Vietnam 32: Goodbye Vietnam

We’re finishing our last days in Hanoi and very soon will be on our way back to Washington. It’s hard to believe that three years have gone by since we stepped off the plane at Noi Bai airport. Over the past ten years, we’ve been very fortunate in our postings. We have lived in great cities, worked with interesting people, and gotten to experience different cultures. In Thailand, Uganda and, now, Vietnam, we’ve come to feel at home and it is sad to say goodbye. (cue violins)

As I look back on our time in Vietnam, I decided to do a quick list (ok, in hindsight, not so quick) of some of my favorite things and some of my not-so-favorite. In actuality, the positive has far outweighed the negative, but, if I’m being honest, I can’t say every day has been ponies and rainbows. But, I think that is life in any city in any country, though the specifics, no doubt, are different. Anyway, here are three things I like and three things I don’t like about Hanoi.

Three things I like about Hanoi . . .

Children: Except when sitting next to me on airplanes, Vietnamese children are remarkably happy and seemingly well-behaved. Everyday, as I head to or from work or to meetings, I see grandfathers carrying children across the street, grandmothers following little kids to feed them spoonfuls of dinner, parents buying balloons or treats for their kids. We have photos of little girls in long braids and little boys in new suits running through Tong Nhat park during Tet. Kids use the sidewalks to learn how to ride tricycles or bikes. Across the street, pajama-clad big sisters lead a group of younger siblings and friends in a game of tag. When it gets cold, parents love to clad their children in anthropomorphic winter coats. The streets teem with little tigers, bears, and dogs.

Streetlife: People have small, unairconditioned apartments. Vietnamese like crowds. Put those two together and you have a city with a very vibrant streetlife. So, visitors have a great opportunity to see details of everyday activities that we miss in suburban USA with houses behind fences and backyards. In addition to the child-rearing described above, we often see pajama-clad women heading to and from local markets in the early morning. Mini-markets dot the inner city, with shoppers haggling with vendors all the time. During the day, market women carry fruits, vegetables, and flowers on their bikes or over their shoulders to local street markets. Throughout the day and into the evening, groups of men (with the occasional woman) sit on plastic stools quaffing a brew at the local bia hoi (beer stall). Other groups dot the sidewalk enjoying noodles, soups, grilled meats etc.

When things cool down at night, the park across the street becomes an urban whirlwind of leisure activity. Under the (not-so) benevolent gaze of one of the few remaining statues of Lenin left in the world, neighborhood boys play soccer, groups of teens practice break-dancing moves, matrons bat around a badminton shuttlecock, and little kids zoom around in electric cars. At the same time, other groups of boys practice bike tricks, hawkers sell tea and snacks, and senior citizens gather for exercises.

Buildings: Hanoi architecture presents a wide variety of building styles, materials, and design. Large, new office towers and luxury hotels pop up over smaller commercial buildings or homes. Zoning is a foreign concept and in many areas, rows of varied colored and multi-storied residences pile up on each other. Fascades almost never match the neighbor’s with traditional Vietnamese or Chinese carved shutters next to wrought iron next to sliding glass. Some owners add a floor or a wing as they save up the money, leading to some buildings looking like a child’s building block creation, with top stories wider than those below. Other buildings have a whiff of Dr. Seuss and seem to alternate floors towards and away from the street as they get higher. Almost all buildings are extremely narrow, no matter how tall, with blocks full of structures jammed together like a compressed accordion. I don’t mean to criticize. Particularly from a distance (say across a small lake), it creates a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors and textures. Many home-owners take great pride in their houses/buildings, with beautiful exteriors that they maintain wonderfully. There is always something to catch the eye or make you wonder how (or why) they built something the way they did.

In the Old Quarter and the French Quarter, hundreds of French colonial buildings and traditional Vietnamese tube houses (named for their long, thin structure) remain, often with their original yellow fronts and dark green window shutters. Higher floors, in particular, often remain unchanged, with occasional art deco flourishes such as curved stone or wrought iron porches and circular windows. Flowering plants droop down over rust colored roof tiles. Most blocks have small neighborhood temples, often in ornate Chinese designs. On larger streets, pagodas attract crowds on special days or right before national exams.

. . . And three that I don’t

Traffic: The downside to development. While incomes grow and the city modernizes, road infrastructure has not. Every year the number of motorbikes on the roads in Vietnam increases by 20%, but, guess what, the width of the roads in Hanoi has not kept pace. And that’s not even starting on all the cars that now clog the thoroughfares. I honestly think that Hanoi has more Bentleys (yes, Bentleys) than D.C. And that’s representative of many newly rich urbanites who buy cars primarily status symbols. Despite the many narrow lanes, you see many more 8 cylinder behemoths than subcompacts.

And the behavior on the roads . . . . Maybe I’m just a big sissy or one of those old folks shaking his walking stick in impotent rage, but, man, after 3 years, I still can get riled up with some of the shameless antics drivers pull. The glare you receive when you encounter a motorbike going the wrong way on the sidewalk. Boys weaving in and out of traffic at high speeds are accidents waiting (and sometimes not waiting – I’ve seen 3 dead bodies -- to happen). Every day I am amazed parents who clearly treasure their children place them on front of scooters (what I call rocket launchers) without helmets. Though many of our Vietnamese friends brag that the lack of traffic laws allows drivers to use their creativity to respond to crowded streets, I’ve also noted a complete inability to respond to rain or trains, causing intractable back ups. Like the scene from the parade in Animal House with the band being led into the wall and piling up as the members keep trying to walk through the wall, Vietnamese motorbike drivers never back up, even when trapped in an intersection in a thunderstorm. This inability to think in three-dimensions completely shuts down areas of the city.

Hygiene: If you don’t care for public urination, Hanoi is not for you. Now, I understand differing cultural norms. Still … Public urination and occasional defecation? Many men view every tree (or sign or wall or bus stop) as a possible urinal. I remember running in the park and turning the corner to see a man squatting with his pants down reading the newspaper like he was at home behind closed doors. Our friends who have served in India correctly note that they have witnessed more public bathroom visits than we. But, India is really, really poor. Vietnam is now a middle-income country (if newly) and Hanoi is increasingly prosperous. Yet, parents continue to hold children over the gutter, when they clearly could just take them into their homes or a store. .

Disorganized development: The flipside to the architecture discussion above. I fear that Hanoi will soon follow Bangkok and Hong Kong as the modern takes over. Worse, I fear the Hanoi will follow the Chinese path with traditional neighborhoods replaced by cheap, featureless office-blocks with no character or personality. Every day, we encounter new construction sites. The day before a small shop or a house. Now, a gaping hole. And many of the buildings going up today will come down in 10 to 15 years. Too often these new buildings are functional at best and eyesores at worst. Many mar the beauty of Hanoi, leading to traffic, dust, and disorder. Though the local government apparently has a plan, I have seen little thought given to historic preservation. As Hanoi has developed, families opened stores in the front rooms of French colonial buildings and Vietnamese tube houses. To advertise their wares, many have installed large, modern and ugly signboards that cover up the beautiful buildings behind them.

Vietnam 31: Tam Dao

Hanoi is burning. Maybe not literally, but certainly figuratively. It’s been over 100 degrees for much of the past month. Hanoi summers normally are quite hot, but usually not the steam bath we’ve had this year. A quick walk to the corner means a change of shirts, and three showers a day aren’t uncommon. Add in traffic congestion, dust, and a few other pungent smells and there are times that we retreat back into our apartment. Like a snow day in DC., it’s just too uncomfortable to go outside, so we watch videos without guilt.

At the same time, our tour in Hanoi is winding down and we want to see and do as much as we can before we leave. To escape the heat, we joined our friends Nisha and Patrick for a day trip to Tam Dao. Located about 50 miles northwest of Hanoi, the low mountain of Tam Dao is the leading edge of a range that leads north into China. On one of the 5 or 6 days per year when rain and wind have taken the smog out of the air, it is visible from within the city limits. Yet, it’s a different world from urbanized Hanoi.

On our way to the mountain, we stopped at the bear rescue center run by the Hong Kong-based NGO, Animals Asia. I’ve worked with Animals Asia a bit as part of my wildlife protection portfolio and they do a wonderful job rescuing bears from the bear bile farms that have sprung up in Quang Ninh province near Halong Bay. Most of the bears have lived many years in painful captivity and so cannot be returned to the wild. The Tam Dao bear rescue center is a world-class facility that provides excellent medical care for the bears to nurse them back to health. Once in better shape and adjusted to their new surroundings, the bears can socialize and roam around aeveral acres of fenced in and protected outdoor scrubland.

After visiting the bears, we wound our way up the mountain. It’s a popular weekend escape for many Hanoi residents, so we were not alone is trying to beat the heat. The town of Tam Dao sits at about 3,000 feet and, when not hazy, has a terrific view of the Red River and Hanoi. It’s also a bit cooler than the plains below and so instead of feeling oppressively hot it was merely uncomfortably hot – a big step up. 90 degrees has never felt so pleasant. We ate a picnic lunch at a waterfall, together with a few dozen Vietnamese holiday makers. Unfortunately, the local population hasn’t yet taken to conservation and so the area was littered with soda bottles, plastic bags and cookie wrappers.

I had been to Tam Dao once before in the middle of winter and it was freezing as a wet wind blew from the north. It was also empty. Not so in the summer, as hotels and restaurants are full of families eager to sample the local specialties. In particular, the su su. Su su is the vine of the chayote fruit/vegetable. Sauteed with garlic, it’s a mainstay in northern Vietnamese kitchens. As we walked down the street, we saw families loading the trunks of their cars full with bundles of the stuff.

A two hour walk around town without fear of getting run over or overcome by exhaust fumes was a nice break in a busy Hanoi summer. Now, for the final stretch before we head back to the States in early August.

Vietnam 30: Food

I like the Vietnamese food at Eden Center in Northern Virginia more than I like the Vietnamese food in Hanoi. There. I said it. I have violated the cardinal rule of the (semi) well-traveled – always make your friends who don’t travel abroad feel as though they’re missing something special that they just can’t get at home. Show your worldliness by automatically assuming that if it’s produced abroad it has to be better than the pale imitations crafted in the U.S.

But, U.S.-prepared Vietnamese food better than that on the streets of Hanoi? How on earth can I say this? Well, let me first try to regain my snob credentials by stating that Thai food in Thailand is much, much better than Thai food in the U.S. Hard to compare Ugandan food to that in the States, since I haven’t yet found an American place that serves matoke and groundnut sauce. Second, let me try to limit my statement geographically. We live in Hanoi and though I’ve traveled around the country a reasonable amount, I only consider myself knowledgeable about a small segment of northern Vietnamese cuisine. Southern Vietnamese food I think is considered (at least by the southern Vietnamese) more flavorful than the food from the north. Finally, I need to confess my own personal limitations. I get sick. Easily. Unlike my wife’s iron stomach, my digestive tract seems to be constructed from tissue paper and balsa wood. She can lick a gutter and feel fine. I can watch her lick that gutter and need to be hospitalized. Therefore, my street food exposure was prematurely halted after a bad experience with pho. I’m sure I’ve missed a lot.

So, what’s my problem with the food in Hanoi? Well, it’s actually not a problem. The food is fine. But, that’s the thing. It’s supposed to be awesome. There are plenty of good Vietnamese restaurants for dinner and many solid storefront shops for lunch. However, I think we set the bar a bit high before coming here. Anything short of wonderful would disappoint. Plus, Vietnam is still, very much, a developing country. While restaurants serve a wide-variety of dishes, the quality of produce and meats doesn’t often match that in the U.S.

Or, to be honest, preferences are different. One of our fastest growing agricultural exports to Vietnam is the chicken pieces that U.S. poultry growers can’t sell to U.S. customers. Vietnamese consumers gobble them up and view them as tasty cuts with fewer hygiene questions than some locally produced chickens. Since the Vietnamese like tougher dark cuts, meals during upcoming travel have led to near-dislocated jaws. Northern Vietnamese food often is fried (no problem with that), typically served with fresh herbs. Though fresh herbs in theory sound wonderful, in reality, in the U.S. we’re used to those herbs being cooked as part of the dish. Shredded raw mint, basil and other greens taste ok, but seem to my tastes a bit like eating a forest.

Anyway, enough criticism. We’ve had some excellent dishes in our time in Vietnam, many of which we haven’t seen much of in the U.S. One Hanoi specialty is cha ca – pan fried river fish marinated in turmeric and dill, then sautéed with green onions and served on top of rice noodles with toasted peanuts, chilis, fresh spring onion, herbs, fish sauce and, for the brave, shrimp paste (fermented raw shrimp heads). We also love northern bun cha, grilled pork patties served with noodles and herbs in a sweetened broth. And, of course, pho originated in northern Vietnam and a soothing bowl of beef or chicken pho spiced with extra garlic and chili sauce is just the ticket on a wet and chilly Hanoi winter day. In our trips to the south (few Hanoi restaurants do a great job with southern Vietnamese food), we love banh xeo (pancakes stuffed with shrimp, pork and bean sprouts). Bun Bo Hue from the ancient capital is a tart and spicy soup, while Cao Lau noodles from Hoi An combine crunchy fried noodles, greens, and roast pork.

Vietnam is a wonderful place for fruit lovers. Due to its length and variety of ecosystems, which range from tropical jungles to evergreen-covered mountains, we get a tremendous variety of produce. Among our favorites are the tart and sweet mangosteen, rich custard apples, grapefruit-like pomelos, luscious mangos, nearly seedless watermelons, and juicy lychees and longans. It also has what people describe to me as wonderful papaya. But I’ve always found papaya to be the most disappointing of fruit – looks like a sunset, tastes like a urinal cake. (Durian, while sulphurous can hardly be called a disappointment, since it announces its unique odiferous stink from a hundred yards away. In short, you are forewarned). From mountainous areas we get oranges, strawberries, apricots and quince.

We also have access to other great foods. Every time we travel to Dalat in the Central Highlands we load up on dried fruits, spicy deer jerky and artichoke tea. The coastal areas produce bountiful seafood. Hanoi has a growing international restaurant scene, and when we tire of the local fare, we can choose from everything from Ukrainian dumplings to Morroccan tagines. So, it’s hard to complain. Or, at least, hard for anyone to take those complaints seriously.

Bonus list of foods that three years ago I would not have thought I would ever eat:

Congealed lobster blood
Snake bile
Duck brains
Pig hearts (I initially thought they were mushrooms. Big surprise.)

Favorite Hanoi Restaurants:

Highway 4: Far northern Vietnamese dishes and rice wines
Cay Cau: Tasty Vietnamese, a bit spicier than most
Quan An Ngon: Upscale street food. A good mix of locals and expats.
Cha Ca Anh Vu: Near Embassy. Excellent Cha Ca.
Halia: Hanoi branch of Singaporean Restaurant. Expensive, but very well-prepared Western and Singaporean dishes.
La Badiane: Flavorful French, with interesting presentations.
Luna D’Autunno: Old standby. Great pizzas and pastas.
May Manh (Fortuna Hotel): All you can eat dim sum.
InterContinental Hotel: Great Sunday brunch (though its not the Bangkok Four Seasons)
Ete: Best burger in Hanoi

Vietnam 29: Taipei

As part of our diplomatic balancing act, we felt that if we visited Beijing, we had to visit Taipei. Actually, we are fortunate to have friends serving in both places and our friend Quan joined Liz and me as we went to see my old work colleague Hanscom, from my time in the Economic Section in Bangkok. Hanscom and his partner, Eric, were kind enough to put us up over Hanscom’s last weekend in Taiwan before heading to the U.S. for training for his upcoming tour in Iraq. I imagine he might experience a slight change in quality of life over the next year.

Anyway, I think that Taipei gets rather overlooked when people (read: me) think about Asia. It doesn’t have the pizzazz of Shanghai, the exoticness of Bangkok (although, frankly, after recent events, Bangkok needs a lot more normality and a lot less mystery), or the history of Siem Reap. It’s a working city in an industrialized, island nation. Lots of neon at night gives it color, though by day it doesn’t dazzle. Nevertheless, I think that quality of life is quite high. And for our 60 or so hours on the ground, we really enjoyed ourselves.

Taipei’s skyline (with one notable exception) is unremarkable, though the low mountains that surround the city give it a nice green background, when visible through the haze. With about 2 million people, it’s a big, but not a mega-city, and its modern infrastructure (and blessedly wide and uncluttered sidewalks) made it easy to get around. Like Beijing, English language skills are somewhat lacking, though we saw several English language academies and met several friends of Hanscom and Eric living in Taipei teaching English. Limited linguistic familiarity has not stopped Taiwan from importing almost every U.S. franchise in existence, and we passed by such stalwarts as “Macaroni Grill” as we strolled along the high-rent district.

Taipei 101, also referred to as “the bird’s nest”, due its unique design, truly towers over the rest of Taipei. While Shanghai’s mega-structures cluster together in bunches like karst peaks in a steep sloped mountain chain, Taipei 101 (which gets its name from its 101 stories) has no competition among the scattered 30-40 story hillocks. For about 6 years, until recently displaced by the Burj in Dubai, Taipei 101 ruled as the tallest building in the world. Liz and I took the world’s fastest elevator (or so we were told) to the 88th floor where we gazed out into the . . . mist. Sadly, it was a foggy day and we only had a great view of our fellow tourists. I did, however, buy a giant commemorative Taipei 101 pencil, so not all was lost.

Quan, Liz and I also took a 30 minute taxi-ride to see the National Palace Museum, which contains a huge collection of antiquities the Kuomintang brought with them to Taipei when they fled the mainland in 1949. It was filled to the brim with tour groups of middle-aged Taiwanese and mainland Chinese visitors. I’m not one to get between a people and their heritage, but, apparently, that’s what I was doing, as these groups had no compunction shoving me aside in the rush to view such wonders as the “Jade Cabbage.” In a museum filled with elegant Ming vases, striking Qing calligraphy, and creative Han bronze work, the museum had to set up special lines to see a gemstone carved like a vegetable. To be fair, it was quite well-carved and certainly unique – fist sized, with a green base and white leaves. But, it was a cabbage. Anyway, I was intrigued by what I call the professional “shushers” employed by the museum, suit clad men and women who would walk around and hold up a red sign whenever the pods of retirees, overcome by excitement, would get too loud. I am proud to say that neither Liz nor I were shushed at any time during our stay.

Of course, busy tourists need a break from the hectic pace of temple-hopping and museum-stopping, so we joined Hanscom and Eric for an afternoon at a local hot spring. A good hot soak later we were ready to eat. Taiwan has a great reputation for food, which had absolutely nothing to do with our decision to visit. Though we weren’t there long enough to enjoy many meals, we enjoyed what we ate, including spicy Shaanxi cuisine and tasty dishes from Yunnan. Strangely, we actually didn’t try any local delicacies, though we ate Taiwanese dumplings while in Beijing.

Vietnam 28: Beijing

As our time in Vietnam winds down, we are trying to use our remaining days to visit friends throughout the region. Over the four day weekend at the end of April/beginning of May (Vietnamese Independence Day/May Day), we got to spend four gloriously sunny days in Beijing. Our friends who serve at the Embassy describe Beijing weather as dry sandstorms in the spring, an oven in the summer, and a damp freezer during the winter. Not much evidence of it during our visit when we experienced beautiful, spring-like conditions, complete with flowering trees. Maybe they’ve been making it all up to justify their hardship pay. OK, maybe one day it got thick and hazy, but not so bad.

We stayed at one of the best hotels we have yet experienced – the Opposite House, a stylish and chic boutique hotel in the heart of a newly developed shopping and nightlife area on Sanlitun, near the diplomatic district. Sleek rooms, with lots of wood. Shower was like a Nordic sauna. Excellent dining and, best of all, a free mini-bar. We’d come home stuffed from eating with friends and I’d raid the bar for cookies, just because I could. It’s amazing what can get you excited.

Of course, we did manage to pull ourselves away from the free Toblerone bars to do some sightseeing. Primarily, an outing to the Great Wall. Though I had frequently seen photos of the Wall and should have known better, in my mind, I always pictured softly undulating hills parading off into the horizon. In actuality, it’s closer to a bunch of craggy peaks. We again had a beautiful, clear day as the Beijing haze lifted when the sun reached its apex. Though warm, a nice breeze blew as we took a 10k hike on a part of the wall in a sparsely populated area 80 miles northeast of Beijing, separating historical China from Inner Mongolia. Along with serious trekkers, such as ourselves, we encountered many Chinese families out enjoying the holiday weekend. Kids playing, adults walking dogs, women struggling along the crumbling stone in high-heels. The crowds cleared out after a guard house or two as the wall soared uphill in less well-maintained areas. In a few flat areas, we strolled, but we also had to contend with several areas of dozens of steps marching upward and exposed to winds or we had to scramble down other areas filled with rocky scree.

The Forbidden City most certainly did not live up to its name on the holiday weekend, when it opened its doors wide for tens of thousands of holidaying Chinese, plus me and our friends Mark and Terri. In scope, it’s quite remarkable and I tried to picture how this collection of buildings from the Ming and Qing empires must have towered over the capital, and, indeed, the country. Now, however, it appears that many of the buildings are empty inside and, instead, we got an up-close look at the burgeoning middle-class milling about the grounds, taking photographs, grabbing snacks, and trying to stay out of the mid-afternoon sun.

The morning before our departure, we visited the Temple of Heaven, the park surrounding which is a paradise for the retired. When we arrived at 9 am, the area was jam-packed with the over 70-crowd, busy at a number of activities: dominoes, cards (men’s games, women’s games and mixed), dancing (traditional, central Asian, big band), singing (modern, Chinese opera), calligraphy, calisthenics. Groups enjoying one musician blended in to those listening to an opera performance 15 feet away, yet everyone seemed happy enjoying the spectacle and spending time with friends. I’m not sure how pleasurable it is in the chill of winter or the heat of summer, but it made for a great morning in the spring. The temple, itself, was quite impressive, particularly the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest, with its bright carvings and paintings towering over the center of the park.

As non-Chinese speakers, we were always on the look out for evidence of English. However, as in my other visits to China, I noted how little English was used. Indeed, when we did see English on signage on the streets or in shops it almost inevitably fell into the category of the bizarre “Chinglish” which makes sense in neither language. By comparison, in Vietnam, many signs look like they’ve been written by someone who studied English as a second language. In China, they seem like they’re written by someone who looked up the words in a dictionary.

We had one or two opportunities to visit areas of Beijing a little bit beyond the primary must-sees. One evening, we joined some friends for a drink at a bar in one of the hutongs, or old, traditional alleys, many (most?) of which have been torn up as city planner creates the new, modern Beijing. Many lament the loss of these communities and the destruction of the city’s history. Others note that these were small, cramped buildings with no heat or indoor plumbing. It’s a trade-off and I hesitate to urge the preservation of the uncomfortable but traditional for my viewing pleasure, though I note that from I’ve read, many Chinese wish that a better balance between the future and the past could be found.

We also spent an afternoon in Dashanze, a former warehouse area transformed into a collection of art galleries, boutiques, and restaurants. It covers several blocks including everything from the traditional to the highly avant garde. Some interesting works of art and some things that I didn’t get. As we wandered around, we joined groups of locals and out-of-towners taking in the artistic scene. I’m not so sure of the artistic purity of the spot, given the large number of knick-knacks on offer, but it certainly had a lively, creative feel.

Thanks to recommendations from friends in Beijing, we ate very well – including dumplings from Taiwan and spicy dishes from the northeast. At one upscale spot seemingly popular with both Beijingers and tourists, we enjoyed roasted duck expertly carved at our table. At the end, the chef split the bird’s head in two and offered me the brains. With all that pressure, I actually ate a bit, though to Liz’s relief I did not immediately go into convulsions. We also ate some terrific noodles at a literal hole in the wall – you have to enter via a courtyard, through the back door of the building and then travel through the tiny kitchen to get to the dining area. Of course, a local chef had highlighted the place in a magazine for Beijing expats, so we can hardly claim to be unique. That said, there are a few places I’m glad we missed, most importantly, the restaurant whose sign said “Beef Noodles to Explode Stomach.” Not sure how many customers that attracts.

Vietnam 27: English

As a native English-speaker in a foreign city, I’m of two minds about how much English is spoken around me. Since I was trained in Vietnamese, I like it when I can communicate in that language. As someone whose Vietnamese remains flawed at best, I love it when I can communicate at all. Which puts me into a quandary. Do I struggle through conversations or hope that I can get my point across in English? I have to admit that after the first option hits some road bumps, I quickly switch to the second. And this is becoming easier and easier as the local community upgrades its English-comprehension.

In Hanoi, speaking English is a key to upward mobility. It’s a key to good jobs and the ability to join in the global community. Many countries and cultures vie for influence among the Vietnamese population and the U.S. is by no means the automatic choice (though we are quite popular here right now), but the English language blows away other foreign tongues as the choice for communication with the rest of the world.

What does this mean in practical terms? Well, kids start learning English early in grade school. But families with the means often send their children to private tutors before then. Or parents will teach themselves English to give their kids a head start. Vietnamese schools typically rely on rote-learning, so many youngsters who can read and write English pretty well lack the confidence to speak it. Nevertheless, I remember a trip upcountry to Cao Bang where a 9 or 10 year old screwed up his nerve in front of his friends and started a halting conversation with me in English. His peers crowded around in wonder as he kept asking me basic questions; “how old are you?” “where are you from?” The number of students traveling to the U.S. for college has skyrocketed with Vietnam jumping from the 22nd largest supplier to number 8 in one year. While many students go to Japan or China or France, many more are going to other English-language countries, such as the UK, New Zealand, Australia or Singapore.

Of course, there is a flip side to this. And that’s the good impression foreigners make when they attempt to use Vietnamese. Vietnamese seem consistently amazed when I start a conversation in their language and will routinely praise the most limited language capacity as “rat gioi” (extremely skillful). Responding “ciao em” to teens who yell out “hello” is guaranteed to get a double-take or, at least, surprised giggles. Though it is still very useful to speak Vietnamese with cabbies, many of whom come from small towns and speak nothing but Vietnamese, at many restaurants, shops, and stores, the attendants try to speak English as much as possible to hone their skills for a better shot at an office job or to pass university examinations.

English also gives goods and services cachet. It’s remarkable to me how many shops around town owned by Vietnamese with wholly Vietnamese clientele use English in their advertisements. Every fashion store is a “collection.” New restaurants are “opening soon,” and there are plenty of “sales” and “discounts.” Even more, English phrasing is used to plug the goods, even though sometimes it sounds a bit off to a native-speaker. There is “Teeny Pizza: High School Restaurant,” for the kids, beauty products at a store that will “Make you lovely and more lovely” and clothing for the office gal at the shop that sells outfits “for women who use computers.”

I don’t mean to mock. I am thoroughly impressed by the rapid adoption of my native-tongue. Our housekeeper speaks English better than I speak Vietnamese – with no training. By comparison, in my (admittedly short) trips to big, modern Chinese cities, I saw no advertisements in English. In the hotels and restaurants catering to foreign tourist, the garbled English seemed to have been translated by way of Farsi and Hungarian. In Hanoi, at least, the tense may not always be correct, but I’m always pretty sure of the meaning.

When we lived in Thailand, I loved looking out for shirts and jackets in non-sense English, wondering why the manufacturer chose this or that collection of random nouns, verbs and adjectives. I still see some of that in Hanoi, but more frequently, I see grammatically correct phrases or sentences, but wonder about the possible linkages between style and substance. For example, on the street yesterday, a girl biked by wearing a “Grateful Dead Forever” shirt, but done in sequins and not with the typical skull or dancing teddy bear favored by U.S. deadheads.

Vietnam 26: Hue

Mom and Dad once again invaded/blessed us with their presence in Vietnam and we did some touring. After a few days in sunny Hoi An, we drove up the coast to Hue. It’s a beautiful three hour drive. First, up the coast through Danang, passing a several mile stretch of massive hotel construction. Danang has a beautiful white sand beach – known as “China Beach” during the war. Within 2 years, the 20 kilometer stretch from Hoi An to Danang should have thousands of 5-star hotel rooms, golf courses and a (huge and tacky) casino. I go to Danang frequently for work and am always impressed by its well-regulated traffic (trust me, if you lived in Hanoi, you’d also be thrilled by well-regulated traffic), modern infrastructure, and fresh seafood. Anyway, Mom and Dad got to see the airport and a highway.

Once past Danang, the three hour drive took us up and over the mountains in Bach Ma national park along the coast. The road winds up along the mountainside overlooking the East (South China) Sea. As we approached heights of close to 2,000 feet, we enjoyed a wide panorama first of Danang in its bay and then, once we cleared the pass, of the coastline up to Hue. On a sunny day, you can see for miles. On a hazy day, somewhat less, but it’s still a wonderful view. It’s always windy, so the temperature was quite mild. Once we finished traversing the hairpin turns on the way down the mountain, we could look back at the cloud-covered mountain tops marching to the ocean.

Hue served as the imperial capital of Vietnam during the reign of the Nguyen Emperors from the dynasty’s founding in 1802 by Gia Long to its end, with the abdication of Emperor Bao Dai in 1945. The Perfume River bisects the city, with the citadel and the Imperial Purple Palace on the north and much of the modern city on the south. In the hills and valleys surrounding the city lie several elaborate tombs for the Nguyen Emperors. Unlike many Vietnamese waterways, the Perfume River has not yet been subject to heavy industrial and urban pollution. While I can’t see it actually lives up to its name, at the least, you could call it the “Neutral Smelling” River or the “That Actually Smells Like Water” River.

We stayed at the Le Residence hotel, which was constructed as part of the French Governors residence in the early part of the 20th century. Newly expanded, it retains its art deco architecture, with beautiful rooms over the river. Liz and I enjoyed massages at the hotel Spa, where I saw a copy of “AsiaSpaMen” magazine. Now, I can imagine a fairly large market for a certain type of men’s spa in Asia, but this seemed to be on the up and up, which made me wonder how large the target demographic would be for Asian Men who like spas or for Men who like (legitimate) Asian spas.

The tombs of the Nguyen Emperors and the Imperial Palace are the main tourist attractions in Hue. We visited three tombs – Minh Mang and Tu Duc, from early in the 19th century, and Khai Dinh (Bao Dai’s predecessor) from the early 20th century. The sites were well chosen – nestled into mountain valleys or along rivers and streams, carefully situated according to Feng Shui principles. With rolling hills and fresh-scented pine, they were a far cry from hazy Hanoi. The tombs for Tu Duc and Minh Mang were (not surprisingly) very Asian, most likely modeled on Chinese architecture. Khai Dinh, who served as Emperor when the French were firmly established in Indochina, had a tomb that merged European and Asian styles remarkably well. The Imperial Palace was undergoing some repairs and didn’t impress us as much as the tombs. I did, however, almost walk into a 9-inch spider in the men’s room (I have photos), so the visit didn’t lack for excitement (read: terror).

Into every life a little rain must fall. For us, it was the food in Hue. Throughout Vietnam, Hue is known as the place to get the best Vietnam food. From imperial cuisine to spicy local dishes, this is the place to eat well. Except, we didn’t. Even Liz’s co-workers from Hue pushed us towards the tourist traps. Too much time worrying about presentation, less time focused on taste. I know it must be there and won’t rest until we find it. We did, however, find a couple of nice, low-end places, but nothing like we had expected. Nevertheless, as per usual, I returned home with a nice batch of food poisoning – the souvenir that just keeps giving.

Vietnam 25: Shanghai

For two countries that border each other and share a similar governing ideology, Vietnam and China do not make air transportation easy. Though Shanghai airlines recently inaugurated thrice weekly service from Hanoi to Shanghai, the 2 am departure and 5:30 am arrival didn’t seem too appealing. Instead, I chose the Dragon Air flight connecting through Hong Kong. What it lacks in directness, it makes up for in scheduling (11 am departure). Plus, I got to use the Cathay Pacific business lounge at the Hong Kong airport (American Airlines, you could learn something).

I spent four days in Shanghai visiting my good college friend Brian McKay. When not getting schooled at NBA 2K9, Brian was a warm and generous host, indulging my desire for good Chinese food and showing me Shanghai’s vibrant nightlife. It’s impossible to get to know a mammoth metropolis like Shanghai in 4 days, but I came away with a few impressions.

Shanghai is huge and Brian noted that is has more skyscrapers than New York City. With about 20 million people, the metro area stretches on for miles horizontally and hundreds of feet vertically. It has modernized at a remarkable pace, with the Pu Dong area of towering office buildings and hotels constructed on a riverbank that not so long ago was largely barren. In other areas, modern shopping malls have sprouted along bustling arteries, connected to residential neighborhoods through a modern metro system. And, they’re not done. As signs everywhere tell you, Shanghai will host the World Expo in 2010 and the city fathers are hustling to complete preparations. Its per capita income of over $11,000 is over 3 times the national average and roughly 11x that of Vietnam. Yet, at the same time, compared to Hanoi, it seemed an oasis of peace and tranquility. Sure, there are motorbikes, but most of them ran on electricity rather than the noisy two stroke engines in Vietnam. Almost nobody honked. Most drivers seemed to follow traffic guidance. Nice.

Like many Asian cities, as Shanghai modernizes, it faces the conundrum of what to keep and what to bulldoze. I don’t know what the future holds, but, for now at least, not all areas of Shanghai have yet become the new set for Bladerunner. Beside the Huang Pu river, the old Western banking houses built in the early part of the 20th century along the Bund remain, some of which now host upscale retail establishments and restaurants. From across the river in the evening, you can watch their stately fascades brightly lit up. In the French concession, there are apartment buildings that seem magically transported from Paris, complete with tree-shrouded boulevards. On my first day, the weather was beautiful, enabling me to stroll through parks and watch retirees practice tai chi or ballroom dancing.

Shanghai has long been a trade and financial center and does not have the historical monuments of Beijing, the beautiful scenery of Hangzhou or the terra cotta warriors of Xian. Yet, I enjoyed strolling through the ultra-modern urban planning museum, with its giant 3-D map of the city and its collection of old propaganda posters (the posters that I viewed were more colorful and Norman Rockwell-like than those in Hanoi, many of which focus on the struggle against the French and the U.S.). The Shanghai museum has a great collection of Tang Dynasty Buddhist statues and pottery. Outside, I struggled to avoid the clutches of friendly, well-dressed young folks, who kept trying to convince me to join them at tea shops. I can be a bit oblivious, but even I’m not getting sucked into purchasing over-priced tea from touts.

Liz and I typically judge a vacation based on the quality of food which we consumed. Using that standard, I’d call my trip a success. Brian took me on a tour of Chinese regional cuisine, allowing me to sample sweeter Shangai dishes, Cantonese favorites from Hong Kong, well-seasoned Yunnanese plates, and spicy Szechuan cooking. From neighborhood shops to modern and sleekly designed restaurants catering to expats, it’s all there. Plus, access to all sorts of other Asian cuisine and Western bars and bistros.

After dinner, Shanghai has many entertainment options. In Hanoi, the sidewalks are rolled up at 10 pm, so I was unprepared and paralyzed by choice. One night, we went to see jazz, another a bar specializing in Belgian beers, and finally a trip to a salsa club, where I tried to shuffle my feet gamely when dragged onto the dance floor. I had thought Bangkok was remarkably cosmopolitan, and it is, but I think that Shanghai’s new wealth and huge population (local, but also expat – including over 25,000 Americans resident in Shanghai) put it in another league. Liz and I had never really considered a China posting. Now, who knows?