This essay is a really good one. I like hearing about ordinary citizens and their lifestyles especially when I haven't experienced it or read about it myself. I read too much lately about duplicitous political scoundrels which tends to drain a me of the life in and around me.
I thought that girl might be latching on to you from that other photo with the half dozen kick-ass chaperones. I also thought that other girl that was flipping you off was going to bonk you in the head with that orange soda for pointing a camera at her. I think her friend was thinking uh-oh also!
In this day of age I think centralized electricity is overrated and is used as a tool for enslavement. John Perkins enlightened me, not to mention Klaus. Plumbing on the other hand would certainly improve life where it is crowded but it is just a luxury in a more rural setting. I remember seeing Mexican kids coming out of shacks clean as a whistle. Seems impossible as it is just as dry and dirty inside a shack as it is outside.
Other than a 12v plumbed sink I have never had plumbing myself. I recently acquired a flush toilet but it is not hooked up. Not having a shower or toilet is also the reason I don't kiss chicks who live in penthouses. Got to know when to stop and take a pinch of tobacco to get absolutely ignored for one's own safety and pursuit of truth.
Other than Canada and Mexico I have only been to the Philippines. Yeah, I met a girl online and went there. Maripipi Island. It seemed like a carbon copy of Gilligan's Island. Other than a handful of cousin warnings it was great fun. Happy friendly people who like to sing in a microphone. I got to dance in front of the whole town while throwing money into a hat! When all the money in my wallet was gone friends of my new friend came onstage and handed me more money. I was waiting for the song to end. The song was not going to end. I was told I was supposed to quit, not dance there, without tossing money. Duh!
I kissed my 12 day old friend goodbye at the airport. I came to find out, that was wrong. I was supposed to ask first. Doh!
Thank you as always, Mr. Dinh. Even if your world travels come to an end, your writing will surely continue, and your readers will continue to seek out your stories. Stay safe and well. You are needed.
A 30 year old woman touched your arm while you were laying on the beach ? Ah Linh, you sly devil. Glad to hear you will finally make it back to Vietnam.
While doing my taxes yesterday (a story unto itself) with a documentary on TV in the background, I suddenly heard them mention Plei Me. I was immediately thrown back in time to the 80's and a friend I used to know named Pete. Pete was a Mexican about 10 years older than me who was in the Special Forces. Occasionally, I would ask him about being in Vietnam and all he would usually say was "Plei Me". Pete was personable and had a great sense of humor, but was also as tough as nails. Pete had zero respect for the 101st Airborne, whom he always referred to as "The Screaming Chickens"
Your unique on the ground perspective allows me to vicariously enjoy a little authenticity in a world taken over by virtual, sensational, chain store experiences. I was fortunate while younger to have experienced some of the locations you have shared while working. Your stories seem more engaging than what my memory can provide. The journey your words provide is both enjoyable as well as educational. Thank you for allowing me to tag along.
With poverty... it is curious. You don't notice it when you are well-to-do or middle class. It's like with kids... they don't exist until you have your own first baby. Then, suddenly, you see pregnant ladies everywhere, strollers, nurseries, toys and sweets.
So, I do not feel hatred for rich folks as fellow human beings. They just don't know poverty and or are oblivious to it. Even on their 5-star vacation to Vietnam, the rich guests don't see poverty, just happy exotic people whose food is so affordable, whose bodies are so slim and whose arts are so adorable.
I was born into affluence. Nobody was any happier because they had more money or toys. Been up and down in my nearly 60 years and I wasn't more or less happy whether on top or the bottom. Nobody ever died saying "I wish I had more money" and it seems money cannot buy happiness. Who'd have thought it?
Another great one! Glad you're finally able to make it back to Vietnam.
In reflecting back on all your culinary adventures during your travels, I must honestly confess that I just couldn't eat some of that stuff--I'm definitely no Andrew Zimmern. (Note that of all the weird and funky stuff he seemed to eat with gusto, the one thing I actually saw him express open revulsion for after consuming was Durian!)
But many of those who are finicky about everything they eat should also exercise those scruples when it comes to deciding what to put into their bodies via other pathways such as syringes, if you catch my drift.
Of all your inestimable adventures during the recent plague years, the biggest challenge may have been completing your international odyssey without getting jabbed--IMHO this may have been your wisest decision.
“After two years of bouncing across the globe, I’m simply exhausted.“
By design, the totalitarian Covid policies are designed to make travel even more problematic, difficult, and punitive - unless you’re a part of the ruling class. The peasants are to stay home from now on - tourism is just a fantasy - among the many fantasies coming your way - ie. eating meat, owning anything, free of war, sovereignty, etc…..
Nice one. Hope things will be quieter in Vietnam, although Africa didn't seem so bad. I think the worst places to be in the next decades might as well be Europe and America, as the "new world order" crashes down on them. People at poor places will be at a less height to fall down from, and they are used to hardship. I recently saw a documentary about I don't remember which city in America, and everyone was so fat, really morbidly obese, even many of the homeless. It's gonna be tough for them. Then again, the meth addicts are thin but don't look much better.
You're a trip Linh. Stick with it mate. Anything new you publish is like finding a gem. For people who could only hope for such luck but for whom your gems are more valuable anyway. I am delighted to see the world you see through your eyes, wherever that happens to be. I only just missed visiting Vietnam as a youth in the least favorable circumstances but was brought up in the shadow of our ignominious contribution, since many of my friends were 'veterans' and army instructors too. Then we went through a couple of generations of refugees/immigrants from there. I've spent time in Cambodia while eloping with my Pakistani wife and parking her at a friend's hotel there while we sorted immigration to Oz. I had hopes of getting back one day and finishing my intention of getting to Vietnam. Once again in Cambodia Vietnam was always casting a shadow. I was enjoying your descriptions of life at your brother in law's (?) factory. Sorry if I mixed that up.
I often feel a sense of brotherhood with you. Partly our ages, and also attitudes to people and their habits and cultures. We're interacting with life from the same place if that means anything. I've never found a "superior" culture myself and am very sure I do not come from one.
Hi Yungjung, I don't think that's in Hunger. I'm glad you brought up the book, though. I read it nearly 40 years ago!
Glancing at it again just now, I found this miserable passage worth sharing:
I was terribly hungry, and I did not know what to do with myself and my shameless appetite. I writhed from side to side on the seat, and bowed my chest right down to my knees; I was almost distracted. When it got dark I jogged along to the Town Hall--God knows how I got there--and sat on the edge of the balustrade. I tore a pocket out of my coat and took to chewing it; not with any defined object, but with dour mien and unseeing eyes, staring straight into space. I could hear a group of little children playing around near me, and perceive, in an instinctive sort of way, some pedestrians pass me by; otherwise I observed nothing.
All at once, it enters my head to go to one of the meat bazaars underneath me, and beg a piece of raw meat. I go straight along the balustrade to the other side of the bazaar buildings, and descend the steps. When I had nearly reached the stalls on the lower floor, I called up the archway leading to the stairs, and made a threatening backward gesture, as if I were talking to a dog up there, and boldly addressed the first butcher I met.
"Ah, will you be kind enough to give me a bone for my dog?" I said; "only a bone. There needn't be anything on it; it's just to give him something to carry in his mouth."
I got the bone, a capital little bone, on which there still remained a morsel of meat, and hid it under my coat. I thanked the man so heartily that he looked at me in amazement.
"Oh, no need of thanks," said he.
"Oh yes; don't say that," I mumbled; "it is kindly done of you," and I ascended the steps again.
My heart was throbbing violently in my breast. I sneaked into one of the passages, where the forges are, as far in as I could go, and stopped outside a dilapidated door leading to a back-yard. There was no light to be seen anywhere, only blessed darkness all around me; and I began to gnaw at the bone.
It had no taste; a rank smell of blood oozed from it, and I was forced to vomit almost immediately. I tried anew. If I could only keep it down, it would, in spite of all, have some effect. It was simply a matter of forcing it to remain down there. But I vomited again. I grew wild, bit angrily into the meat, tore off a morsel, and gulped it down by sheer strength of will; and yet it was of no use. Just as soon as the little fragments of meat became warm in my stomach up they came again, worse luck. I clenched my hands in frenzy, burst into tears from sheer helplessness, and gnawed away as one possessed. I cried, so that the bone got wet and dirty with my tears, vomited, cursed and groaned again, cried as if my heart would break, and vomited anew. I consigned all the powers that be to the lowermost torture in the loudest voice.
Im glad i could remind you of such a great book. Harsh stuff! Havent read it myself in almost 20 yrs. Might reread it. Sad that scandis have no collective memory of how it could be back then. Might be reminded soon. On the topic of scandinavian writers, ever read Aksel Sandemose? I highly recommend him.. I wonder where i've read about the belt. Anyway, keep up the good work with this blog
Thank you Linh. Your excursion with Martha and dancing at the shebeen reminded me of Junior Kimbrough's juke joint in the documentary "You See Me Laughin' " about the Mississippi hill country. This essay was another welcome breath of warmth and color. Much appreciated.
This essay is a really good one. I like hearing about ordinary citizens and their lifestyles especially when I haven't experienced it or read about it myself. I read too much lately about duplicitous political scoundrels which tends to drain a me of the life in and around me.
I thought that girl might be latching on to you from that other photo with the half dozen kick-ass chaperones. I also thought that other girl that was flipping you off was going to bonk you in the head with that orange soda for pointing a camera at her. I think her friend was thinking uh-oh also!
In this day of age I think centralized electricity is overrated and is used as a tool for enslavement. John Perkins enlightened me, not to mention Klaus. Plumbing on the other hand would certainly improve life where it is crowded but it is just a luxury in a more rural setting. I remember seeing Mexican kids coming out of shacks clean as a whistle. Seems impossible as it is just as dry and dirty inside a shack as it is outside.
Other than a 12v plumbed sink I have never had plumbing myself. I recently acquired a flush toilet but it is not hooked up. Not having a shower or toilet is also the reason I don't kiss chicks who live in penthouses. Got to know when to stop and take a pinch of tobacco to get absolutely ignored for one's own safety and pursuit of truth.
Other than Canada and Mexico I have only been to the Philippines. Yeah, I met a girl online and went there. Maripipi Island. It seemed like a carbon copy of Gilligan's Island. Other than a handful of cousin warnings it was great fun. Happy friendly people who like to sing in a microphone. I got to dance in front of the whole town while throwing money into a hat! When all the money in my wallet was gone friends of my new friend came onstage and handed me more money. I was waiting for the song to end. The song was not going to end. I was told I was supposed to quit, not dance there, without tossing money. Duh!
I kissed my 12 day old friend goodbye at the airport. I came to find out, that was wrong. I was supposed to ask first. Doh!
Thank you as always, Mr. Dinh. Even if your world travels come to an end, your writing will surely continue, and your readers will continue to seek out your stories. Stay safe and well. You are needed.
A 30 year old woman touched your arm while you were laying on the beach ? Ah Linh, you sly devil. Glad to hear you will finally make it back to Vietnam.
While doing my taxes yesterday (a story unto itself) with a documentary on TV in the background, I suddenly heard them mention Plei Me. I was immediately thrown back in time to the 80's and a friend I used to know named Pete. Pete was a Mexican about 10 years older than me who was in the Special Forces. Occasionally, I would ask him about being in Vietnam and all he would usually say was "Plei Me". Pete was personable and had a great sense of humor, but was also as tough as nails. Pete had zero respect for the 101st Airborne, whom he always referred to as "The Screaming Chickens"
Bill
Your unique on the ground perspective allows me to vicariously enjoy a little authenticity in a world taken over by virtual, sensational, chain store experiences. I was fortunate while younger to have experienced some of the locations you have shared while working. Your stories seem more engaging than what my memory can provide. The journey your words provide is both enjoyable as well as educational. Thank you for allowing me to tag along.
With poverty... it is curious. You don't notice it when you are well-to-do or middle class. It's like with kids... they don't exist until you have your own first baby. Then, suddenly, you see pregnant ladies everywhere, strollers, nurseries, toys and sweets.
So, I do not feel hatred for rich folks as fellow human beings. They just don't know poverty and or are oblivious to it. Even on their 5-star vacation to Vietnam, the rich guests don't see poverty, just happy exotic people whose food is so affordable, whose bodies are so slim and whose arts are so adorable.
Hi Thorsten,
I didn't know that you are the author of The Menticide Manual series. Good work and thanks.
I am indeed. Thanks! I can't get enough of Linh Dinh these days. 😁
I was born into affluence. Nobody was any happier because they had more money or toys. Been up and down in my nearly 60 years and I wasn't more or less happy whether on top or the bottom. Nobody ever died saying "I wish I had more money" and it seems money cannot buy happiness. Who'd have thought it?
Another great one! Glad you're finally able to make it back to Vietnam.
In reflecting back on all your culinary adventures during your travels, I must honestly confess that I just couldn't eat some of that stuff--I'm definitely no Andrew Zimmern. (Note that of all the weird and funky stuff he seemed to eat with gusto, the one thing I actually saw him express open revulsion for after consuming was Durian!)
But many of those who are finicky about everything they eat should also exercise those scruples when it comes to deciding what to put into their bodies via other pathways such as syringes, if you catch my drift.
Of all your inestimable adventures during the recent plague years, the biggest challenge may have been completing your international odyssey without getting jabbed--IMHO this may have been your wisest decision.
Take care--
Will see you in Vietnam, bro.
“After two years of bouncing across the globe, I’m simply exhausted.“
By design, the totalitarian Covid policies are designed to make travel even more problematic, difficult, and punitive - unless you’re a part of the ruling class. The peasants are to stay home from now on - tourism is just a fantasy - among the many fantasies coming your way - ie. eating meat, owning anything, free of war, sovereignty, etc…..
Delicious. You feed my soul....even though my long time vegan sensibility gets a little triggered!
Nice one. Hope things will be quieter in Vietnam, although Africa didn't seem so bad. I think the worst places to be in the next decades might as well be Europe and America, as the "new world order" crashes down on them. People at poor places will be at a less height to fall down from, and they are used to hardship. I recently saw a documentary about I don't remember which city in America, and everyone was so fat, really morbidly obese, even many of the homeless. It's gonna be tough for them. Then again, the meth addicts are thin but don't look much better.
You're a trip Linh. Stick with it mate. Anything new you publish is like finding a gem. For people who could only hope for such luck but for whom your gems are more valuable anyway. I am delighted to see the world you see through your eyes, wherever that happens to be. I only just missed visiting Vietnam as a youth in the least favorable circumstances but was brought up in the shadow of our ignominious contribution, since many of my friends were 'veterans' and army instructors too. Then we went through a couple of generations of refugees/immigrants from there. I've spent time in Cambodia while eloping with my Pakistani wife and parking her at a friend's hotel there while we sorted immigration to Oz. I had hopes of getting back one day and finishing my intention of getting to Vietnam. Once again in Cambodia Vietnam was always casting a shadow. I was enjoying your descriptions of life at your brother in law's (?) factory. Sorry if I mixed that up.
I often feel a sense of brotherhood with you. Partly our ages, and also attitudes to people and their habits and cultures. We're interacting with life from the same place if that means anything. I've never found a "superior" culture myself and am very sure I do not come from one.
I think Hamsun tries to eat his belt in Hunger. Maybe i read it somwhere else, but i know i have stumbled across many similar cases in literature.
Hi Yungjung, I don't think that's in Hunger. I'm glad you brought up the book, though. I read it nearly 40 years ago!
Glancing at it again just now, I found this miserable passage worth sharing:
I was terribly hungry, and I did not know what to do with myself and my shameless appetite. I writhed from side to side on the seat, and bowed my chest right down to my knees; I was almost distracted. When it got dark I jogged along to the Town Hall--God knows how I got there--and sat on the edge of the balustrade. I tore a pocket out of my coat and took to chewing it; not with any defined object, but with dour mien and unseeing eyes, staring straight into space. I could hear a group of little children playing around near me, and perceive, in an instinctive sort of way, some pedestrians pass me by; otherwise I observed nothing.
All at once, it enters my head to go to one of the meat bazaars underneath me, and beg a piece of raw meat. I go straight along the balustrade to the other side of the bazaar buildings, and descend the steps. When I had nearly reached the stalls on the lower floor, I called up the archway leading to the stairs, and made a threatening backward gesture, as if I were talking to a dog up there, and boldly addressed the first butcher I met.
"Ah, will you be kind enough to give me a bone for my dog?" I said; "only a bone. There needn't be anything on it; it's just to give him something to carry in his mouth."
I got the bone, a capital little bone, on which there still remained a morsel of meat, and hid it under my coat. I thanked the man so heartily that he looked at me in amazement.
"Oh, no need of thanks," said he.
"Oh yes; don't say that," I mumbled; "it is kindly done of you," and I ascended the steps again.
My heart was throbbing violently in my breast. I sneaked into one of the passages, where the forges are, as far in as I could go, and stopped outside a dilapidated door leading to a back-yard. There was no light to be seen anywhere, only blessed darkness all around me; and I began to gnaw at the bone.
It had no taste; a rank smell of blood oozed from it, and I was forced to vomit almost immediately. I tried anew. If I could only keep it down, it would, in spite of all, have some effect. It was simply a matter of forcing it to remain down there. But I vomited again. I grew wild, bit angrily into the meat, tore off a morsel, and gulped it down by sheer strength of will; and yet it was of no use. Just as soon as the little fragments of meat became warm in my stomach up they came again, worse luck. I clenched my hands in frenzy, burst into tears from sheer helplessness, and gnawed away as one possessed. I cried, so that the bone got wet and dirty with my tears, vomited, cursed and groaned again, cried as if my heart would break, and vomited anew. I consigned all the powers that be to the lowermost torture in the loudest voice.
Im glad i could remind you of such a great book. Harsh stuff! Havent read it myself in almost 20 yrs. Might reread it. Sad that scandis have no collective memory of how it could be back then. Might be reminded soon. On the topic of scandinavian writers, ever read Aksel Sandemose? I highly recommend him.. I wonder where i've read about the belt. Anyway, keep up the good work with this blog
Thank you Linh. Your excursion with Martha and dancing at the shebeen reminded me of Junior Kimbrough's juke joint in the documentary "You See Me Laughin' " about the Mississippi hill country. This essay was another welcome breath of warmth and color. Much appreciated.
It's called 'Omicron vs. Godzilla' btw, parody of the narrative.
Hello Mr. Dinh, did you see this? It fits in with your "covid" ideology and it's awesome! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBShKbTd6cc