I'm back near the beginning. Standing at the same Samsung free internet service I posted from more than a month ago at the Hong Kong Airport. This time, however, I have Steph with me, a bag full of new clothes, a bit of a rapidly fading tan, a nearly full digital camera, and a head full of Asian memories.

In some ways I wish I had another three weeks but in others, I am happy to be heading home. I miss everyone there and having a normal life, one where I am not living out of a bag and eating mysterious food at every meal.

Hong Kong was great. Wonderful city. I'm quite sure I'll back, hopefully soon. The next Asia trip will involve Shanghai, Beijing and all of Japan... Hopefully soon.

Thanks to everyone for following along. Hope you enjoyed. See you all soon...

R*

Hong Kong is a humid, awesome, Asian version of NYC. Arrived here yesterday with a knot of excitement in my stomach in anticipation of seeing Steph. She picked me up at the airport and there is no way I can express just how amazing it was to see her. She was even more beautiful than I remembered and stood calmly in the scrum of families waiting to pick up loved ones as I passed through customs and picked up my bag. Taking the new train into the city, we began our much needed reconnection. I was so totally happy to be with her again.

As I was checking in to the hotel, she said something to the front desk clerk in Cantonese and next thing I knew, I had been upgraded to a harborview room. It's tiny, almost humorously so, but clean and modern with a KILLER view of Kowloon. After, uh, ahem, you know, we went out for dinner to a fabulous sushi restaurant. Without doubt, this was the best sushi I have ever had. In fact, it is quite possible that the hundreds of other times in my life when I thought I was eating sushi was in fact something else entirely because the food last night was so totally superior. Holy crap, that was amazing fish. Wow. After dinner we went to the Excelsior Hotel and watched the house band for a few hours while we cuddled up on a swank couch in a dim corner. It was a fabulous and much needed reunion.

Today she picked me up at my hotel around 10:00 (she's staying at her dad's place nearby) and took a long trip to see the Big Buddha somehere, uh, out there. It was a foggy, cloudy day (as apparently everyday here has been for weeks) and the giant Buddha sculpture kept appearing and disappearing in the mist. Made for some beautiful photographs, actually. We arrived back downtown just in time to get changed and go for dinner with her father, Ricky, and his wife. Ricky is a very sweet man and because he works in the music industry, he knows more about Pop music than just about anyone I've ever met. Dinner was in a steak restaurant and Steph paid as it was her birthday present to her dad. Good food, good company, good times. I like him and am looking forward to speaking to him more tomorrow night when the rest of his family here are taking us all out for a traditional Chinese Banquets, 12-course style. Assuming the food tomorrow will be as remarkable as everything else I have eaten here so far, should be amazing.

Gotta get to bed as I am exhausted. Sorry for not writing more in the last couple of days, it was impossible to get to a computer.

Looking forward to seeing everyone back home soon...

R*

These last few days in Ho Chi Minh City have been calm and relaxing. Hanging like a local. I stayed at Marc and Linh's apartment for a few days but moved to a hotel as they have other guests arriving today, as was planned before they offered their place to me. I bought them a nice bottle of wine to thank them for their amazing hospitality and moved to Saigon Bi Hotel, the same place I stayed at last week before I went to Hoi An. I'll still be hanging out with Marc and his crew, I'm sure. We have tickets for a big party at Apocalypse, the nightclub Linh loves. We've been there four times already and I'm happy to go back. Good times.

Last night, Phuong, a friend of Marc's friend Catherine, came over and cut my hair again. It's really short now, but she did a great job and fixed the disaster from earlier in the week. Apparently the back of my head looked like I was a monk. Not sure what that meant but it is fixed now. After the cut, we went to try to see Mission Impossible 3 (way cheaper to see films here than in Canada) but we didn't make it in time and wound up scooter joy riding all over the city and then hitting a couple more nightclubs (how many nightclubs can there possibly be in a city???). "America" was a fun place that played the kind of progressive house music I like. I felt a bit underdressed in my jeans, sleeveless shirt and run-down running shoes, but I felt like a bit of a celebrity there as I was one of very few white people, definitely the only blonde, and people stared at me the whole time I was there. Even the bouncers (quite literally less than half the size of bouncers in Toronto) gave me special attention. They shook my hand when I walked in, introducing themselves as they found us a table in the middle of the club where everyone could see us. It was a trip. Wish I got this kind of treatment and attention in Toronto.

I realize I have not mentioned much about the food. The Thai food was fantastic. More or less what you'd expect. Always good, usually with rice or noodles, pretty cheap, and full of flavor. Can't go wrong except when you forget to tell them not to make it too spicey. Double burn. The Cambodian food was a tasty mix of Thai and Indian, but it played evil tricks with my stomach and I ate mostly Western food there, in Western-owned cafes. The Vietnamese food has been absolutely amazing. I've been lucky to have Vietnamese people with me at almost every meal and they've done the restaurant picking and ordering. The food here is totally amazing. My stomach has been dealing with it perfectly well and the flavors are astonishing. The best part is the price. We've been going to very nice restaurants, eating huge feasts and drinking beers and fresh squeezed fruit juices, and the meal is never more than $4 a piece. The same feast in an equivalent restaurant in Toronto would be at least $50. I love it. For breakfast we go for "pho" which comes out to about $0.80 for a hearty noodle soup with fresh veggies and beef. Seems weird to eat hot soup for breakfast in a sweltering hot country, but it makes a lot of sense when you do it.

Just hanging out for the rest of the day. I've spent a lot of money on clothes and gifts but the prices are so great that I may spend even more just to save me from doing the same in Toronto for a long time. Anyone want anything in particular? I've already picked up some amazing gifts. I think Linds and Tim are gonna LOVE theirs (I know it is good because I want it and am already jealous I am giving it to them!).

Over and out,

R*

Recovering this morning from a very fun night out last night with Marc Djandji and his fiancee and their friends. As I think I've mentioned before, Marc is the brother of my friend from Rotman, Pat, and he lives here and works for an investment firm. He's got a great thing going. They invited me to stay at their place for a few days and we all went out shortly after I arrived from Hoi An.

While we waited for Lyn, Marc's fiancee, to get ready, he took me for a wild ride on his Minsk, a Cold War era 2-stroke motorcycle. A smoking bucket of bolts, the machine is loud and fun. Marc has affection for old stinking motorbikes and has a 30 year old Vespa as well. We toured around the central district of HCM City. I clung onto the back for dear life. Loved it.

We met Lyn and her friend at Apocalypse, the same nightclub we had been to when I was here last week. After we all had a drink we intended to move on to the next location but Lyn and Marc still had their bikes and we intended to drink. I suggested Lyn stay at the bar with her friends and that I'd drive her bike and Marc bring his and we'd return them to their home then cab back. They liked the idea and next thing I knew I was zoomzooming through the traffic insanity of Saigon. Again, I loved it. The intersections are complete madness but it all works somehow. Just getting around in this city is a blast.

We popped from club to club after dropping off the motorbikes. It was all a blur as the beers went down smoothly. I met a number of their friends, all of whom are nice. Some are expats, some are natives. At the end of the night we ate Pho (and they taught me how to pronounce it). Unfortunately, Marc and Lyn had run out of drinking water at their house so I couldn't wash away the drunk before I fell asleep. Hence, my hangover this morning.

It's pouring rain but as soon as it stops, I'm gonna tour around the city with Lyn and some of her friends. Getting the HCMC experience, learning what it is like to live here a little bit. Great place...

R*

My hair has been a ridiculous mess for days. I've been trying to find a decent place to get a haircut but that has been more or less impossible as they do not exist in any obvious way. Today I finally just bit the bullet and walked into a supershady salon. There were a number of signs that should have warned me away:
* no front wall to the salon. Scooter fumes and noise...
* hair products on the shelf from the 1970s
* a line of ants walking along the walls
* $2 price quote
* no lights on in the salon
* no music on in the salon
* the hairstylist also sells bus tickets to nearby towns
* the hairclippers he used had to be oiled before they would work
* scissors that were so rusty I could hear the gunk between the blades
I could go on. Somehow, I wound up letting the guy give me a straight blade shave as well. He didn't cut me, and I did need a shave, but it hurt and was not smooth in anyway. No blood. All in all, the haircut was not that bad. It was worth at least $4.

It is hot as sin here. The strangest part is the way the young Vietnamese women cover themselves up. Even though it is blisteringly sunny and nearing 40 degrees, as they ride their bikes or scooters, they cover themselves completely. Hat, long gloves all the way up to their shoulders, cotton mask over their face, long pants, and, if they are wearing sandals, nylons to cover their feet. I have no idea if they are sweaty under all those clothes, but just the sight of them makes me feeling like I have heat stroke.

Yesterday afternoon was totally random. Many of the stores were closed for a festival. Apparently it is the "Half New Year" and also the last day of school. As I was eating lunch in a very cool cafe, the waiter sat down with me and started talking. He told me about the festival happening at the beach and asked if I was going. I had no idea there even was a beach. Next thing I knew, the restaurant was closing and all the staff, people in their 20s, were heading to the beach. The waiter, whose name was Dat (I think), invited me to go with him. I had nothing to do so I went along for the adventure. Unfortunately for me, this was the first time I did not have my camera with me. Nor any sunscreen...

We drove for about 15 minutes on his scooter through rural, non-tourist Vietnam. The road was only wide enough for scooters and ran alongside beautiful rice paddies. We arrived at his home where he changed his clothes and had lunch with his 5 brothers and sister and mom. They invited me to sit down and eat and, even though I had just eaten, I agreed and tried to eat more, though I was already stuffed. The food was delicious; pork and noodles in soup. There was jackfruit (yuck) and this weird gummy gel wrapped in banana leaves (kinda yuck). I tried everything and made my appreciation as clear as possible to those at the table. The whole time we ate, the family stared at me and clearly talked about me and my appearance. Dat and his sister were the only ones at the table who could speak English, but they did not translate much of it. I didn't mind, however. I was happy to be entertainment for the family. I was gaining from the experience as well.

After lunch, we all got onto scooters. For some reason, they insisted that I drive Dat's sister on one scooter. Dat and one brother got on another, and on the third scooter there were three brothers. We drove in a caravan towards the beach. As we got closer and closer, more and more people appeared. When we arrived at the beach, there were literally thousands of people around. I'm pretty sure I was the only white person within five miles and they all stared at me. The kids laughed, the girls smiled, and most of the guys either ignored me or glared at me with a vengeful look that reminded me of "The Deer Hunter". The strange part is that, from what I can tell, the Vietnamese hate the sun and don't really understand the way we value the beach. Though many of them went swimming in the ocean, they did so in all their clothes; jeans, hats, shoes, shirts... The whole thing was chaotic (like everthing in this country), fun, goodhearted, and strange. At one point, noticing that I was carrying my flipflops instead of wearing themon the sand as they all were, one of the brothers wanted to trade his pair with me. Of course, I agreed. They all got a kick out of that and laughed for five minutes, clearly making more jokes at my expense. I laughed along, laughing at them laughing at me.

We were only at the beach for about 15 minutes, less time than it took to get there, but I think the family went because it was the thing to do. Riding back to their home, I felt like I was with the cool kids. They all had a swagger and confidence that was charming and similar an attitude I've seen so many times at home. Dat drove me back to my hotel around 4:00 where I collapsed into my air conditioned room in a sun burned and sweaty mess.

Around 8:00 I went to visit my tailor. She had made an excellent shirt for me, cut exactly like the one I had brought from home. The quality was very nice. The tailor had passed the test so I ordered more clothes. She wanted to charge me an outrageous $180 for a suit made of the material I picked, but after an hour of negotiating, measuring, and material picking, she agreed to make me a suit (charcoal grey with pinstripes) and four more shirts (pink, black, blue, and a pattern) for $150. This is more than I've heard my friends pay here, but the quality is definitely high and, well, it's still only $150 for all that stuff. I go to try everything on in a few hours. If it is good, I am considering getting another suit. So tempting for the price. Of course, they have my measurements now, and know the style I like, so apparently I can order more from home and have the work sent to me...

Interesting post script: Seems that though I can still post articles to this blog, I can no longer access the actual blog myself. I've tried in a number of different internet cafes and keep getting the same result. However, I receive confirmation emails when you guys post comments, so I know you are able to view it. The only explanation I can think of is that the Vietnamese censors have somehow blocked my blog in Vietnam. I'm not sure why, as I am very pro-Vietnamese in everything I've written. I can't think of another reason why I can access the back end to make posts but not the front end to see what is being posted... This has been going on for two days now...

R*

My last day in Saigon, I got caught in a torrential rainstorm. To keep myself entertained, I shot some pics of the crazy scooterers as they flew by in the wetness.

Shooting an AK-47. G-Sus Kryst.


Shot these two this afternoon. This is the river that runs through Hoi An. Below are some sweet kids I hung out with for about 15 minutes. They laughed at my white (pink) skin, blue eyes, and hairy arms and loved seeing themselves in pictures. I've been hanging out with groups of kids all over Southeast Asia. The language barrier doesn't seem to be a problem with them.

Not much to report today. The flight from Ho Chi Minh City to Da Nang was delayed for an hour due to a mega thunderstorm. Surprisingly, they decided to take off before it was over and for the first 20 minutes of the flight, we experienced awful turbulence. There were a few instances when the Boeing 777 lost serious altitude, sending my stomach into my throat and causing a number of the passengers to scream in terror, but we passed through the clouds quickly and the rest of the trip was smooth.

I landed in Da Nang and arranged a car to drive me for an hour or so to Hoi An, a beautiful old French colonial town known for its tailors. On Demetri and Mary Beth's recommendation, I am staying at the Thanh Binh III Hotel. I am splurging, spending $16/night (after negotiating it down from $20). This is not only, by far, the nicest hotel I have stayed at on this trip, it is likely one of the nicer hotels I've ever stayed in. Built in an old and refurbished Chinese trader inn, there is an entire inner courtyard dominated by a wonderful pool. The staff are remarkably friendly and helpful, the service has so far been almost silly-good, and the architecture is beautiful. I'm enjoying it and will likely stay in this spot for the few days I am in this town. My room is huge with a queen sized bed and a single bed, a great marble bathroom with a huge bathtub and mood lighting, a balcony looking down onto a quiet street, cable TV and a/c. Really wishing Steph was with me, especially now...

Gonna go find some pho to eat and call it an early night. I have to find a tailor tomorrow (there are literally hundreds in this small town) and get fitted. They even make hand made shoes, in any style. Thinking of getting a custom made pair of Pumas...

R*

Took a tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels today with Demetri and his wife, Mary Beth. These tunnels are an hour outside of Ho Chi Minh and were a guerrilla stronghold during the American War. After the Americans started bombing the crap out of the area and using exfoliants like Agent Orange, the Vietcong went underground. Their tunnels are still accessible and after watching a hilarious black and white propaganda film from 1967 and visiting a number of vivid exhibits depicting the horribly painful traps they set for the American GIs, we crawled through about 100m of the incredibly tight tunnels. The Vietcong are not only smaller than Westerners, but as a result of the deforestation caused by the Americans, they were severly undernourished. The tunnels, therefore, were made for little tiny people. Crawling through was a trip.

Throughout the visit to the historical site, the sound of machine guns could be heard in the background. As we neared the end of the tour, we were asked if we wanted to shoot the guns. Well, Demetri and I were still feeling very manly after our scorpion eating escapade the evening before, so, hell ya, we shot the guns. For about $1 US per bullet, we shot a Kalashnikov AK-47. We each used 5 bullets. Mutherfucker, what a rush. First of all, I had no idea just how loud those things are. After the very first shot Demetri took, while I stood beside him videoing, my ears started to ring, even though I was wearing those construction site ear muffs. More impressive than the superhard pop sound was the blasting power of the gun in your hands. I have to admit that I totally and completely loved it. The power rush is not like anything I've ever experienced, no where close. BANG! BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!!! Now I want a Kalashnikov for Christmas.

We made it back to the city around noon and after a quick lunch I took Demetri and MB to the galleries that sell the painting copies. I bought a great copy of van Gogh's "Portrait of Dr. Gachet", my favorite van Gogh painting (and, as of a few years ago, the most expensive painting ever sold at auction). Not sure what they picked up. When I left they were deciding between some very nice Cezanne works. Apparently, Demetri proposed to her in front of a Cezanne, so they have a thing for the Frenchman.

Gonna plan my trip to Hoi Ann now and then meet up with the crew later. Perhaps I'll have a chance to post again today...

R*

First of all, Ho Chi Minh City rocks. Compared to that cesspit of sin called Bangkok, this is a terrifically beautiful and livable city. Apart from the insanity of the scooters, that is. The weather, though hot, is not nearly as unbearable as all the other places I've visited on this trip. The architecture is wonderful, there are parks everywhere, and the people are generally nice and mind their own business (except for the taxi touts who, I am told, harass everyone, not just the whities).

I set out early this morning and found myself at the national gallery of contemporary art. Impressive. I take back all my comments yesterday about the Vietnamese not having original ideas. Clearly I was looking in the wrong places. The museum was wonderful and I saw some amazing paintings. Lucky for me, there were four contemporary art galleries attached to the museum and I absolutely loved what I saw. Though a bit commercial for my tastes, I saw wonderful paintings by many of the best new crop of Vietnamese painters. In fact, I wound up having spontaneous meetings with the directors of three of the galleries and expressed interest in curating a show in Toronto of contemporary Vietnamese painting. I didn't promise anything, but I do definitely think a show could be viable given the quality of the work, the large size of the Vietnamese community in Toronto, my new connections, and the relatively cheap retail price of the excellent works. Many of these artists have shown in Europe and all over Asia, plus numerous artist monographs have been published, but most (or all) have never shown in North America. Hmmm... My mind was racing and we'll see if I can make anything of it.

Then I wandered over to the War Remnants Museum. I'm not going to get into this very much right now because it is late and I cannot do justice to my experience there. Suffice it to say that I have never been so happy NOT to be American. What a shame, what a smear on their history. The most remarkable part of the entire exhibition of American atrocities wrought on the Vietnamese is the fact that ALL of the evidence they use to present American aggression is taken directly from sourced American press. Though there is clearly some sort of propagandistic angle to the museum, it is hard to deny the evilness the Americans caused in this country. Very sad. For the first time on my entire trip, I was upset and depressed. I had to come straight home and lie down.

Of course, that passed. Around 7:15 I met up with Demetri, a great friend from Rotman, and his wife, Mary Beth (MB). They are staying with Marc, the brother of another friend of ours from Rotman. Marc works in HCMC and is engaged to a very nice Vietnamese girl. They took us out for dinner to a fun outdoor restaurant where we cooked our own food on mini BBQ's placed on the table. I am proud to admit that I ate scorpion tonight. Yup, scorpion. It was Demetri's call and I couldn't chicken out. The waiter took us to the back of the restaurant to show us the live scorpions in a tank. They were all black, 3 inches long, and ugly as the worst nightmare you have ever had. Ten minutes later, the waiter brought a plate of 5 cooked scorpions to the table. Lest you doubt my truthfulness, I have video to prove it. Very crispy/crunchy, the scorpions actually tasted kinda good. A little like crispy pork. I didn't even retch, though I admit I did not eat a whole one. Demetri, on the other hand, ate one and a half. His wife refused to even touch it. The strangest part was having 2 and a half uneaten scorpions on the table while we ate the rest of the meal. Demetri and I sang The Scorpions "Rock You Like a Hurricane!" and "Wind of Change", a song he credits with single-handedly bringing down the wall in Germany.

We walked around for a while then wound up at a very cool nightclub, packed with Vietcong hipsters. Sitting outside on the patio, Marc told us the story of how he visited SE Asia 3 years ago on a 3 month backpacker trip, then wound up staying in Ho Chi Minh where he works in finance for a startup investment bank. Totally fascinating. He loves it here, speaks more or less fluent Vietnamese now, and faces very exciting opportunities daily. I was very impressed, liked him a lot, and looking forward to hearing more of his tales tomorrow night.

Tomorrow off to see the Cu Chi tunnels the Vietcong used to evade the Americans. Demetri and MB are joining me. Should be claustrophobic fun.

R*

Holy crap. Saigon, er, Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC), is perhaps the wildest city ever. Certainly rivals Bangkok. The most awesomely retarded thing you notice right away are the scooters. They are *everywhere*. At every intersection, they wait by the hundreds, literally, for the light to change. Then like a river they zoom forward in a flood, honking and revving, exhaust fumes everywhere. Most of the time, intersections do not even have traffic lights and somehow oncoming traffic simply blends and swirls and roars and the scooters pass through to the otherside like poltergeists. Crossing the road is an acid trip. Luckily, I spent 5 years in NYC learning how to jay-walk and dodge traffic, so I feel I have the skills to cross the road when necessary. I admit, though, that sometimes I have no idea how to get across and I wait for a group of Vietcong pedestrians to lead the way.

Anyone want a painting? Store after store, famous paintings from world art history are copied in oil on canvas and the quality of many is surprisingly high. I spent much of this evening visiting "gallery" after gallery, flipping through the copies of works by Seurat, Monet, van Gogh, Picasso, ... I'm definitely going to buy a few as they are too awesome. They even make them on request, just provide an image. The whole copy/theft/plagarism industry in Asia confuses me. If I could paint that well, why wouldn't I make original works? Just not their culture, I suppose. This is not the land of original thinking.

My hotel is very sweet. Down a little laneway called Minihotel Alley, my room has an armful of charm. Though I don't have a window (and really, who needs a window?) I do have a fake tree growing out of the wall (plagarism again), cable TV, blessed air conditioning, and a very clean bathroom. Oh yeah, and free internet in the restaurant. Oh! The food! Awesome! I had a beef Pho for lunch and it rocked. I even ate the beef tripe and loved it.

Anyway, meeting Dimitri and his wife tomorrow for dinner, hopefully. That'll be goodtimes. Going to continue my wandering during the day with the only specific destination The Museum of American Atrocities, now called the Museum of the American War.

Going to bed...

R*