Dog thieves and North Koreans

Okay, the title of this post is a little misleading, but it involves two random anecdotes that I decided to put together, so here goes:

Dog thievery: a common problem in Hanoi. If you ask any Hanoian about dogs being stolen, they all respond with a shrug and "it happens all the time". Apparently, puppies are stolen in order to be re-sold, while adult dogs are stolen for, well, dinner. My friend Gabriel has bought three different puppies, and all three have been stolen. On one occasion, he was walking his dog down the street when two men on a bike grabbed the leash, swooped the dog onto the bike, and drove off... all while driving at a relatively quick speed (these were obviously trained professionals). His other two dogs were both stolen from his garage while he was out on an errand. Although the loss of these cute dogs is definitely saddening, at least we can still believe that they will be sold to another family, and have a chance to live out a long, happy life. Gabriel has since purchased an unattractive puppy with disfigured hind legs (it wobbles strangely as it walks), and he's fairly certain that no one will attempt to steal this one.

Son's family's dog, Mi, was stolen two days ago; she was over ten years old and her fate was a bit more clear. According to his uncle, he let the dog out for a morning roam around the block to take care of business, and as he looked out the window, saw her being dragged behind a motorbike by a rope. His uncle ran downstairs and jumped on his own bike, determined to get Mi back, but the men had already pulled her onto the bike and sped around a corner. It's with instances like this in mind that I refrain from eating dog, no matter how much of a delicacy Vietnamese people claim it to be. Really, American dogs just don't know how good they have it!

And on a completely different note-

This evening a couple of us got together to go to a North Korean restaurant with our Korean friend Min (who I lovingly refer to as Min-ty Fresh). According to Min, this restaurant is run by the North Korean government (only the few countries that still have good relations with N.K. are allowed to have this sort of restaurant). All of the employees have been sent over from North Korea, and they are not allowed to leave the vicinity. Additionally, every night from 7-8pm, the women perform traditional North Korean propaganda music... which made for a truly entertaining evening. My friends and I decided that since any opportunity to dance with North Korean women is extremely limited, we might as well get up on stage and shake it around with them; this we did to the great enjoyment of all the other Korean restaurant guests, who quickly got out video cameras to record the whole affair. The food was phenomenal, and the eating atmosphere was made even more intriguing with the propaganda videos being played on a giant television on the wall. We quickly befriended a nearby table of Korean businessmen by accepting to take shots of Pyongyang Liquor (Min informed us it would be considered an atrocity of we refused). They then proceeded to serve us alcohol mixed with bear bile, followed by ginseng vodka... the last being the least offensive to the taste buds. Two of my friends managed to acquire English tutoring jobs off of these friendly, red-faced fellows before we parted ways. Overall, it made for a very comprehensive experience... I shall definitely be returning.

Gettin' Funky... and almost soaked

Part 1 of CAMA International Music Festival kicked off this weekend at the American Club, and what's more fitting for an American party than some serious, funky music? The headlining band was called Supabad, and it was a ten-piece funk band from Bangkok (all the musicians were ex-pat English teachers). The lead singer was a James Brown impersonator, and he did an incredible job, despite his obvious deficiency of being white, middle-aged, and overweight; he wore a two-piece, sequined, red suit to make up for whatever physical characteristics he may have lacked. The band was absolutely incredible, and had most of the crowd "gettin' down". It was great to have the sound of a whole brass band, and it was definitely the best music I have ever heard in Hanoi... let's just say it was totally worth the 6 dollar cover charge.

I think it's safe to say that the summer weather has arrived- now I have to wear a sun jacket on my way to work so I don't get a sunburn during my commute. Today, it was 95 degrees, 100% humidity, and sunny as ever, so I threw on my sun jacket and set off to work, feeling the heat rising off the pavement at every stop. By the time class came to an end, the sky had turned an ominous dark grey, and I knew I had to get home quick before the heavens opened up and poured buckets (which would be even more terrible since I had switched my rain poncho out for a sun jacket). The bell rang and I jolted towards my bike, kicking it to life before the battery could give out again (it has gotten in the habit of doing that in the hot weather). The cloud was moving in quickly behind me as I raced towards the fading light patch in the sky, which was, thankfully, also in the direction of my house. I figured I could out-smart the monsoon and drive recklessly fast to get home, but it seems that every other Hanoian had the exact same plan as me. So instead of slow-moving traffic, it was high-speed, frantic traffic... the latter definitely being the worst of the two. Every time I hit a stop light, I held my breath and looked towards the sky, just waiting to be soaked to the bone in seconds. The cloud was right over my head, and I started to feel those heavy drops as I got closer to my house. The thunder and lightening hadbroken out, and given my experience of monsoons, I knew I had about 1 minute to get inside before the inevitable. I decided to break one traffic law and took a shortcut down a sidewalk (... I can feel my mom's eyes widening as she reads this, but sidewalk driving is just another necessary skill in Hanoi) and I managed to make it back to my house just as the ground was starting to darken with rain. By the time I made it into my apartment, the rain was torrential, and I did a little victory dance for my being faster than mother nature. Now, I'm sitting here listening to the storm, watching rivers form on the neighboring roofs, and enjoying how dry I am. :)

Spring Peak

With a few short days before Scott's return to China, I made sure he had the chance to visit Mai Chau (the farming village that lies at the base of a mountain range, I mention it constantly...). The weather in Hanoi had been the usual "baby rain" as my Vietnamese friends call it, and I was really hoping Scott could enjoy the city in the sunshine. The morning we were to leave for Mai Chau, I headed to our little bus in rain boots and with poncho in hand. I was expecting Mai Chau to be very much the same, leaving me to hike around in mud or sit around in a hut. As the trip progressed and we made it to the mountains, we broke through the ring of clouds to a perfect, sunny day; it was like entering Oz for the first time, when all the dismal grays suddenly splash into color. We quickly circled down the mountains to get to the village of Mai Chau. I have been 5 times in total now, and I was surprised that it could get any more beautiful than what I had experienced already. The area was at it's peak of the spring season, with flowers blooming everywhere, and the rice longer and greener than ever... all being tended to by women donning conical hats and vibrantly-colored farming clothes. There were baby animals all over the place, and the bamboo had become the most vivid shade of green. We did some hiking, as well as spent some time with a local family that is helping my friend Flip develop a small bungalow resort down the road. We sat down to a plastic bottle filled with honey bees. In this bottle, they had added some local alcohol and, well, I'm not really sure what else was floating around. Either way, my Vietnamese was not good enough to decline with dignity, so I partook in some mid-afternoon "medicinal wine" shots. I'm not sure why any of these things are referred to as wine, when it's all straight-up rice alcohol. Either way, the extremely old lady with black teeth sitting next to Scott was really enjoying herself, and put away around 6 shot glasses of this bee stuff. At this point, I was able to use my limited Vietnamese skills to congratulate her on her strength. After a long walk around the village, we came to the communal stilt house to chill around, have an enormous, locally-cooked dinner, and enjoy the calm of a countryside night. We spent the evening watching lightening jump among the mountains in the distance, but by 9pm the oft-heard sound of big, watery thuds drove us into a frenzy of moving furniture. By the time we got all 4 chairs under the stilt house, we were already soaked. Minutes later, all the lights went out. Given that we were in the middle of the countryside, this meant instantaneous pitch black. We managed to feel our way into the stilt house and got into bed, listening to the patter of rain for the remainder of the evening.

The drive home was equally as beautiful, with unhindered mountain range views for the first part of the trip. Unfortunately, the closer we got to Hanoi, the worse it got. Flip said this happens often, since Mai Chau is sheltered from all the foul weather by it's surrounding mountains, leaving it a happy, sunny oasis when all the other cities experience a constant, humid rain. Scott absolutely loved Mai Chau, citing it the best part of his trip (I think the crazy onset of the monsoon rains did the trick). I'm really glad that I got to take him to see what I consider the most underrated place in Vietnam.

Putting my tour guide skills to use

A very dear friend of mine from Summit arrived in Hanoi a few days ago. Scott, currently studying architecture at a school in Beijing, got some time off to come over to Vietnam for a visit. He convinced 4 other students to join him, so I've spent the past few days taking them around the city, and, obviously, out to sample the best street food Hanoi has to offer. Today, we all went to a famous bun cha place, then formed a motorbike gang and drove around West Lake to take in the sights and view the impressive architecture (West Lake is the most affluent neighborhood in town...). After the motorbike tour, we all walked from my house to get some hot oil grill dinner. Since it was Sunday, we strolled through the night market (only set up on weekends), admiring the array of sandals, stickers, keychains, jewelry, cell phone accessories, and all other sorts of random goods. Us girls all got held up at the sandal stand, where those with small enough feet were able to get some lovely sandals for 2 dollars a pair. The boys had disappeared by this point, but we found them further down chugging glass bottles of Coca-cola. There was some sort of strange promotion that featured Vietnamese girls in red, "Coke outfits" who were giving out free bottles to all passerby. This resulted in a giant mob around the ice-cooler, since things are rarely free in this country. In keeping with this trend, there were "perimeter men" who stationed themselves around the area to make sure no one tried to walk off with a glass bottle (we tried and failed...). So we basically had to drink these bottles as fast as possible in order to get away from the crowd. The night market conveniently comes to an end at our dinner spot, so laden with bags of sandals, we sat down to a table of beef and eggplant "grilled" in oil. Since it is currently a holiday, many of the locals have taken the opportunity to get out of Hanoi, leaving the city enjoyably low-key; there is no traffic, no crowds, and a lot less stress. So far we already have our visitors convinced that Hanoi is better than Beijing, but we will see if this opinion persists once the daily hustle starts up again on Tuesday.

Tomorrow, 18 of us are going to spend the night on a boat cruising around Ha Long Bay. I took the liberty of arranging the trip myself, and made sure to spend the extra 10 dollars per person for a "luxury liner". This basically means that they serve better food, have nicer bathrooms, and more chairs on the deck. The last cruise we went on (back when my brother Luke was visiting) was more of a "bottom-rung" type boat, and the quality and quantity of the food was the biggest issue for complaint. Not wanting to deal with hungry people, I figured springing a few extra dollars would be a good idea. So now I am going to pack my bathing and sunglasses, cross my fingers that the rain will hold out, and get ready for my 3 hour bus ride tomorrow morning!

Reggae Party in Hanoi!

I have mentioned The Only Reggae Band numerous times in my blog (performed at my Birthday Party for one...), and here I go talking about them again. This past Wednesday a bunch of us got together and headed over to E-Z Rider Bar (and yes, it is decorated with themes from the movie) to watch the guys perform. Usually the band consists of 4 people, but this time a random hippie from Thailand showed up with a bongo and one drum stick, which he then proceeded to hold between his toes and drum on a large can. The show was really fun, with a lot of Reggae dance, and it seemed that a lot of people wanted to get in on the action of the band; every other minute some random person was on the stage holding a wood block, or a cowbell, or some other equally inane instrument. By the time midnight hit, the intense Vietnamese woman who owned the bar rushed the stage, tapping the guys mid-song and trying to get them off. After 3 attempts of repeated poking, prodding, and pleading, a more elderly version of the same woman jumped up and started pulling the singer away from the microphone. This resulted in a quick termination of a Bob Marley rendition, and was immediately followed by the police busting through the door. This is never usually a cause for alarm for a foreigner, but it definitely explained why the Vietnamese owners were freaking out. So the police waved their batons and we all filed out into the street, which was lined with police officers looking rather pleased to have busted a party that was host to such a large number of attractive white women. We managed to get about 2 hours of music in, so overall, I would say the concert was a success. Next week is the International CAMA Music Festival, which hosts bands from all over Asia; there was an amazing Japanese all-girl rock band last year, so I am really looking forward to some of the bands coming this time. Who knew Hanoi could be such a happenin' music spot? :)

100 Day Anniversary of Phuong's Death

The 100 day anniversary of a Vietnamese person's death is an important day for the family and friends of the recently deceased. On this day, family and friends gather together to visit the grave, which is usually the first time the grave has been visited since the original funeral. This afternoon, I went over to Phuong's house with a couple friends and rode with her family to the cemetery. We drove about 30 minutes outside of Hanoi, and once we arrived, had to weave our way through built-up tombs. In Vietnam, it is tradition that a person is put in a casket, which is then covered in a mound of mud and grass. After three years, the body is taken out, the bones cleaned, and then placed in a smaller box, which is housed inside of a concrete tomb (usually painted and decorated). At the 5 year anniversary, another "celebration" is had at the tomb. Usually, friends and relatives bring money for the immediate family.

We passed the concrete tombs and reached the section of the cemetery that was covered in muddy, grassy mounds, each one labeled with a small, marble tombstone. The mounds are above ground due to the wet soil (the cemetery was surrounded by rice paddies), so we waded towards Phuong's grave up to our ankles in mud. Once we arrived, her mother threw herself onto the muddy mound, crying and yelling Phuong's name. Everyone in the group lit incense, placed flowers, and even poured Coca-cola over her grave (it was her favorite drink). We then proceeded to burn some more things for her to use in the after-life. Her mother, who had seemed unnaturally calm during the ride over, was not faring so well. She was crying so hysterically that she became unconscious, and had to be carried away from the grave. I have never seen such an outpouring of sorrow before, and felt myself losing control of my emotions as well. It took over an hour before we were able to calm her mother down enough to walk her back to the waiting taxi. Once we made it back to Hanoi, Phuong's mother had reclaimed her strength and was smiling and talking with us, inviting us back to the house whenever we wanted. It was strange, seeing her mother fluctuating between such emotional extremes... Phuong was the exact same way; I had once found her crying outside of the restaurant/bar she worked in, and after 10 minutes, she was back inside and completely normal again. Seeing this characteristic in her mother made me miss her terribly.

I know this is depressing, and described with a bit too much detail, but even though it was so sad, it was an important day to remember and love a dear friend.

Dia Lai Lake

With the celebration of the first King's death, came a day off from work, and a chance for myself and Son to take yet another day trip into the countryside. About 1 and a half hours north of the city, there is a gigantic lake that is said to be nice spot for people trying to get away from the thrum of the city. Son had been 10 years ago, and said it was basically a lake, some grass, and not much else. This sounded lovely, so we packed up some picnic materials, jumped on the bike, and off we went. The drive towards the lake was incredible. Instead of the usual rice paddies as far as the eye can see, we took an old, dirt, pot-hole riddled road through tiny towns and villages. A lot of towns specialized in flower growing, so the sides of the roadswere vibrant with whites, yellows, and reds. We hit one town just as school was getting out, so we were stuck in a sea of students in matching white jackets, with at least 2 kids per bicycle (note picture).This was the heaviest traffic we had to deal with during the entire journey, and it was pretty cute. I caused a bit of a fuss with my blonde hair sticking out of my helmet, so I made sure to continually wave the peace sign... much to the excitement of the students. After emerging from the mass of homeward-bound students, we continued on our way through towns that looked like they hadn't been changed in 100 years. At numerous points the road got so bad that we were not sure if we were even still on a road. But eventually, we made it to the lake. Not much to our surprise, the place had changed drastically; the fast-paced building-up of surrounding areas is happening everywhere, and arriving to multiple construction sights around the lake was a bit of a let-down, but to be expected. We drove around, looking for an ideal picnic spot. The only ones we saw were located on forested islands in the middle of the lake. First, we tried driving down a rocky path, and then climbing over a gorge to set up on a very inviting river bank on the other side. Being headstrong, I slid down into the valley of this 7ft gorge first, intent on being successful getting up the other side. This proved disastrous, since both sides were formed of crumbling rock. After a good 20 minute hurrah, I gave up and had Son pull me back out. We got back to the bike in search of plan 2... a boat to get us to the island. Little resorts scattered the lake, and boasted numerous boats and canoes, but these were inaccessible unless we were staying at the resort, so we kept driving, with our eyes peeled. We finally happened upon a small fleet of swan boats, looking rather dejected, sitting along the shoreline next to a construction zone. We quickly ran over to the disheveled restaurant and asked to take a boat out. Minutes later, a young woman was brushing off the giant spiders and ushering us into the boat. Both Son and I are not a big fan of spiders, so we were worried about any that she might of missed (this fear proved grounded, since we later looked over our shoulders and saw a very big, very red spider hanging out behind our heads). We got over the insect issue and started paddling away. These boats move incredibly slow, and I was beginning to doubt that we'd ever make it to the island. By the time we got closer, my passion for all things architecture had us making a biiiig detour around the entire lake to look at the real-estate. Additionally, a pack of water buffalo were grazing on the shore, so naturally I had to paddle over to them and take a gander (I find them very cute, which Son in turn finds strange). 3 hours and very tired legs later, we skipped out on the river bank picnic and just headed back to the restaurant. We grabbed a couple cokes, and prepared to head back to Hanoi. As I requested to use the bathroom in Vietnamese, the owner of therestaurant looked at the "public restroom", thought twice, then lead me through her house, past a sleeping baby in a hammock, and then let me use their personal bathroom, which was a great improvement to the thing that passes for a toilet outside (I think all this was due to the excessive compliments I was giving to her grandson).

We got back to Hanoi and ended our day on a high-note, at a Bia Hoi crowded with men celebrating the holiday; I celebrated with sauteed young bamboo, and stir-fried beef. :) Now I have 2 more work weeks until the next holiday, Reunification Day, (if anyone recalls my post from the same day last year... MAYHEM), we will definitely be getting out of the city for that as well.