Week 22: Debunking the Expat Myth of a Tiny Hanoi

Got back to work this week. Actually started looking at documents in the archives--very exciting. I got goosebumps from looking at the yellowed pieces of paper and the squiggly, faded handwriting of Indochinese and French administrateurs long past. I wonder if Messrs. Justin Godart, Alexandre Varenne, and Paul Doumer ever knew that someone in the year 2006 would be looking at the reports they signed? Anyways, the most annoying part about all this is that Tet (lunar new year) is in a week. During Tet, everything shuts down for about a week in Hanoi. For people who didn't prepare ahead of time, they'll literally starve--Hanoi might as well be a ghost town. I mean, I just had a vacation over Christmas, now I'm ready to work! I don't want another vacation just yet. Argh.

Anyhow, I've always maintained that Tet is only fun for kids. After all, all kids have to do is wish their elders health, prosperity, and luck for the new year. And on top of that, they get lucky money for it! For grownups, not only is Tet expensive, but also time-consuming and tedious. To prepare for the new upcoming year, Vietnamese clean their houses from top to bottom, a ritual akin to that of "spring cleaning." Superstitions abound as well--my cousin swore off eating oranges and sweeping the house after Tet, as she believes that oranges make you suffer and one sweeps out money with the trash. Also, the first person who enters one's house the first day of the year will set the tone for the entire year. (Supposedly, according to my aunt, she had great business the year I entered her house. Me, a talisman for good luck and prosperity for everyone but myself!) At any rate, I am in that liminal space between childhood and adulthood. I am too old to be a kid, but I am still unmarried, which means I am not yet an adult with "responsibilities." Sigh. The vicissitudes of being a single 27-year-old woman during Tet.

The myth exists among expats that the Hanoi social scene is really small and incestuous. SO NOT TRUE. What these misguided expats don't know is that the myth itself is a product of expats who are either too lazy and/or too scared to actually live in Hanoi and get to know Hanoi people. I mean, the only reason why expats say that is because they only hang out with expats. And even then, they hang out with only a small portion of the expat community, as not all expats feel the need to frequent the damned Barracuda Bar every weekend (thank god). Expats of all occupations and ages live in Hanoi--NGO people, Embassy workers, academics, business types, English teachers, blah, blah, blah. In truth, Hanoi is immense--so many different circles to run in, even among the expat community. However, if one dares to engage with the local community, Hanoi becomes as varied and as large as any major metropolitan area.

Also, the Hanoi social scene seems small only because expats and Vietnamese party kids go out really late at night. In reality, the Vietnamese concept of "going out" differs greatly from Western notions. {A caveat: this is my own observations taken from hanging out with both Vietnamese and expats. Others might have different opinions.} Vietnamese prefer the extended "nhau" session. They gather a group of their friends, go out to a restaurant, order a lot of food, and drink for a few hours. Food arrives at the table in a steady stream, as does conversations, beer and/or whiskey (Johnny Walker seems to be the choice nowadays). The "nhau" session ends around 10-10:30, and party breaks up. Social events end pretty early for Vietnamese--singles still live at home with their parents, married folks have "grownup" responsibilities, and some live in communities that lock their gates at 11 PM. The idea of "mingling," like at a bar or cocktail party, is not really done among Vietnamese. People don't really talk to others outside their own group. I think that these distinctions also contribute to the expat myth of a small Hanoi--most locals don't go out all that late because they party differently.

Had a technological kerfuffle this week. I was doing work over at Kat's house, happily ensconced on her comfy rattan couch with silk squabs, wrapped in a puffy blanket, One Dollar purring on my lap. (On a side note, One Dollar is no longer a kitten, looking more and more like a handsome cat by the day. He's also a bit slutty as well--he hangs out at home during the day, then disappears with the local she-cats at night.) Kat sat on the sofa with me as well, our matching laptops back to back. One Dollar reared up on his hind legs (I saw all this in slow motion, like in the movies), and before I could stop him, jumped over both our screens. He knocked my screen into Kat's, and all of a sudden--my screen washed over in turquoise. [gasp] I almost spontaneously burst into tears. After rebooting at least 6 times, the screen went back to normal. I'm hoping that this wretched computer will somehow correct itself, as the idea of going without a computer for month is particularly odious to me.

All this made me realize how reliant I am on technology. I mean, my life is on my computer--my dissertation, my address book, my emails, everything. I honestly don't know how I'd get by without it. Which makes me wonder if the conveniences of modern life has made man less adaptable. I mean, the thought of going without my computer already has me wringing my hands in terror, could I possibly make it a week in a place with no electricity, running water, and cocktails?

Gotta help Kat pack for her trip back home. More next week.