China, baby!

Back to Japan, back to the blog. I recently returned from a ten-day trip to China. This time around, I abandoned my typical solo-budget-travel style for a taste of luxury (and room service!) with my new beau. Pictures are on flickr.

Queen

As the bus back from the new teachers’ welcome dinner
pulled into town, a few teachers started talking about
where in town to drop me off so that I would have the
shortest walk back to my apartment. One of the younger
teachers, one who is always looking after me, piped up
from the back: Drop her off?! Aren’t you coming to
the karaoke second-party with us?

After unloading at school, grabbing some mixers for
what would be the night’s third party (after closing time
at karaoke), we made a quick phone call to someone’s
sober wife for a ride across town. I soon found myself,
along with five of the most charming men from my
school, at our local karaoke joint. Turns out I was
the only woman in attendance. The night’s token
female. Smurfette. Queen.

We sang and drank the better part of the night away.
Well, until the part of the night where the night got
even better. I typically refuse to sing solo, forcing
my companions to belt out any English song they happen
to know with me. Queen’s We Are The Champions (We
will… we will… rock you… ) is standard fare. But
after a significant amount of coaxing from the
Mama-san (one of the bar’s owners). I jumped up on
stage for a little Britney.

At the end of each song, the TV screens that display
the lyrics change to look like slot machines. If
three symbols line up on the screen, you win
a little prize. Earlier in the night, we had already
scored a bottle of orange soda and a bag of chips.
Luuucky. So after a round of high fives for my lame
attempt at reviving Bobby Brown’s Prerogative, we all
noticed the TV screens showing 7-7-7. The
Mama-san came over to ask us what we type of alcohol
we wanted. Free liquor? Definitely beats orange soda
and potato chips! After another round of high fives, I
left it up to the boys who picked out some shochu (a
Japanese liquor, which will hereafter be referred to
only as Japanese poison). But when the Mama-san
returned, it was not with one, but three bottles of
liquor… I mean, poison. Dropped jaws, yet
another round of high fives, and a chorus of, “Sing
again! You’re lucky!”

Before singing, I had popped over to say hello to a
friendly 74-year old man I had met at the same bar the
month before. After I sang, he sent over a mug of
beer. When I went back to thank him, he asked how many
other teachers I was drinking with and sent two more
bottles of poison to our table. Now the group was
dumbstruck. What a windfall. They all came over to
thank him, even doing the Thaaaaank Yooooouuu cheer
used for teachers who are moving to another school. (I
am not even gonna try to explain the cheer, apparently
it’s an Iwate phenomenon. But yes, it really is
always given in English, and yes, (in this context) it
was totally cute.)

At bars here, at least at some bars here, you buy a
whole bottle of liquor and then they keep whatever you
don’t drink in the back for the next time you come.
So when we left that night, there were five bottles of
poison in the back of the local karaoke joint with my
name on them.

Last Friday night, my cohort and I, increased in
number by several new teachers, again made our way
to our favorite karaoke place. The story of our lucky
night was told, bottle after bottle of poison was
brought to the table, and I was graced with making the
toast. Immediately everyone started the familiar We
Will Rock You stomping and clapping beat, so of course
we started the night with a little Queen.

April Showers

One lazy Sunday afternoon near the end of March or beginning of April, I was walking from my house to the train station. Within ten seconds of leaving my apartment, the sky clouded over, and it started to drizzle. I hadn’t had the foresight to bring an umbrella or a raincoat with me. As I made my way along the sidewalk, saw a car pull over to the side of the road opposite me and stopped. A man got out of the car, walked around to the trunk, and got out an umbrella. I understood what he was going to do even before he had opened it or crossed the street to give it to me. Give. Not loan. Because I have no idea who he is or where he lives and couldn’t possibly return it. But the thing that may surprise you the most about this random act of kindness is that it isn’t all that unusual. Just ten seconds on a lazy Sunday afternoon in my normal life.

Committed

I moved to Japan, committed to staying for a year. I
will end up living here for three. It is only here in
Japan that I have learned how easy it can be to make,
and just how easy it is to break, commitments. In the
BJE (Before Japan Era), commitment was a word I
wasn’t able to pronounce every syllable of without a
shuddering. But here…

A few months ago, I was helping a student to prepare for an
English proficiency interview test. She was a first
year student and was preparing to take the same test
that I was ecstatic to have my third year students
pass. So after our practice session, I laid out the
plan. Confident that she would pass this test, I told
her that I wanted to help her try to pass the next
level of the exam before she graduates. That’s
something that no one at our school has ever done. And
the thing is, I’ll actually still be around when she
is a third year student. Commitment. Surprisingly
easy.

Moonshine

I would update... I really would... but I am too busy getting drunk by myself off this bottle of homemade liquor that one of the agriculture teachers (our school has a farm) gave me today. Fermented milk + homebrewed alcohol = sour deliciousness.

Theory of Relativity

Yesterday, driving home from school, I decided to take a backroad instead of the busy route I normally use. On the way, I passed a field where a flock of swans had landed to rest. With the end of winter near, the cranes are headed back to their summer homes in Siberia. They spend the winter in Iwate, because despite the fact that I think it's $%^#ing freezing, it's still warmer than Siberia. Just a little reminder that it really is all relative.

Happy White Day!

What on earth is White Day you are wondering? Well, maybe you haven't heard of it because it is a COMPLETELY MADE UP Japanese holiday. Consumerism at its finest, really. White Day is the antithesis of last month's Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day in Japan works a little differently than it does in America. Women give chocolate to men, but not the other way around. Women are expected to give chocolates to their co-workers as well as their boyfriends, really to any man they have any kind of relationship with. And like every other Japanese gift, the kind of chocolate (how nice it is) you choose to give is critical for showing your feelings and helping your relationship, both for work and romance. Work chocolates are given out of obligation, so they are called giri-choco. But the chocolates you want to give someone are called honmei-choco. Your honne are your true feelings, so your honmei-choco can show someone how you really feel about them.

Personally, I only gave out one box of chocolates on Valentine's Day. I dropped it off at my next door neighbor's, because he had given me a bottle of wine the week before (the gift of wine was because I shoveled the snow from his parking space... but I only shoveled the snow because I felt bad that my friends parked there one night and he couldn't. See the little cycles of obligation that ARE Japan?) Was my choco gift born of giri or honne? I will say only that he is quite attractive and leave it at that.

So White Day was created to give men a chance to reciprocrate for the chocolate they received last month (thus the cycle of obligation continues). In tribute to this very special holiday, I have posted the "funny looking heart things" that fake boyfriend sent the girls and I for Valentine's Day (and which you might have read the fuss about in the Taiko post's comments).

Happy White Day, ladies!

Addendum: Late in the evening, the handsome neighbor left a box of delicious cookies at my door. I LOVE Japanese made-up holidays!!

Send off

This morning I went to the train station to see off seven of my students who are going on a two week trip to America. I walked up to the group gathered at the station, possibly a full two minutes late, having missed the short send-off ceremony. The other teachers quickly ushered me to the front and asked me to say something to the students. I choked out an "I'm so proud of you," nearly bursting into tears, as if I were their mom and not their ALT. But it's the truth. I could not be more proud of these kids and the effort they put in over the last month to prepare for this trip. Wishing that I was also on the train to the plane to America, I came home and called everyone in my family.

Vietnam, Days 13-16

DAY 13. I caught I flight back to Saigon, booked a Mekong Delta tour, and checked into a hotel. I waited for the day to cool off (so warm! so different from the north and central parts of the country) before I went in search of dinner. Within the first few hours, I realized that I really like this city, which I hadn’t expected. It’s busy, but busier feels safer sometimes. Unless you are crossing the street, of course. At one particularly busy intersection, a kind cyclo driver (after finally accepting the fact that no, I really didn’t need a ride—and yes, I really did just want to cross the street) put me directly behind a Vietnamese man who was headed my direction. “You go together.”

Saigon evenings are particularly nice. On the walk back from dinner, I passed a park with an abundance of young lovers, cuddling on the seats of motorbikes and park benches. Apparently the better looking the bike, the better looking the girlfriend (or so I was told). There’s something undeniably sexy about a young woman on her own bike—dressed up for a night out in a sparkling tank top, tight jeans, dangling earrings, and cheap high-heels—weaving skillfully through endless traffic. Saigon is a city for watching.

DAY 14 and 15. I spent two days on a tour of the Mekong Delta. Most of our time was spent on a boat, cruising through the rivers and canals of the delta. Along the way, we stopped at several small-scale (cottage) industries for making candy, popping rice, and rice noodles. We also stopped to walk along dirt paths past small modest houses and rice paddies. On the second day, we paid a morning visit to the Cai Rang floating market. Smaller rowing and motorized boats pass between larger anchored ones that advertise the produce they have for sale, on tall bamboo poles. At first I was hesitant to be on the tour, but after it was done, I was glad that I went. The people in the Mekong Delta were friendly, and the children never seemed to tire of waving and shouting hello.

DAY 16. I returned to Saigon sick, sick, sick. So for my last day, I lingered in my hotel until check-out time. But I still managed to make it to the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum, both interesting. The remainder of my time (and the remainder of my money) in Saigon was spent buying gifts for family and souvenir sweets for my schools. I caught a late flight back to Japan.

Cambodia, Days 11-12

DAY 11. Over breakfast at my guesthouse, I met another American woman who had also just arrived and who was also traveling alone, so we decided to tour the temples of Angkor together. She had already hired a guide and a tuk-tuk for the day, so I just tagged along. For our first day, we focused on the biggest temples, the complex at Angkor Thom and Angkor Wat itself. We finished the day with a sunset view from another nearby temple top.

DAY 12. We dragged ourselves out of bed early to make it back out to Angkor Wat for sunrise. Driving through the still cool morning air and creeping up to the temple's entrance in the dark lent the ruins the air of mystery they deserve (but which seems to dissolve in the mid-day heat). The sight of the sun rising behind such a large and amazing temple is truly beautiful, well worth the effort of early rising. I tired to imagine what it would be like if that was how I had seen Angkor Wat for the first time. My hotel had offered to wake me for sunrise on the first day, but I was simply too tired from traveling the day before. In hindsight, I think that would have been an impressive and spectacular introduction.



Immediately after sunrise, we tuk-tukked out to the temple of Ta Phrom. Fortunate to beat the crowds, we were there with just three other people. Ta Phrom was my favorite temple. It is largely un-restored and partially overgrown. For the remainder of the morning, we walked around several of the other outlying temples. The few archaeological exhibits and work-in-progress piles of stone were interesting to see. (Again, archaeologist nerd!) By noon we were templed-out and headed into the town of Siem Reap for lunch. We spent the rest of the day just resting in our air conditioned guest rooms. We returned to town in the evening for dinner at the restaurant that played host to the cast and crew of Tomb Raider (part of the movie was filmed at Angkor) being sure to order several of Angelina Jolie’s signature drink.

The ruins were great to see, and I found the Cambodian people to be generally friendly. I could usually even get the postcard-selling kids to crack a smile. Although sometimes that went the other way around…
Postcard-Selling Girl: “Buy my postcards?”
Me: “No thanks.”
PSG: “You can send one to your boyfriend.”
Me: “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
PSG: “You know why you don’t have a boyfriend?”
Me (thinking perhaps this tiny girl actually has some insight into why I don’t have a boyfriend): “No… Why?”
PSG: “Because you don’t buy my postcards!”

Altogether, because I only toured the temples in Siem Reap, it didn’t really feel like I was in Cambodia. My new friend joked that it felt more like Disneyland. The roads from the airport to Angkor are lined with massive 5-star hotels, the bars and restaurants look more like they belong Manhattan than Cambodia, and when touring the temples you hear more Japanese than anything else. I think that I would like to return to Cambodia at some point, but maybe through some sort of volunteer effort. Because even at Disneyland, the poverty and sad history of the country creeps in around the edges—men with missing limbs, children begging in the streets. Seeing Cambodia, even just the touristy, most-developed part, makes you want to do something to help Cambodia.

Vietnam, Days 6-10

DAY 6. The train arrived in Hue early the next morning, and I said goodbye to my Canadian friends. After finding and falling in love with my fabulous Hue hotel (Internet access from the room! Please note that if your guidebook ever says that someplace is popular with Japanese backpackers, stay there!), I went across the street for breakfast. When I lamented to another traveler in the café that I didn’t think I’d have time to tour both the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and the sights of Hue before I had to move south (because that day’s tours had already begun), he mentioned that he was planning to hire a car to see the DMZ that same day and that I was welcome to join him. On the long ride north to our first stop, he mentioned that he just happened to have a PhD in something-or-other related to military culture. So he also just happened to know all about the area’s history during the Vietnam/American War. What luck! My own personal tour guide! Seeing the tunnels of Vinh Moc (constructed by local residents, along with the Viet Cong, to escape the area’s bombing) were what made the trip worthwhile. We returned to Hue in the evening for a delicious dinner at a vegetarian restaurant, during which I fell for the sob-story sales pitch of a (rather desperate) motorbike driver and hired him for the next day. On the way back to my hotel, I ran into my favorite Canadians and stopped for a beer.

DAY 7. Today I saw the sights of Hue from the back of a motorbike, a very easy way to get around. Japanese bridges, local markets, fishermen in flooded rice paddies, emperor’s tombs, serene pagodas with chanting monks. The highlight was seeing a ceremony performed by the monks at Thien Mu Pagoda, which according to my driver is not a common occurrence. I returned to the hotel late in the afternoon, tired from the day’s sights, and only made it as far as the Indian place at the end of the street for dinner.

DAY 8 (New Year’s Eve). I took the afternoon bus from Hue to Hoi An, a small historic town that has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Arriving to find it as rainy-drizzly in Hoi An as it had been in Hue (I was carting around clothes that just would not dry), I checked into a hotel and began to roam the streets, feeling fairly lonely. In no time at all, I ran into two friends from my tour of Halong Bay. So we passed a quiet New Year’s together: dinner, dessert, drinks, and good company. I returned to my hotel just before the stroke of twelve. So for the first time, I brought in the New Year alone. Not so bad. Happy New Year!!

DAY 9 (New Year’s Day). All day, only wandering the streets of Hoi An, checking out the historic sights. One old house (Tan Ky) was particularly interesting as a 7th generation resident gave me the tour. I also enjoyed seeing the tiny but interesting Museum of Trade Ceramics, archaeologist nerd that I am. After lunch, I finally convinced myself to have something made—custom tailoring is Hoi An’s specialty. So I went into a shop, quickly picked out a suit from a catalog and some cloth from the stacks of material bolts, and let the shop’s tailors’ nimble fingers set to work.

After exhausting the list of historic sights and wandering the streets in circles (Hoi An is really quite small), I was bored enough to accept a boat-ride from a grinning, toothless woman near the fish section of the market. She showed me how to paddle her small wooden boat and even loaned me her conical straw hat when it began to rain. The post-card selling, coin-collecting boy, who boarded our craft mid-ride, laughed at the sight of me in the hat. “Beautiful.” Even such flattery did not win him any post-card sales.

For dinner I found a place serving veggie cao lau, a noodle dish that is the local specialty, but saved room to sample more of Hoi An’s delicious desserts. The French colonial influence that remains in Vietnam means that breads and desserts are fantastic!

DAY 10. In the morning, I picked up my new suit and had a few final alterations made, which they did while I waited. Talk about fast service, I had a new well-fitted suit in less than 24 hours. At noon, I checked out of my guesthouse and waited for the taxi I had reserved to take me to the airport in Da Nang. But it never came. The girl working at the hotel desk explained that there didn’t seem to be any taxis available anywhere in town. (Did I mention that Hoi An is rather small?) She assessed my luggage (just a backpack) and called a friend to take me by motorbike… for a 45-minute drive through the rain.

Three prop-plane flights and 10 hours later, I arrived exhausted in Siem Reap, Cambodia, home to Ankgor Wat.

Vietnam, Days 1-5

Back by popular demand! A much delayed update to share some highlights of my solo-sojourn through Vietnam and Cambodia during winter break. Bits and pieces from my travel journal, also entitled...

How I Spent My Winter Vacation: Part 1

DEPARTURE (December 23). My flight from Narita to Hanoi was delayed, so I took a few minutes to read though my previously unopened guidebook. It was then that I read: “In theory you can convert major currencies in Vietnam, but the reality is that US dollars are still very much preferred. Be sure to bring enough dollars in cash or travelers cheques for your whole visit.” Realizing that my money belt (the very existence of which was a big improvement over last year’s planning) contained only yen, I considered a mad dash to the currency exchange just as they announced my flight was boarding. The $28 I had in my wallet left over from my trip to New York would have to get me by.

I arrived late at night at my guesthouse, and crossed my fingers as the owner added up the cost of the taxi she had sent to the airport and my first two nights’ stay. Total: $28. Reluctantly, I handed over every bit of my cash.

DAY 1 (Christmas Eve). With absolutely no spendable currency in my pocket, I spent the first part of Saturday morning in search of an open bank. After several closed doors and a lot of walking, I finally settled on an ATM. (Thank Heaven for ATMs! Thank Heaven I still have an American bank account!)

For the rest of the day, I wandered around the Old Quarter and signed up for a boat tour of Halong Bay leaving the next day. While signing up for the tour, I met a lovely couple from Norway who suggested we meet later for a Christmas Eve dinner and to see Hanoi’s water puppet show. At dinner, I had my first meal of vegetarian meat. These meat substitutes for the strict Buddhist diet are all too real-looking for my taste. One dish even had tiny fake squid complete with tiny black eyes. Discerning whether something was or wasn’t meat would prove challenging for the rest of the trip.
Me: Is this meat? Is it vegetarian?
Waiter: Yes, meat. Yes, vegetarian.

Water puppets are a traditional art in Vietnam, particularly in the north. Brightly painted wooden puppets (of people, animals, boats, dragons) enact water-related scenes, such as rice-farming or traditional Vietnamese fairy tales. Their stage is a pool of water. The puppets are controlled by puppeteers standing in the waist-deep pool, but behind a curtain. The controls for the puppets run under the water, so that the puppets look like as if they are moving on their own. Touristy, but entertaining nonetheless.

When we left the puppet show, we found the streets to be absolutely jam-packed with motorbikes, so many that even on foot we had a terrible time squeezing through the completely stopped traffic. We learned that Christmas Eve is the big date night in Vietnam. It’s the time to cruise (or apparently inch your way) through town with your friends or your best girl/guy on the back of your bike.

At the hotel, I eventually managed to fall asleep through the noise of the construction upstairs. But I awoke a few hours later to the sound of someone speaking Japanese with a Vietnamese accent downstairs. Very surreal.

DAY 2 (Christmas Day). After being swindled by a bread-seller on the street to pay as much for a roll as I had for dinner the night before (pre-coffee transactions are never a good thing), I made my way to the Handspan tour office. After a mini-van ride to the coast complete with a lesson in Communism 101 from our tour guide, our group boarded a “junk,” one among hundreds of tourist boats in the harbor. We cruised through the beautiful rock formations in the bay for the rest of the day, being served seemingly endless plates of food for lunch and dinner. We stopped once, at a large and beautiful cave. That night, I passed the last few hours of Christmas huddled under a blanket on the deck of the boat, talking with a new friend about the future, the past, and (of course) traveling.

DAY 3. Waking up on the boat and pulling open the curtains of my tiny cabin was wonderful; the surrounding scenery still beautiful. After breakfast, we changed boats so that we could begin kayaking. We paddled around the rock islands of the bay, past a floating fishing army outpost and a floating fishing village: rows of tiny bright green and bright blue houses, woven reed boats, barking dogs, and drying baby clothes. At the end of the day, we disembarked on Cat Ba Island for an evening of playing pool in a local ex-pat owned bar and a good night’s sleep in a nice hotel.

DAY 4. Our group made our way back to Hanoi and said our goodbyes. I could not have asked for a better group of people to spend a few days with. I really enjoyed their company. As I checked into my hotel room that evening, I found myself in interesting accommodations, to say the least. My room was the top floor, basically the roof of the hotel converted into a room, so I shared the space with the tank for the hotel’s water supply. Every wall of the “room” was a window with barely enough space between them for the bed. A little sheet metal, a bunch of windows, some Styrofoam(!), some frosted glass to conceal the water tank, and BAM! another room to rent for $6 a night. Or more if you can get it...
Hotel Staff Guy: How much did they tell you the room charge would be?
Me: $6
HSG: Oh… well, can you pay more?
What I thought: Oh sure! Of course! How much would you like? $20? $30? for this gem of a room where I have to flip three switches in a certain order to turn on the water and pull a tattered piece of blue twine to turn on the light?!
What I actually said: Umm… Noooo.

To be honest, the room seemed kind of cool until the three switches to turn on the water quit working completely. Strange to be so close to all the water in the hotel and yet not be able to actually use a single drop of it. But rather than risk another encounter with the HSG, I just went without.

DAY 5. First stop, Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum, where Uncle Ho himself lies embalmed in a glass sarcophagus. Truly creepy. On the way in, a couple of guards stopped me to search my bag. Discovering my camera but saying nothing, they pulled me aside and into a small room, where they promptly closed the door. A room with nothing but two silent guards, a bare desk, and a closed door is not high on my list of good ways to pass an afternoon, and believe me when I say it's even less appealing in a Communist country. But it turned out that they only wanted me to leave the camera. The process for me to retrieve the camera after peeking in on Uncle Ho was the same ordeal, and this time the guards would barely open the door wide enough for me to squeeze in and out of the room. Combined with viewing a dead body, it was all a bit unnerving. (Maybe the reaction they were hoping for?? I imagine the conversation between guards to go something like this: "Man, you should have seen the scared look on the face of this American woman today when we did the pull-'em-into-the-room-alone bit... This job never gets old.")

Next on the agenda was the Temple of Literature. After touching the head of every head stone turtle (for good luck on tests, because you never know), I went across the street to a place called KOTO, Know One Teach One, for lunch. The restaurant is used to train disadvantaged youth. Such good food, and such good service. Finally, after dawdling over cookies and coffee, I made my way to the Museum of Ethnology. I only had two hours there before it closed, but could easily have spent all day. It's a really impressive complex. Highly recommended.

Later that night, in an attempt to get to the train station, my communication with my motorbike driver landed me in a completely different part of town than my actual destination (on a street named “Thuy Hue” instead of “train to Hue”). But eventually I made it back to the station in time to board my overnight sleeper. I had been craving gum since arriving in Vietnam, so I stopped to buy some (along with the night’s nutricious dinner of bread, bananas, and OREOs) on the way into the station. The price on the gum display rack was marked 500 dong, but when I tried to pay the stand’s owner, she pointed out that the package itself was marked 2000 dong. I don’t know why this seemed like a large sum of money for a pack of gum (only about 12 cents US) but in that moment, it did. As I hesitated, the woman took back the 1000 dong coin she had just given me as change for “dinner,” opened the pack of gum, and handed me two of the five sticks. Some shrewd bargaining landed me three sticks, much to the amusement of the second shopkeeper.

I located my train cabin and found it filled with three friendly Canadian faces. Lucky again, I passed the evening in good company.