Some people's children

Sometimes you see something and you wonder who raised that person. When you have this though there is an expression we use in English: "Some people's children."

Well I've never been one for sentimentality, but yes I have. So here I sit in front of my open window, rain misting me from the monsoon which comes as it pleases, as it pleases now. The ceiling fan whips lethargically around as breezes that can't decide where they want to go try to pull maps and silk wall hangings off the plaster that lines the walls of the flat. The stalwart Ho Chi Minh clings steadfastly to his post with no sign of relent, as always. It's dark and the occasional rumble gently rattles the shutters, and I'm thinking about the chapter of Viet Nam and how it's coming to a close, though I've only read about a hundred pages of the book, and the book is like about 6 bibles, 2 Qu'rans and a Torah long. Every day I realise how much more there is to learn about this place. Talk about keeping you on your toes. Yesterday I saw something which had very little to do with Viet Nam, and a lot to do with the west, and it bothered me. I guess that statement is false, it has a lot to do with Viet Nam now that it happened. There is a guy who is my neighbour. Not in the sense that we know each other, but when I stand on my balcony and he stands on his, we're at roughly the same altitude, though our buildings aren't joined. I don't really talk to other foreigners here unless unless they address me, so I don't know his deal, but I have a lot of ideas. Here it's common to see men that look about 80-90. They have no shirts on and you can see every rib, even in the middle of their chest, and the skin hangs from their limbs, once tightly stretched over the muscles of their youth. Tatoos of serial numbers or AK-47's are not uncommon on the leathery skin of these hardened souls that have seen more wars in one lifetime than 3 generations of North Americans. One evening as I sat out eating my dinner, I saw my neighbour's figure in the dusk as he sauntered out to his balcony, and I thought he was one such man. Days later I saw him come out again in the daylight and I saw his face, and it was the face of a blue-eyed westerner. This build on a westerner is not something you see around here or anywhere outside a hospital really. His face said that his body was 80 but his mind was probably in it's 30's. I could only think he must be dying. The conclusion might sound strange, but Viet Nam is not expensive to live in, and if he was starving he certainly wouldn't be paying 300 a month for rent. Then I thought he must be sick, but then why is he not in the hospital, why is he walking around? That rules out acute illness. You lose that much weight quickly and you're already dead. That leaves chronic illness, and I can't think of anything reversible that does that to you, so my conclusion was dying. His eyes have the shiny look of someone who is old beyond his years. Some mornings in traffic I see him crossing the street as I tear past on the way to school. He moves with surprising spryness, I can't figure him out. You just can't look like that and be healthy. Yesterday I sat at a joint that serves one of my favourite dishes, and the squat stool I was on had me right out on the sidewalk, and through the forest of legs I saw him coming my way. I was wearing sunglasses so I studied him discreetly, wondering and wondering. As a woman on a motorbike (in a sea of motorbikes) approached and passed him, he, without changing pace or expression, swung his closed fist behind him in a backhand and struck her right in the back. She was too busy steadying the bike from the blow to turn her head, but after she did that she looked behind her, clearly hurt and puzzled, trying to figure out who did that and why. He was walking right toward me and I timidly looked down into my bowl like I hadn't seen anything, because his jaw was set in such angry determination that I thought for sure if I stared him down the next one was coming my way, and thoughts of the cops not giving a shit who started it after I damaged his frail bones were racing through my head. I didn't want to get suckerpunched. The woman picked up a young girl, turned her bike around and rode back toward me, but the man had ducked into the alley behind me where we both live. I know not everything in life makes sense, or has a moral or reason, but I find it comforting to allocate these things, however imaginary, to most things that happen around me, but this. . . what was I supposed to do? I wanted to tell the woman I know where he lives, but she was gone in the endless stream by the time I'd decided that might be a good idea. Embarassed and the only witness to this, I finished my meal, paid, and walked home confused and feeling like a sheep. Some things are just sad. Some things are based on such a lack of understanding and empathy that they are too far gone to address. A moment like that changes two people forever. As the person that hit a stranger for no apparent reason, you become the kind of person that does that. As the person that gets hit you cannot help but equate his race with that kind of behaviour. That is an awful thing, because I don't look the same to that woman as I would have five minutes before, but when I see her I see the warm welcome that every Viet I've ever met has given me. How awful that is.

I'm going to try to see Viet Nam a little more before I leave. I am free of english classes next week. But not free of these little whippersnappers, who I teach on weekends. They're really rowdy until you give them something on paper to do, and then they turn into these guys. So, in a different light, these too are some people's children.

Today I got a good lesson on how hard westerners really get ripped around here. For most things I know the going rate and can usually get a good price, but for things you never see anyone else buy, like laptops or guitars, look out. I won't bore you with the details but I got a huge run around today trying to sell both of those items, and then ended with the best price being less than half of what I paid for the laptop a month ago and about a third the price of the guitar. Still worth it but OUCH! The Viets are so quick to tell you how much you overpaid by and how little they would have sold that item to you for if ONLY you'd come to see them, but when they're the ones selling, holy crap. Made me think of a counter scam for if I ever live in a city like this again: Grab a friend's item, say you want a guitar, borrow a friend's, go into a store and pretend you want to sell it, and when they say "Oh no no, too expensive, I sell same same guita fo only two hunned thousan." Then you say really? And offer to buy it, then you have that store on lockdown, cause once you break that barrier they never rip you off again. In a matter of weeks/days you could have a cheap source for batteries, computers, DVDs, musical shit, T shirts, you name it. If anyone ever needs this advice I hope you can use it. So this week I'm going to try to hit the north of Viet Nam, but that will be pretty tight since it's an overnight train ride away considering things need to work like clockwork when I'm actually in Ha Noi to make sure I get off smooth with not too much funny money in my pocket, but enough money. The bank, the pawn shop (read money exchange), the used laptop shop, my work, etc. Yikes, the tension is building. Then on Sunday, it's operation Red Hero. That's what Ulaanbaatar means, and that is the capital of Mongolia. It will be sad to take all the things off these walls and pack my bags again, but that is life on the road, and this is the home strech isn't it. . .

So this might be the last Viet Nam entry. Thanks Viet Nam, it's been real.

cảm ơn, và tạm biệt. . .

Hello? Pensacola?

Come in, Pensacola? I had this line from Contact in my head from this morning. Well it's still the morning. Kate and I were talking about getting 2 way radios so we could communicate, and we were debating which ones to get. Well we finally decided not to go with the bargain basement ones, because in the words of kate she didn't want to be stuck in the desert sending out futile transmissions having the only function still working on the walkie be the dead battery alert. And then I thought "Hello? Pensacola?" And then there was a joke about prime numbers, and if you haven't seen Contact I'm sorry and I'll stop now. So why were we talking about 2 way radios, and what's this about a desert? Surely Viet Nam doesn't even have a desert. No you're right, Kate's not even in Viet Nam, she's in Kuala Lumpur right now I think. Anyway the guy that lived in this little flat before me left a few things on the wall, which I like. The first one is a picture of Ho Chi Minh, which is awesome because it feels like every vietnamese living room and half the offices because of that. The second thing is a world map, which is awesome because when I am bored I look at it and just marvel at some of the countries I've never heard of and their crazy flags. Tuvalu, I'd never heard of Tuvalu. In one of these staring contests with the magna carta I laid eyes on Mongolia, and in a flash of "wait a minute, this could be my chance" (We've all had places we've 'always' wanted to visit). It was one of those "well I am sort of in the neighbourhood" moments. So then I thought, Mongolia is big and empty, I don't really want to go there by myself. I mean travelling alone is great because you are mobile and get into hilarious situations, but I was in NZ and it's small and empty, so I thought big and empty. . . companion. Not surprisingly Kate was into it, she's usually up for the most dangerous, worst sounding ideas either of us can come up with, and this is a little above riding 400 km on a motor bike along the coast of Viet Nam in one day - to get a ripped shirt back. Also this will make up for that idea we had about buying a boat and sailing/motoring 2000k down the Viet Nam coast. . . which is, I don't know if I told you this, highly illegal. Anyway Mongolia, self guided horse trek, asian steppe, mutton for breakfast lunch and dinner, yogourt, hard cheese, broken temples, grid references, topographical maps, water filter, gps, strange language, new alphabet, and yes of course: 2 way radio. Now this is happening.

After Mongolia it's home to Canada, for both of us actually, so we can be bitter, asleep, laughing or drunk at the same time on the flights home, whatever makes the situation more tolerable, each flight is different really. This shit is starting up on the 19th, so until then I'm running small missions around Ha Noi, gearing up for the trip and seeing things around the city I live in at the same time. Also trying to organize pay from the school I teach at and all that, since I'm pretty sure mongolia is NOT going to exchange Viet Nam Dong for Tugriks. ugh. So I have to find greenbacks in this town. Frogskins, as it were. And those are a BITCH to find in Ha Noi, let me tell you. I know where to get them now, but the exchange rate sucks, since it's whatever the little old lady behind the jewellery counter decides. What do you mean got to my bank? You think MY bank, ANZ, Australia New Zealand Bank, reputable international bank that is is, will give ME, their customer with a bank account, my OWN money in american currency? Don't make me laugh! I tried to get $30 out of them for my mongolian visa fee and they were like "oooohhh, no no no, we cannot give you American money, only take." Why? "Because you could take your passport and money and go to other country and. . " and then she did this little motion of someone running amok, presumably this is me running amok with $30 USD in some other country. I just wanted to yell at her and say SO WHAT!? I live in Canada, in what country am I going to go to with my CRAZY thirty dollars? I could cross the border and run amok in America, now that would really be crazy! But I didn't say that because of 2 reasons. The first reason is that there's no need to be mean to someone like that in their own country, even if the policy manager a million steps above their head, or their government, deserves it. The second reason was that this is a bank that ran a promotion where if I kept more than 2,000,000 VND in my account until june 23 I'd be eligible to win half a kilo of gold. Solid gold. Only in Asia. Also they did sucker me into that deal, and I did not win, so we're both idiots and I'm in no position to yell.

So yeah, all in the name of the Mongol empire. It's big out there, and it's pretty empty, but I'm sure there are others out there wer'll run into, I mean they've gotta be out there, "cause if we're alone, well that's an awful waste of space." Contact? ANYONE?