And now, a story about kittens

Kitty 1: I believe this helmet will be a perfect place to take a nap. And it's Ruth's, and she doesn't like us kittens. Even better. (Promptly curls up and falls asleep)


Kitten 2: I can has warm cozy helmet?!


Kitten 2: Ah, yes. Very comfortabuhls.


They are cute little monsters, aren't they?

A differing of values

On a gorgeous, sunny Saturday such as this one, my first impulse is to don a tank top, shorts, flip flops, and shades, slather on some sunscreen, and head outside. I come from a city where being bronzed and blond is the thing to do, and while I have never emulated those orange-skinned peroxide blond starlets on the covers of the tabloids, I do believe that a little glow looks healthy. Not that I've ever really been able to achieve that, but no matter. I don't stop trying.

However, here it is just the opposite. Grocery stores, pharmacies, and beauty salons sell "whitening cream"--in fact, pretty much every skin product you get, whether it's a cleanser or a lotion or something, will probably advertise that it will whiten your skin as well. People don't want to be tan, they want to be pale and pink-skinned. So today, all the women on motorbikes (besides me) are in long-sleeved shirts or t-shirts with long gloves on, socks on under their sandals. Those walking around have umbrellas and big floppy hats. In short, no skin exposed.

It certainly is interesting to be a pale-skinned, pseudo-blond girl in this city. I don't care how admired my paleness is here; I'm heading outside.

Sunday Excursion

Jan and I went to Giac Lam Pagoda, which is apparently one of the oldest Buddhist temples in the city. This pagoda, which I think is a stupa to house relics (It's amazing how much I know about Buddhism now, what with the book I'm working on), is one of the tallest buildings in the city, at 7 stories. That gives you an idea of the shortness of the places--no skyscrapers here. And it's pretty flat, like Chicago.

Anyway, the temple itself was a little disappointing; there were a lot of statues of Buddha and a TON of incense burning, but I think we felt like we were imposing. The best part: an older monk walking around smiled at Jan and gestured to his own face, and then made the thumbs-up sign. I think he was saying Jan has a handsome face, which of course I interpreted as "Omg, Jan! I think that monk just hit on you!" To which Jan was like, "Hey cool, whatever." He's a
pretty laid-back dude.

We walked in, hoping to be able to climb to the top, but the stairs were gated. Then an older woman gestured for us to go on up, starting the typical exchange of us gesturing to say "Are you sure? It's ok?" And she kept gesturing "Go, go." So we went. And this is the view of the city. This is not the direction of where I live, but it's the nicest shot I got that gives a good impression of the city. We just barely missed seeing the sunset, but I got a good picture of the post-sunset sky.

Then we descended and felt hungry, so we went
to--wait for it--KFC. Yep. Got some fried chicken and ice cream, and enjoyed it. I don't think I've had KFC in the states since middle school, when we had it for hot lunches. Jo and I did get it once in Paris, in a moment of weakness. And we both felt terribly guilty about it for a second or two, and then we tore into our drumsticks and felt better.

In any event, that was my Sunday. Pretty cool, I think. And tonight I'm going to a pub called Le Pub (very original) where they have a Trivia Night! And it's on Tuesdays, just like the one at the U of C Pub. Weird, huh? Although, Tuesday night here is Tuesday morning there, so it's not exactly at the same time, but still. I think it's cool. So I'm going to go to that and hopefully drag Jan and Ruth along with me.

Gotta bone up on my useless knowledge.

Dragonfruit, coffee, and commercial zoning

I am loving the fruit here. The tropical climate produces all sorts of funky fruits, and my current favorite is dragonfruit. And it's pretty!

I am also a fan of what the Vietnamese call "chom chom" (I have no idea how that's spelled); they're kind of like lychees (lichees?) but they're more colorful and spikier on the outside. Mmmm...

And this is what gets me through the day--well, about four of these:

Vietnamese coffee, for those who haven't had it, is strong and sweet. (For the Chicago folks, if you go to Noodles on 57th, they make a good cup of it.) You can get it iced or hot from street vendors, and I get an iced one every morning and then make a bunch more at work.

I'm not really going to write about commercial zoning, but I have observed something that seems like zoning in this city, except that I can't imagine why the government would want to do so in this way. To preface this, what I noticed (and got spoiled by) in Paris was the proximity of everything. Within a few-block radius of anywhere you were bound to find at least one pharmacy, lock & key, small grocery, hair salon, bakery, etc. While Ho Chi Minh City is not huge, it is not so easy to just walk out the door and find what you need. You will never find just one store selling something, but rather 5 or 6 in a row; in my neighborhood, for example, you will find almost nothing but motorbike mechanics. I have seen whole blocks selling nothing but furniture, guitars, car parts, baby food, bike helmets, and--weirdly enough--model ships. It's like the only way to compete with a business is to open one next door. Moreover, with the lack of public transportation and the tricky-to-navigate sidewalks, it means that if I do need to go over to the furniture neighborhood I have to hail a xe om (that's the motorbike taxi) and pay to go there. I actually am going to try to walk over to get some furniture tomorrow, and we'll see what happens. First I have to find the right street.

Where I Live

I thought I'd give you a brief tour of the place. Sorry for the washed-out look; we do, in fact, have florescent lighting (which sucks, but is easily remedied with tricky light coverings) and I used the flash to take these.

This is my room, seen from the doorway. Not that big, but I've got plenty of space. Need to get some furniture--some drawers would be nice, or a cheap desk--but we'll see. I also need to deal with those big blank walls; I never feel quite at home until I've got things to look at. White walls make me uncomfortable.
Here's the kitchen area. Once again, I'm living somewhere without an oven, but I'll deal. Not many of us cook in this house...not even myself yet, beyond ramen. Which doesn't really count.
On the other side of the stairs from the kitchen is the living room area: couple of couches, a shelf for shoes, a TV, and moped parking. Lots of space. We want to have a party sometime in the near future.
And lastly, trouble 1 and trouble 2. Garlic and Ginger--I still can't tell them apart, no matter how many times Maraj tells me their differences. I couldn't get a good photo of the big cat, Chili. Obviously, this is going to lead somewhere dangerous:
Kitties are kind of exhausting because they always have to be watched; it's so easy for them to get into something they shouldn't, or pee somewhere they shouldn't. You can't just let them be...I can't, anyway. I worry too much. That, and I have the scratches to prove how difficult they can be to remove from trouble.

In any event, that's the rundown. To end, I wanted to stick in a quotation from one of my favorite books ever, which I am now in the process of rereading: Salman Rushdie's The Ground Beneath Her Feet.

"We underestimate our fellow humans because we underestimate ourselves. They--we--are capable of being much more than we seem. Many of us are able to answer life's darkest questions. We just don't know if we can come up with the answers to the riddles until we're asked."

Looking up

Just want to reassure you guys who are following along, that I'm starting to feel more positive about my housemate situation. Tonight I hung out with one roommate, yesterday I hung out with another...slowly, we are getting to know each other. Even the kittens seem more comfortable around me. And we've fixed the internet problem, so I just put pictures on Facebook, and I'll be updating them more regularly. Yay!

I must say, I have the greatest friends. It helps a lot that I can talk to you guys using the wonders of the internet ("Technology means magic!") and keep up. It's not so lonely when you can always check in with such good people. You don't know how much it means to me. Thank you.

More to come. Love, peace, and chicken grease,

A

ok, this makes things a little better

There are 2 of these, each about the size of a fist. They are sisters, named Garlic and Ginger, but I can't tell them apart. this one fell asleep in my suitcase and the other one fell asleep in my lap. And there is a larger cat named Chili. She has only half a tail, and might be pregnant. We're not sure.

I think she's picking up radio signals with those ears.

There's no place like home?

Well, day 1 in my new house is not looking so good. When talking to the girl who gave me the tour, it sounded like people kind of hung out together, but that doesn't really seem to be the case. Maraj and Jan went out (separately), Thi is upstairs in her room, and Ruth and her boyfriend (who enjoys not being clothed) have been blaring rap music all day with the door open. I know it's early, I just moved here, but I feel like an outsider and I don't have an "inside" anywhere. Being me, I worry about money a lot (even though it's cheap here), so I don't want to just go out somewhere by myself (What would I do? Eat? Shop? Wander around? This city is weird to wander around, because people stare and approach you trying to sell you things...) I miss being in the hotel because there the people were at least nice to me and pretended to care what I was doing. And offered me coffee and bananas.

When I first got to Paris, I had like a big panic attack of questions--can I do this? can I make it here? And that didn't really happen when I first got here...in general, I immediately liked it, but the whole experience felt temporary, since I was in a hotel. But now that I'm here, where I'm going to be living for the next year, and no one seems to give a shit about me, I'm panicking. What if I just end up living in my room, not talking to my roommates? The cats don't even care what I do. They like Maraj better.

And my phone's broken and the internet doesn't really work in my room, so I feel even more disconnected from the world. Tonight I'm going to get out--go to Bui Vien, where the hotel is and where there are more backpackers and I feel less like I stick out like a sore thumb. And I'll just hope this situation gets better. I just feel like I can't relax in this place yet, because I don't feel like I belong.

Deep breaths.

Update: Went out, bought a new phone (just decided that I'll have to chalk up buying the old one to me being foreign and unused to the value of the currency here and to people trying to rip you off), and then went to Julia's for dinner and America's Next Top Model. Got back, and Thi and Ruth were nice to me! This is progress. I'm hanging in there.

It's like they know me

I was going to post this a few days ago, but then the wedding thing happened and that got priority. At this hotel, when they change the sheets they also sometimes change the pillows, and a few days ago I got back from work to find this on the bed:

I stopped and got a huge goofy grin on my face. Because I am a total nerd. In another episode of cuteness, I got tissues at the supermarket to fight off my cold, and these are the ones I chose:

That's right. Adorable dinosaur, elephant, and whale. Yup. This way, every time I need to blow my nose, I get to look at something cute, and smile.

In other news, I have found a place to live! I move in tomorrow night. It's a room in a big, tall house (luckily, my room is up only one flight, versus the six I have to climb to get to my hotel room) with 4 other people: 3 girls (from Denmark, Ireland, and here) and one guy (from Luxembourg). It sounds very "Auberge Espagnol," I know. We'll see. For $200 a month, though, I get full use of the house, which includes a washing machine, cable, internet, air conditioning, and the best part: kittens. Yes, kittens. I walked in to see the place and there was a scrawny cat on the stairs, and then when we went to the roof (There is a roof terrace! The girl giving me the tour said they like sunbathing up there and grilling. Sounds awesome.) there were 2 little white kittens who they had just rescued! They were romping around and chasing each other, and then while I was talking to the girl I felt something tickle my toes--a kitten was licking my toes. Seriously. I was totally sold. And the room's great, too.

I just realized that the theme of this post seems to be cuteness....kind of the theme of my life, you might say. In any event, I will be posting pictures here and on Facebook as soon as Facebook lets me.

Riding sidesaddle to a wedding

I promise the title will be explained. But let me say that as I wrote that I smiled at the Western-movie feel; the heroine yells, "I'm a-gonna ride sidesaddle to my weddin'!" and rides off into the sunset.

So. I am new here, as you all know, and thus just getting to know the people with whom I work. I was told by my fellow intern Julia that one of the Vietnamese women from the office was getting married, and that she was throwing a party to celebrate. I assumed it was like a pre-wedding party, a wedding shower of sorts, not too formal but not too casual. Just a big happy party.

I knew that it would start around 6:45, so I got off work at 5 and went straight home (via motorbike taxi, which I still love, but more on that later) to change into a dress. I got a call from Julia telling me where to go, and I headed downstairs where Ha, the woman at the front desk, helped me hail another motorbike taxi (my usual guy not having been warned...I have a usual guy! ahem, sorry, I just like the idea that I have a "driver." On a motorcycle.). Since I was wearing a dress, I knew I might have some...difficulty with the risk of indecent exposure on the bike. I'd seen some women riding sidesaddle, so I decided to throw caution to the wind (whoa, pun not intended) and try it. I hopped on cautiously, held my dress between my knees to fight off the wind, put one hand on the back of the bike, and held on for dear life. Did I mention it was raining? It was raining. So we jostled and splashed around until we arrived at a big giant fancy-looking hotel, where I paid the guy and was left.

This was definitely not just a party. It was a full-on, big production Vietnamese wedding reception. And when I say big production, I truly mean it. I found my coworkers all at one table, accepted that for me this would not be a social affair (since I really knew only Julia and my boss, and since I could not communicate with other people) and decided to sit back and take it all in.

This had everything. Bridesmaids and groomsmen carrying giant sparklers, bubbles coming out of the ceiling, towers of balloons that were popped at just the right time to terrify any small children in attendance, a champagne glass tower with dry ice (and no one drank the champagne), the ceremonial cutting of the cake (which happened before dinner, and which also no one ate), and then a lot of people getting drunk, like at every wedding. They were serving beer, and I swear that every time anyone took one tiny sip there was a waiter at your elbow waiting to fill the void in your glass. That, and every few minutes groups of happy wedding guests would do a Vietnamese drinking chant that basically means, "1, 2, 3, GO!" and chug their beer. Which would be promptly refilled.

After a big procession of the wedding party (with the sparklers and bubbles and popping balloons), and many many words were said, and the champagne was poured and the cake was cut, there was some sort of big announcement and the side doors to the banquet hall burst open. In comes a parade of waiters, as momentous movie music is playing, with trays to distribute. We are rushed through 5 courses in an hour and then suddenly everyone is leaving. It was kind of eerie: no one really paid attention to the announcements and the ceremony because they were too busy drinking and carousing, and then we all inhaled our food and left, just like that.

Thus, about an hour and a half after getting there, Julia and I shared a cab home. It was definitely an interesting experience, I'll give you that. I got free food AND a spectacle. And potentially a lot of beer; Julia and I started putting our hands over our glasses when lurking waiters approached. A good call, I think. But I wasn't about to attempt sidesaddle again, not in the steady rain.

An adventure, to say the least.

first few days: random anecdotes

I was walking around District 1, where my hotel is, and came across this monkey in a cage. It has the most solemn eyes ever. I took a few pictures, but the last one used a flash, and I think it bothered him. There was no one around, but I was afraid I'd get in some sort of trouble, so I walked away.

...

I've been eating almost nothing but Pho, which is Vietnamese noodle soup. As someone who has always maintained that I could live on Ramen, it's like some form of heaven.


Today I also rode on my first motorbike taxi. You pretty much hop on the back and they take you anywhere for a few bucks. But the first time I tried to nonchalantly hop on, the driver wasn't ready and I tipped the whole bike over. Everyone watching laughed at me, I laughed at me, the driver laughed at me. Now I'm that silly American who can't get on a bike.

I've already written about traffic and how terrifying it looks. Well, riding in it is surprisingly fun, as long as you trust your driver. I was on the back in my little helmet (btw, I have to buy my own, and I want one with character--I'm thinking, pink and sparkly!), with this goofy grin on my face, thinking "wheeeeeeee!" Looking forward to doing it again tomorrow.

Hello, Vietnam traffic

I am here! And there are a lot of things noted in my first impression, but right now I'll go into traffic.
Traffic is INSANE. Cars, motorbikes, regular bikes, buses, pedestrians--any sort of lane line or crosswalk or anything seems more like a guideline, even the double yellows. And when merging, the merging car just kind of honks as it merges, and the car already in the lane honks back, and it's sort of a game of chicken until one car gives in so they don't crash. But seriously, my taxi driver was this tiny little old man who drove like a tiny little old man, and I was sitting in the backseat doing that phantom brake thing with my foot as we had several near-death experiences. And mostly not my death, but other people's--motorcyclists, pedestrians...utterly insane.

In general, I've only been here an hour so I don't want to make any snap judgments. I'm tired and overwhelmed by all the honking.

Stay tuned...

Homeward Bound

Californiaaaaaaa, Californiaaaaaaaaaaa, here we COOOOOOOOOooooooooome...

goin' home tomorrow. home!

my dad got followed by a bear today. this is not relevant to Vietnam, but is kind of interesting.

i'm tired. k bye!