Adventures in Transportation

Sunday
Vietnamese word of the day: ban: friend

It was a pretty good week at the college, but by Friday morning I was ready to head to Hanoi to see some friends and get a few western comforts. My saying that I need to go to HANOI for Western comforts should give you some idea of what my life is like right now. Not complaining: just facts.

Regardless, my ridiculous internal alarm clock got me up at the usual 5:30am, and I headed to the bus stop to brave Vietnamese public transportation solo. I saw a lot of strange things on New York City subways and buses; here in Vietnam, I'm the strange thing on the bus. Seriously. Every person who walks on the bus spots me, quizzically looks me up and down, makes a comment to their friend (for all my lack of understanding of Vietnamese, I know when I'm being talked about), and if they have even the smallest knowledge of English or just a lot of curiosity, they come and sit next to me/half on top of me and begin talking to me in Vietlish. Or Engamese....

On Friday morning the first person to approach me was a middle aged doctor with a decent surface knowledge of English. The bus was empty, but he came and sat right beside me and rested his bag and arm on my leg. Personal space is something that I'm learning to do without...We had a pleasant enough conversation--"Yes, I'm an American. I'm an English teacher. I'm 23. No, I'm not married"--then he opened his briefcase and pulled out a packet of medical documents written in English and asked me to translate them into Vietnamese. I politely explained that I can't speak very much Vietnamese--and don't think I could even read the English of the medical document--then put back on my IPod and tried to desensitize myself to the fact that I'm the favored bus freakshow. Next up was this young sassy bus ticket collector. He spoke no English, but he wasn't really interested in conversing anyway. He, like the doctor, sat literally on top of me and took one of my purple earbuds out of my ear and put it in his own. His buddies gave him a thumbs up and we sat like this, listening to music and cruising along, for about 45 minutes. He liked Fleetwood Mac. At one point I showed him the address of where I was going, which was a good thing because the bus I was on apparently wouldn't take me there. Shortly after he had detached himself from me, the bus stopped and he grabbed my bag , pulled me into the street, and brought me to a different, bigger bus. No explanation was made, but what the hell was I going to say about it? This bus did take me to the station I needed, thank God.

In my former life (BV--Before Vietnam), there were many times that I pulled into Port Authority or Penn Station in NY and would have to fight tourists who tried to take my cab and cab drivers who refused to go to Washington Heights. Here in Vietnam, I walk off the bus and am immediately swarmed by cab drivers and motorbike drivers who take one look at my sweet, dimpled, American Pie face and figure I have a lot of money and will be easy to rip off. None of my "trusted" cab companies (the 3 in all of Hanoi that don't rig their meters or take you in circles)were at the station, so I walked a few blocks, all the while being trailed by a parade of Vietnamese men shouting, "Madame! Madame! Will you please get on my motorbike!" No, I will not.

The 2 days and 1 night in Hanoi were great save a few stomach issues, but what's my life these days without those? I came back to Hai Duong on Saturday night because this morning I was slated to go with my teacher friend Mrs. Bac to Co Son Mountain via motorbike! Mrs. Bac picked me up at 7:30 am while heavy skies loomed above. I brought my own helmet--my bicycle helmet. No one here, except for me, rides a bicycle with a helmet. This sometimes makes me feel like the less cool 10 year old version of myself that I once was, but most of the time it makes me feel at least slightly less in peril for my life. That being said, wearing an ill-fitted bicycle helmet on the motorbike really just made me feel like a loser. I'm going to need a cute motorbike helmet if I want to keep my self respect.

About halfway into the 1.5 hour drive to the mountain, Mrs. Bac pulled over and said she thought it was going to rain and we should put on our rain coats. I pulled out my silly purple poncho, readjusted my stupid helmet, and got ready for the worst. About five minutes later the Vietnamese rain I've been waiting for finally arrived. I was soaked through my poncho, my mascara was running down my face, and my legs were caked in mud. In the words of my father, I looked like I'd been shot at, and missed. We pulled into the entrance of Co Son Mountain where about 5 men sat waiting to park motorbikes; they all started laughing when they saw me. How's that for humility?

Luckily, the sky really cleared up, and Bac and I had a lovely day together. We went to her parent's for lunch and they were great people. I also took a 2 hour nap on a wooden bed in their living room. They insisted.

I'm looking forward to getting this week underway. I only have a few classes because about 1/2 the students have manditory military training. Hopefully I can fill up my time.

Here is a picture of Bac and me on the Mountain! She's great. I still look a little rough...