chuc mung nam moi
'happy new year, happy new year, may we all something something something something...' that was the first and last karaoke song i've ever sung, and the first time i'd ever heard the song. in the last few days i've heard it more times than i can count, and now whenever i see or hear the words 'happy new year,' the ABBA song pops into my head. there's even a ripoff vietnamese version; they have a penchant for longingly wistful, sad love songs so i'm sure the depressing meaning isn't lost on them. but, anyway: happy lunar new year!
yesterday was the third and last day of tet, and you could tell because the traffic and honking came back and people returned to their yelled-conversation volume. i spent the week in beautiful hoi an, where i picked the right tailor this time - the clothes i ordered fit me perfectly except for one sundress, which the seamstress fixed on the spot in five minutes. prices were double the usual, because of tet, but each piece turned out beautifully. now let's see if they survive the trip.
this morning i got on a bus to hue, another lovely historical city. hue has an old citadel, kind of in the same vein as beijing's forbidden city - there's even a 'forbidden purple city' within hue's decaying citadel borders.
about 45 minutes from hoi an, the bus stopped in danang to pick up some more people who refused to join our magical mystery tour because the seats they were offered were small plastic chairs wedged in the middle aisle. these were not uptight foreigners bellowing at the bus driver, but vietnamese people looking disbelievingly from him to the seats and then disdainfully stepping off the bus.
once we got back on the road, there were a few special moments when i thought puking would commence: issuing either from me, or the guy sitting next to me (who asked for a plastic bag from the woman sitting in front of us), or the woman in front of us (who had undone her hair and kept flopping her head from her husband's lap to the window and back, never finding a comfortable position). both of these people had little vials of fix-it potion, like all-healing tiger balm. when vietnamese people have a headache, or get nauseated, or their arm falls off, out comes the vial of green medicine that reeks strongly of menthol and eucalyptus and spices and is really the last thing i want to smell when i feel off-kilter from bus fumes and lurching turns. to make things worse, my brain evilly summoned up that monty python scene - i can't remember which movie it's from, but if i say 'mr creosote,' will you know what i'm talking about? it makes me start giggling just before it triggers my gag reflex. but there i go again, moaning about motion sickness and telling vomit stories. you'd rather be reading poetic odes to the mist over hai van pass, or the lush tropical forest of the twisty mountain road, bordered on both sides with curving coastline, wouldn't you?
well too bad. maybe i'll feel more poetic tomorrow. but tonight i'll be wishing you a happy lunar new year with a toast over a huda, the hue local brew.
yesterday was the third and last day of tet, and you could tell because the traffic and honking came back and people returned to their yelled-conversation volume. i spent the week in beautiful hoi an, where i picked the right tailor this time - the clothes i ordered fit me perfectly except for one sundress, which the seamstress fixed on the spot in five minutes. prices were double the usual, because of tet, but each piece turned out beautifully. now let's see if they survive the trip.
this morning i got on a bus to hue, another lovely historical city. hue has an old citadel, kind of in the same vein as beijing's forbidden city - there's even a 'forbidden purple city' within hue's decaying citadel borders.
about 45 minutes from hoi an, the bus stopped in danang to pick up some more people who refused to join our magical mystery tour because the seats they were offered were small plastic chairs wedged in the middle aisle. these were not uptight foreigners bellowing at the bus driver, but vietnamese people looking disbelievingly from him to the seats and then disdainfully stepping off the bus.
once we got back on the road, there were a few special moments when i thought puking would commence: issuing either from me, or the guy sitting next to me (who asked for a plastic bag from the woman sitting in front of us), or the woman in front of us (who had undone her hair and kept flopping her head from her husband's lap to the window and back, never finding a comfortable position). both of these people had little vials of fix-it potion, like all-healing tiger balm. when vietnamese people have a headache, or get nauseated, or their arm falls off, out comes the vial of green medicine that reeks strongly of menthol and eucalyptus and spices and is really the last thing i want to smell when i feel off-kilter from bus fumes and lurching turns. to make things worse, my brain evilly summoned up that monty python scene - i can't remember which movie it's from, but if i say 'mr creosote,' will you know what i'm talking about? it makes me start giggling just before it triggers my gag reflex. but there i go again, moaning about motion sickness and telling vomit stories. you'd rather be reading poetic odes to the mist over hai van pass, or the lush tropical forest of the twisty mountain road, bordered on both sides with curving coastline, wouldn't you?
well too bad. maybe i'll feel more poetic tomorrow. but tonight i'll be wishing you a happy lunar new year with a toast over a huda, the hue local brew.
posted by a wandering eye at 5:26 PM
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