have no fear, the camera's here

Filming on Wednesday for VTV6's "All Connect" went pretty smoothly, taking only a little over 2 hours. Television is television, so if any of us got really flustered or stuck on a question, all we had to do was pause, recollect ourselves, and start over, thanks to the beauty of editing.

Team G-Unit: me, Dave, and Zeo (from left to right).

Our opposing team, G-Not: Christopher (who actually always dresses like that), Bibi, and Phil.

As for tonight: I'm going to the Brazil v. Viet Nam football game!

that's culturally insensitive

Shopping for gangsta clothing in Viet Nam is quite the trip. Not only is "hip hop" synonymous to "skater" here, but b-girls (the closest thing I've found so far to the image I was going for in my mind) generally either dress 1) exactly like boys, 2) super clubby (which I cannot appear on national television wearing), 3) super cutesy, 4) like Avril Lavigne, or 5) like a warped version of Euro gone 80's. Furthermore, the concept of baggy does not seem to exist for the majority of men.

Needless to say, my 3-hour long search to find something that'd make me look like I could bust a cap in your ass was a total failure.

But I did learn one great lesson: apparently, illegal parking in Viet Nam does exist. Who knew?

Dave and I sure didn't.

We were just coming back from wandering the Old Quarter (after purchasing a fabulous red doo-rag for him), when we realized that his motorbike was no longer where we had parked it. We walked down the street, thinking that maybe somebody had moved it, but soon came back to ask a shopkeeper if he had seen what had happened to the motorbike. The man spoke no English, and, after we had mimed "motorbike" to him, only said, "Police!" a bunch of times. We didn't know if he was trying to tell us to report the missing motorbike to the police or that the police had taken it.

We decided to walk down an adjacent street when we saw it: Dave's motorbike, parked in front of a yellow building. We figured we'd found the police station.

There was one desk inside with two men in green uniforms who, true to our luck, did not know any English except to say, "You sit. You wait." We didn't know what we were waiting for and our efforts to ask "Who?" and "Why?" were futile, so we got some water and then hung around as the two police officers laughed with each other, speaking rapid Vietnamese and grinning at us.

About five minutes later, a big van pulls up and about 5 more policemen came inside. They asked a few questions to the two sitting policemen and, after hearing whatever the answer was, started laughing and talking to themselves. Dave and I decided at this point that they had to be messing with us because they looked too happy not to be. The policemen all started asking us, "Where you from?" and, after hearing we were from America, one of them showed us a tattoo he had on his chest of the Statue of Liberty.

Then, all of a sudden, one of the policemen turned serious, said something in Vietnamese really quickly, reached over to Dave, lifted up his shirt, and then lifted up his pants, which had been sagging (though he was wearing a belt).

"Vietnam. Up! Good," he said, as he gave us the thumbs up sign and indicated that Dave should tighten his belt.

I can only imagine what they would have said to us if Dave had been wearing his doo-rag.

too much silence can be misleading

I'm back in good ol' Hanoi, in the polluted air, constantly honking traffic, and my old room at the guesthouse where the water pressure never really makes it to the top floor, where there is no elevator (or shower curtain, for that matter), where the only two breakfast options are bread or pho, and honestly it feels great.

Not that I didn't have a complete and absolute blast on the tour of Central Viet Nam that we took this past week. Because I absolutely did, even though I've never been so scarred by bathrooms in my life (you are my hero, inventor of Purell) and I don't think I've woken up before 7 am for that many days in a row since... high school. During the week, we trekked through the mountains and rice paddies; got caught in the rain; slept in a communal house in a village for one night (and got woken up at about 5 am by roosters); saw the My Son temples; and rented cyclos in Hue (not just to ride, but also to drive and race around the city in oncoming traffic -- with a quick stop to get sugar cane juice, freshly squeezed, of course). I also got 2 dresses and a complete suit fitted and made for me in Hoi An (known as the tailoring capital of the nation); almost hit a motorbike while riding a bike at night in Hoi An (which really is quite pathetic because traffic there is absolutely tame in comparison to traffic in Hanoi); got my fortune told (twice); took about 500 pictures; and spent what feels like a lifetime's worth of time on a bus, bumping along from Hue to Hoi An to Da Nang to Kon Tum.

(And I don't even want to think about how many grammatical errors, run-on sentences, and comma splices just happened in that above paragraph.)

But of all the family-style dinners we had (and we had them every night), the one that stands out in my mind does so because of a reason more somber than our divide-and-conquer eating style or our ongoing game of anywhere-anytime charades.

To be brief (because I hate writing about things I wish had never happened): we were just finishing up our dinner at Banana Leaves in Hoi An, when Professor Harms stood up to say that he had just received a phone call telling us that one of our program coordinators, Hiliary, had been killed in a car accident in Portland, Oregon.

I remember thinking as he was talking that he must be joking. But then Alex just looked at me and said, "Why would he joke about this?" And it really sunk in.

I'll never forget the looks on everyone's faces, the silence that followed, the untouched fruit that came to the table, Jack Johnson's "No Other Way" playing in the background.

Thanks, Hiliary, for sharing with us your love for Viet Nam, for making Hanoi feel a little more like home, and for always being a smiling face.

my life as a sitcom

I cannot believe this conversation just happened:

Her: i need to chug my coffee before i go to lab

Me: i need to chug a coffee before i go to the club

Her: this is such a bad idea

Me: this is such a bad idea
Her: i love how we think the same

In my defense, we're in different time zones.

sprichst du englisch

I need to stop speaking English loudly in quiet places, assuming that people won't understand what I'm saying.

Yesterday, Phil, Thu, and I went to dinner next door at Kaiser Kaffee, when a group of about five 30 and 40-something year old Vietnamese men came in and sat down at the table across from us, all of them in white button-down dress shirts ("white collar" is apparently taken quite literally here). They ordered a minikeg of imported German beer, hot dogs, and cigarettes for their table. I commented to Phil about how I loved Asian bossmen getting drunk after work.

I noticed a few of them staring over at our table several times -- and you could definitely tell that they were talking about us -- when, just as we had our plates cleared, the waitress came over with three empty beer glasses and told us that the Asian bossmen wanted to invite us to join them. The men immediately came over to fill up our mugs with beer, cheers were said all around, and introductions were made. Turns out, not only were they all fluent in English, but two of them were actually working in London, and all of them were CEOs or some sort of managing director at major finance/investment banking firms. It also turns out that they were celebrating a birthday, which is why more and more Asian bossmen kept coming in the door to join the party. More cheers were said, extra food was ordered for our end of the table (though none of us ate any since we had just finished dinner), business cards and cell phone numbers were exchanged, and the Asian bossmen ended up paying for our meal as well.

Who needs college networking workshops when there are German-themed cafes next door?

we're either brilliant or really stupid

Clubbing on a Tuesday night?
Why not?

After our weekend escapades, Yushen mentioned that he wanted to go out again this week before we left for our tour of the Central Region and that sounded like a fine plan to me. The thing about Hanoi though is that you never really can make definite plans for a certain day or night because circumstances arise that are just beyond your control. I feel like my motto in Vietnam has pretty much become, "Just go with it." That or, "It could be worse."

I mean, being flexible builds character, right?

So our plan for last night was to meet at 7 pm to get dinner at Ngon (the Vietnamese word for "delicious") and then find a bar or club to go to from there.

Well, turns out, the DukeEngage group had already eaten at Ngon twice before (Dave had suggested it and I just hadn't recognize the name when he said it, though I had actually really liked the place when I went before and, you know, didn't have an order miscommunication), and the guys (yes, I was the only girl of all 6 of us DukeEngage girls that went) didn't want to eat there again, so we headed off in the direction of a dirty kitchen joint, only to find it closed. Next stop? Doner kebob (please note, "Doner" not "Donner"), literally a guy with a cart in an alleyway who carves off meat roasting on a spit and puts it in a baguette for you with sauce, chili, onions, and lettuce for only 15,000 dong (which is a little less than $1).

Before we could make our way over to the lake, though, it started to rain. And rain. And rain. And rain. A Vietnamese guy came over selling rain ponchos (talk about targeting your audience, but we didn't get any), and then it rained some more. By the time we got in a cab, several streets were flooded and we had gotten substantially wet.

So we went to the Dragon Fly bar.

Unfortunately for the bar owner and us, the roof had collapsed, causing the hookah room upstairs to be closed that night. But no matter, drinks were going 25,000 dong each (less than $2), and there was a pool table and a foozeball table, where Johnny, Phil, and I dominated for two games, and then got our asses kicked by one of the bartenders who knows too much foozeball strategy for his own good.

The rain finally had slowed down to a light drizzle by around 10 pm, so we walked back to the guesthouse. By that time, only four of us were still down for going out, so Dave and I rode his bike (with rain ponchos on!), while Yushen and Eliza took a cab.

We were almost at Solace when Dave and I realized that his back tire had gone flat. Luckily for us, motorbike culture in Hanoi is huge and there are motorbike taxis on every street corner with drivers who carry around bags of tools to fix motorbikes, pump tires, etc. We got help from a shirtless motorbike taxi man who had been huddled around a fire (which, in retrospect, makes no sense because 1) it's raining and 2) it's still really hot outside even at night). I'm still adjusting to how cheap labor is around here.

When we got to Solace, we found that, apart from some security guys playing pool and two Americans who insisted on showing Eliza and me pictures of them skateboarding, we were the only ones there.

And sadly the DJ was nowhere to be found about 98% of the night. A few Vietnamese trickled in -- including a group of men who were definitely high on something other than life -- along with a handful of foreigners, but we didn't recognize any more than probably 6 of the songs played and the rest were all generic hip hop/R&B songs that had been altered and messed with.

My night was made, though, by a little Vietnamese man who was an extremely exuberant dancer and who had a penchant for getting low.

That, and Eliza's "skeet skeet skeet" dance move.

where my party people at

So I'm basically stalking a DJ in Hanoi.

Let's just say that it's a small, small world, and even smaller when you're hanging out with expats in the city. The night before last, I went with two of the Vietnamese guy roommates to a bar called the Funky Buddha to meet up with some Vietnamese students (who all study abroad in the US or UK) that one of my good Vietnamese friends knows. Introductions and a Long Island iced tea later, and I learn that 1) a girl at the table named Hillary will be moving to my state starting next year to go to the same college that my ex from high school (along with a lot of other kids from my high school) went to (Small World Moment #1) and 2) one of the guys at the table was the very same guy who was wearing a "Blow job is better than no job" T-shirt on my 6:45 am flight from Bangkok to Hanoi (Small World Moment #2). Three Princeton kids and Dave (from Duke) come to the bar later, and we all head out to go to the Loo, a club near West Lake. Dave has an extra helmet, so I get to ride sidesaddle on his motorbike (I was wearing a miniskirt) as we zoom through Hanoi at night (easily the best way to see the city).

This is probably a good place for me to stop and give a quick course in Clubbing in Vietnam 101: the clubs pretty much look just like any Western club on the inside. There's usually a bar, tables around the dancefloor, etc. You don't have to pay cover to get in, but I guess it's kind of understood that you'll get a drink and most people get a table immediately upon arriving. The "good" music is pretty much straight up American hip hop, but some places also play techno, and the Loo played this "Happy Birthday" song randomly that's super poppy that I've heard around Hanoi (other songs played that are probably less often heard in American clubs also included: "Stop and Stare," "We Will Rock You," "The Reason," "She Will Be Loved," and more). The dancing is where Vietnamese club life differs from that in America. Grinding doesn't happen, and generally guys and girls dance near each other, but not together.

Anyway, the Loo has the reputation of being the best club in Hanoi, or so we've heard. It was shut down before by the government when it was named the Toilet (rumor is that this was because of "scandalous dancing"), but it just reopened under the name the Loo, and it was definitely a ton of fun. Although it's a lot smaller than I imagined, the music was great, even though Dave and I were the only ones who knew the Soulja Boy dance (and totally did it at the front of the dance floor when the song came on). 3 more kids from my program came, and we danced and screamed along to the songs until the place closed (oh yeah, another thing about clubs in Hanoi, they all generally close really early, like 12:30 at the latest, except for a few; and apparently there's the risk of the police showing up every once and a while to make sure they're closed on time, etc.). The owner of the Loo ended up treating us all to free tequila shots, which came in giant syringes. Totally gives new meaning to shots. He broke open the Chivas as well, and we ended up hanging out with them for about an hour after the place had officially closed.

Flash forward to last night, and Dave, me, and a couple kids from my program decided to check out the Green Mango bar after hanging out at the night market in the Old Quarter. Turns out, we got to Green Mango just at end of a Sex and the City showing, but we hung around for a little bit anyway. We noticed in front of us a group of girls surrounding this guy who had taken his shirt off and was wearing a black bow tie. Johnny and I made a deal that if the other guy he was with took off his shirt as well that we'd go and take a picture with them too.

He did. We got a picture.

Turns out the Black Bow Tie Guy was called Canadian Steve, a Canadian guy (obviously) who's here doing NGO work and who was actually auctioned off last night (I think he had to make out with whoever bought him).

We headed out, and the others went back to the guesthouse while Dave and I walked over to get his motorbike, and he mentioned Funky Buddha having a party last night as well so we went over to say hi to his friends real quick (Canadian Steve too had mentioned going to the Funky Buddha that night). When we got there though, the place seemed closed, so Dave took me to Solace, which is this really fun bar/club on the river. We got drinks, ran into a couple people from Dave's office, danced for a bit, etc. The place had a ton of young European and American expats, it seemed.

Dave and I were actually on our way out, when we run into his friend Laura outside. Laura lived two years in Bangkok, where I just was last weekend (Small World Moment #3) and next to her is Hillary from the Funky Buddha (Small World Moment #4). They were both also with a girl named Ellen who goes to college in New York and who Dave had met at a fashion show like 2 years ago (Honorary Small World Moment). She's dating the guy who's going to be reopening the Lighthouse bar, which I think got shut down by the government before too. It's kind of crazy how these places just close and then reopen constantly. Anyway, they convince us to go back and dance some more (I figured I'm already out past the 11 pm lock-up time for the guesthouse, so I'll have to wake up the guard guy anyway to get him to open the door for me), and on our way back in, we get stopped by none other than Canadian Steve (Small World Moment #5). We get inside and find Laura, Hillary, and everyone dancing with the owner of the Loo (Small World Moment #6), who (since I didn't describe him earlier) is this little Vietnamese guy with a shaved head and a tat on his lower neck. It was really fun, until all of a sudden the electricity cuts out the place goes totally black.

I figure that's my cue to head back to the guesthouse because I'm already starting to guilt trip about waking up the guard multiple times two nights in a row without advance notice, when I look over at the DJ booth and instantly recognize the (very cute) DJ from the Loo the night before last (Small World Moment #7).

I've decided that he's my lucky charm for a fun night out.

people watching in foreign places

Let's talk fashion.

Although I only got to spend three days in Bangkok, I was still struck by how different Thai fashion was from the Vietnamese fashion I'd seen so far, not just in the merchandise sold in the markets but also in street wear. Apart from the mere existence of a Bangkok street style already saying a lot in and of itself (I haven't particularly noticed one so far during my stay in Hanoi), the Vietnamese have an interesting sense of dressing conservative. Clothes here aren't low-cut, but they can come completely sheer, with girls going totally cookies 'n cream (when you wear a dark bra with a light, sheer top). Thai people more or less dressed pretty Western, and I definitely felt like I blended in a lot more (or maybe they're just way more used to tourists).

That said, when I say that Thai people dressed more Western, that doesn't mean they schlepped around in jeans and T-shirts like Americans do. In a previous post, I talked about the "all or nothing" make-up trend in Viet Nam, but in Bangkok (and this could just be because it is a major city), the women were definitely done over completely -- hair, nails, make up, everything.

A few general trends I noticed (as always, click to enlarge any photos): bright colors, especially as accents; flowing silhouettes; graphic tees; a punk vibe; asymmetrical/blunt/otherwise interesting haircuts; clashing patterns; big bags; and fun shoes.

Side note: the murse ("man purse") has also hit Asia. Hard.

going to san francisco with flowers in my hair

Shopping in southeast Asia is singlehandedly turning me into a flower child.

i now know how to say "black coffee" in thai

A day before the trip, I stumbled upon the NY Times article "36 Hours in Bangkok" and, of the 12 things they listed to do, we did or were in the area of seven of them. Not too shabby.

First off, Bangkok. Is. Beautiful.
No, seriously.
Beautiful.

We got there around noon on Saturday and left on a 6:45 am flight out on Tuesday. The city is really developed (it reminded me of Toronto, actually), has an excellent Sky Train system, a nice water ferry system that goes along the river, and incredible shopping, both in the night/street markets and at the upscale malls. I took about 660 pictures throughout the entire trip, not even exaggerating.

The first thing we did was take an hour-long long boat ride on the river that runs through the city.

The locals wave at you from the sides as you pass by.

Riding in tuk tuks is kind of like speeding around on the highway in a golf cart.

Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho. I had to wrap a silk scarf around my shoulders and my waist because I was not appropriately dressed to enter the temple.

A view of Bangkok at night from the Sky Train station.

Who needs malls when you have night markets? Everything in Bangkok is super cute, well-made, and cheap. Bargaining is also a whole lot easier too.

Pad Thai in Thailand!




The plaza between Siam Center and Siam Paragon, which are trendy and upscale, respectively.

Front row at the Calypso lady boy cabaret show.




The Kai-Jo Brothers play every Sunday at a bar near our guesthouse, we learned. They were straight up reggaeton.

We, of course, danced.

Dim sum in Chinatown.

Water ferries are my favorite.

Monks have their own special "space for monks" on the ferry.

We toured the Jim Thompson House, which was the home of the architect Jim Thompson, who was born in New York but moved to Thailand after he fell in love with the culture. He collected art and also helped establish the silk industry. Nobody knows what happened to Jim Thompson in the end because he disappeared while on a trip, but common theories include him getting killed by a tiger, getting kidnapped, and getting killed by a bus.


Dinner for our last night was at Cabbages & Condoms, a themed restaurant promoting safe sex.

Please note the "Democrat" and "Republican" options.

Night market in the Red Light District.

These men on the side would come up to you with their cards, which all listed the different show options for the night, and ask if you want a "sexy show" or "super pussy."


Our bus stop was by the Democracy Monument.

Tourist attractions in the night market near our guesthouse.

It was always a good idea at the time. (In my defense, I had an hour of sleep the night before.)

maybe that's why korean movies are so big here

"The most beautiful makeup for a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy."

- Yves Saint Laurent

In a conversation with some of the Vietnamese roommates a few days ago, we asked the boys to pick between dating an intelligent but ugly girl or a beautiful but stupid one. One of the Vietnamese guys responded very frankly, "The intelligent one."

"Why?" we asked.

"Because the intelligent girl can get plastic surgery. The stupid but beautiful girl can't do anything to make herself intelligent."

"But what if the intelligent girl doesn't want plastic surgery?"

"Then she's not actually intelligent."

The other day, my friend Yi linked me an article from the New York Times titled "Sans Makeup, S'il Vous Plaît," which praises the French, natural approach to make-up. It criticizes the overdone look that Americans tend to prefer, covering their faces with foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencil, lipstick, lipliner, blush, bronzer, and more. Not one little detail on the all-American face is overlooked and the result is something not so much beautiful as fake and plastic.

Without going into the cliche rant about accepting and embracing your body's flaws and faults, the article does make a good point about different standards of beauty and how make-up trends are reflective of them. The American obsession with self-perfecting starts at an early age, with glittery, sugary lipgloss substitutes becoming popular even before kindergarten (hi, Bonne Bell), Bath & Body Works dominating (and suffocating) the junior high girls' locker rooms, and fake and bake tans becoming the must-have pre-Spring Break accessory (because nobody wants to be the one pale person on the beach in Cancun, obvi).

From living and working in Hanoi, I've noticed that the Asian approach to make-up here is a strange blend of American and French, almost an "all or nothing" type policy. Although my workplace dress code is "business casual" (which is also possibly the vaguest term ever invented), women here don't normally wear make-up in the office. Most women rarely wear make-up in daily life either, which makes sense since 1) make-up is still a luxury good and 2) it's so hot that any make-up worn during the day would probably be sweated or melted off the face by noon. The nighttime club scene is more half-and-half split between the natural and the made up, but the general trend I've noticed seems to be that when make-up is worn, a lot is put on.

In a country obsessed with beauty pageants, the attention Americans heap on make-up products is instead shifted onto skin products in Asia. Case in point: it took me about 20 minutes at Intimex (the local, international superstore) to find the one brand of body lotion that did not contain skin-whitening product. While I spent the daytime hours of Spring Break 2008 laying out on the beach, the Asian female population here hides under umbrellas during the daytime, covers their faces with masks to hide from the sunlight (and all the air pollution), and lathers on the sunblock. The same story is true in China, where essentially tan skin implies that you work outside, which implies that you're doing manual labor, which implies that you're part of the working class.

At any rate, there have been so many studies done that show that more attractive individuals get better jobs, higher pay, and better treatment in society in general, that it's hard to write off beauty trends as just a stupid superficiality, although plastic surgery, as our Vietnamese friend mentioned, might be a bit extreme.

i blame all the hanoian air pollution

You know that thing everyone has that makes them super self-conscious? Some people don't like their teeth, so they smile with their mouth closed. Some don't like their toes, so they never wear flip flops.

I don't like wearing glasses.

Not only do I feel like supernerd when I wear glasses, but more so it drives me absolutely crazy how my black frames constantly slip down my nose, especially in hot, sweaty weather, causing me to feel like the only way I can see the world clearly is by literally tilting my nose up in the air continuously (it's fashion over function, seriously).

Unfortunately for me, I went to the SOS clinic nearby to get my wonky left eye checked out and, turns out, I have acute conjunctivitis, which, believe me, sounds so much worse than it actually is. What it means though is that I have to put in eye drops 3 times a day for four days -- and during those four days, I cannot wear contacts.

Guess where I'm going tomorrow morning?
BANGKOK, THAILAND.

Guess who's going to be supernerd in Bangkok, Thailand?
You're looking at her.