Friday night, I went with a few friends to Hanoi Rock City, a bar/concert venue near West Lake. It was this neat, half-unroofed venue with mural-covered walls and and upstairs, enclosed concert room. This particular day was a mustache party dedicated to men's health during this fine Movember. I didn't have a mustache, but there were many people there (Vietnamese and foreign) who had painted mustaches on or had giant, fake ones. We snuck into the concert room and watched as a band took the stage. The woman at the lead mic was incredibly slight and looked more like a Buddhist nun than anything else. She seemed quiet and unassuming, but then opened her mouth. We were at a Vietnamese death metal concert. She screamed as loud as possible while the band backed her and the back screen showed stop-motion videos. After they finished their set, we headed downstairs and met an American woman who had been working in Hanoi for about a year in something to do with HIV. She was really lovely and glad to meet some other Americans. I then ate a hotdog. It was delicious.
On Saturday, Maeve and I joined Ngan's family on a trek to her mother's home town. (I forgot my camera unfortunately.) This one was only about an hour away from school. It used to have another name, but a few years ago it was incorporated into Hanoi. Ngan's uncle was kind enough to show us around the town for a little while. We saw some old structure, hung out with the village's buffalo, and went into the pagoda. I watched Ngan place offering money in strategic locations around the pagoda and was given three sticks of incense. I followed Ngan's uncle around the pagoda and put my incense sticks in three different locations.
It turns out that Ngan's uncle is the village historian, photographer and writer. He gave Maeve and me each a small, tape-bound book of poems that he wrote during and after the War. It's all in Vietnamese, so I can't read it, but he signed it. I got Ngan to translate the title and what he had written, a well-wish for my life as a student. It is truly a treasure. I'll have to find someway to translate a few of the poems so that I can tell what they are about.
We eventually walked to one of Ngan's relative's house. We ate lunch of a yellow, tofu soup of green bananas, snails, potatoes and probably other stuff. There was a boiled duck (I'm convinced that boiling a bird gets rid of everything good about it). I realized that what I had thought was liver last time was, in fact coagulated pigs' blood. There was also papaya salad with peanuts and beef with morning glory. It was all delicious, and we finished it off with bananas and pomelos. As with every time I go with Ngan to one of her family homes, we were sent upstairs to rest after lunch. Just like every other time, I told myself that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep and then passed out very quickly.
On our way back out of the village and back to Hanoi, we stopped at one of Ngan's mother's friends to get some fruit and pick up a chicken. We walked back to the car with a bag full of pomelos and star fruit while Ngan's mother carried a live chicken by the feet. When we got back to the car, Nagn's mom put the chicken (still alive) in a plastic grocery bag. At first, I was worried that the chicken would suffocate because it was in a plastic bag, but then she tore a hole for its head to stick out of (though I imagine that chicken was not long for this world).
I have two papers, a presentation, and two assignments to complete in the next two weeks before I leave for home by way of Japan. I have no more weekends to spend in Hanoi given that this weekend I will be in Singapore and next weekend we will all be in Ha Long Bay. This program is rapidly coming to a close, and I don't know how I feel about leaving the home I have here. At the same time, it will be nice to be in the land of Southern food and quiet while sleeping.
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