Behind rose-colored glasses

There are a lot of things about Vietnam that frustrates me. There have been moments where I felt so disillusioned with this whole country that I felt ready to go home. I came here with a set of expectations, shaped by my childhood memories of my last visit and raised even more by travel documentaries poetically illustrating the wonders of this country.

It’s hard not to travel without a set of expectations. The whole point of traveling in the first place is because we have a set of expectations in our mind about what we would like to see and do in a new place. We don’t travel and expect to hate that place to which we’re traveling. What’s the point of travel then? We travel because we expect the new destination will offer us a new perspective, that we’ll learn more about a new culture, that we’ll be able to momentarily escape from our troubles back home, that we can sit on the beach with a beer in hand and not be bothered by our usual distractions. That is why we travel.

So of course, coming to Vietnam, I carried a set of expectations that I hoped to fulfill during my time here. Expectations about traveling throughout this country, family, getting an internship, learning about my dad’s past, about throwing myself headfirst into familiar yet strange culture that is my motherland.

And to be completely honest, despite all the rosy blog posts about my time here, all my expectations were unmet. All of them. Some more disappointing than others. There were some expectations that were…expected, but still frustrated me. Like, being treated different as a Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese). I knew that that was a given, that people will view me as a target for money or that their kind words are a mask to hide their resentment toward all Viet Kieus in general (especially American Viet Kieus). But even though I knew this was a given, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t piss me the hell off when it happens.

This expectation revealed itself immediately, the moment our plane landed and we were forced to bribe to get through customs. No one else has to do it, not the Vietnamese nationals, not any other foreigners, but Viet Kieus have to. We had to stick $5 in each of our passports so the customs jerks won’t give us trouble and let us through. It is beyond frustrating to look into the face of those bastards knowing that they are only giving us trouble because of our citizenship.

There are other things about the government that frustrates me, like the overall corruption, the ideology, etc., but I think if I go into details I will get into trouble…and I want to go home. Let’s just say that when there is corruption at the top, it will definitely trickle all the way down to the bottom. The root of many problems in Vietnamese society—the general distrust toward one another, the inability for good people (not tied to the government) to move up, the difficulty of doing honest business and become rich in this country—can be traced back to that problem.

There is also the matter of how Vietnamese people treat each other. I mentioned the general distrust people have with each other here. Of course in America, it’s not like I have my arms wide open in trust of strangers, but at least here I don’t have to worry about people scamming every second I turn. Here, you have to worry about getting yelled at the market for simply haggling, to the bus driver cheating you out of a few extra thousand dong on the bus fare, and the airport baggage claim workers who whisper in your ear threatening comments so you could fork over money to them (this actually happened to my mom). It’s tiring having to look over your back all the time, questioning everyone’s intentions toward you.

I also came here believing that Vietnam was an easy and cheap country to travel in. WRONG. First off, the roads in Vietnam are very undeveloped, making travel (even for locals) very difficult. Traveling the local way is VERY tiring—think long rides on old, rickety buses alongside smelly livestock. A trip from My Tho to Saigon is really only an hour, but on a bus, it is three. So if not the local way, you can take the taxi, charter a bus, or book a flight, but that ends up being quite pricey if you plan to travel throughout the whole country. So, you book a tour, which seems cheap at first, but ends up costing more than you actually paid because of obligatory tips to the driver, tour guide, and surprise costs that pop up during your trip. While Vietnam is still very cheap compared to, say Europe, it is not that cheap backpacker’s traveling paradise as some make it out to be. And, if you’re a foreigner, you’ll get ripped off everywhere. Guaranteed.

There was also the matter of getting an internship. I got one here, with the Red Cross branch in the countryside. I was excited, full of optimism, and ready to throw myself in whatever work they would give me. Then I met the person in charge, who upon first meeting me, spoke about how some American students like me also worked with her and raised money to build a bathroom for poor kids. At first I thought she was just telling me this just to share, until it became clear to me that she also expected the same from me—to raise money. Obviously, I didn’t have that capacity and made it clear by avoiding the subject of money altogether. Although I was accepted, I never got a call back from her about my work schedule. After this, I kind of dropped the hope of interning in Vietnam and did my own thing.

The most disappointing expectation was one I didn’t anticipate and that was of family. The very reason I’ve wanted to come back all these years was to visit my extended family here because they made my first visit so joyous and memorable. In the US, I grew up knowing only my small, immediate family. I didn’t have grandparents to defend me against angry parents, no aunts and uncles to spoil me, nothing. Before my first visit, I didn’t really understand what it meant to be part of a big family, of gathering together at Tet, of having cousins to play with, of being comforted knowing that I had a safety net beyond my parents. I came back to recreate those memories and to feel part of a big family again. Then I came and…it felt different. People had their own lives. My aunts and uncles had their own families to deal with. My cousins, oh god..., save for a few good ones, are...spoiled and disrespectful.

I understand that family is not perfect, but here’s the thing. All my siblings and I grew up poor, not having anything new or even the hope of our parents getting buying it for us because my parents scrimped and saved any money they had to send back to Vietnam, telling us that they were more in need of it than us. We were told at an early age that if we wanted anything, we would have to find a way to get it on our own. I don’t have anything against my parents for raising me that way. It is the best lesson my parents taught me—to learn to care for myself and be independent.

But then, coming back and seeing my cousins having grown up with so much more than I could even dared to imagine when I was little, in a country much poorer than my own, and (this is what gets me the most) seeing them act materialistic, disrespectful to their parents, and lacking the ability to be independent has made Tammy and I resentful for the sacrifice we had to make. I’ve tried to tell myself that while they might have grown up having more than me materially, I still have more opportunities than them. But then I see them act spoiled and resentment just stirs in me.

Because of this, it has made it difficult to feel the warmth I once did toward some members of my family as I did feel on my first visit. Of course, I still love my family. My mom’s side is impossibly good to me. They see that all my siblings and I were raised with good values to understand the value of hard work, to know how to share, to feel empathy toward others less fortunate, and to respect our parents. They see this and they respect my mom and treat me really well. But, the disappointment of not being close to everyone like before has been a hard, emotional fall. When it’s strangers that disappoint you, you accept it as a fact of life. But when it’s family, it hurts in a way that is difficult to fully grasp.

There was an upside in all of these disappointments, as there always is. I'm sort of glad that I experienced them because it made me appreciate those things worth appreciating even more. Unlike some who come to this country, I got to experience both sides of Vietnam--the beautiful and the ugly side. It also reminds me of my age, that I am old enough to understand that everything is so much more complex than the surface may reveal, and to learn from this. This trip didn't make me hate this country, or the people, or my family. It opened my eyes and was a lesson to not wear rose-colored glasses to every new place I visit. Nothing is perfect, nobody is perfect, no experience will ever be perfect.

Last meal

It's my last day in Vietnam and my family made sure I ate...A LOT. This whole day has revolved around eating, and gossiping, family drama, the requisite picture taking...and eating, eating, eating....

So, my last meal in Vietnam:

Breakfast
My morning began early around 4am to the sounds of my aunt and mom gossiping about yesterday's hottest family drama. This is usually how my mornings begin here--annoyingly having to wake up because my mom's side love to hear themselves talking. But, I love them (most of them) and my Uncle Tai took me out to eat breakfast on my last day.

Hu Tieu. I don't know if it is the nostalgia that I'm already feeling for eating in the streets, for going out with my Uncle Tai, for the cacophony of noise that accompanies a warm bowl of noodles, but this is the best bowl of hu tieu I've ever had.
Of course, downed with a cup of Vietnamese milk coffee.
Lunch
For lunch, my cousin Tri treated me out to...burgers! I've been having a serious craving for In and Out and after hearing me talk about my cravings, he suggested to take me to Lotteria, a popular burger joint in Saigon.

It looks like a regular burger...
...but it's a kimchee burger (Lotteria is like the Korean McDonalds. Doesn't this mess look delicious?
Dinner
A family style meal of Vietnamese crepes.
The crepes weren't good. Actually, they were pretty bad, but it is my last night with my family so it didn't matter. I was also suffering from some sort of stomach bug (that I think I caught from the burgers) so my "last meals" were spent running to the bathroom. And so it ends...Goodbye, Vietnamese food, goodbye tapeworm (hopefully!), goodbye huge family style meals prodding each other about the latest hot gossip.

Fruit heaven

If you've ever lived with me (Hi, Amy and Thuy!), you would know that I love my fruits. Because I'm lazy, can't cook, and hate to eat rice, I often turn to fruits to meet my dietary needs. I sometimes buy a bag of apples and say, "Hey, this bag of apples is for everyone. Feel free to eat some." Then in a matter of a few days, I eat the all the apples myself, having shared none (sorry guys!). Coming to Vietnam, the foods I anticipated most was not pho, but all the delicious tropical fruit that I would surely gorge on. And gorge I have! Here are some of my favorites that I will miss and drool in the memory of when I return back to our land of apples and oranges:

Dragonfruit.This reptile-like fruit (hence the name) is among the most interesting fruit here.
Inside is white with specks of black seeds. It tastes like...not quite sure. It isn't like anything I've ever eaten before, so I don't even know how to explain the taste, but it is very light and refreshing to eat. It's supposedly good for your skin. It is delicious cold and makes for a good breakfast food, like yogurt.
Mangosteen. This has been my favorite fruit discovery in Vietnam.
The outside doesn't make it look quite appealing, but inside is a fleshy, soury-sweet fruit. So, so good.
The outer shell was once used for dying purposes. Back in the day, clothes were all this color.
Guava. These days, the guava in Vietnam is no longer pink on the inside as my childhood memories would recollect. People here have bred guava in such a way that made the pink and the seeds that often would lead to appendicitis disappear. Kind of a disappointment because lost is that distinct guava sweetness. However, whenever I crave an apple (I eat A LOT of apples back home), I eat one of these. It tastes like a hybrid of apples and pears.
Rambutan. These fuzzy looking balls are fleshy inside, like lychee, but less sweet. I could eat an entire kilo of these guys myself.
Coc (sorry for the name, but that's what it is called!). This fruit is sour, with a huge seed in side. I love eating it with chili-salt. You can find these at fruit snack stands all over Saigon.
Durian, my absolute favorite. I have written on my love for this king of all fruits on a previous post. I was just told, though, that eating this is very fattening. Think how I felt hearing this, after having eaten half of a durian all by myself.
Coconut. Ahh...nothing is more refreshing after a run in the humid Vietnamese heat than drinking coconut juice, recently plucked from the tree.
Coconuts are plentiful in the countryside. My aunt raises some trees in their backyard and neighbors are always giving them away as presents. Everyday, I drink about one or two, downing the juice in a matter of sips. The coconut juice here is naturally sweet and has a bit of carbonation in it.

So, I've spent these three months eating A LOT of kilos of fruit. Some days, all I do is drink coconut, sit around and eat all types of fruits my aunt brings home for my mom and I. Now, this is the life.

My favorite place in Vietnam

It’s my last day in the countryside. To simply say that I will miss the life that I have become accustomed to here doesn’t capture the attachment I have developed for this place over this three month period. I have written a lot about my love for the countryside on this blog not realizing that once I leave this place, the very things I wrote about—the slower life, tranquility, fresh air, beautiful scenery— would act as a sort of emotional tether, holding me back from leaving.

I fell in love with this place 11 years ago, when I first visited Vietnam. Every good memory I have of Vietnam from back then is of the fun I had at this place, at my grandma’s home in My Tho.
I remember my first trip here, when roads to get to my grandma’s house had not yet been developed and the rain made the long walk to her house a muddy, slippery mess. That memory of my mom’s side of the family falling in the mud, into the pond, all over each other on my first trek here is still my absolute favorite memory of Vietnam. That joy of being part of a big family that I was denied of experiencing for so long (my family was the only family in the US at that time), trampling in the mud together, falling down and laughing together to make the long walk to my grandma’s house—this is the memory that brought me back to Vietnam. I wanted to recreate and again, feel that sense of joy and comfort of family that has stayed with me for all these years.

Of course, things change. My Tho is not as how I remembered it. It is more developed, there is less open space, less rice fields to play in, and no more muddy treks to my grandma’s family. Along with that, that sense of family that became so ingrained in my memories is not as strong as it once was. Everyone has their own lives to deal with now. My city cousins are older and they aren’t quite as interested in country adventures as I am. But even then, despite all these changes that I thought would diminish my love for this place…my attachment to the countryside has not only remained, it has grown.

Because, the country life I have experienced during my time here has been more of an inner experience. Maybe it is a matter of age because when you’re younger, your sense of self is shaped by the people around you and your interactions with them. When you’re older, you have a better sense of who you are and at least in my experience, are more likely to draw inwards (through self-reflection) to define your sense of self.

The tranquility of life here, limited distractions, and thousands of miles away from my worries that lay waiting for me back home has allowed me to rest after a hectic end-of-college experience and given me a sense of inner calm I haven’t felt for so long. I take this inner calm with me as I explore the area with my cousin Chanh, noticing small details about the natural landscape, like all the different colors the sky changes around sunset, making the rice fields glow a different hue of green every passing minute. Or, the morning haze that floats over the entire area around 5am, leaving dew to sit on grass blades.
It is the lifestyle here that I love most. To say that it is simple is to reduce the complexity of the people here and the hardships they face, but life here is not as complicated by the trivial problems faced in the city. People here have their land, their day’s work, and their family to take care of. They don’t care (as much) for the trivial and material items that city people feel is necessary to keep up appearances, like brand-name clothes, or eating out at fancy/trendy restaurants, or the sleekest motorbike. People here are poorer. They know this and do their hard work with pride. I respect those men and women I pass by every day on my afternoon runs, crouching over in the hot sun to tend over their crops. They are tending over the same land my grandma tended, the same land that once belonged to my great-grandparents.

Having mentioned that, it has been an interesting discovery finding out that a large portion of the land I skim my eyes over every day once belonged to my great-grandparents, that the dirt path I run along is the same road my grandma painstakingly walked along to carry 200 pounds of rice wheat to find money to feed her 7 children as a single parent.

My family history on my mom’s side runs deep on this land. This discovery has been a matter of pride every time I look outside, at the yellow-green of fields of rice wheat in front of me. My ancestors owned this land, their sweat and blood once trickled and permeated into the fields here. Family history has only bound me closer to this place.

But, I’m leaving in a matter of days. I’m leaving the only place in Vietnam that has given me the closest feeling of home outside of the Bay Area. I’m leaving the place of my childhood memories. I’m leaving behind tranquility, vast open space, morning runs along a backdrop of purplish-gray skies, 5am badminton matches with country kids at the local schoolyard, the croaking of insects at night, dragon-fly hunting with my cousin, afternoons spent listening to the changing of the winds….

I’ll miss it all. I don’t know where this inner calm will go once I leave this place. Maybe it will remain, having ingrained itself into my mind after three months of carefree days spent sipping coconut juice, while lazily swinging on a hammock. I’m not sure quite sure. I just know that my nostalgia for this place will remain. This is the Vietnam I love and care about the most.

Meet my awesome Uncle Tay

There are many people I will miss once I leave this country, but fewer will I miss more than my Uncle Tai. My Uncle Tai is a unique character and for the past 3 months, he really has helped make my Vietnam experience special simply by being his wacky, hilarious self. I like funny people and even more, I like people who are completely unaware of their own hilarity and continue acting as such despite repeated (and vocal) attempts to change them.

How can I best describe my Uncle Tai and capture the full scope of his awesomeness? Case examples would be best in his case. For example, when we went to Vung Tau my uncle carried his belongings in a little plastic baggy which consisted of three packs of cigarettes, his toothbrush, swimming trunks, and a shot glass. That is my Uncle Tai in a nutshell.

Every family has that one uncle who gets a little too drunk, acts a bit kooky, and always says the most ridiculous things at the most inappropriate times. My Uncle Tai is that uncle. He is HILARIOUS. Everything he does, from walking around the house, holding a conversation, smoking, even the simplest tasks he performs tickles my funnybone. To pinpoint exactly what and why he is one of my favorite people in the world is difficult. My Uncle Tai is quite a complex man.

For one, he is an overgrown fratboy who LOVES to party, drink, and socialize with people. He is the life of every party. His cell phone is always ringing with calls from friends pleading for him to go party with them. He is so popular that his friends are more than willing to drive to his house to pick him up for a night out.

I can understand why he is so popular. When he is drunk (which is often), he is a lot of fun to be around. He jokes around a lot, challenges his friends to a game of “guess what song I am playing on my cell phone,” or my favorite, attempts to speak English. Tammy and I have been lucky enough to witness his drunken slurs in broken English.

On a particular get together with my uncles from my dad’s side in Tay Ninh, Uncle Tai tagged along and quickly initiated a drinking session with all of them. Seeing Tammy and I there, Uncle Tai went into a flurry of REALLY BAD English to impress my other rice-farming uncles. When one of my uncles asked what I have visited in Tay Ninh so far, Uncle Tai quickly chimed in to answer the question—“Black famous.” At first I didn’t understand then I remembered Tay Ninh is famous for the Black Lady Mountain that borders Cambodia. So that was what he was referring to. After a few more drinks he turns to Tammy and I with a smirk on his face to say, “Memories.” He nods at us as if he was speaking a secret language that only the three of us understood. After more drinks he begins to say, “If…” Tammy and I wait for the rest of the sentence, but nothing else is said. I look over to Tammy and say, “I…I think that’s all he wanted to say—If.” And then Tammy and I break into a roar of laughter. Oh, Uncle Tai.

On another drunken occasion he reminded me of the promise I made with him to come back to Vietnam so he could meet my husband-to-be and determine if he is worthy enough for me. “Promise,” he says to me. “Your boy, my country.” Yes, Uncle Tai. Got it. He kept repeating that over and over, as I listened to him and laughed, until my mom yelled at him and told him to get his drunk self to bed.

My Uncle Tai also has a zest for life that puts people half his age to shame. Last year, he went backpacking…backpacking to North Vietnam, exploring the backroads of the region, coming back with stories of his adventures that makes my travel-hungry self jealous. His zest is attributed to his boyish personality, still hanging on to a youth gone by. It’s kind of odd seeing him act like a kid—he does look his age—but that only adds to his hilarity.

When we went to the beach in Vung Tau, he started splashing Tammy and I in the water while yelling out, “Let’s splash each other!” Umm…okay, we guess..Tammy and I awkwardly thought. So we did, and my Uncle responded to the splashing with such boyish glee, laughing and splashing at us that we couldn’t help but find the odd request hilarious. And with a quick change of mood, he complained that he was cold and like a little kid said that he wanted to go home, and went to sit on the beach to wait for us.

He is also always saying ridiculous things. He is the guy that says those things that everyone is thinking, but all know you shouldn’t say aloud. Uncle Tai doesn’t really have a filter, so he just says it, to everyone else’s shock and hesitant laughter. I enjoy listening to him talk the most. He always sounds serious because he has a really deep, raspy voice (due to smoking) and he says everything with such certainty. But a lot of the things he says are not serious, even though he presents it as so, so I just can’t but laugh at every word that comes out of his mouth.

He is also that guy that has an opinion for everything and feels it is necessary to share it. It makes for a lot of embarrassing confrontations with others that often begin with, “What is up with this guy and why is he talking?” My mom (the older sister) gets embarrassed sometimes when he comes along because he has to ask questions when it is not his place to ask or has to chime in to give his opinion when it is not requested.

However, a boyish, talkative party animal is not all he is. He is extremely smart, the most accomplished student in my mom’s family. He is currently a teacher of Vietnamese literature and I’m sure, could recite classic Vietnamese poetry with the best of them.

Most importantly, he is an awesome uncle, always more than willing to drive us around to anywhere we want to go. He always says to me, “Anywhere you want to go or anything you want to eat, just call your Uncle Tai.” When Tammy asked him to take her to the art museum, only to find out that the museum was closed that day, he DEMANDED the security guard to open the doors to let his niece in. That is my Uncle Tai. In Vietnam, he has been one of our fiercest defenders and protectors. It doesn’t matter if he is hungover from partying the night before, he still gets up at 4:30 in the morning to drive my mom and I where we need to go and even sits to wait with us to ensure that everything is okay.

The best places I’ve eaten in Vietnam were with him. He takes me to some of the most run-down restaurants and street-side vendors telling me this place makes the best this and this. And he’s always right. However, one time when he made Tammy go eat with him to keep him company at one of these run-down places, she ended up with a stomach ache (hah). He also knows that I love to drink coffee so whenever he goes out for his morning coffee runs, he asks me if I want some brought back.

Maybe another reason why I get along with him so well is also because he shares my mom’s personality. They both talk A LOT and are quite hot-tempered, leading to many hilarious eruptions of angry tirades. But one thing he differs from my mom is that his angry tirades are never directed at me. He spoils Tammy and I, often defending us when my mom yells. Even when I come up with a really stupid excuse, he repeats it to my mom, chastising her for yelling at me.

Without my Uncle Tai, Vietnam wouldn’t have been fun as it has been. His wackiness is one of the things I’ll miss witnessing the most. Same goes for Tammy, I’m sure. During the afternoons here, whenever I hear the creak-creak of the rocking hammock upstairs at his home in Saigon, I know it’s my Uncle Tai, probably sleeping or smoking a cigarette. His raspy voice sometimes singing a tune. I’ll truly miss that a lot.

Goodbye, Saigon

Saigon, I love you, but you're bringing me down.

I have a love/hate relationship with Saigon. I love the energy and the overabundance of things to do and see. Everywhere I go, even if it is to simply sit at a coffee shop, there is always something interesting that pops into the corner of my eye--something new, something strange, something depressing. My favorite thing to do is to take a motorbike ride through the city, especially at night to take in the city lights and absorb the energy.

And the food…omg. Did I mention that Saigon has the best Vietnamese food anywhere around? There is good food to be found everywhere (my chubbier physique is evidence of this). Sometimes I past street vendors and a waft of delicious-smelling grilled chicken or steamed buns blows and I just get so delighted knowing that good Vietnamese food is so accessible, unlike back home, where I trip back to my parent’s house in San Jose is necessary.

Saigon is also home to my mom’s side of the family, all of whom are sociable and ridiculous (in their own unique way) like my mom. Spending time with them and listening to them engage in the usual family drama has been hands down, the best part of my stay here in Vietnam. Listening to my mom gossip with my Uncle Tai…hilarious. They also cater to me without me even asking them to, which is VERY NICE. Anywhere I want to go, they take me. Anything I want to eat, they buy for me. They are beyond good to me. Saigon is nothing without them.

But even despite all of these aspects, I still cannot stand staying in Saigon for more than a few days. 3 days is my breaking point. I just spent a week there and I was DYING to go back to the countryside. Why this is the case is because Saigon is just too polluted. Beyond the city center, trash is everywhere. The rivers are toxic and the smell is putrid. And the smog…the awful, awful smog. There is a reason why nearly everyone in Saigon walks around wearing a face mask (I do too). You can see the smog in the air—that grayish cloud that just floats over the city and only becomes thicker when the day’s heat is at its worst. The smog is so bad here that it has triggered allergies that I didn’t even know I had. I hack up a storm after each motorbike ride and the dirt from the air makes my skin itch and break out. No matter how many showers I take, I feel dirty as soon as I step outside.

Saigon’s pollution really beats me down. It makes me feel so tired and irritable. The never-ending noise from the street and the cramped space doesn’t help either. There is nowhere for me to run in the mornings, very little trees and natural landscape around, and even lesser open space to just...be.

As soon as I leave Saigon for the country, my mood immediately brightens from the fresh air and open space.I could run in the mornings and the only noise to disturb my sense of inner peace is the crowing of roosters and the occasional karaoke singing from the neighbors. My original plan was to spend most of my time in the city and on the weekends, come back to my grandma’s countryside in My Tho. However, that plan was immediately scrapped within the first few hours I spent in this city. The smog, dirt, and the pollution was just too much for me to handle. I've been happily finding refuge in the countryside for most of my time here.

No other city in Vietnam is as polluted as Saigon. Hanoi, Hue, Tay Ninh, Da Lat, My Tho...any other city I could stay in, but not Saigon. Even the exciting energy, the delicious food, and my awesome family is not enough to convince me to stay there. So, it's a long goodbye and honestly, I don't feel so bad leaving this city.

Vietnamese coffee

Hi, my name is Vina and I'm a coffee addict. Specifically, I'm addicted to Vietnamese coffee--the rich, deep taste mixed with sugary, condensed milk over ice. Cafe sua da, as we call it here, is a must have every morning. Without a cup of this caffeinated goodness, I can't even pull myself out of my wooden table of a bed and have any strength to navigate the streets of Vietnam in search for an adventure. When I'm patient, I am willing to wait for the drip-drip of coffee out of the metal drip filter that is iconic to Vietnam's coffee culture.
When I'm not patient (which is most of the time) I either remind my uncle to grab me a cup of coffee after his daily morning trips to the coffee shop or even better, have him call the nearby coffee shop by cell phone and have them deliver it directly to our house. Without having to do anything myself other than wait about few minutes, I have a delicious cup of cafe sua da brought to the door of my uncle's house.
The accessibility to Vietnamese coffee everywhere I go has made me an addict. Vietnam's coffee culture is a residue of French rule, but it is distinctly Vietnamese. In Saigon, people like to drink their coffee with lots of ice. Poured only halfway in the cup, people just let time pass by, chit-chat with friends, catch up on yesterday's gossip and let the ice melt to dilute the strong coffee.

Coffee shops are everywhere and they don't carry the same negative connotations as they do back home. Most coffee shops here are family friendly, not the same blacked-out windows and scantily dressed servers we are hesitant (at least I am) to enter into back home.

Drinking cafe sua da is one of the things I'll miss most when I leave here. The coffee beans back home don't compare to the ones over here. Here, coffee is a lot darker and bitter. The condensed milk balances this bitterness, creating the perfect mix. And now I'm off, to have my afternoon cup of coffee.

The making of banh cuon

I went to eat banh cuon (rolled rice cake) with my cousin Vy in Saigon. These rolled rice cakes are filled with shrimp, beef, and dipped in fish sauce. So good! Even better is that I got to see the making of these rice cakes. Making these goodies takes a lot of skill. The rice flour has to be poured out and spread evenly. When it is finished, it has to be picked up in such a way as to not rip these very thin rice papers. This person does it so well, she could multitask.

I'll be making my last trip around Vietnam (to Dalat) for the next few days so I won't be updating. After that, I'll be home soon!

On my love for durian

Southeast Asia has been heaven for indulging my love of durian. This smelly 'king of all fruits' are plentiful in this part of the world. Back home, only on rare occasions do I get to eat durian because it is so expensive--nearly 20 bucks for a frostbitten, not-so-delicious durian. But here, there are durian stands everywhere. You don't even have to really go far to find one. Just follow that distinct stench. Sometimes, when I'm on the motorbike, a waft of the durian scent rushes toward my face and my mouth immediately starts watering. And then lo and behold, we pass by a durian stand a few meters ahead.

I don't understand people who don't like to eat durian. How can they not love the creamy, custardy taste of this distinct fruit? And the aroma? Divine! The more it smells, the better. I've heard people describe the smell as comparable to rotten eggs or vomit, but I have never smelled any of these scents from a durian fruit. Quite the opposite. The aroma is indescribable, yes, but that is why I love it so much.

The outer, spiky shell only adds to the exotic nature of this fruit. A drop of this fruit on a person's head can kill them. Delicious and dangerous--an awesome mix!
Durians here are expensive for locals standards, but cheap in our stands. A good durian can run about 100,000 Vietnamese dong--$5. And good is an understatement. Unlike the durians back home, it isn't watery due to being kept in a freezer for several months. Each fruit holds up firmly on their own, while remaining creamy on the inside.

When I went to Malaysia (a country famous for its durians), we stopped by a durian stand and gosh did I overindulge. I ate half a durian all to myself--8 ginormous pieces. It was sooooooo good, but I did feel a bit ill by the end.
Unfortunately, my love for durian is not shared by most people. The Vietnamese term for durian also reflects this sad truth. "Sau rieng," the Vietnamese word for durian translates as lonely sorrow. It is banned in all public places. This sign was posted in a subway station in Singapore.
Tran, a fellow durian lover is confused and saddened.

Well, what I say is the less the haters eat, the more durian there are for me. So, it's only your loss durian haters.

Here is video of my uncle cracking open a durian fruit. I love the sounds of excited wonder from all of us watching.

Oh Em Gee...studio pics

I am SOOO glad I did not inherit my mom's affinity for taking pictures, or I would have ended up with pictures that looked like this:

And this
Glamour shots are all the rage in Vietnam these days, especially for Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese) who are lured in by the dirt cheap prices and being photoshopped into an unrecognizable version of oneself. For about $50, you too can become owner to the most awkward set of glamour shots to show off to your friends.

My mom's friends convinced her to take studio pictures while here, telling her that she will look like a movie star in her pictures. Even though I knew what was to come out of this, I also encouraged her because I am always down for a good laugh, especially if it is at my mom (we have that type of relationship where we like to make fun of each other as much as we can). And...what a good laugh the whole experience was.

First, they painted a ridiculous amount of makeup on my mom's face. In any other context, I would have greatly objected to this strong-handed application of makeup, but the "stylists" insisted that this was necessary.

She was annoyed that I was taking pictures of her pre-photoshop.
And then came the scrambling of wardrobe changes, quick changes to the lighting, and the awkward positioning of poses...
They asked if she wanted to take pictures in Chinese or Japanese traditional outfits. I quickly chimed in and answered, "Yes! Kimonos would make for an interesting look!"
Oh, the giggles that came from these shots...

My mom is in LOVE with these pictures. She WILL NOT STOP looking at them. Anytime I go downstairs, I find her in the same spot in the living room, flipping through her photo album, admiring herself. On the day she picked up her pictures, she was so excited to show off her pictures to my uncles that when she ran over to his house, she dropped 600,000 Vietnamese dong on the ground, only to realize after the rush of excitement wore off that she lost all that money. Since taking the pictures, I have to hear her all day talking about how her pictures make her look like a famous singer, how my dad will surely be enamored by them....OMG.

I mean, it's not that my mom looks bad in them. It's just that...it doesn't look like her. They photoshopped her into an unrecognizable woman 10 years younger than she actually is. They made her nose taller, her wrinkles vanished, filled out her face, basically got rid of any personality from her face. They didn't even let her smile a full smile, which is a loss because she didn't get to reveal her distinct dimples--the only facial attribute (my favorite) that I inherited from her.

This is the mom I recognize, the mom I love to make fun of all the time for simply being her ridiculous self, and the mom that wouldn't trade for all the money in the world (or at least the $50 it cost to take the pictures) to look like an '80s-era Vietnamese singer. She may look her age, but at least she looks like she has a personality.

How to bargain in Vietnam and not get yelled at

Impossible! Or at least it has been so in my experience because when bargaining in Vietnam, getting ripped off is only a secondary concern to the risk of getting yelled at. Learning this has been somewhat difficult for me, coming from a country where items are sold with fixed prices and the general rule is that the customer is #1, but after a few colorful experiences myself, I have learned a couple of key rules to lessen both the risk of getting yelled at and ripped off.

- When it comes to bargaining in Vietnam, the most important thing to understand is that Vietnamese people are highly superstitious and Vietnamese sellers are even more so. Because this is a predominantly Buddhist country, fears about bad spirits, omens, and bad luck dominate Vietnamese thought and highly influences how people conduct themselves. We have all seen the altars bearing fruit offerings in Vietnamese stores back home, but in Vietnam, Vietnamese shopkeepers go a step further. I will explain.

If you ever get a chance to walk around Saigon’s biggest fabric district (Dong Khanh area in Chinatown), take careful notice of plastic bags full of fabric and paper pieces thrown into the street in front of shops. To anyone else, these plastic bags are simply bags of trash that are customary sights in the streets of Saigon. But no, these fabric pieces are cut from the desired fabric of customers who came in, bargained on this specific fabric, and ended up not buying it. What shopkeepers will then do is burn these fabric pieces/ paper and pray to spirits to bring bad luck on the customer. Sounds off, right? I know, but Vietnamese people really believe this stuff, so much so that customers are willing to bend their backs to sometimes purchase items they don’t really want just to avoid this.

So, how then does this translate into bargaining?

Rule #1: Avoid bargaining in the morning. In fact, don’t even go out to buy stuff in the morning, unless it is to purchase fresh food. This is because Vietnamese sellers believe that if they have to haggle with customers in the morning, they will have a bad luck with sales for the rest of the day. If you do go in the early morning, you will surely get more than a few grumpy faces and get cursed out by sellers. For example, on an early morning bus ride headed to the countryside, my mom and I witnessed an old woman get cursed out by a young bread seller for attempting to haggle. The bread seller cursed the old woman for bringing bad luck to her sales and continued to curse even as the old woman quickly handed over her money. It was ridiculous, but this is just an accepted fact in Vietnam.

When I went shopping with my aunt (again, on an early morning) in Saigon’s famous An Dong market, my aunt bought underwear she didn’t want from this one stall out of fear that they would not only yell at her, but get the other stalls to join in and jump us. On hearing this, Tammy and I thought, “Paranoid much?” but then we asked the rest of our family and they just shrugged their shoulders and were all, “Yeah, that happens.” When I was in at a market in Hue, word was going around that a woman had her pants pulled down by a shopkeeper after giving the shopkeeper a hard time by haggling too low. What the heck, right? But, I guess that’s just the way it is. I guess.

Also, the later you go in the day, the better deals you will get. By the end of the day, sellers just want to get rid of stuff and are much more flexible with the asking price. You will get even better prices if it is raining outside.

Rule #2: Forget the whole “the customer is #1” mantra we are taught in the U.S. Back home (generally) even if browse through the whole store and don’t purchase anything, you aren’t given any attitude. Here, however, if you just simply browse and touch an item without buying it, you are given a LOT of attitude. Most likely, you will leave the store/stall with a grumpy face staring you down. If you attempt to bargain, you will certainly get attitude. First comes the incredulous look from the sellers, their “what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you-for-even-suggesting-that-price” face. If you are persistent with your haggling, their pissed off look and tone of voice just gets even more rude that even when you have bargained the item down to a reasonable price, you no longer feel like buying it from them because they give you so much attitude.

This has been the most difficult part of bargaining for me to get used to. The moment I sense a bit of attitude, I just want to leave. The best way to handle this is to not argue and just leave if the attitude really gets on your nerves. It really isn’t worth causing a ruckus over because the shopkeeper WILL get the support of the other sellers in the market. And when it reaches that point, you have no idea what can happen.

Rule #3: Try to bargain for 50% of the asking price. The shopkeeper will immediately say no, but if you are persistent and try to talk the shopkeeper into it, you might be able to get away with it. This is how you should approach it. Ask for 50%, then say that you’re considering buying more than one item if they’re willing to bargain with you. They will say no, that business is slow, and your sort of bargaining is only hurting their business. This is when you start walking away. 60% of time, the moment you turn your back, you will get called back by the shopkeeper who is suddenly more than willing to bargain.

Be aware that whatever price they ask of you and whatever price you end up buying, even if it is 50%, even 40% of the asking price, the seller is still making a profit.

Rule #4: Don’t express too much interest in the item you want to buy. When shopkeepers know that you really like an item, they are less willing to bargain because they know that you are willing to pay a bit more for it. What I have learned is that when you really like something, pretend that you’re kind of indifferent to it. Even better, criticize it. For example, there’s a decorated jewelry box you really, really like. It’s hand-painted, with intricate details made out of eggshell pieces. It’s gorgeous and you really want it. Instead of going, “OMG, this is so gorgeous. Look at the craftsmanship on this piece,” you should say, “It’s pretty, but the quality of the paint is not that great and will definitely flake off in short time… There’s also a small scratch right here. See? Right here. You have to look closely to see it…Are you really sure it’s out of wood because it feels fake to me.” Find all the faults you can in the item. If you can’t find any, make some up. Then say, “Because of these faults, I’m only willing to buy it for ___ price. Take it or leave it.” If you did a good job in criticizing their merchandise, there’s a good chance you will walk away with a good deal.

Rule #5: Don’t be a foreigner. Sorry, but the truth is that no matter how good you think your bargaining skills are, if you are a foreigner (i.e. not Vietnamese), you will get ripped off. When you ask a shopkeeper for the price of an item, there are two prices—one reserved for Vietnamese and the other one for foreigners. Often, the asking price for foreigners is twice the amount asked of Vietnamese. Shopkeepers even admit it themselves. This one time, I asked for the price of this purse I sorta liked and was told that it cost 1 million Vietnamese dong ($50)—a ridiculous price for Vietnamese standards. Even though I asked them in Vietnamese, they knew I wasn’t from around these parts so they just made up the highest price that came to mind. If possible, go with a Vietnamese local to buy stuff.

Rule #6: The biggest pitfall of haggling in Vietnam is converting all the prices into American dollars. DON’T DO THIS. In the beginning, everything seemed so cheap because I kept converting it to USD. “Wow…100,000 dong? That’s only 5 bucks. How can I not buy it?” Then, I go somewhere else and find out that I could get the same thing for 60,000 dong and I end up feeling a bit cheated. Yes, things in Vietnam are cheap when converted to USD, but just because it is cheap doesn’t mean that you are not getting ripped off.

Follow these bargaining rules in Vietnam and you will maybe, just maybe get away with good deals and not get yelled at by grumpy sellers. Of course, it is always smart to assess the situation before you begin bargaining—the seller’s attitude toward you, the type of market, the time of day, etc. Do so at your own risk…I’m serious!

Malaysia in pictures

My Malaysia trip didn't turn out exactly as I had hoped because the tour I had booked was awful. I normally hate going on tours because I hate following a schedule when traveling and having to wait for people (ugh, Vietnamese time), but the idea of backpacking around Southeast Asia with my mom is really out of the question so tours were the only way to go.

To say I was disappointed doesn't really capture the anger and frustration I felt during my time there (I learned that I am not as patient as I thought I was and sometimes, I just really don't like people), but despite a not-so-great experience I still am appreciative that I got to visit a foreign country and experience new sights that I would not have otherwise been able to. Malaysia is a beautiful country. It is a lot more modernized and clean than I had expected. In fact, it looked a lot like America, save for the many mosques and sights of women covered in burqas. So, maybe I didn't have the best time there, but I do have pictures. To put a positive spin on it all, this just all means that a second trip to Malaysia will go on my to-do list and that is not a bad thing at all.


Batu Caves, where Hindus go to worship. There were also a whole bunch of monkeys around because the temple inside also worshipped a monkey god. It was the coolest place we visited in Malaysia.