In the Year of the Dragon

It rained the first day we were here, coming on right in the middle of our work clearing dirt and preparing concrete. No one stopped, though. (Everyone was wet from sweating anyway!)I felt like an image from some propaganda poster with my cone hat and hoe, diligently hacking at the earth. A crowd gathered, staring at us strange mud-streaked foreigners in bemused wonder.

"There are only three reasons anyone can think of that you're here doing this right now," we were told. "One, you're all CIA spies. Two, you're crazy. Three, you're religious."

We made friends with many of the children in that place. We had "student flower wars" in which we'd throw tiny prickly plants at each other; at the end of each day, we'd always have at least two or three still stuck on our shirts. One made it her mission to guide me everywhere, letting go of my hand only when she wanted to ride on my shoulders. Speaking no English, she still managed to be an excellent tour guide, pointing out things that interested her. "Meow," she'd say, and point at the cat skulking in the corner. She'd gesture for my camera, and take pictures of her friends, allowing me to see through her eyes for a time.
I sat on the low porch with her, struggling to weave a basket out of bamboo strands.

"For many of these children, it is their first time interacting with foreigners."

Once we got to Hanoi, everything was different. We were invited to explore the city with some of the university students, and of course I went. My newfound Vietnamese friends and I ended up at the Hoa Lo Prison ("Hanoi Hilton") museum, in which I was particularly surprised to discover a souvenir shop that sold knockoff Tintin merchandise.
How things have changed!
One 3+ hour bus ride later, we ended up in a new place, to help teach English at a brand-new international school. International Culture Night turned out to be a bigger affair than we expected, involving dancing, singing, beatboxing, Vietnamese rapping, and all kinds of exciting madness. We tried traditional "bamboo dancing," which involves artfully dodging rhythmically moving bamboo sticks. A group of us got up there and rocked Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours," to great fanfare. I am wearing a ring that a new friend insisted on giving me; though our conversation could only consist of a few phrases and a bit of Google Translate, we still became friends.

"Listen to the music of the moment, people dance and sing, we're just one big family...!"

Now, I'm back in Hanoi, enjoying the use of a real keyboard instead of my touchscreen. It's strange returning to a "familiar" place... and even stranger to call this street "familiar!"
Ha Long Bay is next on the agenda, a place that is said to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. Four days on the ocean in a junk sounds like paradise to me; I'll try to encapsulate it for you as best I can when I return.

I admit, I love hearing tales of adventures from foreign lands. Currently, this means AMERICA! ;D So, tales of adventure from home are always welcome in the comment thread. ^^

As always, your friendly neighborhood aethernaut,
~M~

The Land of Expectations

I have officially experienced Mongolia.
Gallopped across the steppes, wind blowing through my hair.
I will miss the lovely people I met there, but I will remember it forever.

Ulaanbaatar is a clash of worlds, a discombobulated kaleidoscope of country gers overshadowed by crumbling concrete buildings. Driving can often feel like being on the Indiana Jones ride!
It is a world away from the Mongolian countryside: stark green as far as the eye can see, peppered by braying cows, sheep, and horses. I helped our new friend, the young shepherd Tsitsah, herd his sheep down the hills. As we traveled, slowly making our way home to the round tent-like ger, he would throw his red Frisbee high into the air, and we'd run forward to catch it.

Now, I am in Vietnam, and it is like nowhere I've ever been before.
The city of Hanoi is a whirl of colors and smells, with wires strung every which way and vendors carting baskets full of exotic fruits and tasty delights. One of these looks and tastes something like a donut hole, but is squishy and largely hollow, as it is made from rice flour. Motorbikes dominate the streets, but flow magically around you the moment you walk into the street.
Further away from the city, tall skinny buildings teeter next to short grass huts. Bikes cart everything from children to pigs to long sticks of bamboo. Everybody really DOES have a water buffalo. Children stopped in the street to stare at us weird foreigners, then ran forward, excited to play with us. We threw "student flowers" at each other: small, sticky plants that are perfect toys. One small child led me around by the hand, only deciding to let go when I lifted her onto my back.

I'm in a dream. A mesmerizing journey. I am looking forward to sharing stories and continuing the journey when I return home.

Until next time, your friendly neighborhood aethernaut,
~M~