Les Go…

There’s a section of Hanoi where all the Tays (Westerners) hang out in their bubble comfort zone while “living abroad.” I’ve managed to relatively avoid this section for 365 days. Now, don’t get it twisted, I kick it in Tay Ho (the Western haven) because all the events are there and my good friend lives there but I avoided living in it for a whole year. Now it is a different story. Les Go Explore My Hood.

Tay Ho post Ba Dinh

I am a hater. This is true. I love the Ba Dinh area. I saw a map once that labeled Ba Dinh as the “Tay Ho haters neighborhood.” And that is I. Let me explain. I just don’t understand how someone would come half way around the world to live someplace that has all the comforts of home. Mind you, Hanoi is cheap A.F. I mean, cheap. But, Tay Ho is the one got damn place that is “expensive.” I jus don’t get it.

Funnily, my Vietnamese GF is the one who eventually got me living in Tay Ho. Don’t get it twisted, Tay Ho is nice. Really damn nice. Some of the homes here are stunning.

When I move to a neighborhood I always explore by foot right away. That’s what I did today!

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You know the white b*tch in the horror movie that runs towards the sound or down the dark dirt road? Well, that ain’t me but I am quick to explore some shady ass shit in broad daylight. I found this beautiful oasis coffee shop because I followed the road till its end then proceeded down a dirt path along banana fields. All the good shit in Hanoi is hard to find.

How unassuming the outside looks. When the server learned I was from the States she proceeded to say with a smile, “Jennifer Anniston, Marilyn Monroe!” Hey, it’s better than “Trump!”

After meandering down dirt roads I stopped at maybe the cheapest bia hoi in Tay Ho. Bia Hois are beer joint. Not bars. They’re wide, usually out in the open or under a covering, serve food of some sort and are kind of dirty. And cheap.

This beer is $.38 cents. Yes, they know me when I walk in. I don’t even have to say anything they jus give me a beer. And they’re the sweetest women ever. I could get used to this.

Am I sold on my neighborhood? Not really. But, I get it. It is super peaceful over here and welcoming. It feels like it could be home.

If someone told me, Tammy, tomorrow you’re moving to Sierra Leone/South Korea/Colombia/etc I’d have no qualms. I’d be excited and already packed. But once I relocate to a country I like to stay where I’m at. For example, I’d been in the same house in the Ba Dinh area of Hanoi for a year. I love my landlady, I call her mamma Thuy. I love everything about the studio. So, when I decided I wanted to foster dogs and therefore I’d need to move to a place with a yard, I got super nervous. Les Go Move House.

The process

Yup. That’s all my worldly processions loaded onto a motorbike. Everything I own can fit onto a bike. These wonderful movers showed up 10 minutes early (I love people who are early) and moved all my stuff from the fourth floor in Hanoi heat. That is some shit. They loaded it up then I literally let them drive off with all my possessions. Like, zero f*cks were given. I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me and I just was like, K, see you at this random address in 15 mins!

As I drove my happy ass going 25 mph to my new house I was hoping the whole time they were behind me.

I’m one of those people who can not have my shit in suitcases or boxes. When I’d move back in the States the first thing that I’d unpack would be my books. Here I don’t have many books (I use this amazing book lending site , readaway library in Hanoi) but I didn’t give myself time to relax so I unpacked.

I call this Hanoi Chic. I took old street food stools and slabs of granite I found in my yard to make tables. I strive to be a minimalist. This area will serve as my office, living room and reading nook.

You know, I left my comfort zone where I had been for a year in Hanoi all so I could foster these dogs. And you know, Momo (the one who is very traumatized) is getting on so well with everything. She is growing accustomed to dogs and slowly, very slowly, to humans.

As for the pit bull Bun, she a got damn ham.

If you don’t eat street food in Hanoi you basically ain’t eatin. It’s not a thing here. It’s not like, “Oooo, let’s go to the trendy night food truck market!” Nah, man. This is everyday life. I actually should rename this post Les Go Eat.

Shamefully, or shamelessly, I eat out everyday. Sometimes twice a day. But here’s the thing, it’s not like in other countries where eating out is a once a week type thing. To go grocery shopping here can actually be more expensive than street food.

My staple is Banh Mi. Banh Mi is the Vietnamese sandwich. They’re simple, veggie friendly, and extremely cheap. I literally have one almost everyday.

*Usually with no plastic bag but with this stand the communication got lost.

In Hanoi you are literally eating street food. They prepare the food basically on the ground. Some of the devices they use are so innovative. Most of the time I find one or two spots that I like and stick to them. I say my key words “An Chay” (I’m vegetarian). Which is usually met with blank stares. I swear I’m speaking Vietnamese, ya’ll! After 3 more tries, the woman will literally repeat the exact got damn thing I been saying and commence preparing my food.

This was my breakfast today. I have my busted ass toes an bogus ass sandals in the pic to give you a reference of how low to the ground it really is. I have bad knees, a b*tch is old. These are serious squats. I’m not joking. It’s a serious task to sit on one of these stools.

Remember how I said I love Durian? The smelly fruit that is banned on public transport in many Asian countries? I live for Durian. I had a Durian crepe last night for dinner. Yes, I had a dessert for dinner. I am a grown up, I swear.

There is one thing I can.not.eat. It’s Vietnamese fermented shrimp paste (Mam tom). I really don’t like criticizing other’s food but this is really hard to love. I can not get over the smell. You can smell it a mile away and the taste really is no better. Usually when I’m by myself the Vietnamese street vendors won’t give it to me (because I’m a Westerner) but this morning the woman had jokes.

One of my favorite places to eat is in a Temple courtyard. It is so pleasant to sit among peace and watch the old women gather in the morning and talk. This particular dish has bananas and tofu. I haven’t been able to get this exact dish since; Super lost in translation.

You’ve always gotta be alert while walkin the streets of Hanoi. Not because it’s unsafe. The contrary. I always feel safe here. It’s because you have to dodge bikes, people, and vendors deep frying tofu. Shit is real.

History is a deep mother sucker. Ask any n everybody in Hanoi about Ho Chi Minh City and usually it is negative. Even the Tays (Westerners) feel a certain type of way about HCMC. There are decades of history that as an outsider I will not comment on. My girlfriend is a Southerner so it was only inevitable that I’d travel on down South. Les Go to Ho Chi Minh City.

I had no expectations going to HCMC. I was blown away. Right as I got in that traffic, that law-abiding, common sense traffic I almost died. The sense of familiarity greeted me with got damn pleasant ass weather and smiling faces. Some say HCMC is too “Westernized”. Yea, there’s a lot of similarities but jus overall it’s a got damn great place.

The food

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OK. The food in Hanoi is not bad. I just like a little more flavor. I like spicy ass shit. The kind that is a slow creep and then smacks you in the face. That’s what the food was in HCMC. It had so much flavor in every bite. Not all the food was spicy but there was plenty of tingles happening on my tongue.

This was the warmer to our dining in the dark experience at Noir. I’ve always heard about dining in the dark experiences. I thought it was some trendy, over-priced gimmick. I was so wrong. Firstly, the servers were all visually impaired who honestly provided some of the best service I’ve ever experienced. I should know, I gave 13 years of my life to the restaurant industry. It was and still is the hardest work I’ve ever done.

Being bereft of sight while eating really does enhance all your other senses. I don’t know if it was because the lack of sight but, the food was bangin. And the fun part was that they pick what you’re gonna eat. If you have trust issues this is not the place for you.

Atmosphere

The vibe of HCMC is jus different. It honestly feels like another country. The accents/dialects are distinctly different ( I now know this because I am used to my girlfriend’s Southern accent). The driving culture is different. People actually smile to you on the street. It’s shocking at first. Also, the LGBT scene is poppin in HCMC. I don’t hit the clubs any more (believe me, in my day I was out there) but jus walkin down the street you feel there is family everywhere. We happened upon this joint called The Opposite that was just teeming with Lesbos.

Culture

These were taken in the oldest building in Chinatown. People were stacked upon people and there were pockets of life in every crevice. I absentmindedly walked past a chicken fight in the middle of the corridors.

For history buffs this is surely the city. We stopped at the War Remnants Museum for a sobering afternoon. War, in all it’s forms is devastating. There is never justification for it. This museum holds no bars in exposing the horrific truths.

We only spent a short weekend in Ho Chi Minh City. I’ve been back once more since then and I still have the same feelings. I love that damn city. IF I were to stay here for a third year I’d make that move to HCMC. I feel there’s so much brightness streaming out of that city and I’ve only touched the surface.

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Until next time, I’ll be dreamin’ of them smiling faces, great food, and tame traffic that’s found in Ho Chi Minh City.

The Journey

Being an expat can be lonely. If you don’t speak the language and you’re half way around the world it can seem isolating at times. As mentioned, I’m a dog lover. However, I am a responsible dog lover. My nomadic lifestyle isn’t conducive to owning a pet. When my girlfriend informed me she was on her way to the Hanoi Pet Rescue to look at fostering a pup pup I knew I had to join. Les Go Foster Dogs!

Momo

Meet Momo. Her back story is hard to write and even harder to imagine. She was found with a zip tie around her muzzle. The rescue team tried to get her for 18 days. 18 days this baby went without food and water. 18 days this baby was in assumed immense pain.

She is traumatized. Insanely traumatized. When we first got her, we let her calm down in her safe cage. To get her out the cage (assisted by a dog trainer/specialist) it took much persuasion. Once out of the cage she checked the perimeter to try to find her escape.

She wont let us touch her, yet. Luckily, she has several dog role models to show here that it is ok. We just want to make her feel as safe as possible. I’ve never seen trauma in a dog until now. I’ve seen those feel good stories about cases just like this. I know she will become a complete dog once more.

Bun

Bun. This lil gem was the first dog we met at the shelter. She was kept away from other dogs because she had just had a litter of puppies and was irritated. Girl, I feel ya, I would be too. When my girlfriend saw her she knew I had to see her. The only pitbull in the shelter.

She was found wandering the streets about to pop out puppies. Her puppies have found forever homes. We haven’t gotten her yet because she had to get fixed. No more pushin out tit-suckin puppies! YAY! I am so excited to get her and find her the perfect forever home.

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If you don’t love a pitbull smile you have no soul.

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Yea, she popped out all them little babies. Her face is priceless.

I’m scared for this next journey. I just want to properly help these babies and find them a forever home. I know they’ll give me just as much joy to my life as hopefully I’ll give to theirs.

Cat Ba island is part of Halong Bay. Halong Bay is where all the tourist go to reenact their version of MTV Spring Break: Party boats. Barf. On a cool pop culture tip, Halong Bay is where Godzilla was filmed. We chose Cat Ba, though, specifically to avoid masses of drunken tourist who are actin a fool. Les go to Cat Ba!

Gettin there and checkin the weather

Ok. Most of the time I’m not an idiot. I checked the weather beforehand to know what to pack for but, I didn’t realize 70 degrees was cold on an island. Right. An my little weather app showed rain. But, in my defense my app says it’s raining every got damn day in Hanoi and it never is. So, did I pack for chilly, rainy weather? Nope!

I literally packed like I was going to Bali or some shit. I had those little cute, deceptively scandalous open side flowy Asian pants (If you’ve been to South East Asia you know what I’m talkin about). I had to buy leggings off the side of the road. It was real. On a good note, the way to Cat Ba was so easy. We took the Cat Ba Express. I feel asleep ( I am a master sleeper. It’s an art) and I woke up three hours later in Cat Ba!

This was the view from our Cat Ba Mountain View hostel. The hostel was dope with private mini cottages to single bed cottages. It also had a mountain-top bar and pool which was empty and quiet! I still reminisce on the extremely firm Vietnamese mattress there. It was the best sleep of my life.

Kayaking and Monkey Island

You know, science is something else. Though it was balls freezing the water was luke warm. We went in October(ish) so the water was still warm from the summer. It was so pleasant!

I can’t even muster up a smile because my teeth were chattering.

Monkey Island. I always feel some type of way when it comes to animals as a tourist attraction. I usually avoid them like the plague. Wildlife should not be tampered with just for the enjoyment of mere humans.

So, when we were on our way to Monkey Island I was definitely nervous. My experiences in Costa Rica taught me to never feed monkeys and the tourists and locals there (for the most part) respected this.

Ya’ll, the mother suckin monkeys on Monkey Island were real. They roll deep and will steal all your shit.

I was eating a banana (I know, how cliche) and this lil G literally hopped on my table to take it. I panicked. I threw the banana at him.

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Please, for the love of Yeezus, stop feeding the damn monkeys. We’ve gotta do better. Here’s why: Stop feedin the damn monkeys.

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Cat Ba is great escape from Hanoi. I probably wouldn’t go during peak season because excessive drinking on party boats is not my scene. But hey, do you, boo! This amazing group of limestone mountainous islands is special. Next time I just hope the weather is better . Or… I’ll actually believe the weather app.

I’m a vegetarian. But, I’m a traveler veggie so I will eat meat or meat based food if it is part of the cultural experience. There are many places to eat as a veggie in Vietnam (Buddhist safe) so I don’t really have to venture into meat havens to say I’ve experienced Vietnamese food except when there’s Obama Bun Cha. Les Go Eat Bun Cha!

So, why is a vegetarian in a meat bun cha restaurant, you ask? Because Obama. That’s why. President Obama and Anthony Bourdain visited Hanoi in 2016. They ate a this particular bun cha restaurant and since then, this restaurant has capitalized on it all the way to the bank. And I love it.

I traveled to Accra, Ghana the year Obama got elected. I vividly remember people running up to us smiling, waving and yelling, “Obama’s people!” They were so happy that we were there and we were a representation of him. Flash forward to 2019. The other day I was in the supermarket and a guy asked where I was from. He proceeded to laugh and say, “Mr. Trump.” That shit hurt. The magnitude of #45’s election still has me reeling. His presence and symbolism spreads to all corners of the globe, and not in a positive sense.

I have many questions, comments, and concerns about all US politics and politicians. Many. But, let me tell you, I was legit damn near emotional in this restaurant. The symbolism of the Obama pictures all over is a little over whelming.

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Say what you want but all I know is that #45 came to Hanoi not too long ago and no one gives a damn about where he ate.

Even as a veggie I was able to eat the bun (noodles) and enjoy the sweet and savory flavor of the broth. Yea, to make Obama a near saintly figure is a bit much but the experience was worth it.

Or E-Bike if we’re being technical

I consider myself to be a bad ass woman. I’m sure in who I am. I walk and talk with confidence, I live my truth in all of my 30+ greatness. I’m basically like Rhianna, If we’re being honest (HAHA I couldn’t even keep a straight face on THAT one). BUT I am shamefully scared, no, petrified, of riding a motorbike in Hanoi. So…Les Go Ride a Motor Bike!

K, so, I’ve talked about the driving atmosphere here in Hanoi. This shit is bananas. It’s unlike any level of stress I’ve ever had to deal with. There are no laws on the streets of Hanoi. People go down “one ways”, speed through red lights, drive on sidewalks, swerve around pedestrians, and carry the most unimaginable things on their bikes. But, as I’ve said before, it’s like being in a school of fish; Law breakin ass fish.

After a year of living here I thought, les grow up. So I bought an E-bike!

The first day I got it I made it 2 block. Two whole terrifying freakin blocks. The xe om (pickup motorbike drivers) actually had to assist me across my street. He probably sensed the fear pouring from my eyes. It’s so frustrating because all the of Tays (Westerners) can do it. I swear, they’re the ones out there swerving and ridin all the way to China ‘n I can’t ride a bike that tops out at 25MPH…

Night driving is way calmer so I decided to wait until I could breathe and not get driven off the road. And… I made it at least a few miles!! I was white knuckle the whole time but it was manageable!

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There’s nothing like the rush of facing your own fears! Admittedly, this wasn’t a fear of mine till Hanoi but, still! I mean, literal bicycles were passing me but I was out there ridin still! The only ones you see on the streets riding E-bikes are 16 year old Vietnamese children or older people. I guess I’m that slow ass ole lady huggin the sidewalk the whole time!

Celebrate!

To celebrate my girlfriend and I went to this newly opened cafe and homestay in Tay Ho called, Alley Garden. I had a cream cheese black tea. Sups good and fatty!

I guess I’m officially livin like a Hanoian. Imma be extra safe out in these streets, though!

Cusco and Machu Picchu

Hey, let’s climb a whole damn mountain with no water, food, or experience! Says no one except me and my best friend. Yea, the view was vale la pena but got damn, almost dying in the process was real. And I should had known because this was my second time to the stunning Machu Picchu. But let me back up. Les go to Cusco and Machu Picchu!

Cusco

Cusco is special. The streets are brick laden and there are plenty of delicious restaurants to explore. It def have that small town feel but there’s enough going on because it is a major lay over to get to Machu Picchu. Since it’s in the mountains, the air is crisp and fresh but freezing at night. I grew up in the cold. And when I say cold I mean, b*tch, it’s cold. Like, nine months of solid unpleasant ass got damn BS. I hate the cold. I actually feel I have a fear of being cold… like, it’s real. So, Cusco is a little much for me at night.

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I’m a dog lover. And if I’m being completely honest, I’m a breedist. I love pit bulls. I’ve only ever had pitbulls and I will only ever have pitbulls. But, I show all dogs love in between. In Cusco the dogs are a straight up gang. You’ll be walking down the road and there’ll be a squad of dogs like, “mess me with me if you wanna, ho.” I felt no type of way about them, I just liked to observe them, especially in the morning time when they gaily travel in packs before anyone is up.

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Machu Picchu

I honestly don’t know how to put into words the experience of Machu Picchu. The absolute magnificence, significance and stunning powers that the magnitude of Machu Picchu evokes is unwriteable. The actual size of it is mind-blowing and humbling.

Now, getting to Machu Picchu is hella tricky. You know I’m cheap. Like unnecessarily so. But, getting to Machu Picchu one can not be cheap. Unless you are and you learn the hard way like us. In our defense, we had planned to take the train which takes you basically as close as you can to the site but there was a teacher’s strike that week so all transportation into the main village was shut down.

As a traveler (or les be real, tourist) I should know better than to buy a package tour deal on the side of the road. But you know, when your pockets are a bigger influence than common sense a chick be messin up. So, we got the bus to the main village of Machu Picchu and I thought I was gonna die at every turn. Literally, every mountain winding turn.

Anywho, we arrive at the destination and prepare to wake up at the ass crack of dawn (about 3:30 am because you want to leave by 4am to head to the site. The sun rise above Machu Picchu is life affirming.) In the AM do we take a bus into the Machu Picchu entrance or do we walk all. the. got. damn. way. up? You guessed it, we walk. This walk is real. Very narrow, steep, stone steps up a mountain.

Oh yea, and I bought the mountain hike ticket (they failed to put on the ticket that this is for advanced hikers.)

The view though… And we failed to bring water or Pisco for that matter. I thought we couldn’t bring liquids in, you can. It wasn’t my smartest moment.

The mountain trekking I did with my sis in 2012 was much different experience. We were prepared. She’s the responsible one.

All of the walking, trekking, sweat and nearly tears my guy and I shed was beyond worth it. We made rookie mistakes but that only added to our story, our experience.

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Lima

I believe in the Universe. I was “raised atheist” and have grown into someone who tries to be more aware of energies and the Universe. I don’t believe in fate, per se, but I do believe that certain places, people, and experiences you encounter are the Universe’s way of showing you where you should be. And there is something about Peru that draws me to it inexplicably so. Maybe I should listen to the Universe. Les Go to Peru! (These are my travels from July 2016).

He’s my best friend!

When I got the second calling to Peru (I had gone with sister in 2011) it was in large part to meet up with my best friend. At the time, he had been traveling around South America for almost a complete year; Something I aspire to do but now my ole ass needs stability! It’s crazy enough that I move different countries every two years! But, honestly, I’d had met him in Nebraska (no shade) if that’s what it had taken. It just happened that it was in beautiful Peru.

We spent a significant amount of time in Lima. Lima is a dope ass city. It nestles the ocean and seems to have a scene for everyone. You could get lost in a book in one of the many cafes or walk around aimlessly and feel the vibe of the city. We did all of the above.

Particularly, we stayed in the Barranco neighborhood. It’s definitely a hipster feel but hipsters only seem to be self-entitled jerks in the States, so no worries there! We basically squatted at this lil bodega, Juanito de Barranco, that had the most adorable group of ole men who ran it. It was jus homey enough without pandering to the tourists that floated among the locals. I mean, look at this OG slang sandwiches:

And because Barranco was a little hipster, the street art was bangin:

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An the motha suckin food n dranks! Sweet baby Jesus.

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Everything you put into your mouth in Lima is to die for. The freshness of the ceviche is stunning. It falls apart in your mouth. You can try Cuy (Guinea Pig) which I didn’t really care for or street food which I always care for. The grimy-er the better!

When I think about Peru, or Latin America for that matter, it makes my heart hurt. I still reminisce on this particular trip as if it were yesterday. I’ve never felt more home in another country than Peru. It is magical. The people. The culture. The language. Everything.

For now I’m gonna dream on this bangin’ ass Pisco Sour.