This garish red is far too bright to be either me or Jackie. These feet must belong to my aunt Thuy. 

My life, of late

So, a quick update: nothing new. Still teaching and still editing for Vietnam Investment Review and the golf magazine (the horror, the horror. I write headlines like "The Bold and the Beautiful" and "Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright"). The weather’s turned colder and it wouldn’t be so bad except that as motorbike/moped is the most common way of getting around, there’s no protection from the wind slamming into your face.

The bird flu furor has died down a bit since I last wrote. For awhile selling chicken was banned from all major cities (although I know at least one Indian place that never stopped serving chicken tikka masala), but some of the larger supermarkets were recently allowed to start selling chicken again. They presumably come from unaffected provinces. Still, I won’t order any chicken. Although there should be no problem if the food is cooked, the ones likely to get bird flu are those who slaughter the bird and prepare the food, so I’ll do my part not to put them at risk.

The government is taking the H5N1 virus seriously. If they find one case of bird flu in a town, they’ll destroy all the birds there. I recall watching a VTV news segment that showed people throwing ducks into a burning pit. It was pretty sad, actually, watching as the now black-feathered birds tried futilely to get out. The government reimburses the farmers, but farmers only get a fraction of what the birds are worth.

And last of all, my sister is coming for a visit! And my Northwestern buddy Andrea as well. I’m thrilled to have a reminder of home during the holidays. Not only that, but Jackie’s bringing Miracle Whip and ranch dressing. The only thing more American is apple pie.

Born to be wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiild...

Seriously, driving a motorbike in Hanoi is a brave new world.

When I came here, the one thing I said I would not do, under any circumstances, was drive a motorbike (mopeds back in the States). There are thousands of motorbikes and the only thing that seems to be lacking on the streets is, well, order. Remember, when I first got here I couldn’t even cross the street without a slight fear for my life.

So every time I get on my bike I’m a little bit amazed I’m doing it. After months of empty streets past midnight, I finally ventured onto the streets in the middle of the day and things just made sense. There are some rules here: follow the crowd, there’s safety in numbers; avoid all cars and by God, don’t get near the buses, they’re vicious; keep one eye constantly to your right in case a motorbike’s about to come careening out of some side alley, and slow down for the intersections where everybody is driving at once. It’s almost like being in a crowded mall or amusement park where you’re pushing past people saying “excuse me, excuse me,” except you’re on motorbikes, bikes shouldn’t actually touch, and no one says “excuse me, excuse me.” In fact, I know from experience they can take off a small piece of your pinkie and not even turn to see the look on your face.

But it is a pure thrill driving around Hanoi. I feel like such a local, except I’m going so slow I’m behind the bikers (and that’s an issue for another day. Frickin’ bikers should know their place isn’t the middle of the road). I rent a piece of shit Sym Power from Taiwan. Our first week together, a new thing stopped working each day: the ignition, gas gauge, horn and turn signal. That’s what you get for trying to save VND100,000 ($6.32) a month by not upgrading to the ubiquitous Honda Wave. I cursed and swore I’d get a Wave as soon as the month was up, but now I can’t let this piece of shit go. It’s really got a hold on me.


What picture blog entry would be complete without a cheesy shot of me?


And from the side...I no longer wear that awful helmet in the basket, by the way. I bought a much cooler one that completely covers my head and face, and no one can see me. I'm practicing taking it off in slow motion and shaking my hair out so that everyone realizes there's actually a hot chick underneath.


More traffic


And more...


And just in case you haven't had your fill of traffic yet.

There was a war? Oh, yeah

My friend Andrea, who is coming for a visit, wrote a letter recently where she talked about the Vietnam War (called the American War here). It’s funny to me that when Americans think of Vietnam they seem to think mostly of the war, when the Vietnamese are just focused on getting ahead. Every other article I read in Vietnam Investment Review is about the country’s economic reforms, all the foreign investment that Vietnam’s getting, what the country needs to do to join the WTO, etc. It seems like the war’s a distant memory, its remnants kept alive mainly for tourists.

But every now and then I’ll see a reminder. My former tutor once asked what I thought of the fact the U.S. wouldn’t compensate for dropping Agent Orange all over Vietnam’s forests. My aunt, while explaining a grammar concept, used the example, “The Americans dropped heavy bombs on Vietnam.” And my friend’s husband’s name is Chien Tranh, or “war.” His mother went into labor while hiding in the bushes as French planes dropped bombs not too far away.*

So the war memories are there. Sometimes there’ll be a soap opera or music video with actors who are clearly supposed to be soldiers (although I’m surprised at the amount of makeup Vietnamese female soldiers wore). One of the main streets near my house is Kham Thien, which caused an uproar in the States when it was bombed. My current tutor said the Kham Thien bombing killed many civilians, mostly the very old and young. Now I just see it as a perpetually busy street that’s a pain in the ass to drive on.

*I originally wrote had his name wrong (Chien Thang instead of Chien Tranh) and also had the war wrong, claiming it was the Americans and not the French who bombed away. Chien did fight in the American War, though.

"My shoulder hurts...do you think I have bird flu?"

Okay, despite my seemingly casual attitude toward all things pandemic, I gotta admit, I'm a little worried. It's hard not to be with the constant drumbeat of news about "it's not IF there's a pandemic, but WHEN". The first thing my editor greeted me with today was, "Vietnam just confirmed another bird flu death" - this time a Hanoi man who lives in MY district. He ate a chicken bought from a local market, developed symptoms, and died a few days later (although nine family members who ate the chicken with him haven't shown any symptoms).

So I inwardly freaked (or not-so-inwardly, if you count the piercing shrieks that permeated the newsroom.). Just yesterday I ate grilled chicken in a neighboring district! Up until this morning, I heard that you couldn't get bird flu from properly cooked chicken (and you possibly still can't; I don't know how his chicken was prepared). But it's a cause for concern and I've sworn off all chicken. Still on the fence about eggs.

When I first came here six months ago, bird flu made an occasional appearance in the news, but it wasn't a huge concern. I saw chickens walking around on sidewalks in the Old Quarter and on Nguyen Thai Hoc, a big street, and laughed to think how unconcerned people were.

Now you definitely won't see chickens strolling about. The government has banned the popular duck blood pudding (truly as DELICIOUS as it sounds...kidding), and the Health Ministry recently advised people not to eat chicken at all. My relatives in the city won't eat it, the street that specializes in grilled chicken is now quiet, and yesterday a restaurant informed us they no longer serve chicken.

I'm still trying to get a feel for what people know. One of the Vietnam Investment Review reporters wrote an article last week that claimed, "Bird flu has appeared in countries like Indonesia and Taiwan. Indonesia has had dozens of deaths and recently reported four more deaths." I changed this to "Bird flu has appeared in Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia and Vietnam. Indonesia recently reported four deaths that pushed the total number of deaths to 62. According to the World Health Organisation, Vietnam has had 41 deaths from bird flu" (although since then the numbers have risen slightly).

I asked my teenage class if they heard of any bird flu deaths in Vietnam. One boy actually said there weren't any yet. The other students quickly corrected him, but some of them were quoting figures like six deaths. Bird flu re-emerged in Vietnam in December 2003 and Vietnam now has 42 bird flu deaths - out of 64 worldwide (65.6 percent). Vietnam has also had 92 human cases out of 125 confirmed by the WHO (73.6 percent).

Anyway, here are some WHO figures, as of Nov. 9. WHO only counts cases which have been confirmed in their laboratory.

CAMBODIA:
4 cases
4 deaths

THAILAND:
20 cases
13 deaths

INDONESIA:
9 cases
5 deaths
*On Nov. 9 Indonesia reported a death it believes is due to bird flu, but this has yet to be confirmed by WHO

VIETNAM:
92 cases
42 deaths

TOTAL:
125 cases
64 deaths

No, I don't have the bird flu...

...although I guess you could say it IS too early to tell.

Sorry for not writing in so long. I'll just give a quick update.

So we moved into the house I mentioned; the owner relented, but on terms more favorable to her (three months' rent in advance and a month's deposit). The house isn't perfect, but we're happy in it. There's me, Patrick (24, also an American Viet Kieu), Daniela (26, an Italian who interns for an NGO) and Thanh (22, a tourism female student at the University of Society and Culture). Thanh pays a less than one-fourth of what I pay, but I don't care. She's still learning English, and we speak primarily in Vietnamese.

As for work, I'm now a regular staffer at Vietnam Investment Review. Despite shoddy journalistic standards (people PAY us to do Q&As with them), I actually do like changing and improving a story. I'm also still with the golf magazine, which I consider pretty damn low, but as established in previous posts, I'm a whore.

Still teaching as well. In fact, the school gave me a new class when I subbed for another teacher and the students requested that I be their permanent teacher. I consider this a nice little coup because the previous teacher was Caucasian, and the Vietnamese tend to prefer a white English teacher to an Asian one (despite knowing I was born in the States).

Other than that, life is going well here. My Vietnamese is improving; I'm not fluent and won't be for a long time, but I can understand some movies and can read some articles from the local women's magazines (the other day I read a short story about a woman who thought her husband was cheating on her, only to find out it was all in her head)(that's right, highbrow literature for Pauline). Unless bird flu dramatically changes my plans, I'm not planning on coming home for four or five months. I love the unhurried pace of life here.

Okay, we didn't get the house

It was our mistake. Patrick and I rejected it because we thought the trung gian (middleman) price - 50 percent of one month's rent - was too high. We thought other Vietnamese people bargained them down to 10 and 15 percent and they were just treating us like foreigners (and we all know the only thing rich foreigners want to is be treated like locals, except when it comes to being paid like a local). Then we realized the trung gian price was standard and tried to get the house back the next day, but this time the owner rejected us for being unreliable. You'd think, developing country, they'll take it, but rich people here aren't desperate.

That's one preconception I had wrong about Vietnam. Another was wireless. For some reason I thought, "It's Vietnam. Will there be any wireless places? Do people even have laptops?" There are about 30 wireless cafes all over Hanoi. It's a hit! Really, I don't know what I was thinking.

New house

I'm moving house again! Almost two weeks ago I left my expensive apartment ($240 a month, a sky-high rate for a simple flat) and have been sponging off a friend since. However, today another friend (and fellow American Viet Kieu) Patrick and I will sign a contract for a gi-normous 4-bedroom house for $316 a month. The only dark spot is the $158 realtor's finding fee, but the total still worked out to cheaper than my last place. The house has five stories - including a lovely balcony and deck space - and is in the heart of Hanoi.

Right now the plan is to find another Westerner to take one of the bedrooms and bring each person's rent to about $100 each. Then we want to rent one of the bedrooms to one or two Vietnamese girls at a fraction of the price (hopefully about $20 each because there's no way they could afford our rent). I've been wanting to live with a Vietnamese person, but not an old person who'll comment on late hours and whatnot. Hopefully doing it this way will be better.

And my Vietnamese is improving. Just about everyone I meet comments that it's soi (fluent). Totally not true, but flattering, nonetheless.

More bad "journalism"

Am I even allowed to call it that? You be the judge.

So I edited the stupidest story in the world for Vietnam Golf magazine (if you're thinking, "Vietnam has a golf magazine?", you're not alone).

This is from the article "One Day at Phan Thiet Golf Course," written by a Vietnamese person:

"...as the ninth [hole] is ranked as one of the 500 finest holes in the world. The fairway of the ninth is like the body of an 18-year-old girl that will stir anybody’s heart. The green is so beautiful and challenging, triggering the golfers’ desire to conquer and to hole the ball...the 180-yard ninth is divided by two small hills. The hills, like two full round breasts, are surrounded by pine trees. The only way to reach the green with one stroke is to drive the ball straight through the cleavage."

I took out the reference to the 18-year-old girl and the breasts. I suppose that's infringing on the writer's creativity, but his creativity made me just a little sick.

He also wrote:

"Each play at the Ocean Sand Dunes Golf Club would remind me about the poetic love story and the unfortunate destiny of the owner of the course, [Larry Lee Hillblom.] With the love for golf and for the beauty of Phan Thiet, Hillblom decided to hire Nick Faldo to design the course and invested a huge sum of money in building the property, without paying much attention to profits.

Probably he had foreseen his short life and decided to bequeath one of the world’s golf masterpieces to the next generations, to golfers and to Vietnam. Maybe he had known that a true love with a Vietnamese girl would come from this golf course and his daughter would become a talented golfer. The love for his daughter has been brought into designing the ninth hole of the course, which is a natural, cultural and humanly legacy."

Okay, Hillblom, who made his billions being the "H" of DHL, died in a plane crash at 52. He was well known for his taste in underage Asians, particularly bargirls and virgins. After he died four of his Asian children successfully won a lawsuit for several million. And with the mentioned Vietnamese woman he fathered a son. I cut the story at the line "to golfers and to Vietnam" and sent this letter to my editor:

"Hi Yen, Here's the golf Phan Thiet story. Please look at the bottom carefully. If you REALLY want to add the part about the Vietnamese girlfriend and "daughter" you can, but that information was wrong. For one thing, he had a son, who he never saw in his life. Also, I don't think you can call it a love story with the girl because the well-known story is that he hopped around Southeast Asia sleeping with virgins. Could we end the story where I suggested?"

I also edited an awful column, more fit to run in a junior high rag than any magazine, about whatever happened to playing golf for fun instead of competition? Apparently when one of the columnist's friends plays poorly the columnist will purposely bogey a few holes to let his friend back in the game. He saw this as good sportsmanship, a "how you play the game" type of thing. I see it as being a pussy and maybe you should get some new friends if yours are that whiny.

The worst part was the ending. "One day when my daughter grows older I'll take her out to the course and teach her to play...

For the love of the game."

Uh-oh, you did not go there.

Katrina

If you're wondering what the Vietnamese think about Katrina and its aftermath, I think it's similar to what the rest of the world thinks. My tutor says news reports have asked how this could happen in a rich country like America. A friend wonders how the government could have left people stranded for so long, and one of my students says people now know America is made up of two classes, rich and poor.

An Irish friend wrote this:

"I've been following the news about the disaster in New Orleans, one of the girls in my workplace was on honeymoon there at the time. She and her husband, James were queuing for a bus for four hours before they were told to turn back. They went back to their hotel which had at this point been half taken over by a gang who were planning on taking over the whole place. There was five of them hold up in a one bed hotel room for four days, before the staff helped them get out. They were warned away from the Superdome, at all costs they were told to stay away from there. They found two English guys with a car and they drove to Houston.
They flew to Chicago and then on home. Carol (the girl from work) is a skinny little thing, she is totally tramatised from the whole experience and has lost a stone weight."

I’m become a journalism whore...

I don’t know how else to put it. I've picked up some editing work over here and my ethics teacher at Northwestern would be horrified at what I'm doing. I'm sorry, Joe Mathewson. Please don't disown me.

CASE 1: English editor for Vietnam Golf Magazine.

At editorial meetings where we discuss what articles to run, we also mention calling any companies these articles mention and asking them to place an ad in the magazine. I'm surprised the ad department doesn't come to the meetings.

Also, I just got an article from one of their reporters that clearly plagiarizes a story from The Star newspaper in Malaysia. I'm talking lifting whole phrases here. I mentioned this to my boss, but in all likelihood this practice is well and fine and my job will be to rearrange the story so that it's not so obviously copied.

CASE 2: Freelance editor for the Foreign Language Publishing House.

From the memoir of Senior Lieutenant General Nguyên Huu An of the North Vietnamese army:

"Viewing the battlefield from the end of 1964 to the beginning of 1965 over South Viet Nam as a whole, one can observe that the liberation army was in a strong, overwhelming, victorious and growing position, while the puppet army was overwhelmed, falling into disfavour, and their complete failure was inevitable."

And:

"The U.S. imperialists suffered heavy failures not only on the battlefield but also in the political arena. The U.S. troops sent to South Viet Nam revealed themselves to be aggressors, and thus hurt the national sentiment, self-respect and pride of our people."

CASE 3: Temporary Sub-editor for Vietnam Investment Review.

I asked another editor why the articles often have two names under the byline, the second one in parenthesis. He said the name in parenthesis is the actual reporter, and the first name is a fake name, listed to give the impression the paper has more reporters than it actually does. I stifled the urge to ask if we should include fake datelines, too.

I also edited a press release as an article. The reporter had literally cut and paste a press release from Motorola about their new General Director in Vietnam, then called the guy and inserted his quotes. That's it. The best I could do was make it not-so-press-releasey, so I rearranged it and cut out phrases like, "Motorola has been instrumental in shaping the telecommunications landscape of Vietnam" and "He is taking charge of an outstanding local team."

If you’re ever in Hanoi, you can find me on the corner of Phô Huê and Hai Bà Trung carrying this sign: "Will Edit Your Propaganda for Food." I’ll be the one in high heels, a short skirt, and waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much makeup.

Third place...

...is the second loser.


Yes, that's me in front of the giant Jim Beam sign.

So I didn't win, nor come close. The judges gave first place to a three-person band with a guy who played great guitar and a guy who played better harmonica, but it was led by a girl who couldn't sing. Simon Cowell would've made fun of her for trying. Second went to a two-man band (guitar and harmonica), who were also pretty good.

Then me, who, I think it's safe to say, had the best voice. I sang Norah Jones' "Turn Me On" (and people cheered whenever I quoted those lines, reinforcing my belief that people are really easy), and "Walking on Sunshine." I was clearly nervous, but apparently that's charming. Ah well. I think the judges were biased against those of us raised in the karaoke projects, but hey, I got a free drink card! Any of you come to Hanoi, your first rum and coke is on me.

Don't laugh...

...but I made the finals of a Hanoi talent show. And not only that, but I stand a very good chance of winning the $500 prize.

I said don't laugh!

Last Thursday an expat bar here held the last heat of their talent show, which I only found out about the day of. I had no intention of entering, but when I got there I realized some of the contestants were horrible. Expecting a well-rehearsed battle of the bands, I instead got a lone girl singing a capella. Badly.

So midway through I signed myself up and sang Dolly Parton's "9 to 5." Now that's a great song to sing with karaoke (as you Stateliners well know), but it's tough to sing a capella. I got nervous, started too high, asked to start again, started too high again, apologized and left the stage. But I'd won over the crowd, so they asked me up again. This time I did the gospelly part of "Shout!" ("I want you to know...I said I want you to know right now...") and rocked it.

Unfortunately it wasn't enough for the judges. "You're the best singer here, but you got nervous and forgot your lines, so we encourage you to come back next time," one said.

Luckily, the owners - who are, after all, shelling out the prize money - didn't agree. First they asked me to sing before the competition. Then they scrapped that and said, hell, let's just let her compete. So I'm in! I'm thrilled.

Right now I plan to sing "The Boy from New York City," which was a hit in a few outings at The Meeting Place in D.C. I dedicate it to all the boys I know from NYC: Mark G, Jeff S and Vivek (you did live there a few weeks). And Tuohey, too. Boston's close enough.

Every dog has his day...

...or doesn't.

I really need to start bringing my camera with me. Today I was on a xe om (motorcycle taxi) when I looked to my right and saw a motorcycle with five skinned dogs on the back. They all had their mouths open, and I wondered if they'd been beaten to death to make the meat more tender. I thought, "Man, I wish I could show this to the folks back home."

By the way, the Chinese and Vietnamese do eat dog, but there's just one type of dog that's raised to be eaten (and beaten). Lots of people also have dogs as pets. I see them everywhere and pet about half of them. Because I know you're wondering, I haven't eaten dog yet, but I do expect to one day. I told my students I'll probably do it just before leaving Vietnam because I don't want to like it.

Quick update

What a copy editor I make. "Quick update" is, perhaps, the catchiest thing I've ever written.

Anyway, just wanted to let you all know how I'm doing (and by "you all" I mean Aubris and Andrea). I've moved into a cute apartment by the city center that costs $240 a month, and now I'm looking for a new place. I've decided to aim for Vietnamese quality and Vietnamese prices (which is more like $50 a month). Of course, the place won't come with an air conditioner, fan or refrigerator, but who needs them? And besides, I already average a cockroach a week. A few more can't hurt (although the cockroaches are damn near two inches long).

I've launched myself into studying Vietnamese, with mixed results. About the only thing I've learned so far is that I don't know that much at all. I have a tutor (who's not a great tutor but is rapidly becoming a good friend) and go to classes three times a week. I hate, absolutely loathe, grammar.

I met today with the editor of the Vietnam Investment Review, an English-language weekly. He said he'll call if there are any openings for a sub-editor. Sub-editors are like copy editors, except that you can totally change the articles, which are written in English by Vietnamese reporters. How cool is that? When I was copy editing at Space News, it frustrated me that I couldn't do more than look for factual errors and AP style violations. To actually be able to improve someone's writing would be a relief.

I just finished teaching my first English class here. I felt like the majority of the students liked me. It's not that I'm a good teacher, but I think, if you can believe it, that I have a certain amount of charm. I just hope the charm machine is enough to overcome having an Asian face. Before I started the school warned me that sometimes students object to Asian teachers because they think they cannot possibly possess the proper accent, no matter where they were born. Also, the school might not keep me because it was just a trial class and they're giving another guy a trial on Wednesday. It's a teach-off! What if he's - gulp - more charming?

It's nice talking to the students, though. Euthanasia, and taking someone off life support, is illegal here. And not only that, but the majority of my students think it's immoral to take someone off life support. One girl said she'd rather die than be on life support, and another student clapped and said he thought she was brave. But he said wouldn't do that to his wife.

Reporting in Vietnam

I called a foreign reporter here in Hanoi to ask a few questions, but midway through the first one she cut me off and said we should meet instead. The government had listened in on her calls before, she told me later, and she didn't want to take the chance they were listening then. I thought it was a little Deep Throatish, pre-Deep Throat revealing himself to be an old man whose mind is half gone.

Foreign reporters are supposed to register with the Vietnamese government. Six years ago another reporter who didn't register was thrown out of the country after he wrote about politics. The reporter suggested I not register, as it's a long, tedious process, but as a result I can't interview any government officials. I don't consider Nguoi Viet 2, the paper I freelance for, remotely threatening, but the Vietnamese government keeps tabs on everything said about it, including anything from the largest Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese) newspaper in the U.S.

Each registered reporter is given a translator/minder who is technically supposed to watch over them. These minders may eventually do the same work as a reporter, but they're known officially as news assistants because Vietnam is one of the few countries in the world to ban its citizens from working as reporters for a foreign outlet. Reporters also must base themselves in Hanoi, even though Saigon is where the economic action is, and they have to get permission to report in other areas. Often the permission is granted, and then revoked at the last minute.

The reporter recommended I stick with social issues, but not major ones like the growing heroin problem. Other advice: Don't interview any government officials, but, say, a doctor at a hospital is okay. Just tell don't tell him it's for some Viet Kieu paper in America. Can I use his name? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how the interview went. It's mind-boggling. And we complain about lack of media access in America...

QUICK NOTE: The guy next to me, who's on IM, has written "I love you" and hit return about 50 times. I think maybe, just maybe, he loves someone.

"Eating her way across Viet Nam"

So, I wrote a cheesy column-thing for Nguoi Viet 2, the weekly English offshoot of the U.S.'s largest Vietnamese newspaper. They wanted something about food and I wrote about my favorite dishes during my recent travels. I'm going to post the article, but I don't think anyone should actually read it. I think you should look at the first picture of Jackie, her mouth open, cao lau noodles halfway in her mouth. That's the picture they decided to run 8" x 15". That made the whole thing totally worth it.

Also, for reasons I'll never understand, the article has apparently garnered the second largest response ever for a Nguoi Viet 2 article. As of two weeks ago, 4,733 responses, my editor said. What are these people writing about? I have no idea. But the fact they've written at all only contributes to the lasting mystery of the Vietnamese. We're an odd, odd people.

http://nguoi-viet.com/absolutenm/anmviewer.asp?a=25851&z=19

Know the Jackie!

Well, my traveling companion and partner-in-bitching for the last six weeks has left. In her honor - and realizing that her friends double the hits on this blog - I'm putting up some of my favorite pics of my lil' sis.

Now Jackie, don't tell too many of your friends at once. I wouldn't want to crash the site.

-AGE: 24, 18 months younger than me
-OCCUPATION: Full-time sister, part-time student at Vanderbilt Law School
-PERSONALITY SNAPSHOT: When an obnoxious guy Jackie didn't like kept making inane remarks and saying, "Sorry - I'm a smartass," she answered, "No, you have to be smart to be a smartass. Otherwise you're just an ass."


The woman to the right insisted Jackie take this cheesy photo. Then she promptly overcharged Jackie for pineapple, but we didn't mind.


Jackie and my dad clear wheat stalks from the rural road we were on. I wasn't strong enough, so I recorded the magical moment instead.


She really likes hammocks.


Jackie and our aunt Thuy reach the top of the Microwave Tower (radio tower) in Sapa.


Jackie, picking flowers with a dreamy look on her face, the douche baggette.


In our Thai cooking class.


At a waterfall on our Chiang Mai trek.


Scaling the wall in Krabi.


On the edge of the boat during a tour of Halong Bay in Vietnam.

Know the Peter! (but not as well)

My brother came out to Hanoi for one week before leaving with Jackie. Unfortunately, I don't have as many pictures of him because (1) I was tired of taking pictures, and (2) we didn't do many touristy things. From the start, Pete made clear he wasn't here to find his roots or get to know Vietnam. He was here for one thing and one thing only: cheap tailored suits (he got two, complete with vest, for $145). Here are a few shots of him during our Halong Bay trip, the one touristy thing we did because my mother, upon hearing Pete wanted to skip that too, grew furious. "Then why you go to Vietnam in the fuhst place!?!?!?" she shrieked.

AGE: 21, almost five years younger than me.
OCCUPATION: senior at UC Davis
PERSONALITY SNAPSHOT: Pete, a strong Catholic, used to invite Jehovah's Witnesses into our house for weeks on end to debate religion. My mother said she passed them one time, saw him arguing vehemently, and said, "Petah, let them go."


Ready to face off what lies in the distance.


Pete bravely points to...air. Yes, we admit it. He's pointing to air. It's a cool silhouette, dammit.

Cheesy things I did in Thailand...

I can't think of a more apt title than this. Jackie and I had just under 14 full days, and we decided to squeeze in every possible activity, from kayaking to trekking to "volunteering" for the tsunami reconstruction effort. I put that in quotes because I don't think we were any help whatsoever. Anyway, here's a sample of what we experienced in Thailand, the land of smiles.

My first picture in Thailand

This sign at the Bangkok airport made me recall all the hours I spent watching news coverage about the tsunami just after Christmas. I can't imagine what the survivors and their families went through.

A festival in Chiang Mai

After Bangkok, which neither Jackie nor I liked (too flashy and trashy), our first stop was Chiang Mai, the largest city in the north of Thailand. People come there for treks and courses in cooking, meditation, massage, etc. It's a cute city, except for all the bars that obviously cater to Western men (if the scores of scantily clad Thai women who inhabit them are anything to go by. Jackie and I felt certain if we entered these establishments we'd be in trouble). Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of that part of town. But here are far more wholesome pics from a festival at one of the city's many wats, or Buddhist temples.


People place flowers in baskets.


A woman prays at the festival.


A Thai dancer at the same festival.

Our cooking class with the Master

Our cooking class teacher, who called himself "The Master."


Making stir-fry veggies in our Thai cooking class. I volunteered to do something the Master called "adventure style"...


Adventure cooking! What the camera failed to capture, however, is the part where I turned my head and shrieked furiously for a minute.

Rough trekking in the hills around Chiang Mai

The first day we walked for three hours up muddy terrain. Our biggest fear: leeches. One actually managed to bite our guide, but he found it before it did too much damage. Jackie found a leech on her shoe and handled it quite calmly. I saw a leech between my shoe and sock and was calm as well. Then I thought I saw it squiggle into my sock and, to put it lightly, all hell broke loose. It did not, by the way, actually get into my sock.


We also had to crossing a rickety bridge to get to the village we were to spend the night at. 


Jackie treks with PIZZAZZ!!!!! (But those of you who know her know she's not capable of trekking any other way)


Yes, this spider really IS as big as it looks.


Ek, our guide, who had been a Buddhist monk for two years and a novice for three. Buddhist men in Thailand are expected to be monks for at least part of their lives, during which they can't drink, shouldn't smoke, and are to have no physical contact with women. At the Chiang Mai airport, there's a section reserved for monks and novices alone.


Matt, one of our fellow trekkers, demonstrates how the English dance. And yes, they all dance EXACTLY like this.

An elephant ride...perhaps the biggest cliche of them all

Boys at the camp get the elephants ready for our ride.


The elephants get a washing.


An elephant ride is sooooooooo cheesy, in a Thai kinda way, but at least I get to sit on his neck. We're sitting with Matt, from England. Detail you obviously wanted to know: our elephant liked to fart. According to the people behind us, you could see the bubbles coming out of the river.


The neck ended up being the best seat in the house. Sometimes it would wrap its ears around my feet and I felt all safe and cozy. Well, as safe and cozy as it's possible to feel sitting on an elephant's neck.


The path we took went through rivers and was surrounded by jungle.

Ao Nang

After Chiang Mai we flew to Krabi in the south of Thailand and stayed at Ao Nang, a nearby tourist resort. In the low season (when we went) it's probably the most deadly dull place in Thailand, but there's so much to do around there we used it as a base for four days. Also, it gave me this nice sunset.


Phra Nang beach, near Ao Nang, near the place where we rock climbed.

Adventures in rock climbing

Krabi is known as a world-class place for climbers, so of course Jackie - who regularly climbs back in Nashville - had to be there. We did a half-day course, but I don't know if it was necessarily better than any other place. The wall we were using had about 25 other climbers there, and at least four others climbing at the same time. I think it would've been better to find a place not so known for its climbing.

All the same, I expect people to say we look good in these pics.


Cheeky monkey.


Jackie boulders and pretends to look tough, but you can see she's only about five feet off the ground.


Now she gets serious.


Looking good.





Seriously high now.


A pic or two of myself. Not an attractive pose, but hey, I look tough, right? Look at the lean muscles in my calves!!!


Bit higher.