Surreal.

I spent the last few days in Portland bustling around getting things done before I left; finishing tweaking the website for my mom, getting malaria pills, getting bug repellent, quick drying micro-fiber towel, stacks of 1s. Almost packed and ready to go.

I woke up bright and chipper at 5:30 am and ran around to pack the last few things that I might need on the trip. Before I left, I sat down and said a prayer to keep my eyes open to seeing and living new experience, and to enjoy growth, and to keep me safe. I had just finished when my parents arrived to pick me up and take me to the Airport. I met Niles there and we got on the flight to San Francisco, where we then transferred to the trans-Pacific flight to Ho Chi Min with a layover in Hong Kong. Instead of flying directly across the Pacific, the pilot (who we suspected was playing drinking games, drinking a regional brew for every region we flew over) decided to take the Pacific Rim. Kokane, Alaskan Amber, Vodka, Sake... the flight was a delusional 14 and a half hours without sleep. Niles, at 6'5" was scrunched in a seat trying to get some sleep to combat the cold/fever that he was feeling. He was very optimistic throughout it all though. After watching a few movies and eating, we had been in the air for 5 hours, and he was thinking "Oh, well only 3 more hours to go". Wrong. We weren't even at Ankorage yet. It was pretty much like a time vortex, floating around in suspension between timezones that flutter by without attaching themselves to any importance in our little tube in the sky. "Please don't leave your carrion items"... hehe. Time made sense only by the number of movies we watched, and the number of meals that we ate. Throughout the 20 hours or so we were travelling , I think I ate 5 airplane meals (Niles was sleeping and gave me one of his). He still can't believe I ate both of them; they were so gross... I was hungry, and my metabolism was on overdrive travelling while sleep deprived. I knew I was delusional when the word "Ground" looked like it was spelled wrong. It looks like groooond. L2 interference. Groond speed 512 mph. Let me try to sleep. The tot on the other side of the aisle starts crying/the guy near the window opens up the shade and floods the aisle with light/the projector of crappy movies right in front of us is flickering/the lady in the back with what can only be lung cancer sounds like she must have coughed up one of her lungs in the flight (the poor soul couldn't stop dry coughing). Time means nothing. The mind doesn't seem to mind being tired when you're distracted with mindless b-movies.

After stopping off in Hong Kong for a hour or so, we checked into the next flight to HCM, and were delighted to see that the check-in attendant at PDX had upgraded us to Business class. Shweeet! The meals were still crap, but at least we got to toast champagne when we got on. And oh the leg room... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! I love business class... I even signed up for the Mileage plus program. These are quite a lot of miles...

Anyways, so after another 2 and a half in the air, we finally landed knackered out of our minds at SGN, and breezed right through the most efficient and well-staffed immigration booths (every single one of them was operating at 10pm!), and the insanely efficient baggage processing (it got to the conveyor belt before we did!). We turned the corner to walk to through customs and the exit doors behind them, when we were hit with a gust of humidity that melted us inside of our fleece coats and hoodies. After stripping down, we exited be funnelled between a huge group of people standing more silently that I've ever seen. There were barricades on both sides of the exit doors, the kind that you would expect to see at a concert, and people lined up along them pushing them. All quiet. There were lots of teeny bopper girls in the crowd, and I wagered that a Vietnamese pop star must be arriving soon. Before we could escape the funnel we were assailed by a taxi driver offering us a ride. We followed him to his toyota suv and he tried to shake us down for 20 bucks to get to our hotel. Niles said the hotel said no more than 10. He said 10 a piece; we said 10 total. The guy said 25 min trip, 20. We said 10. He said 20, I reached for my bag out of his open trunk and said we'd go somewhere else for 10. He said ok, 15. We said 10. He said make an offer. We said 10. He finally shrugged in defeat. We hopped in his car. He didn't hold it against us. The regular price the hotel said was actually 5.


Surreal.

The AC in the suv didn't really have much of an effect, the humidity was so crippling. Everywhere out on the street were tons of people on motorbikes (I'm told there are over 5 million motos in this city). Half of them with 2 or more people on them (girlfriends, wives, boyfriends, families...). There are no traffic laws in Viet Nam, as far as I can tell. The swarms of motor bikes and taxis interchanged seemlessly; the lines on the road like suggestions in a 2-year old's coloring book. I was freaked out when we pulled out of the terminal and were heading right for a guy crossing the sidewalk. He moved along slowly, glancing at us as we almost hit him. The motor bikes are in the right lane and want to turn left, the cars in the left lane and want to turn right, and they just do it, filtering through each other with strategic honks of existence until everybody is going in the direction that they want. There is no stopping, just slow inter-migrations. It was all so foreign; I don't think either of us had the energy or mental capacity to fully comprehend the unfamiliar environment that we watched through our taxi windows. A guy beeping at a girl. Her turning around and yelling at him. Dude, she's not a hooker. I felt a sadness inside of the option that is chosen to enter the sex trade. I feel even more sad that it is seen as a somewhat acceptable option. I feel like I don't have the energy right now to deal with it or to understand anything. This makes me a little uneasy.

We got to our ritzy hotel, and got inside when Niles realized that his wallet was not in his pocket. We looked outside, and the taxi had disappeared. Oh shit. He felt around again, and there it was in his back pocket, where he normally doesn't keep it. Quit scarring me Niles. We checked in, and followed the baggage handler up to our rooms. We're from Portland. Curious look? You know California? Right above it. Oooh. Look of understanding accompanied by nod.

We crashed.

We woke up the next day and looked outside. To a sunlit river with ferries on it transporting hundreds of motorbikes across it, fighting the strong current that carries along tree branches and small bushes. The streets are still filled with motorbikes, but in the daylight (and with a good night of sleep) they are not as overwhelming. Just feeling the window, we can tell that it is scorching outside. 30 degrees C today with asphyxiating humidity. Shouldda brought more sunscreen. We go out to an ATM and get some food. Everywhere we walk, older guys with bike carts or motorbikes offer us rides. We walk through the market and people pull out chairs to the middle of the walkway and force menus in our faces. My pasty skin and Niles' dreds make us targets wherever we are. Walking money. Is that the Vietnamese price? Or the American one? I don't really mind, as 5 bucks is a bargain anywhere in the world for a national team football jersey.

Pretty soon we're gonna plan a tour to go to the Mekong Delta, riverboat tours, or motorbike tours with a friendly tourguide we met in the park. I can't wait to explore new terrains.

Until the next time...