Hanoi has been inhabited since at least 3000 BC. One of the first known permanent settlements is the Co Loa citadel (Cổ Loa) founded around 200 BC.

Hanoi has had many names throughout history, all of them of Sino-Vietnamese origin. During the Chinese domination of Vietnam, it was known as Tống Bình (宋平) and later Long Đỗ (龍肚; literally “dragon’s belly”). In 866, it was turned into a citadel and was named Đại La (大羅).

In 1010, Lý Thái Tổ, the first ruler of the Lý Dynasty, moved the capital of Đại Việt (大越, the Great Viet, then the name of Vietnam) to the site of the Đại La Citadel. Claiming to have seen a dragon ascending the Red River, he renamed it Thăng Long (昇龍, Ascending dragon) – a name still used poetically to this day.

As a way of celebrating Hanoi’s history Philippe Chaplin has researched a wide range of images of Hanoi,from the last 150 years, most of which  are photographs. What is interesting is that although Hanoi is rapidly developing many of the scenes  represented in the photos can be seen today.

For example the pousse pousse

This is Hanoi 1862 while the cyclo is still a common site in Hanoi in 2009 (however with the rapid rise in 4 wheel traffic it is probably an endangered species.

The street barber (who also manicures the ears and nose with the deftness of a surgeon) is another common sight in Hanoi in 2009. A tree is normally all that is needed or corner of a building -enough to hang a mirror (and sometimes steal some electricity from an overhead cable) and to place a chair.

Barber,Hanoi. Ray Harris

The conical hat is still very common even in central Hanoi in 2009

Hanoi-2009-Ray Harris

Ray Harris - brickworkers,Vietnam

Singers may not be a common sight on the streets of Hanoi today but he Cheo performers (traditional opera) still perform twice a week in th newly upgraded theatre.

Cheo -Ray Harris

Chanteuses

Avenue De La Cathedrale

and the Cathedral still packs them in at Christmas and Easter!

Avec 23 membres, la Scyrendale affiche un sacré dynamisme (photo PVC).

Vingt-trois adhérents et une présence à trente-quatre brevets régionaux pour une moyenne de dix participants par brevet. L’association de cyclotouristes La Scyrendale affiche un beau dynamisme et fait en sorte d’être vue un peu partout. Y compris à l’extérieur de la région puisque Richard Ponchel a participé à l’Ardéchoise le 18 juin et que le vaillant Sébastien Dave était engagé sur la Lapébie dans les Pyrénées le 6 septembre dernier. Des efforts qui sont récompensés puisque de nombreux clubs rendent la politesse à notre association burburaine qui a encore accueilli 594 personnes sur son brevet organisé le 30 août… Presque aussi bien que l’an dernier. Ces points constitutaient l’essentiel du rapport momral de l’association qui était réunie en assemblée générale, samedi soir, salle Urbain-Diolé. Comme le bilan financier laissait apparaître une saine gestion, il n’y avait de problème particulier à résoudre et les choses sont allées assez vite. D’autant plus vite que les membres du bureau se représentaient tous et qu’ils ont tous été reconduits : Eugène barbier, président; Dominique Damman, vice-président; Jean-Michel deleris, trésorier; Hervé Dave, trésorier adjoint; Jacques Dassonval, secrétaire; Yannick Hocq, secrétaire adjoint.
Pour le reste, Eugène Berrier a remercié la municipalité (qui était représentée par MM. Lagache, Obœuf, Lemâtre et Pocholle) pour la subvention annuelle (250 €) et le prêt de locaux et de matériels pour l’organisation du brevet. Remerciements également aux différents sponsors.
Evoquant la saison 2010, il a été signalé que le calendrier régional a été établi le 22 octobre dernier à Hondeghem, en présence d’une cinquantaine de clubs et que le brevet de Burbure est fixé le 29 août. Le montant de la participation individuelle est fixée à 2€.
Cinq nouvelles têtes devraient apparaître lors de la reprise, renforçant ainsi les effectifs du club qui ont légérement baissé en 2009, le montant de la cotisation annuelle restant fixée à 20 €.

Well, the time has come to start Kaylee’s Chemo treatments.  Days 1-5 will consist of 30-60 minutes of Cyclophosphamide  and 30 minutes of Topotecan.  Both Chemo meds are IV Infused.  Okay, so before I even think about going forward with this update, lets get one thing straight… from now on, I’ll refer to Cyclophosphamide as “Cyclo” and Topotecan as “Topo”.  I can’t even pronounce these words, let alone remember how to spell them.  Oh yea, wait until the coming months when you see the names of those Chemo meds… yikes!

So as we stand right now, it looks like Kaylee will be going home on Wednesday sometime.  She ends her first round of Chemo treatments on Tuesday, but the doctors want to evaluate her progress and make sure everything looks good before sending us home.

Her treatments started just before 3:00pm today, with some blood draws and some medicine to help her stomach – I call it the “No Pukie” medicine.

My dad and I left the hospital for a few hours to get some fresh air and run some errands.  By the time I got back to the hospital, Kaylee was fast asleep, and Day 1 of her chemo treatments was complete.  The only thing left was the Blood Transfusion I mentioned in the last post.  It’s now 11:20pm and the transfusion is just about finished.  I can already see the color returning to her face and lips.

Carol did tell me that Kaylee said that her stomach was upset, and it felt like she wanted to throw-up.  Luckily, that never happened, and she just went right to sleep.  I know the nurses gave her some medication to help combat the belly ache, but I don’t know what that medication was – right now.

Day 2 starts tomorrow at 3:00pm again, but she will not need the blood transfusion.  Tomorrow morning we’ll also start giving her an oral medication called: Difulcan.  This medication is to be taken once a day at around the same time every day.  Because we had to do the blood transfusion, and she was sleeping so well, they decided to skip the first dose, and give it to her in the morning.

We also skipped one other oral med; Bactrim that she’ll take every Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  This week she’ll take it on Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

Well, Day 1 is complete.   She’s still sleeping – even with the nurses coming in and out doing vitals and equipment checks.

Until tomorrow (in a few hours) we love you all and thank you for all your support and love.  Hugs and kisses from Kaylee.

Erkenntnis Nr. 1: Nur weil du dich gluecklich schaetzen kannst bei einer Nachttemperatur von 29 Grad Celsius eine Klimaanlage im Zimmer entdeckt zu haben, heisst das nicht, dass sie auch wirklich funktioniert. Am Anfang lief alles gut, und das Zimmer hatte eine angemehme Temperatur. Als wir um 3:00h Nachts dann durch die Hitze aufgewacht sind, funktionierte sie wohl nicht mehr… ueberlebt haben wirs trotzdem mal sehen was die naechste Nacht mit sich bringt.

Erkenntnis Nr. 2：Wenn du einen Cyclofahrer bittest dich  durch die halbe Stadt zum Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum zu bringen, erwarte nicht, dass er dich darauf hinweist, dass es Freitags immer geschlossen ist… Wir haben das beste daraus gemacht und sind zum nahe gelegenen Temple of Literature gegangen. Zu frueheren Zeiten war er Hà Nộis erste Universitaet, heute ein seltenes Bauwerk, welches die vietnamesische Architektur des 11. Jahrhunderts zeigt (die besonders schoen ist!).

Erkenntnis Nr. 3: Ich hab deutlich viel zu viel Kleidung eingepackt, die eindeutig viel zu warm ist. Oder kann mir einer von euch erklaeren wo ich hier bei Nachttemperaturen um die 28 Grad Celsius eine Fleecejacke oder einen langaermlichen Pullover brauchen kann? Wohl eher kaum… Zwar stand in Reisefuehren immern, dass die Knie bedeckt sein sollten, aber selbst Vietnamesinnen halten es bei solchen Temperaturen nur mit Ventilatoren und kurzen Hosen aus. Daher hab ich mir heute gleich mal ein Kleid gekauft man will ja nicht mit langen Hosen als “unpassend gekleideter Touri” auffallen

Erkenntnis Nr. 4: Es ist immer riskant irgendetwas auf der Speisekarte zu bestellen, dass man nicht kennt. Naja, so ist es mir heute Abend gegangen. Kai hab ich zuerst einmal den Spruch “Wer nicht wagt der nicht gewinnt” unter die Nase gerieben. Er hatte naemlich ein Gericht gewaehlt, dass er auch uebersetzen konnte. Das ich eine Suppe bestellt hatte wusste ich auch, naja der Geschmack war wohl eher bescheiden… so dass Kai mir gnaedigerweise ein Teil von seinem ueberlassen hat.

Allgemein war der Tag wohl lehrreich dennoch sehr schoen. Vorallen das vietnamesische Bier trinkt sich abends in einer kleinen Bar besonders gut (ja, es schmeckt sogar mir!）

Sarah

Taken on a long day of errands in preparation for a trip to England and the Middle East in a week and a half. Took this snap with the Ricoh just outside the best coffee shop in Phnom Penh located just west of Psar Thmei.

Cyclo at Psar Thmei

Dear everyone,

Jameelah and I are back in Seattle after a layover in Korea, where she fell in love with the digital toilet. It’s awesome, with a seat warmer and wonderful buttons that spray your undersides with water. Much more ecofriendly than using toilet paper. I think it’s the way of the future.

The trip ended too quickly, and now we are finding ourselves back in Seattle, trying to relearn basic things like showering with a regular shower and not a plastic bucket. Jameelah loves the country and is already is trying to find a way to spend six months to a year living there. The last week, she discovered Vietnamese transvestites. A traveling troupe of them came to the village, setting up an entertaining little fair with Bingo, carnival games, and singing and dancing in very skimpy clothing. Parents, ironically, brought their kids to see the transvestites. The children sat in the front row, amazed by the women in high heels who sounded like men and some of who could eat lightbulbs. Jameelah likes that the ladies have such confidence. She won a teapot playing bingo.

My eyes are bloodshot from jetlag, but more so from the thought that I will now have to re-confront work and other life responsibilities. For example, when we got home, we realized that Jameelah’s car has been stolen. Do you know what this means? My bad luck might finally be over! OK, that was insensitive. I’m jetlagged, OK? It’s 3:30am.

I’ve learned several lessons from this trip that I think will be very helpful for life in general, so I’d like to share them with you:

The early bird gets the banh beo. We became addicted to this dish (tiny rice cakes topped with peanuts, mung beans, and green onions, bathed in seasoned soy sauced) which was only available in the morning, as they ran out very quickly. Nothing is as disheartening as craving banh beo only to have to settle for xoi (sticky rice). In life, never settle for xoi!

When life stares at you, stare back. Jameelah received a lot of stares. At first she was intimated and annoyed, one time coming back home looking defeated. On guy on a bus several seat in front of us turned around over a dozen times to gawk. After a while, she learned to stare back at people. When they looked at her up and down, scanning her from face to toes, she reciprocated. It’s fun to watch people squirm when the table is turned on them.

Sometimes you have to close your eyes and cross the street. First-timers in Vietnam are oftentimes freaked out by having to cross the street, with its myriad motorcycles, cyclos, taxis, bikes, and pedestrians, all of who usually seem so intent on getting to their destination that they won’t care if you get turned into a Vietnamese pancake. If you think too much, you will freak out and won’t be able to cross. Stop thinking, start walking at a steady pace, and have confidence that you will make it to the other side OK.

In the sugarcane juice of life, don’t fret about the ants. We loved the fresh-pressed sugarcane juice. Shafts of cane are sent through a pressing machine, and a golden nectar results, served on the rocks, tasting of sweet summer, tinged with citrus. Usually there are a few unfortunate ants that get caught in the process and end up floating in your drink. You could return the glass, get your money back, but why let a couple of harmless ants ruin your day? Just take them out. Or heck, be adventurous and leave them in. They taste like lemon anyway.

Never underestimate the lowly cyclo. In Hanoi, we got ripped off taking the taxi from the bus station to our hotel. On the way out, we were hailed by an old cyclo driver, a man in his sixfties, who offered to take us both for a third what we paid the taxi. We were skeptical, thinking that there was no way he could take us both with all our luggage. We got on, and he was able to carry everything. On the way, I had a wonderful conversation with him that mainly involved him complaining about the French. So we got a great ride, good conversation, and for half the price. The basic things in life are usually better than the fancier, air-conditioned things that drove around the blocks several times to rack up the meter.

There is such a thing as too many coconuts: In the blistering heat of life, nothing beats a really cold coconut. Unless, you have more than two. Apparently coconuts have a laxative effect. Corollary lesson: In the restroom of life, always make sure you bring your own toilet paper.

Finally: Life is a mangosteen: The mangosteen is an awesome purple fruit which have little white segments that taste like bliss, like the innocence of lazy childhood afternoons flying homemade kites mixed with the delicate sweetness of true love. That’s why they’re so damn expensive. Like life, you can never tell if one is going to be good or bad until you cut into it. Grab one anyway, open it. If it’s good, savor it. If it’s not so good, eat around the bad part and grab another one.

We’ll get Jameelah’s car back, or find another one. Yeeha! See you later. I’m going to try to sleep.

Étienne qui contemple, essouflé, une sale côte de 18% à Rivière-du-Loup

Jour 5 (11 juin 2009)

En essayant de retrouver notre chemin, on grimpe une pente magistrale pour aussitôt se rendre compte que l’on pouvait l’éviter. Bah, et puis, ça nous garde en forme, hein ! Vers 18h30, arrivée chez Jean-Yves, un autre parent d’Étienne. Il faut croire que les Pelletiers sont productifs. Je commence à penser qu’ils constituent le quart de la population du Bas-St-Laurent. On s’installe, montons la tente puis mangeons une délicieuse pizza achetée par notre hôte. En contrepartie, il nous faut à nouveau subir une conversation d’âge d’or. N’empêche, ils sont plutôt rigolos, ceux-là. Finalement, avant de se coucher, appel des proches. Ça fait vraiment du bien de parler à Jeanne, d’entendre sa voix et de prendre de ses nouvelles. Je m’ennuie d’elle mais je tripe en même temps. Son « Je t’aime » me redonne courage. J’ai déjà hâte de la revoir. Après, on se gâte en prenant quelques bonnes gorgées de rhums qui ont raison de nous. Il faut dire, que ça ne nous prend pas grand-chose pour tomber vu notre état de fatigue. On sort la musique et on chante joyeusement sous la tente. On tripe. Tard, nos paupières se ferment tout doucement sur une superbe journée. Seulement 60kms sans vent, aujourd’hui. Le moral est retrouvé.

In early autumn of 1994, if you can say that Saigon even has an autumn, I was with my Froggy friend Stéphane Bulckaen and his steady sidekick Mr. Long, the dragon as I called him because his name in Vietnamese meant “dragon”. We were imbibing at Saigon’s fashionable Q Bar. In those earlier days there were very few expatriate bars so the Q Bar was pretty well the mainstay of the expatriate community, at least those who had jobs. Lots of the local Saigon expat community also hung out at the Liberty Hotel which was not too far away downtown on Dong Khoi Street. Lots of those Liberty Hotel patrons were the Vietnam War vets who spilled their hearts and guts with stories of their bygone general issue days and filled the empty space with warm beer on ice. They often found themselves accompanied by an audience of long-time Asia hand wannabes who were basically human gnats attracted to the dim glow the place radiated. The Q Bar had a fairly enclosed section in the back all the way to the right when you came in the entrance and it was that section where I preferred to go. It seemed that the people who went to this part of the bar actually had something to say but it was also the place where you could meet everyone because the pissers were located in that part of the bar. Oh, and the other benefit of being in that section was that if you needed to go to the pisser, well, it was kind of right there. And if the men’s room was full we just used the ladies’ room. Easy weezie!

Anyway, I deviate from the story…

As I mentioned before, Stéphane was (and is) a Frog. If I am not mistaken he was from Lille, (which I used to dub the “Lille-e-pad”), so he just loved to eat escargot. To common folks that means that he ate snails. God knows why but Stéphane was nuts over the damned things and had long since discovered a place outdoors on the street where they steamed up the slimy creatures each and every night and served up more food poisoning each week than the local hospitals could take care of. Yet for some insane reason Stéphane couldn’t be rested in his psyche if he didn’t eat some nasty snail meat at least once a week. Doing without would simply ruin his weekend. Quite often the poor boy would spend a day or two incapacitated, vomiting wildly and uncontrollably from food poisoning he’d get from eating these nasty gastropods. But later though and to my unfathomed astonishment he’d go right back to eating the mollusks again! When it came to eating snails Stéphane was like a goldfish that swam in circles in his bowl: It was a new experience every time!

Actually, watching Stéphane’s inability to eat for three days after these episodes at one time had me conjuring up the perfect non-fail dieting plan which comprised of eating snails until you puke and starting over with the snails again once the pink color returned to your face. In the end I chucked that idea because I was afraid that I might get hit with a thousand lawsuits from disgruntled dieters who developed bulimia through a psychological aversion to eating any kind of food thereafter. (By the way, didn’t anyone ever tell the French and Vietnamese that the closest relative to a snail is a damned slug? For heaven’s sake, stew on that one that for a while, wontcha?)

To get to the snail gettin’ place we “three musky tiers” would often take whatever was the most readily available transport, whether it be a taxi, motorcycle or cyclo, in order to go to Le Lai street in Saigon’s District One near to the New World Hotel. There were lots a snail eating places in the mid-section on this street, on the right if you are heading toward the river. Most of the time Stéphane and Long would go by themselves to eat snails but sometimes if they thought I needed something to do other than drink beer I would join them in order to witness them suck in those bacteria infested slime things – and to also drink beer during my witness duty. Anyway, the snail hawkers did have cheap beer to drink and young Vietnamese women customers to gawk at, who, like Stéphane, also were crazy about getting their regular self-imposed dose of food poisoning. As such I could be entertained enough at the snail eatin’ place until the time had passed and we three musky tiers were on to other misadventures.

That leads to the altercation.

One particular night Stéphane, Long and I decided to take some cyclos from the Q Bar to Le Lai Street so Stéphane and Long could gobble gastropods. Since I haven’t explained before for those who do not know what cyclos are, well, they are slow moving tri-wheeled vehicular death trap contraptions that are like a cross between push bikes, rickshaws and wheel barrows, which are often used to transport people, goods and broken down motorcycles. To drive a cyclo you must have a certificate from the government proving that you are a verifiable idiot, that nobody loves you (including your mother) and that you know how to annoy people and stuff up traffic on busy streets. I was outvoted on the decision to take the cyclos so I decided to get in mine and pretend that I was actually a fourteen year old kid pretending to be an international playboy in a cherry red Lamborghini. (Somehow I could never convince myself subconscious to really by that one…)

After the cyclo drivers had pumped down the road us about halfway to the intended destination I got the idea to do something out of drunkenness and / or pure idiocy: Persuade the cyclo drivers to let us drive the cyclos the rest of the way to the destination. (I must add that since then I have on several occasions seen tourists do the same thing. Whenever I would see this I would say out loud ‘What a cad!’ and stare in disbelief at how anyone with enough money to buy his next meal would want to side on a cyclo and pump it down the road. I somehow have the same reaction in Thai go-go bars when I seen drunken idiot tourists get up on stage and pole dance for a laugh.) To this day I don’t know why I did it. Although we couldn’t see ourselves in my mind’s eye we certainly looked damned stupid.

I have to tell you, no matter the similarity of operation in theory, in reality driving a cyclo was not like simply pumping bicycles around the neighborhood either. First of all, they are damned hard to steer because you steer with handle bars shaped like those of a huge grocery cart. It was worse than steering a battleship on a sheet of ice. You also couldn’t put the pedal to the medal so to speak. It was incredibly hard to get these contraptions to go at a decent clip and if you tried to force the vehicle to go too fast the chain would slip. Anyway, we eventually made it to a spot near enough the snail chomping spot when we finally stopped the cyclos to disembark. At that point some fool hit the idiot button and the cyclos drivers went into action and set to giving us what is known as “the old cyclo shuffle”: The agreed upon price of 15,000 dong had gone up to 50,000 dong.

The locals changing agreed upon prices unilaterally is something every foreigner living in Asia or Africa will have to go through on almost a daily basis. It’s like breathing air. Personally, I’d rather dunk my head in a tub of boiling ox shit than to pay those cheating assed cyclo drivers their revised rates. And of course the cyclo drivers were only trying to hit the two foreigners up for the dough, letting Mr. Long alone. I decided not to fiddle with the harp player for any longer, there was beer to be guzzled, so I laid the prior agreed upon amount for the “ride” we got (15,000 dong) in the seat of my cyclo and started to walk away. And that was enough to set ignorance into vigorous action. The muck brain cyclo driver who owned the cyclo I was in, who incidentally wasn’t quite a third of my size, bolted at me to seize me by the arm and tried to stop me from leaving. At that point, like we say in Arkansas, I hit black ice and went strait up. So my muck brain cyclo driver decided to threaten me with a bit of dazzling homegrown martial arts by striking a pose in the jackass position. Now twice physically threatened by this moron I was forced to “slug” him. And of course, he went down faster than a Mexican submarine.

The next thing any of us knew there were cyclo drivers everywhere and they had we three musky tiers surrounded tighter than a pack of hounds in squirrel season. These cyclo drivers were suddenly brandishing all of the homemade weapons they could find. Out of nowhere came homemade knives, metal bars, ice picks, wooden axe handle clubs and tire tools. Stéphane, though a Frog, didn’t hot foot it but rather assumed a commando defense position and although he had served in the French army I still believe he would have fought – I mean, you need to understand that Stéphane’s day job in those days was flying micro light and ultra light aircraft for tourists in the Vietnamese Central Highlands, which either requires a balance between bravery and lunacy. At the same time I could see from the corner of my eye that Long had also found a metal pipe to swing and was positioned directly behind one of our prime antagonists, ready to knock him into next week. But before another punch could be thrown the Viets, like jackrabbits on the prairie, all went into freeze position. Up the streets came roaring three army jeeps with uniformed commandos, or so I thought, who were carrying AK-47’s. How they were alerted so quickly I have never been able to figure out but nonetheless they broke up the one ring circus going on. They instructed me that they were police, even though they were dressed in greens like soldiers. The police head honcho, a chihuahua looking dasher, dismounted from the lead jeep.

When the chihuahua started barking questions our friends the cyclo drivers couldn’t dare explain the truth that the scuffle started because they had overcharged us for the cyclo ride. Nope. They reached deep into their collective imagination and collectively claimed that we three musky tiers had stolen the rides and one of them was wrecked now and couldn’t be driven anymore. The main complainant was my driver who’d gotten his jaw busted. Muck brain demanded to the police that I pay him a hearty sum of US$ 400 in reparations. “This guy knows what he’s doing,” I thought to myself, “He’s obviously been in this position before.”

See, the police knew that they would be on the receiving end of money if any was going to be changing hands from the foreigner guy to the local new found comrade. So stalling for time I told the cyclo driver to show me where the cyclo was busted. The cyclo driver hunkered down, pointed under the cyclo at the axle in general. I told him to pin point to me exactly where there was any damage that could be seen and he couldn’t. I went through a few more of the cyclo maniacs but none of them could agree where any damage was done. I then had an underling policeman get down to show me where the cyclo was busted. He couldn’t do it either. Having not seen the location where the very first cyclo driver was pointing out the policeman fingered an entirely different spot, the hub on the front right wheel. But because our policeman had found an imaginary spot himself I could immediately and clearly see that the police, no matter what, were going to cooperate with the cyclo hoodlums on this problem. They could smell cash in the sad situation. So I changed my tactics. I had to force the chihuahua’s hand.

I told the chihuahua that I agreed to pay the “ransom” money, er, reparations money…

Smiles went all over all of the cyclo driver’s and police faces. They’d won!

But not so fast…

I agreed to pay the entire US$ 400 not to the cyclo driver but rather directly to the chihuahua on behalf of the cyclo’s owner under the corollary that the cyclo driver could produce the ownership papers immediately and on site to prove that this was indeed his own cyclo! I knew from a neighbor that cyclo drivers had to have these papers on them the same like all Viets were required to have their personal identification on them. The neighbor also told me that most cyclo drivers had their identifications taken by organized criminals who made them pay regular “tithes” and “protection fees” in order to not be put out of business with a broken leg or a bashed up cyclo. I gambled that this screwball didn’t have his paperwork. And the gamble was a winner – the driver couldn’t present any documentation to show that this cyclo even belonged to him.

At that chihuahua barked to his troops and they did what any good Vietnamese policeman would do. They confiscated the cyclo! The chihuahua wasn’t going to leave without someone having to pay him something, and he now had a cyclo for collateral. And although he’d probably rather have hit the big time payday with a foreigner if the chihuahua could take the man’s cyclo it was a sure thing – money in the pocket. The police have to have some dosh to buy their gold watches, you know.

So Stéphane, Long and I got the Hades out of there but this time by taxi, and although I am notorious for troubles with taxi drivers, tonight the taxis were a welcome site.

We went back to the Q Bar and in the back section where I normally went was sitting the Bangkok based noted Canadian author, Christopher G. Moore. I had met him before a few times by chance in the Q Bar in those days. He asked what I was so exited about and so over the course of a few beers I told him the entire cyclo story. In fact I probably told him seven times, each time with greater force and detail.

Fast forward a few years…

I had since moved to Hanoi and an old friend of mine from Texas who I had met when I lived in Seoul, Korea, was visiting and staying at my house. My friend was Don Boring who had worked before for the Atlanta Journal Constitution, UNICEF and a university in Korea. Don was affectionately known to Seoul hashers as “Big Buoy” since he stood 6’7” and weighed like a bloated pony. “Why didn’t you tell me you are in a book?” asked Don. I hadn’t the foggiest idea of what he was talking about. His comment took me aback and made about as much sense a monkey speaking Greek. Then Don handed me a copy of Christopher Moore’s book Comfort Zone and sure enough, my cyclo story was in there, albeit paraphrased a bit by a fictional character. And the character Christopher chose to tell it was a minor player in the book, Charlie from South Carolina who spoke with an accent from another century…

So the moral to all this is, if you want to be in someone else’s book, you need to find someone sick enough to eat slimy snails off the street all the time.

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I don’t know how many of you out there have not only written your own books but have been in a book by other authors as well.  Well, I have actually have been in other books by other authors, both fiction and non-fiction.  But in one of the new works that I have been churning away on I relate the humorous story of how an altercation that I had in Vietnam in 1994 turned into a scene in a Chrisopher G. Moore novel, Comfort Zone, which was released in 1995.  This story I am actually incorporating into an autobiographical humorous book.

How do you find yourself in another person’s book?  Actually, I guess simply by knowing the right people (authors) and I guess being in the right place at the right time.  Read between those lines:

Have an interesting story to tell.

I happen to know a few authors and have known them for a while.  This comes from the work that I have done, the travel that I have done, my interests and the places that I have lived.

I don’t know why this would be an aim of anyone in particular unless, of course, you get some kind of ego boost out of it.  I was just thinking about it today due to the fact that when I was writing the story about going with my friend, Stéphane Bulckaen, by cyclo to eat snails (or not to eat snails in my case) then having an altercation with the cyclo drivers.  It just so happened that after this event happened I went into the Q Bar in Saigon where the novelest Christopher G. Moore was having a drink.  Since I had met him before I relayed the story then some few years later a friend who read Moore’s book recognized me and this particular incident in his book.

I was not identified personally anywhere in the book and that is fine with me.  I think it is neat to be recognized in another author’s book by someone living in another country.  Now, let’s see if who can be the next reader to find me in another book!  Maybe you can get on Twitter and let me know!

After travelling in Cambodia a few years ago, I was fascinated to learn more about the lives of the cyclo drivers who line the street corners.

Researched, written and designed by Eva Caiden.

Photo credits: Eva Caiden, jennikokodesu, MC MasterChef, Mimi_K, vithaya_lao, Andrew Pope and www.cyclo.org.uk.

A sneak preview of my first Cyclocross frame.  This will be for Chris Wright, a true design genius.  Lug design by CW…

Oscar-nominated Babel star, and co-star of the upcoming Brothers Bloom, Rinko Kikuchi has signed on to star in an adaptation of Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. It’s to be directed by Tran Anh Hung, previous credits of whom include Cyclo and The Scent of Green Papaya.

The main character Toru is to be played by Kenichi Matsuyama while Kikuchi will take on Naoko, the love interest of Toru whose troubled existence provides many opportunities for existential examination and heartbreak for our lead.

The book is not my favourite of Murakami’s, it being somewhat straightforward and relatively predictable when compared to the astonishing magical, mystical realism of Kafka on the Shore and the superb Dance, Dance, Dance.

However, any adaptation of his should be welcomed with open arms and, of his more celebrated works, this is probably the most conducive to a film adaptation. The brilliance of Kafka on the Shore is undoubted, but the book is filled with strange scenes which would be difficult to pull off.

Count me among those thoroughly looking forward to this adaptation.

Lee Byung-hun Meets Kimura Takuya in High-Profile Film

Two top stars from Korea and Japan have once again displayed their respective talents in the same movie. Lee Byung-hun and Kimura Takuya are appearing together for the second time–after their 2007 Japanese film “Hero”–in “I Come With The Rain.”

Directed by Vietnamese-French director Anh Hung Tran, whose works include “The Scent of Green Papaya” and “Cyclo,” the film is a multinational project starring Josh Hartnett and Elias Koteas in addition to Lee and Kimura.

The thriller centers around ex-Los Angeles cop Kline (Josh Hartnett) who travels to Hong Kong in search of the missing son (Kimura Takuya) of a Chinese billionaire. Lee plays a role of a mafia boss in Hong Kong.

With trailers released on April 18, it is scheduled to hit theaters in Japan on June 6. A large-scale premiere will be held in the island country, which all the stars will attend.

Source: KBS Global

Growing up, I spent every Saturday morning watching super hero cartoons and imagined that my unprecedented physical abilities would save the world. When teachers asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer would consistently be “I want to be a super hero and save lives!” No matter how hard I hoped to develop extraordinary powers and capabilities, I eventually learned that the cartoons that consumed my early childhood were fictional. I did not receive the gift of natural powers but I have the gift to make a difference.

I am fortunate to have been given several opportunities to visit Vietnam—my parents’ homeland—and witness first-hand how relatively poor the country is; it is an eye opening experience. My family and I are constantly dodging “cyclo” rickshaw drivers imploring our patronage and limbless panhandlers desperately seeking for help in the hot, humid weather. Back then, I did not realize that my mother wanted to shield me from the effects of the oppressive socialist regime, but it was so evident even at the age of five. After I gained knowledge about Vietnam’s history, I knew that I did not want to leave that world behind.

Several visits to Vietnam’s third world country and working with people who are less fortunate taught me the true meaning of life, love, of what it means to be human. It taught me that many people in first world countries take for granted the infrastructure that allows us to focus more of our energy in finding opportunities to get ahead while third world populations focus their energy on searching for safe drinking water and scavenging their next meal.

In the American culture where greed is cultivated through the materialistic way of thinking, overconsumption becomes normalized. In the “me” culture, individuals consume as much as possible leaving no thought for others. Poor people nowadays have resorted to murdering over a couple dollars for inessential objects to rise above others. Poverty does not lead to crimes—it is the “me” culture that emerged when the radical movements for social justice failed after the Vietnam War. The world in which resources were shared soon became a narcissistic realm where every man was for himself.  

I have had a lot of time to compare the vastly different cultures [the one I live in and the one I am currently visiting] and reevaluate what is important to me in life. In the Western culture where individualism is valued, I find that the Eastern culture complements my obligation to kinship—the latter is such a beautiful thing, which makes Vietnam much more attractive in many ways.

I’ve worked out that the first 36 hours I spent in Saigon I was asleep for 26 of them. I was literally out for the count as the last month caught up with me.

In the short while that I was awake I had a little wander round the city. Luckily everything in Saigon is relatively close together so it is easy to walk about from where I was staying in the main backpacker area.

One of the things I had been pre-warned about was the traffic. Although its generally pretty mental where ever you go in Asia, the traffic in Saigon takes it to a whole new level – utter madness. Unlike Thailand and Cambodia there’s no Tuk Tuks in Vietnam and apart from the few cars theres just millions of motor bikes – literally millions. I think some one told me that there are about 3 million motor bikes in Saigon for about the 2 millions people that live there.

But its not only the number of them it’s that theres no real order to when and when they drive. At some places there’s some sort of traffic light system but thats for the other traffic not for pedestrians so you have no chance. This is a relatively calm picture as I forgot to take one when it was mental – probably fearing for my life.

This means that to cross the road you have to walk out into the traffic when the traffic is not so bad and keep walking. If you keep walking they know where you’re going and will go round you if you stop you’re going to get hit.

The first place I visited was the Reunification Palace which was where the North Vietnamese Army’s tanks broke through on April the 30th 1975 which was when Saigon fell and the Vietnam war ended.

The palace isnt actually a palace as you’d think more like some sort of office space with some of the rooms decorated in a traditional oriental style. Its gets better if you go to the basement which has all the maps and radio equipment from the war and has all been left since the day it was taken over but its not some where you’d stay long.

Wandering down to the market I had some amazing Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) which I think is to become my staple diet for the next few weeks while in Vietnam.

After some harrassing from a guy called Sinh I took a cyclo to the war remerants museum amoung other plaes that I wasnt planning to go to such as the Ho Chi Minh museum which he insisted I see (gorgeous french building but not much there).

The war remenrantsmuseum is I suppose unsurprisingly very one sided with allthe things the Americans did to the Vietnamese. incidently you dont actually see mny people from the US here and all the Canadians put a Candian flag on their bags so they’re not mistaken as Americans – some people told me that the Americans do this as well.

After Mr Sinh tried to have one over on me on the price – was having none of it, I went back home havea shower and quick sleep before going out but passed out till the next morning….

the spacers have already caused their pain and it doesn’t hurt anymore. but you know why the pain is gone? WELL, it’s because the pain is just beginning!!

tomorrow is the big day. the day in which i can only eat apple sauce, mashed potatoes, rice pudding, and congee/RICE GRUEL/粥/죽. basically. it will also be the start of a world of pain and a bad senior picture, because even if you orthodontist tells you that you’ll be having them for a year to a year and a half, it’s really going to be longer. and every month, an unbearable pain similar to that of a PERIOD. >(

gdi. on the good side, i will eventually have straight teeth. i mean, my bottoms teeth are fairly straight. the tops are iffy, but i don’t have the worst teeth. i mean, have you SEEN some asian people teeth?! absolutely dreadful!! 

anyways, i have officially signed up for ap art. ms. hauser is surprisingly nice. ^^

history and math. problems. chemistry is fun, for a change! naming alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes, AND DRAWING THE LITTLE PICTURES!! hahaha

in japanese, we had a text chat practice that we have to respond to an answer in 90 seconds. it seems like a long time, but it goes by quickly!! and the only thing wrong with it is: you know exactly what you wanna type, but your fingers screw up and mess up and you have to press the space/enter and deleting takes the most time. japanese typing is super inefficient. *nods head*

でも、私は日本語の授業をいつも楽しみますから、大丈夫です！まゆげ、今、読んでいますかなぁ～ 

also, funny things about relay, funny things. oh, funny horoscope for myself and all the virgos out there. *wink* here it is!

your relationship will start to deepen when the positive changes you’ve made this year become apparent to that special person in your life. go with it and see where it takes you.

heh, wonder what that means.

some random words from me:

SOCCER CLEATS NOT ALLOWED
version A is mine.

timing.　冷蔵庫.

In a few weeks time I’ll be taking part in the Saigon Cyclo Challenge. Our school is entering a team in this annual event and we start training in a couple of weeks. By training I mean we’ll probably rock up to a nearby site, look at the cyclo have a quick ride around and then head off to a local pub.

For those of you not familiar with a cyclo (pronounced sick low) this is what one looks like.

The cyclo can be seen in most parts of Saigon but they seem to be, primarily, a form of tourist transport as local Saigonese prefer to move around town using xe om’s (motorbike taxi). Years ago I remember riding a becak in Indonesia, which is pretty much the same thing as a cyclo, and I recall that it looked much simpler than it turned out to be. I’m sure the cyclo training will come in useful if only so that we manage to keep the thing upright.

The Saigon Cyclo Challenge, to be held on Saturday March 7th, is a charity event used to raise money for Saigon Children’s Charity and businesses, schools and embassy’s traditional enter teams in the race. There are several heats culminating in a final. However it’s not a straight out race. You and your team also have to participate in various pit stop games  which are going to be, by the sound of them, amusing and, if the goo they mention is anything to go by, very messy. I’m looking forward to the day and to enjoying myself with friends and colleagues from work.

This is the official blurb from the Saigon Cyclo Challenge 2009 Press Release. If you wish to find out more see their website at http://www.saigonchildren.com/events.php

On Saturday 7 March 2009, the ninth Saigon Cyclo Challenge will be held, re-igniting fierce rivalries forged each year since the Cyclo Challenge of 2001. The Cyclo Challenge is considered to be the premier Event in Saigon’s charity/ sporting calendar. In the nine years since its inception the Cyclo Challenge has proved an enduring Team Building event where Co-ordination and Team Spirit reap Rewards. Teams with Skills such as Imaginative Design, Choreography and Performing Arts and those with Stamina, Manual Dexterity and Determination will Win their Finest Hour.

The Cyclo Challenge is without parallel. It celebrates a unique Vietnamese cultural icon and major tourist attraction: the environmentally friendly, non-polluting Cyclo.

Seven cyclo races will be the feature of the day. Companies riding brightly decorated cyclos and supported by drumming bands and cheerleaders will do battle. This is the day for entertaining staff or corporate clients; the event will feature a VIP marquee, a ‘food village’, corporate hospitality tents, bars and coffee corners and a children’s activity zone.

Over the years hundreds of sponsors and thousands of participants have raised tens of thousands of dollars for the education of children in need. The growth of the Saigon Cyclo Challenge is a glowing testimony to the Health, Fitness and sense of Social Responsibility of Saigon’s business community. Our goal is to raise US$70,000 in 2009.

Spectator fees will be VND250,000 for adults, VND150,000 for children under 12, and free for the under 5s. The Children’s Activity Zone will boast dozens of activities including driving mini-cyclos, bouncy castle, face painting as well as free ice cream, drinks and prizes for our younger spectators to enjoy.

“Cyclo” photograph used under creative commons licence. Original version appears here http://www.flickr.com/photos/cuulongden/397020828

Hanoi’s beautiful, but cluttered. One way to deal with visual clutter when shooting a moving object is to pan, freezing the subject and blurring all that unnecessary information. Another way is to shoot black and white, as color can sometimes be another unnecessary distraction – especially when the color just isn’t that great that day.

© Julian Abram Wainwright, 2009.

Huế

When we arrived in Huế I felt very very ill. So I had a bit of an esophogeal eruption on the side of the road. After that I felt fine. Which was nice.

We had about five hours to explore this ancient city, but began with the most important thing; food. We had some breakfast at a lovely little restaurant. This meal was followed by a short ‘cyclo’ ride to the apparent main tourist attraction, The Citadel. The seat of the Nguyen emperors was in here. Inside the citadel was a forbidden city where only the concubines, emperors, and those close enough to them were granted access, the punishment for trespassing being death.

We however were not killed and were able to really explore the place, at times we felt we had a bit too much freedom, being able to climb and look around freely.

My definite highlight was not the chance to explore ancient ruins , or the wonderful architecture, or the new historical point of view that I had gained on Vietnam. It actually came when I got the opportunity to feed their Koy Carp.