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thích nhà rất cũ - I like very old house, 100, 200, 500 years old is ok.
Sáng Sủa - light
nhiều cửa sổ - lots of windows

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"...crying, she said, '...you only blog when you want something!'"

Many expatriates share the experience that every day is different in Vietnam. So keeping up with a blog requires a full staff. Here are some notes of the rest of the Year of the Dog.

After a summer in Hawaii and the US Mainland, with tours of Toronto, New York, Portland, San Francisco, Boise, and McCall, Idaho, I came back to Vietnam in mid-August.

Back in Hanoi in the fall, I created a Vietnamese Joint Stock company called Leonito Brand Communications with a Vietnamese friend. Then we became partners with a WPP company, Grey Global Group Vietnam. For diversification, I have a few other business ventures trudging along, not related to communications, including agent for plastic manufacturing and apparrel, and an idea for a retail store I'm hashing out with a friend.

Our first project after restructuring PonyBob and creating Leonito Brand Communications was to do all communications for Hanoi International Theatre Society's latest production: LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS. As a result, we had sell-out crowds every night of the show.

Our first project after joining with Grey Global Group was to manage public relations for their regional management conference and manage the launch event for Grey Global Group operations in Vietnam.




Pictured here is the decorated Reunification Palace in Ho Chi Minh City, where our Hanoi team produced a gala event for Grey Global Group partners, global executives, and VIP guests to officially launch Grey Global Group in Vietnam.

I plan to add entries here for some experiences in and around Vietnam, Fall trip to Siem Riep, a Christmas trip to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, and Tet 2007 non-work related activity. More coming soon...

Click to see more photos.

At the port, we boarded the ferry and one hour later we pulled into Cat Ba bay, passing between hundreds of small fishing boats as we approached the dock. We walked to our hotel and began a lovely four day, three night vacation on an island with nothing more to do the eat seafood, drink coconut juice, and relax on the beach.

The Vietnamese tend to do everything together. Early in the morning the beach is desolate. Then, it gets very busy until about 11:30 AM. It is deserted during the time everybody eats lunch back in their hotels. Vietnamese are not at all fond of having a suntan, so they come back to the beach late in the afternoon, almost as the sun is setting, and swim until dark. All of them come at once. Thousands decend down stairs to a small beach to swim, bury eachother in the sand, splash, chase, and otherwise enjoy the beach with bounding energy. The general population is quite modest in dress. Vietnamese ladies wear skirt-bottom suits. Vietnamese men wear underwear under swimsuits. You ask how do I know? Well it's quite obvious, often, the underwear is larger than the bathing suit!

We took some time one day to kayak, and another to ride motorbikes around the island. It contains a national park with rare monkey and cat-like animals. For dinner one can take a small boat to any one of many floating restaurants for fresh from the bay seafood. We had a feast of seafood every day and night.

This festival teaches people to come home to visit their parents, pay respect to them, and usually bring them a small gift. Mother and Father have given to their children so much, and this is the time that children show them that they recognize their parents' favor. People also visit their older neighbors to keep the good relationships and to pay respect to the elders around the neighborhood. (Source: Wikipedia)

Of course no stay in Bangkok is complete until you go to Bed...the Bed Supper Club, that is.

Vietnamese often drive with their thumbs above the handlebars on the scooter; their hands always seem relaxed as they ride along smoking a cigarette with one hand. I hypothesized that my thumb went numb after only 30 km of driving because I held it under the handlebar in a terror-grip. Clouds of dust and diesel exhaust, led my passenger and friend, Tin, to lean into me, pressing his face between my shoulder blades. This extra weight on the arms cut off circulation to my thumb.

We were driving in and around Hue for a few days over two weekends. Sites included what my friend called his "secret garden," Lang Gia Long, an old imperial tomb, and the surrounding rice fields dotted with old American war era watch towers.

Outside of Hue we headed down Highway 1 to Suoi Voi "Elephant springs" for a quick and cool dip. Then on to Lang Co beach for the night. The morning took us up Deo Hai Van, a high mountain pass essentially separating north and South Vietnam in geology, climate, and perhaps even politics. This is where we stopped. We took in the view, climbed over old French and American gunnery towers, bunkers, and watch towers, evaded postcard peddlers and then coasted, motor off, back down to sea-level. We took some photos of the Reunification Express, the daily passenger train connecting Saigon with Hanoi, as it puffed towards a tunnel on its way south, and through the mountain. Most cars and trucks also take a tunnel. The mountain pass road is now just for tourists to see the vista. Travel time to Da Nang was cut by one hour after the construction of the tunnel.

The Ninh Binh province, covered with limestone mountains, is often called the “inland Halong Bay.” We drove on narrow roads through the rice fields of Tam Coc, between mountains which form thousands of valleys beneath towers of enchanting limestone. We found ourselves at the primary tourist point for visiting these mountains on the seventieth anniversary of the Communist Youth Party, so busloads of children were visiting their places of national treasure and heritage, Tam Coc, included.

Further north towards Hanoi is a province where hundreds of Catholic churches rest like anchored grey ships in an ocean of green fields of rice. The efforts of missionaries were concentrated in this area, and now Vietnamese-Americans support the up-keep of old churches, and the building of new churches. We toured several villages in this area to photograph some of the churches. Our visit ended at Phat Diem, a complex of cathedrals, essentially marking the seat of Roman Catholicism in Vietnam.

See more photos and access my albums by clicking on any above. All of them, save photos of my friend Tin, were taken by Tin.

Vientiane is a small city on the bank of the Mekong River, bordering Laos and Thailand. Upon arrival, we rented bicycles having suspicious ticks and near-flat tires and we rode slowly through the town. The evening found us on the river's sandy edge, with a group of local boys, a guitar, and a case of beer.

At this time of year, the river is at its lowest. This leaves a wide, endlessly long sandy playground for football, motorbikes and barbeque, and also acres of rich-soil for farmers to plant.

Further south, on the Gulf of Thailand, a tiny Cambodian town called Kep rests in near-ruins. It reminds me of inner city Detroit, with burned out mansions, never reclaimed or rebuilt, only here the deeply insecure Pol Pot exterminated or chased away the owners. Now vine-covered and decaying, these French colonial villas line a gentle curving seaside. The palm-lined beach has a few long-tail boats rocking, half in, half out of a gentle surf. Wading men toss small nets. Women cook fish on charcoal in small glowing stoves in the beached boats. Just north of this activity, a half-dozen wooden shacks stand on stilts waiting for hungry travelers like us. The shacks double as homes and restaurants; babies swing in hammocks, squid sizzles in woks, tourists eat at wooden tables, and wormy cats wander between stacks of beer crates.

Due west along the Gulf, three hours of red dirt roads and Japanese-sponsored bridge projects lead to Sihanoukville. We checked in to a bungalow hotel, fell asleep and woke up to noises and bugs, so we paid the six dollar a night bill, and called the Sokha Resort to come rescue us. We swam in acres of blue pools, kayaked, jet-skied, and after the latest possible late check out, we had Khmer massage in the adjacent hotel spa. Heavenly luxury and careless fun did not prepare us in any way to feel good when we encountered so many battered, hungry and filthily clothed children in Phnom Penh's public markets

Back in Phnom Penh, an afternoon was spent kissing babies, patting mothers, and handing 500 Riel notes to children while wandering the labyrinthine central market.

From Phnom Penh to Siem Riep a jet-boat ferry runs. It sounds convenient enough on the brochure, but riding atop a jet engine with a few seats in the front part of its cowl is deafening and cramped. Life along the Mekong passed by at 40 knots for over six hours of kerosene burning madness. Our human fuel: two baguettes, four cans of beer, and 5mg of Valium. Jet-boat passengers transfer to a wooden long-tail boat for a ride up a muddy side stream. We pushed through a floating city of fishermen and women, and passed by a floating elementary school with attached floating basketball court for their endless reproduction.

Siem Riep is near the Angkor temple complex, a complex of temples dating from the 9th to the 15th century. The temples have created something of a tourist town in Siem Reap. Temple-opulent hotels from Raffles to Hotel de la Paix for the jet-set line the road to Angkor. In the back alleys, mosquito-ridden bungalows provide sleeping spaces for all everlasting bohemians with Nikon cameras and all wide-eyed backpacker couples with “Let's Go!” books and maps tucked in their fanny sack.

An early dawn visit to the temples found us enjoying the orangest sun reflecting light off the decaying Angkor Wat's ornate decadence. A few horses, completely unimpressed by the Wat, grazed in the surrounding grass. Monks in robes rested on the temple steps, enduring sun-up to sun-down photography by thousands of temple visitors who offer subdued hand waves to indicate "thanks for letting me sheepishly take your picture, you cute little monks.”

An article about human trafficking in Cambodia can be read in Mother Jones.

This morning, a Vietnamese friend came over and invited me to breakfast. I was a bit under the weather, tired from being up until 3:00 AM writing for a client. I felt like eating eggs and toast and drinking a tank of coffee.

I suggested, "How about Western food?" Envisioning eating a large, white plate of fluffy eggs with a silver fork while on the garden patio at the Goethe (German Cultural) Institute. My friend's answer: a definitive, "No. How about leech soup?" We walk on for a moment, while I process how to respond. My inner thoughts go from "don't be a wimp" to "absolutely not" to "I wonder if I could get the leeches on the side."

"Hmmm. They don't smell fishy. I'll try a couple," I think to myself. So I put five or six into the clear broth full of vegetables. Quite tasty. Crunchy oustide, gummy inside. Yummi, Gummi Leeches. We finished up and walked back to my home, just around the corner. “I just ate leech!” I felt kind of proud of being extra-adventurous today.

Later, at my house, another friend who is Vietnamese-American and my breakfast friend I were talking. I proudly announced I ate baby leeches for breakfast. “Leeches?! People don't eat leech in Vietnam.”
“Oh sure they do, I had them for breakfast. They are little deep-fried fried black things about the size of a green-bean,” I replied.

He started laughing uncontrollably and corrected the translation of my breakfast friend, “You had fried baby EEL!” I was disappointed and relieved all at once. But then, baby eel? Ew! For those not used to eating Sushi in the west, eel and leech are in the same bucket of beyond-gross foods. For me, at least now, I am used to eating large eel from eating tons of BBQ eel in sushi, and medium eel in Saigon, and now, I think I could eat leech if it were served, just because I ate a whole plate of them already today.

Today I was squatting in the kitchen area of the yard at my friends house having some Nestle 3-in-1. A small cat was sleeping under my chair. I asked my friend's Grandmother in Vietnamese if she liked cats. She replied with an emphatic yes. Then she continued, "baby cats are not tasty." And added, "big cats are very tasty."

Today another friend of mine, Tin, took his aunts, uncles, and cousins visiting from the country side to an ice cream shop. It was their first experience with ice cream. His 21 year old cousin asked him if she could take her ice cream cone home--that is 100km by bus or train to the south of Hanoi. She did not know yet that ice cream melts. Tin's mother was along, and she said she remembered her first ice cream bar as a child in Hanoi, enjoyed on a hot day. The frost was wafting like smoke from the ice cream. She blew on it for a long time thinking it was too hot to eat.

Tin and I had some good fun today sharing our stories about Vietnam country people. They are so charming and innocent.

Tet week begins with "Ong Tao" day, the 23rd of
the 12th month, corresponding to our January 22nd. Ong Tao is a
kitchen god, and is offered a meal, then sent on his way to the sky on
three fish. The meal is placed in front of the family altar, then the
family burns some fake money and a fancy paper suit for Ong Tao in an
area outside their door, usually on the sidewalk. My friend Hung's
family had quite a bonfire. Later, after the family eats the food that
Ong Tao suspiciously did not consume, the three fish are toted in a
bag or bucket to a lake or river and released for him to ride on.

The same day they prepared Banh Chung, large cakes of sticky rice
surrounding pork wrapped in banana leaves, and boiled for 12 hours.
The fun history of the cake can be read online: Google "Banh Chung."
We received several Banh Chung cakes throughout the week as gifts. The
Bang Chung is like the proverbial Fruit Cake, people give them twice
sometimes, but at least they are edible, unlike Fruit Cake in my
opinion.

Before, during, and after New Years Day, families have many special
meals, eating finer cuts of meat and other delicacies. In adapted
tradition, Jenny and I had three meals, I had a duck lunch with some
of my teacher's friends, and Jenny and I had some of her work people
over for two meals. We introduced the Vietnamese to String Mozarella
Cheese. They were truly amazed...like I said we adapted the tradition.
We don't know how to make Bang Chung!

On New Years Eve, the family rang in the New Year by going to the
temple to offer lucky money. We watched fireworks from the roof of
Hung's house. They have big fireworks shows over the larger lakes. We
stayed up until about 3 am with various visits to temples.

New Years Day starts early with each house preparing a large
breakfast. The first family to finish invites the nearby extended
family to join them for the meal. Then successively throughout the
day, people go from house to house eating the prepared meals. Small,
red paper envelopes of lucky money are traded, especially from adults
to children and grandparents. An envelope contains 10,000 to 50,000
Dong, or $1 to $3. A band of twelve of Hung's cousins, uncles, aunts,
nieces and nephews and I visited five houses in his neighborhood,
where his family lives. At mealtimes, we sit together in a circle on
the floor and eat the meal. Between mealtimes, we enter the house, sit
down and have beer or liquor, candy, tobacco in water pipes, and nuts.

Because I'm a novelty in the mix, I get asked these five questions at
every single house: Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have a
wife? Do you want a Vietnamese wife? Why are you not married, and yet
so old? After a while, it wears on you! I really feel like telling
people I am married, but I am strict on telling the truth no matter
what the social cost!

Later, on New Years day, Hung and I drove two hours by motorbike due
South to visit Hung's girlfriend's family in Nam Dinh province. We had
more meals and more house visits. After spending the night in Nam
Dinh, I started to feel a bit crazy and out of my element. I told Hung
to take me home. I needed freedom from the Five Questions, the use of
a normal toilet, to take a shower with hot pressurized water, and eat
something on flat plate with a fork.

Throughout the week people travel to visit houses of friends and
relatives. In the same manner, each visit consists of siting down,
drinking liquor, smoking, eating candy, and talking just a bit. Each
visit is short, only 15 minutes or so.

I am glad I came back for Tet, and that I stayed in Hanoi, but I
understand now why all my Expat friends took off to do Western things
like party down at resorts in Malaysia, or go shopping in Bangkok.
Chuc mung nam moi! (Best Wishes for the New Year!)

The article he wrote is linked here.

For New Years Eve, I was invited to a friends house to have Lau, or "hot-pot" not unlike sukiyaki or fondue. We successively add meats and vegetables to a pot of boiling broth on a table-top gas burner.

After a leisurely Lau with seven friends, we headed back to my place for coffee and champagne to toast in the New Year.

Today finds me in Bangkok, relaxing in the Royal Orchid Lounge. I have a long layover before heading to Los Angeles and eventually Portland and San Francisco.

I'm headed back to the US to celebrate my Grandma Everhart's 90th birthday in Menlo Park. I'll come right back to Hanoi to celebrate Tet or Chinese New Year with my friends. We are driving motorbikes to the port city of Hai Phong, about 100 KM from Hanoi.

Vietnamese Santas are quite skinny and have brown skin. Santa costumes
are popular, and are seen zipping around town on motor scooters. Some
people have decorated trees in thier home, but I heard from friends
that most do not; they experience the decorations when out shopping
and eating.

Some of my friends asked me what Christmas means to an American. My
friend Lam who is a newspaper reporter asked me a bunch of questions,
including how Jesus' birthday related to Santa, various religions,
etc. The next day, I was in a news column. I have no idea what he
wrote; it's all in Vietnamese. He published photos of me hanging an
ornaments on a tree. I thought he was just asking for fun and taking
pictures for fun. Nobody is safe around a reporter!

Christmas Eve is a big party night. Many people go to dinners and
parties. The main road off my alley was solid traffic until about
10:00 PM. Packs of friends on scooters kept coming up my alley looking
for parties. My street has a similar name to another street, so people
came down and turned around. I had a Christmas party for about 25
people. Over the past week we prepared by getting food and supplies,
decorating, getting the plastic tree up, hanging ribbon, lights and
ornaments everywhere. My friends were happy to have a cozy place to be
on Christmas Eve. They took over the kitchen and made Vietnamese food,
and home made-hot apple cider with spices. We listened to music, ate,
drank cider and had a white elephant gift exchange.

On Christmas day, I joined about 20 other expats at Nancy's two-turkey
traditional American dinner at her house. At six I rolled home.

Happy Holidays!

This is going way too slow. Forget about last night. Forget about being unemployed. I am presently seated in Seat 4F in United First. I've just enjoyed an ice cream sundae with hot fudge and whipped cream. How do the regulars resist these temptations? I mean champagne when you sit, cocktails as soon as the flight attendants can get up, and then wines, cordials, liquors, and coffee. Not to mention bacon wrapped this and heavy sauces drizzled over everything. It's enough to make you want to run back to Economy and eat a dry chicken cutlet with rice. The seat is worth it: wide, with all kinds of adujstments, levers, flip out trays, lights, lumbar rollers, leg rests, audio and video and storage pockets. Its like sitting on a Swiss Army knife, minus the uncomfortable prospect of that idea. I'm sick of reading books and watching videos, so now I'm writing my first entry in this web log. It is still a chair. OK that's it for now.

Left SFO with mixed feelings. 14 hours later touched down in Hong Kong like a feather. Basic airport routine: transit door, re-screen, departure gates. I checked the map for the location of the Red Carpet Club. After a bit of a hike and an escalator ride, I entered the club and signed up for a shower and a wi-fi acesss code. You just read the upload.