I realized we never really officially said it, but we’re all at our respective homes safe and sound.

All of us, that is, except for Andrew who is presently in Hoi An, Vietnam. He has this to say about that…

There is this crazy “kid’s” lantern lighting festival going on. So the streets are crazy busy.
And you can get suits made for pennies.
And there is a foreign exchange school here for swedish folks.

I spent about a week in Hanoi shooting through crowded streets on a scooter and eating dangerous street noodles but in the end, I was thankful to finally be going home. I got on the plane on the night of the 6th and woke up on the morning of the 7th at Incheon Airport in South Korea.

I had an 8 hour layover in Korea and there was no way I was going to spend it hanging out at the Duty Free stores. (more…)

 photo by chillntravel

One of my favourite things to do is seeing a movie at the cinema without knowing anything about it other than the title. Being dropped off after dark in Hanoi on Vietnam Day with all my luggage is like that times ten.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone we were coming?” I asked as Jon banged on the locked door of the guest house.

“Well… um… It’s cool, don’t worry about it,” sputtered Jon. Then he led me through a dark alleyway and around a turn to a busy intersection. After having driven across all of Asia, I have learned to remain relaxed in these sorts of situations so I followed him, calmy taking in the beauty of the crowded architecture.

We approached two men on scooters parked at the corner and Jon gesticulated to them while shouting out various numbers and exchanging looks of feigned disinterest. Apparently, fifteen was the correct number, as in fifteen-thousand Vietnamese Dong, about one dollar.

“You’re going to love this,” he said to me grinning. Realization snuck up on me and smacked the back of my head.

“But… with all our bags?” I protested, but before I knew it, I was handing the driver my small backpack and sleeping bag which he nestled between his legs while I tried to balance myself and my 15kg travel backpack on the back of the scooter.

We shot off into a teeming crowd of children, balloons, scooters, trucks, and merchants as thick as a bowl of noodles. The wind blowing through my hair was a refreshing reminder that I wasn’t wearing a helmet and my hands clamped down on the seat even tighter. I started to envision the shock and pain of smashing into a streetside barbeque vendor at 30km/h. But after a moment of panic, I noticed a look of glazed non-chalant-ness on the faces in the crowd and realized that I was the only thing out of place. The driver knew what he was doing. What I was doing was not necessarily a terrifying deathrace, but rather something incredibly fun and exciting. I started to grin as the bike blew past a stoic family of 5 on a scooter next to us.

True to his word, Jon managed to find us a luxurious, albiet expensive ($12.50 per person), hotel just around the corner from his favourite bar, Le Pub, where we were greeted warmly by the pub’s owner Matt. Within an hour we had eaten a hot meal and found a place to rent motorbikes. Jon gave me the nickel tour around the city on the back of a scooter before we settled in for the night.

Now I’m sitting in my fancy hotel room writing this update and avoiding a sudden and heavy rainstorm. Soon I will go explore, spend my first million dong, and slurp noodles. Wish me luck!

So I have yet to indulge in the joys of an animal’s, ahem, special appendage. Nonetheless, the last several days have featured a full-on cavalcade of oddball eats. Have you ever eaten the pointy bill on a chicken’s head? Sweet babies, now I have.

And I probably won’t again.

I won’t bore you with a grocery list of goodness, but know this: I have found nirvana. It is riding a bike around Beijing while eating a bag of fresh-steamed dumplings. If I’m forced to choose how my life will end, this may be selection: Popping the last steaming, pork-licious dumpling into my mouth as a bun turns me into road pizza.

Anyhoo, tomorrow I head back to America. Today Mims flies to Vietnam. So does Jon. Andrew remains in Beijing until the ninth, then takes the train to Vietnam. It’s sad, but know what’s astounding? I have one more day to cruise around this fair, polluted town on my broken-down $20 bike, filling my belly to Buddha-like proportions. Dumplings, I’m coming for you.

P.S. This’ll be just about my last post on this here beautiful Web thingie. If you want to continue to read any of my words, I post most of my articles and so on over at: My So-Called Strife.  Also, we’ll likely be posting a packet of photos here on the site upon the return. So check back sporadically for supreme excitement.