Leaving Vietnam - and there's my Dad

As I sat in the park now, soaking up my last hour of Vietnam and watching some middle aged men play soccer, I thought of my father. I thought of how if he were here, he would have jumped right into that game with the glee and confidence of a 5 year old. He would have kicked ass, and the Vietnamese would have loved him!

I realized sitting there that Vietnam is in many ways a personification of my father, and of my relationship to him: often rough, crass and serious on the outside, yet so gentle, playful and generous...if you give him some time. Or approach him in the right way.

And this to me was Vietnam: at times infuriating, a place where I felt I had to have my guard up - just like with my dad - and yet also so rich, and warm, and wonderful - just like my dad.

My father died suddenly 8 and a half years ago. I still miss him, and I always will, as the tears welling up in my eyes confess.

In the park, it sunk just a bit deeper that my war with him - like the war that ravaged Vietnam - is over. And I realized - remembered? - as well that my father is here with me.

He is in every man who has negotiated so shrewdly and then drove me somewhere on his motorbike with such enthusiasm, and even love. He is in every Vietnamese person who has stared out at the street as if suffering, but then returned the biggest smile when looked at for more than 3 seconds. He is in the grit of this place and the beauty. He is in the incessant noise and the enlivening bustle.

And of course, he is in me. And though he wounded me in some big ways, he also gave me so much.

It's because of him that I can learn a city in 2 days. It's he who taught me how to bargain and find the best deals.

It's his spirit that emboldens me to join soccer games with people so different than me. To give travel advice with such joy. To love the history of this place.

It's by his example I learned to look a cripple in the eyes, or to visit a war museum, and to not look away in disgust but instead to feel the suffering of others with compassion.

I believe it's my father who in large part gave me my love of life. Perhaps it's even his strength and spirit that help keep me safe.

So Aba, thank you. You gave me so much and I love you always.

And Vietnam, thank you! Thank you for being so alive, for welcoming me, for the smiles and the food and your vibrant, rich nature. I'm so glad I gave you a chance.

I feel drawn to return one day. In any case, we're friends now, and I'll miss you.

Much love,
Roni

Cholon: Saigon's Chinatown

Two days ago, I hopped on the back of a motorbike and cruised 4 miles through Saigon's busy streets to Cholon, Saigon's China Town. It's a rather large, and as you'd expect, bustling area, full of markets and people and small shops peddling everything from lanterns and woks to locs, copper tubing, paint, fabric - you name it and you can find it there. I loved wandering the streets and alleys and not seeing any white people for long stretches of time. Just getting absorbed into the place, and yet somehow being totally anonymous. I enjoyed some great local food, as well as a milk tea and tapioca ball drink, which I was introduced to back in Berkeley maybe five years ago. Yum! And what I found amazing about Cholon is that amidst the bustle live beautiful old Pagodas. You walk in and suddenly find yourself in a different world, of stillness, beauty, shrines, prayer, incense and chirping birds. What a wonderful adventure!

I Score in Saigon!

OK mom, please do not read this post. It is WAY racey.

So I scored in Saigon, multiple times!

Goals. Soccer goals!

Oh I can hear the chorus of groans. I'm sorry, I had to.

So sports in Vietnam. Like the Thai's they share this stunning peninsula with, the Vietnamese seem into their sports. And every evening I've been joining in the fun.

100 feet away from my sweet little hotel is a park, and in that park every early evening local guys play soccer. 5 days ago I sat and watched, and was quickly invited in to play.

It's been super fun. Like every country except the US, soccer is a big passion here, and most guys can play well.

It's been a great way to get some exercise. And to connect with Vietnamese people.

Soccer is so the glue that holds humanity together. One day if I'm ever kidnapped in Afghanistan or the Sudan or something (mom, stop reading!), I think the difference between a long imprisonment (with eventual release) and a quick summary execution will be my ability to play soccer with the guards. You know, they'll sort of kick over a tray of gruel, and despite my weakened state, I'll kind of flip the tray up in the air with my foot and catch the bowl and kind of make a little head fake move, like, "Let's play, guard! Yeah, I'm American, and yeah, I play soccer. I'm just like you!" And then the guard will be caught off guard, so to speak, and smile, and then realize, "Shit, I can't give up this guard front with the American." And then he'll clutch his AK-47 and frown again. But the gig will be up by then.

Failing that, it could also be help from my friend Todd, who works in intelligence, who saves me. (No one tell!).

I will close by summarizing some differences between how Americans play sports and how the Vietnamese do. So, thanks for reading, ladies. Guys, here it is:

Now except for 'Hello', 'Boom Boom' and 'Thank you,' I don't speak Vietnamese. But as far as I can tell, there is no trash talking whatsoever on the field. None. And there is never anger. If someone makes a clumsy move, often he will giggle like a school girl, as will his friends. For 3 seconds. And then they move on. Also they are super welcoming on the field, like anyone can join in. And there's such a natural flow to it all - to games starting and ending and new teams joining in.

It's fucking great. We have a few things to learn. OK I have a few things to learn.

Oh and when the game is over, it happens so abruptly. They disappear, like Charlie in the jungle. I'm left standing there with my M-16, fucking stunned that - wait, sorry that was a flashback.

In any case, it's been super fun to play and score goals and make assists and smile and give high fives. It's also inspiring me to join a league when I get back to the US.

Alright peeps, soon to bed,
much love to you,
Roni

ps - Talk about scoring, last night yet another prostitute offered me her services. I look at her and say, "How old are you?" She's like, "20". I'm like, "Yeah, sure. You're 16 sweetie." She sort of rolls her eyes. Otherwise I would have been all over that shit.

Mom!

Things I've Seen on Bikes

Here is an abbreviated list of things I've seen strapped to the back of motorbikes (most under 125ccs - pretty much a lawnmower with a padded seat) in Vietnam, as well as 2 and 3-wheeled bicycles:
* Dried squid for sale
* Giant boxes
* Massive rolls of fabric
* Huge bags of rice
* Large jugs of water
* Hundreds of CDs for sale (always at night, with music playing)
* 3 humans (in addition to the driver) (unstrapped)
* Drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes (also unstrapped)
* Massive baskets of fruit for sale
* Bundles of sugar cane
* I swear to God, as this picture attests, a really big refrigerator
* A fucking cow (this a friend saw - he swore, no shit)

Feel free to chime in with anything you may have seen. Kitchen sink perhaps?

Tennis, Swimming, Soccer and an Outrageous Dinner in Saigon

Day two, and I am loving this place just as much, if not more. It's so much more modern and cosmopolitan than I imagined.

After breakfast and my morning stretching/exercise routine, I found a local KFC, bought a picture of Ho Chi Mihn, and interviewed local people, as well as a grumpy tourist, about the uncanny resemblance between Uncle Ho and the Colonel, and if that might explain why KFC is the only Western fast food chain in Vietnam. I got some great footage - of kids feeding me, of a cop sort of chasing me, of the manager denying everything... LOL.

After my little film shoot, I went back to the local tennis club I found yesterday, and paid the pro (who I was better than, and also about a foot taller than) 9 bucks to hit with me for an hour. The heat and humidity killed me, but it was super fun to play tennis for the first time in 3 months - though it didn't hold a candle to my tennis buds back home Onno and Jamie! Yeah, you know.

I befriend the 70 year old guy who runs the show there. We talk for a while, and he tells me about how he used to teach Thai Chi to US Military Policemen! He's super nice, and helps me get in the adjacent pool. It costs 80 cents, plus 20 cents for the swimsuit I was forces to rent. Gross! I'm certainly the only white guy there. I buy my Vietnamese friend an ice coffee and me steak and fries, and swim some.

I hop a motorbike home, and the guy drives like a Mario Andretti on crack - for real - and I fucking love it. Twice he hopped the curb to take a short cut - on the sidewalk! All you can do is enjoy it.

After my fourth shower of the day, I head to a nearby park, and some local guys invite me to join their soccer game, which was super, super fun. I scored two goals and had some nice assists - in flip flops! Go Krouzman.

This required shower number 5, then a walk back to aerobics square, and an amazing, amazing dinner with my German friends. We sat outside around a low wooden table amidst tropical plants and surrounding a beautiful colonial building. The place was packed with locals and a good amount of tourists too. We ordered 10 dishes and shared them. Amazing spring rolls, grilled squid, 2 soups, rice pancakes with shrimp, chicken...and oh god the dessert! It looked like testicles in cream sauce, but tasted much better. ;-)

Then we walked a ton through this awesome city, and got pedaled home in 3 Cyclos (a guy rides a bike and you sit in a sort of chariot in front of him). These guys were so sweet, and gave us a little tour, pointing out cool things like the old hotels, and the former US embassy in Saigon, a very important piece of military history. And the best thing is, they didn't really try to rip us off!

And now, my friends, it is off to bed. My body is beat - perhaps a massage tomorrow? I may also go dance at night. And maybe, just maybe, strike up a conversation with one of these Saigonese beauties. I'll be sure to keep you posted.

Much love,
Roni

15 Hours in Sultry Saigon

I arrived in Saigon yesterday morning at 10am, and I am so glad I'm here. Right away I felt a sense of warmth, activity and openness that I hadn't felt in any other Vietnamese urban area. Saigon feels a lot to me like New York in summer time, which I love.

That feeling has proven to be true. I really like this place a lot.

My first day was great! I hung out with sweet fellow travelers, walked the awesome streets and alleys, jammed with some local kids and old people, and even got to spend some time with a former Colonel in the North Vietnamese Army!

It pretty much started good right away. After sharing a cab with two Israeli-Americans, Ben and Ricky, I get turned away from one hotel (good - got a bad vibe there anyway) and find a sweet place down a relatively quiet (for Vietnam, anyway! OK as I right this some major drilling activity starts. Vietnam is NEVER quiet, not where people live anyway) little alley in the center of the action.

I go for a stroll, bump into Ben, and we sit down for some Pho - the traditional Vietnamese noodle soup, which I love! Ben and I shoot a few "Vietnam's Fledgling Tourism Industry Safety Videos" (I've shot a dozen now), including one about the ridiculously dangerous bundles of electric wires that seem to hang over you at all times in Saigon, and why this is actually a good thing.

We keep walking and I come across a stunning woman in a sundress. Oh my. I'm like, I have to talk to her. So I circle back. And she circles back. Hmmm...

I launch into some witty little comment relating to the video I just shot, and without missing a beat she responds with an equal measure of whit. The Brits are great like that.

Then she asks me my name and says, "Got time for a drink?"

"Uh, yes. Yes I do." Even though I don't really drink and it's like 1pm.

In any case me and Ben and sundress girl skip the drink and go for a walk. We come across a high school gym class getting tested on their badminton skills. It's just as pointless as the gym class you remember, except it was badminton instead of pull ups (which I fucking sucked at. Got to retake that test now! Oh Krouzman...).

In any case, I hop in and say, "Can I try?!"

They're stoked! I'm about to hit the little shuttlecock (LOL) when the main Frau Farbisana gym teacher with the red whistle comes over and waves me off :-( Former Viet Cong for sure. Well she would have had to have been 2 years old, but you get the point. I think. OK so not everyone in Saigon is warm.

But many people are! We keep strolling. I lose the girl. I'm pissed. Ah fuck it. Ben and I sit on normal sized people chairs (wow!) and drink cokes from a bottle (with a straw, as they are all rusty here - hmmmm...) as we watch the world go by.

Then it's peace out Ben, and I go to a park, and...my god...these people are from San Francisco or New York! I mean they're not. But they might as well be.

An old man who looks like Ho Chi Mihn / Colonel Sanders is playing the Mandolin, another is playing violin and guitar, and lots of young people are gathered round watching and singing.

As soon as Ho see me, he says, "Hello! Where are you from?!" That's the standard greeting to Westerners here, whether you really want to get to know them, just practice some English, or harass them to buy something.

I take the chance and head over and we talk and he's great. But right away he stops playing the Vietnamese music he was playing (and people were diggin'), and asks me if I want to sing a song. Uh, OK! A bit embarrassed I hobble over and sit.

And then he starts to play the Star Spangled Banner, and makes me sing with him, and I do, and it's quite embarrassing and strange and also fun! Then we keep jammin' and everyone's great, talking to me (when they can) and singing Vietnamese songs.

After that, I stroll Saigon some more, and I love it. Millions of people on motorbikes, like swarms, in a very modern, open, warm city.

I hop on the back of a motorbike and get off at a square at a tip of a park, just near a major traffic circle (sort of like Central Park meets Columbus Circle). People are everywhere, including a few dozen doing...aerobics! It was so fun in Thailand, and I couldn't resist, so I joined in, much to the delight of the Vietnamese onlookers!

After 10 minutes on the humid heat, I took a seat next to an old Vietnamese man. He turns to me, and in French, he asks me if I speak French. Yes, I say, and we speak in French for a good 30 minutes.

What a sweet, gentle man. Turns out he was in the North Vietnamese army for 30 years, fighting both the French and the Americans. He was a colonel of an anti-aircraft unit he said shot down 90 US planes. Wow - a walking piece of history.

He gave me his number and his address and invited me to come by sometime to talk some more. The few people who speak French in Vietnam are generally older people, and they seem to love to practice.

Later on I sat on a street side tiny little eatery / beer place. Just little plastic chairs and tables on the sidewalk, basically, in a busy part of town. I order a beer (!) and nurse it in the balmy night, eating peanuts and a delicious plate of beef and noodles. I strike up a conversation with the 4 French guys to my left. They were great, and I love speaking French! It's actually improved a ton since I arrive in this part of the world, as there are many French travelers.

Then back to my guest house, and out for a drink and dessert with Ben and Ricky. We sit next to a young German couple, and hit it off right away. That, and the bar is playing basically all our favorite songs from the late 80s and early 90s, including Guns and Roses. The German girl and I were singin' - and laughin' - it up!

A fun night, and great way to end my first long, rich day in Saigon!

Love,
Roni

ps - the women here are stunning. Just stunning.

Hoi An, Vietnam

Constant harrassment and tourist kitch aside, I find Hoi An, Vietnam to be quite stunning.

Hoi An is located on Vietnam's central coast, at the confluence of two rivers I think, 3 miles from the Pacific Ocean. Spared from the war in large part, the city retains an old-world charm I'm not sure you can find anywhere else in Vietnam.

Narrow winding alleys. Small shops. River boats. Pagodas. Artisan workshops.

Yes, it's geared in large part to tourists, but hey, god job peeps! It's really beautiful here.

Peeps, I'm Tired & I need a Vacation

Yes it's true. It's hitting me.

Part of it is being on the road for so long. It takes its toll.

I'm constantly on the move. I've cooked one meal in 6 and a half weeks. I barely do sports. There is no such thing as quiet. There are no close friends. I don't even have a room for more than a few days. And then there's the tummy stuff.

There are certainly huge benefits to most of this growth-wise. But it is also taking its toll.

Also I must say Vietnam is beginning to drive me fucking insane. It is like Israel on crack. It makes Israel seem like a Montessori pre-school.

I mean I love this place, and I am so eager to explore it, but I have never, ever, in my life even come close to seeing this level of shameless chutzpa. The way many Vietnamese incessantly harrass tourists, and pull every trick in the book to scam them, is sad and very, very annoying to me.

I'm trying to let it go. Maybe I'll be able too, because again there is so much here and so much more I want to see. But one literally cannot walk down the street more than 20 feet without being harassed to buy something, hop on a motorbike, eat at a restaurant.

This sucks. They smile and say, "Hello!" and then do the sell. Or worse, "Where are you from?"

Fuck people don't sell your souls and your beautiful smiles for a buck. Please don't.

And they just don't stop. They physically block you with their bodies. Block you. Try to anyway.

I've figured out a way to get by with them just asking once, rather than the standard 3 - 5 times, but it requires being a dick. And I don't want to be a dick! Especially not on my vacation.

Plus there is the nonstop noise of Vietnam. Constant honking, clanging...whatever noise you can imagine.

Look I'm not trying to be negative here. Just honest.

I know there is a lot more to Vietnam. I know there's cultural stuff and my stuff and all that. I know I'm priviledged to be here.

And still, despite my efforts, this is taking a toll.

In an effort to get some R&R, today I checked myself into a nice hotel with a sweet room with a veranda, and a pool, and got at least some quiet and poolside chill time. Check it!

It's funny I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation.

Maybe I need to find a nice beach and just sit there for a few days. Or a woman. Actually both. Yes that would probably help.

It's an interesting place to be in. I don't want to come home yet. There's so much more I want to see and do here in Asia. At least right now, though, I feel like I may be running out of steam. Oh but the islands of Thailand! Them I must see. At least one.

Alright peeps,
much love,
Roni

ps - In addition to bitching, today I also strolled through the amazing city of Hoi An, made friends with a funny 6 year old from Australia, and ate a delicious dinner of shrimp dumplings, fish stew, eggplant with prawns, and white rice. So yum! Plus the pool felt goooood.

Hue, Vietnam: Royal Grounds, War, and Young People

I just spent a day and a half exploring the city of Hue (prounounced, 'Hway'), in Vietnam. It was the seat of the old royal court back in the day.

The centerpiece is the royal compound, an area around 1.5 miles by 1.5 miles, surrounded by a large wall and, in royal fashion, a moat. There's a large citadel, which now flies the Vietnamese flag, and inside the wall, many beautiful buildings and gardens. Really nice.

To various degrees, it's almost all been reconstructed, because it turns out Hue was the scene of intense fighting during the US-Vietnam war. The further south I travel in this country, the more I reach cities that were major flashpoints.

As someone who has always loved history, and is especially interested in this war, it's quite fascinating. Tanks filled the streets. North Vietnamese troops were actually hunkered down inside the walls of the royal compound. Then, US troops. And then, as the tide turned, North Vietnamese troops once again.

My second night in town, I had dinner at the Mandarin Cafe, which is owned by an amatuer photographer, Mr. Cu, who served as a firefighter for the US military in the early 1970s. At his restaurant, he showed me a book featuring photographs - including 3 of battles in Hue - taken by journalists who died covering the war. It was very moving. Crazy, terrible, captivating photos.

The more I've been reading about the war, and the more I've been talking to people about it, the more complex - and surprising - it seems to me.

I came here not really doubting that the vast majority of Vietnamese supported the liberation movement. I'm not sure, but from what I'm reading and seeing it seems that most people were simply stuck in the middle - as civilians always are - and just wanted to stay alive.

Many Vietnamese who aided the Viet Cong (the Communist guerilla movement that worked in tandem with the North Vienamese military) did so it seems more out of fear of reprisal than out of support for the communist cause. And many Vietnamese supported the US-backed Saigon regime.

Of course, the reverse is true as well. Many Vietnamese supported the liberation movement, and many aided the US out of fear. Or, in Mr. Cu's case, for money.

I'm reading about Cambodia as well - the war engulfed that country, as well as Laos. And the same seems to be true: civilians caught between brutal forces, civilians who just wanted to go on with their lives.

This isn't to say one side is not preferable to the other. And of course I don't believe US involvement in Vietnam was just or sensible.

But I am getting a fuller picture, I think. And what a place to do it. 40 years ago, those manicured lawns I walked in Hue were full of rubble, trenches, fox holes, troops and artillery. Now the citadel flies the Vietnamese Communist flag. Crazy.

Love Roni

ps - This morning I woke up pretty early, rented a bicycle, and rode around the less touristy part of Hue. I wandered through markets and narrow alleys, and past rice paddies, local houses and eateries.

At one point I heard lots of cheering and thought, "I need to go in there!" There turned out to be Hue University, and the students were hosting a tug of war. They were SO excited.

A group of them came up to me, did the customary giggle & sweet smile thing, and then invited me into their 'club', a room where we sat and talked for a while. They were interested in my impressions of Vietnam. I was interested in their perspectives on US-Vietnam relations (given our history) and on Vietnam's development.

Like every Vietnamese person I've talked too, they all seem to like America and want to build a peaceful future, not talk about a terrible past. They also strongly support Vietnam's industrial development, and yet, to my surprise, felt strongly that Vietnam must protect its environment while doing so.

There may be more lurking beneath the surface here, but so far I've witnessed a widespread uniformity of opinion amongst the Vietnamese. That's all for now from anthropologist Krouzman.

6 Weeks In: A Hero's Journey?

It's been a month and a half since I arrived somewhat dazed, a bit scared and quite excited in Bangkok. Wow how time has flown by.

6 weeks later, I'm in Hanoi, Vietnam, about to travel by plane to Hue, a city on Vietnam's north central coast. I certainly had NO idea I'd go there, much less much sense I'd make it to Vietnam.

But here I am! And it's been quite a trip here in South East Asia.

Being exposed to the exotic (for me) and a beautiful new aesthetic. Devouring the street life, and the street food! Meandering through alleys and markets. Learning new languages, and settling for lots of non-verbal communication! Exploring waterfalls and caves and temples I didn't even imagine could exist.

Riding elephants. Riding motorbikes. Riding boats and tuk tuks and bicycles and planes and trains, and buses driven by maniacs with a death wish!

Collapsing twice in a restaurant and being taken by ambulance over windy mountain roads at midnight with only myself to take care of me, and perhaps the unseen. Clenching my teeth and thinking, "The flourescent light above you will NOT be the last thing you see." A mixture of tenacity and a deep knowledge that I am held. And then needles and IVs and heart monitors and tests and sweet Thai doctors and even sweeter Thai nurses. And recovering slowly on rice, miso soup, phone calls home and al-Jazeera.

People trying to cheat me every which way in Hanoi. My scam radar system and ability to bargain, installed at birth in every Israeli, have served me well. And though I know it's not personal, there is still something heartbreaking about a woman serving you soup (chicken soup of all things!) and trying to overcharge you, or a young taxi driver lying through his teeth about how far something is and how much the journey should cost.

And there's something heartbreaking about seeing children dressed in rags begging for money. And knowing I am traveling through lands ravaged my wars my country waged decades ago.

And there is so much beauty in this place too. In the land. In the culture. In the smiles of the people of Thailand, Lao, and Vietnam. In their gentleness. In the enthusiastic handshakes and even more enthusiastic hellos and good wishes I've received as an American here in Vietnam, from Hanoi's busiest sidewalk eateries to the smallest little villages I've ever visited.

A month and a half into this voyage, I'm proud - and somewhat surprised - I've made it this far. I plan to stay at least another month, and I'm excited about it. And yet I am rather tired, from a combination of traveling and nursing my body back to health yet again.

And I miss home and all my dear friends, in a sweet way. I miss my forest and my food and tap water that won't make me sick and dancing and hugs and people with tremendous depth and weather I've grown used to and redwood trees and hamburgers and hot tubs and naps and quiet. Oh quiet!

Though I've certainly felt loneliness and ups and downs, I've mainly been quite even-keeled. I am glad I am here. I had to do this, no doubt. I've enjoyed a lot, and also been somewhat disappointed: this voyage has not lived up to my fantasy, not yet anyway.

And yet I am excited to continue. To see more of Vietnam: Hoi An, Saigon, My Lai even. To journey to Cambodia and Angkor and see the the first streams of sunlight bathe the ruins at dawn! To be in Thailand during the annual water festival. To travel to the southern islands and relax deeply on magnificent beaches lapped by warm tourqouise water and surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs!

Some days I feel small. Yes, I do. And other says I feel so adventurous, like yesterday, when I rented a motorbike, invited a girl at my hostel to hop on, and explored the Vietnam of my dreams, running out of gas and finding some 15 feet down the rural roads, zipping down windy roads surrounded by jungle-clad karsts and walking, alone, down narrow paths through stunning, isolated jade-colored valleys. These places are NOT in Lonely Planet! OK most of them weren't. ;-)

I've never traveled like this, alone and for so long. I did spend 4 months in Europe when I was 19, and though that was challenging, it was mainly a study abroad program.

This is me, alone, with no plans, no teachers, no parents, no friends. I can do almost anything and almost anything can be done to me. Hey that's not what I was thinking! Come on guys, this is serious. ;-)

Of course I feel some uneasiness about that. But mainly I know that's a big reason why I'm here: to do this on my own. To go out with virtually no external support - no people or things or conventions I am used to - and to make my way.

And yet, at least for now, I've revised what I thought was my initial agenda. Or perhaps only redefined my purpose.

I though I was coming here for a Hero's Journey that would test my might. I laughed when I had to fill out the immigration form: you can check 'business,' 'vacation,' and an assortment of other categories, but there isn't one for 'Hero's Journey'!

The Hero's Journey is an archetype, which as I understand it, is a story that is common to all of humanity. And this one involves the hero - each of us - leaving home, being tested, and then returning a new person. It's a vital rite of passage.

And that's a big part of why I thought I came here, and perhaps still do. But my conception of the Hero's Journey was in large part this: to be bad-ass and conquer this experience!

What's been working itself through me recently, however, is the idea that maybe this trip doesn't need to be a fantasy, and maybe I don't need to be a hero. That all my life I've tried and often succeeded at being the hero. That all my life I've sought to be perfect, strong, the best.

I think what I'm learning is that I am mortal. I am flesh and blood. I am not perfect. I can't do it alone. I do need people, very much. I do need help, I do fail sometimes, and there's nothing wrong with that. It is sometimes beautiful and sometimes ugly and it is at least profoundly normal. It's being human.

I feel myself coming down to earth. I feel myself wanting simple things more: friends, community, communion with nature, a deep relationship with place...fortunately, all things I have already!

And also, in addition to most likely doing good work for the world, valuing the smaller acts more: of being there for a friend, of smiling at the old lady at the grocery store, of being kind in my every day.

And I am thinking of family, too. Of my current family, and of the family I'll create one day, maybe sooner than I thought?

So many of the people I love are giving birth, and I am envious! I can't wait to spend more time with them and their children. And I am feeling more and more ready to meet a wonderful partner, and love her deeply and passionately, and not settle for anything less than that. And to grow and explore, and to have children (don't hold your breath yet, mom!).

So what's a hero?

Maybe what I'm doing is heroic, for me at least. And maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the main lesson of my Hero's Journey is that I don't need to be a hero anymore. Ha! To come all this way and read all about the journey only to realize that I don't need to be a hero. How ironic! And what I relief. I can just be me, beautiful, wonderful, imperfect, mortal me, equal to everyone around me, doing my part. I can go on a big trip with high hopes and come back happy but not elated with my experience. OK! That's fine! Some experiences are incredible. Others suck. And some are just plain good.

And just now a very old man, frail, exhausted, barely makes his way off the street and onto a chair in my guesthouse. A reminder, somehow, in the flesh, of everything I've just written. Everything.

And now the old man is gone. Was he even really here?

Perhaps this journey is a fuller initiation into adulthood, to the acceptance that rather than things always working out our way - a child's view - and that you are unstoppable - an adolescent view - in fact the world is far more complex.

Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Sometimes you love and it is not returned, and sometimes, it is the other way around. And some precious times, it is!

Sometimes you leave and other times you are left. Sometimes you succeed and other times you fail. Sometimes you are the best, sometimes the worst, and most often, perhaps, somewhere in betweem.

Sometimes you go for it and other times you hold back. Sometimes you cry and shiver with fear, and other times you yelp out in joy at your triumph. And often, again, it's somewhere in between.

I'm feeling more drawn to balance. Rather than an infinite series of battles to reach an infinite (and unattainable) goal, I think I am learning, more and more on this voyage, to see life as a series of exciting experiments.

Some cities rock and others suck. Some travel buddies crack us up and others, well, we can't get away from quick enough! Sometimes you have the perfect day on your motorbike and other times you run out of gas. And sometimes, both happen!

When I was young, one of my favorite movies was "War Games," a brilliant film starring Matthew Broderick about the futility of nuclear weapons and the Cold War. A computer that is supposed to only simulate battles against the USSR takes over and decides to launch a full blown conflict. Eventually, he is taught that such a battle can never have a winner.

"Sometimes," the computer concludes as the movie climaxes, "the only way to win is not to play the game."

Since my early childhood, I have been trying to win a game made up of an infite series of games. Really, it's a game against myself, one that I can't win.

The goal of the game is to be perfect and be the best. To be the best at math. To be the best brother and son and grandson. To be the best at tennis and basketball and volleyball and soccer. To be the best at languages and adventures and camping and cooking and music and love making and dancing, my God, probably everything I have ever tried.

This drive has brought me a lot, and I don't want to overlook that. It's given me a lot of success, relative financial comfort, friends, the ability to impact things.

But it has also cost me so much. It has cost me peace, because it has meant I need to continually tread water to stay afloat. And it has cost me relationshops too.

What if I let my self sink sometimes? What if my fire doesn't always have to be the brightest?

Big fires take a lot of energy. And they burn out quickly.

And the connection one feels there is superficial. It is actually a lonely place.

What if I stopped seeing other people's fires as threats, and instead sought comfort in their warmth and inspiration in their glow? And, even, support their growth, out of joy and love?

As I write now, I'm thinking, "Hold on a sec. You DO support others! You do bask in their glow, more and more, and support them out of joy and love!"

Yes. It's true. And I must not overlook that. That again is seeing things as black and white, and me as not good enough!

Perhaps I'm able to write this now because it is sinking into me, and this act of writing is one of a series of acts that will help it sink in a bit deeper.

And yet it is also true that the drive to be the best and brightest and always triumph still feels too strong to me. Still feels out of alignment.

So how to temper this and come into balance while not making THAT a new thing to be great at?! Oh we humans! It's rare we are let off easy ;-)

Ah it feels good to write this. I feel relief, like, "Ah, I can show more of the real me, and that is OK!"

It's actually a big part of what came out of my Vision Quest. This may be a story I've told you, or even written on this blog (I can't recall), but I'll tell it again, because it seems to be so appropriate.

The day before I went into the wilderness alone, I was confronted with an intense, nerve-wracking realization: that what was holding me back most from stepping into a world of mystery, soul and trust was my need to be perfect at that. What if I fail at my quest?!

That night I wrote on a piece of paper, "Roni needs to get it right and be perfect all the time." I explained to my group how this drive has served me, and also the places it has cost me so dearly. I tossed that piece of paper into a ceremonial fire with the intention of letting go of that idea.

My next 3 days and nights, spent alone in a magestic and stark wilderness, I worked with this idea quite a bit, and let go more and more of the need to identify with it.

It all came to a head on my last night. Many people spend the last night of their quests conducting all night vigils. I was wracked with this choice: would I be bad ass enough to do it?

As I sat perched on a hilltop, it sunk in deep: I don't NEED to do it. That I am enough just as I am. I can go to sleep under the stars, and wake up at dawn and walk off that mountain a good, whole, strong man.

A song came to me then, and the refrain was, "I am enough." And not only that, but the world is enough. My family is enough. My friends are enough. This world is enough!

That morning, I woke before first light, sat on that hilltop, lit a fire and watched as the dawn crept in and illuminated the stunning landscape of mountains, valleys, canyons and rocks.

Before I left for this trip, a friend said, "Your trip is like a quest": a 3-month version of a 3-day quest!

It rang true as soon as he said it, and it has stuck with me. Really, I think our whole lives are Quests. So I don't need to get it "right" by 32 or 33. Our growth and evolution last our whole lives, if not for eternity.

Boy does that take the pressure off! It changes the whole game.

It means I don't have to rush. It means that I can live these questions and face life with far more lightness. Because it never ends, it means you never reach the ideal, you just work toward it at whatever pace and in whatever way feels right. And you soak up all the good in and around you. I feel so much freedom in that.

I can never be perfect and there will always be someone somewhere better than me and everything I do. Often, there will be many people!

In a recent post I wrote about something that came to me while I sat alone in a cave (ha, I realize how funny that must sound to anyone who doesn't live in Fairfax! LOL.) OK I'm trying to stop laughing. :-)

What came to me is that dreams and nightmares live in the same place. Later I realzed that out in the world, Vietnam, with its stark beauty and brutal history, is such a place for me. Inside, at least one place where dreams and nightmares seem to intersect for me is here: that the (fading) nightmare of failure is actually where my dream for peace lies.

There you go. Accepting my imperfection, and hence the imperfection of life and of those around me, and still doing and loving, and striving out of joy.

This too is an ideal, so I'll be careful not to try to be perfect at that too. God Alanis Morrisette would have a field day with this material!

It's not about giving up the parts of me that strive for great things. The bad ass, the tenacious one, the conqueror - these are vital parts that certainly have their place. I think it's more about finding balance, and allowing other parts to flourish as well.

There's so much more as always, but I think I'll stop here. I don't need to get this perfect!

I do have some more time left here in Asia, and 5 minutes before I'm off to the airport, so perhaps I'll wish myself some things. It's a very Fairfax thing to do!

I wish myself feelings of comfort and security on this voyage. I wish myself joy and fun and humor and rich adventure! I wish myself a continued letting go of the need to be great all the time. I wish myself the experiences I need and acceptance of what comes my way. I wish myself safety, and lightness, and play. I wish myself a new definition of success, and a willingness to try and fail, and the knowing, in the end, of when it is time to leave this place and come home, and a feeling of completion around that.

My dear friends and family, I love you all so much. So so much. Two nights ago I even dreamed I had dinner with you. I couldn't make out most of the faces, but I was sharing a meal with those I love. If there are a few ideals I won't let go of, that's one of them!

Wow it's interesting to really want to be traveling alone, and also to savor home and homecoming so! Thanks for reading and for all your love and support. I'll keep keeping you posted!

So much love and my best wishes to you,
Roni

Nihn Bihn, Vietnam: Day 2

What an incredible day. I rented a motorbike, invited a German girl (Christina) from my guesthouse to hop on (quite spontaneously), and we zipped through the Vietnamese countryside, exploring to our hearts' content, mostly well off the beaten path. It was absolutely stunning!

Nihn Bihn, Vietnam: Day 1

I take the morning train from Hanoi, arrive by 12:30, rent a motorbike (my first time in Vietnam - yikes!), and head for the countyside. I find small villages set amidst stunning landscapes, and people of all ages who cannot stop smiling at me and saying "Hello!" as I pass by.

I also find some room to be with and release some of the grief I have around the Vietnam War. Walking away from that girl after she held up her peace sign I thought, "It could have been her. It was her." And I cried, and 50 feet down the path from her rural home I came upon a cemetery, and their I wept.

Later explored pagodas and caves, and was fed cane juice, offered daughters to marry, and mobbed by ecstatic children. It was a wonderful day, so much of what I've been looking for here!

Krouzman Health & Travel Update

Folks, I am on the mend! My immune system and indominatable will ;-) aided by modern medicine are kicking the shit out of the bacteria that have decided to make my body home, for a bit anyway.

My fever is gone. Now I'm just somewhat tired, and the tummy, that I don't think will feel right until I get back to the land of water treatment plants and refrigeration.

Actually within a few days I'll be adding an application to my blog that will give you a real-time readout of my pulse rate, blood pressure and temperature. And, for the medical experts and hypochondriacs among you, my White Blood Cell count, Neutrphil count, and even an hourly update on my C Reactive Proteins! If you have an i-Phone you'll be able to download their new "Jewish Mother" application, which will flash these real-time readouts on your screen every 15 minutes. Pretty neat!

My quick rebound here has added some wind to my sails! I had a fun day today strolling Hanoi, eating some good non-spicy food, talking to the awesome sisters who run the guesthouse I'm staying at, and hanging out with a couple of awesome Slovenians I met on my tour of Halong Bay.

We made a series of Vietnamese Travel Industry Safety videos, improv style, on the street. Super fun, and really good I think. Perhaps I've found a little comedy nitch? God there is so much safety related material here, from non existant guard rails to rusty guard rails to psychotic drivers and impossibly difficult cross walks stalked by psyochotic dirvers. It has been fun.

Tomorrow I'm taking a train 3 hours south of this madness to Nihn Bihn, a large town in a rural area that is supposed to be quite beautiful: rice paddies, limestone mountains jutting like teeth from verdant valleys (how poetic Roni), caves, temples...all the good stuff. I'll be sure to give you a full report.

Then It's back to Hanoi, and a flight to Hue, a city on Vietnam's north central coast, and then from there down to Hoi An and the surrounding area, which is supposed to be beautiful. It's after that that I'll visit My Lai (see previous post), and then perhaps head to the mountains around Dalat before dropping into the teeming city of Saigon. Whoa!

Then almost certainly Cambodia and the ruins of Angkor Wat, which everyone says are profoundly stunning. If everyone says so then I have to go!

And then back to Thailand and a trip to the south, to beautiful, relaxing islands and beaches. Oh my!

So lucky, lucky me to have the freedom and the means to do this. And also lucky me to have such a rich life and amazing people to come home to when it's time! I'll be so excited to see you and any babies you have or may have by then. :-)

Much love,
Roni

Sick, Again - But I'm OK!

Oh God fucking damn it. Krouzman is sick again.

At least that's what his gut and his thermometer say (100.2).

Also the doctor he saw tonight says so.

Vietnamese Doctor: "Yes, you have a GI bacterial infection."

Me: "Wow, how do you know that without running blood tests?"

Him: "Well, from the exam I just gave you (open mouth, breathe, allow me to touch your abdomen gently), and because everyone who comes back from where you just came back from (Halong Bay) gets a GI bacterial infection. [Deadpan] Sorry I didn't tell you before you went."

Me: (That would have been pretty incredible since we just met 6 minutes ago) Yeah.

And I knew this. I KNEW this. EVERY lunch and dinner they served us for 3 days included the same shitty prawns and the same crappy squid and the same oddly colored beef. But what the fuck was I going to do, not eat - on a boat?

So fuck. My spirits are good and I'm fine right now and I bet I'll be fine. I may be feeling OK about it because of the Vietnamese nurses I met tonight, who smile and giggle just as sweetly and coyishly as Thai nurses.

Also I'm a pro by now. Got my own private little pharmacy going, and I can even read blood tests! WBC count, Neutrophils. You know, all that shit.

It's funny when you first say you are going to Asia, no one says, "You know I got deathly ill there when I went. Be careful!"

They say, "Awesome. I LOVE Lao! or "Ooh, you'll LOVE Thailand!"

It's only when you call them from the hospital that they say, "Yeah, I got deathly ill there when I went there. I even threw up blood!"

So I'm back at my guesthouse in Hanoi, which is about as good a place to relax and recoup as Times Square. But I did find a sticky rice lady around the corner who peddles the meals I'm apt to eat for the next few days for 28 cents. That should offset the blood test fees.

Tomorrow I will tell you more about Halong Bay, which, as the tour guides say, is indeed "very beautiful." I'll give you a little status update too.

One thing I will say is I'm looking forward to the day soon when:
* I don't carry around an emergency kit with me everywhere I go
* I can eat food and drink water and not worry they could kill me (go figure)
* I go back to pooping once a day, one medium-large log, one medium-small log. Right now it's like thrice daily, 6 mis-shapen pellets at a time. I feel like a fucking deer.

Alright peeps, I'm gonna head up to my fifth floor walk up soon, pop some tylenol, and get some sleep.

Love,
Roni

Whoa, Hanoi

I'll say it again: Hanoi is totally nuts.

I feel like a Vietnamese peasant farmer dropped smack down in mid-town Manhattan. Where to begin? Actually, where the fuck am I???

The city is like New York if it didn't have rules and the people were lots shorter.

Driving
Let's start with the driving. Many of you have driven with me, and you know I like to push it some in that area. To me, some weaving and even honking here and there is called for and even fun. But these people take it to a whole new level. They swarm like fish on their motorbikes. And they do not stop honking.

I've seen 3 accidents in 24 hours. Traffic lights are suggestions. Actually, they're not even that: they're just flashing lights. Crossing the street is an act of faith.

Today I actually got a lift on the back of a motorbike. And you know what? It was actually fun and not scary. I may - MAY - rent a motorbike for a day here, but don't count on it.

Walking the Streets
Let's move on to streets and alleys. Whoa, narrow. Whoa, crazy. Super bustling. Tiny little outdoor eateries everywhere. This means a grandma ladling hot soup over rice noodles and people sitting on tiny plastic stools and tiny plastic tables. Sort of like all the locals are relegated to the kids tables. A bowl of rice noodle soup with chicken (yum!) costs 60 cents. Then there are woman carrying super heavy baskets hanging from bamboo poles slung over their shoulders, full of everything from fresh pineapples or oranges to water chestnuts and lots of nondescript items.

The Food...
...is quite good, and I'm just getting started. As I mentioned, a good bowl of soup (Pho) is a classic, dependable stand by. I'm stoked on trying some more seafood.

Oh yeah, and regarding those restaurants: I think Manhattan has something like 2 million people and 1,000 restaurants. Hanoi has like 3.5 million people and must have 10 times that many.

Last night I sat down for some Vietnamese BBQ. They give you a plate of raw beef and veggies, light a large super hot candle under a skillet, and you're on your own. Of course, as it's South East Asia, there seems to be a good amount of fruit here too. Here I am eating a pineapple like it's ice cream. Yum! I've also had a lot of ice cream. 30 cents a cone!

Police...
...are quite present. I thought about this today and thought, "Damn paranoid Commies." Then I realized New York has far more police in its streets. These cops are kind of scary, but not that scary. They look like guys in their late teens dressed up like police-soldiers for Halloween. Yesterday I actually witnessed a little police raid against the bamboo basket ladies. Who would go after the bamboo basket ladies?! In any case they nabbed a couple.

Someone told me that most things run on extortion here, and I believe it, because basically it seems like most things most people are doing most of the time - like driving like maniacs, or selling prawns out of their pockets - must be illegal.

Lakes
There are several lakes in Hanoi. I've visited only one, numerous times. It's a relative respite from the craziness. Lonely Planet says there are 6 foot long turtles in the lake. Yesterday I saw this man doing Thai Chi on its shores. I've heard - OK, Lonely Planet says - there are a string of great seafood restaurants on the shores of a far bigger lake in the city, which I hope to check out.

The Language
I haven't learned one word of Vietnamese and I'm not sure why. I learned some Thai and Lao super quick. I think it's because Vietnamese don't actually speak Vietnamese, so you never here what it's supposed to sound like. Either that or in Hanoi, at least, they dispense with formalities like "Hello" and "Thank you" and skip straight to pointing and shouting.

And Finally, Shameless Hauranging, AKA, Leave me the Fuck Alone
I'm not sure how you spell hauranging, but I know there are thousands of people in this city who do it to you NON STOP. I can't walk 10 feet without being 'offered' a motorbike ride or 'invited' into a restaurant. I use those words loosely because damn are the people doing the offering and inviting aggressive. Here's how it goes:
Me: Doo doo doo
Vietnamese Man: YOU. {Points at me) MOTORBIKE.
Me: Who, me? Oh no thank you.
VM: MOTORBIKE RIDE.
Me: No, really, I'm just going for stroll.
VM: YES. MOTORBIKE.
Me: NO THANK YOU.
VM: Marijuana?
My fucking god. If they tried this shit in New York, they'd get punched in the face. I must say though that when the very pretty prostitute road straight up to me tonight and said, "Hey Mr, you want boom boom with me?" I really didn't mind. I mean shit of course I wanted to hop on the back of her motorbike. Maybe start off with a little ride around the city, then get some tea and see if we hit if off. I don't think that's what she had in mind. If she did, well, I missed my first big chance in Vietnam.

I love and probably miss you,
Roni

ps - Since arriving here 2 days ago, I've received numerous questions from many of you. Rather than answer each individually, I've decided to pick a few of the most common and respond below.

Frequently Asked Questions re: Roni's First 48 hours in Hanoi

Q: Is is true that on your first morning you opened the window, snickered and shouted, more subdued than you would have liked, "Gooooood morning Vietnammmmm!"?
A: Yes.

Q: And is is true you video'd yourself doing that?
A: Maybe. OK yes.

Q: Finally, is it true that today you couldn't open your the door to your room and made the poor old guest house owner climb 5 flights of stairs to show you how to turn a key?
A: Come on now. That's ridiculous.

pps - I thought this was funny. It's the Friendship and Cultural Center, or some shit, probably funded by China or the former USSR. God, it just feels, so, friendly.

Holy Shit

Hanoi is nuts. Nuts! And I'm loving it. If not a bit overwhelmed.

Remember all that war stuff I wrote about? That's like ALL people can talk about here. I was called baby killer like 12 times tonight.

Not. Not not not.

I was offered 12 motorbike rides and lots of weed, and boy are they aggressive here.

So quick first impressions before I go off to sleep in my posh $18 a night downtown room.

We fly our Lao airlines prop plane, and somehow, live. I meet 2 Brits and we decide to form a little combat team to penetrate the Taxi phalanx. Yeah right. They pluck us like fish in a barrel.

He drives like a maniac. They all do. Cattle cross the highway. People cross the highway.

We bet 3-0 our taxi driver will not pull a scheme and will indeed take us to the proper hostel we requested. We lose.

We are taken to a 'hostel' with a similar name. This is a common scheme.

A man in a suit tries to open the taxi door and pull the Brit out. The Brit locks the door. The driver unlocks it. The Brit locks it again. The other Brit yells. I'm like, people, let's calm down. Driver, I know you know English, take us to the right place.

After some fuss, he does. We are dropped off in a crazy busy part of town. We check in.

I walk around in a daze. Burning Lao? Burning Lao was a campout. This is the real thing.

It's like New York, on crack. There are people everywhere. Sitting on tiny plastic stools eating delicious soups and various grilled items. Everywhere. Damn it I wish I packed that extra stomach.

Also they are all wearing these cool Asian pants called 'Jeans'. Damn me for not listening to my gut and instead listening to my hippie friends who said you don't need jeans in Asia. Yes, you do need jeans in Asia. You need jeans everywhere you go. If you went to a remote village in Burundi, you'd need jeans. You think villagers in Burundi wear tribal garb? You think Vietnamese people walk around in bamboo hats? No, they don't. And they sure as fuck don't wear Thai pants.

In any case, this place, so far, feels awesome. The energy is dizzying. The people seem cosmopolitan yet friendly. But they drive like fucking maniacs, or artists on shrooms. In any case there is no proper way to cross the street. Swarms of bikes and motorbikes weave by. All you can do, really, is just say a little prayer and hope for the best. Or you're not getting to the other side.

I love cities. So much. Laos was sweet, but it's a backwater. I feel like a farmer from Mars who was just plucked in the East Village.

A final word on traveling the 'beaten path'. I've been kind of criticizing myself for doing that, and then someone read my blog and basically says the same thing.

But wait a sec. If someone went to America and visited New York, Washington, the Grand Canyon, then hit LA, drove up highway 1, visited SF, then Muir woods, and finished up at Yosemite, you'd say, "Nice trip dude!" You wouldn't say, "Uh, Loser! That's what EVERYONE does. Cool people visit Oklahoma, Alabama, Detroit." No you wouldn't say that. Same goes for here. Yes i can ride my motorbike 80 miles to some village that's about as exciting as Wichitaw. Why? To say I did that. Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.

Obviously I'm being a bit extreme. But you're getting me.

Really I want all the big stuff, plus the cool, inside job stuff. But how do you get the inside stuff? It took me 4 years of living in the Bay Area to find Fairfax, and 3 years of living in Fairfax to find Ana Sia. I have maybe a month in Vietnam. I'm gonna have to be a really lucky bastard to find the inside stuff.

OK I wil find some I hope. If you know anyone in Hanoi - anyone - let me know.

End disjointed crack-head post,
Roni

ps - a posse of 12 Vietnamese teenagers just walked in to this internet joint, which charges 65 cents an hour and is open all night. I like.

Where Dreams and Nightmares Live

God I'm being such a crabby bitch today! It's totally not that time of the month for me, so I don't know what's going on.

I am heading to Vietnam in a few hours, so that for sure is going on.

I know that leaving one place and arriving in an unfamiliar place always brings up anxiety for me. But I think there's more here.

I think it's the fact that I'm going to Vietnam, which is at once extraordinarily exciting (surprisingly so) to me, and also somewhat unnerving.

When I sat in the cave 3 days ago, the most unexpected of the 3 messages that came through was, "Dreams and nightmares live in the same place. Go there."

It was very clear. I don't fully get it yet, and that may be what this next part of the journey is about. Living that.

Because it has become clear to me during the past few days that dreams and nightmares are indeed what Vietnam is all about for me.

Dreams of bright green rice paddies in lush, terraced valleys. Farmers in traditional dress walking on narrow paths behind oxen. Bustling cities, women dressed in red riding amidst a swarm of bicycles. A rich culture, a strong, proud people.

Nightmares of war. Of napalmed children running naked down a dirt road. Of night after night of carpet bombing in the cities. Of zippo raids and machine guns and landmines. Of one day in 1968 when a US army company entered the hamlet of My Lai, rounded up a few hundred women, children and old people, and machine gunned them into ditches. Later another commander was quoted as saying that every US company had its own version of My Lai.

So nightmares. And dreams. And this place in the world where they seem to collide for me. And the place in my heart where they intersect.

And living from that place on this journey. Taking in those lush rice paddies and stunning harbors and strong, proud people. Experiencing a wildly new culture. And also feeling the grief I feel, the anguish, over what my government did to those people. Going to the War Remnants Museum in Saigon. Visiting My Lai and perhaps laying flowers at the memorial. Saying to someone, anyone, a grandmother who lost her sons, "I am so sorry for what my government did to you. I was not even born but I feel a lot of grief over it. May it never happen again and may our two people continue to heal and to forgive."

I was born 2 years after the last US troops left Vietnam, and yet this sits so strongly with me. Even a desire to be forgiven.

In part I think because since middle school I've been entranced by the war, and knew, without a doubt, that if I was alive back then I would have been a leader against the war. I wanted so much to have been alive back then.

Perhaps past lives are at play here. Certainly some of my own history with violence is, and it would probably help for me to remember that. And also the history my family in Europe suffered through. Because some of them were also shot into the graves they dug themselves.

And perhaps I am projecting some dark, hidden parts of myself onto Vietnam and what happened there. Some parts I prefer not to see but that terrify me and certainly come out in my dreams. Some parts maybe I need to seek forgiveness for, most likely from myself.

This may sound unnecessarily depressing. To meet it is not. To me it is very real, and rich, and it is what is coming up. It does not dominate - the main thrust for me is adventure and exploration of a beautiful new land. And the grief part is there too, and the mystery that surrounds it.

So I'll go with all of it and live it as fully as I can or want to, and we'll see how it plays out. I'm excited, and of course I'll keep you posted. In less than 5 hours I'll be in Hanoi!

Much love,
Roni

I Seek and I Find...Burning Lao!

Yesterday was a rather extraordinary day. It landed me at the Lao version of Burning Man, locally known simply as, the "Boon" (as in a haughty British man saying 'Burn').

The day after Cave tells me that if I keep seeking I will find - even if I don't know what I'm seeking - I decide to go seeking. What for I have no idea.

Well, I do know it's International Women's Day, and I've heard there are lots of parties. I rent a ridiculous pink Chinese girls bike for a buck 80 and ride 2 miles to the local market. It's pretty dead.

When I go pay the nice man who minded my bike his 23 cents, he says, "Nam", which means river, and sort of wiggles his hips and smiles.

OH God, not another man proposi - OH, wait. I think he means there's a party at the 'Nam'!

Me: Party the Nam?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: Where?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: There?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: 2 kilometers.
Him: Smile and nod.

I take off pedaling on my small, one gear, Chinese girls bike toward the great Nam. Soon I believe I am lost. I consult my Lao phrase book to find the words 'women', 'international' or 'day'. 1 for 3. No dice.

I do find the word for festival. It's pronounced, more or less, Boon.

I spot a very cute Lao girl and ask, 'Boon'?

She's like, 'No. Boon in December.'

I'm like, 'No. Boon in March!'

She's like, 'No. Boon in December.'

I'm like, 'Want a ride on the back of my girl's bike?'

She's line, 'No.'

I turn around and head back toward the Nam. I start seeing lots of young people heading somewhere in motorbikes. I follow. I'm not really thinking about whether I'll get there, I'm just pedaling, furiously.

The pavement turns into a bumpy, hilly dirt road. It fills with more and more motorbikes.

'Boon?!' I ask.

And people actually start pointing - in the direction I'm heading! Plus they smile, because I'm riding a pink Chinese girls bike I think, as they speed past on their Hondas and Yamahas and Suzukis.

2 miles down the road I stop at a restaurant. 3 of the owners are enjoying lunch.

Me: 'Sa bye dee! Boon?'

Them: Expressions I take to mean, hey you, we have no idea what you're talking about, stop saying Boon and have some of this whiskey and shellfish with us.

OK, I do.

I pedal on. The road grows increasingly worse, and hilly, and crowded with motorbikes and not tuk tuks and flatbed trucks carrying 10, 12 people and giant cases of Beer Lao. I think I'm on to something.

I keep pedaling. It's been 4 miles. I must reach the 'Boon'!

I ride on. It is super hot. I am sweating profusely. I don't know how far it is or where I'm really even going.

And then suddenly, there, in front of me, is the beautiful Nam Ou river, and tents and parked motorbikes and at least 1,000 people. I have arrived, at Burning Lao!

I am so excited. And so dirty, and wet with sweat. I lock my Chinese girls bike to a tree and walk into the 'Boon'!

Immediately I buy water and a sweet treat at Center Camp. All around people are camped by the river, eating, drinking and singing.

I walk around sort of dazed. Holy shit, I'm at Burning Lao!

People smile at me was I walk by. 'Hey, get a look of the tall freak with the shaved head and Thai pants. God don't they have jeans in his country?!'

I wade through a very large puddle and past Lao people galore. Suddenly, I come upon, my god...2 Americans! They are with a very sweet Lao guy named Gai (pronounced Guy, which means chicken in Lao, and I say so, and he says so).

Of course we become instant friends. Its sort of the rules in those circumstances. We are the only 3 white people there. Fuck probably the only 3 people who weren't born within 25 miles of the place. (I have yet to meet one Lao person who has been outside of Lao).

Immediately they serve me grilled river fish, rice and salad. OMG I was so hungry after riding old 1-gear 5 miles up and down that dirt road.

We are surrounded by people. The women are clearly in charge, at least on this day. They are drinking like fish, putting me to shame, to shame, and even putting their men to shame.

I head over to the dance area. Glitch Mob is spinning and Ana Sia is about to jump on for a guest set. Sweet!

Why doesn't Ana Sia just officially join the Glitch Mob, I wonder? And why doesn't she ever smile?

No really, I think, I am at an 8th grade dance. People in South East Asia, most of them anyway, are super shy dancers. And the music is way cheesy pop.

I walk up to the crowd. I am immediately pulled in by a man who thrusts me in front of a woman who seems quite happy to be dancing with me.

Other people surrounded me. We are all very happy.

As soon as a song ends, people run off the dance floor like rats fleeing a flood. They are so shy!


So I run along too, and a college student pulls me over to her table, where I sit next to some guy who gives me beer. And more beer.

Ya'll know I don't really drink. But I did, and that, with the heat, well, it did enough.

The music starts again. I get the 'let's dance' look from the girl. We do. She tells me to buy her a beer. I say I have no money on me. Which is true! God this feels awkward. She seems momentarily disappointed, but quickly brushes it off. I dance with her, and other girls, and guys, and lots of people.

I head back to our camp. I take off most of my clothes and swim in the river and do my best to fend off all the beer these bad ass cuties are offering me.

So, some similarities between our Burning Man and Burning Lao:
* People camp in big groups
* People share lots of food
* People drink a lot
* The ride home is dusty and gross

Unlike our Burning Man, theirs:
* Includes a river
* Is free

Unlike theirs, ours:
* Lasts 8 days
* Features sex, giant butterflies and lots more dancing

Other than that, it's basically the same thing. OK really it's not.

But it was awesome, a very real Lao experience.

And here's the strange thing. For some reason, for the past week here in Lao, when some kids would approach me and giggle and I'd pull out the old video camera and not understand one word they were saying, I'd inevitable say, "So who here has been to Burning Man?" And they'd smile and nod and I'd ask what camp they were at, how they liked it and all that.

And then, yesterday, I come across the 'Boon' of the season, at the Great Nam. Burning Lao. I wonder what their Decompression is like?!

Much love,
Roni

ps - No way I was going to ride my Chinese girls bike 5 miles home down that road. So I hopped into the back of a truck with a Lao family who strapped my bike to their roof and charged me 4 bucks for a lift into town. Rip off, but what the fuck.