Pleasant Goat--The Super Adventure!

Last Sunday, we met the couple that owns one of the schools where O. teaches for dinner. They first took us shopping for plants. Patrick is Canadian and Lan Anh's Vietnamese, so she did all the bargaining. We got a lot of plants for very little money. Lan Anh said she could have gotten much better prices if she hadn't obviously been buying for rich foreigners, but we were quite pleased.

P., Patrick, and Lan Anh watch as the plants are readied for delivery.

All the plants, some 4-5 feet tall, were crammed on the back of a motorbike, delivered to our house and positioned in their appropriate spots for a couple bucks extra. Then we all went out for a delicious dinner of BBQed goat and goat hot pot, cooled by a continuous flow of iced beer.

And speaking of goats, I'm continually amused by my female students and their cartoon character fetish. There's Hello Kitty, of course, all the Disney princesses, and surprisingly, Tom and Jerry, which is monster here. Or not so surprisingly if you read Jerry as Vietnam and Tom as any of the large countries that have tried to devour it.

Anyway, almost all of them carry cartoon character pencil boxes, and I've been pleased, as a huge Miyazaki fan, to see several Totoro pencil boxes. But last night, one of them had the best pencil box ever:

Pleasant Goat !

It's worth a click.

P.

Under Construction.

The peace and quiet of our little enclave has been disrupted over the last two weeks by workers tearing down the house next door. Every morning at the stroke of 7:00 the jackhammers start pounding. I think they've finally finished, but it was an ordeal.

Where the house once stood.

It's interesting watching the construction process here. Since nothing bigger than a motorbike can fit down the alley, everything must be transported by push cart or motorbike or bicycle.

Every bit of rubble is bagged and put on a hand cart
or a specially rigged bicycle and wheeled out to the main street.

All new construction materials are brought in in the same way.

These pedicabs (note the wood-block pedals) at the front of the alley are hired
by people who arrive at the alley in a cab with lots of packages.
They and their goods are then pedaled to their home.

They even have small cement mixers built onto the back of a tricycle motorbike. The workers come from small villages nearby, lured the princely wages of 150,000 dong per day (about $8.50), far more than they could earn at home.

They set up a little plastic tarp dwelling just off the main street, and there they live for the duration.

They also stack all the bricks and other construction materials right on the street.

They throw down a few wooden shipping pallets for beds. For power, they stretch an extension cord to the closest house or shop. Where they bathe and go to the bathroom we're unsure, but they probably have an arrangement with someone in the neighborhood.

Laundry is also done on the premises.

Once they basic structure is up, they will move into the empty shell until the place is finished. It's quite a process.

In all but the very biggest high-rises, supports are simple wooden poles.

Rudimentary by our standards, but it gets done quickly and to everyone's satisfaction.

P.

The View From A Height.

Here's a perspective of Hanoi, we haven't seen before. From the top of the Sofitel Plaza.




P.

Working Without A Net.

Or a ladder. Telecom and electrical workers don't need no stinkin' safety equipment!

P.

Scary Foods 3--Fish Bones, Xuc Xich, and Fried Crap.

Bia Hoi--fresh beer--is a Hanoi staple, mainly for men. There are little bia hoi spots on every block. All it takes is a cold keg or two of bia hoi, which is brewed daily without preservatives and low (about 4.5%) alcohol, some tiny plastic chairs, a few tables, lots of peanuts, and usually a few kinds of bar food.

We've been wanting to try it, but none of the places looked very inviting. So when we heard that there was an upscale bia hoi garden near us, we decided make it our next stop for lunch.

Nice setting with lots of trees. We didn't get there until almost 1:00,
so the lunch crowd was thinning out.

The guys toward the back were celebrating something.
Lots of red-faced toasts and hugging.

The beer was light and refreshing. The menu was extensive. They had beef, chicken, pork, duck, rabbit, and fish. One menu item in particular caught our eyes: fried crap. Probably the ultimate in scary foods. Also fried crap with salted vegetables. I'm not sure the vegetables help.

We had heard that the place had great sausages, and since we were feeling Oktoberfestive, we searched the menu for them, in vain. I dimly remembered that I had seen something on another menu last month that I had thought was sausage because of the way it would be pronounced in Vietnamese: xu xich (x's pronounced s), so I tried saying it several ways to our waitress. "Soup?" she asked brightly. No, not soup. I tried again. "Soup seech?" she asked. Please spell, I asked, knowing I'd recognize it if I saw it. Xuc xich, she wrote. "Yes." I said. "Two."

And sausage it was. While we were hoping for a garlicky, spicy sort of wurst, we got a tasty sort of weisse wurst, mild, but good, that had been dipped in a thin batter and fried. Slathered with Dijon mustard, it was quite delicious, but the gingery, minty banana flower salad and the morning glory greens sauteed in a ton of garlic were even better.

Casual restaurants in Vietnam are very casual.
Everyone just throws their trash on the floor.
Fish bones, peanut shells, dirty napkins, cigarette butts.
The staff will sweep it up after everyone leaves.

P.

The Old Soft Sell.

Yesterday afternoon I made my big presentation to VietSoftware International, the Vietnamese company where I'm working part-time as Senior Business Development Manager. They were very impressed with my market research, positioning recommendations, and ideas for helping them sell their services to the U.S. market. So impressed that they had their company car and driver take me across town through rush hour traffic so I wouldn't be late for my Tuesday night class.

Now I'm working to revise their web site, helping their staff increase the fluency in English and American business practices, and contacting possible prospects. Tom Halle was extremely helpful in making the presentation such a success. His generosity with his time and his expertise added immense value.

Thanks, Tom.

So if you know anyone at any company who needs quality software testing or development, mobile apps (iPhone or otherwise), or web site production done fast and cheap (Bisquiat?) please email me at peter.kuhlman@vsi-international.com

Thanks, P.

The View from Long Bien Bridge.

Long Bien Bridge is a Hanoi icon. Built in 1899 by Gustav Eiffel (yes, that Gustav Eiffel), it spans the entire Red River, about a mile. It is still used by trains on a regular basis. When we heard that is was the site of an annual art show, we decided to check it out.

The bridge is not very pretty and is not kept up cosmetically. Rather rusty and industrial.

The view initially isn't much, either.

Creative use of old movie posters.

Then the misty beauty of the river appears.

These water lilies are some of our favorite greens, stir-fried with garlic.

The fertile soil supports a myriad of small farms. Corn, banana, squash, melon,
and more. All harvested and packed by hand and driven into town by motorbike.

The bridge had been decked out as one long art gallery. What we had not expected
was that almost all the paintings and drawings were of the bridge itself.
What part of Long Bien Bridge Art Festival didn't we understand?

The art was mostly not so great, but then there were these beautiful handmade kites.

Strange and colorful shapes decorated the far end of the bridge.

It was like a Miro painting brought to life.

What we didn't realize was that as industrial and rundown as the bridge seemed
to us, it is revered as one of the most romantic places in Hanoi.
Paeans to its loveliness were everywhere.

And it is apparently a required site for wedding photos.
We saw at least five or six couples in full regalia dodging
the frequent trains to be photographed on the tracks.

Yet another strange facet of this odd and lovely city.

P.

Turning 60 in Hanoi.

Although my birthday was a few days ago, I delayed the posting because I was waiting for some pictures that some of my students took. Alas, I am still waiting so here is the post sans their pictures. Hopefully they will be posted at a later date.

One of the first things I do each morning is check email. Peter, of course, knows this, so he made sure that my 60^th birthday poem was waiting for me in my inbox. For those of you who may not know, Peter is a gifted poet. I have a binder full of poems that Peter has penned for me over the years and on my birthday morning, I added another one.

Next, I received B-day voicemails from my daughter, son and their families. They were trying to conference Skype to sing to me but Peter and I were having a sleep-in and missed their call. Still, it made my heart happy to hear all their voices singing.

I wanted to do some sightseeing ( still so much of Hanoi we haven’t seen), so we headed out to the Temple of Literature. This is the site of Hanoi's first university, founded in 1076.

Beautiful, tranquil grounds with lovely buildings.

Fanciful roof-lines.

Huge, old trees.

Monkeys.

And dragons (blue because Vietnam is the Land of the Blue Dragon).

And turtles (a symbol of scholarship and sagacity).

Oh, my!

Even birds with turtles.

Then we walked to the prison once known as the "Hanoi Hilton."

This was built by the French for political prisoners in the late 1800s, and held Communist rebels until the mid-fifties, so it is quite a shrine to the revolutionary struggle. Very little mention of the American prisoners who took their place. Most of the once-sprawling prison is gone; in its place is one of Hanoi's higher-end high-rises.

By this time our dogs were past merely barking, so we went home for a rest. We ventured forth in the cool of the evening, had a delightful meal at one of the best restaurants in Hanoi. A truly stellar meal. Easily the best we've had since coming here.

This, I thought, was a fine way to spend my birthday.

But wait, there was more to come.

When I arrived at school on Monday evening, I was greeted by my employers with a huge bouquet of white roses. When I walked into my first class, they presented me with gifts and red roses and sang Happy B-day to me. Apparently the tradition is then for the birthday person to sing a song back. My voice is for the shower only; so after making them all promise that laughter would be kept to a minimum, I bravely broke out in “Yesterday”. Fortunately for me they all started singing with me so my feeble voice was not really heard.

I have a 15 minute break before my next class. Usually the owner of the school will come into my class and chat with me between classes so I was not surprised to see him peek his head in the door. He informed me that my next class was waiting for me downstairs. As I started to leave the classroom he suggested that I take all my belongings with me as I would not be teaching my next class and would not be coming back upstairs. What? I asked; he said, sorry, I can’t tell you anymore than that.

So I gathered my flowers and gifts and as I walked down the stairs my next class broke out in applause and cheers. They also gave me flowers; this time beautiful long-stemmed yellow roses. One of my students explained that yellow roses are very special and are only given to parents and highly-esteemed teachers!

After opening a few more gifts, we all climbed onto motorbikes and I was taken out for a wonderful Vietnamese feast. It was quite the sight to see a line of motorbikes – most carrying bouquets of flowers so that, as I was told, all could see that this was a special occasion. Oh my, the food. The dishes just kept coming and as the honoree, I had to try everything first. A different dish would be served and I would be given a portion while everyone looked on.

Afterwards, some of my students insisted on bringing me home; so once again we all took to the streets on motorbikes, flowers in hand and headed to our home. I quickly called Peter to alert him that we would all be descending upon the house in just a few minutes. Everyone stayed for about an hour; I then went to bed and slept soundly.

Here's the group who took me to dinner.

A great birthday.

O.