This post is brought to you the nearly ubiquitous availability of WiFi, which you can access anywhere from Starbucks to one of the ten karaoke bars on my street. Whether everyone here just loves karaoke or karaoke is code for something is TBD.
The night before embarking on this adventure, my brother-in-law, Mitch, informed me of all the ways I could die in Vietnam. On the list: abducted by a kidnapper holding a sign with my name on it at the airport. I told him my pickup was safely arranged, but when I saw a man with a sign labeled Mr. Anna Navatsyk, I gestured and pointed until he called the head of the organization to confirm I was not being whisked away to the human trafficking market. He was legit.
Thanks to a healthy blend of sleep aids and caffeine, I overcame jetlag quite quickly, and mild paranoia aside, my first few days in Hanoi have been a breath of fresh air. And by fresh air, I mean polluted air. Weather apps often include the pollen count, and I believe they should show a similar pollution count, so I can be prepared for bouts of sneezing.
The foliage seems to have adapted to the pollution, because the main streets are lined with beautiful flowers.*
Don’t stare too long, or you will be run over. The Vietnamese and I have a similar view on traffic laws: they are more like guidelines. This leads to real life Frogger every time you cross a street - a childhood dream come true! I’m on level six right now.
Not only am I successfully crossing the street without a scooter driver grabbing my cross body bag and dragging me down the highway– another danger Mitch warned me of - I have learned a bit of Vietnamese, a language in which the basic courtesies make conjugating Spanish verbs seem as easy as ABC. I may say “Nice to meet you” or “Chopsticks, soup, Band-Aid,” depending on my intonation. I’ll probably stick to hand gestures.
I am staying in a house with about 15 other volunteers and am older than most – apparently, not many people in their late twenties have the freedom to sacrifice months of their lives.* Thankfully, the adjustment to living with others has been smooth; I’m even comfortable with the cacophony of chewing during house meals.* Everyone is quite welcoming, and I spent the weekend discovering more of Hanoi.
I found quickly that temples are to Southeast Asia as cathedrals are to Europe. They’re around every corner, I feel awkward taking pictures while someone is praying (but I still do), and many cost money. The difference is, the average temple entrance fee is a dollar, so I'm more likely to enter.
At the first pagoda – fun fact: pagodas are exclusively Buddhist, while the idea of a temple dates back to the origins of Confucianism and its contemporary Taoism - we definitely get our money’s worth, as we happened upon a ceremony of sorts. There was dancing, fan waving, and a procession offering gifts such as cookies, beer, candy and chips.
Apparently, descendants want Buddha, and their ancestors, to enjoy modern decadences. This is a sentiment I can get behind, because if double stuffed Oreos and Reese’s peanut butter cups are combined to form a super food following my death, I want that box placed on my gravestone. With a bottle of Malbec/IPA blend and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos’ and movie theatre popcorn’s lovechild*.
During this same ceremony, a few locals asked to have their picture taken with me. My blonde hair and blue eyes are exotic. Finally, a place where my blondeness is appreciated rather than ridiculed and stigmatized.
Of course you are wondering about the food. Alas, I’m not prepared to speak to that yet, as I simply have been enjoying the meals prepared at the house. I can say there is a lot of rice and fried goodness, and should I ever be craving some Western food, I can walk to a Burger King, Dunkin Donuts, or Popeyes.* Speaking of Western comforts, I joined a gym for $15/month (take a note, Crossfit) to avoid becoming a fried rice patty and began attending a charismatic church where no one photographs me while I’m praying. I even saw a man in an Ohio State t-shirt, although I determined he was not from Ohio when I shouted “O-H” and he stared at me like I was crazy. Go buckeyes.
And o yes, I am volunteering. I met the teacher last week who is kind and eager to have my help, and I am looking forward to meeting the kids later this week. As long as I remember my bus route...
* The side streets, on the other hand, are alleys just large enough for you and two scooters passing one another as you put your back against the wall.
* Suckers.
* I don’t know why I hate the sound of chewing. I wish I hated the sound of the Blue Angels, because I encounter that much less often.
* Trust me, it would be good.
* Yes, they have Popeyes here. I expect Burger King and Dunkin Donuts, but this surprised me. For interested minds, there are 1500 Burger Kings in the Asia Pacific are alone and only 350 international Popeyes franchises, so my instinct was correct, per uszh. (I'm not sure how to right the abbreviated form of usual, but that seems close.)
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