Vietnam - Day Two - Feb 3

We woke up the next morning and got ready to shower in the communal bathroom. Justin had gone on a scouting mission for towels, and managed to find a street vendor selling some. It was colder in the hostel than it was outside, and the bathroom was by far the coldest room. For some reason everyone else managed to shower without a problem but mine ran out of hot water halfway through, so I ran downstairs in a towel and with conditioner in my hair to the guys' room. The other fellas in the barracks weren't thrilled to see me use their hot water, but they didn't say anything so I went for it. We got dressed, ate a good breakfast, settled the bill ($8 per person) and headed to Handspan Adventure Travel, a company that had been recommended to us by friends.



Thanks to Justin's navigational expertise, we made it there with no problem and Ahn, the travel agent working that morning. She was incredibly helpful as we tried to solidify our plans. After much debate (and discouragement from her due the incredibly cold weather and fog/mist conditions) we decided to take a 3 day trip to Sapa including one night in a homestay. This turned out to be the best decision of our trip, but was a little daunting with her being such a realist about it.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around Hanoi, sightseeing and searching for warm clothes. Derek got a knock-off North Face pack and we ended up finding a store with loads of (possibly) real outdoor clothing.

We ate lunch at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Cha Ca La Vong which only serves one dish. It is a sort of stir-fried fish stew that is made at your table. It was delicious and authentically Vietnamese, evidenced by the mostly local clientele. It was $6 a person for all you could eat. Yum.

We also visited Hanoi Hilton, called Hoa Lo Prison, which was very interesting and moving. Built by the French in 1896 it once held over 2000 Vietnamese prisoners in the 1930's. This heritage is obvious when you see the enormous French guillotine which was used to behead Vietnamese revolutionaries during the colonial period. It is most famous (to Westerners at least) for holding US POW's during the Vietnam/American War. The museum has, what they claim to be, John McCain's jumpsuit and other gear as well as pictures of the Vietnamese pulling him out of the water after his plane went down. The Vietnamese have an interesting twist on history which depicts the Vietnamese being brutally tortured by the French, but the Vietnamese treating Americans quite humanely. There are pictures of the Americans playing basketball, laughing, being treated by medical staff, which are a little difficult to believe weren't posed. The overall feeling of the prison is a bit scary and very intimidating, though the actual structure and architecture is beautiful in it's own way.

We ate dinner at a restaurant called 69 Bar-Restaurant, which is in an old Vietnamese house, which has been perfectly restored. The food was again, wonderful, and the atmosphere was very unique as we sat on the balcony and listened to the city outside.

Following dinner we grabbed some snacks and went back to Handspan's office to meet a bus which would take us to the train. Our "guide" to the train station got on the bus with two dirty 1.5 liter water bottles. When we asked him about them, he told us they were filled with "Happy Water", which we finally realized was a homemade rice wine. It is strong stuff, and he was taking it home to celebrate Tet with his family. He took us to the train and dropped us off, then got on another train for his long trek home.

The four of us shared a small cabin with two sets of bunk beds which were about 18" wide and 5'6" long. A tough night's sleep for the guys. After downing a few beers and Oreos, we turned off the light. This was followed by about two hours of an acappella sing-a-long to 80's and 90's music, which I'm sure the people with the baby in the next cabin appreciated.

Vietnam - Day One - Feb 2

Each year the Chinese New Year is celebrated by taking a week off of work and visiting family, near or far. The Chinese go to great lengths to make this happen. My friends stand in line for days trying to get train tickets, after which most end up with bus tickets for the long journey home. It is the Western Christmas and New Years wrapped into one and it's a really big deal. The traditional custom is for parents to give their children a "hong biao" (red envelope) with money inside, which partly symbolizes prosperity and luck for the following year. They eat traditional Chinese foods, including a lot of dumplings, and set off more fireworks than you can imagine, basically for the next month straight. However, the biggest night of these festivities is New Years Eve, when there are so many fireworks the city looks, and feels, like a war zone. Last year we were in Beijing for this occasion, this year we decided to celebrate the New Year in another country and arbitrarily chose Vietnam with our friends Derek and Stacey.

The Vietnamese call the New Year holiday "Tet" and it is much more of a religious holiday than in most of China. Vietnamese practice ancestor worship and are very consistant about it. Every home, business, hotel, shack you enter has a small little house style alter with offerings and incense inside. Tet is one of the most important religious observances of the year, and there are plenty of rules, so each family wants to be sure to get it right. If they don't it may mean bad luck for the year ahead, which is definitely something to be avoided.

We left on February 2 for Hanoi, with quite a bit of stress about the connection we had to make in Guangzhou. The weather in southern China had been terrible for the week before and people were living at train/bus stations trying to get home in the midst of horrible snow storms. Luckily for us, most Chinese can't afford airplane travel, so our flight left on time and connected to Hanoi without delay. Flying on a plane in China, especially with a Chinese airline is definitely an experience that I would prefer to avoid. The first disparity between Eastern and Western travel exists in the ingenuity of dealing with airports that are too small. In Asian countries instead of building bigger airports they just leave planes scattered around the airport and bus you to them. This isn't very enjoyable in bad weather. On both flights you could smell cigarette smoke. One the first flight I think it was someone trying to get away with it in the bathroom, but on the second flight I think someone just lit up right in the open in first class. Not surprisingly, the flight attendants usually hesitate to say anything directly, due to the Asian value of harmony over conflict, and instead made a general announcement on our flight upon Stacey's request. After a ridiculous transfer in Guangzhou, which included putting big color-coded stickers on every passenger that said our flight number, we made it safely to Hanoi.

Upon arriving in Hanoi, I had to get a "Visa Upon Arrival" at the airport. This is a wonderful service and was pretty painlessly executed. We had to wait awhile, but the process was relatively straight forward. It costs $25 per visa which they prefer to collect in USD, however, they are very picky about the bills - a general trend in Vietnam, which was confirmed every time we used them. A girl in front of me tried to pay with a hundred dollar bill which had an oil smudge and was rejected. She ended up paying in 600 in Chinese RMB for two visas, which is the equivalent of about $75. When she tried to argue the lady at immigration was having none of it and she knew she was screwed. I got my passport first then gave her my money and walked away. Fortunately she didn't chase me.

We left the customs area, entered the main waiting room and found the representative from the Hanoi Backpacker's Hostel, where we had planned to stay our first night. After a terrifying ride in which our driver almost killed numerous motorcyclists, we arrived safely at the hostel. A Vietnamese man came to the front desk and after much effort told us that they had lost our reservation. We called the manager (an Australian guy) who confirmed this news. We had a email which confirmed our four person suite, but this was no help. As a result Stacey and I ended up sleeping in the "Penthouse" and the two guys had to sleep in bunk beds in an eight person room. After warming the bed with a space heater we tried to fall asleep. It was tough with the cats in heat outside on the streets and a clock tower ringing all night long, but we finally managed to get some rest.

Warming up my feet in the sink

Live and Learn

It all started when the power went out...that's when I decided to start blogging. I had been living in China for a year and a half and stuff like that had just become too normal. So, it's going on the record now. This way, in a couple of years when I move away from this place I can remember everything, good and bad, that I saw and felt and was a part of.

I had been living in my apartment for 11 months with no problem, well no big problems. (The heat did barely work in the winter - to the point that I would turn a blow dryer on at night to warm my bed up and then jump inside and try to fall asleep before it got cold again, and then the air conditioner in my bedroom broke at the beginning of summer and was not replaced for two weeks.) But my landlord was a nice guy and we got along okay. Until July. I was away for work when my boyfriend told me that the electricity had been shut off in the apartment. I pay my electricity bills, so he just figured I was delinquent and went down to the management office to get things sorted. It was then that he discovered the landlord had not paid the management fee since October 2005. The management company did the only thing they could: shut off the electricity.

Logic works differently in China. You would think it is the same the world over, or at least I used to think so, but it's definitely not. Somehow turning off the electricity, without any notice, in an apartment they know is rented out, punishes the landlord, who is in reality, at home enjoying air conditioning and light. When I asked him what was going on, his reply was that he was "stuggling" with the management and that it would probably not be resolved any time soon.

There are laws against this sort of thing, but I was told that they are "hazy" and that calling the police would be ineffective, because they would come, but would do nothing. That's nice.

So, I basically walked around my apartment at night, sweating my ass off in the middle of summer, with a backpacking headlamp on my head. My freezer full of rasperries, blackberries and blueberries defrosted all over the kitchen floor - which left a purple stain that will never be removed. My neighbors probably thought it was a little weird when they saw me sitting in the hallway reading, with my two cats and a pillow. (However, they did not respond two weeks later when, out of desperation, I put a note on their door requesting to pay them in advance for letting me run an extension cord to plug in my air conditioner at night.) Every time I saw a security guard, I was quick to inform him that #1353 had no electricity and he would scurry off the tell the management of this emergency, but nothing changed.

Situations like this are always exaserbated here in Beijing, because of the communication gap produced by not being fluent in Chinese. I study Chinese, but unfortunately "Electricity Crisis" hasn't been the topic of any of the chapters in my books. This results in trying to use other words to talk about the problem, which leads to a lot of frustration on both sides - and some laughing, thank goodness.

The strange thing is that if the same situation had been taking place anywhere else, I would have been mad, really mad. But you can't get mad here. The people you brush shoulders with every single day have either been through so much more in their past or are going through so much more right now. While I was without electricity in my nice, comfortable, expensive western style apartment, migrant workers were living in a building made of cardboard on the property behind mine. They had no electricity, plumbing, and were walking around on a dirt floor. The security guards I was informing of my situation were living in a small room with twelve guys sleeping in bunk beds in the basement of my building and getting paid $100 a month for working 12-hour shifts. And this is modern China, in the capital, a huge international city. These guys count themselves lucky compared to the people in the countryside. And that's to say nothing of the insaneness of some of the historical events they have lived through. So I complained some to my friends and colleagues, who were all very sympathic but not at all surprised, and then just let it be.

I started looking for an apartment and finally found one three weeks later. In the meantime I stayed some hotter nights with very generous friends. It worked out though, because I love my new place.

The first question asked: What's the landlord's status with her managment fee?

Live and learn, right?