
So, we land, and we walk out to a large shuttle bus that takes us to the terminal. I come out, and I see the window where I have to apply for my Visa; I give them the approval letter, my passport, and the required form, and I give them $45 five minutes later, and my passport has a stamped visa.
I then go through immigration without incident, except for that the guy angrily tosses aside the receipt for the visa when I hand it to him with the passport.
I also walk through the 'nothing to declare' lane of customs without incident.
So, I get out into the arrivals area, and begin thinking of what I have to do;
I had changed money in Singapore, so I go into a bathroom stall to take some money from the plastic money pouch they gave me, and put it into my wallet. I go buy a SIM card, and I get a pretty good deal; unlimited data for a month, for about $15, but I will have to top up for more calling minutes.
There were several ways to get into the city; one was by taxi, and that costs a weterner about $15;
doing that, one has to be weary of scams. If you tell them the name of your hotel, they will take you to it, pretend to somehow find out that it is actually full, and then take you to a fake hotel of poor quality, and you realize how much of a fool you are when you wake up the next morning.
I didn't take a cab.
There are also public buses, but I neglected to take those, even though they are the cheapest option.
Instead, I took a minibus run by Vietnam airlines; for 40,000 Dong (~2 USD) they take you to the Vietnam airlines offices in Hanoi, which is only a medium walk away from my hostel. Taking that didn't go 100% smoothly, though.
I see the line of minibuses, and I get into the biggest one, which is empty, mostly. I sit there for a while, and I ask the guy (who I already knew spoke English) "so when is this thing leaving?". He says 'oh, whenever it fills up'.
"oh, so is it better to get on a smaller one?'
"yeah, sometimes".
So I just sit there waiting for a little while longer, and decide to get off, and onto a smaller one. I do that, and then the driver says 'why are you going there?' (in broken English; If I used words to mimic the way he sounded, it might come off as racist, so I am just typing in gramatically correct English even though it was broken English in reality). He continues "same as this one" (the one I was just on). I ask "oh, so when is it leaving?". He says "15 minutes". I grudgingly get back on, and I sit there in indecision, not wanting to be a pushy, grumpy western tourist, but not wanting to wait an hour on a still mostly empty minibus. Another Western tourist, a woman, gets on, and leaves her pack at the front of the bus. At this point we don't say anything. I then see one of the smaller buses leave full of passengers, so I get annoyed and decide to look for the public bus. So, I get out and look around for a while for the public bus, asking people. When I look back about seven minutes later, the minubus that I had been on had disappeared!
So, I walk down the terminal, to where the buses were, 'about a kilometer a way'. I should mention that it was over 100 degrees and humid; far worse than anything I had ever experienced in Singapore. At some point, I see another large minibus. The guy is like 'two dollars, Hanoi, want to get on?' and I think 'oh no I am not falling for this again' (somewhat irrational, because if I had been patient before, I could have been gone already) I say, 'when is it leaving?' and he says 'five minutes'. I think 'yeah right'. But then I ask someone else 'do you know where the 07 or 17 public busses are?' and he says 'no have'. So I figuratively say 'fuck it', and get on the second minibus. Then I notice that the Western tourist lady has switched minibuses, and is now on this one; I guess she got fed up with wasting too. Then I notice that the Vietnamese businessman who I had originally talked to had done the same thing. And then I realize that this was the same bus as I was on before, and that it had just driven down the terminal to pick up domestic passengers. I pay by 40K Dong, sit next to the other Western tourist, and we head off.
So, we land, and we walk out to a large shuttle bus that takes us to the terminal. I come out, and I see the window where I have to apply for my Visa; I give them the approval letter, my passport, and the required form, and I give them $45 five minutes later, and my passport has a stamped visa.
I then go through immigration without incident, except for that the guy angrily tosses aside the receipt for the visa when I hand it to him with the passport.
I also walk through the 'nothing to declare' lane of customs without incident.
So, I get out into the arrivals area, and begin thinking of what I have to do;
I had changed money in Singapore, so I go into a bathroom stall to take some money from the plastic money pouch they gave me, and put it into my wallet. I go buy a SIM card, and I get a pretty good deal; unlimited data for a month, for about $15, but I will have to top up for more calling minutes.
There were several ways to get into the city; one was by taxi, and that costs a weterner about $15;
doing that, one has to be weary of scams. If you tell them the name of your hotel, they will take you to it, pretend to somehow find out that it is actually full, and then take you to a fake hotel of poor quality, and you realize how much of a fool you are when you wake up the next morning.
I didn't take a cab.
There are also public buses, but I neglected to take those, even though they are the cheapest option.
Instead, I took a minibus run by Vietnam airlines; for 40,000 Dong (~2 USD) they take you to the Vietnam airlines offices in Hanoi, which is only a medium walk away from my hostel. Taking that didn't go 100% smoothly, though.
I see the line of minibuses, and I get into the biggest one, which is empty, mostly. I sit there for a while, and I ask the guy (who I already knew spoke English) "so when is this thing leaving?". He says 'oh, whenever it fills up'.
"oh, so is it better to get on a smaller one?'
"yeah, sometimes".
So I just sit there waiting for a little while longer, and decide to get off, and onto a smaller one. I do that, and then the driver says 'why are you going there?' (in broken English; If I used words to mimic the way he sounded, it might come off as racist, so I am just typing in gramatically correct English even though it was broken English in reality). He continues "same as this one" (the one I was just on). I ask "oh, so when is it leaving?". He says "15 minutes". I grudgingly get back on, and I sit there in indecision, not wanting to be a pushy, grumpy western tourist, but not wanting to wait an hour on a still mostly empty minibus. Another Western tourist, a woman, gets on, and leaves her pack at the front of the bus. At this point we don't say anything. I then see one of the smaller buses leave full of passengers, so I get annoyed and decide to look for the public bus. So, I get out and look around for a while for the public bus, asking people. When I look back about seven minutes later, the minubus that I had been on had disappeared!
So, I walk down the terminal, to where the buses were, 'about a kilometer a way'. I should mention that it was over 100 degrees and humid; far worse than anything I had ever experienced in Singapore. At some point, I see another large minibus. The guy is like 'two dollars, Hanoi, want to get on?' and I think 'oh no I am not falling for this again' (somewhat irrational, because if I had been patient before, I could have been gone already) I say, 'when is it leaving?' and he says 'five minutes'. I think 'yeah right'. But then I ask someone else 'do you know where the 07 or 17 public busses are?' and he says 'no have'. So I figuratively say 'fuck it', and get on the second minibus. Then I notice that the Western tourist lady has switched minibuses, and is now on this one; I guess she got fed up with wasting too. Then I notice that the Vietnamese businessman who I had originally talked to had done the same thing. And then I realize that this was the same bus as I was on before, and that it had just driven down the terminal to pick up domestic passengers. I pay by 40K Dong, sit next to the other Western tourist, and we head off.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Interesting Day
The title is a bit redundant. But anyway; I have been living in a super cheap hostel (like $10 a night) for the past week, waiting for the people in Shanghai, where I will be doing scientific research this summer, to finally send me the paperwork for my Visa. The hostel is clean, but a very minimal operation. They finally did, and I applied on Thursday, I think, and I will be picking it up on Wednesday: the day before my student's pass expires. Then on Thursday, the 22nd, the day that my student's pass actually expires, I will be flying to Hanoi, for some as-of-yet unplanned adventures.
...
So, I got up at around 11, with no real plan. After taking a shower and brushing my teeth, I headed down to the little corner cafe (really a food court with 4 or so stalls) for a lunch-breakfast. For the past week I have been ordering a teh-ping (see a previous blog post for explanation) every day, so this morning they guessed what I wanted. I also had some sort of Malay fried noodles. It was a lot of carbs.
When I got back, I acted as money-changer for a nearly broke French guy who was just travelling in Indonesia. Took his Rupiya's and gave him my SGD so that he could at least afford to get around the city before his flight home (which reportedly was at 5 pm my time).
I then went ahead and visited Geylang Road, really a historical area of the city, with interesting colonial architecture...
I got a super-sweet almond beverage. It was good.
At this point I was reminding myself of my travel philosophy; you don't really need a plan, just go where you feel like it, and you will see something interesting. A corollary to this is "If things can't be good, they can at least be interesting". I came to this MRT station with no idea what I would find, but I was still having a good time.
At this point it is dark out, and I keep wandering. It is clear that this is a neighborhood where South Asian (i.e. probably Tamil Nadu + Bangladesh, but many other places too) workers live. There are a lot of industrial warehouses and factories, and I can see that there are people still working, even though it is Sunday night.
There was definitely a little mini street economy going on, as evidenced by a small barber tent with hair flowing onto the sidewalk. The area was covered in trash, comared to the rest of Singapore.
I will admit that I felt a little bit out-of place, being the only white Guy. But I thought of the time that my family went to a restaurant in Arlington called Pupuseria Doña Azucena; the situation was similar, and no one cared. For the most part they guys just ignored me.
What I was looking for was a place where all the guys would be hanging out. I found it; the tables were covered in empty beers and dirty plates, and they were all watching some Bollywood movie. I got a plate of good Indian food, and a Tiger beer. They commented on how I was eating my food with my right hand, like an Indian.
Tomorrow, I am getting up a bit earlier, and will be going to the wetland reserve with my friend from France (not the broke guy mentioned above).
...
So, I got up at around 11, with no real plan. After taking a shower and brushing my teeth, I headed down to the little corner cafe (really a food court with 4 or so stalls) for a lunch-breakfast. For the past week I have been ordering a teh-ping (see a previous blog post for explanation) every day, so this morning they guessed what I wanted. I also had some sort of Malay fried noodles. It was a lot of carbs.
When I got back, I acted as money-changer for a nearly broke French guy who was just travelling in Indonesia. Took his Rupiya's and gave him my SGD so that he could at least afford to get around the city before his flight home (which reportedly was at 5 pm my time).
I then went ahead and visited Geylang Road, really a historical area of the city, with interesting colonial architecture...
The three proceeding images are of buildings that were probably built in the 1920s (I know this because one of them had a date on it). Take a look at this building built in th 1930's, though:
Can you see the Art-Deco influence? It is art-deco-British Colonial-Malay fusion.
An aside on Singapore architecture; a lot of the old buildings have a very narrowly-winding spiral staircase in-back, including the hostel that I am staying at. Here are some example-pictures that I took (first one in an area called Bugis, second in Geylang).
Overall Geylang road had a bunch of interesting shops selling Chinese medicine and things like that, and good-looking Chinese restaurants.
Oh. And Geylang is also the red light district. Here is a blurry image of a restaurant filled with creepy Chinese men and prostitutes;
 |
| not all of the restaurants were like this |
Anyway, having seen that side of town, I thought that I would visit a wetlands reserve, but it was getting late in the day. I needed to figure out how to get there, but I was out of pre-paid data for google maps, so I decided to take the MRT to city hall and find a 7-11 for a mobile top-up. The thing is though, that instead of just asking where the nearest 7-11 is, I started wandering around aimlessly, just hoping to run into one, so I wasted a bit of time in some uber-rich Singaporean underground (as in actual physical location) supermalls. At one point I saw an open area in an MRT station where people were roller blading and break dancing;
B y the time I found one (having asked), my cellphone was almost out of power anyway, and I realized that the wetlands reserves would be closing soon anyway, and they were kind of far away. But I just decided to take the MRT in that direction because I knew that there were some other natural attractions in that direction.
But my phone ran out of power, so I wound up at the remote Kranji MRT station, with no plans or ideas what to do. So, I took the bus, got off, and started walking around. The first thing I noticed was that the demographics were different than in the other parts of the city; it was about 85% south asian men, probably foreign workers. I went to a hawker center (food court) and got an egg Thosai, a kind of Indian pancake. I ate it using only my bare right hand, which is good manners in India. I kept on walking around. I found several Indian groceries where they were playing Indian music; it felt like India.
At this point I was reminding myself of my travel philosophy; you don't really need a plan, just go where you feel like it, and you will see something interesting. A corollary to this is "If things can't be good, they can at least be interesting". I came to this MRT station with no idea what I would find, but I was still having a good time.
At this point it is dark out, and I keep wandering. It is clear that this is a neighborhood where South Asian (i.e. probably Tamil Nadu + Bangladesh, but many other places too) workers live. There are a lot of industrial warehouses and factories, and I can see that there are people still working, even though it is Sunday night.
There was definitely a little mini street economy going on, as evidenced by a small barber tent with hair flowing onto the sidewalk. The area was covered in trash, comared to the rest of Singapore.
I will admit that I felt a little bit out-of place, being the only white Guy. But I thought of the time that my family went to a restaurant in Arlington called Pupuseria Doña Azucena; the situation was similar, and no one cared. For the most part they guys just ignored me.
What I was looking for was a place where all the guys would be hanging out. I found it; the tables were covered in empty beers and dirty plates, and they were all watching some Bollywood movie. I got a plate of good Indian food, and a Tiger beer. They commented on how I was eating my food with my right hand, like an Indian.
Tomorrow, I am getting up a bit earlier, and will be going to the wetland reserve with my friend from France (not the broke guy mentioned above).
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