bullets still work

Eyes looking off to the horizon, the range of vision is obscured by low-lying buildings covered in chipping paint and signs of social wear; jutting in the distance is the city skyline of newer infrastructure. A person on a motorbike zooms across the congested lanes of this southern space. On another street intersection, a tanned shirtless child of unknown ethnic background peddles for alms day and night. The slight breeze in the blistering humid air carries the heavy scent of what could be deemed as the city stench. Ears wide open to the life here--the blaring sound of horns and sirens in almost unison. Human transport services via self-employed individuals on motorbikes--xe om--ask "xe khong anh?" "Khong can," replies the foreign voice with the shake of a hand and local grime lining the esophagus. A guard in green, or cong an rather, marches in front of the consulate for the French. A worn-down AK-47 of olden days hangs on his right shoulder on his side--some people with red-coloured passports demand entry at the gate. I wonder if the bullets still work.

To detail my experience thus far in a different regard, I will shift to a more narrative mode that entails the memory of direct interactions. On the evening of the fourteenth, I returned back to Sai Gon via bus of the TM Brothers--I would not recommend this company as the air conditioning expelled varying levels of faulty lukewarm air that was not quite cool. Before it slips my mind to some other time, the highlight of my original bus ride via the Phuong Trang company to Mui Ne was when I witnessed the sight of an overturned bus on the side of the road. Also in the same day, I had purchased two Vietnamese language newspapers from street vendors, and surprisingly I could read and understand parts of the articles. Back to the nearer present, dusk had already set in and a man on motorbike inquired that I needed a ride (specifically from him, that is.) Across the street I exchanged some cash, and then bargained it down to 15,000 dong for a ride back to 1B Pham Ngoc Thach.

The next day would be a starting point of bad luck of sorts--after Julie flew into town from Ha Noi, she, I, Phuong, and Khanh took a taxi to get some lunch. The day was cloudy and it begun to rain; to add in a degree of excitement, three food places we stopped at were already closed. We settled on lunch at Nha Hang Thuong Hai over at 21-23 Vo Van Tan--here, the elevator was awkwardly positioned wherein there was little room for comfort upon exiting as a double glass door opening inwards was a mere meter from the elevator. Also, the food here was not that great. Some time after a few games of chess and scrabble back at Chris's, we decided to stop over at Le Duyen 3 hair salon on 46 Bui Thi Xuan so that Phuong could get a new haircut; however, the electricity went out so a long delay ensued. Did I mention that I had gotten a haircut a few days ago on the same street when I went there with Chris and Daniel? Mo-hawk, fo-hawk, something of the sort; it doesn't look much like a hawk though--maybe a malnutritioned porcupine when hair product is applied. Night fell, and back at Chris's house Ben made some spaghetti for dinner.

Later on, Phuc and his friend, and Ben's two friends who do some sort of humanitarian work stopped by for a few drinks and conversation before we headed over to a nearby club upstairs at Napoli followed by a stop over at a crowded Lush at 2 Ly Tu Trong. Where the bad luck I spoke of earlier really begins is after a late-night meal of mi hoang thanh (wonton noodle soup) over at Nha Hang Hai San Vi Ca Hoang Thanh on 77-89 Nam Ky Khoi Nghia--at least I attribute it to this particular dish from this night as Julie and Phuong are still both experiencing symptoms to a lesser degree today. A few hours later, my stomach was in great sharp pains from food poisoning, and bouts of diarrhea and vomiting continued until morning when Phuong rushed me over to Family Medical Practice clinic on 34 Le Duan. After a few hours on IV to rehydrate my system, I went back to the guesthouse where I met my fellow program participants (Dave, Philip, Tam, Tien, Long, and Matt) before returning to my room to some eat some chao before drifting off to a few hours of sleep. After this recovery, we had a group dinner at Bun Ta on 136 Nam Ky Khoi Nghia--the beef in my selected dish was in a state of rubbery overcooked-ness. The night concluded with live music performances by some opening acts and then Ngoc Anh over at Phong Tra Van Nghe at 14 Lam Son.

Yesterday on the seventeenth of June started with a group breakfast over down the street at a place serving a variety of bun and Hue-styled dishes. There was a morning orientation where something or another took place, and then a group lunch over at Son Ha down the street. At about one-thirty in the afternoon, we met our local roommates--Hai (my roommate), Chien, Hanh, Thanh, and three others I will have to remember the names of later. We would take part in a day's worth of scavenger hunt activities through the city--the first was winning a game of tien len, the second was mapping the local area by pen and papar via the back of Hai's motorbike, the third was splitting open pumpkin seeds and removing the insides in one piece, the fourth was obtaining a stranger's family tree in Quan 5 (Hai did the talking and information gathering, while I went inside the local bookstore to purchase Haruki Murakami's South of the Border, West of the Sun translated into Vietnamese as Phia Nam Bien Gioi Phia Tay Mat Troi), and the fifth was putting together twenty pieces of a puzzle.

We ended up getting second place, and after Hai moved into the room at the guesthouse and some rest, Hai, Tam, Hanh, and I went to eat dinner. The first location we stopped at was a com binh dan; however, Tam is a vegetarian (for the most part) so we had dinner instead at a vegetarian restaurant called Bodhi Tree on Pham Ngu Lao. After the meal and teaching the Vietnamese roommates some informal slang, we walked around the backpacker area from park to shop to shop. One particular location stood out among these souvenir havens--an art gallery selling paintings made solely out of the wings of butterflies at 208 Bui Vien. True this may sound grotesque, but the paintings if one could call them that are really beautiful; also, supposedly the wings were only taken from butterflies that had already departed from this Earth. Two more activities followed: some overpriced orange juice at a spot looking out at the river bordering Quan 1 wherein I inquired about complex Vietnamese idea terminology from Hai and Hanh in exchange for the same in English, and a game of tien len back in the room which I took last place in (I now owe Hai a lunch.) To backtrack a bit to the backpacker district, which is the scene where we were walking further up and down the streets here, one can not but notice the overwhelming sight of handicapped individuals with missing limbs seeking alms to maintain their existences. Unlike the States and some other countries, Viet Nam does not have a social welfare system in place and seems to heavily rely on non-governmental organizations to alleviate these sorts of poverty, or otherwise have them go away somehow.

Today was a Vietnamese language placement test over at VLS--I got placed at intermediate so far, but if it is too easy, then I will get moved over to advanced. This would be good news for Trinh, who is teaching the intermediate class. Afterwards was a stop over at Poppy at 217 Nguyen Dinh Chieu with Phuong, Julie, Philip, and Son--a place specializing in frozen yogurt with toppings, which is owned by a Vietnamese woman named Thao from California.