Elemental?

Now Listening: Silver Jews, "I Remember Me"

On our way to survey some of the project sites Habitat has in Kien Giang Province, in the Mekong Delta, Midori and I passed through Phu Quoc island. Phu Quoc is essentially off the coast of Cambodia, but during one of the many recent convulsive S.E. Asian wars prior to this relative calm, Vietnam laid claim to it. During the Vietnam War, the U.S. kept a prison for suspected V.C. on it; the prison is still in operation.

We saw none of this, because we sat on our asses on the beach for a day and a half. I also took a Lot of photos. I'm trying to set up a Picasa account to post 'em on, but I'm having some technical trouble. So in the mean time, a smattering, and then later (I hope) a link to the rest.

This is Midori (the smiling, non-Vietnamese one) immediately prior to boarding. We arrived at 3:45am for a 5:55am flight; the airport wasn't even open yet. More sleep and less caution next time.

Uhm. Paradise?
Well, sort of...

I like the woven boats,
and this blue.

They're hard to see, but I pulled one of these guys' spines out of my foot after about three minutes in the water.

And, of course, it's monsoon season:





Finally...they are beautiful, these cattle in the sand:
I think I have plenty for a second post. Unless public outcry is overwhelming, I'll post more specific (and interesting?) photos tomorrow (I hope). Also, an overdue respect-is-due...

Pat's Night Out

Last night I was invited out by Mr. Tan, whose friend (brother, perhaps?) was celebrating the opening of his new cafe in Nha Be District of HCMC:

That's Mr. Tan, breaking it down on the left. You can tell he's an architect because of his black-framed glasses.

Going out Vietnamese style is an all-male affair. Apparently on Friday nights men go out and drink themselves silly while their wives and mistresses wait at home for their husbands/lovers to come home feeling randy, presumably Not listening to Loretta Lynn's "Don't Come Home a Drinkin' (with Lovin' On Your Mind)." Anyway, so this outing was all men, and included many men dancing with other men, as above. And that's how -- VERY far from home, the guest of a friendly co-worker, with no reasonable way to leave politely -- I found myself in THIS position:



Yes, yes, that's me twirling a very nice, very drunk Vietnamese man, whose name I do not remember. And, of course, I had a dance with my host, too:

You may thank Luke, an engineer who's also volunteering with Habitat Vietnam, for the photos.

After the dancing, Mr. Tan showed me and Luke around the house, parts of which he designed. Then Mr. Tan drove me back to his home (nearby) where his not totally-pleased wife let us in, and where I spent the night quietly fighting for space under a Winnie the Pooh blanket with one of Mr. Tan's children, who had snuck into the bed when I had momentarily risen to use the bathroom.

I won eventually, but it was hard fought.

Why people live in Boston

Not Crimes: "Remnants"

The Ho Chi Minh City "War Crimes Museum" has been rechristened, since my increasingly-unreliable guide book was published, as the "War Remnants Museum." Clearly the exhibitions remain as they were.

Not many photos to post, since most of the exhibits -- save the odd helicopter, tank or miscellaneous ordance sitting in the gardens -- were themselves photos. But (if you'll pardon the soapbox for a moment) a single thought.

Most of the exhibitions were photographs, and the museum admirably paid due to the photojournalists who took them, honoring those on all sides who died in the process:

And looking around at their handywork -- generation-defining photos by Larry Burrows, Robert Capa, Henri Huet, et al -- it's hard not to think that at least their work stands as a testament to why they risked their lives. These folks sent home the images that revealed the Vietnam War as it was, gruesome, cruel, and futile, and it profoundly changed American perception of the use of military force (right? Right?). None of this is new, and others have phrased it better.

So what I don't get is, journalists are getting scuppered left and right in Iraq right now, but I don't see what's to show for it. We are all aware, vaguely, of the media black hole that is Iraq, but after seeing, again and all at once, images that shook us as a country, it is TOTALLY SCARY that little of the sort is coming out of Iraq. The images that do make us shudder collectively have all eluded censors, to reach us through informal channels: Abu Ghraib, a botched hanging filmed on a cell phone. There are some mitigating circumstances: we have a professional army now, and the force deployed in Iraq is a fraction of the 500,000+ in Vietnam in 1968. But we know from a few reports that we haven't gotten any nicer as an occupying force, and certainly fighting wars hasn't gotten cleaner. This void, of information but especially of images, is a smear against both government officials who want to fight a war without acknowledging the mess it makes and media outlets that refuse to push them for access.

It makes one wish -- I cannot believe I'm writing this -- that Life Magazine were still around.

A Day in the Life...

Some photos of my basic life in HCMC:

The view to the left off of my "balcony" (it's about 2'x2'):
The view to the right:

My desk getting great warm light through the curtains, about 3pm:


...and what I see when I shave:

I'm definitely taller than the average VietBear.

INTRODUCING...

My girlfriend Blair, who is off to The Gambia next week, for 27-months in the Peace Corps (go on -- try to find it on a map). You can read about her certain-to-be-zany exploits on her blog "the gambia on one blair a day":

http://wellmeaningwhitegirl.blogspot.com/

I've added the link under "Important Blogs & Sites" on the right. I leave it to you to figger out which one it is.

This is what she looks like now.

Note the cute cheeks and the warm smile. I'll try to post an "After" picture when I next see her - the Peace Corps can Do Things to a gal. I'm guessing she won't be wearing the sparkly dress...

Okay food time now!

Opinions Divided on Reunification Hall

My guide book sez, "Reunification Hall is one of those take-it-or-leave-it destinations. Some like it, some hate it." He then goes on to make VERY CLEAR which is his camp: "...the rambling 'Hall exudes a sterile atmosphere and displays appalling taste in architecture and furnishing." Even giving him his normative perogative, I still think he's unfair:


It's pretty commie on the outside, I grant, but the grounds are pretty, and those second-and-third story windows are great from the inside:

Also, the open windows on both sides give great cross breezes, 'cause DANG it's hot here.