Whew, that was too long from civilization. I just got back to DaNang and made a beeline for the internet cafe.
The last 3 days were spent in Hue and my mom’s village outside of Hue. I have to bitch for a moment: I really don’t like getting in a car and having no idea where I am going or how long I will be there. A big group of us left in a hired van and my cousin’s Camry for Hue a few days ago, then 2 days ago we were leaving the mountains and my other cousin said “see you in a few days” and I said “where are you going?” “Home, to Danang.” “Oh. Where am I going?” There’s been a lot of that.
Hue
First Hue, which I loved. The city itself is very nice and it looks like there’s lots to do. It was 2 days before a festival, Buddha’s birthday or something (I really am the worst buddhist ever) and I’d noticed in DaNang, before we left, that in the evenings the kids were drumming and dressing up in dragon suits and dancing, getting ready for the festival.
We drove around Hue at night and the kids were already out. The streets were so packed with people that our driver had to make a U-ey in the middle of the road because we couldn’t get through. The expertise of the drumming and the costumes varied from group to group. Mostly, the older kids and teens had their stuff together, but I think the lil’ scrappers stole the show, just jumping around recklessly. Here’s what I could piece together: one kid sits in a cyclo with a big drum between his knees, another crouches in front, they both bang. Another kid pedals and yet another kid pulls and steers. Then there’s a kid in a weird creepy mask, I can’t tell if he is good or bad, and then a few kids in the dragon outfit, all wearing snazzy britches and the one in front holding the head. Then they sort of chase the masked guy, hug random tourists (probably pilfering pockets), climb poles… I have a feeling I am missing something. But it looked fun.
The Ancestors
We were actually staying outside of Hue, in the mountains, with the family that takes care of my ancestors’ gravesite. I should probably explain that gravesites and tombs and shrines are very big in Viet Nam. I guess I’m too american to really understand why, in such a poor country, so much is invested in maintaining such elaborate shrines. But anyhow, I was able to visit the graves of my grandparents and burn incense. It was beautiful, really. We drove way up into the hills and then got out at the house and walked into the woods, crossing streams and climbing more hills… Viet Nam is really not a country for old ladies, I notice every time I help my mom over a gravel field or up a really steep flight of wooden stairs.
The grave is really big, I don’t even think you can call it a grave. I will post pictures one of these days.
My family kept asking me if I was okay (they are still hyper-vigilant about my well-beling, which is the opposite of what would make me happy) and all I could think was “I walk trails for a living! Give me a break.”
Finally we got out to the hillside where all the graves are. Ours is at the top, and it’s huge. All the sites are multi-tiered and you start with the incense at the top (”the big guy”, according to mom) and work your way down. My cousin Y and her brother Ho were visiting their father’s grave. He died last year and they were very emotional.
Oddly enough, probably the the most comfortable night of sleep since I’ve gotten to Viet Nam (except my own bed and AC in the hotel in Nha Trang) was in the caretaker’s house. I could tell the lady of the house was very proud of the room I was to sleep in with my mom. I felt awful about turning them out of the master bedroom, but I’ve come to realize that I will not win certain arguments. I’m not sure where the family slept, but I know my family took over the house.
Evidentally, the caretakers are very grateful to my family because they first moved to Saigon completely broke and were unable to find work, and my uncle told them he would pay them to live outside Hue and maintain the family plots. They also opened a roadside store (every home by a major road sells something, I noticed) and they’re quite happy, so I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad about it.
This woman walked up the hill in the morning selling bun bo!
Flowing Robes… Striking
I’ve decided that my favorite people to photograph are monks. I’ve found it very hard to take candid photos because if I am about to take someone’s picture, someone else will get their attention so they look right at me. I’ve started turning off the flash and taking sneaky photos from my lap, or acting like I am adjusting a setting or something. And if we visit someone very interesting looking, like my ancient, one-eyed great-uncle, and I want to take a close-up, suddenly everyone is getting in the photo and it turns into a huge family portrait, and they insist I get in too.
And the vietnamese tend to take very formal pictures, very stiff. Whenever they make me get in a photo, I turn out with this goofy expression on my face, like a half smile because I don’t want to be the only grinning moron in a sea of stoicism.
Anyway, while were were at the house in the hills, I kept noticing monks on scooters buzzing up the hillside, which always makes me laugh. Like a nun on rollerskates or something. And when we got back from an outing, there was our resident monk hanging out at the house. They told me that there is a buddhist temple up the road, which explains it. Our monk was this really happy, smiley guy, I mean seriously, he was always smiling. He joined us for dinner, though he didn’t eat. I took some pictures of the family before we ate and he grabbed a beer and jumped in. I think it’s one of my favorite pictures.
The next day we went up the hill to the temple, and it was gorgeous. And the monks were so nice! A couple of them let me take their pictures, and, again, all smiles.
When we went to the Imperial City in Hue, which was very very cool, we happened to arrive at the same time as a group of monks on a field trip or something. They were a fun group, and I love that in all my photos that morning, there are glimpses of saffron robes here and there. I think I want to be a monk. They can drink beer, I saw it.
The Food
I am testing the limits of my intestinal fortitude. Every meal involves fish. And beer. Even breakfast. I politely decline beer before 11am. We eat maybe 4 times a day and I’m just getting good at it. The trick is, stop eating before I am done. Regardless of whether I do or not, someone will throw food into my bowl, and they are quick about it. So lots of fish. Lots of pork. Lots of beer. One night, I tried some frog legs. You were right, Stefan: if it looks like chicken and tastes like chicken, it is definitely NOT chicken. Oh, but the chicken here is really different. I’ve seen them running around, very long legged compared to the big american ones. It’s really chewy. Austyn, there are a lot of vegetarians here, including my aunt, who is the resident old lady of the alley where we live. And lots of people don’t eat meat on the 1st and 15th day of the lunar cycle (new moon and full moon). But I am aching for a good vegetarian meal. And Tia, you would have died about 5 times so far. I keep getting surprise peanuts.
The Noise
I can’t even explain the noise, except to say that it is constant and loud. You should see me right now, there is a little kid SQUEALING playing a game next to me and a scrap metal truck about 10 feet away, with pieces from a construction site being tossed in. No doors, of course. It is really distracting, I won’t bother spell checking this but I have a feeling I am barely forming complete sentences. Even when it is supposed to be quiet, it isn’t. I noticed it my first night in Saigon, I slept in the living room and there was absolutely no effort made for darkness or quiet for those of us who turned in early. My uncle has a habit of turning on his little transistor radio when he is trying to sleep, which I guess helps him drown out the noise but doesn’t do much for me. Oh, and scooters are stored right in the house, meaning they actually drive them through the front door. Okay, this kid screaming is driving me crazy, it is a high-pitched piercing scream like snakes are eating him.
In DaNang, we (me, mom, Uncle) are sleeping in the family shrine, which is not as peaceful as it sounds. The kids drumming, the scooters, the honking… at least there is a mattress.
I spent the last 2 nights in the country, in my mom’s village. It was relatively quiet, but still with the loud radio and TV! The village was nice but there wasn’t a lot for me to do besides read my book, “The Way the Crow Flies” courtesy of Denise. So now this book as been on 3 continents, Denise!
The village was really rural. I loved the house where we stayed, with some old people who are related to me, I assume. They were great. But when we went into the village, I felt more Stranger in a Strange Land than I ever had before. It was partially disconcerting because people would openly stare at me and if I smiled, they would just stare and not smile back, which is not really a comforting feeling at all. But the people I met were all very nice. We had a huge storm the first night, lost power early in the morning and through until noon, but it was fine because these old folks cooked on a wood fire! For real! I spent most of my time watching the puppy chase the kitten chase the chickens. Oh, and they had a well out front and they used a helmet to scoop the water, which is also one of my favorite photos.
“Too Many Dead People”
Half the time, me and mom are just going from visit to visit, from meal to meal. On our first whole day in DaNang, we went to my cousin’s husband’s family memorial dinner for his mom. In Viet Nam, it is customary to have a big feast in the name of the dead. We’ve done it for years for my mom’s parents, though it was always just my parents and brothers and me. Here, it’s a big deal with all your family and friends and neighbors. Me and mom were like the honored guests, too, which was strange. They sat me next to a very nice man who spoke excellent english. He was an advisor to the americans in the war, and we talked a lot about that. He was extremely sweet but I could tell he was bitter about having been denied citizenship to the US. He was interviewed and evidently, since he’d only spent 2 years in prison, he didn’t qualify. It takes 3 years, did you know that? I didn’t. He said it seemed like the woman interviewing him didn’t believe him about some of his experiences. Poor guy. He would really like to come to the US to study for a few months and I told him to contact me if he did.
The next day we went to Hoi An, which I loved. Unfortunately, we only spent one morning there taking a walking tour of the historic district. I really liked our guide, and I took a picture with him as “colleagues”. No one really knows what a naturalist is here, so I just tell people I am a tour guide. Then we had to head back to DaNang for another memorial, this one for my aunt. I said something to my mom about all these memorial dinners and she said “yeah, too many dead people” and we just cracked up.
Okay, that was a quick hour. I promise to answer some emails tomorrow.
Still, I want you to send me a shout out next week. Play me mushaboom or something like that. 
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