An Odd Moment in Hanoi

I was strolling around Lake Hoan Kien which is a lovely place (see photo below) but you can’t avoid being swarmed by postcard sellers, etc., while being there because it is a big tourist spot. I had ignored the usual suspects calling out “postcard, postcard” and “motorbike, motorbike” (if you want to pay for a ride somewhere) but I was caught offguard by a young man selling books. Although he could barely speak English he was offering to sell me a copy of (very clearly enunciated) “The Quiiiiet Americaaan by Mister Graham Greene”.

I looked at the book, and it was a brand spanking new Penguin edition. I was tempted. But it felt like such a cliche to buy that book in Indochina. So I passed. But I think I’ll always hear that young man’s voice saying “The Quiiiiet Americaaan by Mister Graham Greene”.

Dead Celebs

First Porter Waggoner, now Robert Goulet.

How many more Old Singers I Don't Care About can die in one week?

(Somehow I expect the death of Robert Goulet to bring on some serious teeth-gnashing and garment-rending by JAW Fan....)

More Halong Bay

In the top picture, you should just be able to make out the lookout at the top of the hill. There were 425 steps to make it from the beach to the lookout, but I was determined to make it to the top because we got there as the sun was setting and I wanted a photo of the sunset. So I scaled those dang 425 steps. And got the second photo. It was worth it.

Whilst scaling and sweating and panting, I was passed by more than one fit, trim European who got to the top without even breathing hard. How I hated those people.

Halong Bay

Here are a couple of photos from the boat cruise I went on in Halong Bay, which is about 3 hours from Hanoi. There are about 2000 of these little islands; most are unihabited. It's a beautiful place. More later.

Book News

A five-hour layover at Narita is good for only one thing: reading.

So I did get two books read while on vacation. I will strongly recommend Everything is Illuminated, mainly for the way it creatively demolishes the English language with such joy. One of the main characters, a Ukrainian tour guide/translator, is played by our man Eugene Hutz in the movie. I haven’t seen the movie but this didn’t stop me from picturing our Eugene in every scene. He’s a perfect fit for the part. This book even made me want to go to Ukraine. I’m not sure why since it makes Ukraine look like a complete rat-hole but it still made me curious about the place. Anyway, this book is very clever and wildly inventive, etc. etc. Read it.

I also got around to reading Fight Club. Should I talk about it or not talk about it? Must agree with Ms Mushrooms who said the movie was better. Indeed. I dunno if I would’ve liked the book better if I hadn’t known the twist from the beginning. Regardless of that, two things bothered me: 1) too many repetitive descriptions of the narrator’s face and how it is beaten to a pulp; and 2) too many descriptions of how to make a bomb and home-made nitroglycerin, etc. I just didn’t care that much about those details, Chuck. There’s some good stuff in this book, but it didn’t bowl me over.

Sox Appeal

Yay for the Red Sox and their sweeeep of the no-personality Rockies. I love you Jason Varitek.

In other news, boy, is it hard to come back to work. I'm feeling a tad listless, but also happy because some stupid lame work-related things happened in my absence and I am glad to have missed them.

The dumbest comment I've heard so far about my trip was from a neighbour who asked if I had gone to Vietnam to adopt a baby. I don't know why I was so appalled by the question. Maybe because anyone who knows me AT ALL knows this is a preposterous idea. I'm the least likely person on Earth to be travelling overseas to adopt! Good grief!!

My Hanoi Hotel

I stayed at a hotel called Hong Ngoc at 99 Ma May Street. I was treated well and really liked staying there. Very comfortable bed.

So I was looking at the hotel's web site, and what did I find? Not only does this little chain run 4 hotels in Hanoi's old quarter, it also runs a hospital. Huh? Here I was feeling sick in Hanoi. How could I know my hotel also ran a hospital? Does anyone ever think "hmm, I wonder if my 15-room hotel has a corresponding hospital?" What kind of hotel chain also runs a hospital? I love Asia.

http://www.hongngochotel.com/en/?frame=hotel&h=5

Jet Lag

I have a sleep problem. I'm sleeping 8 hours, so lack of sleep is not the problem.

The problem is that I sleep from 1 to 5 a.m. and from 1 to 5 p.m. I've been in this pattern for 3 days now. I just can't stay awake in the afternoon.

This has to be fixed in the next 48 hours. It has to. Or else I'll be sleeping at my desk all afternoon on Monday. Maybe I can just shut the door and snooze.

California Wildfires II

The grief counsellors have landed in Southern California. The "healing" has begun. The healing. My god. Haven't these people suffered enough?

Apparently the aid, both State and federal, has been very good. Is it terribly evil of me to think that this is directly related to the fact that a lot of rich white people had their homes threatened? If So. California was as poor and as black as New Orleans, what would be happening now? The place would still be burning.

Old Gay Albus

On the one hand, I feel like I should say something about Dumbledore being gay. On the other hand, who cares? It doesn't change the story. Am I missing something?

Me and My Dong

Vietnamese currency is called Dong. (Go ahead, insert your own joke here.) The exchange rate is 16,000 Dong to one US dollar. That is not a rate that makes for easy conversion.

The new bills are really pretty and colourful. They all have a picture of Ho Chi Minh on them. On the 100,000 and 50,000 Dong notes, there is a transparent window. You can look through the money and see your hand on the other side. It is really cool. I guess this is a new mechanism to prevent counterfeiting. It is very hi-tech looking money.

But the problem with Dong is that you can't exchange it anywhere. I find myself stuck with a wallet full of Dong.

Because I left Saigon at midnight, the currency exchange counter at the airport was closed. When I showed a Dong to the lady at the exchange counter in Narita, Japan, she looked horrified. She waved her hands at me and looked upset in a very exaggerated way, like I was trying to exchange tainted devil money or something.

When I got to Montreal, I asked the lady if I could exchange Dong and she said no. She didn't looked terrified like the Japanese lady had, she just said no. And suggested I try their local bank. I didn't even know there was a local Vietnamese bank, and so far, I've no luck locating it.

But good fortune intervened. I found out from a work friend that we have a colleague going to Vietnam on business in December. So I said to her that I would be happy to sell her my leftover Dong at a discount. I've got the equivalent of $56.00 worth, and I'll be happy to unload it for $50.00. Whatta deal. I hope she'll want it. I can't see why not. Otherwise, I'm stuck with this worthless currency.

Harvest Moon

I hope everyone has a chance to look up at the full moon tonight. It is enormous and so beautiful.

Those Japanese Toilets

Ah, sweet memories of Tokyo and Narita airport.

I had read about these new fangled toilets that have a button you press which sets off a fake flushing sound to cover the embarrassing real noises you might be emitting in the stall, but I never thought I'd get to use one. It was so exciting.

I'd never seen a toilet with so many gadgets. No. 1 for me was the fake flushing noise, which in my humble opinion, sounded indeed fake. It didn't sound like a real flush. I had to push it twice just to hear the sound.

No. 2 cool option was the built-in bidet which when I pressed the button set forth a very stimulating jet of water. That was super cool. The other option was more like a cool refreshing breeze, but the powerful water jet is, I think, what would have people coming back for more.

There was a 4th button but I can't remember what it was.

So on my return trip, when I got to Narita, I headed for a toilet only to be sadly disappointed. No fancy toilets in the satellite area of the airport. I was at Narita for over 5 hours so I visited a number of bathroom stalls and not one had the new toilets!

I was tempted to walk all the way over to Gates 76-77 where I KNEW the new toilet was located, but I was just too tired. It's a huge airport and that would've been a lot of walking. I just didn't have the energy.

So if you are ever in Narita with some time to kill and want a little fun, head to the ladies room near Gate 76-77 in the main terminal building. It's worth it.

Another fun little past-time is to ride the mini-rail between the main terminal and the satellite terminal. Just because.

Also, Narita is so fancy I felt totally inappropriately dressed for the airport. The duty free area with all the exclusive shops is huge. Like a small shopping mall. And it is so classy looking, I felt like it should have had a sign that said: "Dinner jacket required." Maybe it did in Japanese. I dunno. On the way over, there were two ladies handing out free sips of Chivas. Yo. I was too sick to take one, but free Chivas is not a bad thing at all in my book.

P.S. Another cool thing in the bathroom at Gate 76-77. You know how with most public sinks you just run your hand across and the water comes out? Well, in this bathroom, the soap works the same way. I put my hand under the little spigot looking for something to press and magically I had a handful of soap. It was unexpected and quite cool.

California Wildfires

I'd like to hear from our West Coast correspondent, LLJ. She's the only person I "know" (if I may say that) in San Diego, and it would be good to know that her house hasn't burned down and she and Able Assistant are okay.

Paging LLJ, Paging LLJ.

Home Again, Home Again

I slept pretty well last night, except for the presence of Mr. D. who wanted to play, play, play at 4:00 a.m. He had been lonely, apparently. My cat sitter told me that they were all missing me. Aw.

Anyway, I'm back. I'm feeling quite okay, I've unpacked my suitcase, bought groceries, and done a load of laundry, but I would not attempt to operate heavy machinery today.Not that that is likely to come up, I hope. I'm still too dozy for that.

There's plenty to tell, including those Japanese toilets! but it will have to wait a bit. Also, I must get my film developed so I can post some photos in the next few days.

I'm glad I survived this adventure, but I'm kinda sad that I may never go to Asia again. It's just too darn far and my delicate health just won't permit it. That is a major drag.

Let's get physical and start loving the mullet

Halloween encroacheth.

Here on the mushroom farm, it means trying to figure out costumes for the kids (which I'm not too good at).

Miss Mushrooms wants to be "an 80's girl". I invited her to peruse my closet. She seemed oddly unimpressed with even my lime green big shouldered shiny blazer. A few days later, she announced that her 80's girl costume needs leggings and leg warmers. Mr. Mushrooms and I mumbled something about needing to get going to soccer (he's not good at costumes either). Later she e-mailed us colourful word documents complete with google-image-found images of Olivia Newton John in her "Let's get physical" phase (Oh God, now I've got to find one of those fuzzy headband things too). Miss Mushroom is a resourceful girl and I'm hoping she can work this out without too many trips to obscure dance stores. That sounds more like a dad-job, no?

Mushroom Jr. is easier (I thought). He wants to go as his hero, Ozzy Osbourne. Someone gave us long tunic thing that is supposed to be for the Indian festival of Diwali, but it can double as Ozzy in the early 70's. And I can just buy a long black wig. What can be easier, right? Wrong. Superstore had long blond wigs, and Afro wigs, and even a diva curly blond wig (which I bought and offered to Miss Mushrooms for the 80's girl costume which was rejected so maybe Mr. Mushrooms can wear it when he hands out candy), but no Ozzy-straight-black hair wigs. What they had was a mullet wig: hideous and scary and I bought it. Mushroom Jr. commented that this was not Ozzy hair but put it on and immediately loved it (what's not to love?). He then happily claimed that he will go as a hippy which is the great fall-back of all Halloween costumes.

What's scary for me is all those cute grade 10 guys had mullets and we didn't even know the hair that everybody had even a had a name, let alone that it would make us so embarrassed 30 years on.



(cityofmushrooms over and out-
welcome back nanuk-hope you are feeling better)

I'm coming home early!

My delicate health has not permitted me to continue the trip as planned, so I'm on my way home tonight (Monday). I've spent a few extra days in Hanoi waiting for a re-issued plane ticket but it appears all systems are go.

This has been a good trip, but not the one I've planned for. That's life for ya.

I'll blog more on this when I'm back home on Tuesday.

Memorize it

As I walk mushrooms jr. to school each day, and try to stuff the times table into his protesting brain (last week the 4 times table was stumping him; this week it's the 6), I think about the lost art of memorizing. Teachers always say, "Oh you can work on that at home," Er, thanks. When I was a kid, we were always memorizing things. I've still got the "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech in my head, as well as the balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet". And decades after I got out of elementary school, and had kids of my own, lo and behold, the times table (up to 12 -- woo, woo!) appeared in the front of my brain when I needed it to drill children on.

So here's to memorizing. We should all memorize something today. Speaking of Shakespeare, how about that great old-love-is-good-love, anti-self-improvement sonnet 130?


My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

(So much for romance, eh?)

Also, think of how much better that poor Leonard Shelby in "Memento" would have done, if he could memorize ANYTHING at all.

I'm in Hanoi

We made it! and So did our luggage.

No time, as my Internet money is running out. I'll check-in later in the week.

Ask me about Japanese Toilets! I love 'em.

What's that book doing there?

So, it's Autumn. Time for Nanuk to travel to a far off land, for me to try to drive her blog, and for the literature shortlists to come out.

WHAT is Michael Ondaatje's "Divisadero" doing on both the Giller and Governor General's lists? I'm an Ondaatje fan. I like the poetry from the 70's, love "Billy the Kid" and "Coming Thru Slaughter", of course. How can you not? I even like the supposedly unreadable "English Patient" (the section on the winds in the desert remains amazing).

But I just don't get "Divisadero". Is it 2 books? Is it half a book? Is it 2 half unfinished books? Why get me all involved with a character (His whole back story and the inside of his head, his gambling habit which gets him into big trouble, so much trouble that he gets his head kicked in and loses his memory) only to drop him and fly off to tell the story of one of the interchangeable women characters (Couldn't tell them apart, you know the way Woody Allen women all talk like Woody Allen? Like that) off in France with fiddle playing gypsies who keep sticking sprigs of basil or spring onions in their pockets and maybe a son of a gypsy thrown in for good measure not to mention a French poet or a French doctor. I lost track of where I was and who was who and what the whole point of it all was. I just wanted to get through the book (Why didn't I just shut the book or throw it across the room? Too stubborn).

And so now, its convoluted "lyric" and "poetic" "layered" writing (run screaming, now!) is topping prize shortlists. I am missing something. A dumb reader, maybe? A tired one who thinks life is too short to wallow in the whatever it was I was clearly missing.

Anyway.

A book I'm glad made the GG list is Barbara Gowdy's "Helpless". A book that scared the Giller judges, I guess, because tho' it made the longlist, it was cut in last week's shortlist announcement. "Helpless" is a really good book. I highly recommend it. This is what her website says:

Helpless is Barbara Gowdy’s brilliant new novel, a provocative, gripping story of an unthinkable act and a mother’s heroic love for her child.

Rachel is an uncommonly beautiful young girl. With her tawny skin, pale blue eyes and chromium-blond hair, she is a cherished gift to her mother, Celia. Celia is a single parent holding down two jobs. All too aware of her own precarious equilibrium, she worries about Rachel’s innocent longing for her unknown father.

When a blackout plunges the city into darkness and confusion, Rachel is snatched away. Celia, numb with terror and guilt about the choices she has made, confronts the reality of every mother’s worst nightmare. The media coverage is tremendous. Closely monitoring it is Ron, a small-appliance repairman with a rare collection of vintage vacuums in his basement. Though Rachel is a stranger to him, he feels oddly connected to her, as though she is his responsibility. His feelings for her are, at once, tender, misguided and chillingly possessive.

Tapping into the fear and tension just below the surface of contemporary city life, Gowdy’s clear-eyed prose artfully urges us to consider what we dare not look at too closely. With her uncanny ability to lay bare our common soul and to fearlessly explore the intricate complexities of love, Gowdy has created a masterful novel.