The Squeaky Robot

A Meddling Robot in a Human's World

Posts from the “Life” Category

Crowds & People

Posted on September 9, 2014

Hang Ma

There are three types of people at festivals: those who work, those who play, and those who people watch.

Star

A woman douses her festival fruits with sugar, chili and salt.

Uncle Ho

The kitsch needed to celebrate Mid-Autumn: masks, lanterns, noise-makers, drums, moon stars and Uncle Ho.

Vendor

Food vendors must compete for attention.

Snake

Children wear masks and growl like tigers to frighten Ra Hu so he will not gobble up the entire moon.

lights

The Old Quarter delights and suffocates.

Child

Look up! A deep blue sky fades into a pink dusk. Radiant lanterns float in the trees. Bubbles whirl through the flow of the streets. People chant under a large red moon. These hypnotic whimsies distract from more important things on the ground.

Lanterns

A crowd inches along Hang Ma, Lantern Street, like oozing lava.

Bo Bia

Bo Bia is a thin pancake with honeycomb, coconut fibers and sesame seeds. Buy one to try it, of course, and also because these women work incredibly hard.

Bubbles

Chaos itself looks at Hanoi and says, “No, thank you.”

Lanterns on Quang Ba

Posted on July 29, 2014

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Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you thought or, perhaps more accurately, you are your own source of surprises. Before Vietnam I would tromp around loudly declaring, “All I want is travel! I have permanently itchy feet!” and a host of similar yet colorful varieties of this. I remembered how it used to be on any given trip, the thrill of the journey, the dirt that didn’t matter, the tranquil uncertainty of choosing left over right for no reason. It was this feeling of controlled falling I craved, and the lessons and adventures that were inherent. Hanoi would only be a juncture in my grand scheme, for the whole point was unrelenting, intrepid exploration across the Asian continent and beyond.

It’s been five months and I haven’t left Hanoi, save for one hour outside, twice. And I don’t feel that pressure building up, the one that tells me I should be heading somewhere newer, the same one that presses on you as you’re running towards the edge of a cliff about to plunge into a turquoise sea. Rather, Hanoi is a winding finite place with surprises everywhere like a dense Easter egg hunt, and it has kept my restless soul from boredom longer than anticipated. Navigating similar roads everyday, I feel at peace; this traffic, this maze but a game. Being able to give directions and recommend street food fills me with immense pride. I enter classrooms and I’m greeted with the familiar shrieks of kids whose aptitude for learning English constantly impresses. In these routines I feel the delight that my small students show when they run up to me with a drawing of a ship or an elephant that is particularly on point.

But every Easter egg hunt has an end, and I’ll be gone from Hanoi in October. In the meantime things will be business as usual, and this means ignoring the lofty abstracts of plans and time and dealing only with tangible goals and problems. Where should I fix my bike? What should I do about the student who clings to my legs like a hyperactive monkey? What neighborhood haven’t I explored? When will I go? What food haven’t I tried yet? Where can I find it? Unlike at home where everyone asks me what I plan to do that day, that week, that year, here it seems none of us have a past or a future; we’re just enjoying Hanoi together until the eggs run out.

Every night along the lake the women come out with their carts of drinks and snacks. The straw mats are rolled out and flattened, the lanterns lit. If you find the good spot, you’re next to stairs that lead straight into the water, black like sloshing oil. Some groups gather around the light and talk politics while spitting sunflower seeds into the water, others are silent as they lean on each other and look onto a mellow humming cityscape. It’s one of the many places in Hanoi where I forget before’s and after’s, for there are mats to lie on and stars to count.

Grab a Seat

Posted on July 11, 2014

For the budget-conscious person in Hanoi, there are no better alternatives to eating than traditional Vietnamese dishes found on every sidewalk, corner and alleyway. One needn’t look far. The food here is delicious, cheap and fun, as it requires a level of proactivity and interactivity that is unfamiliar to many cuisines worldwide. I say proactivity because the best places in Hanoi only serve one thing, and they only serve that one thing for a short window in the day. My favorite bun cha place is open for three hours a day at most, even less if they run out of food. So you must plan and run. Once you plop down on a dubious plastic cube, the interaction begins. Fix your plate with whatever…

Crickets & Cubs

Posted on June 12, 2014

I sing to myself while driving my bike. No one can hear me in the wind and the rumbling purr of my 1982 Honda Cub, lime-green if you want to know. But on my way to meet with a new student, the purr became a thunderous rattle, and I couldn’t hear my own voice anymore. After the short meeting, the Cub was completely shot. The kickstarter shook loose, the brake pedal was jiggling but somehow also stuck. With every attempt at the gas the rattle grew louder, opaque exhaust spewed into the air. The quiet black alleys of West Lake reached new heights of emptiness as I solemnly rolled the machine forward. What could I do? Mechanics were all closed at this hour. I…

Pho Xao

Posted on May 25, 2014

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If you follow The Squeaky Robot Instagram, you know it’s mostly just pictures of my dog and of pho xao, fried rice noodles with vegetables and meat. Sometimes doused with soy sauce, sometimes with garlic vinegar and a homemade chili concoction. While I can’t explain this love affair, I happily accept it. The catch is, I like so much lime in my pho xao the hole-in-the-wall I frequent sometimes refuses me limes because “they need them for other customers”. Or something like that.

 

The Great Divide

Posted on May 1, 2014

For our purposes let’s steal a casual definition of dissociation from Wikipedia: “a mild detachment from immediate surroundings.” The expat community in Hanoi is so large there is nothing I can confidently say about it, other than it is small. Meaning five thousand expats have only a few well-known places to congregate on Friday nights when the state curfew takes hold and the xe oms and cabbies belong to a different state, the one known as red-faced inebriation. It is no surprise, then, that in the confines of Hanoi proper, white people collide with each other on dance floors, in restroom lines, waiting for drinks at bars. Even on the road, I kid you not, I was once driving north on Au Co and…

Quest

Posted on April 27, 2014

It was a two day affair in the woods, right next to Ba Vi National Park. An open air music festival and art exhibition called Quest. There was: a well-stocked bar and okay food; neon cubes; psychedelic tents with swaying glass disco balls; amazing live music in between subpar beats; a brown lake in which to swim; volleyball, my favorite; swings in trees; statues of giant elk; workshops for belly dancing and yoga and more; fire dancers and the smell of something burning; there was sideways rain and sky shattering lightening; dancing to Ray Charles in said rain; there were good friends and picnics and new friends; there were drugged-up expats, swallowing white pills and inhaling something from white balloons, letting them fart up into the sky and then scatter all over; there were pirates and tigers and characters of all sorts; there were fire ants, too, I think.

It was a two day affair in the woods, but I was happy to call it quits around 3am. I rolled into Hanoi when the sky was turning pink and I thought about Ba Vi, and how it was nice to see the stars.
sunflower

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