doberman pizza. a baha'i (bahai, bahá'í) blog.

Day 12 in Vietnam. Those who’ve been following my aforementioned Twitter feed know that I’ve already started to take my first few steps into independent living, including borrowing a bicycle from one of the local Baha’is—which brings me into closer contact than ever before with that most omnipresent feature of Saigon/HCMC: traffic. Thanks perhaps to my maverick bike riding style (think Paperboy), I’ve managed to do pretty well for myself in the chaotic weave of motorbikes. The video game metaphor is actually quite apt, you know. If you’ve ever played one of those games where enemies are coming at you from all directions at the most ridiculous frequency and wondered who in their right minds would create such a difficult game, you might want to come ride a bike in Ho Chi Minh City, to realize that, in fact, there actually are such places in the real world. and to think that, until last year, there was no such thing as a helmet law in Vietnam…

Speaking of bikes, I biked down to the Baha’i Centre yesterday in order to make some calls—home internet got cut off for some reason, and my newfangled Vietnamese cell phone is on the blink (bad battery, I think). Once there, I cooled down for a few minutes and then made plans to meet Tahirih, my contact for the National Spiritual Assembly’s website, in about an hour to discuss things. Where? Well, why not District 1—downtown? Sure. Except that it appears that the trip from the Baha’i Centre to District 1 is about half an hour long on a motorbike (hence, even longer on a bicycle). Oops. After a little while’s worth of thinking, I ended up asking for a motorbike ride from Chi, one of the Baha’is at the centre, and managed to get there in time anyway. We met at a nice little French bistro—yup, French influence in Vietnam is still strong. Tahirih brought along her kids, who ordered pizza and ice cream and played with Chi while we talked web design and determined what had to be done in the next week or so, before I leave HCMC for Danang next week. After the meeting was done, we motorbiked back through considerably thicker traffic to reach the Baha’i Centre once again, and after taking a few more minutes to cool down, I biked back home on my little one-gear clinker, doing my paperboy schtick through a throng of motorbikes, cars, buses, carts, horses(!!), and just random confused people.

I think I love this place… but it’s a strange kind of love.

For those of who aren’t yet subscribed to my Twitter feed, here’s what you’ve been missing for the past week:

Apr. 1st

• AAAHHHHHH IT’S FREAKING HOT
• touched down in Saigon a couple of hours ago, everything seems to be ok so far. i’m off to bed in a sec. look for photos tomorrow.
• GOOD MORNING VIETNAM! ok, I know you all wanted me to say that, so now it’s out of the way. the roosters outside do help add a little colour
• i suppose i could pull an april fool’s prank of some sort but reality is just much cooler than jokes right now

Apr. 2nd

• the visit to KFC (Gà rán Kentucky) in Saigon was funny. rice? with gravy on it? wow. and yeah, I know, you’d think I’d go for phở first off.
• the noise here is amazing. from 7 AM to 10 PM it’s kids, roosters, motorcycles, street vendors, TVs, radios, pretty much anything
• reading and re-reading a Baha’i pioneering doc about culture shock; all the symptoms seem to apply. praying for serenity while i adjust.)

read more… »

Expand this post to see several videos of motorbiking and traffic in Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon). Vietnam positively swarms with motorbikes, and Ho Chi Minh City, particularly, is known as the world’s motorbike capital.

read more… »

Day 8 in Vietnam so far, and the initial shock of arrival has subsided. The first week has been a bit rough-and-tumble, but thanks to the efforts of my hosts, it’s been much, much smoother than it could have been—indeed, easier than I had hoped. Everyone is so gracious and friendly here. Host and national institute coordinator Quynh spent the first week helping me get settled in and see the city, giving me my first real taste of motorbike travel. The first few times riding a motorbike through the chaotic streets of Saigon was a little scary, but I feel like I’ve warmed up to it quite nicely now. The first week was full of visits to the local Baha’is, going to exotic (neighbourhood Vietnamese eateries) and less exotic (KFC, aka Gà Rán Kentucky—whatever you do, don’t compare Colonel Sanders to Ho Chi Minh) restaurants for lunch and dinner, having home-cooked Vietnamese breakfasts consisting of rice and—well, just about anything. I’m gradually starting to be able to walk on my two feet here. Although it’s definitely not yet “functional”, I’m starting to achieve a very basic command of the Vietnamese language—at least enough to be able to make basic needs known without getting beat up or slapped. Just this afternoon, I was able to secure a bicycle to get around on, thanks to the generosity of one of the local Baha’is. As well, again thanks to host Quynh’s effort, I now have a Vietnamese bank account with an ATM card, which I should be able to use anywhere in Vietnam (unlike the hoops to be jumped through/potential risks when using credit cards).

About a week into my stay here, it dawned on me that several of my cherished tools—phrasebook, guidebook, and so on—have been failing me somewhat. For example, my guidebook focuses lots of attention on Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon’s glamorous District 1, where most foreigners hang out, and many locals prefer to avoid because of the high prices. But it focuses almost no attention on the Tan Binh district—where I’m staying—which starts at about a 15-20 minute drive west from District 1. Even District 11, the home of the Baha’i Centre, just south of Tan Binh, is underrepresented. It dawned on me that these books were written for regular foreigners, those on business or simply pleasure-seekers on their way through Southeastern Asia—and that I was not one of those regular foreigners. I think I realized something was amiss when I saw the string of European and American tourists being promenaded throughout the streets outside HCMC’s famed Post Office building on pedal-powered rickshaws—cyclos—on an evening’s visit to District 1. I can’t really explain just what I felt as I watched them from the curb, besides the distinct feeling that I was not one of them. It was partly satisfying, I suppose, and partly spooky, as if I was standing beside myself, looking on quietly.

All that being said, I guess you could say it’s fairly obvious: I’m not your average traveller. Although I’m experiencing many of the same feelings as a regular traveller—disorientation, wonderment, anxiety, curiosity, excitement—regular travellers can’t always go to a faraway country and find people—like the Baha’is—who can welcome them with open arms, as if they were family. for the privilege of being here, in close contact with people, sharing the same space and eating the same food, I am so very grateful. for the chance to give back something to those who have welcomed me so warmly into their midst and into their hearts—be it a website or helping them practice a little bit of English—I am equally grateful.

oh vietnam, you strange, noisy, mesmerizing place, you. vietnam, with your choking heat and cooling rains, your bright and lively flowers, your swarms of motorbikes, your streets lined with shops that spill their innards onto the sidewalks, peppered with price tags. friends and acquaintances tell me you have stolen their hearts. will you steal mine just as easily?

my first impression of Vietnam was from the air while flying in: an unusually dark panorama creeping in beneath us, with ghostly strings of bluish light, sparsely blotched with the aggressive orange usual in Western cities. For the most part, fluorescent light rules here. Our plane rolled smoothly onto the tarmac at Tan Son Nhat Airport and into our gate; from the first moment stepping out of the plane, I could feel the heat—strangely like the oppressive heat that overtakes Ottawa on certain (rare) summer days. passing through immigration and customs was uncanny in its ease; I’d expected more random hassles—or, at least, I’d expected them to talk to me. I wheeled my luggage out into the humid night, and surprisingly enough, found my friend Quynh—who I had thought was in Da Nang—waiting there, along with her brother Nu. they shepherded me into a taxi, which carried us through the chaotic streets and gave me my first glimpse of the notorious Vietnamese traffic. arriving outside their neighbourhood, I unloaded my luggage as we made our way down a prohibitively narrow and winding street, past thin, tall apartments with bars on their windows and doors, past a shop where, even at this late hour, people who looked about my age were working on sewing machines, making t-shirts (I instinctively felt some “western guilt” here). Arriving at a set of locked gates, Quynh and brother quickly unlocked them and introduced me to my home for at least the next month: a three-story-tall (four stories if you count the door that leads onto the roof) apartment with a steep staircase, which was a minor struggle to manage with my one bulging suitcase.

the first night in Vietnam was quick—my plane landed at around 10:45 PM local time, and I ended up in bed a little past midnight—so I didn’t have the chance to see much. rest assured, though, that the next few days were a positive whirlwind. read more soon—just keep an eye on this blog.

how to wrap up such a wonderful stopover in the mere forty-five minutes I have left in the country? japan was lovely, filled with a quiet, dignified beauty, and set apart by an ethic of service that seems to define what it means to be japanese. no wonder ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, for whom service was the only goal and desire—so much so that he took service into His very name—prophecied that Japan would “turn ablaze” when the foundations of the Faith of Bahá’u'll´ were established there.

after arriving (and sleeping off a great deal of jet lag), I spent the next morning and afternoon with friendly and gracious hosts Lara and Eric on a picnic with the kids. several of their friends came too, and we all enjoyed an oddly cool day sitting beneath a dogwood tree eating onigiri. i should say that i no longer have any respect for the usual bento-box sushi sold in Ottawa after eating onigiri in Japan. after the picnic, Lara and I stopped by the Tokyo Baha’i Centre (unfortunately, not with enough time to linger inside) to join some of the local Baha’is on a trip to a devotional meeting. we shared prayers together, and spent some time talking about the life and growth of the Tokyo Baha’i community as well—the Tokyo Baha’is are in the midst of the first cycle of their intensive program of growth right now, so it’s an exciting time for them all. the day ended with us taking the train back home, stopping along the way to bring home some delicious ichigo daifuku.

the next day, after trying natto for the first (last?) time, I ventured out, on my own, to browse through Tokyo’s Akihabara district, known as a centre for electronics and anime- and manga-related shops. after a number of money-related mishaps (as in, not having any) I managed to get my hands on some yen and made a few modest purchases without breaking the bank at all. after even more clueless traveller-related mishaps (including erasing the balance on the Suica card I was carrying) I managed to make my way back to Lara and Eric’s place—where, oddly enough, no one was home. fortunately, I was able to grab their wireless connection and call them up using Skype to tell them where I was. I love Skype. I think when I return to Canada I’m going to cancel my home phone and just use Skype. anyway. the night ended with large amounts of sushi and smiling faces, and I went to bed a little early.

the last day went quite well too; after a more western-style breakfast of toast, sausage and (red!) eggs, we started the day with a devotional meeting with more Baha’i friends from various places around the Tokyo area. lots of children were present, so we said prayers for children. everyone sang a few prayers in Japanese, which I managed to record—I’ll post them online when I get the chance to clean up the audio files. afterwards, it was time for me to say goodbye to the family as they went to enjoy the day with another picnic. after almost missing my bus to the airport at Kichijoji station (ha ha more lame traveller screwups, although there was definitely a hint of divine intervention in this situation), I was on my way back to the airport for my flight to Saigon.

all in all, Japan is definitely a place I’d like to visit again—and not just for a few days.