Random Shots.

Here is an assortment of pics from the last week.

P. and O. in the recording studio. Mixin' up some funky tracks for Smartcom.

Even by Hanoi standards, this building going up in front of our alley is narrow.
You can see the one next to it is extra wide by comparison.

One of the alleys in the maze surrounding our house leads to this
sad remnant of a stream that used to flow through the village of Ba Dinh.

Bun cha: marinated strips of pork, chargrilled, afloat in a bowl
of vinegar mixed with fish sauce and a little sugar.
Just add rice noodles, greens, herbs, bean sprouts, and chiles.
It's a hearty lunch (or dinner) for about 90 cents per person.

P. gets ready to tuck in.

A huge, beautiful park not far from our house. Today we saw at least
four weddings being photographed here.

Market Capitalism on the Streets of Hanoi.

Vietnam may be a communist country (at least nominaly), but market capitalism is rampant on the streets. I'm not talking about the relentless entrepreneurialsm of the endless array of mom-and-pop stores, but about the driving etiquette displayed by its myriads of motorists.

At first it looks like chaos, then you realize that it's a self-organizing chaos, but only gradually does the true method emerge from the madness. The first rule is that everyone must ruthlessly pursue their own self-interest without regard to what others around them are doing. So you never look back, you simply drive where you want to go, honking at anyone that gets in your way, the person behind you must adjust his trajectory accordingly. And they do. If you want to make a u-turn on an extremely busy, extremely narrow street, you simply do so, turning directly into the approaching mass of traffic, forcing them to come to a sudden, wildly honking stop. Except for the motorbikes, which are free to dart between and around the cars as best they can. If there is a foot of clearance, you simply thrust your vehicle into it before anyone else does, honking to make sure your claim is heard. If someone wedges themselves in even more aggressively, fine, you simply turn into another gap, forcing those behind you to adjust.

This is cut-throat capitalism at its best. You never give a sucker an even break. If someone is motoring down the street (or walking) and you need to pull out into traffic, you simply do so, immediately, forcing them to stop or swerve wildly (honking, of course, all the while) even if by pausing briefly to allow them to go by you would have an unobstructed path to follow in their wake.

Still, the interesting part is that there's little malice involved. If someone cuts you off egregiously, no matter, no one gets angry. It's just the way it works. And in a weird way it does work, even in the major intersections jammed with rush hour traffic, somehow everyone finds a way around everyone else and goes about their business. Some of these intersections actually have signals, and sometimes some people actually do pay attention to them, but this is unusual.

It's a marvel to behold from an air-conditioned cab, but soon we must gird our loins and hurl ourselves into the fray as actual drivers. We're not there yet, though.

On a note related only in that it involves the streets, I've been fascinated by the drainage system here. We are used to having gutters that funnel the storm runoff some distance to a storm drain. That system would not work here because when it pours, there is too much water, too fast. It would flood the street before it got to the storm drain.

So here's how it works:
Most of the streets have a drainage ditch covered by three-foot long cement blocks with gaps for the water to flow through. When it pours, the water has no opportunity to accumulate. It just sinks directly into the drain, so even in the monsoon the streets rarely flood.

P.

Yawn, Another day in Vietnam.

It's amazing how rapidly one adjusts to even a radically different environment as one as one establishes a routine within said environment.

Now I'm not saying that the thrill is gone by any means, but some things are beginning to show signs of settling down to the general vicinity of mundane.

We have our routines. Mine: up at six when the rising sun first illuminates our east-facing bedroom window, make coffee, check the net, shower, shave, walk through the maze of alleys nodding at the now-sort-of-familiar denizens of same, emerge into the honking roar of rush-hour Doi Can, hail a taxi, weave through incredibly jammed intersections about 15 minutes to the high-rise where I work on the 24th floor, say hello to the other staff, sit for three to three-and-a-half hours in front of the computer editing and rewriting questions and responses for the online portion of the school's curriculum, break for an hour-and-a-half at noon so the staff can dim the lights and sleep on my desk, return at 1:30 and continue as before until 4:30 or 5:00, take a cab home.

Yawn.

The exceptions are the evenings that I teach classes: Friday and Saturday at present. I think it will be quite a while before this settles into a routine. Facing 15-20 eager young faces, all too often furrowed by total incomprehension is terrifying and exhilirating and bloody hard work.

And then there are our days off: Sunday and Monday (although I just took on a class 4-6 on Sunday afternoon). So far they've been taken up with chores: buying necessities for the house, getting wifi installed (successfully!), trying to find out why our international cable TV package only shows Vietnamese channels (now we find out that the international portion won't be available until mid-September), etc. etc.

We are hoping to do some sightseeing in the days ahead. The B-52 museum is only a block from our house, and we haven't even been there. Sept. 2 is Inedpendence Day here so we'll have an extra day off next week. Whoo-hoo!

We'll keep you posted.

P.

...More Observations

So many things happen each day and if I don't take the time to write myself a quick note, it's gone. Here a a few thoughts and observations as we get acclimated to our new environs.

- Cell phones: Before we arrived here we were informed by informed by AT&T that we could use our old phones - all we needed were new SIM cards. Our first day here we found a cell phone store and through various gestures were able to communicate that we needed new SIM cards. No problem. Only after the new cards were installed did we discover that the phones were locked from working in this part of the world. The clerk was trying to sell us new phones; we just wanted new Sim cards. We went to about three different stores and we kept getting the same story - can't use our old phones here, need new ones. I guess we kept thinking that if we just went to enough stores, we'd get a different answer. After much discussion we decided to get the least expensive phones available so we walked into our fourth store. He looks at our phones and says, no problem, you can use. Ten dollar each, we unlock for you. So he takes our phones to the 'back room" where men (boys?) are sitting on the floor surrounded by phones and other electronics and within a few minutes we have our old phones with new Sim cards and new local phone numbers. That's the good news. The not-so-good news, and it really isn't all that bad, just inconvenient - no voice mail. We are told that voice mail for cell phones just is not available. I was explaining vm to the ladies at the hotel we first stayed at and they were amazed that such a thing could exist. So everyone texts.

- Wifi and cable: This is getting to be such a saga. I am currently waiting for the cable people to come out for the fourth time to install a wifi router and to hook up the TV. For some reason they keep sending technicians who are not knowledgeable about how to hook these things up. The drill is that I go to the cable company, try to find some who can speak a bit of English, if not, our landlord, Thong, is on standby. I usually get him on the phone, and we have a three way conversation passing the phone back and forth depending on who needs to speak. I know nothing is getting lost in the translation but still after I've rearranged my day to be home, a technician will come out and then explain that he knows nothing about wifi or television hook up!

Getting around Hanoi: There are options. Taxi, bike, motorbike, bus, on foot. Much of the city has beautiful inlaid brick sidewalks. However, there are so many motorbikes and increasingly more cars that the only place to park is the sidewalk. So if we are walking, which we do a lot, we can only walk in the street. In fact, everyone walks in the street; right along with the various vehicles. Still amazed there are so few accidents.

Depending on our schedules, P and I will be in very different parts of the city at different times. Regardless of the time of day or evening, I feel very safe and comfortable navigating Hanoi on my own.

I'm not as alarmed of the traffic as I was when I first got here. There does seem to be some structure amid the chaos. I'm also taking less taxis and more motorbikes to get around town. Not as a driver (I'm a ways from that), as a passenger, faster than a taxi and far less expensive. Took a motorbike to my class this morning, took half the time and was about a third of what I would have paid by taxi. I feel like such a local when I jump on the back of a bike.

Water: Emailed a water company yesterday to set up an account to have water delivered. No such thing as an account. Just call and they bring it over. I asked how long it might take for 3 bottles - she emails no problem, 5 minutes. I email back trying to give her my address and explain the maze of alleys to get to our house. Sure enough 5 minutes and two young guys in a motorbike arrive - these are huge bottles but they somehow manage. In fact, there is not much that we don't see on the back of a motorbike. Even seemingly impossible, awkward , or delicate items - it all gets strapped on to the bike, or there are two or more people on the bike with each holding part of the cargo.

Trash Pick Up: With 6 million plus inhabitants we've ben wondering how and where does trash get picked up. We see a very occasional trash can. Well, now that we live in a neighborhood, we know. Each day around 5:30 pm someone walks around banging on a cow bell (wish Christopher Walken could hear this - if you don't know the reference, google Christopher Walken and cow bell - it's an old SNL skit). That signals to everyone that the trash pick up is here. Everyone runs ( yes, runs) outside carrying their trash for the day to a central location ( about 100 yards from us) - there waits an old wooden rickety wagon with rottted wooden slats up the sides to hold more trash, and it all gets thrown in. It's quite efficient really. They apparently come daily so that garbage does not have time to rot and thus encourage rats, cockroaches, etc. Where it goes from here is still a mystery, although late at night we've seen some people sorting through trash for recycling purposes and a few times we saw the large dump trucks picking up big bags of garbage left on the side of the road. All this happens at night and in the morning the streets are quite clean...and it starts all over again.

Vietnamese people: In general we find the majority of the people we come in contact with friendly and helpful. Often times older men ( 70's +) will see us and they cannot smile and wave at us enough - it's quite endearing. We are getting to know the shopkeepers in our maze of alleys and we are greeted with warm smiles whenever we pass by.

We often go for days without seeing an non-Vietnamese. Sometimes we get many stares from locals who clearly have not seen many non-Asians. I smile but these usually do not smile back - just stare.

We are determined to learn the basics of the language...think we will hire a tutor. So far I write the address on a piece of paper and give it to the taxi or motor scooter driver. At first I tried to follow on a map - was helpful for orientation - amazingly we have not been 'taken for a ride'.

Food is pretty simple - most of the hole-in-the-wall places only offer one dish - their speciality. We just look at what everyone is eating and if it looks good we sit down and that dish appears before us. Really, it's not even a hole-in-the-wall. Someone is cooking on the sidewalk and there are the worlds smallest table and chairs surrounding the cook. Often times there aren't any tables either, just toddler-size plastic stools - one just sits down (knees very close to ears) and eats from their lap. Food is wonderful - fresh, beautifully spiced and very inexpensive. Mostly a couple dollars or less. Couple days ago had a fab bowl of noodles, in a rich vegetable broth with tomatoes, various veggies, stir fried tofu, fresh mint, bean sprouts, basil, lettuce and a few garlicy snails for 15,000 VNDong - one dollar is about 18,000 VNDong so the bowl of yummyness was about 90 cents!

O.

Dog Gone

As we mentioned in one of our earlier posts, when we finally came together with Thong, our landlord, he ever so casually asked if we would mind keeping his dog since the dog was used to this house and he was not able to have pets in his current home. P and I looked at each other and thought about it for half a second before we silently communicated no.

You can now see from the photos of the house that the only place for the pooch would be in the front courtyard. The thought of her pooping in what is essentially our front yard and having her pee permeate the brick did not fill us with joy. Plus, the humidity here is quite high - doggie poop and pee smells in this climate not so nice.

We informed Thong that we were really not prepared to take care of an animal and while he seemed disappointed he agreed to find someone to take the little creature.

The day we moved in, Thong sheepishly told us that he had not been able to find a new home for his dog and would we please reconsider. P and I stayed firm in our resolve , smiled, said so very sorry, but no.

Well it took a few more days but day before yesterday, Thong shows up and says some of his buddies will be here shortly to take the dog to his new home. Two men who are obviously good friends of Thong's show up on a motorscooter.

While I am wondering how they are going to transport the dog, one of the men takes a bag that is coarsely woven from plastic fibers and all three of the men proceed to grab the poor unsuspecting pooch and force her into the bag! Dog is NOT happy! Desperately trying to get out of the bag by running in circles while in the bag and howling as if she has gotten her leg caught in a vise. The men are trying to keep the dog in the bag long enough to tie a string around the top of it. Somehow they decided that one bag is not enough so they put the bagged dog in a second bag!

I am close to tears and I keep asking if the dog will be able to breathe. Oh, yes, yes, they assure me. Dog is fine. Only 30 minutes to their house.

With the second bag, they push the dog as close to the bottom of the bag as possible so she has zero room to move, they then secure her with various bungee cords and then drape her over the motorscooter with additional bungee cords and various plastic cords. Dog cannot move an iota. Has stopped howling. Reminds me of all those westerns we've seen with bodies slung over the back of a horse.

Off they ride with the dog while I continue to express concern for the dog and Thong assures me his friend loves animals, especially dogs. Thong even volunteers that his friend is a Buddhist and would never harm an animal. He seems to be assuring himself, as well as me.

Said doggie.

The House That Thong Built.

It turns out that our landlord, Thong (It's pronounced Tong. No Lewinsky jokes, please!) is a very pleasent and interesting fellow. Once we came to terms on the rent and how it would be paid, all has gone exceedingly smoothly. He helped us get our internet hooked up and has done many kind and helpful things to make sure that we are comfortable in the house.

He was a member of Vietnam's delegation to the UN in the late 80s and early 90s, lived in New York for years, and is quite cosmopolitan in his view of the world. We talked briefly about "the American War." As a university student, he was evacuated from Hanoi during the bombings. He seems to hold no grudge, which he attributes to having been taught that the American government was the enemy, not the American people. He said that most people in Vietnam are eager for closer ties with the US.

He told me that I must be about he same age as Clinton, and when I allowed that I shared a birthday with the Billster, he laughed and said, "But I think you are much kinder than Clinton!" That has now become his running line. Whenever we talk, he always manages to make some joke about how I am much kinder than Clinton. I'm not sure what that means, but I'm taking it as a compliment.

So here are the promised pictures of our house. I think you'll see why we like it.

Here is our lovely courtyard. Now without dog. O. will tell you the full story

of the little dog that could have been ours.

Here's our living room on the bottom floor. I couldn't get a
wide enough angle to show the matching rattan sofa and second chair.

The kitchen is also on this level.

And so is the dining room.

This beautiful wooden staircase was a key selling feature.
It looks narrow, but it's very wide by Vietnamese standards.

Our bedroom.

The French doors from our bedroom to the balcony.

The guest room where you will stay when you come to visit us.

The master bath. There are bathrooms on all three levels.

Our office is on the third floor. The landlord will provide another desk.
On the right wall is the family's ancestral shrine. This is always located
on the highest floor. Thong and his mother will come to pray here once a month.

Our vine-shaded deck is also on the third floor.
We are looking forward to enjoying it when the weather finally cools off.

Ba Dinh, the district where we live, used to be a famous flower-growing village just outside of Hanoi. Now, of course, it has been absorbed by the fast-growing metropolis, (it's almost exactly in the center of greater Hanoi) but back in the maze of alleys where we live, it still retains much of its village flavor, with twisting, narrow lanes and old, tree-shaded houses.

All the flower-growing plots are long gone. Housing space is at a premium in Hanoi, so everything is built vertically. At only three stories, our house is a rarity. Most houses are fifteen to twenty feet wide and seven stories tall, which looks quite odd from street level. They are fairly deep, which is why they are often called tube houses. This trend is being continued in the new urban areas that are frantically building to the west of the city. Everything there is high-rise--twenty-plus stories and very little in the way of landscaping. Not at all what we were looking for.

P.

We live on Doi Can, not Doi Can't.

These will give you some idea of where we're living.

Doi Can. The busy street in front of the alley that leads to the alley that
leads to the alley that leads to our house.

The entrance to the alley that leads to the alley that leads to the alley that leads to our house.

The entrance to the old temple on the alley that leads to the alley that leads
to the alley that leads to our house.

Still winding up the alley that leads to the alley that leads to the alley that leads to our house.

The alley that leads to the alley that leads to our house.

The alley where we live. We're way at the end. Sometimes this floods
just over ankle deep. It's barely wide enough for a scooter
and a pedestrian to coexist if they're both very careful.

And here's our house: three floors of tropical peace and quiet.
We'll post some pictures of the inside tomorrow.

Our front door. Our bedroom balcony is just above.

Our fish pond. There are some little black and white fish living there.
We are going to add some goldfish soon.

P.

Tiny Bubbles.

Don Ho may be mostly forgotten in the states, but over here he's huge under his porn star name. Almost like the French and Jerry Lewis.

Okay, we're back.

So after telling us that Tuesday would be the soonest they could get us hooked up to the internet, someone showed up mid-morning on Sunday and got us running. He was unable to install the wifi or the cable TV part of the package, but it was really the net that we craved.

Now we have no excuse not to post, I guess.

P.

It's not that we don't love you...

Probably the most distressing part of moving is being unplugged from our wifi umbilical. No wifi in our immediate neighborhood. In fact, I've seen only one Westerner on our street so far, and he seemed startled and happy to see me. Our internet service will be installed sometime between Tuesday and Thursday, but until then we're semi-incommunicado.

I'm writing this from the Rest Cafe, a wifi spot near work. Butunfortunately it's not convenient on a regular basis. Anyway, until we're reconnected, posting will be spotty at best.

It's not personal.

P.

Eating Scary Food.

So I took off early for lunch in order to interview with the school where O.'s been teaching. I have plenty of hours at Smartcom, but I hate having all my halibuts in one net.

The interview went well, got a couple teaching gigs and some tutoring hours, back on the street within 15 minutes feeling pretty pleased with myself. Now I could go back to Smartcom and grab lunch at the safe restaurant in the bottom floor of the high-rise next door: My Way (complete with supergraphics featuring the song lyrics in English), but that would be a little boring, wouldn't it?

So I sauntered as jauntily as a puffy white guy in long pants can down the street in the violent tropical sunshine, instantly soaked in sweat, looking for something new and interesting to eat. A small cafe beckoned; I went in and sat down. I turned around to find the waitress covering her mouth and looking from me to the owner as if to say: "Oh, my god, what are we going to do with this large foreigner?"

"You want something drink?"
"Ca phe (see, I do know a little Vietnamese already!) with milk."

So the coffee came, but it was iced and I was afraid, so I removed the ice as quickly as I could. Sat sipping for quite a while, no menu. Finally she asks, "You want anything else?"
"Do you have any food?"
Much consternation, rapid exchange of thoughts between waitress and owner.
"You eat Vietnamese food?"
"Sure!"
Much rummaging about in the tiny space behind the counter. Finally the owner displays a a gaily-colored package of ramen noodles and an egg. "Is this okay?

Okay, by this time even I had figured out that the place only served drinks and they were doing their best to accommodate my inscrutable Western desires. "Thank you. I'll go somewhere else."

Out into the heat again, sauntering no longer. I finally spotted a little sign reading "Banh My Hue" Hue style sandwiches. Yum. And the place is packed--always a good sign. So I presented myself to the hostess, indicating by signs: one hungry person. Soon a seat was produced, and I sat in it. Problem: the menu says nothing about sandwiches. True, everyone has huge, crusty rolls on their plates, but on closer inspection they are not sandwiches. The hostess and her assistant don't speak English, and I have less Vietnamese. "Beff," they keep saying with friendly smiles. "Beff. Steak. Beff." Okay, looking around I see everyone is eating what looks like beef fajitas, but that's not what I'm in the mood for. I scan the menu again and spot one thing I can read: "Bun Bo Hue." Beef noodles Hue-style. I point, they nod, and all is well until the steaming bowl is thrust beneath my sweaty nose.

The bowl is awash with hunks of nameless meat. Let's see: those huge chunks are either congealed blood or liver, these are either very gristle-y beef or tripe, THAT is either a snout or perhaps a kneecap, and what's this? Oh, a wafer cut pork chop. Well, let's start with that.

So you throw on the chopped onions, bean sprouts, heaps of fresh basil, pickled garlic and chiles, squeeze lime all over it and dig in.

The pork chop is good. The broth, however, is just incredibly delicious. Light, yet beefy, basilly, and limey. I sample, then gulp down the sinewy bits, even some of the, yep, that's congealed blood alright. (Actually fairly tasteless, having yielded all savor to the triumphant broth.

By the time I finish, naught remains but the three blocks of congealed blood and the kneecap thing, and I am one happy, sweat-drenched camper.

That set me back all of a buck and a half, American.

Oh, and later that afternoon, we signed the lease on the house. We move in tomorrow. Pictures to follow.

P.

How I Spent My 61st Birthday in Hanoi.

Woke up at 6:00 to a birthday email from my delightful little sister and her husband. Unfortunately, I've been battling a mild case of Uncle Ho's Revenge since yesterday, and this morning it was slightly worse, so I decided not to go to work, since the bathroom there is funky and lacking in toilet paper. The director was very understanding. He said this is usual in the first two weeks, and he had been there and done that.

Shortly after that, we got a message from Skype that we had a voicemail. It was from the Pereiras, wishing me a happy birthday. We had a great conversation with them, then got on with our day.

O. worked on her lesson plan all morning while I lay low, then in the afternoon, since I was feeling much better, we went to see a few apartments. The last one was shown to us by the agent who had found us the place we had wanted to rent, and after showing us a very nice old house (but not as nice as the first one), he told us that the landlord of the house we originally wanted was willing to work with us again!

Within moments we had reached at tentative deal, and it looks like we will get the house we wanted after all! Of course, nothing's done until it's done, so we're keeping our fingers crossed.

On the way back from looking at the last apartment, we got lost in a maze of alleys, finally emerging in an intensely crowded, narrow street that seemed to be one big market. Foolishly, we had left our cameras back at the hotel, so we couldn't document the amazing variety of delicious looking foodstuffs: flattened roasted chickens, huge chunks of juicy roasted pork, roasted ducks, every variety of vegetable and fruit, even apples (green and red) and peaches. It dwarfed the market we posted pictures from. We will definitely go back to stock our kitchen.

For dinner, we splurged on a local favorite called Green Tangerine, French/Vietnamese fusion in a beautifully restored French Colonial villa built in 1928. Lovely setting. The food was quite good. O. had a fruit gazpacho and salmon, I had duck roasted with Vietnamese spices. Overall, however, we thought it was overpriced and saw no compelling reason to return.

All in all, a pretty good birthday.

If It's Wednesday, This Must Be In Hanoi

Quite surreal as I sit my the desk in my room this morning overlooking a busy Hanoian side street, listening to someone playing the Godfather theme, hammering out my Lesson Plan for tomorrow.

O.

Aaaaarrrrrghhh

Now our potential landlord is acting squirrelly. He wants to be paid in US dollars at the market rate. We are countering that it will cost us too much in fees to exchange VN dong into US dollars for the rent and that the market rate fluctuates too much. We want to pay in dong at the more stable bank rate.

We were supposed to have a walk through this afternoon and sign the lease. He was mysteriously unavailable. We've asked out agent to start looking for more places to show us. Big bummer - we liked that house alot. Oh well...the search continues.

On a more positive note, I taught my first class this morning at a software company. Went quite well. About 22 students in their early 20's. I over prepared and had more than enough material for the 3 hours. At the end of class when I asked for feedback, one young woman slowly raised her hand and asked if we could play more games next time. Apparently the student love to play games. The director at the school who hired me (and who contracts with various companies) informed me that yes, all VN students love to play games. So games it is...I'll have to think of some for our Thurs class.

We haven't even been here two weeks - feels much longer. Already I am mostly comfortable hailing a motor scooter, donning the required helmet, hopping on the back and braving Hanoi traffic via an experienced driver. Even so, I sometimes just close my eyes. They travel headlong into opposing traffic, weaving and dodging, seemingly unaware of other drivers honking at them. We keep thinking we might rent a scooter and a bike for a month and see which one we like best for this traffic. So far we just keeping thinking about it...I don't think I'm that brave yet.

O.

To Market, To Market, To Buy A Fat...

Today we visited an open-air market near our new home and discovered all manner of deliciousness just waiting for us to start stocking up our new kitchen.

A plethora of fresh vegetables, both strange and familiar, entice us in.

If you have a scooter, it's a drive-thru.

How much is that doggie in the window?...

...The one with the stiff, roasted tail.
Well, you knew that was coming, right?

Not in the mood for mutt? How about a squad of squid?

There are also fowl, large and small.

Picking just the right crabs for tonight's crab broth.

Then we went to Big C, which is like Costco on steroids perched on top of an upscale mall, KFC and Pizza Hut.
O. had to bag her purse upon entry, presumably so she wouldn't try secreting any of the giant cucumbers in it.

Or the giant snails.

Crabs in bondage. A perennial favorite.

We can hardly wait to start shopping!

P.

"Can you speak more slow, please?"

I taught my first class last night--Business English--to a class of soaking wet 20-somethings. There was a quick downpour just as the students were arriving (I missed it by about five minutes), and they came in dripping and laughing.

The class was great, once I realized that their level of comprehension was much lower than I had expected from an intermediate business course. I introduced myself and, speaking very slowly, gave them a little background, then asked for questions.

"Can you speak more slow, please?"

Yes, I could. Over the course of the evening, once I was able to get them engaged with the case sudy we were working on, I realized that their comprehension is actually pretty good for written English. Their difficulty is with listening and speaking. This, I think is because they have mostly learned from Vietnamese teachers who may know how to read, but don't speak nearly as well.

Since I have the same difficulty in Spanish--I can read it far better than I can understand a native speaker speaking it--I have sympathy. So I realized that I have to speak slowly, in short, simple sentences, repeat multiple times, and act out definitions of the words they are having difficulty with.

It was fun.

P.

Beginning To Sign On The Dotted Line

OK, so we think we have jobs and a house. Woohoo.

Jobs: I signed a contact this morning for a part time teaching gig. I will be teaching a series of classes in "Effective Business Communication" at a local electronics business. This school has a variety of classes coming up so if I do well on this course, there's plenty more.

P and I have also contracted with another school to edit their textbooks. I will also do recordings for the audio part of the lessons. There is some talk of P and I sharing authorship credit and possibly receiving some small royalties...we'll see! P has a demo class there this evening - assuming he does well ( and of course he will), he can work as much as he wants to. I was also offered a teaching position at this school, but I am freaked out by their 25th floor location. Heights and I don't do well so I will edit (at home) and record for them and teach at the other school.

Apparently there are quite a few jobs here - just takes time to interview and to weed out the ones that are obviously flaky...hopefully we've made good choices. Time will tell.

House: This has been an experience. Do we want to live in the heart of the city? Enjoy all the small shops, the hustle and bustle, the street vendors, live next to locals, but put up with the noise and pollution?

Or do we want to choose an area that is a bit more upscale, cleaner, more foreigners, but also calmer and quieter? After looking about 35 apartments and houses we found a place that gives a bit of both. We made a low ball offer ( P mentioned this in one of his earlier posts) on a lovely home we both liked. After a bit of negotiation, the landlord came down a bit, we came up in price and we settled on a compromise that made us all happy. We are now in final negotiation regarding what is included in 'fully furnished', how soon we can move in etc.. We also have to do a walk through together. We think we might be able to move by around Thursday of this coming week.

The house, is four stories (!) with top floor room devoted to a family shrine. Most houses we saw seem to have this - part of the negotiation is allowing the family to come to the house once a year, for about half an hour, to pray and light incense. We are also allowing the Grandmother to come every full moon to pray for her husband. Of course they have to let us know in advance and we schedule it. What we are not allowing is having their dog live with us! Small and cute, but no.

To reach the house, we walk through a maze of alleyways ( no cars, just motorbikes, bicycles and people on foot) for about one and a half minutes - it's far enough from a busy downtown street ( with all the street vendors and locals) to offer a very quiet atmosphere. The alleyways are full of little shops; so far we've seen a beauty shop, a tailor and a very welcoming beer stand. It is surrounded by mature trees so there is plenty of shade and privacy. We have a plant enclosed terrace AND, there is plenty of room for visitors.

When we go back to sign the lease, we'll take pictures. We'll also take some pics of where we are going to be working.

A few random observations/ experiences:

-Many grown men have one thumbnail quite long. We're told it is the fashion, no meaning (?)

-At a funky hole-in-the-wall restaurant ( fab food, very inexpensive, we were the only non-Vietnamese) I was having a bit of difficulty picking up my sticky vermicelli with my chopsticks - everything kept sticking together ( duh, that's the name!). Just as I was going to use my fingers, one of the servers rushes over with a pair of scissors and cuts the noodles for me. When anyone finishes eating, any food stuff left on the table is cleaned right on to the floor to make way for the next patron.

-Finally saw my first rat. I say finally because I've been looking - you'd think in a city with over 6 million people there would be more visible - can't imagine they're that shy. They're lurking.

- Very few mosquitoes - so far no creepy crawlies of any kind. I'll enjoy this while it lasts.

O.

When it rains, it pours.

Every day for the past two months the weather forecast has been the same here: scattered thunderstorms with 60% chance of rain. We have now been here five days (seems like weeks) and, in spite of this forecast, it has not rained a drop. One evening we did hear a couple distant peals of thunder, but that was it. And August is supposed to be the wettest month of the rainy season.

So today we met Phuong of Golden Ant Housing on the west side of town to look at a couple apartments. She and an associate arrived on scooters and invited us to hop on, which we did.

At that very moment there was an immense clap of thunder and a monsoonal deluge descended on us. We were fairly drenched before we could get off the bikes and run to the nearest building for shelter. Most the other bikers just pull over, put on rain slickers and continue.

After about 15 minutes, the rain lessened and we decided to chance it ourselves.

Seeking shelter from the storm.

In minutes the streets are inches deep in water.

We surfed down the slick streets, no one making much allowance for wet conditions. Phuong stopped and bought us blue plastic slickers so we wouldn't get completely soaked. The apartments were nice, but not what we were looking for, but you couldn't have asked for a more exciting introduction to riding a scooter in Hanoi traffic.

Job/Housing Update: We have had several excellent interviews. Tomorrow, we return to meet the director of one school and pick up some editing work that they have for us. Our first paying work! P. teaches a demo class at the same school on Saturday evening, and if that goes well they have assured us that they have plenty of work for us. A couple other schools claim to have classes for us, but these are more squishy. One wants O. to teach a demo class next week, so we'll see.

We found a lovely, big house that we made a low-ball offer on, but haven't heard a reply on yet. So we're getting close, but still not settled. You'll know more when we do.

Reflections on an Incredibly Compressed Four Days.

Hanoi is loud, polluted, frenzied, yet calm and beautiful. We are exhilarated and terrified, scandalized and fascinated, repelled and intrigued. It has only been four days, but it seems far longer. There are so many new sights and situations to process that time seems incredibly compressed. It's hard to comprehend that this will be our life for at least a year. And that we will probably find that which now seems exotic will become mundane, the amusing turn annoying, and people and things we don't yet know exist become fond parts of our lives.

We post these pictures to give you an idea of how rich and strange it all is, but really it's the on-going context, the texture of life between the snaps that make this such a wild and lovely journey.

And that you'll just have to come here and experience for yourselves. We hope.

Hanoi is a tranquil city of lakes and trees as well as a frentic streetscape of motor scooters.

The Buttocks of a Dog Return!

Or in this case the buns of a dog.

Now I love few things better than a steamed pork bun, so when I saw a shelf of them at a local bakery, I went over to check them out. Banh Cha. Pork buns. Yum. And the next shelf down: Banh Thit Cho--dog meat buns. They looked ever so delicious, but I managed to resist.

But here's the thing--to the Vietnamese eating dog is good luck, and it's a specialty that is sought out especially when old friends meet.

I'm just saying, it's what's for dinner when you come visit us. It's the culturally respectful thing to do.

Wired World.

Maybe because the ground is so saturated with water (there are seven or eight major lakes in Hanoi, and the whole city is tucked into a bend of the Red River) all the electrical and communications wires are hung from poles, trees, and the sides of buildings. It looks like an accident waiting to happen, but it seems to work.

The street outside our hotel is festooned with wires.

Beautiful old temple and modern office building alike are girded by a rat's nest of cable.

Of course, without them you wouldn't be reading this wonderful blog. So there's that.

To Live and Work in Ha Noi

The past couple days have been a combination of looking at apartments and going on our first interviews.

An agent will meet us at our hotel on a scooter, we hail a taxi and off we go thru the streets and alleys looking at potential places to live.  The alleys are quite extensive and complicated.  Even with a map we often times have a bit of difficulty following the route.  We both get excited when we recognize a street or a landmark.  The streets and alleys all look remarkably alike.

We've seen many apartments but none that have spoken to us.  Well, that's not completely true:  there was one in our price range but it was too far from where we want to be.  Most apartments are small compared to US standards;  that's ok with us.   We just want clean, centrally located, AC, internet access and not in a high rise building.  The search continues.

We've had two job interviews.  Both went well and we'll return tomorrow for a second interview with one of them, as well as go on two others.  Busy day tomorrow:  a 9 o'clock, lunch with another school and a 2:30.

We misunderstood  the time for one of them;  we were getting ready to leave our hotel for an afternoon of sightseeing when we received a call from the reception desk that someone was waiting for us downstairs.  We were definitely not dressed for an interview, however, we were told that was OK since we were just going to tour the school today and meet with the director tomorrow.  So we got into a waiting car and only went a couple blocks when a phone call came through that the principal would like to meet us.  It was then explained to us that the principal is a very traditional man and that it would be better if we returned to the hotel to change clothes ( we were wearing shorts and tees).

When we arrived at the school, we were met by their Marketing Director who escorted us to a room where an old Vietnamese man complete with long white hair and a long white beard was waiting for us at a table set with a large teapot and very small cups and saucers.  Through an interpreter, we enjoyed tea and conversation with Mr. Ngoc ( impossible to pronounce) for about an hour.  He turned out be to very congenial with a quick mind and a sharp sense of humor.  Mr. Ngoc was a mathematics teacher at the university level for many years.  When he retired about 20 years ago, he was one of the first ones to open a private school to teach English to students.  They currently have three locations and are building a very modern school to consolidate the three locations;  it will be ready in about a year or so.

We'll meet with their director tomorrow.

O.

You Meet The Nicest People on a Honda.

6 million people in Hanoi, most of them on scooters. And the rules are: every man, woman, and child for themselves. Sure there are one-way streets, but that doesn't mean you can't go the other way if you want to. It's self-organizing chaos and not for the faint of heart.

Even the youngest feel the need for speed.

Mom, baby, and Ultraman balloon on their way to a party.

When baby's a little older, he can stand up and look around.

Unfortunately, this didn't come out. There is an infant standing between her mama's legs, hanging on with practiced skill, while mom is texting and weaving adroitly through the throng. Now that takes coordination!

Who doesn't desire peace, love, and crabs?

Check out those heels. In case you were wonder what to pack for your trip to Hanoi. We're looking at you, Eileen!