I knew about the poor air quality in Vietnam. I knew about all the cars and motorbikes. I knew about the pollution. But the thing I didn't know was how much the Vietnamese love to dirty their own air. The smell of smoke is constantly filling the air. The acrid scent comes out of nowhere and always raises the question, "what are they burning now?"
The lack of concern for the environment is baffleing at times. People don't need a permit and don't give a care to set a pile or this and that ablaze. Fires are lit right in front of stores, restaurants and houses. There is little to no concern for anyone when these fires are lit; children, pets and passing motorists must dodge the smoke and avoid the fire, a lesson learned young.
Usually, the smoke comes from homes and restaurants cooking dinner. BBQ is an important part of the food and the culture. There is a delicious dish "bun cha" which consists of a bowl of thin noodles and fresh veggies in a cold sweet, watery sauce with pieces of barbequed meat and sausage patties on top for good measure. Truly delicious but the restaurants are not the type of place where you can avoid the heat and enjoy a few drinks. The smoke from the BBQ and the little or no ventilation will always make you ask for the bill before you finish eating. There are lots of street side restaurants that cook this dish and make a mess while doing it. The smoke that's made from one tiny grill is amazing. The thick black smoke pours down the street, and blankets the streets, making it difficult to drive or even walk through.
The smoke also comes from, yep, you guessed it, garbage. Not only do Hanoians think that it's OK to throw their garbage to the curb of busy streets, they also believe that setting it on fire gets rid of any trace with no after effects! I've often walked in the streets late at night and forced to dodge flying debris and walk over smoldering charcol. The most astonishing thing is that these fires are only about four or five feet from the store's opening. I wonder how many clothing stores have caught on fire due to negligence caused by a single spark.
One reason that burning is so popular is that it's part religious. The Vietnamese regularly pay homage to their elders by presenting offerings of food and drink in front of alters. They also burn incense and fake money for their relatives to spend in the afterlife. Vietnamese dong as well as US one-hundred dollar bills are printed for the purposes of burning. Some call it fraud but the Vietnamese call it tradition. You can't really argue with tradition so you wear a mask and turn your head, just like everyone else. Who am I to argue with tradition?
One Night in the Country
I'd reached the six-month mark of my time in Vietnam and in that time, I'd been to a few major cities throughout the country, but never to the small towns that surround them. You know the towns I mean; the farming areas that are the backdrop of all Vietnamese movies: workers in a rice field wearing conical hats, water buffaloes lazily chewing on grass and American fighter planes covering the scene with shells and chemicals. I'd always wanted to see that part of the country (minus the Agent Orange), so when my colleague offered an invitation to visit her hometown, I eagerly accepted.
My colleague, Hoang Anh comes from a small town in Bac Giang province, just north of Hanoi, about a two hour bus ride. My girlfriend and I went with her and her high school friend to spend the weekend with her parents. We were dropped off at a bus stop in her hometown, right in front of the local market in the town centre. As soon as we got off the bus, we had the attention of the entire town. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Hoang Anh told us that we had been the first foreigners to visit the town for four years, when some tourists rode through on motor bikes. We knew we'd be the gossip of the town for days to follow.
The town was quiet, empty and clean, just as I'd imagined. It was such a welcomed break from the noisy, crowded and polluted streets of Hanoi. The people of the town were self-sufficient. Although it wasn't a farming town, almost all the people had yards that were part garden, part chicken coop and part pig pen. They cooked all of their meals with their own vegetables and raised their own animals to eat. We arrived at Hoang Anh's house to find a huge meal laid out for us, made of fresh ingredients straight from the garden (the chicken blood and feathers on the ground gave it away).
Her parents were extraordinarily generous. Although they spoke no English, and me no Vietnamese, the made us feel extremely welcome, and Hoang Anh was an excellent translator. They fed us like kings and were very hospitable - such is the Vietnamese custom for any invited guest. They shared information about their lives in the country, and told us some stories about their children growing up. This was exactly the kind of country hospitality that I remember in Canada. So many similarities, yet still, distinctly Vietnam.
I could not say enough about the kindness of Hoang Anh's family. They welcomed us into their home even though we had never met before. Before we left Hanoi, we decided to bring along some chocolates and a bottle of wine to say thank you to our gracious hosts. We gave them the presents over dinner but, as it turns out, they didn't have a corkscrew and neither did anyone in the entire town. Not to be rude about their gift, they were determined to open the wine. They had suggested breaking the neck of the bottle and then picking out pieces of glass but then committed to opening the bottle, not by taking the cork out, but by pushing the cork in. We all had a laugh as they tried the wine, drinking it as a shot like they do with the Vietnamese wine. The mother made a sour face and really didn't agree with the wine. We made the same face at their Vietnamese wine that they poured every time we emptied our cup.
They had fed us at every opportunity and presented us with a feast each time. We ate and drank merrily as if we were part of the family. The mother and the girls put hours into preparing and cooking each meal and then did all of the washing up afterwards. Meanwhile, the father and I sat in the living room over some green tea and enjoyed the silence and clean air of the country side. We were soon joined by my girlfriend who was shooed out of the kitchen for not being Vietnamese and therefore, being in the way. The three of us sat and quietly watched the rain fall, a joy that we don't get much from living in Hanoi. It was the true Vietnam; the pure, down to earth image with good hearted people with clear and honest intentions.
When night came, there was little to do. The darkness was almost overwhelming. The big open sky was swallowed up by darkness and all signs of life had disappeared under the night sky. I hadn't seen anything like it since leaving Canada. When it was time for bed, we went into our room that had no mattress, instead there was a thin bamboo mat on a bed frame surrounded by a mosquito net and a worn out fan that failed at keeping the heat down: simple, easy and wonderful.
We woke up early in the morning to an extravagant breakfast spread bigger than dinner. We were told to eat everything because Hoang Anh and her mother were up since 5am preparing the meal. The bus came to pick us up at their front door. The parents came out to the bus with us and bid us farewell. It was a sad thought to return to Hanoi after being in a place that reminded me so much of home. We were invited back at anytime and with the reception we received, we can't pass up that offer. If you'd like, I'll extend the invitation.
My colleague, Hoang Anh comes from a small town in Bac Giang province, just north of Hanoi, about a two hour bus ride. My girlfriend and I went with her and her high school friend to spend the weekend with her parents. We were dropped off at a bus stop in her hometown, right in front of the local market in the town centre. As soon as we got off the bus, we had the attention of the entire town. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Hoang Anh told us that we had been the first foreigners to visit the town for four years, when some tourists rode through on motor bikes. We knew we'd be the gossip of the town for days to follow.
The town was quiet, empty and clean, just as I'd imagined. It was such a welcomed break from the noisy, crowded and polluted streets of Hanoi. The people of the town were self-sufficient. Although it wasn't a farming town, almost all the people had yards that were part garden, part chicken coop and part pig pen. They cooked all of their meals with their own vegetables and raised their own animals to eat. We arrived at Hoang Anh's house to find a huge meal laid out for us, made of fresh ingredients straight from the garden (the chicken blood and feathers on the ground gave it away).
Her parents were extraordinarily generous. Although they spoke no English, and me no Vietnamese, the made us feel extremely welcome, and Hoang Anh was an excellent translator. They fed us like kings and were very hospitable - such is the Vietnamese custom for any invited guest. They shared information about their lives in the country, and told us some stories about their children growing up. This was exactly the kind of country hospitality that I remember in Canada. So many similarities, yet still, distinctly Vietnam.
I could not say enough about the kindness of Hoang Anh's family. They welcomed us into their home even though we had never met before. Before we left Hanoi, we decided to bring along some chocolates and a bottle of wine to say thank you to our gracious hosts. We gave them the presents over dinner but, as it turns out, they didn't have a corkscrew and neither did anyone in the entire town. Not to be rude about their gift, they were determined to open the wine. They had suggested breaking the neck of the bottle and then picking out pieces of glass but then committed to opening the bottle, not by taking the cork out, but by pushing the cork in. We all had a laugh as they tried the wine, drinking it as a shot like they do with the Vietnamese wine. The mother made a sour face and really didn't agree with the wine. We made the same face at their Vietnamese wine that they poured every time we emptied our cup.
They had fed us at every opportunity and presented us with a feast each time. We ate and drank merrily as if we were part of the family. The mother and the girls put hours into preparing and cooking each meal and then did all of the washing up afterwards. Meanwhile, the father and I sat in the living room over some green tea and enjoyed the silence and clean air of the country side. We were soon joined by my girlfriend who was shooed out of the kitchen for not being Vietnamese and therefore, being in the way. The three of us sat and quietly watched the rain fall, a joy that we don't get much from living in Hanoi. It was the true Vietnam; the pure, down to earth image with good hearted people with clear and honest intentions.
When night came, there was little to do. The darkness was almost overwhelming. The big open sky was swallowed up by darkness and all signs of life had disappeared under the night sky. I hadn't seen anything like it since leaving Canada. When it was time for bed, we went into our room that had no mattress, instead there was a thin bamboo mat on a bed frame surrounded by a mosquito net and a worn out fan that failed at keeping the heat down: simple, easy and wonderful.
We woke up early in the morning to an extravagant breakfast spread bigger than dinner. We were told to eat everything because Hoang Anh and her mother were up since 5am preparing the meal. The bus came to pick us up at their front door. The parents came out to the bus with us and bid us farewell. It was a sad thought to return to Hanoi after being in a place that reminded me so much of home. We were invited back at anytime and with the reception we received, we can't pass up that offer. If you'd like, I'll extend the invitation.
The Art of Bartering
Knowing how to barter is an important lesson learned quickly by traveller, back packer or expat. It can be frustrating at first but the game is simple when you understand it and you must play the game if you want to understand. If you want to try your hand at bartering you must realize that it's all about attitude. If you show any amount of interest in an item, or give it a second glance, you'll be at the mercy of the vendor. You should never look or act excited about the item, even if it's exactly what you were looking for. If the vendor has something that you're looking for, they'll be less likely to part with it at a low price.
You can easily get the vendor down to a low price because they want to make a sale. Realize that the item sold on the street is not good quality (duh) and is probably worth half as much as they say it is. Think of a price you'd like to pay and go even lower. Stick with your initial quote and make them bring the price down to the price you want. Also, if you start to walk away, the vendor sees your money walking away with you.
To demonstrate this proper method, allow me to share with you a conversation I had when buying a pair of "Adidas" flip flops (the following conversation was made in broken English and broken Vietnamese):
-Hello! Come and see!
-No thanks, I don't want.
-Yes, yes. I have your size. Very cheap. (pulling my arm) Come, come.
-Oh, alright! Hmmm... these are OK. Size 11, you have?
-Oh! Very big! I'll check, maybe no have. (two minutes later) Here. Try.
-Yeah, not bad. How much?
-Good price. Three hundred thousand dong ($20)
-Whoa! Expensive! No thanks!
-OK, you say to me how much.
-One hundred thousand ($6).
-I'm sorry, I can't do. I give you for two hundred fifty.
-Too expensive.
-But good quality. Look, Adidas!
-(pointing to the top) Here Adidas, (after turning the shoe over) here Quicksilver!
-OK, OK. You're very handsome, two hundred.
-No. One hundred.
-One hundred eighty.
-I only have one hundred thousand. That's it.
-Sir, please. I can't do. Please. One hundred eighty is lowest.
-Sorry (as I begin to walk away)
-OK, OK. One hundred thousand. Only for you, my friend.
-Thank you very much. I'll take two pairs.
You can easily get the vendor down to a low price because they want to make a sale. Realize that the item sold on the street is not good quality (duh) and is probably worth half as much as they say it is. Think of a price you'd like to pay and go even lower. Stick with your initial quote and make them bring the price down to the price you want. Also, if you start to walk away, the vendor sees your money walking away with you.
To demonstrate this proper method, allow me to share with you a conversation I had when buying a pair of "Adidas" flip flops (the following conversation was made in broken English and broken Vietnamese):
-Hello! Come and see!
-No thanks, I don't want.
-Yes, yes. I have your size. Very cheap. (pulling my arm) Come, come.
-Oh, alright! Hmmm... these are OK. Size 11, you have?
-Oh! Very big! I'll check, maybe no have. (two minutes later) Here. Try.
-Yeah, not bad. How much?
-Good price. Three hundred thousand dong ($20)
-Whoa! Expensive! No thanks!
-OK, you say to me how much.
-One hundred thousand ($6).
-I'm sorry, I can't do. I give you for two hundred fifty.
-Too expensive.
-But good quality. Look, Adidas!
-(pointing to the top) Here Adidas, (after turning the shoe over) here Quicksilver!
-OK, OK. You're very handsome, two hundred.
-No. One hundred.
-One hundred eighty.
-I only have one hundred thousand. That's it.
-Sir, please. I can't do. Please. One hundred eighty is lowest.
-Sorry (as I begin to walk away)
-OK, OK. One hundred thousand. Only for you, my friend.
-Thank you very much. I'll take two pairs.
Street Shops
In a developing nation like Vietnam, you'd might think that there is no presence of franchise stores and brand name shops. In fact, there are plenty of signs of Western influence in businesses, stores like Levis, BMW, Rolex and KFC are prominent. There are shopping malls, supermarkets and convenience stores but these are mainly used by government officials or foreigners; the only ones who can afford such luxuries. The majority of daily shopping is still done in traditional markets and roadside stalls.
To buy any groceries, go no further than to the end of your street. There are usually multiple women pushing small carts catering to many different (but simple) foods. The area where these women congregate is usually bustling in the morning with people buying fresh fruits, vegetables, meat and fish. The food here is sometimes cheaper than in supermarkets but the quality can be compromised. There's something about buying unpackaged beef that has been sitting on a table in 35-40 degree heat, that I just don't trust.
Buying food on the street helps to become part of the community. It keeps money local and provides some of the locals a chance to make some extra money, or it may be the family's only income. For a foreigner living in Vietnam, it is the only way you can become part of the neighborhood. Visiting the markets for your daily fruits and veggies gives you a chance to practice speaking Vietnamese in a comfortable, laid back environment. Many of the vendors see the markets as an active social activity, and what better place to become involved with the people in your neighborhood?
As for clothes, name brands from the West are huge! However, the range of fakes and copies of name brands is also huge. You can buy knock-off shirts, pants, shoes, wallets, purses, bags; anything at all. Keeping up with the latest styles from Europe is simple, especially when they make the products in the country. Some of the knock-offs are painfully obvious and quite laughable but others are remarkably identical to their store bought counterpart. The quality of some goods can be unmistakable with the real thing and this means one of two things; the owner doesn't realize that they have something authentic or these things "fell off a truck."
Some of the shop owners take advantage of having "name brand" goods and see it as an opportunity to raise the prices exceedingly high, especially for foreigners. Since nothing in Vietnam has a price tag, the store owners charge whatever they feel like charging on that day, and the prices can change from person to person. The only way around this is to familiarize yourself with the ancient art of bartering; a skill that needs its own article to be explained effectively.
To buy any groceries, go no further than to the end of your street. There are usually multiple women pushing small carts catering to many different (but simple) foods. The area where these women congregate is usually bustling in the morning with people buying fresh fruits, vegetables, meat and fish. The food here is sometimes cheaper than in supermarkets but the quality can be compromised. There's something about buying unpackaged beef that has been sitting on a table in 35-40 degree heat, that I just don't trust.
Buying food on the street helps to become part of the community. It keeps money local and provides some of the locals a chance to make some extra money, or it may be the family's only income. For a foreigner living in Vietnam, it is the only way you can become part of the neighborhood. Visiting the markets for your daily fruits and veggies gives you a chance to practice speaking Vietnamese in a comfortable, laid back environment. Many of the vendors see the markets as an active social activity, and what better place to become involved with the people in your neighborhood?
As for clothes, name brands from the West are huge! However, the range of fakes and copies of name brands is also huge. You can buy knock-off shirts, pants, shoes, wallets, purses, bags; anything at all. Keeping up with the latest styles from Europe is simple, especially when they make the products in the country. Some of the knock-offs are painfully obvious and quite laughable but others are remarkably identical to their store bought counterpart. The quality of some goods can be unmistakable with the real thing and this means one of two things; the owner doesn't realize that they have something authentic or these things "fell off a truck."
Some of the shop owners take advantage of having "name brand" goods and see it as an opportunity to raise the prices exceedingly high, especially for foreigners. Since nothing in Vietnam has a price tag, the store owners charge whatever they feel like charging on that day, and the prices can change from person to person. The only way around this is to familiarize yourself with the ancient art of bartering; a skill that needs its own article to be explained effectively.
Heating Up
Uugggghh... this heat!
It's been summer-like conditions since March. The sun is oppressive by midday and because of this, I try to avoid going out during the day and only leave the comfort of my air conditioned room when it's absolutely necessary. I've even changed my job from teaching daytime to teaching only in the evenings.
Gotta stay out of the sun. Gotta keep cool.
Beautiful blue skies and tropical conditions are best avoided because they bring scorching sun and blistering heat. The rain is welcomed as a fresh relief and the night it the only time when it's comfortable enough to go out. The hottest summer days in Canada are the "cooler" days here in Hanoi. Not being used to such heat, I've had to choice but to accept it. There's no way out: I'm trapped in this oven they call a country.
The heat and humidity wouldn't be so bad if there was only a breeze throughout the city. Many Hanoians find coolness from the many lakes that are scattered over the city. The largest lake in Hanoi is "West Lake" (13 km in circumference). Many five-star hotels crowd the north end of West Lake, all of which have beautiful swimming pools overlooking the lake. A great getaway. Many couples stroll the paths around the lake and sit under the shade of the trees to stay comfortable.
The traffic is also obedient to the torturous sun. At every stop light, the parts of the road shaded by trees are more quickly occupied than a position at the front of the pack. Many motorists wear extra clothing to protect their skin from the sun. Women wear their husband's long-sleeve shirts not only to protect themselves from the sun, but also to keep clean from the dirty streets.
My resolution has been to deal with the heat as best I can. That includes air conditioners, shade, fans (electric and handheld), cold drinks, shorts, sandals and multiple showers. I also ride on motorbikes instead of cabs just to get a cooler breeze. I guess it's not too serious; summer will be over in another four months. At that time the temperature will drop back down to 20 degrees...uugghh.
It's been summer-like conditions since March. The sun is oppressive by midday and because of this, I try to avoid going out during the day and only leave the comfort of my air conditioned room when it's absolutely necessary. I've even changed my job from teaching daytime to teaching only in the evenings.
Gotta stay out of the sun. Gotta keep cool.
Beautiful blue skies and tropical conditions are best avoided because they bring scorching sun and blistering heat. The rain is welcomed as a fresh relief and the night it the only time when it's comfortable enough to go out. The hottest summer days in Canada are the "cooler" days here in Hanoi. Not being used to such heat, I've had to choice but to accept it. There's no way out: I'm trapped in this oven they call a country.
The heat and humidity wouldn't be so bad if there was only a breeze throughout the city. Many Hanoians find coolness from the many lakes that are scattered over the city. The largest lake in Hanoi is "West Lake" (13 km in circumference). Many five-star hotels crowd the north end of West Lake, all of which have beautiful swimming pools overlooking the lake. A great getaway. Many couples stroll the paths around the lake and sit under the shade of the trees to stay comfortable.
The traffic is also obedient to the torturous sun. At every stop light, the parts of the road shaded by trees are more quickly occupied than a position at the front of the pack. Many motorists wear extra clothing to protect their skin from the sun. Women wear their husband's long-sleeve shirts not only to protect themselves from the sun, but also to keep clean from the dirty streets.
My resolution has been to deal with the heat as best I can. That includes air conditioners, shade, fans (electric and handheld), cold drinks, shorts, sandals and multiple showers. I also ride on motorbikes instead of cabs just to get a cooler breeze. I guess it's not too serious; summer will be over in another four months. At that time the temperature will drop back down to 20 degrees...uugghh.
Going Out in Hanoi
Social outings are a huge part of an ex-pat's life. With your family and friends 12,000kms away, a close bond is developed with the people you meet despite only knowing them for a few months. Your close network of friends quickly becomes your family and your family grows every time you go out for a drink. Getting together at a local bar or bia hoi also becomes a customary gathering where you match stories about the strangest thing you saw that day or vent about Hanoi annoyances ("Hannoyances" for short). Meeting for dinner and drinks after work becomes a necessity for a temporary escape from the insanity of living in a city where nothing makes sense and everything is strange.
There are lots of places to visit if you're looking for an after dinner drink (or ten). Lots of watering holes, dance clubs and chill out bars. All are good depending on your mood and how you feel like spending the night. I especially like the chill out bars were you can sit and chat with friends over some cold beer. On a good night, your night can consist of combination of all types of bars; bouncing around from place to place to see what feels right and to find your groove for the night. The prices and crowds don't vary that much from place to place and most are located on the same streets, which makes a bar crawl take on a very literal term.
However, nightlife in Hanoi is not all it's cracked up to be. All restaurants and bars have a curfew of 12am, meaning a packed club filled with good folks having a good time must be cut short. Some of the more law biding establishments will start shutting down at 11:30 and provide plastic cups for you to take your beer home or for a walk down the street. There are other bars that stay open later to convenience the ex pat community but these places are subject to routine "raids" by the police after hours. The police are often given a bribe by the bar owners that provides them to stay open for another hour or whenever the police come around for their next nightly round.
The ultimate Hanoi nightlife experience is going to one of the popular after hour bars. When you arrive at the bar it appears closed for the night, but as you approach the door, the lookout stationed outside will let you in provided that the police are nowhere to be seen. Once inside, the bar looks like the inside of any club, with music playing, drinks flowing, people being loud and having a good time. However, when the police show up outside, the music is cut and the staff quickly tell everyone to be quiet. Standing in a crowded room filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of spilt beer, we wait in silence for the police to go away so we can go on with our night. It feels eerily like a junior high party in your parents basement when you hear someone stirring upstairs. Only this time, it's not dad telling you to be quiet and go tos sleep, it's the Hanoian police with bats and guns. A true Hanoian (Hannoying) experience!
There are lots of places to visit if you're looking for an after dinner drink (or ten). Lots of watering holes, dance clubs and chill out bars. All are good depending on your mood and how you feel like spending the night. I especially like the chill out bars were you can sit and chat with friends over some cold beer. On a good night, your night can consist of combination of all types of bars; bouncing around from place to place to see what feels right and to find your groove for the night. The prices and crowds don't vary that much from place to place and most are located on the same streets, which makes a bar crawl take on a very literal term.
However, nightlife in Hanoi is not all it's cracked up to be. All restaurants and bars have a curfew of 12am, meaning a packed club filled with good folks having a good time must be cut short. Some of the more law biding establishments will start shutting down at 11:30 and provide plastic cups for you to take your beer home or for a walk down the street. There are other bars that stay open later to convenience the ex pat community but these places are subject to routine "raids" by the police after hours. The police are often given a bribe by the bar owners that provides them to stay open for another hour or whenever the police come around for their next nightly round.
The ultimate Hanoi nightlife experience is going to one of the popular after hour bars. When you arrive at the bar it appears closed for the night, but as you approach the door, the lookout stationed outside will let you in provided that the police are nowhere to be seen. Once inside, the bar looks like the inside of any club, with music playing, drinks flowing, people being loud and having a good time. However, when the police show up outside, the music is cut and the staff quickly tell everyone to be quiet. Standing in a crowded room filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of spilt beer, we wait in silence for the police to go away so we can go on with our night. It feels eerily like a junior high party in your parents basement when you hear someone stirring upstairs. Only this time, it's not dad telling you to be quiet and go tos sleep, it's the Hanoian police with bats and guns. A true Hanoian (Hannoying) experience!
Uncle Ho
Although I am amazed at the traffic in this city, I have been to the countryside and have seen how quiet it can be. I am in awe of tiny side street restaurants but I can find some familiarity with a burger and draught beer in a foreigner owned pub. So far, Hanoi has shown me many different sides of itself and the things that confuse or leave me shocked and open jawed are partnered with an easily digestible version. The only thing that still leaves me perplexed is the admiration that all Vietnamese have for their past president, Ho Chi Minh.
Vietnamese have celebrated the memory of Ho Chi Minh with many parks, streets and memorial buildings bearing his name, while propaganda posters still bear his image. The largest city and the commercial hub of Vietnam is even named after him. In the heart of Hanoi, there lies the "Ho Chi Minh Complex," which contains the Ho Chi Minh Museum, his previous stilt house and his Mausoleum. However, the construction of these buildings were against many of his wishes. He did not want to be remembered as a larger than life deity, and often demonstrated his connection to the common man and his loyalty to the traditional Vietnamese way of life.
"Uncle Ho," as he's affectionately known, is a looming, ubiquitous presence in Hanoi and all of Vietnam. His adoration is unmatched and unchallenged. Young students are taught to respect and admire his actions while the older generations fondly remember his leadership and influence over the nation. Foreigners remember him as the guy on Vietnam currency whom you should never talk negatively against.
Any negative comments about the great leader of Vietnam are taken very seriously by Vietnamese. I am weary to say anything bad about Ho Chi Minh or the government for fear of a negative reaction. This is a socialist republic after all. The people must work together, think the same and hold the same values in order to protect the sanctity of the nation. I am constantly told and reminded about his greatness and all that he has done for Vietnam. Throughout my conversations with some of my Vietnamese friends, I try to make them question their constant devotion to Uncle Ho and provide them with an outside perspective, one that hasn't been raised on his teachings. They unfailingly defend their beliefs and try to recruit me to think the same.
During one of my recent classes, I asked the students to think of one person, alive or dead, who they would like to invite to dinner and their reasons why. I got the expected answers of pop stars and international cultural icons like Britney Spears, David Beckham and President Obama but was surprised by one student who wished to dine with Ho Chi Minh. When asked his reasons for choosing Uncle Ho above someone more current or popular with someone his age, he told me that Uncle Ho was the greatest president of Vietnam and everyone should continue to respect his memory. The other students agreed with him and wanted to change their choice; whether from genuine desire, fear or intimidation, I really don't know.
Vietnamese have celebrated the memory of Ho Chi Minh with many parks, streets and memorial buildings bearing his name, while propaganda posters still bear his image. The largest city and the commercial hub of Vietnam is even named after him. In the heart of Hanoi, there lies the "Ho Chi Minh Complex," which contains the Ho Chi Minh Museum, his previous stilt house and his Mausoleum. However, the construction of these buildings were against many of his wishes. He did not want to be remembered as a larger than life deity, and often demonstrated his connection to the common man and his loyalty to the traditional Vietnamese way of life.
"Uncle Ho," as he's affectionately known, is a looming, ubiquitous presence in Hanoi and all of Vietnam. His adoration is unmatched and unchallenged. Young students are taught to respect and admire his actions while the older generations fondly remember his leadership and influence over the nation. Foreigners remember him as the guy on Vietnam currency whom you should never talk negatively against.
Any negative comments about the great leader of Vietnam are taken very seriously by Vietnamese. I am weary to say anything bad about Ho Chi Minh or the government for fear of a negative reaction. This is a socialist republic after all. The people must work together, think the same and hold the same values in order to protect the sanctity of the nation. I am constantly told and reminded about his greatness and all that he has done for Vietnam. Throughout my conversations with some of my Vietnamese friends, I try to make them question their constant devotion to Uncle Ho and provide them with an outside perspective, one that hasn't been raised on his teachings. They unfailingly defend their beliefs and try to recruit me to think the same.
During one of my recent classes, I asked the students to think of one person, alive or dead, who they would like to invite to dinner and their reasons why. I got the expected answers of pop stars and international cultural icons like Britney Spears, David Beckham and President Obama but was surprised by one student who wished to dine with Ho Chi Minh. When asked his reasons for choosing Uncle Ho above someone more current or popular with someone his age, he told me that Uncle Ho was the greatest president of Vietnam and everyone should continue to respect his memory. The other students agreed with him and wanted to change their choice; whether from genuine desire, fear or intimidation, I really don't know.
Fine Drinking: Hanoi Style
Hanoi's drinking culture is very similar to its eating culture. There are lots of places to wet your whistle and mix with the locals. Normally, the places are street side joints equipped with the same small tables and chairs found in pho restaurants. Shuffling from restaurant to restaurant, I begin to wonder if they even make anything other than doll house sized furniture. However, the flow of beer and good times makes it easier to deal with the squatting conditions and the cramp in my leg.
The ever popular "bia hoi" is a marvel in all of Vietnam. Full during all hours of the day and night, these beer halls are a staple of Vietnamese culture. It has its place as the premier social meeting spot for midday lunch or late night get-togethers for most Vietnamese. These halls are used to meet with friends or to meet with coworkers; to celebrate a special occasion or to discuss the days events over a few cold ones. The customers also range from business men in suits to housewives in pajamas; local Vietnamese to travelers from all over the world. A cultural experience like no other!
Fresh draught beer is served at pennies a glass and are usually quite tasty if not high in alcohol percentage. The price of a glass of beer is so low that at 25 cents a glass, the cleanliness of the establishment does not even factor into the enjoyment of the bia hoi. A good bia hoi needs lots of space, a collection of different characters and, of course, a free flow of Hanoi's finest beer. Escaping the heat in a bia hoi is a common past time and a necessary act in the oppressive Vietnamese summer. The humidity is unavoidable and a cool beer is exactly what the doctor ordered.
These beer halls also serve as restaurants serving a variety of dishes usually coated in MSG. The food can be as cheap as the beer itself and is also surprisingly enjoyable for the price. The menus are usually in Vietnamese and difficult to translate, especially after a few beer. The staff are usually mindful of this and try to make suggestions accommodating to a foreigners palate. Some spots provide menus with picture references, but if all else fails, looking around at other tables and pointing at dishes being enjoyed by the Vietnamese works wonders!
However, the local bia hoi is not the only place to enjoy Hanoi beer. All of the small convenience stores sell bottles of beer for cheap. And the best part is that they can be enjoyed while walking down the streets at your own leisure. This is one of the amazing things about Vietnam and the rest of Asia. Asian countries definitely know how to enjoy their beer but my only complaint is that they don't make beer like we do in the Maritimes. If you're reading this, please send Keith's!
The ever popular "bia hoi" is a marvel in all of Vietnam. Full during all hours of the day and night, these beer halls are a staple of Vietnamese culture. It has its place as the premier social meeting spot for midday lunch or late night get-togethers for most Vietnamese. These halls are used to meet with friends or to meet with coworkers; to celebrate a special occasion or to discuss the days events over a few cold ones. The customers also range from business men in suits to housewives in pajamas; local Vietnamese to travelers from all over the world. A cultural experience like no other!
Fresh draught beer is served at pennies a glass and are usually quite tasty if not high in alcohol percentage. The price of a glass of beer is so low that at 25 cents a glass, the cleanliness of the establishment does not even factor into the enjoyment of the bia hoi. A good bia hoi needs lots of space, a collection of different characters and, of course, a free flow of Hanoi's finest beer. Escaping the heat in a bia hoi is a common past time and a necessary act in the oppressive Vietnamese summer. The humidity is unavoidable and a cool beer is exactly what the doctor ordered.
These beer halls also serve as restaurants serving a variety of dishes usually coated in MSG. The food can be as cheap as the beer itself and is also surprisingly enjoyable for the price. The menus are usually in Vietnamese and difficult to translate, especially after a few beer. The staff are usually mindful of this and try to make suggestions accommodating to a foreigners palate. Some spots provide menus with picture references, but if all else fails, looking around at other tables and pointing at dishes being enjoyed by the Vietnamese works wonders!
However, the local bia hoi is not the only place to enjoy Hanoi beer. All of the small convenience stores sell bottles of beer for cheap. And the best part is that they can be enjoyed while walking down the streets at your own leisure. This is one of the amazing things about Vietnam and the rest of Asia. Asian countries definitely know how to enjoy their beer but my only complaint is that they don't make beer like we do in the Maritimes. If you're reading this, please send Keith's!
Fine Dining: Hanoi Style
Hanoi has a reputation for having one of the finest cuisines in Vietnam, albeit the World. Of course, this opinion is widely held by the Vietnamese who are living, eating and cooking in Hanoi. Hanoi's best places to eat are not what you would call "fine dining." There is no guest list and you can't call ahead to book a table. Normally there are only two or three tables anyway, but if they're full, you can just go next door where you can find the same meal. Uhh, can I use the term "next door" if there are no doors?
The best places to eat in Hanoi can be found directly on Hanoi's streets. These street side restaurants are limitless and popular with locals and foreigners alike. Small and dirty but they do the trick. They are just like outdoor kitchens, the cooking and preparing are done right in front of you and practically at your table. All of these restaurants are perched on sidewalks and outfitted with plastic tables and chairs that appear to belong at a six year old's birthday party. Reminiscent of the "kiddie table" I remember from family gatherings, complete with disregard for table manners and inappropriate conversations for the dinner table.
The restaurants have a very simple menu, in fact they only offer a flat noodle soup called "pho" (pronounced "fuh"). You know exactly what you're going to get, no matter the size or cleanliness of the location. As you take your seat in the miniaturized plastic chair, there is only one concern; chicken or beef? The food is good and cheap but the real reason for sitting down for a bowl of pho is to eat along side the rest of the people in your neighborhood. Learning bits of Vietnamese while slurping your noodles and burping loudly to show the cook how much you loved the meal. Honestly mom, it's part of the culture!
I've recently found another hidden gem in Hanoi. A street with a number of restaurants called "fried chicken street" and it does not disappoint. The sidewalk on both sides is lined with similar fried chicken restaurants but we always seem to meet friends at the restaurant on the end of the street, passing by the sweet, sweet smells of barbeque and charcoal. The restaurants offer a simple menu of fried chicken (yes, every part of the chicken. Try to avoid the feet!), cucumber salad and grilled bread cooked with a sweet glaze. A complete meal covering all of the necessary food groups: fried, sugared and MSG. The lone drawback to all you can eat greasy chicken is the warm beer. The restaurants are outside, so they don't have fridges, their own lights or electricity, but they do cook a delicious piece of chicken!
Food comes in all different ways but here in Hanoi, it's guaranteed to be fast, fresh and to fill you up. Eating is a large part of Vietnamese culture. Opposite from the language, traditions and political theory, this is one part of the culture I can easily understand and vigorously take part in.
The best places to eat in Hanoi can be found directly on Hanoi's streets. These street side restaurants are limitless and popular with locals and foreigners alike. Small and dirty but they do the trick. They are just like outdoor kitchens, the cooking and preparing are done right in front of you and practically at your table. All of these restaurants are perched on sidewalks and outfitted with plastic tables and chairs that appear to belong at a six year old's birthday party. Reminiscent of the "kiddie table" I remember from family gatherings, complete with disregard for table manners and inappropriate conversations for the dinner table.
The restaurants have a very simple menu, in fact they only offer a flat noodle soup called "pho" (pronounced "fuh"). You know exactly what you're going to get, no matter the size or cleanliness of the location. As you take your seat in the miniaturized plastic chair, there is only one concern; chicken or beef? The food is good and cheap but the real reason for sitting down for a bowl of pho is to eat along side the rest of the people in your neighborhood. Learning bits of Vietnamese while slurping your noodles and burping loudly to show the cook how much you loved the meal. Honestly mom, it's part of the culture!
I've recently found another hidden gem in Hanoi. A street with a number of restaurants called "fried chicken street" and it does not disappoint. The sidewalk on both sides is lined with similar fried chicken restaurants but we always seem to meet friends at the restaurant on the end of the street, passing by the sweet, sweet smells of barbeque and charcoal. The restaurants offer a simple menu of fried chicken (yes, every part of the chicken. Try to avoid the feet!), cucumber salad and grilled bread cooked with a sweet glaze. A complete meal covering all of the necessary food groups: fried, sugared and MSG. The lone drawback to all you can eat greasy chicken is the warm beer. The restaurants are outside, so they don't have fridges, their own lights or electricity, but they do cook a delicious piece of chicken!
Food comes in all different ways but here in Hanoi, it's guaranteed to be fast, fresh and to fill you up. Eating is a large part of Vietnamese culture. Opposite from the language, traditions and political theory, this is one part of the culture I can easily understand and vigorously take part in.
The Madness
First impression of Hanoi: amazing!
First impression of Hanoian streets: fucking INSANE!!
The streets of Hanoi are constantly filled with motorbikes zooming up and down, round and round. People going fast, going slow, going through red lights and going on the wrong side of the road. The traffic laws are clearly stated but never enforced, and with a city of six million people, who's going to stop them?
There are more bikes on the road than there are cars and it's truly amazing how the Vietnamese can find so many uses for a bike. It's not strange to see multiple people on a bike and there is no need for a family car in this city. A family of four can be seated comfortably(?) on a bike, with a baby in mom's lap, dad driving with the older child between his legs, and only two helmets for all. Motorbikes also have the same use as delivery trucks, delivering anything from live animals (pigs and chickens in bags) to refrigerators to construction materials. The bikes rule the road and you either have to accept the bike culture or live in fear of being run down.
Crossing the street in Hanoi is initially a pain but becomes a form of art after a while. Reminiscent of the old style arcade game 'Frogger' where you try to cross the road and can only move forwards, backwards or side-to-side. I found myself stranded in the middle of the street when I first got to Vietnam and learned the tricks of the trade rather early. I'll gladly share with you the secret to Hanoi traffic so that you don't end up alone and crying in the middle of the street as you tried to check out the souvenir shop on the other side. The trick is to just keep moving. Pretend like you don't see the traffic around you and walk forward at a normal pace. As intimidating as the bikes are, they will go around you and try to avoid hitting you the best they can.
I'm an experienced Hanoian (well, I've only been here for two months but that's all it takes really!) but I can't say that I partake in the terror that is involved in riding bikes. I do, however, ride on the back of them whenever I can. I love tearing through Hanoi while sitting on the back of a friend's bike or on the back of a Xeom (say-um), one of the many hired bikes found on any street corner. Life in Hanoi seems so great from the back of a bike. I feel like a distant observer of the madness, while at the same time, being right in the thick of things. It's such an amazing daily experience, there's no place I'd rather be.
First impression of Hanoian streets: fucking INSANE!!
The streets of Hanoi are constantly filled with motorbikes zooming up and down, round and round. People going fast, going slow, going through red lights and going on the wrong side of the road. The traffic laws are clearly stated but never enforced, and with a city of six million people, who's going to stop them?
There are more bikes on the road than there are cars and it's truly amazing how the Vietnamese can find so many uses for a bike. It's not strange to see multiple people on a bike and there is no need for a family car in this city. A family of four can be seated comfortably(?) on a bike, with a baby in mom's lap, dad driving with the older child between his legs, and only two helmets for all. Motorbikes also have the same use as delivery trucks, delivering anything from live animals (pigs and chickens in bags) to refrigerators to construction materials. The bikes rule the road and you either have to accept the bike culture or live in fear of being run down.
Crossing the street in Hanoi is initially a pain but becomes a form of art after a while. Reminiscent of the old style arcade game 'Frogger' where you try to cross the road and can only move forwards, backwards or side-to-side. I found myself stranded in the middle of the street when I first got to Vietnam and learned the tricks of the trade rather early. I'll gladly share with you the secret to Hanoi traffic so that you don't end up alone and crying in the middle of the street as you tried to check out the souvenir shop on the other side. The trick is to just keep moving. Pretend like you don't see the traffic around you and walk forward at a normal pace. As intimidating as the bikes are, they will go around you and try to avoid hitting you the best they can.
I'm an experienced Hanoian (well, I've only been here for two months but that's all it takes really!) but I can't say that I partake in the terror that is involved in riding bikes. I do, however, ride on the back of them whenever I can. I love tearing through Hanoi while sitting on the back of a friend's bike or on the back of a Xeom (say-um), one of the many hired bikes found on any street corner. Life in Hanoi seems so great from the back of a bike. I feel like a distant observer of the madness, while at the same time, being right in the thick of things. It's such an amazing daily experience, there's no place I'd rather be.
Teaching (if that's what you want to call it)
My first day of class was within my first twenty-four hours in the country. I arrived in Hanoi three days late because of bad weather in NS and lost a few days in transit. I was unable to properly prepare for my class, let alone adjust to my new surroundings! But like so many things in life, I was thrown into this situation unexpectedly and had to make the best of it.
I got the job before leaving Canada and was hoping that I was getting everything that I was promised. It took a lot of blind faith to come to Vietnam on the promise that a job was available in a school I knew nothing about, in a city I've never been. As luck would have it, everything worked out and I was fortunate to get exactly what I was promised.
My new job was teaching English in a banking academy in Hanoi, aptly named "Academy of Banking, Hanoi." I came to teach supper intermediate English to university students in an intensive four-year English program. This program teaches business students everything they need to know to begin a career in banking but entirely in English with mostly native English teachers. They will also have the opportunity to travel to England during the fourth year of the course to study business in the University of Sunderland, earning a degree from the world renowned university. The students that I am currently teaching are in the first year of this program and are only studying English. And that works for me because I'm an English teacher, DEFINITELY NOT a business teacher!
The first year of the program is focussed only on improving their English fluency so they should be able to understand the lectures in the following years. The classes are five days a week, two hours a day and lots of homework. The goal for the first year is that students are supposed to become fluent in English by the end of the year. Notice how I said, "should be" and "supposed to." Many of the students are not at the appropriate English level and should not have been allowed to enroll in the program, but money talks. Are you kidding? In a communist country? Money is everything! There are other students who are in the class solely because their parents want them to be there. Mom and Dad don't mind sponsoring their son or daughter so long as they get the diploma, albeit if they take an extra year or two. Students that don't care and parents that care even less: such is the dilemma for any teacher I suppose.
I started working on the 5th of January at the beginning of the second term. I get a few more months to mold these students into well oiled English speaking machines. I'll be seeing most of them on a daily basis and hope to develop a personal relationship with them to better understand the Vietnamese way of thinking and to see the values of this new society. I'll also take valuable class time to ask questions about Vietnam and get them to help me with my Vietnamese pronunciation. I know that they are looking at me to do the same: to copy my Western way of thinking and acting. I just hope they don't pick up my East Hants accent.
I got the job before leaving Canada and was hoping that I was getting everything that I was promised. It took a lot of blind faith to come to Vietnam on the promise that a job was available in a school I knew nothing about, in a city I've never been. As luck would have it, everything worked out and I was fortunate to get exactly what I was promised.
My new job was teaching English in a banking academy in Hanoi, aptly named "Academy of Banking, Hanoi." I came to teach supper intermediate English to university students in an intensive four-year English program. This program teaches business students everything they need to know to begin a career in banking but entirely in English with mostly native English teachers. They will also have the opportunity to travel to England during the fourth year of the course to study business in the University of Sunderland, earning a degree from the world renowned university. The students that I am currently teaching are in the first year of this program and are only studying English. And that works for me because I'm an English teacher, DEFINITELY NOT a business teacher!
The first year of the program is focussed only on improving their English fluency so they should be able to understand the lectures in the following years. The classes are five days a week, two hours a day and lots of homework. The goal for the first year is that students are supposed to become fluent in English by the end of the year. Notice how I said, "should be" and "supposed to." Many of the students are not at the appropriate English level and should not have been allowed to enroll in the program, but money talks. Are you kidding? In a communist country? Money is everything! There are other students who are in the class solely because their parents want them to be there. Mom and Dad don't mind sponsoring their son or daughter so long as they get the diploma, albeit if they take an extra year or two. Students that don't care and parents that care even less: such is the dilemma for any teacher I suppose.
I started working on the 5th of January at the beginning of the second term. I get a few more months to mold these students into well oiled English speaking machines. I'll be seeing most of them on a daily basis and hope to develop a personal relationship with them to better understand the Vietnamese way of thinking and to see the values of this new society. I'll also take valuable class time to ask questions about Vietnam and get them to help me with my Vietnamese pronunciation. I know that they are looking at me to do the same: to copy my Western way of thinking and acting. I just hope they don't pick up my East Hants accent.
"Good Morning Vietnam!"
"Well, I made it!" said the over tired, forty something Canadian next to me. I then realized that it was my own reflection in the window and I wondered how I aged twenty years from that thirty-six hour trip. As I achingly got up from my seat and shuffled down the aisle I realized that if I keep making that flight, it would eventually kill me.
Talking about going to Vietnam and arriving in Hanoi's international airport are two totally different things. I walked off the plane and into the terminal and still couldn't believe that I made it. I had to remind myself over and over that this will be my home for a year and that it's not any city in Canada. Seeing how the temperature was twenty-four degrees and rising (in early January) I easily reconciled that this was not any city in Canada.
After collecting my bags and leaving the airport, I walked through the doors and entered Vietnam. I was immediately hit with the sights, sounds and smells of Hanoi: the busy streets packed with motor bikes and small cars, the incessant sound honking horns and the pollution that was entering my lungs. I took it all in for a few minutes. The overwhelming scene of people I don't know, speaking a language I can't understand, doing things in a culture I couldn't begin to imagine:
"Ahh, yeah!" I said with a grin, "this, is Asia!"
I quickly got an airport taxi to take me to the hotel my school had put me in for my first few days. My first impressions of my new home were seen from the back of that taxi. Regardless of my tiredness, I was eagerly gawking out the window and imagining the experiences that I was soon to have.
I got a real eyeful of Hanoi on my trip to my hotel. I saw things that were weird, scary, confusing, amazing, fantastic and wonderful. A view of REAL Asia, away from the overpriced, ridiculous tourist traps and all of the five star hotels and resorts. I got to take a glimpse down the back alleys and into the lives of those who are living their everyday lives and meet them eye to eye on their own level, their own turf. This has always been the thrill of traveling around Asia; to go beyond boundaries of the tourist areas and to go past where the guide books end.
I was full of excitement and wonder and ready to embrace all that Vietnam has to offer. I was ready to dive into the culture, the food and the women! Hanoi was my party and I just arrived fashionably late, the timing and the situation couldn't have been better. I dropped my bags off at the hotel and got my second wind. I was ready to hit up the town but, as it turned out, I was hit with the reality that I had work in the morning.
Talking about going to Vietnam and arriving in Hanoi's international airport are two totally different things. I walked off the plane and into the terminal and still couldn't believe that I made it. I had to remind myself over and over that this will be my home for a year and that it's not any city in Canada. Seeing how the temperature was twenty-four degrees and rising (in early January) I easily reconciled that this was not any city in Canada.
After collecting my bags and leaving the airport, I walked through the doors and entered Vietnam. I was immediately hit with the sights, sounds and smells of Hanoi: the busy streets packed with motor bikes and small cars, the incessant sound honking horns and the pollution that was entering my lungs. I took it all in for a few minutes. The overwhelming scene of people I don't know, speaking a language I can't understand, doing things in a culture I couldn't begin to imagine:
"Ahh, yeah!" I said with a grin, "this, is Asia!"
I quickly got an airport taxi to take me to the hotel my school had put me in for my first few days. My first impressions of my new home were seen from the back of that taxi. Regardless of my tiredness, I was eagerly gawking out the window and imagining the experiences that I was soon to have.
I got a real eyeful of Hanoi on my trip to my hotel. I saw things that were weird, scary, confusing, amazing, fantastic and wonderful. A view of REAL Asia, away from the overpriced, ridiculous tourist traps and all of the five star hotels and resorts. I got to take a glimpse down the back alleys and into the lives of those who are living their everyday lives and meet them eye to eye on their own level, their own turf. This has always been the thrill of traveling around Asia; to go beyond boundaries of the tourist areas and to go past where the guide books end.
I was full of excitement and wonder and ready to embrace all that Vietnam has to offer. I was ready to dive into the culture, the food and the women! Hanoi was my party and I just arrived fashionably late, the timing and the situation couldn't have been better. I dropped my bags off at the hotel and got my second wind. I was ready to hit up the town but, as it turned out, I was hit with the reality that I had work in the morning.
Halifax to Hanoi
If I could sum up my flights to Vietnam in one word... is "terribledisastrousity" a word? No? Can I hyphenate "Hell on Earth"? Well, you get the idea.
I remember when I used to curse the four hour flight from Halifax to Toronto. It doesn't seem so bad compared to my thirty-six hour journey that brought me to this country. Three separate flights in four different countries (Halifax-New York-Seoul-Hanoi) makes for one tired boy.
My first flight was harmless enough, it took an hour and a half with no problems taking off or landing. Although the customs guard in NY gave me a hard time.
"WhyareyoutravelingtoNewYork? HowlongwillyoubeintheUS?" she barked, without even looking up from my passport.
I told her that I was traveling to Vietnam to teach English and after a short discussion about her friend who is doing the same in South Korea, she stamped my passport and gave me a smile, "Have a great flight!" she said cheerfully. I walked away thinking that life would be much easier if everyone took a few minutes to relax, and then I remembered that I had eight hours until my next flight and was stuck in JFK airport. Plenty of time to relax!
I tried to keep busy for the next eight hours but spent most of my time thinking. I thought about all of the conversations that I had with people about teaching ESL. They always want to know why I decided to leave Nova Scotia and go halfway across the world to teach English. They always tell me that the idea is so strange to them that they could never see themselves doing it. And that's exactly what I thought before moving to Asia the first time.
I recall often telling my friends "I have no interest in moving to Asia. I'm happy here, so why would I leave?" I have been a devoted Nova Scotian all of my life and a proud son of Halifax for five years, yet I hadn't seen the world apart from Canada and the US. The thirst to see the world and explore couldn't be quenched from the waters of the Atlantic. I needed to see the Pacific from the other side, to hike on top of the Great Wall, to see the ancient palaces of faraway Asian countries and to learn how to properly eat with chopsticks. The only problem was that these things take a lot of time and money. Being an ESL teacher has given me both the time and money necessary to explore Asia. Traveling Asia has been the best experience of my life. However, traveling to Asia has been the opposite.
My flight from New York to Seoul was not new for me and definitely not soulful. It was a sixteen hour flight with a sleep deprived mind and it was only the halfway point of my trip! If anything would question my decision to go to Vietnam it'd be this flight. Still, the old mantra keeps circling in my head: "no pain, no gain!" If I keep doing it, there must be some reason for doing it, I'm not masochistic.
Arriving back in Seoul's Incheon airport was eerily familiar but distant at the same time. This wasn't my home anymore, just a stopover on my way to my next adventure. It's difficult to make your home and then leave it to make a new home somewhere else. That's exactly what I was doing on my last flight from Seoul to Hanoi. I carried the same two large suitcases back home to Canada and now I'm doing the same to go "home" to Vietnam. I wonder, will the quotations ever go away? Will Vietnam feel like home to me? Can I ever go home again? Before I could answer these questions, my plane touched down in Hanoi.
I remember when I used to curse the four hour flight from Halifax to Toronto. It doesn't seem so bad compared to my thirty-six hour journey that brought me to this country. Three separate flights in four different countries (Halifax-New York-Seoul-Hanoi) makes for one tired boy.
My first flight was harmless enough, it took an hour and a half with no problems taking off or landing. Although the customs guard in NY gave me a hard time.
"WhyareyoutravelingtoNewYork? HowlongwillyoubeintheUS?" she barked, without even looking up from my passport.
I told her that I was traveling to Vietnam to teach English and after a short discussion about her friend who is doing the same in South Korea, she stamped my passport and gave me a smile, "Have a great flight!" she said cheerfully. I walked away thinking that life would be much easier if everyone took a few minutes to relax, and then I remembered that I had eight hours until my next flight and was stuck in JFK airport. Plenty of time to relax!
I tried to keep busy for the next eight hours but spent most of my time thinking. I thought about all of the conversations that I had with people about teaching ESL. They always want to know why I decided to leave Nova Scotia and go halfway across the world to teach English. They always tell me that the idea is so strange to them that they could never see themselves doing it. And that's exactly what I thought before moving to Asia the first time.
I recall often telling my friends "I have no interest in moving to Asia. I'm happy here, so why would I leave?" I have been a devoted Nova Scotian all of my life and a proud son of Halifax for five years, yet I hadn't seen the world apart from Canada and the US. The thirst to see the world and explore couldn't be quenched from the waters of the Atlantic. I needed to see the Pacific from the other side, to hike on top of the Great Wall, to see the ancient palaces of faraway Asian countries and to learn how to properly eat with chopsticks. The only problem was that these things take a lot of time and money. Being an ESL teacher has given me both the time and money necessary to explore Asia. Traveling Asia has been the best experience of my life. However, traveling to Asia has been the opposite.
My flight from New York to Seoul was not new for me and definitely not soulful. It was a sixteen hour flight with a sleep deprived mind and it was only the halfway point of my trip! If anything would question my decision to go to Vietnam it'd be this flight. Still, the old mantra keeps circling in my head: "no pain, no gain!" If I keep doing it, there must be some reason for doing it, I'm not masochistic.
Arriving back in Seoul's Incheon airport was eerily familiar but distant at the same time. This wasn't my home anymore, just a stopover on my way to my next adventure. It's difficult to make your home and then leave it to make a new home somewhere else. That's exactly what I was doing on my last flight from Seoul to Hanoi. I carried the same two large suitcases back home to Canada and now I'm doing the same to go "home" to Vietnam. I wonder, will the quotations ever go away? Will Vietnam feel like home to me? Can I ever go home again? Before I could answer these questions, my plane touched down in Hanoi.
My First Tour of Duty
I met my parents for lunch in Dartmouth to tell them the news. I knew that they would be surprised and excited but I also knew that they wouldn't be too happy when they heard what had happened last night.
"I've been drafted," I joked. "I'm moving to Vietnam!"
The previous evening, I had a job interview via the internet for teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) in Hanoi. After a 45 minute conversation the woman on the other end of the conversation, and on the other side of the world, cheerfully told me that I had the job. "Great!" I replied. She then told me that she wanted me there two days after New Years. "Oh" was all that I could say.
I arrived back in Nova Scotia in the beginning of December and two weeks later I had already found another job sending me back to Asia in another two weeks.
"That's great news. Congratulations!" my parents both said. My mom burst my bubble when she added, "You just came back and you're leaving again?"
I had first moved to Asia in August 2006 to teach ESL in a private language school in South Korea. I had lived in a suburb of Seoul for two years, teaching ESL to Korean children between the ages of 6 and 14. Two years in Korea gave me a lot of time to fully explore the country, the culture and the "Korean way" of doing things; which sometimes meant doing things either half-serious, half-joking, half-awake, half-heartedly or half-drunk. Or any combination of two halves that always made for an interesting experience!
During my time in Korea, I had the chance to visit several Asian countries during school vacations and breaks: Thailand (x3), Vietnam, North Korea(aaaahh!) and three months living and traveling in China, Hong Kong and Macau. I had learned a lot from my observations in Asia and came back to Canada to share all of my encounters and adventures. Of course, with more countries means more adventures and strange encounters, the same goes with new countries.
My next adventure is one I'll be documenting and sharing. My year-long stint in Vietnam will be new to me and will be vastly different from life in Canada or Korea but I've always found regular routine to be quite boring and unsettling. So, I'll start my account in a place where all good stories either begin or end: in the airport. More specifically: Stanfield International Airport in Halifax.
My final day in Canada had come and my family were all there to see me off, all hoping that we'd be together again next year. As we were walking towards US customs and security, my dad turned to me and said,
"We're proud of you, Matthew."
"For what?" I replied.
I was getting on a plane, heading to another city, in another country, halfway around the world. I was leaving my home, my family and friends for at least a year to teach English in a foreign country. I've done this two times already! Is it such a remarkable feat for a boy from Exit 10?
I pondered this question as I left Canadian soil but it struck me as unusual. It feels like the most normal thing for me now. This is my life. I'm following my career and my passion, what's so unique about that?
"I've been drafted," I joked. "I'm moving to Vietnam!"
The previous evening, I had a job interview via the internet for teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) in Hanoi. After a 45 minute conversation the woman on the other end of the conversation, and on the other side of the world, cheerfully told me that I had the job. "Great!" I replied. She then told me that she wanted me there two days after New Years. "Oh" was all that I could say.
I arrived back in Nova Scotia in the beginning of December and two weeks later I had already found another job sending me back to Asia in another two weeks.
"That's great news. Congratulations!" my parents both said. My mom burst my bubble when she added, "You just came back and you're leaving again?"
I had first moved to Asia in August 2006 to teach ESL in a private language school in South Korea. I had lived in a suburb of Seoul for two years, teaching ESL to Korean children between the ages of 6 and 14. Two years in Korea gave me a lot of time to fully explore the country, the culture and the "Korean way" of doing things; which sometimes meant doing things either half-serious, half-joking, half-awake, half-heartedly or half-drunk. Or any combination of two halves that always made for an interesting experience!
During my time in Korea, I had the chance to visit several Asian countries during school vacations and breaks: Thailand (x3), Vietnam, North Korea(aaaahh!) and three months living and traveling in China, Hong Kong and Macau. I had learned a lot from my observations in Asia and came back to Canada to share all of my encounters and adventures. Of course, with more countries means more adventures and strange encounters, the same goes with new countries.
My next adventure is one I'll be documenting and sharing. My year-long stint in Vietnam will be new to me and will be vastly different from life in Canada or Korea but I've always found regular routine to be quite boring and unsettling. So, I'll start my account in a place where all good stories either begin or end: in the airport. More specifically: Stanfield International Airport in Halifax.
My final day in Canada had come and my family were all there to see me off, all hoping that we'd be together again next year. As we were walking towards US customs and security, my dad turned to me and said,
"We're proud of you, Matthew."
"For what?" I replied.
I was getting on a plane, heading to another city, in another country, halfway around the world. I was leaving my home, my family and friends for at least a year to teach English in a foreign country. I've done this two times already! Is it such a remarkable feat for a boy from Exit 10?
I pondered this question as I left Canadian soil but it struck me as unusual. It feels like the most normal thing for me now. This is my life. I'm following my career and my passion, what's so unique about that?
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