ChiKongNamIpore Part 2 (Vietnam)

ChiKongNamIpore Part 2 (Vietnam)

Soon after sailing away Honk Kong, I realized where we were heading next, Vietnam.  This moment of realization first triggered feelings of excitement beyond belief, but was quickly followed by a deep terror.  To fully understand the spectrum of these feelings, and how they could both occur so close together and as a result of the same thought, we need to look back about 7 years:

            I was first introduced to Pho by my sister soon after moving to San Francisco.  Soon after moving there she took me to a tiny whole in the in wall restaurant with a line around the corner called The Citrus Club.  While the exact ethnicity of the origin of the Citrus Club’s cuisine is up for debate, it gave me my first glimpse in to Asian noodle soups outside of your standard Chinese take out won ton.  Over time I had come to trust the Citrus Club, and knew that no matter how late I stayed out, or how many shots of Fernet I had taken the evening before, The citrus Club, was always there for me on Sundays.  It was there to sooth my soul, and prepare me for the week ahead.   No matter how lazy or awful I was feeling, hot soothing noodly deliciousness was just a phone call away.  The Citrus Club was my heating blanket that every San Franciscan needs to keep the chill away.  About a year and a half later I moved to Russian Hill, and, to my dismay, outside of the delivery radius of the Citrus Club.   Enter Aux DeLice.  Aux DeLice was a Vietnamese restaurant a block away from my new apartment.  Although the Citrus Club will always have a warm place in my heart, my first real love affair with Vietnamese food will always be with Aux DeLice.  While this love story between Vietnamese food and me was just starting to blossom, so to was that of me and Gabby.  As Gabby and I became closer, Sunday Evenings with Pho became a tradition.  We may have attempted (pretended) to be productive all day, but when the sun started setting, we knew it meant one thing.  Ok, actually two things.  1: it was time to call in our standard order to Aux Delice (1 large chicken Pho, one order of Fresh Spring Rolls w/ extra peanut and fish sauce, and depending how hung over we were, one crispy noodle dish, and one 2 liter of diet Ginger ale).  2: Cue up the week’s DVR’d episode of Manswers.  If you don’t know what Manswers is (I suspect no one reading this except my roommates in San Francisco know) I highly recommend youtube’ing it, then going ahead and Judge us all you want.  It is the most worthless, shameful and ridiculous TV show to ever go one the air, and on Sundays, it was just what the doctor ordered. Sadly, Manswers has long since gone off the air, but Sundays with Pho has lived on.  We brought this tradition with us to Chicago when we moved, and still never go more than a couple of weeks without it. When Gabby applied for the spring 2015 Semester at Sea Voyage last year, there was no doubt about it, Vietnam was the port that we were both most excited about.    We had such a warm and comforting association with Vietnam, we simply couldn’t wait to get there. 

Now, as we pulled out of Hong Kong, I was ecstatic that the port we were most excited about was right in front of us, but then, as quickly as the excitement rushed in, the realization that in less than a week the port that we had been most excited about would be behind us, and then what…   it was a scary proposition, and one that I’m still trying to figure out.            

            Before stepping foot on Vietnam soil, I learned a very very important lesson:  Most people do NOT have that warm comforting association with Vietnam.   When most people hear Vietnam, they hear helicopters approaching in the distance, they hear gunfire, they hear bombs, they hear friends dying, protests and rebellion.  This was going to be a very different port experience than either one of us had expected.

 My mother and her friend Marilyn were still with us on the voyage, and we had, before leaving, decided to sign up for the Semester at sea program that would take us to northern Vietnam to see Hanoi and Ha Long bay.  Hanoi, the current capital of Vietnam, and Ha Long Bay, a beautiful bay with limestone karsts emerging from stunning blue waters (Google it, trust me, its worth it).  It sounded like an educational and enjoyable beachy trip.  We would eat some good food, see some historical sights, and relax on a leisurely cruise around the Ha Long Bay.  Sadly, that is not what happened.  After spending the first couple of days in Ho Chi Mihn City (Formerly Saigon, the stronghold of the south during the Vietnam way), a city we all came to love, where we ate amazing food, learned to cooks some Vietnamese classics, and Gabby and my mother shared quite a moment while getting full body (I mean FULL BODY) coffee scrubs before receiving Vietnamese massages, we packed our bags and were excited to head north. 

While Vietnam may have been unified under one flag after the war, a staggering difference in ideals and attitude was palpable between the north and the south.  Southern Vietnam was sunny, hot, chaotic, and exciting.  I was able to recognize most items on a menu, and could be fairly certain that those I didn’t recognize would still be delicious.  The south was the Vietnam I had expected, the Vietnam I could not wait to get to; the north on the other hand, was something I was not prepared for.  North Vietnam felt communistic.  I’ve been trying for months to come up with another way to describe it because, well: A. Vietnam is communistic B.  Describing something as communistic doesn’t really describe anything beyond the ruling political party.  But that’s all I can come up with.  Northern Vietnam felt like what I grew up imagining a communist country would feel like.  It may have been the stark difference in the weather, or just a bad feeling I got  from our tour guide, but the North just felt different.  While the south was sunny, hot, and clear, the north was grey, on top of grey on top of grey.  Sometimes it rained, sometimes it was foggy, but every minute of our time spent in the north was grey.  It made sense, it just kind of fit.  The food, grey, the architecture, grey, the overall feeling was just kind of grey.  In addition to the grey weather, our guide for the 3 days had what I can only describe as a ‘grey’ point of view.  She grew up in northern Vietnam, her father fought for the Viet Cong, and outside of her frequent trips to Ha Long bay with tourists, she had never traveled more than an hour from Hanoi, a Viet Cong stronghold during the war.  As the saying goes, the victors write the history books, and well, we can all agree that the history books she learned from were far different than the ones from which I was taught. This was my first real exposure to government sanctioned (and commissioned) revisionism, and it just didn’t feel good. 

The remainder of our trip in northern Vietnam was much of the same.  We visited the Hanoi Hilton (though nicknamed after the hotel chain, it is in fact one of the most brutal POW prisons of modern warfare), fed local cuisine that could be described as ‘ok’ at best, and we were even paraded in front of Ho Chi Mihn’s perfectly preserved body in his mausoleum.  Again, not exactly the educational and enjoyable beachy trip we thought we had signed up for.  It was a relief to get back to southern Vietnam. 

Ironically our last night in Vietnam was a Sunday, and so, the four of us sat down for one last bowl of pho, and suddenly, that warm comforting feeling was back.  Vietnam may have a violent and spotted past, but to me, the country will always elicit a feeling of comfort and warmth.  

ChiKongNamIpore! Part I

          Asia, I think we just did Asia.  I apologize for the long lack of entries/entertainment.  We’ve been a bit busy.  While it feels like a lifetime ago that Gabby wrote about her lovely time on board without me, while sailing from Shanghai to Hong Kong, I now, with a day to catch my breadth, can recognize that in reality in was only a few weeks ago, like, less than a haircut ago, maybe one grocery shopping ago for some of you (a grocery store is that big place that sells all of those individual foods, that you quickly walk by one your way to the prepared food section every night (you know who you are)).  For us, it was 4 countries, 9 days at sea, 8 days of work, 2 visitors, and nearly 1200 nautical miles ago.  Oh yah, and 1 hair cut (for me) ago.
 

          Last I wrote, we were approaching Chinese waters and I was feverishly posting before big bad China blocked my ability to do so. Before each port we receive two short(ish) mandatory lectures, one regarding the culture of the port country, what to expect when we get on shore, what might surprise us, upset us, or things to look out for.  The second lecture discusses the logistics of each port for the ship, where it will be docking, how embarkation/immigration will work, emergency numbers etc…, you know, the stuff that goes in one ear and immediately out the other.  During this section of the lecture for china however one slide caught my attention.  The logos of facebook, Google, and instagram flew onto the screen like only a Power Point presentation transition can provide, then BAM, a girls gone wild style black box with the word ‘Censored’ slammed down on top of the logos.  I have to admit, this was the first time on the entire voyage that a true sense of vulnerability rushed over me.  It occurred to me that if I were to get myself into trouble in China, not only could I not Google maps my way out of it, but for the first time I would be operating under the rule of a government that still completely controlled the flow of knowledge, has little regard for individual or human rights, and frankly, could make me disappear without a second thought or question by a bystander.  It was heavy. It’s truly mind blowing when you think about it.  The largest economy on earth operates largely without access to Google.  Let me reiterate, while in China you cannot use Google, you cannot use Google maps, you cannot use Google mail (i.e. Gmail), you cannot use Google chat, chrome, blogger, Google play, you cannot even access Wikipedia.  China has their own closed version of Wikipedia, Wikichina, and well, let’s just say you get zero results when searching Tiananmen Square 1989.  While in China, we were on our own, with just ‘BING’ and ‘apple maps’ to guide us.  We were doomed.    

After accepting the fact that I would not be able to update my facebook status, or check my Gmail for nearly a week, I was faced with another slide, this one looking even more worrisome.  Air Quality Index, it proclaimed at the top of the slide.  Below the title was a link to website that measured the AQI for the day, with the slogan “Know before you go”.  Americans have probably never heard of, nor would we ever need to know the AQI domestically.  We complain about the ‘smog’ that settles over L.A. or the industrial air pollutants created in Gary, Indiana, but this requires some prospective:  If the AQI reached a level of 75 in the United States, the government will  ‘advise sensitive groups, such as the elderly, children, and those with respiratory or cardiovascular problems to avoid outdoor exertion’, if it creeps up to 90, they  ‘may invoke emergency plans that allow them to order major emitters (such as coal burning industries) to curtail emissions until the hazardous conditions abate’. Our first day in Shanghai the AQI was 243.  Not a typo, two hundred and forty-three.  While not the official position of the U.S. Government, I firmly believe that if the AQI reached 243 in L.A. the government would simply say ‘Leave’.

        Stepping off the Ship in China, I was pretty sure that both the air and the water were going to poison me. Fortunately, to protect me from all things evil, my mother was there, in China, to protect me.

          While Gabby was living it up on the MV Explorer, I was anxiously awaiting our (Mine, My Mom’s, And her friend Marilyn’s) flight from Shanghai to Hong Kong.  I have to be honest, I was a bit apprehensive about domestic air travel in china,  but was pleasantly surprised when we arrived at a relatively modern airport terminal.  We patiently waited for our flight to board, then per standard U.S. aviation, we boarded about 25 minutes before our flight (we later learned that this was NOT standard practice across Asia, see Blog entry about Myanmar for more details), and, to my delight, the plane was fine.  It certainly wasn’t ‘Virgin America’ fine, but yah know, the, ‘oh, this is one of their old planes’ Southwest fine.

          On the topic of having my mother with me, I pretty much had only 2 rules while growing up: don’t run on pool decks, and don’t eat tuna fish sandwiches on airplanes.  I must admit, I have broken each of these rules a number of times in my life.  The former, while organizing a game called “running on pool decks” during my stint as a  camp counselor, the latter when a I would inevitably be running late for a flight at SFO, the only place open before my incredibly cheap student price early early morning or late late evening  flight was Klein’s Deli, and all they had left was Tuna salad.  To Gabby’s and my mother’s vicarious dismay I would happily chomp away at my tuna salad sandwich while disgusting all of those unfortunate passengers sitting within 4 rows of me.   Why was this quick Golenberg family lesson relevant you ask?  Well, there was no running on pool decks on board this flight, but 42 minutes into our flight from Shanghai to Hong Kong, Golenberg Rule number 2 was violated, and violated hard.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that although this flight was only about an hour and 45 minutes long, they were coming around with meal service.    Then, I remembered I was in China, and my pleasant surprise quickly turned to horror as the flight attendant said “ would you like the fish or the eel”.  There is no experience quite like being stuck in a 1990’s flying metal tube suddenly inundated with  the stench of 227 ‘fish or eels’.  I was ready for my time in China to come to end and about an hour and five minutes later it would, sort of.

Hong Kong:  Just the right amount of Asia               

Upon stepping off the fish and eel tube, we were greeted by a sight that had become a symbol of safety, freedom, and welcoming.  This sight,  until January had held little significance in my life.  A water fountain, a drinking fountain, a bubbler, that thing that all kids campaigned would flow with soda if they were president of their class in elementary school, whatever you want to call it, the welcoming sight  of a water fountain meant we were safe.  The air was cleaner, the water was safe to brush your teeth with, shower in, and even, in a pinch, drink!  We were no longer in China, sort of. 

         Although the Chinese government currently has power over Hong Kong, Hong Kong has their own currency, their own political leaders, their own elections, and even drive on the opposite side of the road than Mainland China.  The similarities are there, but are minute.  Hong Kong is a modern city with striking high-rises built into an absolutely stunning lush mountainscape.  I can truly say it looks like no other place on earth, well maybe Rio, it kind of looks a lot like Rio, but other than that, no other place on earth.     

          While we were waiting for Gabby’s lavish vacation on board the MV Explorer to come to an end, my mom, Marilyn and myself went on a wonderful city tour, took in an amazing view of the city from atop the highest peak, and had a truly incredible seafood meal sitting on plastic stools in the middle of a bustling night market.  For every bad feeling I had had in my gut (not literally, I am one of the few on board who had still not gotten truly sick (knocking on wood)) about my time in Shanghai, I felt the exact opposite in Hong Kong.  I loved the geography, I loved the topography I loved the biology (there were Flamingos in a creek right across from our hotel), and I loved just about any other ‘ology’ you could come up with.  I loved Hong Kong.  It was easy to navigate, had an immaculate and expansive public transportation system, and well, thanks to a long (non-consensual) visit by the UK, nearly everything was written in English.  I was really excited for Gabby to get to Hong Kong, I had a feeling she would love it as much as I did (Spoiler alert, She did!).

          Once Gabby arrived in Hong Kong we packed as much into the quick 24 hours as we could, we walked around the main park (where the Flamingos were), ate some dinner, watched some E-news in my mom’s hotel room (Bobbi Christina just got out of rehab, like OMG!!!), then went back to the night market to haggle on items we in no way needed.  The following morning my mom and Marilyn were boarding the ship.  Ready or not Semester at Sea, here comes Rochelle.  After Getting the ladies on board, we signed up for our first SAS field program (i.e. an excursion organized by the ship).   During our last day in Hong Kong we would be learning Tai Chi, participating in a traditional tea ceremony, and lastly chowing down on a local favorite, Dim Sum.   Gabby was good at Tai Chi, me, I was better at Dim Sum. 

As I may have mentioned in an earlier post (or I may not have, I don’t really remember what I’ve actually written down, my favorite experiences thus far on Semester at Sea have been waking up super early to see the ship sail into each port.  Hawaii we saw whales and Dolphins as the sun popped over the horizon, Japan was foggy and gray, but we hadn’t seen land in 12 days, so it was spectacular regardless of the weather,  docking directly beneath the Oriental Pearl in Shanghai amongst the modern monstrosity that is Pudong is something that I will never forget.  Boarding the ship our last day in Hong Kong, I had no idea that our sail away was about blow all of those sail in’s out of the water.    

          Many of you may not know (I sure didn’t until the day before sailing into Hong Kong), that Hong Kong has become famous for a light, laser, and music spectacle projected from its futuristic skyline.  We were told before docking that this show would happen each night at 8 p.m. so, night 1 in Hong Kong I made a point to position my self (at an outdoor bar of course) with my Mom and Marilyn at a great vantage point for the spectacle.   8 p.m. came and went, and we saw pretty much nothing.  There were some lights moving around on buildings, but nothing like I had expected.  At about 8:07, after giving up on the show, a saw one single laser project from top of one building, then about 3 minutes later a second.  A light and laser show, maybe??  A spectacle, definitely not.  I had made such a point to be at a good viewing point that evening, that I was a bit upset, and frankly a bit embarrassed.  Night number 2, same thing.  I thought maybe last night something had gone wrong.  8 p.m. came and went, with only a laser or two to show for it.  Spectacle, not even close.  By night 3, our sail out night, I had given up on the spectacle all together.  We were back on board our home, the MV explorer, eating dinner, catching up with friends about their time in China/Hong Kong whom we hadn’t seen in a week, our thoughts already moved on to our next port, we felt the engines of the ship engage, and the thrusters start to push us away from the dock when suddenly music started to blare from across the harbor.  Within a matter of seconds every building in the Honk Kong skyline came to life, some with intricate holiday lights (it was the week before Chinese new years), some had giant 10 story Koi fish swimming in a digital pond, then lasers came out of what seemed like hundreds of buildings simultaneously.  I don’t know what had gone wrong the two previous nights, but this was the spectacle I had been waiting for.  Here we were, sailing off into the South China Sea, my mother to my left, my wife and new friends to my right, a light, laser, and music spectacular going on all around us.  I would say life is good, but I don’t know if that really captures the moment.  More appropriately, I had to ask my self, does it get much better than this??