What's your name again?

Meeting people in Hanoi is a lot like meeting people in New York, especially among the bar hoppers.

Friday night at  Linkin Pub, a typical expat hangout. Black Eye Peas blaring, heavy bass. j.fisher and yuppienomad enters, say hi to a couple of people and sit on a sofa. Two Heneikens bottles sit on the low table, sweating.

yn: Can you smoke somewhere else, like over there?
jf:  Sure thing.

Yuppienomad talks to a girl fiddling with her cell phone and a guy looking at the screen flashing old music videos. The music gets louder – old-school Ludacris rumbles from the speakers directly above. j.fisher moves across to the other side of the room, nursing a beer.

girl: Hey, empty seat over here!
jf: Thanks. Hard to find one around here.
girl: What? Oh! No – place – a lot – mentioned – odors.

j.fisher bends closer to listen.

jf:  Sorry what was that? Hard to hear around here.  It's kind of loud!
girl: Yes... Fodor's!
jf:  Oh, I see..
girl: What?
jf:  What? Never mind – Where are you from?
girl: What? — 40 km from Berlin!

The conversation proceeds, dipping under and above the thumping music.

jf: Do you live here?
girl:   – internship – sociological – looking at – cats and people – rapid economic.
jf:     Mind if I smoke? [He points to the cigarette pack on the table, while nodding at the appropriate pauses.]
girl:   Oh, no worries! I'll have one too! [She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette.] Are you here with anyone? [She shouts the question.]
jf:     Yeah! She's around somewhere! We're here for a birthday party. Do you know Natalie?  I'm not quite sure what she looks like!
girl:   No – don't know –

They are in each other's laps and ears, trying to communicate about sustainable development and Hanoi, finally giving up and shifting to a lower gear – small talk. It is difficult.  The music swells lounder.  Dancers bump against the table and chairs, girls with blond streaks in their hair and knee high socks. Minutes tick, scarmbling over one another.

girl:  It's so loud – G&C and Grasshopper better!
jf:     Later? You're going there? Or some other time?
girl:  – Friends there! Catch you – ?
jf:     Sure – See you around – tonight?

The scene repeats for another three or four rounds, a buffet of half dialogues and affirmative answers to questions and statements that can't be heard.  Yuppienomad sidles over to j.fisher and joins in one of the conversations about ecological conservation in the monsoon ravaged lowlands. A Fullbright Scholar droned on, a little bit tipsy.

yn:    Wanna go?
jf:      Yeah, lemme f'nish my smokes. Thanks for saving me.
yn:     Had fun?
jf:       Thinkso. Kindish loud, but I'm a littler tipper  Ha.ha.
yn:    Good for you --
jf:      All righty. Lesh go. But wait! Hafta find Natalie and say happy birthday!
yn:     But you don't even know what she looks like!
jf:       Ishok. I rememer a lot of faces tonight - But I don't know their names - so go figure. And I know her name, but don't know the face. Ish all ok!

The pair exits the bar after another 30 minutes. j.fisher did find Natalie to say 'happy birthday'. They cross the street to have fried rice and eggrolls - loading up on carbs to soak up the alcohol.  The quiet and emptied streets seem like a blessing compared to the bar.