Four Americans walk in to a bar…

I am balancing on a pier, looking at a festive bar as it floats atop the Süng river. The blazing Sun has gone down, yet, the air is still blazing hot. Card speaks with his two friends, a couple pretty girls he works with who are totally disinterested in me, about what to do next. We had all just disembarked from an evening boat ride on the Süng – it was nice, cheap by the American dollar ($20 a head), and seemed some-what adventurous. At the very least, the DJ looped Michael Jackson's best all 5 hours and I met a lovely Vietnamese girl who had nothing to do with me afterwards.

Perhaps, I seem to emotionally harp on the sore subject of having no game in Vietnam? Yes.

Back to the pier, Card's friends, who before the boat ride were raving on about how they were so outlandish and fun-seeking, were now pitching fits about desiring to retire for the night. I was having none of it. From across the rocking pier, we could see the party at club 'Solace' was hitting puberty. Of course, there is a great deal of irony about the club's name. I should note, however, the play on words came to no surprise to Card or I. The Vietnamese absolutely love word-play; call them hipsters, if you like.

"I think we're gonna go," Card replies to my glare.
"That is bullshit. What the fuck, we're in Vietnam, dude!," I say.
"Yeah, and I don't wanna die in Vietnam!," Card responds, "You coming?"

I should add, Card is not being insensitive. I came to learn this type of conversation is more or less rote. The man is obviously adventuresome, for god's sake, we were standing off a Vietnamese party boat, next to a Vietnamese club, in Vietnam! Then again, sometimes my comrade needs a little cajoling to remember how to have fun.

"No," I say.
"Alright, let me see if I can get them to come along," Card says.
He left to win over the females. He returned in failure.
"Dude, we don't need them! They're lame!," I cry.
"I don't know, I'm kind of tired, went to work early...," I did not hear the rest as, I began tuning him out.

I decide to employ a more drastic measure to seal the deal and move our conversation in to the roaring club. I had false hopes that if Card saw the crowd for himself, perhaps his soul would emerge. I am now aware that Card hates crowds!
Inside Solace, on its utmost periphery, Card and I were immediately assaulted by the most deafening sounds. I am still baffled at the shear number of people crammed in to that little bar. Lo, the Vietnamese love Lady Ga-Ga. They love mixing the good lady with manic electronic drums. They love Heinekin, and that is the only beer currently being sold at Solace.
I am sure Card and I looked terrified, wearing whiter, bleaker faces than any of these Asians had seen. Card leaves. Before he does, though, he asks,
"Are you sure you can find your way out of here?" He looks truly concerned.
"Oh yeah, I came to kick ass, and kick ass I shall," I lie.

Now I am alone in what turns out to be a very gay bar, illegally providing business after curfew. Did I mention, Solace is owned by the mob?

The box...

I never sweat more than I sweat in Vietnam. To turn a phrase of my father's, one of his many odd idioms coined somewhere between hills of Eastern Kentucky, Vietnam is hotter than blue blazes. The country is exceptionally humid as well. While I sit on my tiny twin bed, I am pondering these matters, sweat beginning to bud in my eye-brows, and hallucinating the most dazzling of phantasms extreme heat can conjure.

By the time I was sweltering on my little bed, nearly two weeks of my travels had passed. Two weeks prior, when Card had aided me in securing a suitable dwelling space, I had had no idea the relative tribulation I would thus encounter. I learned, paying up front is a mistake in Vietnam. Likewise, I learned, nothing goes as planned in Vietnam.

Our debacle began an hour after Noon, a time Card and I would eventually realise to be the hottest of the Vietnamese hours...

"Where in the hell is Tam Thung?," I pant while looking cross-eyed at a map of Hanoi's Old Quarter.
"I think you're saying that wrong," Card replies.

Card is leading the way through the labyrinth of odd-angled streets. Everywhere I look seems like everywhere I've been making navigation impossible. At this point, traversing Hanoi is like traversing a block of Swiss cheese.

"I think it's this way, and then up there on the left," Card says while stepping confidently in to on-coming traffic.

I cringe as I follow my friend. All the while, I am thinking he is completely wrong in his assertion of which direction we are heading. Of course, Card has it right. His direction sense is ridiculous.

The two of us walk down an alley I am sure I remember from an Indiana Jones movie. The street must not be more than 10 feet abreast, most of which is cluttered with all manners of food stuffs. Raw fish, hunks of cow-somethings, vegetables I have never seen, old men playing Chess, the ever-present motorbikes roaming to-and-fro, and multitudes of people pushing and shoving weave around me unaffected by such chaos.

We find ourselves outside of a hostel named Manh Dung Guesthouse (that is, Mah-n Zoo-ng in Vietnamese). The place looks fairly nice on a cursory inspection. Clearly visible are four computers with internet connections, a shiny elevator, and a well-endowed female receptionist. All of these noted, save the elevator, would play integral roles during my stay in Vietnam. The elevator was excluded after a sudden, though brief, power outage...

Huh? the Tout

I am standing on the side of a wet curb starring wide-eyed at a metal collage of chaos. I see a blue million motor bikes claustrophobically crowding the streets and hear a cacophony of culture shock. These are sights and sounds brewed when it is the law to honk your horn and flash your lights at every intersection. They are causing me to lose it.

Lots and lots of people are everywhere. These foreign-tongued hagglers are fighting tooth and nail for my attention. A man has stopped to fix my shoe. A grinning lady is selling me pineapples in a currency I do not yet understand. A couple of war veterans clothed in their classic bright green uniforms are asking for money. They hold outstretched hands and war helmets while balancing themselves on crippled legs and crutches. By the looks of them, they stepped in the wrong place and went boom.

A woman is pulling my sleeve defiantly. Card is standing next to me waiting for my head and the traffic to clear. I make a mistake. Sue me. I have only been in this mess for two days.
"Where you go? I help you find!," she sounds.
"Okay, come along, if you want," I say, "What's your name?"
"Hai."
"Huh?"
"Yes."

I must have looked like an idiot, for when I turned to look at Card, he is already sighing and shaking his head. We begin following Hai (pronounced Huh?) through a raging zoo of humanity and motor bikes. It seems like it takes hours in this heat and 100% humidity.
"We're looking for a bar called Angelina's, do you know where it is?" I ask.
"Yes."

I should note, Hai neither sounds or looks confident in her response. Card is starring a hole in the back of my head. I can tell he is doing this autonomic response to stress and discontent because I can hear him muttering what a bad idea this all is to himself.

After stopping multiple times to ask for directions, Card and I are soaked from gallons of sweat and we are panting like dogs. Our next task seems clear and inevitable. We begin looking for an ice-cream shop. With absolute certainty and uncanny speed, Card handily points out a nearby shop. This encounter will foreshadow the rest of our trip. Card is amazingly reliable at locating goodies when death is on the line.

Hai tells us to look after her T-shirts while she goes to the street corner in order to ask for directions one last time. It is at this moment, Card realises where in Ha Noi we are standing. He points out a giant-sized, square building that reminds me of Communism.
"Looks like we found it ourselves," he comments as Hai returns smiling.
"Looks like we're buying T-Shirts," I say looking over Hai's head at Card.

Days before...

I recently returned to the States from a month long journey to Vietnam! I basically stayed in Hanoi (Northern Vietnam & the capital city) the entire time. Though, I traveled to Hue (the Imperial City) and to Hoi An (a more touristy, but beautiful city) for a weekend.

"Why Vietnam, why don't you go to Europe?," most everyone I knew exclaimed when I told them about my proposed excursion.
To put it simply, it was between Beijing and Hanoi. This would be my first time out and about alone. I knew one person in Hanoi, my friend and co-worker Card. So, there you go. I decided to start out my true traveling experience with a friend close by. I'm glad I did.

These next few blog postings will take the form of what I'm calling, hindsight-documentation. I am aspiring to convey the experiences I had in Vietnam as honestly as possible. After all, hindsight is 20/20. Also, I am a lazy person and did not take notes during. I am hoping continuing this task will reinforce my memory of such a great trip as well as encourage others and myself to go at it again when funds are available. Hopefully, I will have the time to add a video experience to this blog! We'll see.

For now, enjoy 'em as they come!