Grandather

My Vietnamese landlord is kind of like the grandpa I never had.  In fact I don’t actually know his name, either first or last.  I’ve always referred to him as “Grandfather”, which would be the Vietnamese greeting/address to one who is older than you.  Quick note about the Vietnamese language:  there are about 6 different pronouns to refer to people, depending upon their age and status.  Now, I speak minimal Vietnamese, but I understand the basics.  When you refer to someone, there’s 6 different ways to refer to them; male/female of a younger age or lower status than you (‘boy’/’girl’), male/female (different words gender dependant) of late 20’s/early 30’s approximately and/or someone of slightly higher social status (uncle/aunt approximately), male/female of middle age (father/mother approx.), and male/female of advanced age (grandfather/grandmother approx.).  So, I just always refer to my landlord as ‘grandfather’, partly because I don’t actually know his name and partly because I don’t know how to call him in a respectable way (calling someone by their first name may be offensive, I’m not too sure in this situation). 

Vietnamese society is very strongly influenced by Chinese Confucianism, which is a very hierarchical system of Superior/Inferior.  Aside, this is part of the reason I am not so much into Vietnamese culture, because it is super hierarchical, and I’m kind of an anarchist at heart.  Egalitie, Fraternitie, and Libertie never caught on here.

Anyway, back to Grandfather.  So, as best as I reckon, Grandfather is between 70-85.  With Asians, especially developing world Asians, it’s really hard to tell their age, partly because they stay very active until the day they die, and partly because their skin doesn’t show the ravages of age quite like our European skin does.  The night I moved into my new place, Grandfather poured me 3 teacups full of rice wine infused with severed and endangered Asian black bear paw.  Because if you eat/drink bear, you will be strong like a bear, according to the ancient wisdom/stupidity of  Traditional Chinese Medicine (the same medical tradition that brings us acupuncture and the extinction of the Asian Rhino because it’s horn will make the  penis more potent).  Well, I believe in conservation more than most, but when you’re a guest in someone’s house and country, a good guest accepts his host’s gifts graciously, which in this case mean drinking about two tumblers full of disgusting rice vodka/herbs/bear parts.

Anyway, Grandfather always seems to have the right timing to cheer me up right as I think this entire county is full of people who have the awareness of drunken, brain damaged people.  After I park my motorbike, Grandfather pulls me into his apartment (I live in what could be described as a 4 floor duplex, Grandfather and Grandmother on bottom floor, his son and family on 2^nd floor, a French couple on 3^rd floor, and me on 4^th, all kept comfortably separate by an exterior stairwell/entryway), and sits me down, then starts pouring either beer if I’m lucky, or some foul rice vodka concoction if I’m unlucky, and I hang with Grandfather until I’ve pounded 2 beers or 3 shots and the accompanying snack.  Now, Grandfather and Grandmother speak not a word of English, and I speak about 20 words of Vietnamese so most of the time we sit there in awkward silence, grinning silly and having one word conversations (“Vietnam good?” “Vietnam good.”  pointing to food “good!”  ‘good’ is one of the few Vietnamese words I know).

But  like I said, Grandfather and Grandmother are like my adopted grandparents.  Today I came home after a particularly exhausting day, wanting nothing more than to go up and relax, but, Grandfather sensed a disturbance in the Force, and pulled me into his apartment, where I was greeted with a full tumbler of mysterious rice vodka.  He patted me on the shoulder and encouraged me to drink up.  He told me what it was in Vietnamese, and I didn’t understand, but I was led to understand that whatever it was, “it’s good for the man!”  So, I did my usual, and gulped down about 12 ounces of extremely bizarre, borderline gag-reflex inducing rice vodka, followed by a glass of water.  Grandfather doesn’t drink anymore, but boy, he sure does love plying his guests with booze.   He is really a sweet heart.  Even if I can barely stomach the concoctions I am forced to drink, his heart is in the right place, and I drink it with a grimace concealed with a smile and a “to your health”.   And other times, Grandfather shuffles up to my apartment with little Vietnamese treats to offer.  Mostly I don’t know what I’m eating/drinking, but his hospitality is clear, and I always accept graciously, even when it’s stomach churning.  But again, he’s a sweet old man, and I like hanging out with him even if our conversations only consist of one word, and much awkward smiles and grins.

As I said Grandfather is like my adopted granddad, but as he’s Vietnamese, that still doesn’t stop him from occasionally trying to rip me off.  One time I ordered water (all houses are supplied by big bottles of drinking water, as the tap water is non-potable), it was delivered when I wasn’t there and Grandfather received the delivery.  Thinking he had paid for it in my stead, I went to give him the money, and he gladly accepted it, then I noticed Grandmother smacking him and talking in Vietnamese disapprovingly.  Grandmother kept giving me the money back, Grandfather kept taking it.  I was very confused.  Finally Grandmother shooed me away with my money, and the next day,  the water guy came around asking for money.  Grandfather hadn’t paid for it, but was going to gladly accept me giving him the money for it.  Grandmother wouldn’t have it though.

 That’s the thing with the Viets, they are sweet people, but they have little compunction about ripping you off, even if they like you.   I just shrugged it off and smiled, as I know Grandfather is an old scoundrel.  A month later when I was paying rent though, Grandfather was mistaken in his calculation of how much I owed him by $350, and would never have noticed (basically you pay rent 3 months at time here, and he forgot one month), now a part of me was thinking, ‘haha, sweet a free month!, gotcha Grandfather!’ but of course, the other side of me was like ‘no, be honorable’, and as my momma raised me right, that’s the side I always listen to.  So after 10 minutes of me explaining of how his calculation  was off and in fact I owed him $350, he got it.   I’m pretty sure I scored one for Western Honor on that one.  Grandfather has always treated me well, but after that, I was like blood.  And now here I sit, with a gut full of foul rice vodka infused with some horrible herbs/animal parts gurgling in my belly, but happy in being an adopted grandson.  As I said, the Viets can be infuriatingly oblivious to everything, yet they are still a very sweet hearted people.

Sexpats, Missionaries, Hired Guns, and English Teachers; An Introduction to the expat scene.

So, less someone think I'm biased against all things Vietnamese, it's time to talk about the expat “community” here. (It's not just the Vietnamese that piss me off, I'm an equal opportunity critic) I put quotes around community because in my mind, community means some common connection to other people, some lifestyle or belief, some glue that holds people together rather than having them be strangers. Here in Hanoi, we're only a community because of our foreignness. The only thing the expat community has in common is that no one speaks the local language (ok, maybe there's 3 Westerners who can carry on an actual conversation in Vietnamese deeper than “My name is ---. I like food too”), and we are most certainly NOT VIETNAMESE, a fact pointed out every time you are stared at as you walk down the street, ripped off by a local, or asked to repeat your poorly spoken Vietnamese five times. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that Viets don't treat us well, in general, they do (apart from ripping us off), and they are a super friendly people, far more friendly than any Western place I've lived. It's just that their ethnic identity IS their national identity (like every other country except America, Canada, and Australia-immigrant nations), and so the only Vietnamese are Vietnamese.

A couple of other quick generalizations about the demographics before we begin. The expats here are almost exclusively 20-25 years old, or 55+. Straight out of university, or heading to retirement. And dear god, I must be getting old, because seriously, college kids (and those just out) seem like such immature twats to me. Bah, such is middle age.

Anyway, In Hanoi, there's four types of expats. Not EVERYONE falls into these categories, but hey, generalizations are a fun part of life. Without them, where would most humor and ALL social sciences be? I find the only people stupider than someone who never makes a generalization are the ones who believe all their generalizations one hundred percent. Bigots and the Politically Correct are not so different from each other in that regard. So without anymore caveats, here they are, the Sexpats, the Missionaries, the English Teachers, and the Hired Guns.

The (S)expats are often older Western guys (but not always older), who love Vietnam because here they are a white god. Not every guy who dates Viets is a Sexpat, but boy, you can tell them when you see them. You can recognize most Sexpats by the age or beauty difference between them and their Vietnamese girlfriends/wives. Old guy with young girl? Sexpat. Ugly guy with beautiful local girl? Sexpat. Back home, they are usually guys who have a hard time getting laid, but here, they can always find a girl whose lifetime earnings will total what the Sexpat earns in one year. As such, the Sexpat represents a way out of village life for a local girl. And all they have to do is cook for, and have sex with an older ugly guy. And even better, unlike 70% of Vietnamese men, he is less likely to abuse her. 66% of Vietnamese women report that their husbands abuse them.

It's pretty funny/gross to see some guy in his fifties with a far younger, far more beautiful, and often pregnant, Viet wife trailing behind him. Typically the girl speaks little/no English, so that sweetens the deal further, as most of these guys don't want a wife for companionship anyway. They want a good little girl who cooks, cleans, fucks, and shuts her mouth (at least in English). Typically, when they go out to social events, the Sexpat gives his girl a toy to play with, and that keeps the girl occupied while the man hangs out with his friends. An Ipad is the preferred pacifier. The girl sits happily playing, as she would be lost in all the English conversation anyway. The Sexpat's preferred transport in Hanoi is a big, expensive motorcycle with his little Viet girl clinging on to him like a mother chimpanzee and it's offspring.

Because cars are almost useless here, guys with small dicks tend to prefer big expensive motorcycles, and even they are fairly useless for the typical weaving in and out of Hanoi traffic. Those bikes were made for proper roads and highways, not cramped alleyways and weaving around the random fruit seller standing in the middle of the road. Getting around here is all about zigging and zagging through the hordes of people, random open manhole covers, and Vietnamese stopping in the middle of the road to get out their cell phones. The Hanoi Weave is hard to do on an 800cc motorcycle. Not to mention the only time you can get any vehicle going faster than 70mph (and in Hanoi traffic, doing 70 feels like driving at Mach 10) is once you get about one hour outside of Hanoi into the countryside. And even then, there's the goddamned fruit sellers in the middle of the road.

Sexpats are the only long termers here in Vietnam. All the other expats, no matter how much they swear to you "they just love Hanoi", are only here for three years maximum before it starts to even get to them. Most people who “just love Hanoi” have also never lived anywhere outside their hometown. Those who have lived in a lot of different places tend to not be big fans of Hanoi, because the newness of being a foreigner has worn off, and what's left is just dirty old Hanoi.

Saying how much you “just love Hanoi” is the local equivalent of “I wait tables, but I'm actually an actor” in Los Angeles. Essentially it's another pretentious line of bullshit which nobody believes yet everyone tells each other. This city has a higher pretentious twat ratio per capita than a New York gallery showing performance art.

Everyone is trying to out “I-love-hanoi” the other, because everyone considers themselves so hard core because they live in Hanoi, yet being pretentious, they would never say its hard to live in Hanoi. Oddly enough, everyone “just loves Hanoi”, yet absolutely no one lives here longer than 3 years. No one that isn't into banging Viets that is. Sexpats got it good and will never leave.

Which brings me to the second type of expat, the Missionaries. Now, I don't mean actual missionaries in the religious sense, these Missionaries usually work for an NGO, but there's also a healthy dose of them in the education field. NGO stands for Non-Governmental Organization, basically equivalent to an international non-profit company. The Missionaries are typically fresh out of their ivy league universities, and after a year or two of either volunteering or working as an unpaid intern, are here to Save the Vietnamese People. They are mostly from wealthy backgrounds.

There's not a lot of money to be made in the NGO field, at least at the entry level (upper management make as much money as their private business counterparts, and somehow, are still always crying for everyone else to give their organization money), so the only ones who can afford to work as a volunteer or unpaid intern for a year are people who are already independently wealthy. Alas, it's always the bourgeoise who lead the revolutions and crusades as their insulated backgrounds breed naïve idealism. Of all the pretentious pricks in Hanoi, these are usually the worst.

As they have been enlightened on poverty, oppression, and gender rights by their professors, they are here to right the wrongs, and guide the benighted Viets to peace and prosperity. As old and corrupt as the Sexpats are, they are naive and young. An army of Pollyannas coming to Save The World. Now, I understand their motivations, and respect them actually. Helping people is a noble goal, and I know the people they do help really appreciate it. However, their naivety and self-righteousness make them a pain in the ass to deal with. Actual missionaries are often helpful in the same way, and annoying in the same way.

The Missionaries are the types that if they were to hear you complaining about anything here, would be the first to tell you "if you don't like it, then you should leave", or that the Westerner neighborhoods are "expat ghettos". Of course, they would never apply such critiques to foreigners in their own culture. They would never tell a Viet that lived in Canada and was complaining about some aspect of Canadian culture "love it or leave it!" No, that would be wrong. Nor would they ever call a Vietnamese neighborhood in their own country an “Asian ghetto”. But hypocrisy never got in the way of self-righteousness. I used Canada as an example, because they are the most politically correct people I've ever met. Like a country of Diversity Specialists or something. Except for my Canadian friends who are reading this, luckily they aren't so uptight. :)

In conversation the Missionaries are either excusing the stupider aspects of Vietnamese culture, or persecuting anyone who happens to point out such cultural failings. “Not better or worse, just different” is their motto. Yeah, ok, so you're telling me the cultural acceptance of domestic abuse is “just different” than ours, which tends to frown upon it? Or not putting a helmet on your child's head as it clings to the back of your motorbike, because you believe that a helmet will hurt a child's brain and neck development (yes, that's an actual reason here) is “just different”? What about the Vietnamese/Chinese obsession with male virility which has put to extinction the Vietnamese rhino, and pushed the Vietnamese tiger , elephant, and bear to near extinction? Ah, right, that's “just different” too. One thing travel and history have taught me is that, yes, some cultures have their shit together a lot more than others. Cultural relativism is bullshit.

English Teachers are the next group. They are typically young kids who are out on their first international adventure, and capitalize on the huge demand for native English speakers to teach conversational English. Few other places in the world can someone straight out of college work 20 hour weeks and live like a king. And that's why they are here, to party their asses off while still making money. They live in kind of an extended spring break.

When people ask me what I do in Hanoi, I tell them I am a teacher, then quickly add in “but I teach History”, to not get lumped into the party happy backpacker scene of the English Teacher. People usually respond, “oh, you're a REAL teacher”, because basically to be an English teacher you need little to no qualifications, at most a six month TOEFL course, and there's little to no course planning. You show up around 6pm, go through the preset lesson plan with the students for a few hours, and then you're done for the day. The pub awaits. It's not a bad life if you're someone who just wants to party his or her way around the world. In fact, I wish I had discovered this gig when I was traveling the world, as it sure as hell beats the digging ditches and serving coffee that I did. Not a bad sort, the English Teacher, but not much for conversation beyond “did you see that chick?” or “I was sooo wasted!”

Finally, we come to our last group, the Hired Guns. Hired Guns are the ones who are only here because of their jobs. Typically embassy workers, business people, or occasionally, teachers, such as Yours Truly. I put myself into this generalization. Most Hired Guns don't care for Hanoi, as they didn't really choose to live here, and Hanoi is a hard city to fall in love with. They tend to isolate themselves in the gated communities or luxury villas, in order to put as much distance between Vietnam and themselves. They are often middle aged, typically trailing a bewildered family. I don't really know much about this type (apart from myself) as they really don't get out much, I only see them behind the dark glass of their chauffeured cars, or at the more exclusive restaurants in Hanoi, which I don't go to. An elusive species.

So, that brings you up to speed on the local expat scene here. Which pretty much sucks by the way. The social scene is very tiny, and it's notable to see someone you haven't seen before. There are plenty of backpacker tourists in the Old Quarter, but they're only here for a quick bit. Every expat has pretty much seen every expat around town. It's pretty incestuous, and as far as incest goes, well, let's say that family tree ain't too pretty.

An introduction to freediving, and how I almost apparently died several times.

So, continuing my Thailand Island adventure. I camped three nights and spent four days on the semi-deserted Koh Rok, swimming and writing. It was a good time for me to clear my head. Being in the wilderness is good for that. And got some writing done, because they have a generator that runs for a few hours at night. I love being in the middle of nowhere with my fancy computer and phone. Makes me feel like I'm a nomad of the future. Which I pretty much am I guess.

Anyway, after scuba-diving, I was snorkeling around by the beach. It's amazing there, there's coral reefs surrounding the whole island, much of them in only about 5-10 feet of water, so you can basically snorkel in them. While snorkeling, I saw something about 15 feet below the surface that I wanted to check out, so, using my newfound knowledge of how to stop your ears from hurting underwater from the pressure (the technique is called 'equalizing', and basically, as you descend, and your ears start to hurt-the main reason I could never go more than 6 feet underwater actually-all you do it squeeze your nose shut, and blow, forcing your ears to equalize with the external pressure) I took a deep gulp of air and dove down.

I got about 15 feet down, and still had plenty of air. Then I looked around and realize how deep I was underwater, and that actually, I could stay down for a little while as my oxygen felt fine. It was pretty liberating. Scuba diving is great, but it's expensive and requires a whole bunch of awkward and expensive gear. Snorkeling is great because you need very little and can do it for free. In fact, all I had was a snorkel and a mask, I didn't bring my fins. But there I was pretty far below the surface, swimming around like a fish underwater, not even needing awkward fins.. As I felt my lungs start to burn, I headed back up. I had been under almost one minute.

Then I wanted to try again, and go deeper. So, I started to hyperventilate, on the theory that it will saturate my blood with oxygen, giving me more time underwater. I gulped a final breath and down into the blue I went. This time, I looked up and realized I was 30 feet underwater! It was amazing. I have always actually been terrified of drowning, and never did any diving before Christmas of this year. I could feel the fear as I went down, but it was outweighed by the exhilaration of what I was doing, what I was accomplishing, and what I was seeing. It was like the poor mans scuba dive!

I came back up, waited a few minutes to get my air back. This time I wanted to see how far I could push my limits, how deep could I go on a single breath, just using my body, not even fins for ascent/descent. I relaxed, then started to hyperventilate to fill my lungs. Then final breath, and down, down, down. I made it 40 feet down, touched the bottom, and shot back up, lungs burning for air, and right as they were about to give up and breathe big lungful of water, whoosh, I made it to the surface and let the glorious air fill my lungs. I couldn't believe what I had done.

From that moment on, I haven't been afraid of drowning. Major phobia number 1, CONQUERED. It was so liberating. I know exactly how far I went down because I did a second dive where I measured it out using a bunch of rope I found, and measured it out, tying it to a piece of wood as a float, and using a rock as an anchor. It was between 40-44 feet deep!!! On a single breath of air, not even using fins to move faster. With fins, I think I would reach 60 feet. That may be my next adventure this spring.

Anyway, after a few days I had to leave my tropical paradise to head to Bangkok to get laser-eye surgery (more on that later). As I got back to the mainland, I met with one the dive masters that I had scuba-ed with, and told him about my little diving accomplishment. He nodded impressed and said “Oh yeah, that's called free-diving. There's a french guy who teaches that in Thailand. But actually, a bunch of people die every year doing that. Usually happens as they are returning to the surface, only a few feet from the surface when their lungs give out and they suck in a lungful of water, drowning instantly. Happens when you mis-judge the air left in your lungs.”

Me.....”Oh.....Huh...Yeah...I didn't actually think about that.” When I got home, I googled freediving, and one of the first things that come up is “freediving deaths”. Apparently, a lot of people do indeed die doing this. There's two ways that people die doing this, one is called Shallow Water Blackout, where you misjudge the amount of O2 left in your lungs, and as you're about to surface, your O2 levels drop, but you can still hold your lungs closed, so you think its fine, but in fact, your blood doesn't have the required amount of oxygen in it, and your actually faint underwater from lack of O2, drowning instantly. The other way people die is Deep Water Blackout. This is when you dive deeper than 30 feet, which I had, and resurface too quickly (which I had), which causes your blood vessels to expand on ascent due to the decreasing pressure, so basically, your blood pressure drops very quickly, and you faint, drowning. Oh and also, hyperventilating before a dive as I had only increases the chance of Shallow Water Blackout.

I spent a horrified hour reading about the various ways I could have died instantly. DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME. Freediving is so risky that even the world champion died through a shallow water blackout. However, after doing more reading, you can avoid this fate if you simply listen to your lungs. If your lungs start screaming for air, your dive is over, go up quickly. The problem happens mostly to experienced divers, as they develop an ability to ignore the burning sensation and overcome it by willpower, in order to hold their breath longer. But it's a real fine between that and blackout. However, next time I freedive, I will most certainly try and take a few more precautions, because it was pretty freaky reading about how many people die from it.

However, the freedom of being underwater like that is indescribable. As I said, it's like scuba with none of the expensive, heavy bullshit. Just you and the water. And even better, you can't get the bends (nitrogen poisoning) from it because you're not breathing underwater, it's just a single breath, so you can rise and surface quicker than a scuba diver. But yeah, next time I try that, I'll be taking a lot more precautions.

Now is the part, if you haven't already said it before, “Why the hell would you even bother doing this crazy, and dangerous stuff for no real reason?” I didn't know the answer until just now. I realize throughout my life, I am most happy when I am challenging myself to the limits of human behavior and experience. Countless times, I've hit the Road, with no money, no plan, no friends, and no connections, sometimes even in a foreign country, with no support, just throwing myself into life, simply just to see if I could do it. I've hurtled down one of the largest mountains in America, Mount Hood, on a rickety children's bike, just to see if I could do. I've been penniless and homeless 5 times so far in the US and once in France, no connections, nowhere to stay, just the clothes on my back and less than a dollar in my pocket. And 5 times, I made it back again by my own wits and work and sometimes a little help from my friends. Unconsciously I do it to test my limits, I guess. And although it may sound like it, I have never done it to brag, I've done it simply to challenge myself.

And I realize these times of my life have been the happiest moments in my life. Because it makes me feel alive. The times in my life when I haven't been challenged have often been the most sad parts of my life. I fear stagnation literally worse than I fear death. Death is after all, the one guarantee in life. But stagnation is no guarantee. Stagnation is the feeling of nothingness, of aimless drifting, of simply just existing. For some that's a fine life, but for me, that's a fate worse than death. I'm not making any judgements against anyone's life, I'm just saying how I prefer to live mine.

I know I'm weird like that, and by now means do I encourage everyone to think like I do. If everyone did, the world would actually be a bigger mess than it is. So, honestly, I am not trying to brag, nor am I trying to encourage you to do the same. But for me, it's simply not a choice. It's my nature. And if there is one thing I believe is that everyone should follow their natures. Indeed, that may be the key to happiness. But I don't know, I certainly don't have all the answers. I can only speak from my own mind and nature.

And so far, in less than a month, I had completely conquered one of my two phobia, drowning. Now, I just had to get over my claustrophobia....That little experience would come two days after this diving experience in a partially submerged cave in Thailand. Soon updates. 

Jacque Cousteau-ing in Thailand, part 1

 

So, I made it out of Hanoi, and into Bangkok, then took a flight down the Trang Province in southwestern Thailand. In all my travels, this is absolutely one of the most beautiful places one earth. Or, I should say, one of the most beautiful beaches on earth. Beaches and deserts are my two most favorite places on earth. The desert in the Northwest of the US is amazing in its pristine solitude, rugged landscape, and breathtaking colors. The beaches of the Andaman Sea, which is the area between Burma, western Thailand, and western Malaysia are stunning. The water is amazing. Even in the “winter” its 84F, and crystal clear. I've seen my fair share of tropical beaches, and let me tell you so far, this takes the cake. And the crème de la crème are the islands off the coast. When swimming you can see clearly down to fifty to sixty feet below. The sea life is stunning in it's variety of colors and forms. Every single creature you see is a shade of neon. I really didn't think it was possible that these colors existed outside of bad fashion. I did my best to get some underwater footage of this actually.

How you ask? Did I spend $500 for an underwater camera? NO! I spent $15 on a camera dry bag (basically a glorified ziploc bag) designed to keep cameras waterproof up to ten meters (30 ft). I also don't have a camera, so as usual as I use my cellphone for my camera/computer/email/texts/maps/gps/video/everything. Let me tell you, smartphones are probably the coolest invention since the computer itself, especially if you are always traveling or live out of a suitcase, as I do. The footage is pretty clear, but lets say my underwater filming skills need to be improved. I'll post the edited version on YouTube, so stay tuned.

So, I arrived in Trang Province, a little known tourist destination (a thing that is becoming very rare in Thailand, there's few places you can go in this country where there isn't a flood of Russian and Australian tourists) and hopped a boat to the island of Koh Mok, about 2 miles off the mainland. This was ok, the lodging was cheap ($13/night for a clean room with a fan no AC) I found a real basic room with an outside bathroom -no hot water, but you don't really need it when the weather is a constant 85F, and it's a two minute walk through the jungle to the beach.

I decided to go here to do some diving, as this area is world renowned for it's diving. There's few places in the world where you can see for about 60ft in any direction underwater. And the coral life is amazing. Also, on the way to the beach, you are likely to run into the pack of wild monkeys which roam the islands, as I did one day. I scared them as much as they scared me. A word about monkeys. Monkeys are really cute. And they are really human like in their ways. But just like humans, they can be dangerous and unpredictable. Most monkeys are tiny, and if worse came to worse, you could fight one off depending on how good of a fighter you are. But these monkeys were pretty big. The biggest was about the size of a full grown rottweiler. Like most wild animals, they'll leave you alone, unless you present them with food, then they can become a bit aggressive. I was going to toss one a banana I found, but as it rose up and approached me fearlessly, I decided to just toss the banana a safe distance away. He took it, gave me a weird little eye shrug, then followed his troops back into the trees.

I spent a few days on the slightly touristy island of Ko Muk. But honestly, as I'm traveling along, and still dealing with some heartache, the last thing I wanted to be surrounded by was a bunch of happy in love, beautiful and rich tourists. I almost always prefer wilderness or small local communities to the touristy places, but when I'm feeling lonely, especially so.

So, I hooked up with a dive company here, and we went out to the island of Koh Rok, I'll be posting pictures on my picassa account soon. It's breathtaking. But it's very isolated. Once you get there (a two hour boat ride), you're on your own to get back, as boats don't come by too often. Well, they do, but they are tourist day trip boats that only stay for two hours, and if you wanted a ride back with them, they charge an arm and a leg, as you are literally a captive audience. The island is national park, and there is no development allowed, which is a godsend. The only lodging available are tents that you can rent from the park for $10 a night. However, for tent camping, it's pretty luxurious. There are bathrooms with showers and toilets (no hot water of course), and a small restaurant which serves up mediocre, but expensive due to transportation costs, Thai food.

But the place is truly like paradise lost. Thailand as a nation, has their tourism run like clockwork. There is literally no place in Thailand, where you can't find someone who speaks English and is willing to help you, at most for a small fee. In Vietnam, you're on your own, so you better be prepared for anything. But traveling Thailand is easy. There's never any 'roughing' by real traveler standards involved. Thailand is where you should go if you want to visit S.E. Asia, but don't want to end up in the 'crazy Asia' situations I end up in.

I spent the first day diving in the most beautiful water I have ever seen. On the day I saw two of the most amazing sea creatures, a six foot long manta ray, and a hawkbill sea turtle, that we swam with for a while. Sea turtles are one of the most peaceful creatures I have ever seen. They swim very slowly and gracefully, they literally look like a slow moving, gigantic bird. The Ray that we saw was amazing too. They move in such graceful, and yet spooky ways. They literally look like a ghost floating through the sea. Their big black eyes keep an eye on you, and it's a special feeling as you meet their alien eyes. You can see they mean you no harm, and in fact, you get the feeling they see you as something below their concern. They acknowledge you, then write you off as no threat and continue their slow, graceful glide. They're two of the most interesting creatures I've seen in my life, in land and out of land.

We also saw plenty of moray eels too. They look frightening though. They are constantly opening their fang lined mouths and scanning their area, waiting to snatch anything that comes to close. But even they are not aggressive. Morays don't really move. They stay in their little nook, with only their head sticking out. You can go fairly near them, and they won't attack. In fact, they tend to avoid you. The only people who get bit by a moray are the ones who accidentally poke their hands into a dark crevasse, and the eel, feeling attacked, defends itself with a bite. As long as you don't poke them, they won't do anything to you.

But this is the way of aquatic life. If you are not the specific animal the creature hunts, they will almost never make an aggressive action toward you, always preferring retreat. My theory is that since the creatures of the ocean have around 1 billion years to evolve their various defense systems longer than we land animals have, every single creature in the ocean has a highly sophisticated system of attack and defense/camouflage. The most insane types of camouflage are underwater, with creatures that look like either nothing, or something completely different than what they are.

Anyway, sea creatures operate upon the same psychological principals of nations with nuclear weapons. Everyone involved knows they are a badass, and they also know their enemies are as badass as they are, so much of the ocean life is at an uneasy truce. A shark doesn't want to fuck with an eel, a school of smaller fish isn't too worried about a shark because due to their group camouflage and distraction techniques, they know that only 1% of their school will end up as a victim to the shark. As such, the odds are very good that the little fish will live. Two dead out of 300 is a pretty small sacrifice in any battle, land or sea. This is because as land animals, especially mammals have only had a few millions years to develop defenses and attacks, sea creatures have had BILLIONS of years to perfect the art of offense and defense.

With evolution, I don't see the need for any grand creator. Life abhors a vacuum. If there is some small opening in the food chain, it will be filled almost instantly by another creature whose unique abilities happen to provide a perfect match for the situation. If you create poison to kill every single type of bacteria, by the random combination of genetic traits, there will always be one or two of the bacteria that is resistant, then once 99.9% of the competitors disappear, that .01% has free range over all the other resources which have been freed by the death of their competition.

I know this might sound freaky or dangerous to those who haven't dove before but the biggest misconception about the ocean life is that it's out to get you. Now, all my life, I have had a huge phobia about sea creatures, because they look scary, and they all have ways of seriously injuring or killing you. Both things are true, however, what you don't realize until you're underwater with them is they have no intention to bother you. If you approach 99% of sea creatures, their first action is to move away from you. Unless you are their prey animal, they want absolutely nothing to do with you. Even sharks.

The only time sharks attack people is when they confuse surf boards for seals, or flapping feet for an injured fish. Scuba divers, rarely, maybe never, get attacked, because underwater, you move and look like a fish, a big frigging fish. So they generally scatter when you show up. The only really dangerous animals are the ones that are slow moving and that you step on or bump into. They're not aggressive at all, but by their nature, are extremely defensive. Things like spiky sea urchins, rock fish, jellyfish, sting rays, coral snakes, and stone fish. None of these creatures will ever attack you. The only way people get hurt is when you literally step on them or bump into them, and they are too slow moving to avoid you. As long as you are aware of your surroundings thoughs, these dangers are easily avoided.

As a side note, I did almost fall victim to two of these creatures, within a period of 15 minutes. I was snorkeling back to the beach, and was in quite shallow water, maybe one foot deep. I could have walked, but honestly, I am very afraid of stepping on these creatures. Maybe even phobic. So, I was floating with my mask on to the beach, to get as close to the clear sand as I could before putting my feet down. Right before I did, I saw a rock that looked just a little different. I stopped to get a better look. And the rock had eyes. This is a stonefish. A stonefish is one of the WORST things to step on in the ocean.

My friend Dave stepped on one, and had to be hospitalized for two days. Stonefish are really slow and awkward, so their only defense against being eaten is to sit and look like a rock, but be covered in poisoned spines for anything that tries to eat it. I missed stepping on it be about 7 niches. Also, there is a chance you can die immediately from their sting if you are allergic. Most don't though, you just suffer excruciating pain for a about a week until the poison wares off. Thats assuming you are on an island that has some rudimentary medical care. This island did not, it was a 5 hour boat ride to the next place that did. However, I was safe, so I sat observing this amazing yet deadly creature. And it is truly a marvel of evolution. It was evolved to perfectly look like a moss covered rock. Literally the only way you can tell is by noticing, as I had, that some spots on it didn't match the surrounding rock.

So, I gave the beast a wide berth, and continued to the shore. Thinking I was safe, I stood up and began wading in. A moment later, a juvenile sting ray burst out of the sand away from me, less than two feet away. Rays are not aggressive at all, but they aren't very aware of their surroundings, so they are easily surprised. And if they sting you, there's little chance of death, again, unless you're allergic, but it will hurt like hell for while. The Crocodile Hunter guy just got really unlucky, as the sting that hit him pierced his heart. Nothing to be done about that. Anywhere else, he would have just been hurt but fine overall. The good news is that these creatures only inhabit warm waters, and the more good news is that if you are wearing water sandals or scuba booties, you will be mostly safe from their stings. As such, my next purchase is aqua booties.

International Man of History in the Lost Temples of Cambodia!

 

So, this holiday season, I decided to go have a Holiday in Cambodia ('where the people dress in black', thanks Dead Kennedys). I hadn't been to Cambodia before, and heard it was nice and cheap, so off I go for my two week holiday break. I flew from Hanoi to Bangkok, spent a night there, then took the morning train to the Cambodian border. For some reason, flying into Cambodia is more than twice as expensive as flying to Bangkok, although it's closer. You can get from Bangkok to Siam Reap in Cambodia, but it takes a full day of travel by public transit.

So, I took the train to the border, and while on train, I met some young twenty two year old backpackers (this seems to be the only type of backpackers unfortunately), and we crossed the border together. The border used to be pretty strict between the two countries, but not so much right now. During the Khmer Rouge era, Cambodia had some border wars with Thailand, which are mostly cooled off now, except in the northern provinces, where there's still an occasional shot fired back and forth. We split a minibus ride from the border to Siam Reap, as Cambodia has no functioning railway. In fact, there's a lot of things that Cambodia has non-functioning.

A little background on Cambodia: in the 70's a guy named Pol Pot had the great idea to overthrow the Western friendly government by starting another Glorious Revolution, of the naïve and bloody type that South East Asia is so famous for. His idea was to get rid of all the Western educated elite of Cambodian society and bring everything back to an idealized agrarian farming society, where everyone is equal and no one is taken advantage of by the spoiled, unproductive elite class of society. Well, as you probably heard, that didn't work out so well. Take this as a warning next time some hippy is trying to convince you we should all go back being anarchist organic farmers. They tried it here, and it left them dirt poor, corrupt, and in chaos.

Basically, they rounded up anyone who wasn't a farmer or worker and massacred them. This lasted a few years until their neighbor, Vietnam, got worried about the unrest spreading into their own country, and worried about the ethnic Vietnamese that were still stuck there. So, just a few years after fighting off the Americans, the Viets attacked Cambodia to get rid of Khmer Rouge. They did, very quickly and successfully, as the Vietnamese army was far superior to the rag-tag Khmer Rouge, and they were quite adept at jungle warfare. Only a few months after they attacked, the Vietnamese captured the capital city of Phnom Phen, and cleared the Khmer Rouge out. They set up a new government that was friendly to Vietnam, then left. The end.

Except that it wasn't. The Khmer Rouge just fled into the jungles where they kept waging a guerrilla war for the next 20 years, until due to shrinking numbers and support, they surrendered in 1998. When I was there, they were just beginning the trials of the Khmer Rouge, 15 years later. The current government is a 'democracy', but is in reality the standard Southeast Asia crony capitalist state, with a minority of extremely wealthy buying and selling the country as they see fit, and the average farmer has no land rights if a resort developer wants his land, including even building resorts of 'protected' wilderness reserves.

Twenty years of civil war left Cambodia as one of the poorest Southeast Asian nations, with basically no infrastructure. Until recently the roads in the country were little more than bombed out tracks, and still, many thousand land mines lay active and waiting for some poor villager to stumble upon them. Not to mention our great 'diplomat' and war criminal Henry Kissinger and his secret bombing campaign of Cambodia dropped more bombs there and in Laos than were dropped in the total of World War II. Lots of them are still unexploded, and there are plenty of signs warning you to stay on the trail for fear of mines. You see a lot of amputees in Cambodia.

Cambodia itself is like a more scenic, less developed and drier version of Vietnam. The air is far less humid, and they actually have sunshine there, whereas Vietnam skies are permanently gray, save a few rare days. The land in Vietnam is strange, basically every inch of land that can be farmed, is. Rice paddies cover EVERYTHING, and what is not a rice paddy is an impassable limestone mountain that juts vertically up. Cambodia seemed a lot more like a savannah, a lot of tall grass fields with some lovely trees reaching into the sky, and mountain forests. Most of the land in Cambodia is undeveloped.

Anyway, we arrived in Siam Reap, home of the ancient Angkor culture, famous for their massive city-temples which lay hidden in the jungles until the late 1800's, when the French stumbled upon them. The Angkor culture flourished from around 800AD to around 1200AD, then they collapsed into jungle covered obscurity. The reasons for their collapse were unknown for a long time. Archaeologists recently figured it out though. Like almost every other civilization collapse, this one was caused by environmental ruin. Americans, take no notice of the following, because of course, it couldn't happen to America, God loves us too much to allow our glorious empire to collapse for the same reason every other one collapsed.

The story goes like this: building a glorious empire requires a LOT of resources. For us, it's been cheap gas and land, for the Angkorians, it was cheap labor and an abundant agricultural land. The Angkorian kings got to the point where labor was specialized enough that not everyone had to be a farmer. So after conquering a bunch of land, they decided to build monuments to their own glory. Totally unlike our McMansions and SUVs. In fact, they convinced the locals that they weren't just kings, they were god-kings. And if you were a farmer living in a bamboo hut, when you saw one of their enormous stone temples that dwarfed everything you had ever seen in your life, it was pretty easy to believe. Then the next god king, after the original one, had to prove himself to be an even more powerful god-king by building an even bigger and more impressive temple to himself. And so on, and so on, until about 400 years later, when the area for hundreds of miles around was deforested, due to using the trees for building the temples, housing the workers, growing crops, and fuel. Bah, not a big deal, only stupid tree huggers should care about trees anyway, right? Wrong, forests main benefit to humans is that they provide a natural filtration system for water before it reaches rivers and lakes. So, the workers have to expend more and more energy to get the wood and stone which were so vital to their culture, unlike our billion dollar a day wars to extract a diminishing return of petrol, of course.

Quickly, their drinking and fishing water became too polluted with mud and silt. So drinking water becomes more scarce, fishing is finished, and there's no more forest to hunt animals, and the top soil in which crops grow has been washed away by the rains, as there's no tree roots to keep it in place and renew it. Then, collapse, the god-kings are finished, the jungle reclaims it's place, and the Cambodians go back to being simple farmers.

Siam Reap the city isn't much to write about, just your typical shambling, developing world collection of grand hotels and shanties. The first day we took a Cambodian tuk-tuk, which is different than a Thai tuk-tuk. A Thai one is a purpose built three wheeled pickup truck/motorcycle thing than runs on propane. The Cambodian version is much more ghetto. It's just a 110cc motorbike with a two wheeled carriage hitched to it. Anyway, we (I had buddied up with a young French guy) spent 4 days exploring the monumental ruins of the Angkor civilization, the most famous of which is Angkor Wat. I'll be posting photos of all the ruins shortly, but let me just say, they are absolutely the coolest thing I have seen in Asia. The temple civilization covers around 100 sq. miles and contains about 25 temple complexes. Angkor Wat while the most famous, is actually the least impressive of them all. The far more beautiful and interesting ones were Angkor Thom and Beng Melea.

Angkor Thom is basically a collection of massive pyramids (photos coming soon), dedicated to mostly Hindu dieties, although several god-kings switched back and forth between Hinduism and Buddhism, Buddhism is the current religion, but in the Angkor period, they were mostly Hindus. I was really surprised that Indian civilization had spread all the to even Vietnam. In the south of 'Nam, they also had a stint of Hindu culture called the Chams. The temples do have a decent amount of tourists (I was there probably in the most peak season, Christmas time), but less then most famous places in Europe by far, so the crowds didn't detract much from the awe and mystery. The absolute best thing I saw was Beng Melea though.

To get to the Beng Melea temple, you have to take a two hour ride by tuk-tuk (about 40 miles away), which eliminates the majority of tourists. When we entered, there was probably less the 24 tourists. The great thing about Beng Melea though is that they have a nice little walkway you can tour the temple on, but you are also free to wander off, and start climbing and exploring amongst the ruins. That was actually one of the coolest things I have done in my life, and I think that's saying a lot for a guy like me. While most of the other temples have been somewhat restored, Beng Melea was left to the jungle and ruin. Few buildings remain completely standing, most of the walls have toppled down over the years, and the jungle has grown over the whole thing. It felt like I was living an Indiana Jones movie, crawling through abandoned passageways and up massive temples walls with huge blocks of stone strewn everywhere. The whole time we were exploring, we saw not a single other person. It was great. Very much like the movie/game Tomb Raider, unfortunately minus Angelina Jolie.

Techno, Loin cloth, Fire, and a 12 foot Python; Or Why Our Moon Festival Kicked Ass

Ok, well, it’s been a while. The new school year is in full swing, and it began with a bang. One of the first events of the year was our Moon Festival at the school. The Chinese calendar is based upon lunar cycles, and at the start of September is typically when the farmers begin to harvest their rice. They celebrate the end of the harvest with the Moon Festival, like a non-scary version of our Halloween. Kids dress up, families are visited, moon cakes are consumed (moon cakes are weird rice flour cakes that are very dense and salty/sweet. An acquired taste for sure. I can only get through about half or a quarter of one, even though they are only about 3 ½ inches in diameter), and in general, it’s a family holiday. Last year our school had a traditional dragon dance to celebrate. Dragon dancers are the guys you see in Chinatowns that form sort of a human dragon made out of paper mache and dance around to the rhythm of loud drums. It was pretty cool.

This year, the school tried something different, and hired three performers. A snake handler, a magician, and two jugglers.  The snake handler came out to pumping techno music, a Vietnamese guy wearing nothing but bulging muscles and a loin cloth.  Around the room, jaws dropped.  He starts gyrating around the room in his loin cloth, and it looked like a scene from a bachelorette party, but instead of horny bridesmaids, it was junior high school students. Then he breaks out the snake, a 12 foot long python weighing 175 pounds!  He dances around the rooms wrapping the snake around him, and then for the finale gets some kids to stand up, close their eyes, then proceeds to wrap the giant snake around their terrified, squealing bodies, letting it coil up around them, then pulling it off them. I’m pretty sure in the States, that would get your school shut down, but here, it was all in good fun. The kids loved it, and the staff was alternately gasping in horror, and laughing in surprise that we could actually get away with this.

Next act was a magician, who pulled a lot of doves out of things. Pretty standard, until he poured gasoline all over a box and lit it on fire. In our meeting room, with the flames reaching up to our drop ceiling, just next to the sprinkler system. Same reaction of horror/amusement from the staff, same reaction of awe from the kids. Again, I’m not sure you could get away with a guy almost lighting your school on fire as part of his act, but hey, we’re in the Wild, Wild East.

Luckily the school wasn’t burnt down, and we went to the third and final act, jugglers. Jugglers, bah, what risk or adult themes could this bring? None. Unless…He misses one of the bowling pins he’s juggling and almost knocks a student out with it, and then they begin to strip down to nothing but their boxers as they’re juggling and then juggle their clothing back and forth as they put their clothing back on. Oh Asia! So unintentionally adult themed and dangerous! 

 I have to admit though, I do kind of appreciate the fact that there is no “culture of safety” like we have in the West. I mean, some basic level of safety preparedness is good, about at the level that we thirty-somethings had when we were kids. You could still trick-or-treat at night without parents tagging lamely along, and playgrounds had monkey bars and climbing obstacles higher than 3 feet. Yeah, you could get hurt, but that’s life, most kids don’t, a few do, they heal, and life goes on. Now, it’s Litigation Nation, and Always Someone Else’s Fault. But not over here. Of course, here there’s still no sidewalks and random bottomless holes in the middle of the roadway, so there’s a happy balance to be had somewhere.

Englishisms, Part 1

So it's been a while.  I got back to Hanoi about a month ago after spending a great summer in back in the States with my friends.  But now it's back to the Wild, Wild East, and the frontier style teaching that comes with it.  Textbooks?  Library?  Computer Lab?  Bah, who needs them new fangled edu-macation things?  Students and teachers, one could argue, but they're not an option here, so I continue Little House on the Red River style.


Anyway, one of the more painful things I have to do is teach kids how to write research papers.  Research papers are something they've only had to do if they are in Western schools, and that very rarely.  Vietnamese education tends to rely exclusively on memorizing and testing, rather than understanding.  So, they don't really get the idea.  But that's my job, to teach them how to write, and not just copy and paste an article from Wikipedia, as they are so prone to do.  I doubt that's just an Asian problem though, I'm pretty sure that's an Internet Generation problem, but I wouldn't really know, as I don't teach in the West.  Anyway, here's some pretty good Englishisms I've had so far, all unintentionally hilariously created by my kids in various papers I've had them write.

"The most techonoligcal nation is Finland, althuogh this country was exposed to industrialisation only in the 1050's."

Question, Who in the planet uses the most water?  "In conclusion, people use the water most."

When discussing clean water and poor countries "Firstly, they are still retardation countries, so they don't have ebnough money to buy water."

When discussing special ed.  "In Korea, they have some special schools for Autism, aspergers, handicapped people, and retards."

When discussing soil pollution, "The reason  is soot of cars and factories, chemicultivation, shampoo, and so on."

About Climate Change  "I think we are trying to make the world worse if we don't know how to contribute to climate change."

About Asian diet  "Nevertheless, we are Asians, our father's like dog meats, that's disgusting to me, but some of my friends like it."


About the Vietnamese culture (written by a Viet student):  "But Vietnamese are very lazy, and don't try to learn about new things.  When we go to foreign cultures, people think we rude because Vietnamese people so loud all the time.  And Vietnamese so greedy, they rather live like rats than to spend a little money on nice things".