Grocery store trauma

I'm suffering from reverse culture shock.  Not from returning to the US from a month away in Asia, but from returning back to my hometown in Alabama.  I'm spending about half my time down here these days, and after spending the past 9 years in Virginia and DC, I find that I have some re-adjusting to do.  First, there's the fact that I'm not terribly southern to begin with.  I refuse to own a vehicle large enough to hit a cow and win, I don't have big southern hair, I don't own anything made by Carhartt, I could care less about Nascar or wrestling, I can't stand country music, I'm a beer snob, I don't go to church, and I don't even have a southern accent.  But I do love SEC football, collards, and fried chicken.  So there's hope for me, right?

Being back down here makes me see the south in a new way, albeit in a way that makes me feel like an outsider in my own hometown.  But since I live to travel, I suppose I should be somewhat used to being the outsider.  I recognize that this "outsider" status gives me the ability to appreciate the nuances of southern culture.  It also give me the ability to get ridiculously frustrated and/or laugh at it, as well.

This is a situation that I encounter on a near-weekly basis:

Random Person, after engaging very brief small talk:  "So where are you from?"
Me:  "Here."
Random Person:  "...huh...?"

I find this situation just plain fun, because I know exactly how it will go, and I love watching people grapple with the fact that someone can actually be born and bred in the south yet not sound like it.  It's quite the internal struggle for them.  It's free entertainment for me.

One particular challenge that I have encountered has been my local grocery store.  Living in DC, I have gotten quite used to having pretty much any kind of food, spice, or spirit at my disposal.  Ethiopian spices?  Aisle 2.  Obscure Asian vegetable?  Got it right here.  My favorite champagne from South Africa?  Well, there's the brut, the brut rose, and the reserve brut - take your pick.  I'm not so out of touch that I expect all these things to be available at the Winn Dixie up the road, but I must admit, I did set a certain level of expectation that was apparently rather off-base.

My neighbor across the street lent me one of her gorgeous, thriving basil plants to feast on.  I don't know what she does to make the plants so freakin' large, but all I can figure is that steroids have to be involved.  Basil that beautiful just cries out to be made into caprese salad.  So off I went to the WD for some buffalo mozzarella, among other basic things.  I searched the dairy case.  No buffalo.  I found the "specialty" cheese case.  No buffalo.  The organic section?  No buffalo.  I found a store employee.

Me:  "Excuse me, do you have any buffalo mozzarella?"
Employee:  "Um... we have Kraft mozzarella."
What I thought: "WTF is wrong with this store?"
What I said:  "Thank you."

So I settled for an abomination of cheese, dried up and vacuum-sealed in plastic with KRAFT plastered on it.  I think the basil and I both shed a tear.  Unfortunately, the WD was not finished with me just yet.  As I lay my poser cheese, some bananas, tomatoes, and hummus on the belt for the cashier to ring up, she suddenly stopped the belt.  She picked up the container of hummus and began to inspect it like one might do to an unidentifiable dead bug.

Cashier: "What is this...  hummus stuff?  Is it a dip?"
Me:  "Um... yes...  usually for vegetables or pita chips."
Cashier, still warily inspecting the container:  "... what's in it?"
Me:  "The main ingredients are chick peas, oil, and tahini."
Cashier:  "Um, ok..."

She gingerly put the hummus in a bag, looking afraid that she might catch something from it.  I took my goods and swore to find a grocery store that has buffalo mozzarella and cashiers that know what hummus is. 

Tuk-tuks, physics, and Batman

If Issac Newton was alive today, he would declare this his fourth Law of Motion:  If you are non-Asian and walking down the street in either Phnom Penh or Siem Reap in Cambodia, you will, per the laws of physics, be offered a tuk-tuk ride every 120 seconds. Unless the monsoon rains are raging.  Dan and I proved this to be true through numerous non-scientific and uncontrolled experiments in both cities including multiple walking trips to the American Embassy (because one of us had to bribe our way into the country... oops), searching for eating establishments that apparently no longer exist, and generally getting lost.

With this epic new law firmly established, I would like to present an additional theory on Cambodian tuk-tuks:  A tuk-tuk will attract more business if it is painted with an utterly oxymoronic theme.  I present my evidence below:

It's the Batmobi...! er, Bat-tuk-tuk.

And another Bat-tuk-tuk.

Oh my Buddha, it's a THIRD Bat-tuk-tuk.  It's a little hard to see, but believe me, it's there. WTF.

There is way too much Batman up in this town.  So it's Spider Man tuk-tuk to the rescue! Way to buck the trend, MR-nan.  I didn't take the opportunity to ride in Spider Man, but if there had been a Spider Pig tuk-tuk, I would have hired it for the day just to ride around town singing the Spider Pig song. 

A fourth Bat-tuk-tuk?  Seriously?  I want someone to dress up as the Joker and walk around town just to see if they get tackled by a bunch of tuk-tuk drivers (hey, Dan...?)

Apparently not everyone needs to claim superpowers around here to be awesome.  Let's take a closer look at this one...

I can't decide which takes the cake - the bunny that looks scared out of its gourd, or the absolutely random "FREEDOM" sign underneath the armrest.  Or the fact that it's simply the wrong bunny.

 

And finally... a Ferrari tuk-tuk!  I want to see this guy go from 0 to 60 mph in 4.2 seconds.  

 

Unfortunately, I was not in Cambodia long enough to conduct a sufficient number of observations on ride frequencies in themed tuk-tuks versus non-themed tuk-tuks to either confirm or deny my theory.  However, if you know of a scientific organization or company that is in need of such data, my data-collection services are available for hire.

Temples of Cambodia

The area around Siem Reap in Cambodia is chock full of temples from the Khmer civilization, with Angkor Wat winning the popularity contest.  There are plenty of other temples in the area, though, including Angkor Thom and Ta Prohm, both of which were used in the filming of the movie Tomb Raider.    I could easily spout off some historical and/or interesting facts, but quite frankly, you've got Wikipedia if you truly care about the details.  I'll just present a few of my favorite photos so you can (hopefully) go, "Oooh, pretty..." and then read up on them should you feel so inclined.

Angkor Wat

Angkor Thom

Ta Prohm

I know.  I'm no Laura Croft.  I forgot my skintight black leather outfit.  I hate it when I forget to pack that.

Ninja skills: I haz 'em

I had an almost-unfortunate incident occur while I was in India.  I wanted to post about it at the time, but I thought it might be prudent to return safely to the US and freak my family out in person.  So now that I have successfully done both, I'll tell you what happened:  my wallet was stolen.  But don't worry, everything is ok because I stole it back.  I am so ninja. 

The scene of the crime was Agra Fort in the city of Agra.  The fort is the second most popular attraction in the area, falling under the great big popular shadow of the Taj Mahal just down the river.  Agra Fort is a supremely massive structure made of red sandstone and white marble.  This sucker demands attention, and you have no choice but to give it because the place is so freakin' big that you simply can't miss it.  It's history is also intertwined with the Taj - the builder of the Taj, Shah Jahan, was imprisoned in Agra Fort by his own son for his utterly lavish spending on things like, well, the Taj.

Sarah and I found ourselves among throngs of other tourists running around Agra Fort.  It's a dadgum impressive place.  As we walked up a narrow staircase, I noticed that a woman with a baby was climbing up very close to me - too close.  She was almost aggressive about it.  And then I felt it - movement around my purse.  I knew exactly what was happening.  $#8&.  I checked my purse when we came out onto the courtyard at the top of the stairs.  Sure enough, my wallet was gone.  I asked Sarah if she could see the woman, and she spied her on the other side of the courtyard.  I went sprinting after her with Sarah at my heels.  I tapped her on the shoulder.

"You took my wallet.  Give it back.  I'm going to get the police.  I'm a diplomat."  I am so not a diplomat. 

She turned and gave me a quizzical look, then started speaking Hindi and shaking her head.  She looked very odd, like something out of Alice in Wonderland.  She started to walk off in a slow, gliding, almost practiced way.  I stopped her and repeated what I'd already said.

"Give me my wallet back.  I know you have it.  You are going to be in serious trouble for stealing from a diplomat."  I am still not a diplomat.

She said something more in Hindi, shook her head again, and patted her purse.  Ah ha!  She knew exactly what I was saying.  I started to wonder if she was drugged up.  Her speech and her movements were just downright strange.  She seemed to be floating in some other world.  So did the baby, for that matter.

Apparently, I was causing a scene, as Sarah informed me later.  I wasn't screaming at the woman, but I was sure as hell demanding my wallet back.  And I wasn't about to take my eyes off of her. 

The woman floated down a staircase back to a lower courtyard.  I followed, still claiming to be a diplomat, Obama's third cousin twice removed, a flying monkey, and whatever else I could think of to try to get her pony up the wallet.  At the bottom of the staircase was a single step up into the courtyard itself.  The woman stepped onto it, and as she did, she turned around to mumble Hindi at me again.  As she did, I leaned down and saw... my wallet!  She was holding it between the baby's legs.  I swiped it out of her hand.  Shoot, she hadn't even had a chance to open it.  I looked back at her, and she gave me a look that said, "Well, that's a bummer," and she floated off.  Of course, there were no police to be found.  But hey, I had my wallet back - my rupees, my US dollars, my credit card, my drivers license, my ATM card, and the wallet itself (don't judge - I really like my wallet).  How's that for some ninja skills?

I am so ninja with my pink shirt on

Ok, ok, fine, I admit it.  I'm about as ninja as Justin Bieber.  I just got really, really lucky.  Kids, watch those purses and pockets!

Engrish 101

I'm sure most of you are aware of the website engrish.com.  If you aren't, by all means, crawl out from under your rock and open your eyes to the grammatical light of day (or lack thereof)!  It's full of fantastic, hysterical, and downright scary abominations of English translations, most of them from Asia.  Being the offspring of English teachers, it is my duty to love this site.  And I do.  So during my sweaty sojourn across Asia, I was constantly on the lookout for my own Engrish finds.  The continent did not disappoint.

Thailand

I was in ignorant, heavenly bliss enjoying this wonderful mango smoothie on the streets of Chiang Mai when I happened to take a close look at the cup.  Despite the cartoonish appearance and the flowery scene, I don't think this smoothie is appropriate for children.  And I have to wonder... is big head both savory and sweet?  Wait - please don't answer that.

This one is my personal favorite, because this sign was posted in front of a Buddhist temple.  I guess you never know when Hugh Hefner or Kid Rock will come for a visit.


Vietnam

This is a restaurant menu in Hanoi.  Part of me wanted to order "nut + cigarette" just to see what came out.  Yes, I just said that.

Well.  Thanks for clarifying that.

This is the washing machine in Courtney's apartment in Saigon.  I'm not sure if this is the brand name or if the machine simply consumed too many beers.

Everything printed on this bag is all kinds of wrong, yet all kinds of hilarious.  This is what Courtney feeds her dog. I just... geez, I can't even comment on this one.  These grammatical crimes against both humanity and canine-kind will have to speak for themselves. 

Cambodia

What's the secret ingredient in this restaurant's bloody mary?  Ingredients.  Again, thanks for clarifying that.

The North Face or The North Fake?

I didn't know that The North Face brand was manufactured in Vietnam until I began this month-long Asian adventure.  I also didn't know until I met up with friends in Bangkok that had just been in Vietnam that North Face gear can be purchased very cheaply in Vietnam.  So while in Sapa, I bought both a backpack and a Gore-Tex rain coat complete with a zip-in fleece for next to nothing.  However, I heard conflicting reports on the gear from various sources throughout the trip.  These are the three things that I was told:

1.  North Face gear sold in Vietnam is the real deal - it's just cheap because it's manufactured in-country.
2.  North Face gear sold in Vietnam is the real deal - but what you can find is only sold in Vietnam because it has a defect or few.
3.  It's all counterfeit crap from China.

Hmmm.   Did I buy something real (albeit possibly imperfect) or did I just pad some Chinese pockets and end up with something that will fall apart and/or leave me soaking wet in my moment of need?  I gave the once-over to the backpack first.  All the zippers worked, the straps worked, and the stitching, fabric, and straps seemed sturdy enough.  The only flaw I found was with the rain cover, which didn't seem to fit over the backpack very well.  Well, shoot, if that's the only defect I can find, then I can live with that.  I paid $9 for that pack.

I picked over the jacket next.  Zippers work ok?  Yep.  Snaps actually close?  Sure do.  Seams strong enough?  They survived a frantic flailing-fest around the room, which seemed like a legitimate test to me.   But was it waterproof?  I didn't have it with me during any of the monsoon rains we got caught in throughout the trip, and there is no such thing as monsoon season in the US (I'm not going to wait for a chance hurricane to come through for me to not only test the jacket, but test my ability to not get blown down the street).  So I came up with an alternative - the shower.

Yes, I donned the jacket and jumped in the shower.  What, do you have a better idea?

Well, throw me down and call me Sally.  It's waterproof!  Maybe it really is made of Gore-Tex, after all. So after my Super Much Thorough and Scientifically Proven test, I have concluded that the truth is....  #2.  Real but defective.  I can easily live with that.  Now - who wants to go camping?

Update:  check out what happened to my North Face backpack here.

Made in Vietnam: the good stuff

One of the many fantastic things about Vietnam is that you can have just about anything you want, whenever you decide you want it, and without breaking the bank.  You want to be on that flight to Saigon that leaves in 2 hours?  No problem!  That will be less than $100, please.  You want to book a weekend-long trek in the mountains starting with that overnight train that leaves this evening?  Done!  You want fries with that?  Already on the table.  You want 5 high-quality custom-tailored pieces of clothing made in 3 days for much less than you would pay off-the-rack?  You got it!  This is Vietnam, where all your last-minute dreams can come true!

The lovely colonial town of Hoi An (which was lucky enough not to be utterly destroyed in the Vietnam War) boasts an enormous number of tailors, something for which the town has become rather well known. In general, the tailors are supposed to be very skilled, and they can pump out suits and other custom-made pieces in two or three days.  That being said, any customer at a tailor shop here has to be knowledgable about good tailoring and needs to chose a tailor carefully and then watch the workers like a hawk.  Some tailors are definitely better than others, and most have a reputation for cutting corners if not closely monitored.  They will single-stitch hems, leave out linings and pipings, use crappy zippers, or maybe they'll just forget to sew in pockets altogether...  Hey, it's not their fault if you don't catch all this stuff.  You don't sign a contract with the tailor agreeing to such terms!

Getting suits custom-made was very high on Dan's list of things to do in Vietnam.  I admit, sometimes the guy puts his Good Idea Jeans on.  I was more than happy to go along with this and, you know, maybe get a thing (or five) made for myself.

Going into this process, we were both very aware of the tendency of the tailors to cut corners.  We sought out recommendations from friends, guidebooks, even our hotel in Hoi An, and one name stood out far above the rest - Yaly.  They have the reputation for being the best tailor in Vietnam, albeit also the most expensive.  But you get what you pay for, right?  Right.  So off to Yaly we went.

Dadgum.  This place has fast, quality custom-tailoring down to a serious art form.  Yaly has 4 locations in Hoi An.  They employ 50 tailors, along with slews of seamstresses, salespeople, and managers.  They carry loads of Italian fabrics - wool, silk, cashmere, chiffon, you name it.  Here is how our 3 days panned out with Yaly:

Day 1
1.  Choose clothing to be made (Dan:  2 suits.  Me:  1 pantsuit, 2 dresses, 1 shirt, 1 winter coat.  Yes, I know that's a lot.  I'm a girl.  I like clothes.)
2.  Sweat profusely, use multiple refreshing towels provided by the staff
3.  Get measured.  And by get measured, I mean let some Vietnamese chick record every single conceivable length, width, and/or circumference on your body.

4.  Sweat more, use more refreshing towels and chug a bottle of water.
5.  Pick out fabric for each piece.  Try not to freak out over the task after realizing the sheer amount of fabrics they have to choose from.
6.  Pay 50% deposit on your order.
7.  Leave puddle of sweat on the floor by the cashier.

Day 2
1.  Return for the first fitting.
2.  Try not to sweat profusely as you try on your gorgeous clothing.
3.  Fail at #2.
4.  Let salesperson go over each piece with a fine-toothed comb, marking up each one with a piece of chalk for taking in, letting out, straightening, etc.
5.  Notice the lack of cutting corners (good zippers, double-stitching, etc.) as you peel clothing off your sweat-soaked self.
6.  Leave happy and go have a beer.

Day 3
1.  Return for second fitting.
2.  Try not to sweat profusely as you try on your improved gorgeous clothing.
3.  Fail at #2.  Again.
4.  Let salesperson mark up clothing with chalk again.

5.  Wait for your personal tailor to come over and check clothing for any more markups
6.  Sweat like you've never sweated in your life and use more refreshing towels.
7.  Repeat #5 for each piece of clothing, because there is a separate tailor for each piece.  Seriously.
8.  Go have lunch, have a beer to celebrate impending epic wardrobe success
9.  Return for 3rd fitting
10.  Try not to sweat profusely as you try on your 99% finished clothing.
11.  Fail more miserably than ever at #10 and pray that the salespeople and seamstresses aren't completely grossed out.
12.  Give final approval to pieces that are done (yay!), get last-minute frantic tweaks done right in front of your face to those that aren't quite done.

I approve!

13.  Watch pantsuit seamstress get really frustrated because the right pant pocket refuses to lie flat.
14.  Thank pantsuit seamstress profusely when she finally does get said pocket to lie flat.
15.  Continue sweating.
16.  Pay remainder of bill as salespeople pack up your goods.
17.  Profess huge thanks to salespeople!
18.  Rush to hotel, pack newly made clothing in backpacks in record time because a taxi is coming in 10 minutes to take you to the airport to fly to Saigon.

So there you have it.  Vietnam:  THE place to get fabulous custom-made clothing in less than 72 hours!

Things transported by motorbike in Asia

Oh, hello there, Jet Lag, how are y... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

I finally returned stateside yesterday, and I woke up in the middle of the night with no earthly idea where I was or what country I was in.  I've been marginally more conscious today, but not by much.  And while I sure was happy to sleep on a western mattress, I'm rather sad that this latest misadventure is over.  So in order to spread a few giggles and not tax my groggy brain too much, I've compiled a list of things I saw transported by motorbike during the trip.  I'll post something more thought-provoking when my body and the Eastern time zone start getting along and playing nice with each other!

Things transported by scooter in Asia
1.  Caged chickens
2.  7-foot long sections of metal pipe
3.  7-foot long panes of glass
4.  7 cases of water
5.  3 bushels of pomelos
6.  Approximately 40 laundry bin-sized woven baskets
7.  Family of 5

Seriously.

8.  12 plastic chairs
9.  One ripped-out bus seat
10.  Buddhist monks
11.  One medium-sized refrigerator
12.  22 live geese

A man on a scooter was on a ferry with us in the Mekong Delta.  When we reached our destination, he hooked one basket to each side of his bike and drove off.

Important elements of Cambodian culture

If I were a writer for Conde Nast, Nat Geo Travel, Budget Travel, etc., I would probably go into detail about all of the charming aspects of Cambodian culture and psyche such as the big smiles and charming, friendly nature that just about everyone here seems to have, getting asked every 10 seconds "Hello sir/lady, you like tuk tuk ride?  Where you go?", the market vendors that all say the same utterly polite phrases ("Hello sir/lady, you buy someting? Tshirt?  I ha' your size.  You like scarf, bracelet...?"), the careful presentation of food and condiments at restaurants, the children screaming "Hello!!"with huge grins on their faces as they ride by 3 to a bicycle.  I would probably also talk about the beauty, awe, and majesty of Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, and Ta Prohm and include some pictures as proof.  I will do all that, but not today (even though Dan and I did indeed visit all these temples today).  No, today I want to write about a totally different aspect of Cambodian culture:  Cambodian television.

To sum it up in one phrase, TV here is train wreck-tastic.  Dan and I have taken great pleasure in popping open a beer and finding a random tv show or movie to laugh at before calling it a night.  We were also subjected to Cambodian music videos on our 6 hour bus ride from Phnom Penh to Siam Reap. Here is what we have discovered about Cambodian TV:

1.  All Cambodian music videos follow the same plot.  Goofy-looking metrosexual male singer with blown-out hair and too much hair gel chases pretty girl.  Girl seems to dig singer.  Singer buys girl jewelry.  Girl goes "WTF, I want Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right bearing silver jewelry and hopes of commitment.  Sorry, dude." Girl wanders off to find another, equally goofy-looking Mr. Right Now.  Goofy singer gets all melodramatic.  End of video.

2.  All the music videos have the lyrics written out on the bottom of the screen, and they light up when sung.  Just like karaoke.  For the first 5 minutes of our bus ride, I was truly afraid that we were going to be subjected to not just 6 hours of videos, but 6 hours of videos PLUS actual karaoke.

3.  There is a series of music videos that all follow the plot in #1 that someone strung together haphazardly and gave it the random title "Facebook Lovestory".  This was deemed as appropriate viewing material for the 6 hour bus ride.

4.  Kung fu can ALWAYS be found on tv.  And on a 6 hour bus ride.  I think they ran out of music videos...

5.  The kung fu may be rather random and the music videos may be actual crimes against humanity, but the commercials are awesome.  This is a sample of what we witnessed on the boob tube:

     5a.  A public message about the prevention of dengue fever called "The National Dengue Song", which involved a group of children singing and performing strange dance moves with some kind of Asian do-rags tied to their heads.  They sang "Destroy mosquitoes may they be killed forever" as they tossed various items, including sliced avocados, into a hole in the ground and buried it all in dirt.

     5b.  Advertisements for Super Whiskey.  Yes, that's the brand name. 

     5c.  Advertisements for Spy wine coolers.  I have yet to see anyone in this country drink a wine cooler.

     5d.  A grand total of 4 different publc messages stressing the importance of hand-washing.

     5e.  And finally, a public message about the importance of boiling water before consuming it.  It looked just like a Saturday Night Live skit.  As 4 women in some kind of traditional dress gathered water from a lake, bacteria that was illustrated in the form of men dressed as aboriginal characters were superimposed into the collected water.  The men/bacteria proceeded to have one hell of a party in the pot of water, only to be busted up (complete with screaming and the superimposed men spiraling away into nothing) as the women boil said water over a fire and proceed to enjoy a lovely cup of water that is aborigine-free.  I mean, bacteria free.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some more television to watch.

These are a few of my favorite (Vietnamese) things

Dan and I made it to Cambodia today.  We celebrated not killing each other or ourselves by enjoying a lovely, ice cold Angkor beer at lunch!  There are a lot of fantastic things from Vietnam that warrant their own write-ups, but they will have to wait a bit.  Frankly, it'll be easier to do so when I have access to a computer that doesn't try to auto-correct my typing to, say, Vietnamese or Cambodian.  So when I return to the states next week (BOO), I will go back and fill in the blanks.  But until then, here are a few of my favorite things from Vietnam:

1.  Watching our homestay host in Sapa go to town on a bong while his 2-yr old son sat in his lap.

2.  Eating pho on the street on a plastic stool that was clearly meant for the 2-year old in #1 above.

3.  Realizing that Dan and I were the only people in the country not wearing face masks. 

4.  Buying a conical hat, then 48 hrs later actually putting it to use in the rain.

5.  Dan wearing a conical hat with a big yellow ribbon.

6.  Finding beer for 20 cents a glass in Hoi An.

7.  Having said beer in Hoi An served to us by a 3-year old.

8.  The one phrase that everyone in Vietnam knows:  "Hello, you buy!"

9.  Laughing at sunglasses vendors trying to sell me sunglasses despite the fact that I was wearing... sunglasses.

10.  Attending Champocalypse:  the all-you-can-eat and all-you-can-drink-Veuve-Clicquot brunch at the Intercontinental Saigon (my stomach is still in recovery from that).

11.  Dan getting attacked by a chicken.

12.  SUPER MUCH FUN!! 

Halong Bay does not suck

Dan and I spent a day and night relaxing (and recovering from from the happy water, hiking, and chickens of Sapa) on a junk boat in the middle of Halong Bay, which is famous for its hundreds of karsts sticking up out of the water.  We had the opportunity to kayak through small caves and swim in the water, which coated us all with some kind of brown crap.  But hey, that's what showers are for, and neither of us seems to have caught anything funky from it.  This a gorgeous place that demands you sit down and enjoy its beauty, and may or may not demand the enjoyment of a good Cuban cigar with it. 

 

Sapa Part 2: When chickens and happy water attack

Dan and I felt incredibly lucky to have the chance to check out the mountains around Sapa on foot.  Pictures simply can't convey how vast and brilliant this area of the world is.  But more than once, we were reminded that Mother Nature rules here.  First, the trail itself nearly whipped us in a few spots.  This is not your mama's walk in the park - we slipped and tripped all over the place.  Were it not for the Black H'mong women (in their dadgum flip flops, no less) to give us a helping hand - literally - in a number of spots, we would have fallen on our faces multiple times.  If that wasn't enough to make us realize our place in The Great Order of Things, the powers that be decided to send a chicken.  That's right, a chicken.  As Dan was walking across a small log placed over a very muddy and mucky part of the trail, a chicken came blasting out of the brush and with a single "SQUAWK!", body-slammed himself into Dan, knocked him square into the ankle-deep mud, and fled into the neighboring field.  "%&^#ing chicken!!"  The Black H'mong women nearly fell over with laughter.  Hell, Kong and I were right there with them.  Dan wasn't exactly laughing, but he swore revenge and has been eating chicken dishes ever since that day.



Dan and me with the Black H'Mong women that saved our butts



We arrived at our homestay mid-afternoon.  The hill tribe family that we were staying with had a house right on a beautiful rushing river with a large waterfall just steps away.  It was a gorgeous setting!  Dan and I sat by the river to wash the mud off our lower extremities and had to fend off a Black H'Mong and a Red Dzao woman who were ridiculously aggressive (but in a very meek and polite way, ironically) in trying to sell us things.  "You buy from me, cheap cheap!"  "You no buy from me today, maybe you buy from me tomorrow?"

After Dan and I managed to remove a little mud from ourselves, Kong proceeded to introduce us to our host, Mr. Long and his wife, and then took us outside to enjoy some Tiger beer and teach us a card game called Guatemalan &*^$%screw (or something like that).  Mr. Long's brother-in-law joined us for the game, and we played until dinner was ready.  By this time, a couple from Spain and their Black H'Mong guide had joined us as well.  They were also spending the night in the home.

Dan and I were amazed to see the spread of food that Mr. and Mrs. Long put out!  Two tables were covered with food - rice, spring rolls, pork and chilies, buffallo and peppers, choko, a chicken dish (go Dan, go!), and more. 

And then water bottles and shot glasses came out.  Um... what?  "Happy water!!" yelled the Spanish couple's guide.  "You no drink, you no go inside!!" And she proceeded to pour the clear "happy water" from an Aquafina water bottle into everyone's glass.  Uh oh... Kong said "Now we sing Vietnamese national anthem," and turning to me he said, "and then you sing American national anthem."  Me?  Wait a minute...  Dan!  Dan had a sheepish smile on his face.  "You told them I sing, didn't you?"  His smile just got bigger.  "I hate you." 

Kong, the Black H'Mong woman, Mr. and Mrs. Long, and the brother-in-law all broke out into the Vietnamese national anthem.  Wow.  Here we were in the middle of nowhere in Vietnam sitting with a hill tribe family in their house eating their homecooked food and listening to them sing their national anthem.  This was fantastic.  "Ok, your turn!" Kong said.  Crap.  I stood up and sang The Star Spangled Banner.  Next thing I knew, the Black H'Mong woman was walking over to me with a crown and a heart on a stick made of some plant as a "thank you" for singing.  Well, how sweet!  So of course, I put them both on my head.

My reward:  a halo and happy water

Kong and company taught us a toast in Vietnamese that involved a lot of yelling.  So throughout the meal, happy water was poured, the toast was shouted, and down went the happy water (which was actually rice wine).   There was entirely too much happy water.  Thankfully, the bottle was almost empty.  Or so we thought - Dan suddenly leaned over to me and said, "Oh no... Mr. Long has a 1.5 liter bottle of happy water under the table that he's pouring from."  Oh my Buddha.

And that's when I realized what we were doing - we were sitting around with a bunch of Vietnamese hillbillies drinking Vietnamese moonshine.  We continued to eat, yell, and shoot happy water into the night.  The next day I decided that the happy water was actually evil water, but not too evil.  So what if Dan and I got shown up by a chicken and some hillbillies?  This place was great!