To avoid working while on “vacation”, I am again using a chapter from my very first book ever, One Time In…
How I will write my next throwback post without putting forth effort remains to be seen, as this is the last chapter.
Chapter 16
Hanoi, Vietnam (And Thanks)
I flew into Vietnam with a deep tan and 2 kilograms of pineapple pies.
Oh so very gangster, I know. Well, I had to pay a visit to my man Mickey and make sure he wasn’t teaching his students any bad words. And while acquiring said tan, I sent him this photo of my companion on a beach in Thailand.
His reply stated that it would be in my best interest to bring him his beloved pineapple pies (sold only in Thailand as far as I know) or he would, and I quote, “make sure you get stuck out in Snake Village”. Words not to be treated lightly from a man of stature.
So, yeah, pineapple pies incoming!
Around 10am on October 24 2019, I sat down with my pal in a noodle shop near Tay Ho. Which translates as West Lake. A combination of riding Ho Chi Minh Tay from Phong Nha to Khe Sanh and walking the shores of Ho Xuan in Dalat would eventually teach me the translation. But, for now, Mick was still forced to explain the name of what we were eating.
Over our bowls of Bun Cha, he grinned at me, “So whaddya think of Vietnam?”
My thoughts were conflicted. Yesterday, I had spent my first evening in Hanoi carrying my bag around the streets. See, the taxi from Noi Bai International Airport had dropped me off, not at my place, but at the head of the alley, that lead to the alley which in turn lead to the head of the alley that my place sat on.
Having no SIM card prevented me from using my dead phone to track the sumbitch down. An iPhone s6 may run on dreams, but Google Maps needs data. And due to my laziness as a scholar, the old fashioned path of actually asking someone for directions… well, this may come as a shock, but most Vietnamese speak Vietnamese.
I hadn’t much enjoyed it. But, Holy Majoley! This was good food!
I looked thoughtful and took another bite, “It’s not like Thailand.”
Mick brought me up on the local food, spots, and hooligans. He even showed me to a shop where I could get a SIM card. Well, I couldn’t get a SIM card because the guy wanted to see the passport that I always leave in my room. So when my pal and fellow English teacher had to get ready for 2pm meeting with his boss, I walked back to my place and, with passport in hand, began the quest that would become a truly great comedy stick. The Quest for the Holy Vietel.
So, at my apartment, where I had wifi, I took a screenshot of the nearest phone shop in Google Maps. For the purposes of this story, we’re going to call it the Phantom Phone Shop. Because, that sucker never materialized.
But I went striding down Nhat Chieu happy as a clam and gazing out over Ho Tay. I saw all manner of garbage and upside down fish floating in the lake. Honestly, I don’t know which would scare me more; to swim in that water or to eat a fish from it.
Actually though, the smog set a kinda cool photographic effect on the Hai Con Rong. Those are a pair of stone dragons that rise out of the lake where Nhat Chieu joins Ve Ho.
There, I turned my back on the lake and walked up to a round about. Lots of cars zipping around in circles. Big hotel called the D’ El Dorado on the right, northwest side. Consulting my screenshot, I chose to go left, southeast. Down a kind of peaceful, shady street.
At this point, I’m on the wrong road of course, but I didn’t know that yet. I did see one shop with the word Vietel on the sign, but that guy wasn’t much help. He just kept saying something that sounded like Nam Hai Mot! Now at this point, I had learned to count, so I knew that that meant 521. But three numbers could not have meant less to me.
With the effeciency of a dog chasing his tail, I start looking for a street called Ngach 58. I chased my tail up a side street called Ngo 603 and across eight lanes on the Chi Cong Highway. And e’ voile Ngach 58! It’s a lane just big enough for a small car to pass through. For the most part, the walls are topped with glass and barbed wire. Waves of calmness and peace glided up my spine.
Up the lane, I found several things. There was a temple that looked kind of cool, but I didn’t give a very close look. Cause there was a one-legged old fella out front who seemed to be giving me the evil eye. I found a market tucked in among a collection of twisty little streets. And I found another shop carrying the name Vietel. Now here’s where things get interesting.
“Khong SIM the o day. Toi co the di… Nam Hai Mot.” Say what now? The little lady speaking the rapid fire Vietnamese behind her little counter now had my full attention. “Nam Hai Mot?”
Still talking a mile a minute, the woman grabbed a piece of paper and wrote this: 521 Lac Long Quan.
An address! I should have known! Perhaps deep inside I did know, but didn’t want to take the chance of getting lost. Well that ship had sailed. Let’s see where it goes.
She pointed me back down Ngach 58. So just like I had good sense, there I went. I walked like 200 yards and stopped. I crouched beside the one-legged man and asked, “Nam Hai Mot Lac Long Quan?” Vietnamese ensued, but then he pointed. Fortunately, I’d learned the word for thank you.
And that’s how I did it. Every time I came to an intersection, I stopped a random stranger and posed the question, “Nam Hai Mot Lac Long Quan”. They pointed me back across the highway, through an all too familiar round about, and… well this is embarrassing. Did you guess it was gonna be the same street I started out on? If so, I don’t like you.
But I’d done it! It was like that part of a movie where the heroes figure things out and everything starts to fall into place. As that thought passed through my mind, it occurred to me that perhaps I was about to be hit by a bus. That’s what happens right?
Everything is going great, then there’s one last catastrophe. As I started counting down the little blue plaques on the buildings, I kept suspicious visual sweeps going over my shoulder.
Sixty-five little blue placards to go
Sixty-five little plaques
Take a few steps and what do you get
Sixty-four little blue placards to go
I started composing my audition for Comedy Central.
One more little blue placard to go
Just one more little blue plaque
A final few steps and what did I get
The bastards closed 22 minutes ago!
Totes kidding. But that is what I was picturing. Nay, half an air conditioned hour later, I was again, King of the Universe. Again! And they didn’t even ask for my passport.
No bus! Just me, my brilliant phone, and a growling stomach with money in my pocket to do something about it (an important point). I swear, little kids were smiling and waving at me. “Hello!” I was pretty damned pleased with myself. I didn’t even get lost on the way back to the lake shore. I simply mistook a Vietnamese brewery for a restaurant.
Easy mistake that could happen to anybody. Almost all eating shops in Vietnam have a seating arrangement that consists of little plastic chairs on the street don’t ya see? And I naturally walked up and sat down for some Bun Cha.
Instead, I started off the evening with Bia Hoi (fresh beer). Later, this was followed by Banh Trang Nuong. Again, I didn’t yet understand the name. Just that it smelled good. Then, before I could make it back to my lair, the gem of Vietnam. Honestly, the most common reason people decide to stay in Vietnam forever. Coffee!
Just a skidding halt down the street from the alley that leads to the alley which in turn leads to the head of the alley that I live on, is a coffee shop called Ca Phe Viet. To cap off my first full day chạy trong vòng tròn (running in circles), I stepped off the now dark street.
Into a cozy little cafe furnished with chairs and tables, as well as a couple of couches situated around a coffee table. I was cheerfully greeted by the Vietnamese people chatting on the couches and while I sipped Ca Phe Sua (coffee with milk), I gazed out the window and listened in uncomprehendingly to their conversation.
As usual, I intended on minding my own affairs. But my asking for the check resulted in the owner inviting me to sit on the couch. I didn’t feel like I would contribute much to the conversation, until a fellow my own age turned to me and with perfect English, asked me how old I was. The conversation flowed from that point.
What started with an inquiry of my age, soon turned to his business venturing, then my plans in Vietnam and life in general. Finally we landed on taste in music. This, my last major chapter, ends with Li and I singing Your Man into the night, trying unsuccessfully to match Josh Turner’s deep bass voice.