When nothing makes sense, I like to write.

My draft box is getting clogged as I am not liking anything that I've mustered onto this bloggy of mine in the last few days. Forcibly written, I tend to vomit my words rather than spit it and like vomit it feels unnatural. Acidic I suppose. So I clean it up fast so no one sees.

My favorite literary device is the metaphor.
Simple is as simple does.
I understand you.
My other favorite literary device is parallelism. It's harder to understand but it sure sounds good when you do.

I'm a pretty big fan of symbolism or basically writing about something in the form of something else so that the reader doesn't detect it as readily apparent, but the reader knows. Unconsciously the reader knows.

I enjoy beats over lyrics.
I enjoy the idea rather than the details.
I enjoy the colors over content.

I wonder what this all means.

I like things in three.

---
nice word:
cemented

---

I let her have the window seat. I love the window seat, it calms me, and makes me happy. But this time I gave her the window seat because I knew it calmed her and made her happy. I looked over at her to see if my theory was true - it was. She stared out of the window just as I do.  It eases us.


Had I not decided to stay in Vietnam for 2 years I would of never met her. Never met the person  whose resilience and weakness altogether inspires me to recommit myself to my passions. Her resilience along with those of other trafficking returnees have me realize that the world is a beautiful place.

I lost this somewhere along the way in college. I became "jaded" and I stopped caring. I went on a search again what it meant to be a human. I went really far away too to find it, I went to Hong Kong. I sure found it. I found it in many ways but when I went back, I went back. The contradictions and the inability for people's words to relegate into their actions disappointed me deeply.


I fall asleep with the light on sometimes. I'm so tired. Sometimes I get stuck in swirls. Suspended between different worlds and contradictions I feel tugged. One day I'll buy a cupcake for 2 dollars and the next day I'll conduct an interview where a mother tells me after an entire arduous day out in the fields she makes $2.50. What the fuck Universe why do you do that to me? Why do you let me compare the two worlds? Why do you do that? How can you do that?


One of my favorite literary devices is parallelism because it allows you to balance a sentence - but one part without the other is not as strong. Together the sentence is an "OH YES". A very overused example is MLK's "Not by the color of my skin but the content of my character"

OH YES.



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I need to read.
I need to pack.
I need to do things.
I need to be.
I need to be smarter.
I need to be less shy.
I need to relax.

Sometimes I am filled with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

Similar to the realization that your existence may be moot or to that "fuck my life" feeling after watching an idealistic love movie.

You all know exactly what I'm talking about.

Oh that feeling. 
Yes, that feeling.

I don't have much to say about this at the moment because my brain feels really fried. Sizzle sizzle.

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If you haven't googled JK Rowling Speech at Harvard yet you should. I'm not going to leave a link here because you probably won't click it. She speaks truth and mirrors a lot of what I follow in life.

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I have just about over three weeks left. I think I've entered that insanity pre-departure state. Everything is just so full of emotion for me right now. Getting that nuoc mia, getting that pho, doing my workshops, packing my life into a luggage, gradschools, goodbyes, realizations, work work work, saying no to people who want me to carry things back for them, pretty darn great but I'm exhausted.

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It's July ya'll! And I just went to the rural areas to visit homes of potential scholarship recipients. Just thought you might like to take a peak and what I see. I absolutely love their homes, the wood, and the things they use to decorate. Beautiful.

"What is that fruit?" a scholarship recipient asks. A rare one!

Rice grains 

This family is from the central region and moved down to the Mekong Delta. You can totally tell with the hot tea they served me.

Video:

Out on a program scholarship house visits to conduct interviews for new scholarships. Here I am on a motorbike with a teacher and a student going to each of the houses. (With the student who knows where everyone lives and is guiding us as we conduct interviews.) People really know each other, a real community, and many of the teachers I meet really care about their students. This is a typical moment in my work and I'll miss this part of my work a lot.

Just 5 days left - help me as much as I help you waste time with my blog!

Hi Everyone. I know you guys love reading why I love Vietnam but here's a serious one. I love Vietnam because the girls and young women here are brilliant and resilient. I see myself in them. Unfortunately for girls born in the rural border regions can be vulnerable to sexual trafficking. Most of the girls I meet are under 18, some even 13. If you ever stare into the eyes of a child whose hope for the world has been beat out of them you wouldn't be able to look away. It's disheartening.

Do something. Lovely friends please take the same amount of time you take to browse facebook albums to:

1) Create a simple profile here, http://www.changemakers.com/

2) Until July 19 - Discuss, share and like ADAPT into the semi-finals. This means, to like, share on your social networks, and post a comment or question about ADAPT, I or other staff will answer them =). We'll engage with you.


We've got just 5 days left.


If there are at least 15 people who sign up and help me...let me know! (email me: kimhdam@gmail.com). I'll enter you in a RAFFLE to win a beautifully designed photo book of my current art workshop project with trafficking returnees, cây by Donna Choi.

Let your roomies, friends and family know. <3

hugs hugs and more hugs.

Kim

Today the lady who sells me tofu made me smile.

She was yelling or talking really loudly rather (this is hard to distinguish for Vietnamese people) about noodles. She was saying something about noodles being tossed to the side to the lady in the stall next to her and about her having to throw away those noodles at the end of the day. As my tofu lady, she sells much more than tofu. She sells noodles, any kind of "Banh" stuff that you need, from banh hoi to banh canh. She usually greets with me with a smile. Today was no different.

Yelling or talking loudly to the lady next to her.
What would you like honey?
I point to the fried tofu. She continues to yell/talk loudly.
How many again?
2
There you go honey. 4000.
Continues to yell/talk.

I love Vietnamese people. With so much going on things like that don't phase them. The other day I forgot that I was heating up my soup and left it on for a long time until all the liquid evaporated and what was left was charcoal black. The burnt stunk up the office but no one seemed to mind. In fact one staff member said "it smells like caramelized sugar!"  On the contrary however, Vietnamese people are not scared to "blow up" in public. It is not a pretty site. Luckily for me, I can stand and watch like it's a soap opera show with no shame.

In Vietnamese...
FUUUUUCCCK YOU!!!!!
WHAT HUH? YOU WANT TO HIT ME HUH?
RAAAWWWWRRR. #@$#^%$*^%!
HIT ME! HIIIIIIIT ME!
FUCK YOU!
SEE EVERYONE SEE!! MY OWN SON EVERYONE! HAHAHAHA!

Whoa. Yes that was pretty intense. I stood on my balcony for a long time watching this fight scene between a mother and her son. There was lot of pacing, shoes thrown around, and a motorbike on the ground and what seemed to be a stoic father.

Anyways, I went to the market with the accountant, Loan. She drove the motorbike and although it is really just a 2 minute walk from the market I was feeling really lazy myself. There is some sort of lethargy or sluggishness that has taken over my mind and tasks as of late. I am unsure way but I'm sure it has something to do with fear. Anyways we hit the market. Loan decided to by mouse. I am still not used to this mouse meat and almost threw up when I tried to watch the lady clean the insides of the mouse meat. What made me want to throw up was seeing an entire skinless mouse. But this is not your average "dirty" rat as locals tell me. It's like a prairie mouse that runs through the rice paddies so it's okay! I've lived here for a while, but I think I'll pass. I've tried it a few times and couldn't stomach it.

Blood, sweat, mud, and dirt is what I love about a Vietnamese market. The food is dirty. The food came straight from the ground that morning, the food was caught that morning, the food was killed that morning, the food is fresh, alive, raw and real. In America we're removed from our food. Placed in pristine packages, wrapped in plastic, hidden in boxes, strategically stacked on top of one another, organized in aisles, expiration date stamped, seal of approval met, distinguished as organic, on sale, frozen. Our food comes to us perfect. We are removed from our food we have no idea where it comes from, who touched it, or what it took to get to the grocery store that day.

I know that all the fish and seafood was caught either early that morning or the night before. The fishermen work hard and the women transport the soon to be dinner items to the market. They sell, clean the fish and bargain with you. They chit chat with one another, sleep in hammocks at noon, and have another go in the afternoon. They are the market vendors whose livelihood is encompassed in fresh vegetables, a pig or cow, or mangosteen.

Green onion and chili  is always given for free with your purchase. When I get green onion that still has a whole bunch of dirt clinging to its roots I'm always taken aback a bit. Oh yeah...this shit came from the ground, and someone had to pick it whoa.

I'm already feeling it. I'm going to have incredible withdrawals when I get home. I'm also scared that this sense of loneliness will come back to me. The kind I used to get in high school and college. Southern California is so painfully lonely. The California sun is just not warm enough. I'm not good enough. I'm fucking scared. I will be a lone wolf among the pack of people who are driven by the American dream. Fuck you google+. Cemented rigid dreams will envelop me, one that is shaped by the necessity of order, sanitation and materialism. I won't understand and they won't understand me. I know I will quickly be broken into routine.  I will be guided by sales at Ontario Mills. Forever 21 and H&M will rule my fashion sense. Ralphs and Whole Foods will tell me what to eat. I will go to 99 ranch and try to imagine myself in Asia. I will go to Westminster and speak Vietnamese. I will become acquainted with my pals, the 60, the 10, the 71, the 101, and the 405. I will get to know my family again. My southern California family and their dreams. I will be part of it again after 6 years. I will get to spend holidays such as Christmas and Thanksgiving with them. I will again, try to get all 20 something people in a picture together. I will drive. I will be scared to go over 75 mph. I will get to know my highschool BFF's once more. I will dance. I will go to shows. I will come back to my art drawer and do art. I will make cards for friends. I will overcome fears and not overcome them. I will be nervous. I will cry. I will laugh. And I suppose I'll figure out a way to be alive again.

Reason #2 + The process of canh bí đỏ (pumpkin broth soup)

Anytime, anywhere.Why I love Vietnam!
Reason #2

Anytime, anywhere you can find people singing with no shame in the form of Karaoke. (As the Vietnamese say: KA RA OKAY!) You would think that the prevalence of "saving face" would serve as a deterrent to really bad singing but no, it does not. I've actually grown quite fond of it. The way that a mother grows fond of her baby's never ending crying and tantrums. No special event is needed. Unexpected and unpredictable, Karaoke surfaces in the morning, on a Wednesday late afternoon, and even when there's a wild party at 7:15 pm at night.

I'm trying really hard to share my abroad experiences through stories, photos and video clips. Hopefully I can post everyday. Enjoy!

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The process of canh bí đỏ (pumpkin broth soup)

I fucking love soup. My friend Linh says I make good soup. Here, I've learned that soup is not easy to make. It requires patience, knowing the right amount to put in without measuring cups and the correct order of putting things in. In America, I never quite understood how to make soup. Unfortunately my mom's attempts of teaching me were not exactly conducive to soup making.

While mom is cooking soup
Come here and learn how to do something.
How do you know how much to put in?
I just know.
Yeah but how do you know? Like one teaspoon or what? I don't get it.
You just know.
Okay...
I attempt to "help"
Stop that, oh just get out the kitchen.
But...
You're going to burn the house down.

That was the extent of my soup lessons. I mean teaching soup lessons to a kid is like reading Moby Dick to a toddler. We just got no patience.

However, after a few attempts and learning from fabulous cooks, I now know how to cook soup.

Step 1: REALLY IMPORTANT. Turn on stove to boil water.

Step 2: Get tools ready. That is a certain kind of pumpkin - I don't know it's name. Don't use the pumpkin that you find on Halloween. You will not be happy.

Step 3: Use tools and peel that shit. I hate this part. (Hey Kim how did you take that picture if you live by yourself? Tuck it into my chin.)

Step 4: Scoop mushy insides out. (Martha Steward would be proud of my instructions).

Step 5: Try to cut into evenly divided pieces.

Secret Step 6: Heat up the garlic first to let it sizzle and smell good. My mom may beg to differ, since this actually burns the garlic but I enjoy burnt things.

Secret Step 7: Cook the pumpkin! Yes! You don't throw it in the soup, doing so will cause the pumpkin to disintegrate into stringy pieces. Stir frying it first keeps it together.

Step 8: Viola.

Step 9: Water should be boiling by now.

Secret step 10: Dried shrimp. This is like Vietnam's quick fix, sort of like Prego spaghetti sauce. Instead of stewing over the stove waiting for your beef to cook, just throw these suckers in and your soup is savory and fishy smelling.

Step 11: Throw everything in. Marinate with salt, sugar, and stock according to your tastes.

Step 12: YAY! Add cilantro, green onion, and pepper. Makes it look prettier and taste better!

I almost fell asleep writing this blog post. I thought for some reason soup would be mildly entertaining. I suppose I can tell you why I really like this soup. I live with this amazing staff member named Thao whose an artist and lived in Hungary for 15 years whose story telling skills have people lying on the floor laughing or captivated in still silence. She cooks me this soup. When she's out on field visits, I attempt to cook the things that she cooks but can never quite match up in wholesome goodness. Also a trafficking returnee showed me some of the "secrets" to this soup such as stir frying the pumpkin before I throw it in the water. I use the word "secrets" but it's probably my dumb ass not knowing very basic Vietnamese soup 101.

Now that I am about to leave Vietnam, I not only have awesome soup recipe's up my sleeve, but also have ever lasting memories that come with it. And that's why I fucking love soup.

Why I love Vietnam: anytime, anywhere.

Reason #1
Anytime, anywhere I find aunts feeding me or delivering food to me. Yesterday one aunt delivered a durian to my doorstep. This morning my other aunt drove over homemade bamboo soup. Nothing beats the warmth of Vietnamese people. Vietnamese people don't say "I love you" but they definitely show it through hot soups and stinky fruits.

In my last days here I'm going to start a series called "Why I love Vietnam: anytime, anywhere." It's a count down simply put of why I love Vietnam. There are many things that permeate the culture and you can basically find them at anytime, anywhere in Vietnam. Through this I hope to capture the small nuances of my day and the things I now take for granted having lived here for nearly 2 years.


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The process of  Sầu riêng (Durian)

Non-Asian people think this fruit smells. Actually Asian people also think it smells but at least we don't use it as an ingredient on Fear Factor. Psh. Noobs.

This is my first attempt at opening a durian all by myself. My aunt dropped it by my house yesterday, I was very excited and a tad bit overwhelmed at the prospects of opening this extremely spikey fruit.

Step 1: Stare at fruit.

Step 2: Poke at fruit to see really how sharp it is. It's sharp.

Step 3: Get REALLY BIG KNIFE!

Step 4: Find a strong person (in this case myself). Rip open with bare hands. RAWWWWR!

Step 5: Bask in success.

Step 6: Bon appetite. This delicacy beats caviar any day suckas.

Note: Ok, so for the observant, yes there was already slices in the durian when I first got it. Yes, that means it was actually really easy to open. No, I didn't use the really big knife at all actually. No, you still need to be really strong to open it. Yes I am one of the best damn durian openers ever. Thank you.

Trying to turn on my brain on.

Sometimes I forget that I graduated from a 4 year University. I also forget that I used to be really "smart" in high school, so much so that I was ranked #2. I feel normal and most of the time I feel stupid compared to the other brilliants in the world. I tend to be more quiet so for the most part no one knows what the fuck I'm thinking. I'm not really competitive. Not really argumentative. I wander rather than banter.

In a group of friends.
Poverty no longer exists!
I beg to differ, if we look at the statistics (insert academic statistic that friend wrote in a paper)
What do you think Kim?
What?

What's really going on in my head: Sweeping generalizations and your singular comments about poverty will not reduce it. So immediately I zone out. In fact I'm pretty good at labeling a conversation useless before it starts. Usually it begins whether I feel like the person will listen to me. Sadly, 90% of the time this is not true, the person I talk to never truly listens to me, here are some examples:

Me: I think when you go outside of the city you learn much more from the people, you connect more.
Idiot: I do connect to the people!
Me: Really?
Idiot: I talk to the lady that sells me bread in the backpackers district everyday!

Me: I live in Long Xuyen, 5 hours away.
Someone: Why would you do that to yourself?

Baby steps. I realize maybe people are just scared to be wrong. Some are quick to judge. Like me, they are scared of being stupid. Some are less inhibited and talk their ass off.

---

The limitations of my vocabulary and poor spelling skills (damn you auto correct) sometimes scares me. My rather sad GRE score also scares me, but for the first time I will be saying "fuck it" to my score and I'm just going to apply. I'm usually not this carefree when it comes to academics but for the first time I think I am becoming that and it's quiet nice. I'm slowly realizing that I should not care where I get into because I am now very good at finding the best out of the situation (I lived in small town Vietnam for two years and loved that experience). It's about the people.

I've been grappling with thoughts of how to take my rich deep experiences in Vietnam and translate it into my career in America. The other day I talk to my mom's childhood friend who asked me this question in a honest genuine way (she has a daughter in Australia):

In Vietnamese:
Do you regret that you stayed here for two years? Like do you think you wasted your time?
Definitely not. I've learned a new language, met so many people, have friends from all over the states now. I wanted to come here to understand my parent's culture.

I personally can answer that question with conviction. I've never been so sure of an answer in my life. In college, high school and sometimes in my childhood life I would get really sad sometimes. This really aching sense of loneliness would overcome me and I would just be sad. I never told anyone but people would find me crying sometimes, my aunt, my friends. Sometimes people wouldn't find me crying but I was right in front of them. I couldn't see the beauty of the people and things that surrounded me. But here in Vietnam I never cried over that type of sadness. It's different here. Me being alone here is much different than the states. I never felt that sadness.  I am content with what is in front of me. I am surprisingly very happy with my life. I am excited for the adventures to come, the reconnections I will make and also the new friends that will come into my life. Vietnam has made me happy. It has given me a warmth and familiarity that I've been seeking all my life. It has given me a piece of mind. It has allowed me to not only put together faded memories but also build new ones that are connected with that.

I know the exact bridge that my uncle fell off of as a kid. I know that he thinks my mom really disconnected from the family once she got married. I know that my dad is a really great father.  I know my mom is a social butterfly with all her friends loving her. She's a dedicated friend, a great logistics planner and an incredibly smart woman who navigated America with such tenacity that I am unsure if I could do what she did if I were in her place. I learned that I am more like my parent's that I could of ever imagined. I learned that their sense of adventure is instilled within me. I learned that I may be more Vietnamese than my parent's now. I learned that my family is a fantastic normally dysfunctional family. I learned that each of my aunts and uncles really love me. I learned that my grandpa really loves me. I learned that people can be extremely giving.

My optometrist uncle once told me that the happiest time of his life was college. It's unfortunate that his happiness is encapsulated in just four years of his youth. I hope that my happiness permeates throughout my lifetime.

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Oh hey I recently turned 24. Probably one of my best birthdays because well I'm finally content. Content with what is in front of me. Once I figured that out, everything just suddenly seems to be delightful.

When we were younger my brother and I battled over everything.

There was the two of us. In our little minds, two means that we must divide everything by half, to not do so would be like defying gravity. No dividing between our parents. Hell no, why would we do that? Only between us. Of course this resulted in fights.

My brother and I claimed our territory of food and drinks particularly the processed chemical filled sweets and drinks. My mom would only buy things with coupons so this made these type of treats really really rare.

Sunny D. Jeff and I loved our Sunny D. The pack came in 6, so we would divide three and three. One day, being the great older sister that I am I was like "fuck it" and drank a 4th one. All hell broke loose.

"KIIIIIIIIMMMM DID YOU DRINK MY SUNNY D?"
"Ummm..."
"WHAT THE HELL MAN! THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!"

My brother held that grudge for a long time so much that he held my Sunny D thievery against me as much as he could.

The last slice of pizza
You drank my Sunny D.
Fine.

The last piece of steak
You drank my Sunny D.

And it went on like this for years.

Even when it came down to these mini yogurt drinks. They came with 7 in a pack. How do we divide that you ask?

The final mini yogurt drink:

I'm going to drink half of the last yogurt drink!

No let me drink it first.

No way I'm going to drink it.

But you always drink more than half!

Whatever.

You drank my Sunny D.

It was always about "being fair." And by fair that meant we divided everything by half. Of course perhaps he clung to this because I was never fair myself. I was pretty mean.

You're stupid.

STOP CALLING ME THAT!

If you don't do this I'm going to tell mom that you (insert something trivial).

STOP BLACK MAILING ME ALL THE TIME!

Stop eating your toothpaste. There are ants in it.

Your music sucks.

Today my brother doesn't listen to me anymore unfortunately. In fact, he's learned how to block me out completely and very well actually. I mean I never did a thing to him.

I've been present in all of my brother's major accidents in his life (Except the time he cut himself carrying a mirror hah!)

When I was five and he was a baby my dad told me to watch him a bit as he ran inside the house to get something.

Jeff falls down.

I laugh really really hard.

Then I notice that Baby Jeff is bleeding profusely from his head and I freak out instantly calling my parents.

I'm in trouble.

We were jumping on the bed for fun.

Jeff falls down.

I laugh really really hard.

Then I notice that Jeff can't move at all and is laying on the floor crying. He fractured his collarbone.

I'm in trouble.

He's brushing his teeth in the restroom.

HEY JEFFREY! (opens door really fast, slams into his foot)

Jeff falls down.

I'm in trouble.

Jeff is hiding under my blankets to scare me.

I run into my room scared of ghosts and leap really hard into my bed.

Jeff cries.

I'm in trouble.

I see some patterns.

My brother and I would do stupid things together. We spent hours on our beds rolling ourselves into our blankets like tacos. That was pretty fucking entertaining actually. One time my brother got stuck.

KIM I'M STUCK!!!

I laugh really really hard.

HELP!!

I continue to laugh really really hard.

I'M NOT KIDDING!!

I just saw a Sunny D commercial and realized how ridiculous it was that we fought over high fructose products.  If you take away those products, my bullying, and Jeff's medical bills, what you will find is two kids trying to make sense of the world. Even today I actually get a twinge jealous inside if someone has a bit more than me (smarts, money, beauty, sunny d), something in my brain reverts back to my child self, thinking, "that's not fair, they get more than me" Then I let that pass and realize that I'm an adult and can handle these things. I'm learning how to be giving.

"Being fair" was so simple back then, just splitting things in half. Today notions of fair comes in different forms.

I didn't get admitted to that school.
That's not fair.

I didn't get that job.
That's not fair.

She's prettier than me.

That's not fair.

Not fair not fair who cares.

Keep it simple folks, as my 5 year old self would say "split it in half"

My room gets hot without the air conditioning on.

I am stressed at work. When I am stressed or exhausted I have this ringing in my ear, a warning if you will, telling me to just lay down. I fall asleep. Sometimes I get sad because I think I'm lazy, not diligent enough, and not on top of my shit.

I'm silly. I think my mind is thinking really silly these days because thoughts surface and go very quickly. I'm stupid. My heart is stupid. I'm overwhelmed. I'm leaving soon and I'm not sure if I'm ready to say goodbye. I'm also not ready to stay. One second I find myself on a bicycle in rural areas with little kids following me. The next I find myself falling asleep on the plane. The next I am on a motorbike. The next I am on the bus. The next I am reading emails from close friends. The next I am staring at the computer screen wanting to feel something. I log onto facebook and feel nothing. Life is confusing. The time is ticking.

I call my mom today since I haven't talked to her in a while.

Are you busy in September?
No not really, unless I find a job. But I mean I don't have to find one yet.
Do you want to go Canada? Can you go for two weeks?
Um yeah ok!

I like how mama and I will be unemployed. This will be interesting. My mama has dealt with her unemployment by traveling to Australia, Vietnam, and Texas for long periods of time. She travels to see her friends, live with them and just be. I enjoy that.

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I enjoyed a grand three day weekend full of coffee, bike rides, funky accents, a beating sun, an hour of obnoxious American music with the friends Lillian, Ai, Elliot, Tony and Phillip. I also recently got my hair permed on Tuesday with Mark and Hy. I realized that I don't talk too much about my daily activities, my friends, who I talk to and what I do. So here's a snippet and maybe you can understand why I stayed in Vietnam for two years. I have really awesome down to earth friends here, all of whom I admire. Click their names to see what they're up to.

Friday night - Number of coffee's: none; Number of cupcakes: 3


I arrive to Lillian's in Saigon after the usual 5 hour bus ride after work. I take a motorbike taxi to Lillian's. It cost me $1.50. Lillian lives on top of "Cali Steakhouse" I enjoy this fact very much. We bake cupcakes (Party Rainbow Flavor), eat lychees and drink beer. I tell Lillian to add cinnamon to the batter and it becomes fantasmic. Mark, Hy and I get delighted talking about haircuts and Art Hair Salon and we schedule a time to get our haircuts done on Tuesday when I come back. I have coupons and I want a perm.

Looking up haircuts.

The haircut I want.

Saturday early early morning - Number of coffee's: 2

With little sleep, Lillian and I wake up at 4:30 am. Our flight is at 6:40 am however we have to go pick up 4 boxes of kotex pads for our friend Ai's shelter in Hue. Each box has 900 pads. That's hella pads. However, we do anything for our friends so wearily trug out of bed and push those boxes to the airport (with the help of the taxi driver).

Talking to the airport people.
What's in these boxes?
Pads.
What?
PADS.
OH ok.

We arrive in Hue safety. For those that don't know Hue its a quaint city in the middle region of Vietnam. It's seeped in history and retains many of its temples and buildings from it's past including a gigantic nostalgic feeling citadel. I spend the rest of the day accomplishing the goals I set out for this trip: eat good food, spend time with good friends, and play with sparklers.

Chili Chili Chili everywhere.

Of course, my first Hue meal, Bun Bo.

First Hue coffee!

Coffee with ice already in the cup is called "Cafe Saigon"

Ellioto in his natural habitat

In the supermarket. Yes, there are TWO security guards to protect the hot out of the oven bread buyers. See the red baskets ready? There's actually a whole system in place, these women come buy the bread and then sell it outside for an extra 1000 VND to people who are too lazy to park and come into the supermarket. Vietnamese people are so saavy.

4th of July Party on Elliot and Ai's roof. Awesome mats.

The BBQ setup. Those are onions and garlic wrapped in foil. YUM.

View from Ai and Elliot's roof.

View to the right. Awesome lookin' church.

South Africans sure know how to bbq man. Christaan doing his thing.

Tony and his responsible ass.

FEAST.

Ai and Tony chit chattin' it up. Oh how we love eachother.

I busted out the sparkler for people of all nations to enjoy! The South Africans! The British! The Vietnamese! YAY.

Ai obviously enjoying herself to the tunes of Party in the USA.

Elliot being grumpy over our obnoxious USA play list (music nazi)

A lot of people that I don't know.

USA Crew

FEAST ATE.

Sunday - Number of coffee's: 1; Number of smoothies: 2; Number of fresh squeezed sugar cane: 1

A day of more good food and bike riding all around Hue. The hot was pretty damn hot, but a shower and smoothie later we were on the road again exploring and biking. 

Sunny side up eggs with beef!

Coffee, napkins, and cow.

Mango and papaya smoothies. This place also has this special peanut butter fruit cup with ice. I ate it before I could take a picture.

Ai clearly enjoying her smoothie.

Right outside of Hue.

Just outside of Hue. These cute kids found us amusing. I asked them to point the way back to the city, they laugh and point to the right.

Bicycle gangster chasing me, i.e. Lillian

Nhau time.

Monday - Number of coffee's: 1

Last day in Hue.  Lillian and I don't leave until late at night though but I suppose out of the revelry of the day I didn't take any photos except for the morning. We ate really good hue dishes wrapped in leaves. Ai's organization that she slaves volunteers for Friends of Hue is opening a cute cafe. Lillian and I help Ai paint a table and see her stressed. Ai yelling in a Hue accent is a pretty great site to see, too bad I didn't film it. At night we had dinner at a bomb ass vegetarian place and ate some che with the spare time we had. Then it is off to Saigon.

There are so many things on the table right now.

Lillian doing what she does best. Drinking coffee.

 Tuesday 

HAIRCUT! The pictures speak for themselves.

BEFORE

MARK!

ME!

HY!

AFTER!

40,000VND Korean POPSTAR haircut

80,000 VND ($4) FRIZZ BALL PERM

90, 000 VND Korean SUPER STAR.