Tokio Drift: 6月 2011

About two years ago, there was a time when we were all FOPs (fresh off the plane) to Tokyo, genuinely excited about So-kei-sens, so eager to make friends with anyone we ran into, and thrilled to go to all the themed college parties full of strangers praising nomihodai as the best invention ever. Shanon and I became friends in a context that is not far off from this establishment of shallow friendships. We both were callow freshmen who were doing what everyone else was doing and happened to be friends somehow. After Halloween, my network of college friends was still a huge elastic pool of blurry names and indistinct characters. One day, Shanon and I happened to head home together after Mihi's housewarming party. Mainly because we didn't want to miss our last trains. Then we happened to hastily stop by Big Box to take the purikura above, annoying the heck out of the staff who was trying to close the store. It was nothing special but a usual tipsy night home in an intimidatingly exciting place called college.

Two years later, I'm living with Mihi in the apartment where he threw the party, and Shanon has lived with me in my room for a semester and she still is a semi-tenant. We have traveled to Korea together with backpacks and slept in a locker room at a sauna. We finally graduated from the freshman year where we used to hang out by the stairs everyday no matter if we have classes or not. We still haven't stopped dressing up for ridiculous themed parties or even a Thanksgiving dinner. We have consumed an endless number of Shinramen and Soju together. We have finished the entire "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" a couple of times and spent many nights watching her illegal dvds from China. All kinds of places in and around Tokyo - bars, restaurants, beaches, shortcuts - have been explored. Many more jokes and quotes and traditions have been created that I don't even know where to begin with. If she becomes single, I won't leave her alone as the most enthusiastic but the pickiest wing-woman.

For a long time, I have believed that wherever I go anywhere in the world, I'll be just fine. I'll make friends somehow and have a great time. This naive and wild belief has been rather strengthened over time and even has become a fact of life because of friends like Shanon. As our friendship matures transcending nationality, culture, and language, I can't marvel at the wonders of life enough. That strange magic connecting people wreathing with security and a sense of home. We have learned and grown together and we will go our separate ways this summer for one year. Yet there is nothing to hold back since there will be very little room for anything to be remembered wistfully but proudly.

Lost and penniless from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi

Saigon engulfed by a total chaos (taken from The Well Eaten Path)

From far above, the bustling city of Saigon looks like a huge sea in which schools of motorbikes swirl in multiple directions through narrow streets lined by thin, medium-height buildings. Streams of motorbikes and a few cars intersect and intertwine with one another, relentlessly honking yet comfortably and effortlessly maneuvering through the streets. The initial fear and embarrassment I felt when I first tried to cross the road without a traffic light quickly disappeared and was replaced by a useful habit of daringly walking past the speeding motorbikes without getting run over, based on an unspoken rule of mutual concession.

My first few days in Ho Chi Minh City, a.k.a. Saigon, and my first few days in Vietnam were far more than I could have possibly asked for. I was with my dad and his friends who were considering opening a Vietnamese restaurant in Korea. With their voracious desire for food and Vietnamese coffee, we spoiled ourselves on a great variety of Vietnamese cuisines, most of which turned out to be so good no matter where we ate. We also made frequent stops for coffee at various shops, from Western-style cafes with big comfy couches and jazzy music to the squat-on-the-blue-plastic-chairs style mini (and often portable) cafes present in every corner of Saigon. When we took a trip to Mekong Delta we devoured every traditional snack and meal we came across, and at the end of the night we went to bed happily tipsy on either $2 cocktails or 333--Saigonese beer read as bah-bah-bah.

The real journey began as I bid my goodbye to dad and his friends who were flying to Hue. Wandering around the busy De Than street with my time, place, and occasion wisely appropriate 60 L backpack, I peeked at a couple of shabby travel agencies. While sipping my 3rd Ca phe sua da (Vietnamese iced coffee with milk) in the scorching heat of the sun and gawking at throngs of people sweeping over the dusty streets, the name, Nha Trang came into my radar. I liked the quirky sound of the name and it was one of the most famous beach towns in Vietnam! Also the 10 hour long over night sleeping bus was only $9. Next thing I knew I awkwardly seated myself between two French guys on my left and two quiet Vietnamese girls on my right. It was funny semi lying down squeezed between four complete strangers in the back of the bus that was bumping like I was on a really boring ride. We exchanged a few words but then I felt extremely self-conscious about my odor since I spent the entire day mainly sweating like a pig, I decided to shut up and read a book. While trying to read book in English, my confused self between the chatters in French and Vietnamese immediately fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I knew we were almost there not because it was bright outside, but because the bus driver started honking like a 5-year-old boy excitedly playing with a toy car. It meant that we were on a busy local road with other cars or motorbikes around after hours of speeding on highways. It's like an unwritten rule in Vietnam that you have to sound your horn every five seconds if there is another vehicle on the road. Pretty sure I had never seen people who honk so eagerly and devotedly before.

Despite the annoying prelude to the first day in a new city, we were dazzled by a panoramic view of the sunset dappling the water with coral reds and pinks and smudging the horizon. The bus lurched on the road that twists and turns along the coast and everyone on the bus was simply silenced by the view. About half an hour later, the honking got more mercilessly frequent, and we were already in the city riding along the beach area. It was barely 6 a.m. and there were already so many locals on the beach and in the park near by. Apparently, it is the only time during the day when it is not steaming hot, many locals visit the beach and relax before they go to work. From little kids to big adults, they were all playing volleyball and taking walks as if it was Sunday morning. As the girls who sat by me were telling me that they were visiting their old friend who got married and has family here, I could not help imagining her cute little family somewhere on the beach doing their morning routine.

When I found out that the guesthouse I looked up had closed, I had no choice but to hop on the back of those annoying motorbikes each of which was touting 'the nicest and the cheapest hotel's in Nha Trang. After some haggling with my short Vietnamese and his short English, I got a double room with an ocean view for US$7. It was clean and modest. The power was temporarily out for some reason. But it wasn't a problem at all since I dashed to the beach after a quick dark shower.

This is a picture from (www.asiabeautyspot.com) because all the pictures from Vietnam vanished from my crazy haunted camera. I promise it is actually 10 times more beautiful than this picture.

I walked around the beach and dipped my feet in the water. Oh, how long had I waited for this moment! I'm from Busan, the summer capital of Korea, according to Wikipedia and myself, where the beautiful beaches lie along the eastern edge and wonderful nightlife evolves around them. But I had to be infinitely humble in front of this serenity that is much less touched and modernized. It was, for sure, still one of the most popular and busiest vacation spots in Southeast Asia, yet so overwhelmingly quiet and peaceful. There, I had my favorite low-budget Vietnamese take-out meal, Bahn Mi. It is basically a 6-inch-long sub except for it costs only 50 cents at street vendors. If anything good came out from the French colonial period, they would be, undoubtedly, excellent French baguette and coffee. And this baguette strangely mixes perfectly well with the Vietnamese-style topping. With another 50 cent ice coffee, I couldn't ask for a better $1 breakfast right in front of the gorgeous and dazzling water.

Having planned to leave for Hanoi on a 27-hour-long train the next day, I had the entire day to myself. I took a cooking class in the morning, spent the whole day on the beach, and explored around some of the Nha Trang's famous landmarks in the evening as the hotel's frontman excitedly advised me. It was a perfect day.

Little did I know that this perfect day would be spelt with much confusion. After I got back from the Cathedral, I stood in a tiny ATM box, puzzled. My credit card didn't work. I had to catch a train to Hanoi the next day so I could meet up with my friend, Haruka, and also to fly back to Korea. I tried other ATMs and none of them worked. Certainly damning the bank didn't change anything. I sullenly sat at a restaurant and as I was munching the entire dish of Carbonara without enjoying it, I was secretly hoping some kind of miracle would happen and I would find some more cash in the back of my backpack or something. The reeling sense of panic slowly overwhelmed me. I had to be calm and rational. First thing, a night plan with some girls I met on the beach that day had to be given up. The hotel didn't cost much but it was a lot for what I had. I tried to read and calm down and even wrote a postcard to a friend. I was so busy having how to get to Hanoi on the brain, I barely noticed people outside dashing toward one direction hollering. Even the chef stomped out to see what's going on and told me there was a fire in the neighborhood I really couldn't care less. Then the power went out all of a sudden. I was left in the dark of panic and aloneness.

When I reluctantly walked out of the restaurant, I was stunned by thick gray smoke billowing at the end of the street. Hundreds of people were surrounding the scene filling every corner around it and it took me a while to make any sense of it. The building from which the smoke came out was a big hotel in the corner just a few blocks from the beach and two firemen were hanging on a telephone poll. Only the darkness and the unidentifiable sound made by at least five different languages combined filled the air as the smoke slowly crept into the street. When I asked a few foreigners near by about the fire, they did not know much better than me. They only shrugged and said that it looks like there is a fire inside the building. Amid the chaos, I spotted a few stores where you could exchange money and found the clerks completely occupied by the fire rather than my desperate inquiry. After visiting a few more exchange shops, the only piece of information I got out of them was that they don't deal Korean won which I happened to have a little bit of, and I wouldn't be able to make any use of it till the bank opens on Monday. It was Saturday. I lost all my hope and I just wanted to rest in my hotel. Things will be sorted out somehow.

Two hours were spent on the nameless streets squeezing past the crowd. The smoke and the power cut mercilessly blackened the entire district and everyone was so absorbed in the fire scene that they little cared about giving directions. Wandering around the pitch black streets, I relieved myself thinking that I could get hold of a Korean Embassy round here in the worst case scenario. But also at the same time, I felt like I was able to slightly understand how some girls in poor countries wind up selling themselves not to be end up on the streets.

Things were almost eerily back to normal the next morning. Only the police cars and chairs were outside the big hotel but some people told me there wasn't anyone hurt. The lobby was blackened with smoke and it seemed like no one could go inside but the streets were all brightened up by the sun and people were actually working in their offices. I was relieved. It made everything seem much more possible and hopeful. I walked into a travel agency that I randomly spotted and I told one of the agents nervously that I don't have enough money for the sleeping train but I have to go to Hanoi somehow. The agent didn't even smile. She just looked into my eyes indifferently but caringly for a few seconds then simply said, "You don't have money to ride sleeping. Sitting Train. Cheaper. " Still not fully convinced, I showed her all the money I had and told her I had to head to Hanoi today, she counted them and made some phone calls and got me a ticket to Hanoi. Basically, I could sit on the train for 27 hours instead of getting a bed which did not sound so horrible at all at the time. It was half the price of the bed. And there was also about 50,000 VND (about $2 US) left in my hands. Thank God I'm not lost anymore! I was still broke but hoped that Haruka would help me when I get to Hanoi.

The train was half an hour late and it seemed perfectly normal. No one asked questions nor complained. All the foreigners headed to the first class sleeping car when the train arrived and I felt weird standing with a huge backpack which was ostentatious enough that did not help me blend in at all. The station was really old and the train was even more tattered. But it couldn't be more rewarding than to get on it and find my seat that had only one broken arm that was barely hanging there. It's only 27 hours, a day and 3 hours, without food and a proper bed!

The train, often called Reunification Train, runs through the coastal rim of Vietnam connecting the south and the north at the distance of 1726km or 1070 miles. Personally I love taking trains looking out the window. But from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi, a bed costs about the same as plane, so not many people, even the locals would rarely take this route. My car reminded me of a local market where little kids run around and moms and dads eating their food chattering with others. It wasn't air conditioned but a little tv hanging from the ceiling was entertaining people with comedy shows and historical dramas. A little old guy sitting right next to me rested his legs over my feet while sleeping to make himself feel home. It was interesting enough to be in the scene bustling with life but also at the same time, the next 27 hours seemed unrealistically long.

Then when I was reading to fight the boredom, a middle-aged lady came up to me and asked me something pointing at the shelf above. All I could understand was that she was speaking to me in Vietnamese and when she repeater herself a few more times, all the attention was drawn to me suddenly. As soon as I embarrassingly and confusedly said in English, "I'm sorry, I don't understand.." everyone in the car bursted out laughing shouting at us. I guess she gave up on speaking to me, she turned around and sat down. Then the people who were relatively younger around me began talking to me in Vietnamese. The only Vietnamese phrases I knew were the names of the food and "Cam on" meaning thank you. It was then I realized not one person in the car can speak even simple words in English. I had been so used to touristy parts of the country where most people could at least hold simple conversations in English. Then, whenever the cart selling snacks and food passed by, they would ask him how to say certain things in English or have him translate me, and, it would take them half an hour to know that I was from Korea, my name, and my age. It was funny because they nevertheless didn't give up on talking to me and the questions poured out as if they were only multiplying. Good thing Korean TV shows and stars are very popular in Vietnam, we had a lot to talk about.

I got on the train with only 2 bottles of water bottle because I wanted to save the money just in case. A few hours later, my little plastic bag was filled with apples and yogurt and all kinds of scrumptious local fruits and snacks that the people brought from their towns. It was just like being in a countryside in Korea where "I'm full, but thank you. " doesn't exist. Instead, they would repeat the name of the food constantly till you take it and wouldn't take off their curious faces till you have a bite of it. If i ever repeat them, they would find it so amusing that I wished I could be this funny in real life.

People kept coming and going. I brought 3 books with me and expected to sleep off most of 27 hours but it hardly happened. As soon as I get to the second paragraph of a chapter, someone would come up to me and pour questions in Vietnamese or ask me if I know a certain Korean pop singer. Someone would throw a sassy joke and everyone in the car will burst out laughing. That went on technically for almost a day since I was the only one who sat from Nha Trang to Hanoi, no one would have known that it was way passed my bed time. It was weird that the younger people would chatter all night long making noises but no one said anything to them. If there were a couple talking to each other late at night on KTX in Korea, they would get warned by other at least a couple of times.

Four young guys of my age from Da Nang told me they go around the cities and play for local concerts. They even improvised a song for me with no real instrument but drum sticks and humming that was almost like a cappella. While drinking beer till the afternoon, we played a game where we guessed the names of Western rock bands. But then strangely, they got more excited about Korean pop singers and movie stars. I rested my dirty feet over the other empty seat, spitting simple words in English and Vietnamese, trying to figure out what they could understand or not. I stopped caring about the broken arms and backs of the chairs and didn't mind changing seats from here to there anymore. I stopped saying sorry whenever I bumped into their arms but instead began sharing the food I received from some other people. Thinking back, I can't understand exactly how we spent hours and hours not understanding each other but finding everything funny anyways.

As the evening approached, I was getting nearer and nearer to my ultimate destination, Hanoi, where the people had lighter complexions and did not understand my Vietnamese which I learned from the south. Where my friend's chauffeur with a thick Aussie accent and a warm shower awaited me. Where I didn't have to accept food from strangers nor didn't have to worry about if I have enough money and a whole different kind of hospitality and friendship would welcome me.

Tokio Drift

2011年6月13日月曜日

Fiona Apple - Why Try To Change Me Now

2011年6月12日日曜日

Girls Night @ Cotton Club, Takadanobaba

2011年6月8日水曜日

Jacques Brel - Ne me quitte pas

Prohibition signs in Japan.

Have you met...Shanon?

From Vietnam with Love