I think I swallowed a bug..

Sweet, two Apocalypse now references back to back, with the title of this blog being pretty apropos. Two nights ago I met up with my friend Phi, a Vietnamese girl I met with her boyfriend Thieu last year while I was traveling to Hoi An. She took me to her father's restaurant, which was close to my hotel, located on 70 Nguyen Thai Binh street, district 1. It was a glorified street joint, but it had a fairly deep menu, and it specialized in Chinese food. (Phi's father is of Chinese descent) Phi ordered a bunch of different things, the best being these small cooked clams. She then told me about this crazy bug he serves, which she called doung. I told her I'd like to try it, since I never ate a bug before, at least not intentionally. They brought it out first alive, these two giant larva things, moving around on a plate made of straw. They then took them back to cook them. It was actually pretty good, but it definitely felt weird, since it was filled with this milk-like substance that poured out into your mouth when you bit into it. (You eat it whole) I have pictures, but I can't upload them now. It was a great night, and I also met with Phi's friend named Houng.

So, yesterday was a really crazy day. In the morning I walked around the city, checking out some sights. I bought a $4 bottle of Hungarian champagne for new years, and then went to the river to sit and chill. In Saigon, there are all these people walking around, carrying these large flat displays with sunglasses and lighters, trying to sell them to tourists. Like everyone who peddles things to foreigners, they can be pretty annoying and pushy. While I was sitting at that bench, one of them came up to me, a guy in his late 50's. I told him I'm not interested, thinking he'll go away. He put his display down however, saying he needed a break. He started to chat with me, and when I told him I was from America, a big smile came on his face. He immediately told me that he fought on the American side during the war, which is how he learned English. He then told me about his life, that was from Danang, where his wife and grown children live. He has an apartment in Saigon, and sells crap to tourists for a living. I was pretty shocked at about how open he was about telling me he fought for the Americans, which he brought up several times, and even bragged about killing "four VC" at once during a fight. We talked for about a half-hour, and then he got up, picked up his display, and went over to a nearby bench with two tourists, trying to make a sale.

Later that night, I met up Hien, a friend of Ben's who works for an English school. She introduced me to an American friend of hers, Chad, who works at the school, and a friend of his, Polly, from Chile. We went over to a nearby park which had this big international food festival, with booths selling food from various countries. We had some pretty kick ass tacos, a somasa, some beers, and a lot of Vietnamese food. I also met up with Phi there, who was with Thieu, Houng, Phi's aunt and brother, and Houng's friend Tuan.

So, while everyone was at the festival, me, Houng and Tuan ended up going to a coffee shop to have a meeting. The previous day, I told Houng that I worked in the TV and film industry, and that I had some interest in maybe working on something in Vietnam. As it turns out, her friend Tuan worked in the TV industry in Ho Chi Minh City, and that he's looking to start his own cable channel. At the coffee shop, he gave some papers describing his business plan, and we talked about me me being an adviser for him. Vietnamese productions are pretty ghetto, and he said he's keen on having an experienced person from the U.S. helping him make a higher quality product. I told him that I would agree to help him out, and said he can use my name to help get him funds from investors. It was definitely a great conversation, and I'm not sure if anything will come of it, but I would love to be able to work on something out here. It's crazy how I was talking about wanting to get a production job abroad for a while, and then out of now where, I'm talking with a guy I just met about helping start a production company. We'll see if anything comes from this.

I later returned to the festival, where Phi took me to a booth where they had these giant snails, which were pretty good. Phi and her friends left, and I went with Hien, Chad and Polly to a nearby bar. We're sitting there, and then out of no where, Justin and Dana - Ben's cousins - just happen to walk by with their friend Natasha. It was great, since I wanted to meet up with them while they were in town, but couldn't reach them since I only knew their Facebook pages, but Facebook is blocked by the government in Vietnam. (While there is a way around it, for some reason, it stopped working) Hien and her friends peaced out, and I met up with Dana, Justin and Natasha for drinks. I got really shitfaced, and I think I drank snake wine, which is vodka that has a dead snake soaking in it. It tasted like ass, but it sure got me drunk.

I got home late and slept until 11:30, which made me late to a lunch meeting I had with Phi this morning. After lunch, her brother Han took me around the city on a motor bike, showing me a couple of pagodas in Chinatown. We drove around some, and then we met up with his friends for coffee at an outdoor cafe. Tonight,I'm meeting Hien for dinner, and then possibly Phi for the New Years countdown

Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh City

Saigon... shit, I'm still only in Saigon. Everytime I think I'm gonna wake up back in the jungle... I'm here about a [day] now... still waiting for a mission... getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker, and every minute Charlie squats in the bush he gets stronger. Each time I looked around, the walls moved in a little tighter.

Yeah, I would say that opening lines of Apocalypse Now sum up my first couple hours in Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it used to be (and sometimes still is) called. Its kinda great to be back. After about an hour of walking around Pham Ngu Lau with all my bags through the sweltering heat, I finally decided on a hotel unfortunately called the Dung Hotel. $15 a night, AC, wi-fi, and a balcony, although the rooms smell like - you guessed it - cheap cologne. I aired out the place when I got in, thinking that would be enough, but realized they wash their sheets with chinese perfume, and the smell will just not go away. It might be a deal killer, as its almost making my eyes water as I'm writing.

Finding a hotel here can sometimes be fun. Oviously, you want a nice room, but I also try to go by the attitude of the person at reception. Most hotels here are family-run guest houses, where the owners live in a room in the hotel, so getting the right person can be key. The second hotel I walked into was called the Hong Kong, and the elderly women behind the desk had smeared lipstick and was wearing a motorcycle helmet. Definitely a good start, but the place kinda looked dirty. Still, the rates seemed good, and I told her I'd walk around to see other hotels first, but might come back. In order to seal the deal, she then takes out a worn out book of pictures of hot chicks, waves it around and says something about "massage" in my room. In a way, I'm curious what life would be like in a guest house run by a crazy old female pimp, but I have a feeling however it would be, it'd get old fast.

Last day in Bangkok was nice, walked around the city with my mom, tried to go the Grand Palace, but walked through chinatown and ended up at Wat Pho instead (the massage-teaching temple) then we met up with Nora and David for drinks at a place I think called Green Space or Beergarden. Neat place, on the 40th floor of an office building. Had chicken nuggets and french fries there, since I was jonesin' for some American junk food. Today in HCMC, I made plans to meet up with Phi for dinner at her dad's restaurant. I met Phi and her boyfriend last time I was here, going to Danang, and its always the best when you know people in a foriegn city.

Man-ssage!

A couple days ago on the night bike tour of Bangkok, we visited Wat Pho, the temple where Thai people have been going to learn the art of massage for hundreds of years. Inscribed on it's walls are diagrams of bodies, with written text on what to do with what part. Well, centuries of knowledge passed down for generations finally culminated in its ultimate purpose yesterday, with me getting my very first Thai massage. It hurt like fuck, was awkward as all hell, but I still came out feeling oddly good. When I called to reserve it, (the place was called Soul Leaf) the woman on the phone asked if I wanted a man or woman. I told her I don't care, which of course ended up meaning "Dude please." Never having a Thai massage before, I really had no idea how comically intimate the whole thing is.

The first thing the guy does was to oh-so-gingerly wash my feet, gently and slowly like we're in an R&B video. After that, I laid on my back, and it wasn't too long before the guy is essentially dry-humping me while he has my leg bent in some unholy position. I tried not to laugh, which was easy since no part of the massage was devoid of pain. I started to get a little concerned, since I realized the guy was looking dead at me the whole time, and every time I would glance at him, he would kinda laugh. So, like a rape victim, I just stared at the ceiling praying he didn't kill me. The whole thing was about 90 minutes, during which time I was just counting the clock for it to be over, but when it was finally done, I felt pretty damn good.

Later, my mom and I went for a walk around town where I went to a dive restaurant Nora and David took me to earlier, but didn't have much luck with what I ordered. At night, we went to a restaurant my friend Mark Morgan suggested - Wong's Place - but it was closed. So, we went to Vertigo, a bar on the 61st floor of an upscale hotel. It was actually on the roof, making it a pretty exhilarating experience, which we paid dearly for with over-priced drinks.

Bitchin' Bangkok

Last couple of days in Bangkok have been pretty chill. It's kinda nice to just relax a little, and not have anything to do. Staying at an upscale luxury condo don't hurt none either. On Christmas day, me, my mom, David and Nora went out for a walk, took the river ferry north a bit, and checked out Wat Arun, Temple of the Dawn. Really pretty, got to climb it about half way. And I do mean climb, since it has these extremely steep steps. After that, took the ferry across the river and walked around Chinatown a bit. We then went to the Gold Mount Temple, which doubles as this crazy Chinese cemetery built into the sides of the small cliff-like hill. Took the canal taxi, which is kinda cool, since the boats are fast and the canals are narrow, kinda like a mini roller coaster ride.

Yesterday was good; I got a lot done. Bought my ticket to Ho Chi Minh City, and pretty much got a lot of other things done too. That night, I went on a night bike tour with a company called Grasshopper Tours. The whole thing was pretty cool, although you do feel a lot like a tool, just jetting through narrow streets on a pink bike and loud ass helmet. If you get over having people literally pointing and laughing at you, it's a pretty fun thing to do. The people on the tour were nice, and our guide knew her stuff. After that, I decided to try my luck getting a beer in Khao San road, the big backpacker hang out. I had a whole previous blog about how shitty it was during the day, and it was pretty much a circus at night. Got one beer at a bar where a Thai guy in a cowboy hat and an "Alabama" t-shirt was playing old American acoustic and country songs on a guitar. He kinda ruled, not being the best guitar player ever, but more than making it up with gusto. He played "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash, which was great. After that, tried another beer at another bar. Khao San is a strange place. Filled with tourists, it really reminds you of one giant Senor Frogs. Didn't meet anyone there as I had hoped, but it was still interesting. It didn't seem like many people were having fun, most people just sat drinking their beers in silence, either watching the soccer game that was on or just staring blankly into space. Went home after two beers.

Bangkok Whore Benefit / Christmas / Literally Asian Seabass

Landed in Bangkok early on the 23rd, and me and my mom promptly took a reserved taxi to Pattaya, a big tourist town two hours east of the city. Our driver was Julie, a Thai woman who spent half the ride doing what every cab driver int he world does, which is complain about how fucked up the country is. She ended up over-charging us, but I'm not sure if she was being scummy, or if there was something mixed up when she got the order. Supposedly, Pattaya is known for it's whores, which is kind of a redundant statement in any tourist spot in Thailand, but fitting with what we came here to do.

So, what's more awesome than going to a fund-raising gala event to benefit Thai hookers held in an upscale hotel? If you said going to a fund-raising gala event to benefit Thai hookers held in an upscale hotel with your mom, than your speaking my language. Sooooo, the whole reason we came out here was to attend this kind of fundraiser party that was being held in conjunction with an NGO where David - my mom's friend in Bangkok - works. (Btw, since when did hookers ever need a fundraiser?) We were told to to wear gold, and luckily the day before I was able to buy some gold looking silk pajamas in Hanoi. Well, besides the fact that I was under the impression that this was supposed to be a giant whore parade, and not something that was just held inside the reception room of a 3-star hotel, it was still probably the craziest thing I've done in Bangkok so far. (When was the last time you ever heard the San Diego Marriot hosting a prostitute fundraiser, or at least an open one) Nora, David's wife, met us at the lobby, and in her high-energy chaotic Spanish-ness, escorted us to a "changing room" where we could get into our gold outfits, which was really a giant conference room filled with Thai ladyboys getting changed as well. It was a good start to the day, kind of setting the tone for the rest of the event.

So, we finally walk into the reception hall, which is this giant space, and you can hear the blaring Thai pop music a mile away. I was greeted by some six foot Thai transvestite who just seemed way too happy to see us. There was a stage, where a bunch of other transvestites were dancing, and the place was packed and going absolutely nuts. There was about 500 people there, most of them prostitutes, both male and female. For the next couple of hours, various different Thai pop acts hit the stage, each getting a big reaction from the crowd, which was dancing like crazy. I rarely see any Thai men who are ever taller than me, but apparently the rules that seem to govern drag culture everywhere in the world are stronger than genetics, since nearly every cross-dressed male was well over six feet tall. A lot of them were carrying around these giant 3 gallon glass jugs from Carlos Rossi wine that they had filled with just the most horrendous alcohol ever made. Dubbed "Thai whiskey," it tasted more like Whole Foods herbal cough syrup mixed with drain opener. Didn't mean it wasn't a big hit with locals though.

Another Western "rule" that seemed to apply was the same one that governs any kind of dress-up party in the US, stating that gay guys need to go over the top and elaborate with their costumes, while the straight girls just have to dress like sluts. You'd think that Thai hookers would want to get out their work clothes for a thing like this, but you'd be wrong. It did make sense, however, because many of them were obviously still "on the clock." You see, what made the whole party especially creepy was the fact that there were a bunch of Johns hanging out there too, each escorting their Thai hooker "girlfriends." I'm not sure exactly how it works out here, but everywhere in Bangkok you see some middle aged white guy awkwardly holding hands with a much younger done-up Thai girl, each staring blankly and intensely ahead, their faces being as far away from showing anything resembling joy as can be biologically possible. You'd think the guys would be all about "hit it and quit it" when it came to foreign prostitutes they can barely understand, but apparently a lot of male (and even some female) tourists come here to get the whole girlfriend experience on the cheap as well, regardless of how utterly uncomfortable the whole thing looks. I've seen them go on walks with their hookers, tell them stories about their families, cuddle in public (albeit very uneasily) take them shopping, and even buy them ice-cream. Awwwww.

So when their little $200-a-night angels need to go to a fundraiser party, the thought of being away from snookums for one eency-weency minute (before of course they fly back home in a couple days and never see them again) is just too hard for the Johns to bear. And so, here we all are, me, about 30 college-educated liberals who work for AIDS prevention NGO's, about 400 straight and trans-gender prostitutes, and about a dozen or so creepy dour-faced clients, all just tearin' it up on the dance floor to best pop songs Thailand has to offer (Someone did do a cover of "Zombie" by the Cranberries though. Nice!) I'm not sure what I was expecting to see at a prostitute party outside of Bangkok, but for the most part it seemed like a everything was a whole lot of fun, up until a point though. Seeing male clients with hookers was a little creepy, but in many cases was at least kinda funny and even a little endearing (like the six-foot-plus computer programmer dude with a ponytail being taught to dance by his "lady.") It wasn't even that bad when I saw a girl leading a guy in his sixties by the hand into the bathroom, it just made me decide to use the downstairs bathroom in the lobby from now on. However, the thing that really broke my heart and made it all too real was when the girls were obviously much younger than the guys they were with. I'm sure all the sex-workers there, male and female, were "legal," but viscerally it was still hard to tell, and still didn't make it much better. It's bad enough that the girl sitting on a middle-aged white guys lap right next to me looked like she was 12, but it didn't really quite punch me in the face until when, after a new act would come on stage, she all her friends would start squealing like they just saw Justin Bieber get out of a limo. The guy looked like a serial killer, and gave me the look of death when I tried to take a picture of him

While illegal, prostitution is apparently much more accepted in Thailand than in most parts of the world. I've never seen it be so open and in your face in my life. In some ways, this openness is at least honest, since even the most respectable people on earth use prostitutes, so why drive the trade underground where nothing but bad things can happen. The fact that the sex-workers could come out and have fun without the burden of a Scarlett Letter-like shame is in someways very endearing. Much like modeling and porn, there is a short shelf-life for this job, one without any future, and you could see that evident at the party as well. It was hard to spot a prostitute in the room over thirty, and if you did, you wish you hadn't. You have to figure that everyone at the party knew this deep down somewhere, but at least for today, they could make the most of it, and have some fun while they still could

So, of course, the next day was Christmas, or really Christmas Eve, which is the day us Polaks celebrate. With my mom out here, we were able to get a pretty authentic "Wigilia" dinner, especially since David is very into his own Polish heritage. Surprisingly, we found nearly every ingredient you need, and had a really kick-ass Polish Christmas in Bangkok, the world of Thai sex-workers already a million miles away. Borscht, mushroom soup, sauerkraut and cheese pierogi (heavan!) as well as this amazing sea-bass baked with oranges (No carp, but I guess my nickname had to represent) All of it awesome, and all of it made me the most full I've felt in a while. Great first two days in Bangkok.

3 Day Trek

And so, after Ben and Huyen's wedding, began the best part of my Hanoi trip, the three day trek through the remote countryside of Vietnam. After Nimh Binh, we loaded up the ol' pink "ABC Royal Cruiser" bus, and headed out to Mai Chau, a small town west of Hanoi. It still was home to a fancy tourist lodge, where some of Ben's friends and family decided to stay. Me, my mom, and a handful of others went about a half a mile away to do a stay at a complex of traditional stilt houses. Even though it was clearly built for tourists, it was still a functioning farming village, with locals staying in the houses when they weren't rented out. We had an awesome dinner there, and then went for a bonfire in a nearby field, where we had the choice between having karaoke set up, or seeing a traditional Vietnamese dance preformed for us. We opted for the traditional dance, but the group of drunk Vietnamese college kids right next to us chose the karaoke machine, making for a interesting mix. We had this local wine, which is essentially whole, dried, fermented rice inside these good-sized clay pots. You fill them up with water, and let them sit for an hour, after wich you drink them out out of long bamboo straws. It was pretty good, although weak, but we may have not let the water sit long enough. The traditional dancing was kinda cool, and was concluded with everyone's favorite activity, having to hold hands and dance in a circle, while all the local dancers sang a song praising Ho Chi Minh. Later, Ben's cousin Justin passed out in front of the fire, so Ben decided to prank him and have everyone leave and hide behind some bushes and try to yell his name to wake him up. Huyen decided it would be better if a local went over to wake him, so she asked one of the villagers who was nearby to do so. It was a pretty funny prank, as Justin woke up making a big "Whaaaa?" sound. People could barely hold in laughing as he was scratching his head, wondering where everyone went and why this Vietnamese woman was yelling at him, but he eventually found us. He was a pretty great sport about it all.

We slept on the floor in these stilt houses, although we were given these thin mattress-like things, pillows and mosquito nets. I would have slept really well if it wasn't for the 20 fucking roosters that were all about, which decided that waiting for at least sunrise before they lead a never-ending screeching barrage of rooster calls was just toooooo much to ask for. Breakfast was the absolute tits; awesome crepes with sliced bananas and honey, one of the best breakfasts I've ever had in my life. We found out that the honey was local, and were foolishly unaware of the ominous omen that it would eventually turn out to be. (more on that later) We then started out on a 25 km hike to another village and home stay. This was by far the highlight of the whole wedding program, and probably one of the best thing I've done on my Asia trip so far, up there with the Nepalese monastery. We had a guide lead about a dozen or so of us. There was Ben and Huyen, my mom, Ben's sister Hanna, Ben's cousins Dana and Justin (both brother and sister) the Australians Claire and Simon, their 20-something kids Lily and George (who looked like fucking Greek statues), and my and Ben's friends J.R., Carbone, and Mark Roden.

Everyone on the trip was absolutely awesome, and I was really glad that we ended up with the group that we did. However, I have to take a moment here and single out Mark. I've known Mark for a couple years, working together on Big Brother. I decided to tell my mom before she met him that she might be taken aback by him, since he has a very forward personality and can come off as obnoxious. My mom, being my mom, later had decided, in the infinite wisdom that befalls us when we've downed a bunch of shots of rice wine, to tell Mark I told her this, but I think Mark got that I meant no harm. Either way, Mark - along I would say with my Mom - became the absolute life of the wedding. At the wedding pre-reception, Mark was doing his crazy wedding dancing, getting along with all the kids, teaching them to high-five. My Mom tried not be undone, and became a dancing machine herself, taking an old village woman to the dance floor, who looked about as happy as a person could possibly ever be. Anyway, Mark was busy making all the villagers crack up, and became everyone's best friend there. All along the way, I don't think I've ever seen him more in his element. I even commented to him that he had been "on" for something like four days straight, always cracking people up, but not taking over all the spotlight either. On one of the legs of the bus ride, he ended up telling one of the greatest personal stories I've ever heard, which culminated with him having a dildo-swallowing contest with a stripper at a bachelor party. I hate singling out people on the trip, since everyone was really just cool and fun, but for some reason I gotta tip my hat to Mark on this one. May the "ooooh, you and Mark are now boyfriends" jokes commence

So, back to the hike. 25 km (15 miles) through remote Vietnamese jungles and mountains. We had a guide, who would tell us to wait at a spot several times, wander off into the jungle, but thankfully always come back after figuring out how to go. The whole place was just absolutely beautiful, and I'll put pictures up later. The hike was fairly intense, and while there was always a trail it was definitely steep uphill and down, and we saw many people slipping and busting their ass. (Not me!!!) We would walk past some seriously remote villages, some consisting of just a dozen huts, most of them without access to water, electricity or even roads. We'd even walk through a large chunk of jungle to come across a single hut, probably housing some seriously anti-social Asians, although everyone we came across was super nice. One woman did pester me for money after I took a picture of her, but even she was nice, albeit crazy poor and crazy crazy. We all ended up bonding greatly on the trip, and I even was able to fall behind away from the group and just be by myself for about a half hour. It's hard to describe the experience of standing over a cliff opening up to an expanse of untouched jungle, surrounded by the cacophony of nature, but it was definitely a moment that lets you remember to be thrilled to be alive. One great thing about traveling to amazing places is that you get to be a cliche in a way, saying things that can come off as lame, but knowing that the experience put into words could only hold true meaning for yourself and yourself alone. I don't know how I'll remember this moment, or what I would think when I read this in the future (what's up future me, like hope shit's fucking awesome an' stuff) but even writing it now opens it all back. On a trip like this, with plenty of pit falls and bad experiences, I think it's important to remember the good you get from it all, and to cherish all those moments that you're lucky enough to have your breath taken away by, the reasons we do anything in life that's worth a damn.

One thing the hike taught me is that the Vietnamese are some tough motherfuckers, and they're probably a little curious how we ever gave them a serious fight in the war. We were all huffing and puffing after about a half hour into our trek, each silently complaining about the ever increasing strain their light backpacks were making. (or maybe that was just me) We then would walk past some middle-aged Vietnamese woman hauling 40 pounds of logs strapped to her forehead (yeah, I said forehead), barely breaking a sweat, and still having enough of it in her to just light up with a smile when she walked past us. Life out there meant hard work, and lost of it, the type I think Americans, with all our arrogance and judgmentalism (not a real word, I know, just work with me here people), have clearly forgotten was how the world lived not too long ago. One thing that was interesting was that it seemed like women did all the work in the fields. We even saw a woman plowing a field by hand, which shocked even Huyen, who claimed that this is usually the work of water buffalo. While the women seemed to be the ones tending the land and carrying the fire wood, the dudes seemed to be working on smoking tobacco out of bamboo bongs and just hangin' out. It may have just been a coincidence, or having my Mom nearby be a reminder that I have essentially been raised on a healthy dose of feminist tirades since birth, but I don't think I ever say any male working anywhere on the whole hike. Fucking chauvinists, it's guys like that that make us all look bad, ain't that right ladies.

After 15 miles and eight hours of some of the most memorable scenery I've ever seen, we eventually made it to our village, which luckily was next to a well-paved road, and meant we didn't have to hike back the next day to get back on the bus. It's the journey not the destination grasshopper, and I don't think I felt more relief in my life when I took off my backpack and sat in a chair. I chilled downstairs for a minute and enjoyed a Halida beer, while Ben and some others went upstairs into the stilt house where we'd all be sleeping. I heard someone say something about bees, but didn't realize what they meant until I peeked through a hole in the ceiling that gave me a view of a light bulb upstairs, swarming with hundreds of bees. "I hope people like bees" is what I think Ben said, but I don't think that's funny since bees scare the fucking absolute shit out of me, and don't even joke about it, cuz it's not funny. I got teased after I told people of my bee phobia (it's really a fear of most bugs), with my mom curiously joining in on all the fun. The bees apparently had their nearby hive broken recently, and decided to make the stilt house their new home. They were also attracted to light bulbs, something I've never seen before. I actually was surprisingly fine with it all, and even seemed much less scarred than many other people on the trip. (oh, not so funny when bees are all up in your grill, is it?) Huyen was the only casualty, being not only brave enough to have to sit directly under the light bulb where all the bees were swarming, but also barely making a fuss when one of those fuckers stung her. The bees became a highlight in a weird way, a great joke to bond over, just a great, terrifyingly traumatic experience to bring the whole group togrther. They really should think of releasing hundreds of bees into those corporate team-building retreats, or at least give it a try.

Oh, and this village had mean dogs too. I decided to do a late night stroll through town, but didn't get too far, and just stood out admiring a field that was eerily very well-lit by something in the sky. I could hear all kinds of barking coming from close by, even the sounds of an angry water buffalo. (J.R. had been literally kinda attacked earlier that day by one, and had to be be saved by a villager) On my way back I suddenly could hear a bunch of barking dogs coming closer, so I tried to quickly tried to walk up the path leading to the hut where we were staying at, suddenly realizing one of the dogs was close and coming straight at me from behind. Not the most vicious looking dog, in fact he, like all the other dogs in the village, was kinda cute, but I still was not looking forward to getting bit by any animal in a Vietnamese jungle-village. I quickened my pace, and then suddenly, out of no where, two dogs came running out of the house in front of me. I think, "oh good, I'm gonna get mauled by a pack of adorable dogs," but soon realized these two dogs were coming to my rescue. Luckily, they saw me be invited by the owner, and came to chase off the dog behind me. Thanks bros, I owe you one.

And also, more fucking roosters, the village had a bunch of them too. The bees had gone to sleep before us, but that just meant they were up before us too, so if you weren't woken up by the roosters, the much harder "beds" and pillows, the shaky bamboo floor that shifted below you every time someone turned around in their sleep, you defnitely were awake when you heard the soothingly unique sounds of a bee swarm just a couple feet away. Luckily we had mosquito nets, but of course I had to trade mine out earlier when I saw that I had the one that had bees on the inside of it. Oddly enough, everyone claimed to have very vivid dreams, me included, all being borderline nightmares (mine was being in weird situations involving being attacked by dogs) Breakfast was crepes again, with bananas and - of course - honey, which people seemed to get more serious when they saw.

We headed back, and while were only gone for three days, but it felt like a month. The last night in Hanoi was great, most of us grabbed some beers at a Bia Hoi, which is an open-air bar that's just is a collection of child-sized plastic chairs and some guy giving you ice-cold beers. While these are where most locals go, the one we went to was populated entirely of tourists, but still a lot of fun. We ended up later at a more Western-style bar called Half-Man, Half Noodle, which Ben seemed to like mostly because they had Jenga. Being back in Vietnam was just great, and being able to experience it with my mom was even a good thing, despite the fact that she did drive me nuts a lot. Since it was so well planned it obviously lacked the spontaneity and the same energy of my first trip (it was a little bit "been there, done that" this time around) but I loved it nonetheless. I've been to a couple Asian countries already, yet Vietnam still seems like the one where everything just makes a little more sense to me, and this trip seems to have solidified that bond. I'm looking on going back in about a week, maybe using up the rest of my one-month visa in Ho Cho Minh City for a week or two.

Ben and Huyen Wedding

Finally got internet access after an amazing five day journey that encompassed Ben's wedding. We left Hanoi early on the 18th to go to Phu Ly, a city about an hour south, where we stayed one night. Our last day in Hanoi, the 17th was just OK. Me and Mark had decided to find a shampoo massage place, which I'm told is the thing to do here. It's supposed to be an elaborate process that involves a face massage and a couple of people, and lasts about a half hour. The place we got just had one guy washing my hair for a couple minutes, while his buddy kept saying I have pretty hair. After that, we met up with Ben and a whole contingent of people that included some of his family, and we had dinner at a place called Quan An Ngon, where me and Mark coincidentally had lunch earlier. Great place, upscale, but not expensive, it's seemed to be almost entirely filled with Hanoi yuppies rather than tourists. After that, we had drinks at the hidden cafe; I never remember the name of it, but it's the place where you have to go through an alley or clothing shop to get to. I had some brilliant idea of drinking a ton of coffee that day, and got sick at the end of the night and had to go back to the hotel, but my Mom went out with Mark and her friend Jonathan for karaoke, and apparently then to some scummy gay-ish bar located in a barge on the river, which I'm sure Jonathan and Mark were absolutely thrilled to accompany my mom in.

So now the good stuff. Early on the 18th, me, my mom and Mark met with Ben and all his guests that flew in for the wedding for lunch, and afterwards boarded a rented tourist bus to Phu Ly, a small city south of Hanoi. Never felt more like a tourist in my life, sitting pretty aboard a gigantic fuck-all bus haulin' ass down roads flanked by ceaselessly staring locals. The bus became an organism unto itself, a cross between the PT boat in Apocalypse Now and a Carnival cruise ship, a traveling fortress allowing a tiny slice of the United States of America to safely cut through once hostile territory, harboring it's riders from the surrounding thicket of third world.

Our first stop was our hotel, which obviously also housed a jewelry store, karaoke bar and pool hall. After checking in, we then got back on the bus and headed to a nearby village that Huyen either once grew up in, or her parents lived in now. There we had a kind of pre-wedding reception, which included a series of pivotal Vietnamese ceremonies. The first involved me and four other of Ben's single male friends, and we had to exchange gifts and "lucky" money with five of Huyen's single female friends. The gifts were bought for us to give, and they included traditional Vietnamese items like booze, candy, and cartons of cigarettes. They in turn gave us "lucky" money, which we have to keep and never spend for our entire lives, or else we'll get bad luck with relationships. I'm assuming the reason my love life has been such shit for the last 32 years has been because I never got my lucky money, and am kinda pissed at Ben for not holding this wedding waaaay sooner. Thank god that's all in the past now! After our exchange, there was something that involved Ben asking Huyen's father for permission to marry his daughter, and since this was less than 24 hours before the already planned and paid for wedding, Ben was obviously fairly concerned what would happen if he said no. Luckily, Huyen's dad agreed, (he's a really cool guy) and then we had an amazing dinner on the roof of the house where the wedding took place, all of which was washed down with shot after shot of homemade rice wine. Huyen's dad assured us we would not get a hang over because it contained ginseng, which many of Ben's guests seemed to be unfortunately immune from the next morning. That was followed by the traditional Vietnamese super-happy-dance-funtime-techno-karaoke-disco ceremony, which seemed to be completely taken over by the American guests. While the white folk were singing "I Just Called to Say I Love You," the Vietnamese were out back no more than 20 feet away slaughtering chickens for tomorrow's wedding lunch. Somehow, Mark Morgan got roped into plucking feathers off of them. Later that night, we got back to the hotel and went to the karaoke bar below with Mark and my mom, and followed that up with some late night street pho and grilled chicken feet.

Ben and many of the guests in the hotel were hoping to get in some sleep that night before the wedding, but we found out the hard way that just outside our windows was a loudspeaker attached to a telephone pole that conveniently doled out loud Communist propaganda slogans (or something) in Vietnamese. Ben's cousin later claimed that Ben screamed "Ho Chi Minh, shut the fuck up!" from his room, but it seemed that this was information, regardless if true or not, that's best kept hush hush around the locals. The wedding itself took place in the same house as before, but the fact that it started at 10 in the morning didn't mean we had go easy on the rice wine. It definitely had that moonshine taste, but it was still pretty damn good, and since I miraculously didn't have a hang over, (maybe there's something to that ginseng) I definitely threw back a few with some of Huyen's side of the family. The wedding ceremony apparently more Westernized than usual, although Ben and Huyen's parents still used the traditional method of speaking at a Vietnamese wedding, which was through a microphone plugged into a karaoke machine with the monster-truck echo effect on. And while Ben and Huyen engaged in the Jewish tradition of breaking a glass on the floor to end the wedding, the ceremony started with the Vietnamese tradition of kick-ass entrance music, with Huyen and Ben walking down the aisle to a blaring song that sounded almost exactly like the Final Countdown, except more techno-y . It's crazy how unintentionally hip Vietnam can be, since I'm sure there was a wedding in Silverlake happening at the same time that probably did the same exact thing.

Soon after Ben and Huyen officially ceased their unholy life in unmarried sin, we began the next leg of the wedding, a 3 day trek to a remote Vietnamese village. After some shuffling of guests, we finally boarded our tourist bus and headed out again. At 32, I can say I saw my very first legit dead body on the street, a guy who had obviously just been in a horrific motorbike accident. At a distance, he looked like he was just laying in the road, but the look of horror on the faces of onlooking residents, and the fact he wasn't moving at all, made it clear this wasn't pretty. Ben had tried to calmly tell everyone not to look, advise I kinda wished I listened to. His head was flattened like pancake, and brains were spread all about the road, looking like dusty ground pork. Later that night, someone mentioned him, and to cleanse the palate, everyone decided to raise a glass to "that guy." The way the Vietnamese drive, I'm shocked you don't see more accidents like that, and you hope people here start to make changes in the way they look at safety.

We stayed at a hotel in Nimh Binh, a city west of Hanoi. We first checked out Hoa Lu, the remains of the ancient capital of Vietnam. Not much to see, it was filled with extremely aggressive locals hawking crap. One of the mainstays of most tourist spots in Vietnam is this army of locals who carry around low end Nikon DSLR cameras, and try to sell you poorly framed photos of yourself. Most will not bother if they see that you have a camera, but some think, hey, what's the harm in trying. The whole tourist hawking industry seems to hold the adage that there is no behavior too annoying, and that closer you hold a product to someone's face, the more likely they will buy it. At Hao Lu, an Australian couple, Simon and Claire, decided to buy a water from a woman selling various things she carried on her in a small bag. Big mistake, as this suddenly attracted about a half dozen other middle age women, all squealing at them to buy water and peanuts and whatever they happened to be holding in their hands at that time. When Claire took out her wallet and began to count out money for the water, three woman just dove their hands in there and started grabbing at bills. Her husband Simon and Justin, Ben's cousin, started to pull the woman away, and Simon, who looks almost exactly like Colin Firth in A Single Man started to get loud. The whole scene was pretty hairy, but luckily no one lost any Dong, and Claire got her water (I think)

The hotel in Nimh Binh was pretty swanky. They had four stars on their sign, but not quite sure if that was an official rating, or just a nice decorative touch. Either way, it was called the Legend Hotel, brand new, big and empty, just the way I like 'em. We spent a night on the town having goat hot-pot, or lau de, and washed that down with some Tiger beers. The next morning we headed out to an area near Tam Cac, which is where I went last year. This place was I think was called Ho Dong Chuong. It recently opened, and seemed better than Tam Cac, with the same premise; a giant inland lake with massive round cliffs poking out; the whole area being dubbed an inland Halong Bay. Unlike the last time we went, the guy rowing our boat used his feet to work the oars, and even let my Friend J.R. take the reins. With him rowing in the back, and me and mom using auxiliary oars we found at our feet, we got nowhere fast, and our Vietnamese guide had to take over to get us going. We were winded after about 15 minutes, while this motherfucker rowed for two hours without breaking a sweat, although to be fair, he was able to change up to feet or hands when he wanted. After that, we headed to this giant series of Buddhist Poagadas that was in the process of being built called Bai Dinh. It got a little hairy when Ben's mom had decided that we got lost for some reason, and did what any sensible person would do when lost in a foreign country and visiting a holy site, started yelling "Help!" at the top of her lungs. (*Update; I based this story on hearsay, and it may not have actually happened) Ironically, me, my mom and Justin ended separating from the pack later and did get lost, but I found that this gave us advantage of being able to take in some of the architecture and landscape without a barrage of talking that goes with any large tour group. This was especially true in Ho Dong Chuong, where falling behind when J.R. tried to row allowed us briefly take in the whole area, alone, with sounds of nature echoing throughout the jungle-ed hills.