fine, fine, fine

After being harassed numerous times by our adoring fans, I will post a quick entry... I don't want to lose all of our faithful readers.

It is now Tet, or Lunar New Year, in Vietnam. Tet is a time for family, eating, and for small orange trees. We didn't buy our own tree, but I got to see lots of them riding on the back of motorcycles through Hanoi. Each time I saw one it made me happy, as it reminds me of something out of Dr. Seuss. Of course we have had lots of food, and Katie got to see her dad, so I guess we got the whole Tet thing covered.

We are down in Siagon right now. It is quite different from Hanoi. No lakes, lots of new shiny buildings, better food, lots of tourists, much hotter and a lot less of the post-colonial charm. Hanoi has big government while Saigon has big business. It is hard to say which I prefer, but for now, Hanoi is home, and I'm ok with that. Though it is nice to get away from my incredibly trying life and go on vacation.

We just went to the beach at Mui Ne (a nice place, but it is hard to be too impressed with any beach after Thailand), and Katie laid out with utter determination. While she was striving to become a negress again, I was just shooting for lobster.

Mom and Dad--if you are reading this, Happy Birthday!

Liz, I know you work about 7 times more than I do, but I am only one man. I will try to post some observations and funny anecdotes about Hanoi soon, but as this is a travel blog, it may have to wait until we are on the move again.

Love to all y'all.

I'm not angry, I'm just Hanoi-ed

I didn’t intend to stay in Hanoi. In fact, I would have never entered this enemy territory if it hadn’t been for my friend Hai, and his generous offerings to crash on his living room sofa.

For the first seven days and seven nights in Hanoi, Ben and I slept, lounged, left empty pistachio shells on the floor, and otherwise made ourselves at home in Hai and his British roommate, Ben (aka UK Ben’s) living room. We rarely left the house. We would wake up and watch Hai and Ben leave for work in button down shirts and dress (no pleats) pants. We would still be lying on the sofa as we greeted Hai and Ben return from work. We would (still) be lying on the sofa (and still in our pajamas) as various visitors passed through the house. One morning, around noon, Hai’s friend Patrick arrived and we convinced him to spend the entire day lying on the sofas with us. We listened to music and talked about a number of pressing matters, including current events, favorite juice flavors, Israelis, and top Disney cartoons. Patrick sang songs from Aladdin and The Lion King, which, he claims is the best Disney cartoon ever made. I told him it was Aladdin hands down. Ben stared at us in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

Among all the expats that we’ve met in Hanoi, Ben and I have discovered that Patrick works the least. He teaches English to full grown adults five hours a week. When he’s not hard at work (for five hours a week) he is either complaining about how stressful his (five hour a week) job is, or he is chasing flies and mosquitoes with his electric fly swatter. The look on Patrick’s face when he watches a fly being electrocuted on the current-filled wires of his swatter is disturbingly… priceless.

Since our arrival, Ben and I have spent the majority of our time with Viet Kieu. Now, now, gentle reader, please don’t fret. Despite the strange, foreign-sounding name, Viet Kieu is not one of those limb-destroying diseases that resulted from Agent Orange being sprayed throughout the nation’s natural landscape and small, unassuming villages. Viet Kieu is not the name for all the communist officials roaming Hanoi. The ones that still wear military fatigues from head to toe, including green hard hats and carrying the longest, most intimidating AK47s I’ve ever seen. No, Viet Kieu is a term for people like me. The ones that were raised listening to story after story about the good life back in Viet Nam from an overly nostalgic parent. We’re the ones that celebrated Tet in our cold Minnesotan living rooms, listening to the sound of firecrackers recorded on a cassette tape. We watched as our parents would take naps after lunch, or look at disgust at the amount of cheese sprinkled on top of their complementary salad from Red Lobster.

And much to our parents’ horror, we’ve returned to Vietnam. In droves. Ben and I have met Viet Kieu Fulbright scholars, Viet Kieu English teachers, Viet Kieu journalists, Viet Kieu undergraduate students, and Viet Kieu vagabonds (ahem, ahem). It’s been an enlightening experience. From the moment that we’ve arrived to Hanoi, Ben and I have felt like we’ve been adopted into a large extended Viet Kieu-y family. And I guess that makes Ben the white adopted son. But that’s okay. We don’t let a day go by where we don’t remind him that he’s adopted.

Living like Paris

Dearest faithful readers, I apologize for the great, great delay. I wish that I could say that the internet has yet to hit Malaysia, but the only excuse I can come up with for Katie and myself is gluttony and extreme mall-rat tendencies. I hope y'all didn't give up on us.

Well, I know all of you have been waiting with bated breath for me to confirm the rumors, and I am happy to say that, yes, Malaysia truly is Asia (Leona--after searching every t-shirt stand in the country, I finally found one with my favorite country slogan at the airport on the way out. yay!). The weather wasn't the best, a downside of visiting during monsoon season, and we didn't get to visit the supposedly stunning beaches on the east coast, but we were able to get a good taste of the country. Literally.

After a rather difficult journey south and a welcome goodbye to Thailand, we headed off to the duty free island of Langkawi (the whole place feels kind of like an airport). It is rumored to be quite beautiful, but it was raining and we checked into a gross "motel." The next day we were going to move to a different guesthouse run by an Iranian guy and his crying Japanese wife, but somehow we ended up on a boat headed further south to Georgetown on the island of Penang. I am still not sure how that happened, but we stand behind our decision. Georgetown is the most beautiful city I have seen in Asia. The colonial (Georgian?) architecture still stands today, and it is juxtaposed nicely with mosques and Chinese and Indian temples. Malaysia is about a quarter Chinese, a tenth Indian, and the rest Malay. Malaysians are very proud of being a multicultural society, which I think is deserved. They are friendly, helpful and almost everyone speaks nearly fluent English; some folks may have been a little too chatty and helpful--such as a tri-shaw driver we asked for directions who went into a speech about the history of Malaysia and all the local customs.

Well, we may have hit Malaysia at the wrong time in terms of weather, but it was a cool time for holidays. We were there for Ramadan and the Indian festival Deepvali. Ramadan wasn't so interactive for us, but it was interesting to be in a restaurant or food court when the sun went down. Everyone got their food (usually from amazing looking buffets) and sat down with it in front of them, just looking at it until the exact second when everyone was allowed to eat. While all the Muslims were fasting, it seems as if all the Indians were eating. Deepvali is known as the festival of lights. I am not quite sure what it is all about, but we enjoyed all the food and shopping.

After Georgetown we ventured down to Pangkor, and nice island where we had decent weather and got to see monkeys playing on the beach. The place was kind of dead, but it we had a good couple of days there before heading further south to Kuala Lumpur.

Somehow we got stuck in KL. Let's just say that on our best days Katie and I are not operating with much of a plan. Maybe it was all the malls, or the Chinese vegetarian restaurants (with great "pork" buns, buffets, beverages, and dorky helpful waitresses), or the friendliness of Malaysians, or the bakeries on every corner that Katie made me walk through "just to look," but somehow we spent seven nights there. It certainly was not our guesthouse, which looked as if it were decorated by a schizophrenic 12 year old girl, with pictures from magazines covering the walls. Turns out it was done by a middle aged man. Well, the place had bed bugs, and possibly more annoying, two little boys sleeping next door, which was closer than you may think since the walls did not reach the ceiling. The mother just let them run around the strange guesthouse fighting. This was possibly more difficult for Katie as she may have felt as if she were looking into a crystal ball. My favorite moment was when she screamed, "Enough!" at the little shits. Well, we occupied about 5 days with malls and eating when we finally took a look in the mirror and realized that we had to get out. While Malaysians may be some of the most friendly folks in Southeast Asia, as a group they are not the most attractive. I blame the food. It is just too good. Well, we were starting to lose our striking good looks so we made plans to leave. Things did not go so well with us at various embassies--Vietnam was closed for the next week and the lady at the US one told Katie that her passport was too busted to get extra pages. We also failed for the second day in a row to make it up to the bridge connecting the Petronas towers. We were feeling sad and dejected, went and booked tickets back through Bangkok to get visas when I had an amazing realization. Earlier in the week we were feeling somewhat guilty about not seeing anything of "cultural value" (though one could argue that Topshop does have it), so after a day of shopping and yes, eating, we decided to race to the national museum before it closed. Getting there required walking though the basement parking garage of the Hilton and Le Meridian and then crossing two interstates (a serious flaw in city planning). Katie and I made some joke about how if we were Paris we would be staying there, swimming in the pool, which we could barely make out by the palm trees way up in the air, sipping on girly drinks instead of wandering around like homeless people. So, back to our dirty sadness, while we were feeling gross and bad for ourselves I thought, 'I bet my Dad has hotel points.' One phone call and a trip to an internet cafe later and the next morning a very youthful looking John Chandler and his partner in crime dragged their sweaty selves to the Hilton. Sorry Paris, but my image of Hiltons at home is that they are a pretty middling bunch, but this place was amazing. We walked into our room and started squealing like pigs, running around admiring the modern Asian styling, vast clean white bed, 42" plasma TV, huge bathtub, waterfall-like shower, view of KL, and all the little services offered by the hotel. Unfortunately they only provided us with one terry cloth robe, so Katie had to push the magic button (not a joke) to ask them to bring another one up. She also requested a complementary goldfish named Angie (she was the perfect match for us--she didn't move around too much and defecated constantly). The two nights in the Hilton hit the spot. We worked out in the gym, swam in the second longest pool in Malaysia, and bathed three to four times a day. It was a great way to cap off our Malaysian experience. Thanks Dad! I will certainly have to go back for the food, people and beaches I have seen on the commercials but didn't get to visit.

We flew to Bangkok polished clean, took care of some business, ate some great Korean and Japanese food, and flew to Hanoi two days ago....

pic tures

so, i am messing around with how to post photos, not so sure how to do it best, particularly when working with computers in internet cafes. anyway, above should be two photos from phuket vegearian festival of people with various object through their tongue/face. if these don't work out, try to find my pictures on flickr.com 'cause i know that works and there are a few other entertaining photos there anyway...

us in our vegetarian festival whites, originally uploaded by ben chandler.

a close one....

So, yesterday I was waiting in Krabi Town for KatieQ to make it across the country. I was kinda stiff from all my traveling (watching a man crammed next to me on our bus cleaning his long, long finger nails), and I decided that I could use a Thai massage. Since the painful experience at Katie's school, I have come to appreciate them more, particularly in touristy areas where they are not so violent. Anyway, I wandered around for a bit and found a place that looked well lit and clean. I get escorted in and the lady assigned to me takes me upstairs. She is probably thirty-something, she speaks very little English, but is chubby and jolly. It starts normally enough, she asks me how old I am, I try to answer in Thai, which seemed to give her the false impression that I am fluent. The first clue that something is off is that, unlike other massages I have had, she keeps making eye contact with me while she is rubbing and poking. Then she asks if I have a girlfriend, and I stupidly tell her the truth. In Thai massage there is lots of leg kneading, and a fair amount in the upper-inner thigh, but this lady seems to be visiting that area more than I am used to. She says, "Do you like oil massage?"
I am not really uneasy yet, and though I do enjoy it, I do not want it right then and her english isn't so great, so I just say "no." More rubbing, more looking, some random Thai I do not understand. Crazy giggling. Then she says, "Do you like special massage?"
As this happens she pokes me in quite a personal area. I gasp, give an uncomfortable laugh, and say no thanks. She gives her crazy giggle, says some stuff in Thai and keeps massaging (not there!). I laugh to myself about the ridiculousness of the situation and wonder how I ended up in a brothel, but the massage is actually pretty good and I decide to stick it out and the massage goes on in a rather normal way. I breathe a sigh of relief and decide that I have dodged an unsavory and uncomfortable situation.
Well, I was wrong. She was kneading out some knot and I made a sound like it hurt, and she asked, "It hurt?"
I say yes, and she touches me there again and asks, "It hurt?"
I had to swat her hand away. She laughs and speaks to me in her fat Thai baby talk voice. Thank god it was time for me to roll over, but unfortunately I still wasn't safe. I got poked two more times, and then cupped once at the end. Given her surprise, I must have been one of the first people to turn down the special.
The weirdest part is that, besides the sexual assault and stress involved in swatting her hand away, it was one of the better massages I have gotten in Thailand. I guess that is why I didn't run. Also, she sometimes sounded as if she were half-joking and anyway, I am not such a confrontational character.
I returned back to the guesthouse and decided to read some of Disgrace, an entertaining novel I am engrossed in right now, in order to try to block out an entertaining but somewhat traumatic experience. Minutes later I encountered this quote, which made me feel better about myself. "That is what whores are for, after all: to put up with the ecstasies of the unlovely."
Hopefully I still ain't unlovely.

au revior

Sadly, now we are two(ish--Katie and I still have to figure out how to meet up). Last night we barely managed to get "butt rash" on her flight, and as of this writing, nearly 16 hours later, she is nearing in on New York. Though Katie may be prone to exaggeration (such as me vomiting in the ocean--it was just a little bit), I think she was right on about our time as a group of three. It was lots of fun. I am sure we inspired some speculation: Were we a frighteningly similar looking couple with our prostitute? A honeymooning couple with a lesbian sister in tow?

Well, it was a great month. I will miss you Liz. I hope that you realize that hanging out on a beach is much more fun than looking for a job in New York and that you decide to get on the next 17 hour flight. We did good. Got culture out of the way right off the bat with Angkor Wat and thousands of photos impersonating Angelina, then spent weeks rotting away on beautiful beaches. I was also quite impressed with the sheer range of beaches we wallowed on. The small, perfect beach at Ao Leuk in Koh Tao, its stunning beauty got almost boring after a few days. Then Tanote, with Disneyesque rocks and exploding sea cucumbers. After that, Krabi and the dizzying, dramatic limestone cliffs and cannon balls in the pool every day. Followed by Phuket; I now understand why it is such a major tourist destination. Though the only downside was being back in areas with rotund white guys and their Thai "companions." I was concerned that Katie was going to shoot one girl in particular--she was probably about 20, but she acted liked a cracked out 7 year old. I'm glad we left the AK-47 In Rai Lay.

The Phuket vegetarian festival was awesome. It is a Chinese-Thai Buddhist celebration in which everyone dresses in all white and abstains from meat, alcohol, and sex (and for the ladies, menstruation and pregnancy), which is combined with acts of self-mortification. People work themselves up into a religious frenzy and then walk across hot coals, climb ladders made of knives, or (my favorite) pierce their cheek and tongue with just about anything. It is quite gross. I managed to get out of bed at 8 to see the procession (sadly, Liz and Katie could not be roused from their slumber despite my beautiful singing). Well, there were men with several two foot long metal spikes through their cheeks, or my favorite, one guy with two big wooden parasols coming out of both sides of his face. There is nothing like the sight of blood to work up an appetite in a vegetarian. For a festival in which people are trying to attain ritual purity, there was quite a lot of gluttony, and while we left the fire and sharp objects to others, the three of us certainly took part in the eating. Now, there is always food around in Thailand, but the numbers of street stalls must have increased a hundred-fold. The best part was that I could eat anything and not have to try my baby-talk Thai to find out what was inside. So, basically it was three days of us, clad in white pajamas (Liz got a shirt that made her look like a Japanese peach), eating constantly. Heaven.

Unfortunately after Phuket, we had to leave the beach and come back up to Bangkok so Liz could fly out. We only had a few days, so there was some serious shopping to be done. I'm talking major cardio full workday shopping. Constant consumption. Shop, shop, shop, eat, shop, shop, eat, sleep, repeat. We filled up an enormous suitcase, and then at the airport had to suffer from the somewhat nauseating experience of the security guard examining each of our many, many purchases. Stop by Liz's apartment in Brooklyn for a souvenir--I think it is a first-come, first-served kinda deal.

Well, tomorrow I am headed back down south to try to meet up with Katie again so we can head to Malaysia, Truly Asia!

And Liz makes 3

We are three. For only one more day. It was fun having Ben's little sister visiting us in Thailand. She is nothing like Ben, but complements him nicely. While Ben is 'delicate,' (porcelain skin, prone to dizzy spells, constantly hitting his head on the low Thai entryways) Liz is tough. She tans easily. She has gangsta rap on her ipod. She wears white-rimmed aviator sunglasses in full seriousness.

Upon Liz's arrival, she noticed she had a strange blister that had developed on her lower right buttcheek. After consulting several Thai experts (including bungalow owners, our waiter, and any other miscellaneous Thais that we encountered on the beach) it was decided that Liz had developed a strange blister on her lower right buttcheek. A woman at our favorite restaurant smooshed some green twigs and leaves together with vodka, poured it into a plastic cup, and ordered Liz to smear the 'mojito' on her butt blister several times throughout the day. Never once did Liz complain about her new butt blister, only joking that she looked like a raging alcoholic who had to constantly carry her homemade 'mojito' wherever she went.

The majority of our time has been spent on the beach. Both on the Gulf of Thailand side, as well as the Andaman Sea side. I don't know where the time has gone. We spent a few nights in Ko Tao, nearly one week in Krabi, and we are ending our journey in Phuket before seeing Liz off in Bangkok.

Surprisingly, Phuket has been the best beach, with actual waves that can flip me upside down if I dive into the water feet first. I've only done it a few times, mostly because I tend to get far too much water up my nose and then barely have enought time to snort it out before the next wave comes.

This morning, the three of us ate a Scandanavian restaurant called 'The Little Mermaid,' where Ben was begging the waitress to please, please make the eggs in my big boy breakfast special into an omelette. The waitress was not pleased. She unsmilingly responded that the only egg options are scrambled, fried, or boiled. Liz convinced Ben to do scrambled, and he grudgingly agreed. It was already noon, I've eaten an unhealthy number of eggs on this trip, and so I decided to order a tuna sandwich. When it arrived, it resembled a grey mound of vomit. It was a massive pile of white mush, covered in so much mayonnaise that I had to bring forkfuls close to my eye in order to discern the tuna chunks from mayonnaise globs.

The three of us went to the beach after breakfast, swam in the waves, and were hollering and screaming and acting like our usual juvenile selves in the water. I watched as a giant wave approached Ben, and before I could warn him, it smacked him hard upside his head, sending him straight into the foamy abyss. Within seconds, his head emerged from the water and he started vomiting his 'Little Mermaid' scrambled eggs into the ocean. It was disgusting. He's doing better now though. And I've decided to avoid Scandie food entirely, except for those gummy Swedish fish. That's one food the Scandies do right.

Katie's To Do List

Katie's To Do List

1. Wake up before the Chandlers

2. Stare in fascination at this brother and sister duo that can sleep through all the bungalow construction going on outside our window

3. Contemplate turning on the t.v. to watch an animal documentary on the Discovery Channel.

4. Am reminded of the Koala documentary a few days earlier where I learned that Clamydia is a leading cause of death among the Koala community.

5. Think about owning a Koala as a pet.

6. Think about dressing Koala in hoodies and sweatbands.

7. Entertain the idea of naming pet Koala 'Waffles.'

8. Continue staring at sleeping Chandlers. Finally, in a loud, crackly voice, yell, "Wake-y Wake-y Eggs and Bake-y."

9. Watch as the Chandlers grumble and pinch their faces in agony.

10. Run into the bathroom before either of the Chandlers.

11. Brush teeth

12. Wash face

13. Wonder, when will I poo?

14. Pace around the room as Chandlers continue to moan and stare blankly at inanimate objects.

15. Watch as Ben stumbles into the bathroom

16. Within seconds, watch as Ben emerges from the bathroom rubbing his belly and looking satisfied.

17. Wear one of three outfits that will be my wardrobe for the next two and a half months.

18. Watch Chandlers putter around the room, mumbling about contact solution, the importance of daily sunblock application, and how hungry they are.

19. An hour later walk to nearby restaurant.

20. Try not to think of how dirty the plastic pages of the menu are as I read such familiar menu items as Muesli, pancakes, crunchy fried foods, and egg sandwich.

21. Contemplate ordering a pineapple pancake because I know it's good here and have not been very satisfied with previous breakfast foods here.

22. Remind myself that I don't like sweet foods in the morning and instead order eggs and toast.

23. Recieve a plate of runny eggs and toast that looks and feels like white cardboard.

24. Stare at the pineapple pancake Ben ordered in jealousy and beg him for another bite.

25. Ben says I can't have anymore and mumbles something about me being a fat piggy mooch.

26. Keep staring at his pancake until he finally relents and cuts me a small pancake sliver that barely contains any pineapple bits and feeds me baby airplane style.

27. I make goo goo sounds like a baby.

28. We laugh and then continue eating in silence.

29. Walk to the beach.

30. Get sweaty on the walk.

31. Begin complaining about the sweat dripping down my face.

32. Everyone pretends like they can't hear me.

33. Remind everyone again that I am sweating a lot.

34. I hear some mumbles of agreement.

35. Decide to stop talking for awhile.

36. Arrive to the beach.

37. Everyone yells 'stunning!' in unison and in a middle aged booming lady voice that is obnoixous, but suprisingly, still funny.

38. Run straght into the water.

39. Swim.

40. Lay in the surf like a beached whale.

41. Lay out in the sun.

42. Imagine if it is humanly possible for my skin to get any darker than it already is.

43. Stare down at my knees and realize that my legs look like a black woman's.

44. Repeat steps 38-43 for the rest of the afternoon.

45. Return to the hotel.

46. Agree that it is now time for some 'cannonball therapy.'

47. Run straight for the pool doing a cannonball.

48. Watch in amazement at how large Ben's cannonballs are.

49. Keep practicing my cannonballs until it feels like I have water in my brain.

50. Return to bungalow pruny and exhausted after spending a full workday on the beach.

51. Shower.

52. Eat dinner.

53. Begin nighttime leisure activities.

54. Repeat steps 1-54 for the next two and a half months, with some minor adjustments as needed.

to do list

1. wake up
2. eat
3. poo
4. beach
5. snack attack
6. beach
7. cannon balls
8. shower
9. eat
10. evening leisure activities
11. eat
12. sleep