Friday, March 02, 2007

Stepping Out of the Sideshow

Cambodia is now effectively behind us, we rumbled through that country like a pair of drunken elephants. There was so much recent political history that would have been interesting to talk about in depth with a local, but with such a loaded subject and given our country of origin, we tread cautiously. Cambodia has so many little quirks that make it such an interesting place; like the rural weddings which pack enough audio firepower to rival a heavy metal stadium concert, stack and stacks of speakers blasting traditional Khmer music two villages in either direction.

Also in Cambodia, a visitor would be welcomed into the country with the humiliating process of public passport claim. After dubiously paying off your immigration official (Peggy had to pony up an extra $20 because she didn't have an blank page for her visa stamp), you assembled with a crowd of several dozen people to have your passport returned. Then, a female public official wearing a serious looking uniform and even more dower looking scowl, would stand up on her podium and show a given passport to the crowd waiting captively. She'd first attempt to absolutely butcher whatever name was on the passport, grinning maniacally all the while. The unlucky holder of said passport, the one consistently awful photograph, would have to sheepishly raise their hand in accept public humiliation. Each time, the crowd would let out a muffled chuckle in many foreign languages as they compared the awkward portrait to their real-life example.

There was this one hussy of a woman who, on the plane from Bangkok to Cambodia, would not stop talking. She went on and on about how hot and sweaty she was, how her tour took the bus, but she decided to fly, how tired she was... incessantly obnoxious. Although she had been 'rode hard and put up wet', she had really big breasts and was wearing a loose fitting summer dress. As a result, the guys surrounding her were captivated with all of her titillating adventures. She had a couple of potential suitors until the debacle that was her passport photo was presented for public display. She looked like Courtney Love after a three-night stint performing in Las Vegas. Hair color indecipherable, make-up applied via shotgun blast, expression a mix between confused and comatose. The crowd gasped instead of chuckling. Fittingly, it turns out she was from Sacramento.

Hanoi is loud. Scooters here seem to outnumber people by a three to one margin, filling every road, street and alleyway like a swarm of locusts. Street too crowded? Just stack the scooters three deep on the sidewalk. Our mantra has been to use the cars and buses as bell weathers, if we can avoid those larger moving objects, the scooters will figure themselves out. Crossing the street requires one's head to swivel as if watching a fast-paced tennis match. Our cab ride from the airport almost got Peggy t-boned by not only another taxi, but the dozen scooters surrounding it. All this accompanied by an atrocious Vietnamese cover version of In the White Room by Cream, playing over the taxi's radio.

Nonetheless, we're enjoying a much more relaxed atmosphere here than in Bangkok and can see the French influence in the architecture and the food. It does feel quite foreign; all the places have had a heavy English language emphasis up until Hanoi. Say what you will about the French (ribbit), but mon dieu, those baguettes c'est magnifique.

Merchants in Hanoi seem to gather themselves according to product offering, contrary to capitalist thought of the over saturation of a dozen like stores in a single area. Our hostel is located somewhere between the scooter repair district and the uniform embroidery / official hanging banner district. Earlier today, we walked through the street haircut district, the autocad / graphic designer district, the laptop district and the wooden gearshift knob district.

The communist influence is certainly felt here as well, with the cadres watching over every corner in their bright green outfits and May Day parade style uniforms. Around the streets of the Old Quarter, you'll see veterans of the American war; seniors still dressed in their fatigues and helmets, with a ghastly expression looking very shell shocked, grey and much worse for the wear.

We spent the day doing the tourist walk, lapping a lake that still today contains a massive 200 lb. ancient turtle, whose sole reproductive pair is already embalmed in the gift shop. We visited Uncle Ho in his mausoleum and saw all of the iconic highlights of pagodas and palaces. I must say, you really gotta love the public bong smoking by men and women, young and old. Feels like the 60's all over again.

Tonight we're getting on a train to head overnight North to Sapa, where the indigenous village tribes come out to trade in weekend mercantile markes. Should be a tourist crush of a small village town, but I can always Photoshop them out.

posted by ncawthon at 9:07 PM