We took a walk after dinner and found ourselves on a street off the main road. The smooth wide black pavement gave way to narrow cobblestone pathways. Exhaust notes of cars and scooters succumbed to the buffeting aesthetic of the neighborhood. The air hung with peace and the evening breeze listened to the quiet conversations of the lining flats. It must have been around 9pm as the sun was finally starting to set. Walls once cream colored now radiated with a golden aura from the failing rays. As I looked up a large window on the 5th floor of the building to my right opened. A beautiful woman emerged with wavy brown hair that just barely rested on the straps of her vibrant green summer dress . She leaned out and called to a friend approaching from down the street. I couldn’t turn my head to see whom she was yelling out to. I was captivated at what was above me. This scene held my greatest attention. This woman, the colors, the sounds, the feel of the street, the touch of the cooling air. This is what the movies, the literature, and the nostalgic friends try to describe to you. I started up again down the street, made a left at the next main road, and continued my walk through Paris.
Finally got some internet 4 days into the trip. Lucky for all I’ve been jotting short handed notes into my mole skin (i.e. beer stinks, male flight attendants wtf all hot?) and snapping quick pictures with my phone. Once Mel uploads all her photos ( 4 cameras ) I can steal and write.
So..some pre-flight drink advice. If you ever find yourself at the Air France wing of LAX it would be wise to skip that beer at the Wolfgang Puck cafe. Or maybe ignore the tapped and get the bottle.
My pint of beer smelled like a wet dog. A wet dog if it was taking a shit. The beer tasted ok so I have to assume that it was the glass. I am further assuming that the bartender wiped each glass out of the wash down with the wet dog itself. Good thing I don’t believe in omens. However, salmonella is hard to ignore. I couldn’t finish it. Every time my nose breached the glass crown of the pint I wanted to vomit. Not wanting to take any chances on this 10 hour flight, I had my travel buddy Kristin K finish the beer. Cross your fingers!
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He opened up the throttle and the pair whipped passed our taxi. It was around 9pm and the bridge connecting the airport to Hanoi’s heart was littered with a only a few other vehicles. Without the collective mass plumes of exhaust or threat of collision from the vehicle hordes of regular hours; the duo left their bandanas off their mouths and stowed away their helmets. The girl wore her long curly hair untamed and let it dance over her dark brown leather jacket. She pressed her head against the boy’s back and held her eyes closed. He was hunched over the bike squaring his black leather shoulders to the handle bars. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration to the road ahead. I wondered if they were in a hurry going or leaving. I hope they make it.
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The eight of us sat hunched over on little plastic footstools surrounding only slightly larger plastic tables. This particular sidewalk restaurant specializes in hibachi style cooking. You’ll be hard pressed to find a food stand like this one (one of the many that post up on sidewalks around the city) that will offer you a menu. You sat down here because you saw what the previous patrons were eating and lucky for you you’ll get the same because that’s all they make. The owners gave us a casual once over, but stopped and stared at Hensel. Their gazes of concern ending at their rickety plastic chairs beneath the 6’5 240 pound bearded American. “We call him the bear,” I told them in Vietnamese. Nervous laughter in response. The father of this family run space helped Nik and Hensel start up their grill and slapped their hands away when they aimed for a piece of pork belly that was still under cooked. Now having the hang of it, he let the boys enjoy their meal and retreated to the background for a cigarette. An hour later we were happy, satisifed, and the last of his patrons. We each paid our $5, gave our thanks and rejoined the other walkers on the streets of Hanoi.
And my urine can only stay clear (meaning I am adequately hydrated) for a short period of time mainly because of these 2 reasons:
Hustlen. Errrday we straight hustlen, but not really.
Everything seems to be negotiable in Ho Chi Minh City. As a test to that my uncle took us around to 5 different hotels before he would let us choose one. We would go in and be pretty straight up about it. “We want to check out your rooms first and compare it to the others.” Once that was done you can begin negotiating prices. This works on all the 3 star and below joints ($30-$60 usd a night). However, for the 4-5 bougie joints such as the Park Hyatt Saigon or New World Hotel ($169-$260 a night, which is pretty cheap for those brands) you can’t really use that same method. BUT, someone always knows someone and there is always a hook up.
So where did we stay?
At a 1 star joint in District 1 that we got down to $35 a room. 1 star is deceiving. It just doesnt have a pool, breakfast, safety ect. This is what it looks like and you are correct in thinking that this place is haunted. O it is definitely haunted.
Just kidding that’s just an abandoned monastery.
Our hotel does seem kind of sketch in an oddly tamed way. It does have all the fixens you would need i.e. in room wifi and working a/c. You’re wondering why I haven’t posted a picture of it. The answer is I’m pretty sure it IS haunted. Haunted by the mournful spirits of ex-pats who didn’t find what they were looking for and offed themselves. Or maybe a vengeful Vietnamese hooker who was brutally murdered. Either way I don’t want to take a picture and then have an apparition appear in my flickr account. No thanks. There are freaky paintings scattered about which I refuse to take pics of. Maybe after I’m state side I’ll post the picture of the little doll girl staring at you from across the room directly at your bed in Hensel’s room. Chuang snapped that photo and I pray for his safety.
edit: alright Neighbhs here is the picture in Hensel’s room ! it’s on you now!
A quick post before we head out to find food.
Scooters. Nap time. Tavel time. Same thing!
Ho Chi Minh City
p.s. im positive my hotel is haunted.
Mos Dub -
Wonderfully summery reggae remixtape of Mos Def.