Christmas Explosion

On December 2, I woke up on Rob & Mary's couch after a late night of dancing and carousing.  I was not particularly motivated to get on a bus and trek into Saigon for my 2nd round of Hepatitis immunizations.  But after a pina colada and a mojito at JD's (actually Harry's first ever mojito; I showed him how to make it and now it's on the menu), I rallied and got myself into Saigon shortly after sunset.

I went to my usual hotel ($16/night) where I was greeted with a smile by the sweet girl who always remembers me and speaks excellent English. If I didn't already live in a hotel, staying here would be very exciting.  I had forgotten to contact anyone I knew in Saigon or line up anything special to do, but I figured I'd just treat myself to a nice meal and have an early night.  Well I ended up having a fantastic time just walking around District 1 because it had been completely bedazzled with Christmas lights.  I had no idea they were so into it here. Christmas Day is not a public holiday or anything, but there is a large Christian population, and I think they are just generally into anything that's cute and sparkly. (I can't wait to see Valentine's Day.)  Click here to see all my Christmas pics.

I had wisely thought to look up a restaurant on Lonely Planet before I left, and it turned out to be a gem - a cozy little place in District 3 called L'Etoile.  It served French food on the ever-popular compartmentalized metal trays.  The food was tasty, and with a glass of wine, the bill came to about $8.  I then wandered around taking pictures of the lights, enjoying the wonderful freedom of travelling alone.  It hasn't happened often here since I have a group of people to do things with, but it's a nice treat every now and then.  I stopped in a fun-looking Irish bar called O'Brien's, but it was mainly populated by obnoxious American businessmen talking loudly about global markets and sports cars. (How come I never notice these people in America??)  My next stop was a popular ice-cream place on the corner across from the festive Saigon Center.  As I was slurping my yummy Cafe Liegois, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned around to find an old Korean who asked why I was there by myself.  That question annoys me and it usually sounds creepy, but he was there with his Vietnamese wife and was actually quite friendly and spoke decent English.  He said he had been in Vietnam for many years; I asked if he liked it and he said, "Well, I like her" (his wife).

Christmas in Vietnam is just a little more stylish.

I continued on to Ben Thanh, the labyrinthine market (similar to a Turkish bazaar) that is way too hot and claustrophobic for me to enjoy by day, but they set up a night market outside which is pleasant to walk through.  I spied some rose-colored bloomer pants and thought I'd take a shot at bargaining for them.  I asked the lady how much, she said 200,000 dong.  Using my Morocco technique, I offered 100,000, and she said OK.  Huh?  That is not how "bargaining" works.  Yes, it worked out fine for me in this case (I paid $5), but I still have to chuckle at what crappy salespeople the Vietnamese are.  Sometimes they'll just refuse to lower their obviously inflated price and let you walk away, as if they couldn't care less about moving any products that day.

I ended my night at Hideaway, a new bar near the hotel where some of my co-workers had hosted a dance party a few weeks prior.   I knew there would be plenty of expats/teachers there on a Sunday night because many of them, like me, don't work Monday.  Much to my dismay, I discovered that there is a thriving hipster community in Saigon.  There were guys with mustaches and hair pommade everywhere.  There were girls with tattoos and short bangs.  There may have even been lensless glasses.  Ugh.  I talked with one girl from Mobile, Alabama for a few minutes, had one beer, and retreated back to my hotel where I stayed up later than I intended, sucked in by Asia's Next Top Model, a fascinating program.

The next day, I had a banana pancake and headed down to the French Hospital, where I had my Hep shots as well as a consultation with the head of Dermatology about some minor spots I've had for a while but could never afford to treat back home.  That consultation plus the medicine cost me $35.  Heck, at those prices, I'll go see the guy every week.  I may even be able to get something like preventative care here.  The only downside is that I have to trek into Saigon for it because the hospital in my city is rumored to be pretty disgusting.

The last event of note that weekend was lunch at an "upscale" place which was served with a complimentary live caterpillar.  He was hiding under some lettuce leaves.  I let him live and ate the rest of it, lol. 

I ended up back in Saigon the next weekend for Kristyn's birthday celebration. I met up with Don, the teacher who quit shortly after I started (and conveniently left me his hotel room).  He took me to Wayne's Texas BBQ, where I had a genuine pulled pork sandwich with all the fixins (no caterpillars.) I also had a delicious can of A&W from the fridge in this pic.   I thought my family in Houston would appreciate the decor.

Teaching my first dance lesson to some very attentive students.

Photos of other noteworthy events can be found here:
Girls' Night Chez Lucy
Salsa Night
Other Fun Activities

Rockin' the Holidays

The story of what I've been up to in the last month is best told in pictures. Click on the links to view my photo albums.

Halloween seems to be rather popular here.  There were plenty of costume shops and bars decked out with Halloween decor, and lots of zombies roaming Saigon that weekend (mostly Westerners, but some Vietnamese too).  We had a Halloween dance party at JD's, where I shared my culture by dressing as "Po' White Trash".  I thought I was pretty scary, but some of my non-American friends, who were mainly dressed as vampires and ghouls, were a little baffled - questions like "But what does that have to do with Halloween?"  I put on a redneck accent throughout the evening, so even if baffled, I think they were still entertained.

Vietnam pulled it off!

 Thanksgiving was also very enjoyable.  JD's offered a turkey dinner for a moderate price, and a number of my colleagues turned up to eat and/or drink.  Harry, the British restaurant owner and one of my favorite people here, did his best to serve American classics like turkey with cranberry sauce, pumpkin soup, and apple pie.  There was another FREE turkey dinner that Saturday at the other Western restaurant (owned by a Texan named Billy), and though there wasn't much left by the time I arrived, that turkey was much tastier.  I guess Americans know their turkey!

Another holiday that is quite a big deal here is Teacher's Day.  Students bring cake and flowers for their teachers, and our school even gives a bonus (for those who've worked there longer than 2 months, which I hadn't...bummer.)  Two of the classes I teach are actually primary and secondary school teachers themselves who were busy attending parties on Teacher's Day, so our classes were cancelled (a nice bonus in itself).  Even so, my class the following day brought me plenty of goodies.  I was also treated to flowers from my boss on Women's Day, which apparently they celebrate here in October.  I've heard a rumor that on International Women's Day in March, I'll get my second chance at a bonus!

 
Work got busy on Nov. 5 when we started up 8 new classes.  But my schedule eased up shortly after when we gained 2 awesome new teachers, Rob and Mary.  They're a young British couple who were teaching in Jordan before coming here, so we have a lot of stories to swap about our experience in the Arab world.  That makes 6 teachers total at our language center, and other newcomers are arriving regularly to work at the associated university.  We welcomed a few of them with a Night Out in Thu Dau Mot (our city).

Created from a real package of salami that I bought here.

Some other interesting packaging.

I'm currently only teaching 15 hours/week, though I still have to be in the office 40 hours/week, and I do a lot of additional lesson planning at home (I just don't find the office conducive to creativity.)  So I'm fairly busy, but not minding it and still finding plenty of time for fun.  There are always good times to be had hanging out with my teacher friends at JD's. I've had a couple weekends of revelry in Saigon (in October and November), and most recently, an absolutely fabulous beach weekend in Nha Trang which made me VERY happy with my decision to come to Vietnam and very excited to see what other beautiful spots this country has to offer. 



Though I haven't made any real Vietnamese friends, I'm learning a lot about the culture through my students.  The main thing that has struck me is how hard-working and dedicated to their families they are.  It is not uncommon for them to live with their parents their entire life. And the way they feel about this might surprise you - this excerpt from an essay by one of my Elementary students pretty much says it all:

"My family is like heaven.  There is peace, prosperity, love, and care.  The youngers have regard and respect for the elders.  If a member has some problem, the whole family is beside him. We love each other very much and expect to live together under the same roof forever."

Revelations

Since arriving, I've been trying to figure out why the teachers here seem so much more dedicated to teaching - spending countless hours planning lessons that will not just meet but exceed the requirements of the job - than any I have worked with before.  I wondered if it was a cultural difference between the UK and America, the Draconian nature of management at the university here, the fact that many of these teachers are newly certified, or some combination of these.  But I think the real answer hit me tonight: it involves the difference between public school and private language school.  In America, a public school teacher has to be a hero - someone who is willing to devote their lives to students even if there is little reward in it.  ESL teachers, on the other hand, are paid very well (at least at UCLA) to do a much easier job, and therefore the job ends up being a way to pay the bills for people who don't consider teaching to be their real career.  In the UK, it's the opposite: ESL teachers are paid very little compared to public school teachers, so they tend to be the types who are doing it for the adventure and the satisfaction they get from teaching.  So the crowd that I'm surrounded with here is akin to American public school teachers, who I admire a great deal (though don't envy at all.)  As inspiring as they are, this group of teachers is also a bit daunting, as I feel like I really have to step up my game.  But that's why I came here, to work hard and push myself to advance professionally.  I look forward to attending some of the teaching workshops offered at the university next week.  I am admittedly dreading the following week when my teaching load suddenly goes from 6 hours/week to 21 hours, entailing 5 different levels of English and textbooks I've never used before. The stress will be temporary, though, as we will be offloading some of these classes to new teachers who are coming on board in the next couple months.

Another revelation I had is about the power of Communism.  I spent a pretty amazing Sunday confronting both my fear of riding a motorbike and my fear of small spaces.  A group of 10 of us visited the Cu Chi Tunnels, a tourist attraction about an hour west of our city and whose name fortunately only makes the Americans snicker.  Instead of taking the 15 mph hour bus which takes forever, we took motorbikes, since most of the teachers rent or own one (not me, never).  I borrowed a helmet and accepted a ride with a young Brit named Sam - I told him I was slightly terrified and he promised to drive safely, which he did (unlike a certain teacher who drove me, Molly, and Greg around Morocco and nearly killed us.)  Though I was gripping the seat handles for dear life (my wrists and knees were aching after an hour), I quite enjoyed the ride - the breeze was a great way to escape the heat, and it was nice to leave the navigating and truck-dodging in someone else's hands.  I was quite aware of the risk in the high-traffic areas - in 3 weeks, I've already seen 2 bikes get hit by cars - but the fact that we barely went more than 35 mph put my mind at ease.  It was especially pleasant when we got into the less urban areas, onto smaller roads lined with shops, palm trees, other jungle-like vegetation, and occasional farms.  One thing that occurred to me as I watched the Vietnamese landscape roll by is that a defining feature of the developing world is life without the fourth wall: people live and work in structures that are open to the street.  You don't go through a door to enter a store.  People lounge in front of their living room TV, a few feet from the sidewalk.  There is no barrier between public and private life, both physically and metaphorically.  Here life happens in the community, whereas in America life happens in the confines of your home. Yet paradoxically, we respect our public spaces and make a mess of our bedrooms, and here they litter everywhere but keep their homes pretty tidy (at least it appears that way from the street).  Maybe that's not a paradox - the place where you spend the most time is going to be the most disorderly.  I wish I had photos to show of the roadside bars featuring arrays of hammocks, and the sun setting over the rice paddies, but on this outing, I was not yet brave enough to whip out my camera while speeding along at 35 mph.  Maybe next time.

Back to the main revelation.  The Cu Chi tunnels are a network of underground tunnels that were used by the Viet Cong as a hiding place and base of operations during the war:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cu_Chi_tunnels
Our tour started with a film that depicted happy Vietnamese soldiers setting traps for the nasty Americans while bizarrely upbeat music played over the narration…oooooh, I had forgotten that the guys who won this war are still running the country, so of course any information you get about the war is going to put it in a very positive light.  ("Propaganda" is the usual term, though I think any information we receive about anything could qualify as propaganda.) Not once during the tour did they mention the horrors of living underground in a space that is about as big as a coffin.  But they didn't need to, because we got to experience that first hand as we crawled through a tunnel (widened and lit for tourists) for about 180 seconds, and that was about all that I could bear.  I didn't think of myself as claustrophobic until I saw the opening that we were about to enter and seriously doubted whether I could do it.  But I had bravely come all that way on the back of a motorbike so this was no time to wimp out.  I got through the oppressively hot tunnel and managed to avoid a panic attack.  When I popped out, I was sweatier than I've ever been, my quadriceps burned from the crouching (and remained sore for the next 2 days), and I couldn't help but wonder why anyone forced to live in those conditions for more than an hour wouldn't just pop out and gladly take an enemy's bullet. Death seemed like such an easy choice in that situation.  So what gave them such an extraordinary power of will?  Well, I guess many wars have been fought in the name of religion, and in this case, the religion was Communism.  The tunnels and all the cruel traps that the Viet Cong ingeniously engineered made me think of Orwell's harrowing 1984, which I read for the first time this year, and also of all the Chinese students I've taught for whom "happiness" is an unfamiliar concept.  I guess the common thread here is the idea that life = pain, and anything else is self-indulgent and wrong.  The irony is that in Vietnam at least, Communism has proven much less compelling  during times of peace, and as a result, I work in a 22-story glass office building with a  KFC in the food court.
Here are photos from the Cu Chi Tunnels

Unrelated but newsworthy items:

• I vacated my lovely huge hotel room for a much smaller one on the floor below.  This will save me about $200/month so it was the sensible thing to do, though I do miss my big bathroom, cockroaches and all.  The new room is actually quite nice though so it's been less traumatic than I anticipated.
• I got a clean bill of health from the French hospital in Saigon.  The packet of results they sent was extremely thorough and included an ECG graph, urinalysis, blood analysis, and a chest x-ray.  This all cost me $80 which was reimbursed by my school.  I can only imagine what this type of exam would cost me in the states. 

More photos here of Cake and Party

Fast Forward

Remember when I said I wish I could fast forward to the cool part where I know all the cool expats and cool places to go?

Well, I'm getting close.

I hit it off with three Brits at a fancy buffet in Saigon a couple weeks ago - see my photos here:
Weekend in Saigon

I spent Saturday afternoon with some lovely ladies at a nearby golf resort where we got to use the enormous pool and taste a bunch of Argentinian wines.  Photos here:
Saturday at Song Be

Wine tasting at Song Be Golf Resort

Last night I attended my first Pub Quiz at JD's!  Craig and I had to work till 7:30 so we arrived late and joined a team called Gruesome Twosome, consisting of two fun ladies, Mel and Kristyn, who are English and Minnesotan, respectively.  We changed our team name to Awesome Foursome (which rhymes in a British accent), and then when Kristyn had to leave, we became Menage à Trois.  I suggested that next week that we go with a winning formula and choose a name beginning with Steve.  We chose Steve Martin.  So Steve Martin will return in a fortnight (that's 2 weeks, for my American friends ;-) to face an ever increasing number of teams, which means an ever increasing pot of money to win (you pay $2 to play).  Time to brush up on my opera trivia!  I actually thought we would rock the Anatomy category but we ended up bombing that one, which knocked us out of a very brief first place position.  Since a double Jamison at this bar is only $2.50, I might not have been at my sharpest, but I sure had a blast.  I believe at one point I did a celebratory salsa dance.

I work in Becamex Tower

I need to clarify that the 30 or so teachers who live here and frequent the Western restaurants are not the ones I work with - they teach at Eastern International University which is related to my school but located a ways north in a barren wasteland of new development.  I'm very lucky to be on the "Tower Team", as they call us, because we have a much lighter schedule (I'm up to 6 hours of teaching per week), a much better manager (a motherly Aussie named Michelle), and a much shorter commute (10 minute walk).  Most of the EIU teachers prefer to live in town, which suits me well cuz I get folks to hang out with.  They are mostly English, plus a few Irish, Scottish, and Australian, and I already find myself thinking and speaking in British English.  Don't be surprised if I come back home sounding like Madonna.  But go ahead and slap me.

So I am meeting people from other (Western) cultures, but as far as making Vietnamese friends, that's going to be tough until I find some that are bilingual.  I haven't made any progress with the language in part because I'm waiting to meet someone who could help me with the pronunciation. I could probably learn to write it pretty easily, but no one currently understands a word that I (or any other whitey here) says, mainly due to those damn tones (there are 6 of them).  I mostly communicate with the cute family that runs my hotel via notes that I copy from Google Translate, which probably don't make total grammatical sense but they seem to do the job ("I don't need new towels", "The cockroach is dead!", etc.)  I bet I could get the boy who's usually playing video games downstairs to help me pronounce some words if I write them down.  He doesn't speak any English but like everyone else on the street, gives me an enthusiastic and well-pronounced "Hello" every time I come in. 

I was struck by the similarities to Morocco when I first arrived, but they are quickly being overtaken by the differences.  The "hello" from people on the street is one of the main ones - it's not the lascivious "Bonjour, ca va?" that we got from all the annoying Moroccan men.  Here, children are our biggest fans, and when the men, young and old, do say hello, it's not gross.  It seems genuinely friendly. The ability to drink beer in the open air is another big plus, as is the lack of self-hatred, bitterness, misogyny, and cynophobia (Google it!) among the population.  Vietnamese people are very chill.

My Moroccan experience also made me skeptical about the food here, but I will admit that I was wrong on that front.  I thought it would be hard to find things that didn't make me sick, but I've been eating quite well (as you may have seen in my pics), and in fact I've gained 5 lbs. and counting.  I may need to scale back on my consumption of coffee-with-sweetened-condensed-milk, pork fat, and ice-cream sundaes.  Or I could just wait for an intestinal parasite to turn things around. ;-)

In our new duds from Citimart

On a related note, I have discovered that my clothing size here is 2xx Large.  No joke.  I just bought a blue shirt that size, and it was still a bit tight around the bust.  Jacqueline and I did a little shopping at the Citimart (= groceries + household goods + clothing), and I discovered some of that famous Asian-wear, i.e. t-shirts with Engrish phrases that make no sense.  I bought one that says "to always, stick."  I also bought a pair of shoes (the largest size they had) that have some pink flower decals on the heel, with the caption "Happy New Year."  ???

Perhaps this photo will illustrate why the clothing here is so small.  Haha, not quite fair though because Craig is 6'5".  Poor guy, whenever he's in the elevator at work, the Vietnamese unabashedly snicker and comment among themselves.  Sometimes they kindly point out to him that he's tall.  I feel for him every time I ride a bus with my knees smashed against the seat in front of me.  I still haven't ridden on the back of a motorbike, but I can only imagine how uncomfortable that is for him too.

Regarding the motorbikes, they are ubiquitous, as you probably know, but here are a few things you might not know:
1) They actually do follow traffic lights at a FEW of the big intersections.  But it is still terrifying to cross because you can't tell when the light is going to change, so if you get half way and it changes, you will immediately be engulfed in a sea of bikes.  At least they are pretty good at weaving around pedestrians.
2) You often see one going down the street the WRONG WAY, with shocking success.
3) You often see one with a TODDLER, helmet-less, wedged in front of the driver.

But my biggest surprise so far is definitely the construction of a giant Catholic cathedral in the middle of town.  I expected to see existing cathedrals left by the French, but a new one?  In the business sector of a communist country with a few Buddhists??  I guess they got hip to the fact that there's a lot of money to be made in religion.

Don't go without checking out these photos too!
Exploring my city

Things you may not realize about my life in Vietnam

Paradise Cafe right across from my hotel

1. My favorite after-school snack is Iced Coffee with Bailey's, only $1.25!

Big tub and shower head...just no hot water

2. My fancy hotel does not have hot water.  At least not often.  The water heater is apparently solar powered, an exceptionally bad idea in a country where it rains constantly.  So on a sunny day, we might have hot water.  It's not a big problem, though, because I keep my room at a balmy 75 degrees, and the water is warm-ish, just not hot.

3. I have a nice cubicle with a computer at work, but no classes to teach.  I get to sit there for 8 hours each day and do "prep work".  This involves a lot of laminating and rubrics.  I don't mind too much since they're paying me, but I look forward to teaching in a few weeks when we get more students.

4. Other than beer and public transit, the type of things that I buy here are not much cheaper than in the U.S. - e.g. hairdryer $10, umbrella $5, lunch at the food court $4

5. It's SO much like Rabat.  Let me list the ways:

• lots of cute pregnant dogs on the street
• good local beer, only 60¢ a glass
• dirty streets lined with store fronts selling plastic items, snacks, clothes, phone cards, etc
• relatively overpriced Walmart-type stores (Margane in Rabat, Citimart here)
• mobile phone service that works the same way; in fact, I'm using my Moroccan phone with the little Arabic letters! It was fun to charge it up and read the text messages still on there from Molly, Leila, Romain, Andreas, and Anja. :-)
• strange middle class suburbs (see previous entry, "Suburgatory")

But of course, it's so different from Rabat in that:

• sometimes people eat the stray dogs
• there are fewer stray cats; I don't think they get eaten so much, because people keep them around to control the rats
• people here smile more and (because?) they don't live their life by the Koran (BIG plus)
• I can comfortably sit at a bar or cafe, and drink alcohol in the open air
• I can walk to work in peace.  Sure, I get a few looks and the scooter-taxis might call out to me, but when I ignore them, they continue on.
• we have access to office supplies and a copy machine at work, though we've been warned that paper limitations may be imposed
• I have NO way to communicate with the locals: English doesn't work, French doesn't work, my attempts at Vietnamese don't work, gestures don't work, and pointing at the exact thing I want doesn't always work either.  My only hope is to make some bilingual friends.

6. Though they have obviously embraced capitalism here, there are still scooters that go around blasting propaganda through a loud speaker.

7. Nothing I've eaten has made me sick yet! I haven't been too adventurous, sticking mainly to the places with English menus, but it's good to know that if washed properly, I can handle the veggies.

That's my desk at the back of our cavernous teachers' room

8. I have only 2 co-workers, an American, Don, who has been in Vietnam for 5 years (yes, with a Vietnamese wife, though they are separated now), and a lovely young Brit, Craig, who is the tallest skinniest person in the whole country and is going to have a real hard time finding trousers.

9.  Beer is served with ice.  At least it's the big chunks made from purified water, like what nice American bars use for an Old Fashioned.

10.  There are snails as big as my fist with big beautiful shells.  And yes, they eat them.

Making friends with Arthropods

Hurray for the weekend!  I kicked it off with this AWESOME all-you-can eat BBQ at JD's, a fun expat hangout run by a Brit named Harry.  The BBQ featured Western quality meats, great potato salad, and traditional Vietnamese dishes prepared by Harry's wife (like those mint-rolled beef skewers and a delicious curry beef stew). Most worthy of your jealousy were the jumbo prawns, which started on a bed of ice and were then thrown on the grill while I waited.  Now sometimes shrimp creep me out because they are related to bugs, but I had no problem tearing off the head as well as the segmented appendages to devour the sweet meat inside.  
 
All that and two beers came to $10. Who's coming to visit??

It was funny because the night before I had been watching Anthony Bourdain eat sausage and beer in Prague, and some other food program about Malaysia. So during this buffet, I totally felt like I was on the Food Network. :-)


Maybe my comfort with the shrimp was the result of my battle with another arthropod.   Though my hotel room is huge and pretty luxurious, there is often a lizard running down the wall.  But that's all fun and games. As a true test of my commitment to Vietnam, the first night here, I turned on the bathroom light before going to bed to find crawling all over my sparkling white bathtub the biggest cockroach I've ever seen. As Indiana Jones would say, "Cockroaches...I hate cockroaches."

What did I do? Went running down to the front desk, of course. I don't go anywhere near cockroaches. The cleaning lady came up (intending to smash it, I presume...ugh) but it was gone by the time she got there.  The next time he came out, we got him with some Raid, which they graciously left with me.  I've seen only one more, which I single-handedly nailed with the Raid.  I sleep with the bathroom light on, and inspect carefully before entering, but I almost feel like I have made some peace with them.  I think their huge size makes it easier for me to think of them as "animals", and I feel a bit of pity when I see them wriggling to death.  I still prefer not to see them at all, but those who know me might be surprised that I have not fled the country yet.

Suburgatory, Third World Style

Tough choices: Lord of the Rings, or Chronicles of Narnia?

These are the dilemmas I face in the confines of my nice (albeit cockroach-ridden) hotel room in Thu Dau Mot.

After venturing into Saigon today for my health check at the French hospital, I can definitively say that the suburb I live in is depressing. That should not be news to anyone, though suburbs in the developing world are different than in America because they look like a city that's been bombed: tall modern buildings separated by empty lots full of trash and chickens.  Except of course it's the inverse of bombing, because these buildings were built amidst the rubble and no one seems to think this adversely affects the property value.  Sure, Saigon is dirty too, but it's got charm and history that makes up for it.

Predictably, there is very little to do in this suburb. Compared with Saigon, it's much like the Rabat-Casablanca dichotomy - it's safer and quieter here, but dreadfully boring.  There are exactly 2 places where Westerners eat: JD's (my favorite), and Billy the Texan's place.  For all of you who were "jealous" that I get to eat Pho everyday, just imagine ending a steamy hot day with a steamy hot bowl of soup.  I don't get how this could possibly be their national dish.  I'm still looking for banh-mi sandwiches like the type they have in the OC.

This is not to say that I'm miserable.  It's almost exactly as I expected.  I just wish I could fast-forward to the part where I know all the cool expats (very scarce so far) and some cool bilingual locals who can take me to the cool spots.

For now, I spend my evenings with satellite TV.  Once the novelty wears off, I'll get back to my reading.

EVA Airways Flight BR15

My flight from LAX to Taipei was very cute. EVA is a Taiwanese airline with a lime green theme. The slippers, cups, utensils, and even the dessert were lime green (it was quite tasty - some kind of pistachio cake). The flight attendants were adorable and spoke excellent English.

While waiting to board, it looked like I was the only American on this entire flight. Oh wait, no, an obnoxious group of middle-aged surfer dudes just showed up. Swell. Guess where they ended up sitting on the plane? All around me. But they seemed to have some powerful drugs that shut them up pretty quickly. One of them got in trouble for sleeping on the floor. They were headed to Bali.  I was actually next to an Australian girl who had been traveling in the states. She really loved Utah and prayed before eating.

For dinner (at 3am), I had shrimp fried rice with a delicious ice-cold Kirin. For breakfast I got "porridge", which was topped with pork, eggs, and green onions. Not too bad actually. There were some odd pickled fruits and some red stringy stuff. Also a pouch of "Fish Floss" which I guess was a topping for the porridge, but not anything I was inclined to eat.

For entertainment, I watched half of a bad French movie ("Polisse") and an episode of Hawaii Five-O. Why? I don't know.

 Ok now I need to learn some Vietnamese on my Kindle.

Click here for photos of my layover at Taipei Airport.
Click here for photos of my arrival in Vietnam

My fav is definitely the "Speed Puff Jet".