Vietnam, near Mai
Lai
Electronic reflections
from a semester in Asia
China
Nepal
India
Thailand
Vietnam
United States
Date: Fri, 05 Oct 2001 07:10:41 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: the evils of mass email - China
friends and family,
sorry to address you in bulk, but i love all of you and do not have the
appropriate time to write individually i leave tomorrow from hong kong,
and
head to kathmandu, nepal. i said goodbye to china as soon as i got to hong
kong. this place hasn't been china for a long, long time. china is a
wonderful country. i have never been in a safer place in my entire life.
i
found myself lost (many times in fact) in the middle of the night, walking
through tight alleys, stepping in puddles of pee, without any clue as to
where i was, or where i was going. lost in places that i would not want
to be
found in the usa. i was never afraid people here don't think like that.
there doesn't seem to be an inclination towards crime. the air is dirty.
the
ground is dirty. the bathrooms are dirty. you get used to it. the people
are
beautiful. they are helpful. smiling. curious. are they happy? i wish i
knew.
it's the one question that i can't find an answer to. i've seen lots of
poor
people. but i've seen lots of poor people - working. they all lead sustainable
lives. not too many starving. not rich like us, but not destitute like
us
either. what is disappointing is the fact that i can see the faint (but
ever
darkening) lines of class separation here. china's slowly opening market
is
taking affect. from time to time a lexus rolls by an old woman biking
seaweed to the market, and unlike twenty years ago, the driver is not a
party official.
i cannot explain how different it feels here. even more so since i cannot
imagine what life is like at home amidst falling buildings. i saw the attack
live on tv. it happened at 8:45 at night here. the only english channel
we
had was cnn. everybody was watching casually as we prepared to enjoy xi'an
by
night. needless to say, we stayed home. i know these attacks have changed
my lifetime. they have already changed the plans of this trip. india is
being rescheduled. they may send us home early. they better not. (mother
don't worry. i'm am safer here than at home).
i miss china already. the people here take pictures of me. they practice
english on me. they touch, and giggle at, my tattoo. they ride bicycles,
everywhere. and small motorcycles. beer is less than fifty cents. for a
big
ass bottle. i can eat lunch for a quarter. people smile a lot. even if
they
are barefoot. the mountains are different than anything i've every seen.
the tap water is brown. my freshly washed clothes smell like fish. i eat
tofu at every meal. the planes here stay far away from buildings. i got
bit
by a snake, six times. not kidding. six times. once on the nose. really.
i
was at a restaurant where they served live snake. my buddies ordered one.
i
was playing with it and thanking it for dying for my dumb tourist friend's
appetites, and the little bastard bit me, six times. big fangs too. really
big when they're like one inch from your face. the restaurant erupted in
panic. my nose bled everywhere. so when they cut the snake's head off and
mixed it with rice wine, i had to drink some. he drank mine...
i've been taking larium (an anti malaria drug). i can't begin to tell you
the dreams i've been having. i'm almost to the point that i would prefer
to
have malaria. i'll put it this way: when i get up in the morning the first
thing i do is check to make sure i only have two eyes, and make damn sure
i
don't have a tail. not only wierd dreams, but vivid and real. very real,
scary real. makes up for the lack of chinese street drugs, i guess. new
dylan record is wonderful. old mingus shines brightly under the chinese
coal burning haze. only have 15 cds to choose from. miss every song i can't
hear.
trying hard not to kill my tour mates. thirty kids i don't know for a good
reason. can't imagine what they think of me. try not to. found a few good
ones, though. and the professors are really excellent. love what i'm doing,
but miss you all dearly. tell "W" not to kill anybody 'till i
get through india. strike that. tell him not to kill anybody, ever.
see you soon, have a good autumn.
love from china,
nikolas
Date: Wed, 24 Oct 2001 08:55:35 EDT
Subject: Nepal
Friends and family,
I'm sitting now in a dingy basement, in front of perhaps one of three
computers in the entire city of Bodh Gaya. Outside the window I can hear
the Islamic Call to Prayer floating away from the city and calling to
workers in the fields. I have been in India now for perhaps a week. I
hesitate to reflect on this place yet as I have a bit of time left to take
things in. I can say that life here is much different from life in China.
Nepal is different as well.
The Nepalese climate has been by far the most favorable. Hot during the
daylight, and instantly cool past sunset. The people are friendly. The
people have been so friendly everywhere. Eager to help, and so passionate
about their countries and villages. Proud of their world. The food
throughout this journey has been wonderful. In Nepal I find no exception.
The single downfall is the unavoidable wait behind eating a meal. Most
restaurants have but a single burner. Eating routinely takes two hours.
I
have learned to carry reading material with me everywhere. I spent some
time in the lower Himalayas, wandering along footpaths and staring at the
faint outlines of mountain tops. These peaks are so tall. They resemble
the
rockies, however they sit so much higher in the sky. They fill me with
a
feeling of otherworldliness. Huge mountains, older than time, resting
quietly in the background like pictures or gods or anything too great for
me to touch. And hawks everywhere. Hundreds, floating quietly overhead,
keeping an eye on me and the mountains.
I stopped taking Larium (the anti-malaria drug). It was making me crazy
while I was awake as well as asleep. Don't ever take this drug. It makes
you think the sunset is out to get you. Instead I'm on Dioxicyclene, which
I noticed in the paper today is a remedy for Anthrax. Yippie.
My most recent, and favorable, interaction with the wildlife came in
the southern low lying area of Nepal, the Terai. The jungle. For a few
days
I had a frog living in my toilet, and half a dozen lizards occupying
various corners of the room. We got along enough, as these animals seemed
to possess a non-violent, and more importantly, a non-biting manner of
living. There was something exciting about sleeping within a box of
mosquito netting. We spent one morning riding an elephant through the
jungles of Chitwan National Forest. I sat safely atop the pachyderm
watching six or seven rhinos take a morning bath in a mud puddle. We also
rode along side tiger tracks, and saw deer, wild parrots, and an obscenely
large puddle of rhino pee. It resembled fluorescent yellow milk. I fear
my
rhino friend may have been carrying an std.
Later the very same day I rented a motorcycle and set off through the
jungle looking for tigers and rhinos. The most dangerous aspect of the
trip
was not confrontation with the wildlife, but the death trap motorcycle
they
sent me out on. (the bike) never made it back to its owner. The engine
melted about two miles from its home.
The Terai was the first highly unindustrialized area I stayed in. People
live in mud houses, carry hay around by shoulder or lofted high atop their
heads, and don't get enough to eat. It served as an appropriate buffer
to
India. Nepal is poor in a much different way than China. The Chinese do
receive some semblance of care from their government. Not so in Nepal.
Much
worse in India. I will Write about India after I leave. Luckily, I have
some time left here.
We are traveling through the southwestern areas of India to avoid
Muslim conflict. I feel absolutely safe. The first I heard of the current
conflict between India and Pakistan was via an email from home. The people
here seem unconcerned with any event that doesn't affect their ability
to
feed their family. We will not, however, be traveling to Singapore or
Malaysia. Fear of Muslims, and such a shame. Instead we may add Laos and
a
few more days in Thailand. Oh, the sacrifices we must make.
I know this has been rather long, but internet access has become
increasingly scarce, and I wanted to take advantage of what may be a last
opportunity for a while. I enjoy hearing from you all a great deal. I wish
I could respond to you as individuals, but it is just not practical. Please
do write me if you wish. This place I am in is not real. A dream. A
hiccough in my lifeline. It is easy to forget who I am. Sometimes Coltrane
reminds me, sometimes it's Iggy Pop, but hearing from home works the best.
I feel especially far away when I hear of the state of uneasiness that
has
gripped the western world. I simply can't imagine what life at home feels
like now. I think I'm glad I'm here, though.
Take care.
Happy Halloween.
nikolas
Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2001 09:35:26 EST
Subject: India
Friends & Family,
These reflections on India have been a long time coming. It has taken
me nearly a month to formulate my thoughts and organize my impressions.
I
still don't feel entirely ready.
India is poor. Really, really poor. It was the most challenging and
draining experience of my life. We crossed the boarder from Nepal by foot.
The peace that blessed me in Nepal vanished the moment I set foot in India.
Everything became an ordeal. From walking down the street to moving by
bus,
nothing went smoothly. An apparent four hour bus ride took eighteen hours.
We spent five days in Bodh Gaya (the land of Buddha's enlightenment),
instead of a scheduled two, because we couldn't find a way out of town.
We
all got sick. Everyone grew up.
In China we stood out because we were white. In India we stood out
because we were rich. I was a walking dollar bill sign, and I was hounded
by shop owners, peddlers, and beggars. The thing is you don't need or want
what they have to sell. But these people only eat if I buy. And it tears
at
your soul. At first you try to tell yourself that in India, you have a
lot
of money, but at home you are not a rich man. But you realize that it may
take an Indian a year to make enough money to buy the shoes on your feet.
So you buy like ten sea shell key rings, and then leave them in the hotel
when you travel on.
How do you turn away a leper? And where do you place a coin in a hand
with no fingers? And how do you ignore a hoard of starving children
scratching at the windows of your bus?
Somehow you do. Conversations will continue without a hitch as you
step over a family sleeping on the sidewalk. You notice the family. Your
heart pains for the family. But the father sleeping, the mother sleeping,
the brother and sister sleeping, just begin to blend in with the dozens
and
dozens of similar scenes you encounter every day. Consciousness doesn't
evaporate, it simply numbs and changes. These sights stick with me, and
it
is here that I find hope.
I have so many stories about India. Not all so riveting or melancholy.
Fighting ten foot waves in the Bay of Bengal. Riding a train sitting across
from a guy who looked exactly like Saddam Hussein (turned out to be a nice
guy who shared way too much Indian rum with me). Livestock, everywhere.
Cows always in the way. A rickshaw driver who offered to give me a ride
to
Afghanistan. A boy named Kallu who took me for a ride on his scooter into
the mountains to visit his old village. Later he asked me to pay for a
year
of his schooling. I did.
One afternoon I went to the ocean searching for a moment and an
atmosphere of peace in which to do some writing. Not a chance. I was
instantly surrounded by peddlers. I ended up buying a huge diamond from
one
man simply to appease his desperation and reward his wrenching tenacity.
I
have no idea what "stone" I bought, but it happens to be the most beautiful
ten dollar diamond in the world. I fed his family for a week.
At some point it catches up with you. The desperation becomes too
much. The friendliness stops. You begin talking in gibberish so the locals
will give up from confusion. Some days, especially bad days, you lose your
patience and temper. You shout at a child. You yell at a man crawling after
you with legs bent up around his back. Then, hours later, you sit in a
hotel room and fight to regain respect for yourself.
But I met a girl on a train traveling to Bubaneshware who spoke
excellent (and very kind) english, was studying business, and had been
named
Monalisa. She was a rarity in India as far as privilege. Still quite poor,
but a student, and possessed some tangible notion of a future. A sincere
friend. Played her the Dylan line about Monalisa's highway blues and that
way that she smiles. The Monalisa I spoke to returned a smile much more
severe. She was a friend for a night, and added much dimension to my
feelings of India.
Regardless of motivation the people everywhere are kind. Indians are
proud of their country. They are proud of their families. They struggle
like no people I've ever seen. They get by, but just barely. Just barely.
Not as many smiles in India as in China and Nepal. Not as safe. The food
is
good, but eventually it comes down to what flavor mush you feel like that
night. The flavors are green, brown, and spicy. Five star restaurants give
you a choice of crumbly or chewy chunks in your green, brown, or spicy
mush. I'm sure the music is great. But similar to pop music at home, Indian
pop is tremendously annoying. Melt your brain annoying. Things close down
early, and beer is expensive. And finally, it's really hot outside. Ninety
degrees in the shade. What's it like at home?
Thailand was a blast. I'll fill you in soon. Currently I'm in Hanoi.
Vietnam is wonderful. Can't wait to tell you about it.
Love you all,
Happy late Thanksgiving,
Happy late birthday brother,
See you all in a matter of weeks.
nikolas
Subject: Thailand
Friends & family,
I’m in Saigon now. Chaotic streets and troubled history. These adventures
are winding down. India, China live somewhere far off in the past.
Spent three weeks in Thailand. By far the most comfortable three
weeks yet. A slightly welcome change following the impacts of a severe
Indian experience.
Thailand is beautiful. Different from each of the places I’ve been to.
We’ve traveled through mostly large urban areas. Bangkok is a crazy place.
Everything goes. I avoided the sex shows, but I did wander through
the red light area. Underdressed women yelling at overdressed men.
Went to a kick-boxing match. Skinny boys fighting for hours.
It wasn’t as gruesome as I would have expected. The children simply didn’t
have enough weight to throw around. I won some money on a few of the
fights. Spent most of the winnings on tee shirts supporting, and bearing
the likeness of, Osama Bin Laden. Scary, quite. And yet important
none the less. Hatred of American policy seems to be so strong that
people will rally behind any monster who represents any opposition.
The food in Thailand is exceptional. Hot as hell, cheap, and readily
available. I can’t stop eating, there is simply food everywhere.
Thailand is only a few years removed from a military dictatorship. There
does seem to be an uneasy balance of peace here. The people are poor, and
they simply want to lead safe lives. I get the feeling that they don’t want
trouble - make a conscious effort to avoid conflict. A boy from our
group was threatened with jail the other day after making a public comment
about the queen’s drinking habit. Any such slander is apparently a
federal offense. I wonder how freely you can speak at home? I
get the sense that opinions are not in favor these days. Gagged by the flag.
We were privileged with a mini-vacation on the island of Koh Samet.
A few days without travel or classes (at least I didn’t go to class).
I saw the sun rise and set everyday. Absolutely beautiful here. Very few
people, quite a bit of swimming, and time for reflection. Beginning to dread
the end of these travels.
Thailand is very western. There is lots of English and lots of shopping.
The Buddhist temples are elaborate, golden, and gaudy. The blend of spirituality
and commerce is bizarre. Buddhism pushes people away from material
greed and towards an honest and simple understanding. Yet everywhere
is western product, pace, and money. The people here exist somewhere
in between. The sensibility is peaceful. Material obsession can’t
reach an American level; it is financially implausible for the Thai people.
I think the desire is growing, and to me, it is a sad reality. Of course
this comes from an American living sufficiently out of a backpack, while
at home sits a roomful of boxes filled with items I can’t remember.
When I get home, it all goes (minus the books and music).
And I’ll be home soon enough.
So for now, goodbye.
nikolas.
Subject: Vietnam
Friends & family,
Los Angeles, America. I'm so close to the end. Still I want to write before
Vietnam is lost in the insanity of my forthcoming life at home. Vietnam.
I am not sure where to begin. For the first time on this journey I am in
a country that I am connected to due to my Americanism. Obviously it is an
unpleasant connection. The struggles in China, the starvation in India, the
capitalist casualties in Thailand. I could observe these places and feel
slightly objective. China's struggles are primarily internal, and rooted
in population. India's history is strangled by the British. The western influence
of detriment to Thailand lies in Europe. Vietnam finds itself a wounded country
still living in the shadow of the American War. I cannot believe what we
did to these people. Maybe harder to believe is the kindness these same people
demonstrate towards me, regardless of history. While perhaps unfounded, I
feel a awkward and personal responsibility to this place. I have been thinking
a lot about that war. Thinking a lot about the violence committed by boys
my age. I recognize the privilege of my situation that allows me to walk
the streets of Saigon and Denang without carrying a rifle. I have seen countryside
scattered with overgrown craters left by our bombs. I have seen mass graves
bordering villages of farmers. I have seen shades of Afghanistan in the Vietcong
tunnels of Cu-chi. We waged war against farmers. And yet the people smile,
and struggle, and continue to work the land they fought so hard to secure.
And it is beautiful land. Mountains to the west running wide and spilling
into the warm current of a pacific coastline. It has been cloudy here often,
and very warm. Far fewer temples during this final duration. Heavy on the
museums. Several are dedicated to the wars of independence fought between
Vietnam and France and America. The exhibits are not usually so heavy into
propaganda. They don't have to be. The atrocities committed by the Vietnamese
opponents speak for themselves. One day in Hanoi I ventured to an out of
season amusement park. The rides were closed, however they opened the park
up just for us. Four of us (and our cab driver) spent the afternoon stumbling
through desolate, and fairly antique, carnival rides. Imagine four people
in the bumper cars. Four people on a Ferris-wheel. Four people on the octopus.
It was very strange, but very fun. Spent another day motorcycling up the
side of a mountain and into a cloud. Apparently the view from the top was
as spectacular a view as you can find in most of the world. All I could see
was cloud. Strolled along China beach. Visited the Hanoi Hilton. Was closed
out of seeing uncle Ho resting peacefully in glass. (Apparently he had been
sent to Russia for a tune-up). One day along the beach in Nha Trang I ate
crab, lobster, shrimp, and mussels. Each had been fished from the ocean and
steamed up for me as I sat in the sand and wished that this trip would never
end.
This is ending. I am overwhelmed. I'm coming home.
See you soon.
nikolas
Subject: Home
Everyone,
I am home now. Michigan. Snow. Deodorant. More than two pairs of pants.
The final weeks abroad and the first few at home have been a challenge.
I often find myself turning inward, and spending more time alone. Reflecting
and digesting. Days are hazy and unreal. The trip is very much a dream.
My largest impression has been that we are all so much the same.
Human desires are similar and fundamental. Regardless of culture,
the need for health and safety persists. The obstacles that prevent their
guarantee are so selfish. I can’t believe that Americans still starve.
We have so much more than the Asians, yet poverty still plagues our people.
The people in Asia struggle in unison. They battle the hunger together.
The American drive towards individuality has left so many behind.
In Asia, with what little they have, they take care of each other. At home
we have so much more to give, and yet we do not. This is what I have
learned. I would rather strive in Vietnam than thrive in America. One
of these lifestyles maintains a human’s honor.
For the first time in my life I feel that I can observe America with some
objectivity. I’m much more aware of the line that separates cultural
phenomena from human commonality. Christmas lights adorning roof lines
no longer seem normal. It is as unusual a display as incense burning at
the feet of Shiva on a corner shop’s counter top. Scraping the ice
from my windshield recently it struck me just how unique an activity it
is. A sort of Nordic reality. Strange to see such a trivial action
as a unique part of my culture.
The food my mother makes never incorporates rice. Often pasta, but
never rice. This never seemed special before.
I appreciate things differently as well. Brushing my teeth with water
from a tap is marvelous indeed.
I look like everybody else.
Traffic laws blow my mind.
People here have so much.
Once when I was in China, I spent an afternoon telling students how I was
an American, and how I didn’t believe in war and how I didn’t support violent
retaliation against a generally peaceful population. And how violence cannot
be used to punish violence. And that violence is always evil. I heard George
W. Bush say the same thing on television the other night. I wonder
if any of those students believed me.
In Bodh Gaya, on the trail leading up the side of a mountain to the cave
where Buddha fasted for four years, I was accosted by men and boys selling
crackers. I didn’t want any crackers. They were not good crackers. I was
not hungry. I didn’t want any crackers. They didn’t understand.
They couldn’t see why I wouldn’t buy when I had money. They looked
at me painfully and asked, “why you no buy?” They pleaded, “please buy just
one. Why no buy? Just one. Please.” I didn’t want any crackers.
I never rode a rick-shaw. I couldn’t bring myself to be peddled around
by a starving person. I often took taxis instead. But one day
I noticed the frustration in the face of a rick-shaw driver as I passed
him up to ride in a taxi. Regardless of my feelings, he needed me
to ride with him. My feeling uncomfortable was costing him livelihood.
What would you do?
nikolas
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