Happy Itinerant

[SPOILER ALERT: Its a long story, so I give away the ending in the third sentence. No hard feelings if you don't finish.]
With resolute determination and a non refundable ticket, I began my two day trip to Vietnam. I was prepared for a long haul; I wasn't prepared for a four day practice of living in the moment, mindfulness and repeating a happiness mantra: "may I be happy, may you be happy." The result was that when I finally arrived in Saigon/ Ho Chi Minh City two days late and without my luggage, I was unfazed and smiling.

     The trip began on a gray, wet Wednesday morning in Kansas City, part of a storm stretching from Dallas to Chicago.  Ever the mother, my mom predicted the foreshadowing trouble and I laughed her off. Little did I know how right she was and how much ironic laughing that would cause. I arrived to the airport early enough that the woman who checked me in decided to bump me onto a flight that was already delayed and could board at any minute. With a sigh of relief and excitement I thought the trip was starting off well: I got to leave even earlier than planned thereby avoiding that inevitable waterfall from my mother's face. I kissed my mom, hugged her tight and then separated quick like a bandaid, departing for security and my awaiting plane.

     I was told the plane could begin boarding at any minute so I didn't bother finding a comfortable spot, I just sat down facing the gate. Suddenly I felt a bit out of place amongst traveling business men with my dressed down, long haul comfort clothes and one shoe sticking half way out of each of my carry on bags. An hour later it became clear that there was no need to rush through security.
About the time my original flight to Chicago was supposed to take off, my new "earlier" flight started boarding. I found my seat, got all situated and had already met my neighbor who was on his was to Cambodia when I got my first piece of bad news: Chicago was shut down due to weather.

On the second boarding I fell asleep as soon as we reached the tarmac. Take off and touch down are my favorite parts of a flight but I was tired. I have slept soundly from one to the other on many flights before so I was not surprised to find the plane being taxied to a gate when I reawoke. I smiled sleepily and asked my neighbor if we had arrived. His eruption of laughter and a quick glance outside told me we were still in Kansas City. The plane had merely done a tour of the runway only to be turned around and sent back to the gate.

We deplaned and I watched the clock tick past my departure time for Korea. I am not a novice traveler so I know to expect delays and the unexpected, but I have never been stuck in my city of origin before. Like most passengers I considered going home and trying again tomorrow, but my bags were loaded and going to Vietnam with or with out me. Not willing to leave my bags to travel without me, I decided to wait it out... about this time I decided that I was not going to get to Vietnam as scheduled so I was just going to enjoy traveling. To kill time, I began imaging a rope of light connecting me to each person and through it pulsed pure happiness. I pumped out as much pure happiness to each distressed passenger I saw. It is impossible to focus on your own situation when you are busy wishing happiness on that many frustrated people. Eight hours later we departed for and finally landed in Chicago.

Unfortunately, I made my way all the way over to my next airline carrier in another terminal only to find out that they didn't  have another flight for two days and American Airlines had to re book my flight. So I trudged back to American Airlines and got in the back of the re booking line. and waited,                                                           and waited,                                                                                                and waited, wishing happiness upon each person I saw. I was actually smiling at this point which made me very different from my fellow passengers. When I arrived at the counter, other passengers seemed to get new itineraries and be on their way quickly. My situation seemed to need a lot more typing... I just smiled and tried to make small talk. When the guy behind the counter handed me my new itinerary: Chicago to San Francisco, to New York, to Hong Kong, to Saigon, I temporarily  forgot my mindfulness when I quipped in my own special way, that he could just throw my bags away now so that at least I know where they were lost. He smiled and I recovered my peace. After much more typing, I was booked for a flight to Hong Kong the following afternoon and a room at the Best Western that night.(no saving the hotel room I booked last minute in Saigon, but at least I wasn't sleeping on the floor or in an airport chair) One final snag as an airline manager had to approve my emailed Vietnamese visa approval letter (apparently the airlines haven't caught up to this... I was delayed every time because nobody believed it was the equivalent to a real visa)
The man behind the counter thanked me for my patience and I saw the true victims of travel delays: the airline employees. I smiled and wished everyone behind the counter pure happiness one more time.

In the hotel, I was finally able to finish Season 3 of "The Walking Dead" online and make plans to see an old school friend in Hong Kong during my overnight lay over there. I putzed around the Best Western until check out time and made my way back to the airport. Good thing I had two changes of clothes. The airport was full of stranded passengers happy to be getting on their way.
I got in line for my new airline: Cathay Pacific and was immediately told that I would have to check my biggest carry on bag. I was a bit frustrated at first because it fits into the overhead compartment just fine, but I realized that when I leave the airport in Hong Kong I will only have my back pack to carry around so this was even better! I repositioned a few things including those loose kitchen shoes so that I could check the bag.
     I asked if they could check to see if they have my checked bag from American Airlines. The girl behind the counter smiled indeterminately at me and I smiled back assuming that we were not going to understand each other in this conversation so I just wished her happiness and the baggage handlers happiness so that they would take care of my bag. I had to wait awhile for a manager to approve my visa approval letter again so I turned around and wished everyone waiting in line happiness.

The flight to Hong Kong was fast and uneventful. Normally I use these long overseas flights to catch up on all the movies I haven't seen but I could not seem to stay awake through an entire movie. The first half of Lincoln, Hitchcock, Argo, Zero Dark Thirty and something else were all really good. I should finish them sometime.

At Hong Kong I walked off the plane, changed money and got my passport stamped, no big deal, no questions asked. Welcome to Hong Kong here's a 30 day visa. I was a bit intimidated about finding the restaurant where my friend is the pastry chef but two train stops from the airport, a ten feet taxi ride where the driver angrily told me I was where I wanted to go and wandering up a few flights of stairs and Viola! I found it.
I had just enough time to have a coffee at the bar and check out the Menu and watch pizzas go out at the swanky Italian restaurant before my friend showed up and whisked me off to a Japanese restaurant for noodles and catching up.

After dinner, a stroll around the lively night streets of Hong Kong and the last ferry ride across the bay, I made my way back to the airport to kill a few hours before my early morning flight into Saigon. I killed those hours by wishing every person in the airport, at that point mostly cleaning crew, pure happiness. At that point it had become second nature. There wasn't any effort involved but the result was that I myself felt full of happiness because I was giving so much of it away. I was neither anxious, scared or excited, just happy.

The flight to Saigon was a breeze. As soon as I got off the plane there was a window for Visas. My paperwork was already filled out and organized so I handed it over with $95 cash and 30 minutes later they called my name to get my visa. I walked through immigration without issue and found the luggage corral that everyone was gathered around. Nobody looked familiar so I turned around and saw my small bag riding in a circle alone. I grabbed it and stood there for a minute naively thinking it was the first bag off the plane and everyone would rush around me soon...
After a few minutes I realized mine was last bag and the other bags had been cleared away. Sure that my big bag was in lost and found, I trudged over to a huge pile on the other side of the room. Turns out that was not lost and found... I found the window for lost and found and three very pretty smiling girls eagerly took all the paperwork I could pull out of my backpack. Amused by the catastrohy of it all, I just waited while the girls chatted and giggled and typed. One of them said my bag had arrived and pointed to the far side of the room where I had just come from. With a huge exhale and a smile bigger than my face I thanked each girl and tried not to run back to the far side of the room. Half way over however, it donned on me that she was referring to the bag that I was already carrying...

So in mid stride I turned about face and walked back. Again, amused the ridiculousness of it all I was almost laughing as I tried to explain that there should be a bigger bag waiting for me... There was no checking this time. We all knew my bag was not in Saigon. I did a quick inventory of everything I had: two changes of dirty clothes, a blanket and all my shoes, even the kitchen shoes that were sticking half way out of my carry on. I filled out the lost bag report and the girl told me that if they find the bag it should go back to my starting destination. "Perfect" was my only response.

Before I left, all the girls giggled one last time and one of them told me I was very handsome and very kind. I smiled knowingly, winked at her and wished them all happiness. Then I changed a little money and arranged a cab, also smiling stupidly. I didn't care. I had arrived in Vietnam!

Relax. You've Done This Before

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013 2:00 a.m.

Six hours to liftoff. My heart is racing the clock to see which can tick the fastest. I am almost frantically unpacking, refolding and repacking my one suitcase. The items for my carry on bag are strewn about in a circle around me. 18"x 18" boxes containing every possession worth keeping are taped closed, labeled and scattered around the main floor of my mother's house. They will be placed in the basement storage room until I don't know when. The rest of my things, mostly clothes piled around the couch, totally obscuring it, are waiting to be donated. A thousand odds and ends still nag at the back of my mind: chiefly  where I am I going to sleep when I arrive in Ho Chi Minh City/ Saigon, Vietnam at 11p.m. tomorrow night.

I drop everything. I need to book a room. The search for a reasonable room in a central location a few hours before take off is agonizing. How close is this place to where I want to stay the next night? Why is that room only $9? Will they still have my room at 11p.m.?
I settle on a safe room for $25. Shouldn't be any surprises.
Back to my suitcase. My heart only beats faster.

The suitcase is packed. It is two pounds overweight. Pull out a blanket. Why am I bringing a blanket to the tropics?! I've needed a blanket in the tropics before. Repack the blanket in the carry on. The suitcase is exactly the weight limit. Thank you luggage scale.
Carry on bag packed with blanket, changes of clothes and all my shoes. One pair doesn't fit. Why am I bringing kitchen shoes anyway?

All electronics and matching cords are accounted for. They are packed into backpack. All paperwork and passport organized in a folder. Folder packed.
Kitchen shoes stuffed in the backpack. Each sticking half way out a different pocket. Will they both make it?
Its 4:00 a.m. Finished Packing.

What was I going to do next? What do I NEED to do next?
This was a mistake. Why am I moving to Vietnam?! This doesn't even make sense!

RELAX. You've done this before:


Sunday, June 16th, 2006 4:30 a.m.

Two and a half hours to liftoff. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up watching Turner Classic Movies all night. I am walking across my mother's basement in the dark. I stop, take a deep breath, squeeze the pillow in my arms for dear life and reality hits me: I am walking to the car that will take me to the airport to fly to New York to start culinary school. Everything I have known in my life up to this point is staying here, what isn't staying here is packed in my suitcase by the door. I will be sharing a new room with a complete stranger in a strange place tonight. I have no idea what I'll be doing tomorrow or the next day: I'm scared. I breathe out, relax my death grip on the pillow and confidently walk to the car.

April 10th, 2013 4:30 a.m.

I was so much braver then. Or naive.
Time to cut my losses. Clear up odds and ends. Put them away. Whatever doesn't get done won't be remembered or matter by tomorrow. My bags are packed. My paperwork is in order. I have a place to sleep tomorrow night.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I am ready.

Shock, Disbelief and Name Calling

      As I announced my plans to move to Vietnam with an "I'll figure it out when I get there" philosophy, the responses were of shock, disbelief and name calling: "crazy," "wild" and "brave." I heard it all. I laughed everyone off and reassured them that I would be fine. The truth is that my own assurance, confidence and emotions cycled about every five to thirty minutes. Just when I had myself convinced that everything was under control, I would imagine some unfortunate event that could make my trip a catastrophe.

     To calm down, I reminded myself that this is not even the first time that I have showed up in a foreign country with no plans: last time I was toting my then 90 year old Oma around Europe. At least this time I only have myself to worry about: no hearing aids, no walking slow, nothing keeping me from socializing with locals my own age. I don't, however, have anyone to fall back on for answers or the security of a return ticket.

     This time, I am indeed traveling alone on a one way ticket with no idea of when I'll be coming back, where I'm going to stay, what I'm going to do or how I'm going to make anything happen. All that I am taking is a suitcase limited to 50 pounds of clothes, a new laptop, a new global smart phone and $1000 cash. The very thought makes my chest swell with excitement and contract with fear all at once. After five years of planning, day dreaming about and then never getting to do some variation of this plan, I feel like I am finally doing what I am meant to be doing.

     Once the initial shock of my little announcement wore off, the next response from friends was something along the lines of "I couldn't do that, I'd miss my friends and family too much." To which I respond that my family isn't going anywhere, I'll always know where to find them. My friends would take up too much space in my luggage so I'll have to leave them behind, pack another pair of underwear and make new friends when I get there.

     The result of my itinerant lifestyle is a lot of friends scattered all over the place. Luckily I can never have too many friends. I can't wait to see the shock and disbelief etched in their faces and hear the no doubt interesting names I will gain from my upcoming antics. Stay tuned folks, I have no idea what is going to happen.

Old Quarter and Turtle Lake

The oldest part of Hanoi, the aptly named "old quarter," grows out from the southern banks of turtle lake. Legend goes that, in the 15th century, the first Vietnamese emperor went to fight the Chinese occupiers and a turtle rose out of the lake bearing a sword which he then used to defeat the Chinese. Now, in the middle of the lake there is a temple dedicated to turtles and a tiny island only for turtles. It is supposed to be very good luck and quite a commotion if a turtle is ever sighted. The water is so murky and stagnant they should celebrate seeing any living creature in the water.

The pagoda island for the turtles on the left and  the temple island  is hidden by all the trees on the right.

The island solely for turtles.

The entrance to the temple for turtles on an island in the middle of the lake.

Depicting the turtle bearing a sword.

 The narrow streets of old quarter are lined with shops and congested with traffic. Shops of each street focus on a particular type of product to sell and those streets are creatively named after the things you buy there; i.e.: musical instrument street, lock street, metal street, luggage street, etc.
There are three ways to get around old quarter: walking, which I have already covered, on a scooter, and on a cyclo which is sort of like a backwards tricycle with a covered bench build into the front. The cyclo drivers target tourists offering a nice ride and promising to know the best and cheapest locations to buy anything. We employed three drivers for a day and it was a great experience, they take you anywhere and everywhere, pampering you as you go.

After a full day of driving us around the city, our driver, Ving, stopped abruptly and pulled me out and told me to drive my dad down the street. I got quite a few stares, cat calls and whistles from the people of Hanoi who are not used to seeing a round eye on the back end of the bike.

Our full delegation.

We stopped and had a beer with our drivers: Han 45, Ky 72, and Ving 34. All three of them  are from the same tiny village north of Hanoi and rent one room in the city together. They work for three or four months and then go home for a week to visit their wives and family who all work in rice fields.

(I shot video of riding through old quarter on the cyclo, but due to technical difficulties I will have to upload it some other time. Check back later, it's very exciting!)
Lastly, you can get around on a scooter, though I would only recommend riding with someone you know. There are scooter taxis, but I have been told that there is usually a pick pocket scam attached to that service. Being an intrepid traveler, I have a friend in Hanoi, Hang, who showed me her city by scooter. I have to admit that I was pretty scared walking up to her bike. I waited a few seconds for her to hand me a helmet, but one was never offered. My fear intensified, I climbed onto the back of her scooter, wrapped my arms tight around her stomach and held on for dear life. Suddenly aware of my own mortality, I asked Hang if she has ever been in any accidents. "Yes, a few," she replied. That made me feel safe....

Hang is a very good driver and didn't do anything crazy. Within a few minutes I had relaxed my vice grip on her stomach and eventually held her hips loosely. Eventually I felt comfortable enough to hold my camera up in the air to record a video as we drove and after a stop at a baking supply shop on metal street, I had to hold all my bags and nothing else.
(Again, check back later for the video of riding on a scooter.)

Evidence of War

Traveling through Vietnam with three Vietnam vets, I could not escape vestiges of the war if I wanted to. The whole purpose of our trip is to do some work in conjunction with Libraries of Vietnam Project, which is a group a friend of my father's started a decade ago. They build libraries in rural villages near the local school. My father says that he is still fighting the war, but with education instead of violence.
In Hanoi, the capital, which was heavily bombed and then reconstructed, is currently being taken over by modern progress. However, there are a few monuments to remind everyone of Vietnam's triumph over the "imperialist U.S," including a huge war museum which to our misfortune is not open on Mondays and that is when we had planned to visit. However, I think we managed to see the rest of them.
This is Ho Chi Minh's mosoleum. Like all other communist leaders, he is frozen and well preserved. I took these pictures on a sunset tour of Hanoi on the back of a scooter.

This is the monument dedicated to the crash landing of Senator John McCain in a lake in the middle of the city.

The central prison build by the French in the early 20th century to torture and kill Vietnamese and then used by the Vietnamese to do the same to Americans including John McCain.

A propaganda picture of US POWs having Christmas dinner.

This sheet of paper asks for help and safety in five languages.

This is a picture of John McCain being pulled out of the river .

John McCain returned to the prison where he was tortured in 2000.

And a tiny monument deep in side an urban neighborhood that you'd have to know about to find: wreckage of a B52 bomber

How to Cross the Street

Everytime I visit a country where traffic laws are sparse or loosely regulated, I say that it is the worst, most unorganized traffic I have ever seen. Hanoi is no different. Unlike Mexico where traffic just flows, or even in China where cars mostly go however they please, the traffic in Vietnam moves and scatters like ants whose anthill has just been destroyed (if they had horns). About 90% of the traffic are scooters, and they drive in which ever direction they want to: with traffic, against traffic, sideways through traffic, it really doesn't matter. However, this makes every street one big clusterf**k.


If driving through the streets seems like madness, then walking through and across them is pure lunacy; but it is nessicary. The sidewalks are cluttered with parked scooters and people sitting around drinking tea with friends. You must learn how to walk through all that madness. It requires a willful suspension of every safety lesson your mother ever taught you. If you wait for a clearing of traffic and then look both ways, your window will be closed.

Like plunging into a torrent river to get to the other side, you must boldly step out onto the street and without stopping, walk in a measured pace across the street. Scooters, cars and bikes will move around you. They slow down or speed up and weave through eachother to avoid hitting you. They have more to loose by hurting you, than you have to loose from being hit. If there is an accident where someone is hurt, their scooters are impounded for 3 months and if they kill someone, they have to pay the victim's income for the rest of thier lives. They won't hit you. To avoid this, they lay on thier horns to let everyone know where they are; the problem becomes that the whole city is a live symphony of honks, horns and beeps that meld together.

Your only job is to keep moving, do not stop unless there is a scooter directly in front of you. Also, do not run or rush, give the drivers enough time to figure out the best way to avoid you. The first time I stepped into traffic, it was surreal. It went against every instinct in my body and like a normal person I was watching oncoming traffic and half way through, froze like deer in headlights. We all know what happens to the deer... Fortunately, the drivers swerved around me, cutting off and almost running into everyone on either side of them and nearly caused a wreck. I found it nearly impossible to overcome the instinct to stop when I saw 10 scooters zooming right at me. My trick to avoid this, which adds a whole new level of excitement, danger and naughtiness, became to simply not look. I kept my eyes resolutely fixed on my destination across the street and ignored the horns I knew where directed at me. Sure, I squealed when a motor bike whizzed by so close it ruffled my shorts, but I lived to cross another street and the scooter driver got to their destination

If I Can't Travel Like A Muppet, I'll Travel Like A Korean

The day before I left, Thanksgiving, I was packed, anxious to leave and already dreading the long journey ahead. To distract me for a few hours, I went to see the new Muppet movie with my mom. The Muppets have always captured my imagination and there are many Muppet abilities that I wish I possesed, like: being able to crumple my face into those hilarious expressions and break into song.
One Muppet ability that is highlighted in the movie and I was particularly jealous of, is the ability to travel by map. You know, when in a movie, the character goes on a long trip and that trip is portrayed by a line moving rapidly across a map. It is much faster and cheaper than any conventional means of transportation.
At the end of the movie, I would have given anything to be able to travel by map! But I cannot and my plane tickets were already paid for.

My conventional, long, tiring journey began the next morning at 6:00am at the Kansas City International Airport and didn't end until 11:30pm on Saturday in Hanoi, Vietnam. First, My father, his BFF, Mike and I flew to Chicago to meet up with our final travel companion, Sam and catch our 13 hour flight to Soeul, South Korea. We had a few hours lay over in Soeul, then took a four hour flight south to Hanoi.

I thought I knew what to expect since I flew from Newark to Beijing on Delta Airlines just last year; however, Korean Air far and away surpassed my expectations about what a flight across the Pacific meant. The service from all of the Korean Air employees is nothing I have ever expirienced from any American Airline. Me and my needs as a passenger came first, anything I needed or wanted was available if I asked. At least I genuinley felt that way. The big, blushing smiles of the young and very attractive flight attendants also made me feel special. In short, I'd fly Korean Air over any American Airline anywhere in the world.

So, after taking two full days to travel alittle more than 20 hours and some drama at Vietnamese customs with my incorrectly stamped visa, we were picked up at the airport and taken to our wonderful hotel in the the heart of Hanoi. It is a brand new, small, boutique hotel with very comfortable amenitites and is surrounded by markets!
The next morning, we ate big bowls of Chicken Pho and set out to explore the captial city of Hanoi.