Due to popular request, and the pokings of my own instinct, I’ve come back to California.

I had just secured a job teaching English for $20/hr (which is nothing to scoff at these days), had rented an apartment, and was learning important new phrases in Vietnamese, such as “How many rooms does your house have?” and other such necessities.

And then it just wasn’t fun anymore. read more »

Today I skipped school, did 5 hours of yoga, got an hour massage, made myself a PB&J, and ate an entire pineapple while watching 4 back-to-back episodes of Weeds on DVD. Sometimes, it just takes a little western R&R to alleviate the home sickness.

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Hello, Hanoi
(Part 11 of Many)

Across the street a man is loading into a hand-drawn cart dozens of red bricks. Each brick has 4 cylindrical holes, and one by one, he lays them on top of their comrades, each singing a soft little clank as they fall. read more »

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 10 of Many)

I’ve started Vietnamese language classes at University of Hanoi, and moved to Dong Da district, closer to the campus. I rented a room in a house, where the water is bottled and there is even a washing machine. So much for eeking it out local-style.

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Hello, Hanoi
(Part 9 of Many)

I have not posted for a few days because sometimes this world cuts me like a stone, and I have to wander around half-dead until breathable air arrives.
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And now, a brief word from the Ministry of Health.

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Being a vegetarian in Northern California is almost clichéd; however, being a vegetarian in Vietnam is no small feat. read more »

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 8 of Many)

More stories from my first couple of weeks…

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It is Têt, and Bắc has invited me to spend this special new year’s week — a week so fantastic it is like New Year’s & Christmas & 4th of July & everyone’s birthday combined, I am told — with her family in Hai Phong.
On the bus we pass by fields green with rice paddies. The air is cold and bone-drilling. I do not want to write, but I have told myself I will write under all conditions. read more »

This Saturday is February 14th. For most people it is a day of romance (Hallmark or otherwise); but it is also my brother’s birthday.

I’m taking the weekend alone in Sapa to write, think, and honor my only and lost brother. Just for him, I booked the deluxe suite with double-balcony views. “You only live once!” I can hear him say.

…Enjoy the weekend

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 6 of Many)

Still remembering my first days here…

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The rest of my day was full of pot holes and mud. Everything I wrote smelled like eggs, and I got lost 7 times over.  When I got back home to Bắc’s place, I swore I was buying my plane ticket home.

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Hello, Hanoi
(Part 5 of Many)

I am sitting on the bed– on “my” bed for the next few months, I suppose. It is a little over a foot off the floor, made from dark mahogany-looking wood, with a woven grass mat on top. My friend and host, Bắc, has given me a couple of extra blankets to act as “mattress” and sheet. An old camping sleeping bag I’ve brought from home has already proved invaluable, as the weather took a dive toward cold for the week of Têt. I have come to love my bed, somehow cozy in it’s simplicity.

As I near three weeks having been here, I smile to remember all that has changed, and all that hasn’t: read more »

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 4 of Many)

Of course, I am just as trusting of the Vietnamese family as they are of me.

Two hours ago I have stumbled in, following the signs for cafe and wifi, only to find myself sitting in someone’s dining room table cum coffee shop… and when I finally need to use the bathroom, I leave my laptop and bag (with wallet) in their living room as collateral. read more »

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 3 of Many)

We made it.

3 hours later than I set out to write, I am sitting in someone’s living room drinking strong coffee and sugared lotus seeds. The Xe Om driver, knowing a shortcut, made his way beautifully through traffic and dropped me off in the Tay Ho district. I have come to this street because my friend Jenny lives nearby, my friend Aaron owns a wine bar down the street, and I am confident that if all else fails I can beg them for some pity. It is the only place in Hanoi from where I can find my way home.

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Hello, Hanoi
(Part 2 of Many)

If you think that traveling halfway across the world to live in a busy Asian city where you don’t speak the language, don’t know your way around, and have a very thin grasp on where you’ll find your next meal will make it easier for yourself to write that elusive novel you’ve been dreaming about– I have some advice: it won’t. read more »

Hello, Hanoi
(Part 1 of Many)

I love that Taipai airport.

Most of us may have lost touch with nature, and now run frantically toward technology to make us happy, but at least the Taiwanese know how to make a good substitute.

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Eruption of chaos with children and mandarin oranges and visitors and bimbim snacks and gutteral sounds and smells of chicken livers, petral, coal, incense, burning papers, pomelos, cooked rice steam and tea; cold weather and smog and laughter and misunderstandings and stilted English (theirs) and primitive Vietnamese (mine) and sweet yellow bean cake and xoi and sleeping mats and herbs and street vendors and mangey dogs and women on bicycles with billowing parachutes of balloons and flowers and chickens in bamboo baskets and orange and cherry blossom trees, bananas on the alter, sweets trays, ground peanuts, green banh chung chay, “chuc mung nam moi” and red, red, everywhere.