That last post was ghey. Tranquility? O' come on. Waves reflecting the sky? Beat me with a stick – I might as well start writing pop songs that has some combination of:
- In the night
- My angel
- You're beautiful
- Fly with me
- Let me take you far away
- Where you want to be, with me
- Uhhhhhh
Phu Quoc was a blast. But my best experience of the island didn't come on the island, it came during the ghoulish van ride from Rach Gia to Saigon. I got the back seat, after bargaining like hell with the shankmeisters 'bus operators' to lower the van ride from 150,000 dong to 130,000 dong. Normally, the going rate is 60,000 dong – but hey, since it's Lunar New Year, everyone has the right to jack all the prices up.
The good thing about sitting in the back is that I got to meet a friend. She's past the mid-century mark and it was her first time traveling outside of the island. She and her husband of 30 years are going to Hanoi, to his hometown for a long overdue visit. After exchanging pleasantries about the island and admiring the scenery of: food stalls, stores, houses on stilts, rice fields, rubbish dump, rivers (wash, rinse & repeat), we stared straight ahead for a while.
Then she says to me, "Traveling is good, I suppose, but I can't help but feel a little sad about leaving my home... it would be about dinner at this time in the afternoon." Then she nodded emphatically and blinked a few times to remind me that yes, this was her first time outside of her village and dammit to god, she's already traveled more than I ever could possibly hope.
Today? Today was crap. Finding an apt in Hanoi/SE Asia is a bitch. We walked from one part of the city to another based on vague leads, calling defunct phone numbers and working our way through the subtleties of price gauging. More than not, I find that people often feel the need to preach whenever they hear our story: YuppieNomad coming back to her homeland to volunteer in some capacity with her educational background and I am a bumbling bum of a writer. Highlights of today:
- The hotel concierge - about the perils of volunteering in Vietnam, bargaining, sightseeings and prices for cyclos, meals, clothing, etc. Of course, the prices he quoted are the best.
- A prospective landlord - about tax evasion of other landlords, the lack of available sublets, his generosity towards previous tenants, his spacious (slightly expensive, although fair price) home, and the meaning of hospitality in Vietnam, not to mention fidelity towards your parents.
- A realtor - lack of sublets for our asking price (although we hear from other expats that our price is very reasonable for the availability), lack of space, lack of information, and other total crap.
- A random woman. I was having a beer and playing pool in some random pub when a lady and her brother comes up to me. Sure, let's play – no worries, since she was Vietnamese and I don't mind practicing Vietnamese. Somehow, I stayed at the pub longer than I intended because she preached that: I should pray more, God is love, faith succeeds, Psalms 91 ought to be read (that's her favorite passage), her own life is an example of godly love, and all the other parroted messages that I've heard since I was two, toddling along to my parent's church. She then proceeded to pray for my soul and my attempts in Hanoi – but not before she listed to me all the difficulties that lay ahead – all the snares and traps that I have to worm through in order to succeed at something that she doesn't quite understand.
It does sound like I'm a bitter ungrateful SOB, doesn't it? All these people, giving advice, and I'm casting away their goodness with such spite!
And yet, the advice is one long list of 'what the hell are you doing, it's impossible, why are you doing the things you're doing --- stay on the path!'.
For Jesus Mary Jane Moses I'm so sick of the path.
But hell, this beats working in some ventilated office any day – three mosquito bites, a good cup of espresso and a heated conversation with an American tourist schmuck and I'm good for another long day tomorrow.