Send My Mail Here- On the Road Part 5

My little road trip around the south eastern tip of Vietnam ended where many things end, Saigon.  I spent much of my time in Saigon searching for a special kind of sandwich.  I'm not even going to pretend that I'm doing big important things here.  I have no delusions of grandeur as far as my self importance goes.  We ended our trip eating kobe beef and sea urchin at a Japanese restaurant in district six.  We knew the chef so we downed a bottle of saki and a few beers together, and then we made our way home.  It was another night of eating and drinking well with great company.  That's more than good enough for me.

The restaurant was part of some resort built on the grounds of an old French villa along the Saigon river.

Writing this entry made me think of this song:

"With Tennesee Sour mash Whiskey on my Breath,

And Rosalee, Suzie and and Lucy on my mind,

I drove my old car down the dusty streets of this old border town.

But I never thought I'd get stuck here such a long long time.

I've got a million-dollar bill but they can't change it.

And they won't let me leave until my tab is paid,

So I might as well settle down

And buy the house another round.

Send my mail to the Rosarita Beach Cafe.

It was one of those hot dry dime-a-dozen Mexicali days,

When I fell through the doors of the Rosarita Beach Cafe.

And I got myself a table with a view of the breakers on the bay

And another cold Dos Equis on the way."

Warren Zevon, "The Rosarita Beach Cafe"

Ugly Shirt

I bought this shirt off some women selling dress shirts on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.  I think it was prudent financial decision.

(detail of the flower print below)

I can't tell if this is a woman's shirt or not.  Nobody seems to care here either way.

What it Means to Have an Address- On the Road Part 4

I have an address, sort of.  It's the address of the university and actually doesn't apply to where I live.  Taxi drivers never know where my building is since I am not on the main part of campus.  I pick up my mail from a box, with a lot of other boxes around it.  I have a box which I share with all the other foreign teachers at Da Lat.  This is not an address, I suppose.    Te Chung the professor from San Francisco who brought Tony and myself on this journey did so to inspect a home he is building for himself in Phan Tiet.  I look at this house as a reward for a lifetime of teaching.  Then I begin to think and wonder if at the end of my career I'll have earned something like such as this home.  I'm not sure that even I were to own a house here that I would feel at home.  I'm a visitor here.  I don't speak the language.  I don't know the customs.  I'm just another American expat pretending to be something resembling Fitzgerald's "lost generation," save for replacing post war France for the far east.  I'm not sure if I'd feel at home in this house, or in any other house abroad.  I can live abroad, I can live and adapt to most places, but I can't make a home abroad.  I think I'm stuck as an American.

View from between two cafes in Phan Tiet.

Vietnam is long and slender and has many serene beaches such as this one just south of Phan Tiet.

Bitter Melon and Chicken Roti in Phan Rang- On the Road Part 3

Phan Rang is a small coastal city which is located a few hours away from Da Lat.  As you approach Phan Rang the countryside appears to go through a change.  The lush greens of most everywhere in Vietnam turn into sandy wind blown desert with rocky outcrops, scrub brush, and cacti.  Our stop in Phan Rang was brief.  We stopped to eat at a small corner restaurant which served us chicken roti and bitter melon soup.  The bitter melon is gross.  It is really tough to eat and one of the few foods I don't like in Vietnam.  Chicken roti is rice and spicy fried chicken Vietnamese style.  The city is small and we were in an out of it quickly and off into the desert.

These region in Vietnam was at the heart of the Champa kingdom.  The Cham are an ethnic minority in Vietnam now, but at one point ruled the southern coast.  Their kingdom began to solidify in the 2nd century AD and lasted into 18th century, with its height being the 11th and 12th century.  What is unique about the Cham is their precipitous fall from power and their belief in the Hindu religion.  The south eastern coast of Vietnam is dotted with Cham towers exhibiting medieval Hindu art.  The Cham kingdom for centuries was a stop for merchants travelling and sailing along the spice route.  Columbus could have stopped in Phan Rang had he gone in the right direction.

On our way we made a short pit stop to inspect an old railroad bridge and interview some locals.

Bun Bo Hue

Bun Bo Hue is one of my favorite foods and I probably eat it every other day or so.  I usually go down to a little family owned shop on Bui Thi Xuan (pronounced similar to "booty swan").  I go there often enough that they no longer ask me what I want, they just assume it's Bun Bo Hue and a Saigon beer.  The soup starts with a broth that sits simmering all day long in large cauldrons.  It is flavored with a mix of spices and herbs, and because it is from the city of Hue it is usually made very spicy.  To make it one starts with a bowl of rice noodles, then adds cuts of beef, chives, pepper, and a hunk of liver.  Add to this the broth that has been simmering all day for however long a family has been handing down their recipe.  After this it is up to the patron to decide how to finish off their meal.  I usually add shredded lettuce, some fermented red pepper, and a bit of lime juice.  It's designed to be a full meal in a bowl, carbs, veggies, and meat altogether.  This cost me about 15,000VND, less than a dollar.  This is dinner most nights.

"Ocean in view! O! The Joy!"- On the Road Part 2

The road bends through small mountain towns and minority villages.  We stop to take pictures, and the people look and gaze at the travelers.  I can't tell if they're staring because were obviously Americans well off the beaten path or if it's because I'm wearing my ridiculous flower shirt.  From Da Lat there was short drop down, but now we have to journey upwards to crest the mountain and gain full view of the valley ahead of us.  At a bend that juts out over the declining vale sits a small Buddhist shrine.  The shrine was far from people and empty when we arrived.  From the carved mound which it sat adjacent to, one could see the whole of the valley from the road hence we came to the windy Pacific ocean.  I could see all of the coast and how far we still had to go to Phan Rang.  I understood why their had been a shrine here always.

Street Scenes, Da Lat

Picking Flowers and Onions- Road Trip Part 1

"Why think about that when all the golden land's ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you make you glad you're alive to see?" -Jack Kerouac, On the Road.

Any road going to or exiting Da Lat involves a journey through the mountainous countryside.  We started off the morning with a quick breakfast of noodles mixed with seafood and pork, and with full bellies we journeyed out on highway 20.  I sat in the cool comfortable back of a Ford SUV carefree in not having to drive.  Instead my only duties were to observe and participate in the intermittent conversation.  It was a Monday morning.  We were surrounded by life, constant life, small family farms, lush forest and jungle trees, people here and there working and relaxing, and always the effervescent sun.  We got off the highway on to some back road in a minority area of Lam Dong.

There were four of us.  Myself, Tony, and Tony's former professor from San Francisco State University, and a driver all rode in a Ford.  Tony works with me.  He from California and is Viet Kieu.  It was his professor's trip, and we both referred to him as Te or teacher, and that's what he was for much of the trip.  He videotaped, he interviewed, and he taught us about this foreign land.  Our driver, who was very cartoonish, had to stop to ask directions every time we turned on to a new road.  When I say cartoonish, I mean smoking constantly, raising his shirt to scratch his stomach at every stop, and seemingly angering every waitress and waiter we encounter by his loud yet brusque manner.  Our goal, beyond travel, was to film the everyday lives of the people that populate this country.  Our first stop was a small farm in the shadow of the mountains that cradle Da Lat.  They were harvesting chives on a 40 by 40 plot.  The young woman we met was a migrant worker from the north.  She couldn't have been more than a young twenty.  Her pay was about 2/3 of what I make in a month as a volunteer at the university, a decent salary.  She was talkative and in good spirits.  The reality of the situation is Vietnam is a country of 80 million and while their economy is booming this good fortune does not extend to everyone.  Vietnam has every man's dream problem, a surplus of young women, but not enough employment and money for the lot of them.  Many leave crowded homes to find enough work to support their simple lives.  I wondered how it was possible for her to do this on her pay, but I figure that was only because most Americans have no concept of the simple life.  I am as guilty as anyone of this claim.  She seemed happy.

Our second stop was at small coffee shop in a secluded mountain town.  Cafe Sua Da for everyone, iced coffee with milk.  Next to the coffee shop was a women selling dress shirts by the side of the road.  Thirty thousand VND a piece, under two dollars.  We picked through and my friend Tony found the one shirt that did not belong.  It was some sort of flowered patterned button down from the 70's or whenever those things were in style.  It'd probably been in that pile forever.  I'm not even sure it's man's shirt.  He insisted I buy it.  I said absolutely not.  I bought it and wore it until we reached Saigon.

New Year's 2010

I welcomed in the new year sipping vodka tonics in Nha Trang with a group of Canadians from Vancouver. Early in the day we took about an hour long trip outside of Nha Trang to a quiet and secluded beach in the countryside.  We ate fresh seafood enjoyed the beauty of living in the tropics.  We started the night off with an "expensive" gourmet dinner for everyone.  It cost under $20.  Dinner costs me an average of about a dollar.  There were dragon dancers, champagne, and sword swallowing (which horrified me).  I think all told there were about thirty or so of us partying together, most of them from Vancouver.  We then moved to a bar called Guava, owned by one of the Canadians, and started the party.  It was a little weird ringing in the New Year with almost total strangers, but everyone was cool and I make fast friends.  It was an interesting mix of backgrounds, but it worked.  It also helped that I was partying with the owners of Guava and they were very cool and inviting.  I ended the night on the beach watching the waves roll in.