Week 21: The Arrival of the Berkeley Dessert Club

Had a great week! My Berkeley friends, NM and SA, came up to Hanoi for a visit. Affectionately known as "the Berkeley Dessert Club," we had a monthly (sometimes twice-monthly, depending on if there was a crisis) dessert night at various Berkeley eateries. As grad students, we couldn't afford to eat at a lot of Berkeley's nicer restaurants, so we opted instead for dessert and coffee. This decadent ritual allowed us to take a break from our crazy schedules and have much-needed female camaraderie--which most of the time consisted of two of us picking on the other. The one requirement: the restaurant had to carry something chocolate for NM, addict and chocolate cake connoisseur-extraordinaire.

The dynamic between the three of us followed the Goldilocks schema of "Too much, too little, just right." For example: oldest (SA), youngest (Martina), just right (NM). Another example: No nonsense (SA), too girly (Martina), just right (NM). And yet another example: Shortest (SA), Tallest (Martina), Just Right (NM). I think you get the idea. We took a memorable road trip down to LA the semester before we all left (during which I captured NM singing to Bon Jovi while driving! NM, if you're reading this, I'm going to sell the video to the tabloids when you become rich and famous!)

Now that we're all dispersed at different corners of the world (NM in Cambodia, SA in Chicago, and me in Vietnam), I really miss those times of female camraderie. Especially now that I'm in Vietnam, when friendships are as flimsy and transient as rice paper, and romantic relationships--well, let's just say slim pickings. I was more than ecstatic to see them, and within 5 minutes, SA and I started teasing NM. Nothing had changed. Thank god.

My friends didn't travel alone--NM brought her new boyfriend Rattana and friends Sarah and Dave. We all took a trip out of Hanoi to Ha Long Bay. We all rode around the bay on a huge boat, went kayaking, then spent the night on the boat. My god, was it cold! The wind blew off the bay, knocking down the temperature by at least another 10 degrees. Despite the cold, the scenery was spectacular. Although I've been to Ha Long Bay 4 times before, I still get a rush seeing the limestone rocks jutting straight out of the ocean. The gray, cloudy, foggy weather only made the scenery more chimerical--like places where fairies frolic.

On the other hand, I think I just maxed out on my trips to Ha Long bay for the rest of my life. While the landscape of Ha Long Bay absolutely takes my breath away, I absolutely abhor the tourist industry that exploits it. From Hanoi, we took a crowded bus (like a can of sardines) for 4 hours to Ha Long City, with a tour guide telling the same damned spiel and the same damned jokes. On the way, we stopped by a restaurant for breakfast; I'm sure that the place paid the tour company kickbacks for choosing their establishment. The restaurant/shop was designed to systematically strip tourists of their money--overpriced trinkets, souvenirs, bottled water, snacks. When we arrived, we got lost in the sea of western tourists, buses, and vendors--I felt like a head of cattle being rounded up. The docks themselves were full of boats in varying conditions: luxurious boats for people who paid more, not-so-nice junks for backpackers, and all gradations in between. The thing that bothers me the most about the tourism industry is that it gives you the impression of novelty and discovery, but its all prepackaged and contrived. I call it "adventure in a can." I realize the same situation exists wherever one travels in the world, but the blatant marketing that I saw in Ha Long bay reminded me of a machine--ship 'em in, process 'em, get 'em the hell out, and bring new ones in. Gross.

Another gripe about the tourist industry--Vietnamese people become part of the scenery. For the tourists, Vietnamese only exist in the capacity of tour guide, vendor, waiter/waitress, taxi driver, and in the worst cases, sex worker. I've seen tourists disrespectfully snap pictures of people as if they were inanimate objects. Not to mention that some tourists display a heightened sense of paranoia that vendors will rip them off, which results in tourists violently haggling with vendors over a few cents. Makes me wonder if tourism is--in every way--a form of myth construction that demands the voicelessness and facelessness of locals.

Anyways, enough venting. Will write more later.