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.