HAWN FAWN

We were one of the few parties at this makeshift restaurant floating in the middle of rice paddies.  It was 9PM and I had assumed we were coming in for a late meal.  Little did I know, the dinner rush hadn't  yet begun and we were early.  By the end of our supper, though, herds of people were stomping their way down that tippy walkway and into the restaurant.  The sign out front read OPEN LATE, and I guess they weren't lying.

Virginia Woolf said it best if you ask me! And in Vietnam, we dined like kings, only better: we dined like gluttons with two stomaches and an endless appetite.  Vietnamese mornings start at 5am, and breakfast is officially over at 10am.  The next meal, lunch, starts up again at 2pm, so if you want some breakfast (usually noodles like pho, bun, or vermicelli; as well as banh beo, banh xeo, all that banh crap), you will wake up early so you can walk over to your neighbor's or your neighbor's neighbor and grab a bowl of whatever they specialize in.  Every morning, we'd wake at 6am, walk down the street, or motoped a few blocks from home and dine on the cheapest, but most delicious breakfasts.  Some meals, for six people, cost us less than $2, while the rarer ones cost us roughly $5-7, but those rare meals also included seconds, sometimes thirds.  Did I mention how delicious these foods were? After a huge breakfast, which I would never do back in the states because I just hate American foods, especially breakfast foods, we would relax for an hour, then head outside to see if anyone was peddling fruits like logan, lychee, rambutan(!!!!!!), coconuts, etc.  We'd usually buy two pounds of each and end up snacking until lunch.  At lunch, we'd journey to some far away place and eat great seafood.  The freshest of octopus, crabs, snails, mussels, oysters, fish, scallop, and opihi can be found at almost any seafood restaurant in the provinces of Hue or Hanoi; you usually see boats and fishermen catching these delicate morsels and bring them by the basket-load to the restaurant.  It's remarkable and such an experience to eat seafood that's barely been caught and delivered fresh.  You just don't get that in California.  After that, we gorge on more fruits, go to the beach, or walk around, and then head to dinner, which were my least favourite meals because that's when prices normalize and the food gets worse.  The meals after dinner, though, are to die for.  In Vietnamese, the word used for such a meal has the literal translation of "cheers" in English.  And I guess it makes sense.  People usually set up shop on street corners with chests full of cold beers, and endless pots full of snails and baskets full of duck eggs.  This is raw and dirty and not for everyone, especially if you have never experienced these foods.  We'd go out every night and sit for a few hours over beers (Tiger, preferably because that's the staple of Vietnam, apparently) and these fantastic finger foods.  We'll have thirds and fourths and only pay around $5.  My sister ended up getting a terrible stomach ache that lasted two days and resulted in her having to take shelter in the restroom all night.  But if you're ever planning on visiting, I suggest you try it, anyway.  Because street food is where all the great and flavourful foods are.  And never go where the white people go; the foods at those restaurants are all terrible.

Lunch:

It is always hot and sunny in Vietnam.  And the beaches are always completely abandoned during the day time because the Vietnamese are a strange people and their wayward thinking drives them into hiding during the days when the sun is out.  Instead, they frequent their beaches at either 4am (no joke) or 5pm.  I tried to do the hip thing and go when everyone else went - I hated it. 

As a Chinese-born-Vietnamese, it was difficult to grow up without a lot of preconceived notions about the Vietnamese.  Even though I was raised in a household that was predominantly influenced by Vietnamese culture, I never could identify with the customs and saw myself as solely Chinese.  So, here I was, after a 16-hour plane ride, in Vietnam, where I would be spending the majority of my 20 days in South East Asia.  I was uncomfortable.  I was prejudiced, and I wanted to leave for China right away.

Being boisterous and completely in disregard for other's wellbeing were only some qualities I could not stand about the Vietnamese (based on what I had encountered in Vietnamese people I've come across all my life while in the US).  So, I was completely taken aback when we were greeted with so much hospitality by my father's second-cousin and his family.  Even more surprising was what I began to notice at the multiple stops we made along the course of my trip around Vietnam.  This is just the gist of it, but while in Vietnam, I traveled up and down the entire country from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi, Hoa An, Hue, and Da Nang, to name a few of the more popular places.  As I said, with every stop and with more direct contact with the people, I began to understand this backwards society (from a skewed westerner's perspective).  The people were loud because they were proud of their heritage and what they stood for: in our greedy and comfortable first-world point of view, we only see poverty and a slow pace towards the race to industrialize, but the Vietnamese see tremendous change, and for that, they are resplendent.  Every single household has a trade; either they specialize in some fantastic food, or they are salesman with almost everything to offer.  And, as one of the poorest Asian societies, they have made quite remarkable accomplishments towards industrialization: they have buildings that are tremendous and sturdy and made solely from cement and tile and brick, they've electricity and wifi in even the most remote parts of their countryside, and they have cars! As amazing as it was to see how relentless these people are, it was also heartbreaking.  I came to understand that the Vietnamese weren't mean or vicious-spirited, but just dignified and so strong because they had to be, because they were against the odds in almost everything, and that what I distinguished as rudeness was just their tough exterior.  Here we are, and through civil wars, world wars, famine, and even with the rest of the world leaving us behind in this technological arms race, we are still here, we will always be here, because we are Vietnamese and the Vietnamese are a tenacious people, is what I hear when I look into the darkened-from-hard-labor faces of the Vietnamese.

I know none of this makes any sense to outsiders, but basically, I saw struggles, I saw tremendous uphill battles that this entire nation, with all its people from every generation, has climbed over and conquered, and I fell in love.  My heart broke for them, it beat for them, it raced for them, and I left with much of it scattered in the busy streets of Ho Chi Minh, in the restless markets of Da Nang, in the rice fields of Hue, and all throughout the bison grazing lands throughout Hanoi.

I felt like a tourist in my own country.  Sure, it was a country I'd deserted at the young age of four, and whose citizenship I gladly gave up and whose culture I shunned for the remainder of my life, but standing amongst these gigantic pillars of history made me feel ashamed.  I was sorry  repenting not knowing anything more of Vietnam and its people/customs than a handful of extensive phrases for ordering food. Needless to say, I tried to make up for this by immersing myself in anything that would help me learn about this beautiful country and its hospitable and eager-eyed people.  What better way than to visit monuments that used to house dynastic queens and kings? There was such a despondently oppressive air to the place, but it was situated amongst such wondrous countryside views.  And the architecture of the past proved more enticing than today's.  Surprisingly enough, I actually enjoyed doing and visiting many tourist-y attractions while in Vietnam.

Remember when I was in Asia for 20 days a couple months ago? Well...neither do I.  It took so long to edit these pictures, and I nearly gave up, but I am finally finished with the first batch.  So, let's start at the end - Vietnam.

On this particular day, we ventured just a short ways north of Da Nang and headed to Hue.  It's mostly known for it's beef noodle dish (bun bo hue), but I discovered something more amazing than the food (wait for that post!).  The scenery was breathtaking.  We rode through valleys that opened up and led way to mountains of lush greenery.  Above us, a light fog loomed, but it was still as dry and as humid as the deserts; to the north, more mountains, and to the east and west were bodies of water riddled with fishing boats.  After leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the city, it became drastically apparent that country dwelling did not even coexist on the same plane as the city or suburbs; everything is more spaced out, there's hardly anything modern - the buildings are shacks, and if not that intricate, then you'll find only flimsy planks of wood nailed together and kept upright by strong tree limbs and topped off with patchy tinned roofs.  People sleep on hammocks instead of beds, they nap in fishing boats and sway with the tides, everyone moves without purpose and it's as slow as molasses but it's perfectly acceptable.  If you're trying to achieve enlightenment, you'd most likely find it here and get absorbed in the serenity.  Hue also keeps you modest; the people make their living on food, either by catching what they can find in the waters and selling it to local restaurants, or raising herds of chickens and opening up a speciality restaurant for the few people who do pass by this ghost town.  It was definitely one of my favourite places in Vietnam.