Week 2: The House Hunt

Omigod, what a crazy week! I've been so busy this week--running around with Kat, helping her get settled, and looking for my own place. I posted a picture of Kat at work on one of her paintings. Anyways, I finally have a moment to check my email and get this blog up and running.

Been hanging out with my friend MB from Berkeley--good times. We ended up at a bar at the Sheraton called Nutz (as in Deez). It was the only bar in Hanoi that stayed open past midnight after the local police cracked down on bars and clubs in an effort to curb "social ills." Had a terrible run-in with an unpleasant Frenchman there. MB and I were at the bar, minding our own business, when this French guy started elbowing us at the bar, expecting us to obediently make room for at the bar. I told him (in English) that he could have asked us nicely to move, but he rudely answered us in French. When I addressed him in his own language, he gave a startled look (as if he didn't expect a Vietnamese person to speak French), and continued to elbow me. MB and I ignored him....until we felt the splash of cold liquid at our feet. The guy cowardly and furtively spilled beer on our shoes! He didn't even have the courage to do it openly! He turned away, pretending that he didn't do what he just did. Out of reflex, I picked up my vodka tonic (of which I only took 2 sips) and flung it in his leathery face. What a waste.

Reflecting on this episode later, I don't think he would have treated us in that haughty, high-handed way if MB and I weren't Asian women. Its strange to realize that the colonial dynamic has been replaced by a similar developed-underdeveloped dynamic. Granted, I am not trying to make generalizations, but this episode made me wonder how much different is Nhat Linh's time from my own (FYI--Nhat Linh is the colonial-era intellectual I'm researching for my dissertation.) I know, I know, the nasty Frenchman could have been drunk, and I can't necessarily make a blanket statement on the basis of one jerk.

Lost money on the Arsenal-Chelsea game. It was supposed to be the safest bet--after all, Chelsea hasn't won a Premier League game against Arsenal in 10 years. I'm having a bad feeling about my boys; they seem to be losing their confidence so early in the season. (Not to mention Vieira's absence leaves a sparse midfield.) Speaking of gambling, I've put the feelers out for a twice-monthly poker night in Hanoi and received some interest. Hopefully, I can make up my losses there...

Started the house hunt. What an ordeal! I've been systematically attempting to find housing in three different ways, which I have scientifically dubbed "the Lazy Method," "the Not-So-Lazy Method," and "the Proactive Method." "The Lazy Method" involves the use of a broker, who takes you around and shows you all the houses he has--but you have to pay higher rent, because the landlord pays the broker a commission. "The Not-So Lazy Method" requires one to buy the daily classified paper (and make friends with the newspaper lady on one's street corner), scan it for potentially good ads, and call the phone numbers. But the houses in the classifieds represent only a small fraction of the places for rent in the entire city of Hanoi. "The Proactive Method" involves a lot more time-consuming work, but could yield some amazing deals (this is how Kat found her great house on the West Lake.). After finding a neighborhood to one's liking, one has to scope out the local coffee or noodle stalls manned by the local ladies. After having a bowl of noodles or a cup of coffee, make small talk with the vendor (vendoress?) and casually drop that you're looking for a place. Usually, they would know of a few places for rent in the area--most of the time, they're almost condemned housing. But sometimes, you can find some gems.

Anyways, I don't know how much longer I can deal with being homeless. Sure, I can crash at Kat's place for as long as I need, but I'm really aching for some sense of routine. I am annoyed that I have to deal with this real life stuff--banking fees, moving, laundry, cold showers (Kat hasn't installed a water heater in her place yet). I really need my own space. AND I WANT TO WORK. It sounds crazy, but remember that frenzied, whacked-out, neurotic work pace I had studying for orals? I want that back.

Being in Vietnam has made me self-conscious about how impatient Americans are in general, and me in particular. I mean, I expect things to be done in a timely and efficient manner. I gave myself a strict timetable--I was supposed to start on my dissertation on August 24!! It just shows that Vietnam caters to no one's schedule, especially mine. I have a feeling this is going to be a major theme for the upcoming year....

And the search goes on...

Week 1: Living Out of Suitcases

Week 1: Living Out of Suitcases

At 10 PM, I finally landed in Saigon's Tan Son Nhat Airport, where my cousins picked me up.

I took my first motorbike ride alone (in over a year) through the streets of Saigon. I keep forgetting the cardinal traffic rule in Vietnam: Go with the flow and make no sudden movements. Nearly collided head first with a guy who ran the red light and insisted on plowing through the already dense traffic. Must be more careful driving around Vietnam without a helmet.

Still jetlagged, I had dinner with my cousins on Dad's side. My cousin Nhien is the Chief Executive Officer in charge of Corporate Accounts at huge foreign bank in Saigon, and his fiancee Lan worked in marketing for Unilever. My cousin Hieu from the States was also in town with his girlfriend. I was the only single person hanging out with 2 couples. Somehow, I have a vague feeling that I should start getting accustomed to that...

After three days in Saigon, I flew to Hanoi with NA, a fellow Berkeley grad student. The limit on Vietnam Airlines was 20 kilos (a ridiculously low limit), but thanks to my friend's cousin I was able to carry my 300 pounds of stuff (it really helps to know peeps!). Kat picked us up at the airport. She looked great-- I didn't realize it had been more than a year since I last saw her.

I met my sister's significant other on Saturday. NA asked him what he did in Vietnam. He replied, "I work at an NGO... And I love Kat." Some girls have all the luck.

NA and I met up with MB, another Berkeley grad student. She was in Vietnam on a language program, and decided to stay a bit longer after it ended. Went out for a girls' night out in Hanoi, which ended with the three of us crammed onto my motorbike. I still didn't know my way around Hanoi yet, so we got completely lost at 1 in the morning. (This is why I love MB and NA--they totally trusted that I could get them back safely. Thanks, girls!) I've posted a picture here of MB and I driving on my motorbike (MB's arm wasn't long enough to get NA in the pic too.)

We went to a Vietnamese death metal concert. No joke. The grad student in me wants to look at this sociologically, and read into it all sorts of repressed desire for alterity. However, it was just good cheesy fun.

I felt a little forlorn yesterday. NA just left for Saigon, and I moved out of my comfortable hotel and into my sister's small studio. She was moving into her new house, so stuff was strewn everywhere, I felt a really unsettled. I was really sick of having to open my tighly-packed suitcases for every little thing, and wanted to be settled. NOW. I guess that's what happens when one has an established routine--its hard to break it, even only for a few days. The fact that I am really missing my proper skincare routine, smelly candles, hot showers, and internet ties into a larger anxiety over this upcoming year. When the near future seems uncertain, I take comfort in controlling the smaller aspects of my life. Now, it seems I barely even have that...

Helped Kat move into a great house on the West Lake. Unfortunately, it looks like Kat and I won't be living together--the house isn't big enough, and she's using the top floor as her lacquer studio. With all the people coming in and out of the house, I won't get the peace and quiet I need to read 15 years of colonial newspapers. I also found that I was allergic to the materials Kat uses in her lacquer painting. Now I have to look for a place, something I didn't anticipate. Will start looking for a place on Monday.

Well, I'm off...

Well, I'm off...

After almost two months in Houston, wasting away in the heat and boredom (efforts to alleviate the latter consisted of massive consumption of footwear and reversion to Dungeons and Dragons) I have finally departed for Vietnam.

My mom was pretty upset, having now lost both her girls across the Pacific. She takes some comfort in the fact that my sister and I will live together in Hanoi. I haven't lived in the same continent (much less in the same house) with my sister in over eight years, so who knows if we'll even get along! Will keep you posted.

I (thankfully) don't have the predeparture jitters--I'm trying to keep my expectations low so as to be pleasantly surprised in the near future. I spoke to a slew of my friends before departure (thanks Amy, Jen, Rebekah, Brooks, Larissa and Amanda), which made me miss and appreciate them a lot more.

Hellish airport experience--after meticulously packing each piece of baggage at home (which entailed me sitting on them just to close them shut), one of my suitcases weighed 20 pounds over the 70-lbs. limit. So my mom and I had to open all our luggage and redistribute the weight in the middle of the airport lobby. (Imagine me, frazzled and sleep-deprived, with my stuff strewn all over the place.) In the end, I had to decide which of my personal belongings I could live without in Vietnam (not an easy task, lemme tell you).

The plane that is currently taking me farther and farther away from home is also taking me farther and farther away from my mental and physical comfort zone. I still have a vague feeling of confusion as to what exactly I'm supposed to be doing in Vietnam. Something about a dissertation, I know, but what that entails, I haven't a clue. I'll learn soon enough, I'm sure, but I hope it involves some adventure...

I am currently flying over the Pacific Ocean, en route to Hong Kong and then to Saigon (for some strange reason, I refuse to call it Ho Chi Minh City). There is a screaming baby somewhere in the cabin, someone uncourteously slathered on too much Vicks Vaporub, and someone has motion sickness in the row in front of me. Thank god for ear plugs...

Luckily I have a three-seat row all to myself, so I can stretch out across them. The woman sitting bitch in the next aisle looks at me with envious eyes whenever my eyes would open out of its blissful sleepy state.

Song currently playing on iPod: Mad World (Gary Jules)

I'm a little nervous about checking the time, in the fear that only an hour has passed, and I still have 14 more till Hong Kong (Yay for duty free!!!). Its strange--I love to travel, but I actually hate the act of traveling itself: planes, airports, baggage, customs. If anyone successfully invents teleportation, I'm first in line.

Eight more hours!?!?