Time spent in Vietnam: 3 days.
I now have my own room, motorbike, and phone in Vietnam. Within the next few days, I'll try learning about any spots worth knowing within walking distance. I'm a little afraid to ride my motorbike in Saigon traffic at the moment. I hope that I'll be able to laugh at my hesitation within a week; two at the most.
Nothing special to comment on, except that everything seems to be in place now to begin my life here in Vietnam.
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Blown fuse.
Time spent in Vietnam so far: just a little over three hours.
The plane ride, although exhausting, wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. I remember flying with United last time, and it was by far one hell of an ordeal. I flew with Eva Airlines this time, and it was really quite pleasant, even in economy class. The airport was extremely busy as I approached the terminal, so I feared the worst: having to stand in long lines that would take up all the time I allowed for myself to be there before my flight. Eva, however, was not busy at all. I walked into the terminal, checked in my luggage within 15 minutes, and wasn't even charged for my way overweight suitcase. Security took some time to get through, but I still was able to just chill out and relax for a little over an hour before my flight, which was really nice. "Great," I thought, "this trip is off to a good start."
Fast forward 20 hours later, and here I am in Vietnam. Of course, getting my bags took one hell of a long time, and with my experience, I feared that my bags were lost once again. I really did give up hope after half an hour, but finally the last load of bags started pouring out, and lo and behold, there they were. Seems like my bags like to take their time just as much as I do. Can't blame them for that. The entire time waiting at the conveyor belt was quite an experience in itself, as several Vietnamese men, who I can only assume were working for the airport, were climbing back and forth across the belt grabbing random suitcases and taking them to their owners. How the hell they knew what belonged to whom, I have no idea. One of the guys was about to grab my suitcases, but one quick look at me and he decided not to bother. I guess he sensed that there was no way I would tip him for something I could easily do myself.
Immediately upon walking out, a man approached me speaking what I expect to be the only English he knows: "You want taxi? Where you go?" I waved him off, telling him I'm expecting to meet my friend. I know he understood that I didn't want him to take me anywhere, yet he tried to grab my suitcases anyway. I looked him in the eye this time and said, "No, I'm meeting a friend," desperately clinging to my bags until he got the hint. I looked around and around and found no sign of the person who told me he would be there to pick me up. Reluctantly, I approached the man who just a few minutes ago tried to take my bags and asked if I could use his phone. "I'll give you two dollars," I said. Before I could finish explaining myself, he had his phone out ready to dial. "You have number?" he asked me. I gave him the number, and he proceed to dial and listen to it ring. "Goddammit," I thought. "I don't want him to try to talk my friend into getting me to go in a taxi with him." Once he heard a voice on the line, though, he quickly handed the phone to me.
"Hey man," I said to the voice on the phone. "I'm at the airport. Are you on your way still?"
"What? You're here? I thought you said you were coming tomorrow!"
"Nope. It's today, man. You want me to wait for you here, or should I just grab a cab and have them take me to you?"
"I'm working right now. I won't be home until about 8 PM."
It was noon. There was no fucking way I was hanging out at the airport for eight hours. Besides, I have a DJ gig at 9PM. This is not good.
"Hold on," he said. "Let me try calling my roommate to see if he's home to let you in. See if you can grab a cab, give him the address, and call me when you're on your way."
I looked at the guy I borrowed the phone from. Looks like I needed a ride after all. Well, I still didn't trust this dude. I gave him back his phone with three dollars and told him my friend was coming to pick me up. (I'm not usually a mistrusting type of person, but I have read and heard stories about taxi cabs ripping unsuspecting people off from the airport.) I walked away and looked for a cab I remember taking quite often when I was out here before: Vinasun.
This is where the real fun began. I showed him the address and asked if he knew where it was. "Okay," he said and proceeded to put my bags in the back of the car. "Oh well, fuck it," I thought and got into the cab. I tried making some small talk about being back after two years, but of course he spoke absolutely no English. I could only hope he knew where he was going. Once we were away from the airport, I spent about five minutes trying to explain to him that I needed to borrow his phone to call my friend. Finally I got through to my buddy again.
"Hey, so he didn't answer his phone," he told me. "But go over anyway. He might just be sleeping. You can leave your bags with the lady next door while you check."
I didn't like the idea of leaving two suitcases filled with thousands of dollars of equipment with a random Vietnamese lady that runs a convenience store in her house, but what choice did I have? I left them there and proceeded up four flights of stairs. "Fuck, it is going to suck bringing up those suitcases," I thought. I proceeded to bang on the door and yell out the roommates name. I felt like some crazy druggie looking for a fix, or a mobster demanding to get paid. Either way, this didn't feel like the right way to introduce myself to someone. He answered the door, and I told him I'd be right back with my stuff.
I went back to the nice Vietnamese lady, bought some water, and tried to tip her for not stealing my stuff. She smiled at me and shook her head. Awesome. I'll keep my lousy tip, thank you very much. I dragged the suitcases up the stairs and finally felt like I could relax. I called my friend from the roommates phone and told him I was in the apartment now. All's good. I asked if he had a power adapter I could use to set up my DJ gear and get ready for the gig tonight. He told me where I could find it, along with the phone I left there two years ago. Sweet!
I got my gear out of my bag, set it up on the living room table, and plugged my surge protected power strip into the wall, when all of a sudden... BANG! The outlet exploded literally in my face and all the power in the apartment went out. The roommate came out of his room. "Did you hear that?" he asked. Still a bit shocked, I looked at him and said, "Yeah, I almost just died, I think." "What happened?" "The outlet literally just exploded and blew the cover off of the wall." Dumbfounded, we both stood there for a while thinking about what we should do. "Has this ever happened before?" I asked him. "No, never," he replied. Later on, I asked him how long he's lived in this apartment. His response was about two years. He lived there for two years and never had any problems with the power. I was there for fifteen minutes and I already blew up an outlet and caused a blackout in the entire apartment. We managed to get the power back, but the outlet is still fried. I'm glad none of my equipment was plugged in, and am very skeptical about doing so at all anywhere in this country now.
Now I'm hanging out in the living room typing this up, listening to the pouring rain about five feet away from me hitting the balcony. I'm trying to relax, but all I can think about is that I really hope I don't blow out the venue tonight trying to connect my gear. Even worse, I hope I don't short out any of my equipment, especially my laptop. Oh yeah, and that phone I left here... The screen is broken, so I can't even tell when or if it turns on, let alone make or receive any calls. So much for that.
Oh well. At least I'm a millionaire now.
The plane ride, although exhausting, wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. I remember flying with United last time, and it was by far one hell of an ordeal. I flew with Eva Airlines this time, and it was really quite pleasant, even in economy class. The airport was extremely busy as I approached the terminal, so I feared the worst: having to stand in long lines that would take up all the time I allowed for myself to be there before my flight. Eva, however, was not busy at all. I walked into the terminal, checked in my luggage within 15 minutes, and wasn't even charged for my way overweight suitcase. Security took some time to get through, but I still was able to just chill out and relax for a little over an hour before my flight, which was really nice. "Great," I thought, "this trip is off to a good start."
Fast forward 20 hours later, and here I am in Vietnam. Of course, getting my bags took one hell of a long time, and with my experience, I feared that my bags were lost once again. I really did give up hope after half an hour, but finally the last load of bags started pouring out, and lo and behold, there they were. Seems like my bags like to take their time just as much as I do. Can't blame them for that. The entire time waiting at the conveyor belt was quite an experience in itself, as several Vietnamese men, who I can only assume were working for the airport, were climbing back and forth across the belt grabbing random suitcases and taking them to their owners. How the hell they knew what belonged to whom, I have no idea. One of the guys was about to grab my suitcases, but one quick look at me and he decided not to bother. I guess he sensed that there was no way I would tip him for something I could easily do myself.
Immediately upon walking out, a man approached me speaking what I expect to be the only English he knows: "You want taxi? Where you go?" I waved him off, telling him I'm expecting to meet my friend. I know he understood that I didn't want him to take me anywhere, yet he tried to grab my suitcases anyway. I looked him in the eye this time and said, "No, I'm meeting a friend," desperately clinging to my bags until he got the hint. I looked around and around and found no sign of the person who told me he would be there to pick me up. Reluctantly, I approached the man who just a few minutes ago tried to take my bags and asked if I could use his phone. "I'll give you two dollars," I said. Before I could finish explaining myself, he had his phone out ready to dial. "You have number?" he asked me. I gave him the number, and he proceed to dial and listen to it ring. "Goddammit," I thought. "I don't want him to try to talk my friend into getting me to go in a taxi with him." Once he heard a voice on the line, though, he quickly handed the phone to me.
"Hey man," I said to the voice on the phone. "I'm at the airport. Are you on your way still?"
"What? You're here? I thought you said you were coming tomorrow!"
"Nope. It's today, man. You want me to wait for you here, or should I just grab a cab and have them take me to you?"
"I'm working right now. I won't be home until about 8 PM."
It was noon. There was no fucking way I was hanging out at the airport for eight hours. Besides, I have a DJ gig at 9PM. This is not good.
"Hold on," he said. "Let me try calling my roommate to see if he's home to let you in. See if you can grab a cab, give him the address, and call me when you're on your way."
I looked at the guy I borrowed the phone from. Looks like I needed a ride after all. Well, I still didn't trust this dude. I gave him back his phone with three dollars and told him my friend was coming to pick me up. (I'm not usually a mistrusting type of person, but I have read and heard stories about taxi cabs ripping unsuspecting people off from the airport.) I walked away and looked for a cab I remember taking quite often when I was out here before: Vinasun.
This is where the real fun began. I showed him the address and asked if he knew where it was. "Okay," he said and proceeded to put my bags in the back of the car. "Oh well, fuck it," I thought and got into the cab. I tried making some small talk about being back after two years, but of course he spoke absolutely no English. I could only hope he knew where he was going. Once we were away from the airport, I spent about five minutes trying to explain to him that I needed to borrow his phone to call my friend. Finally I got through to my buddy again.
"Hey, so he didn't answer his phone," he told me. "But go over anyway. He might just be sleeping. You can leave your bags with the lady next door while you check."
I didn't like the idea of leaving two suitcases filled with thousands of dollars of equipment with a random Vietnamese lady that runs a convenience store in her house, but what choice did I have? I left them there and proceeded up four flights of stairs. "Fuck, it is going to suck bringing up those suitcases," I thought. I proceeded to bang on the door and yell out the roommates name. I felt like some crazy druggie looking for a fix, or a mobster demanding to get paid. Either way, this didn't feel like the right way to introduce myself to someone. He answered the door, and I told him I'd be right back with my stuff.
I went back to the nice Vietnamese lady, bought some water, and tried to tip her for not stealing my stuff. She smiled at me and shook her head. Awesome. I'll keep my lousy tip, thank you very much. I dragged the suitcases up the stairs and finally felt like I could relax. I called my friend from the roommates phone and told him I was in the apartment now. All's good. I asked if he had a power adapter I could use to set up my DJ gear and get ready for the gig tonight. He told me where I could find it, along with the phone I left there two years ago. Sweet!
I got my gear out of my bag, set it up on the living room table, and plugged my surge protected power strip into the wall, when all of a sudden... BANG! The outlet exploded literally in my face and all the power in the apartment went out. The roommate came out of his room. "Did you hear that?" he asked. Still a bit shocked, I looked at him and said, "Yeah, I almost just died, I think." "What happened?" "The outlet literally just exploded and blew the cover off of the wall." Dumbfounded, we both stood there for a while thinking about what we should do. "Has this ever happened before?" I asked him. "No, never," he replied. Later on, I asked him how long he's lived in this apartment. His response was about two years. He lived there for two years and never had any problems with the power. I was there for fifteen minutes and I already blew up an outlet and caused a blackout in the entire apartment. We managed to get the power back, but the outlet is still fried. I'm glad none of my equipment was plugged in, and am very skeptical about doing so at all anywhere in this country now.
Now I'm hanging out in the living room typing this up, listening to the pouring rain about five feet away from me hitting the balcony. I'm trying to relax, but all I can think about is that I really hope I don't blow out the venue tonight trying to connect my gear. Even worse, I hope I don't short out any of my equipment, especially my laptop. Oh yeah, and that phone I left here... The screen is broken, so I can't even tell when or if it turns on, let alone make or receive any calls. So much for that.
Oh well. At least I'm a millionaire now.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Time's up, Los Angeles.
I'm down to my last few hours here in Los Angeles, and I have still yet to finish packing. It's mostly procrastination, of course, and the fact that I'd rather be listening to music and thinking about DJ sets, but I'm also overwhelmed. There is so much stuff to take. Audio gear, DJ gear, clothes, books... fuck. The only thing I can think is, "I hope there's an elevator where I'll be living, 'cause this will be a bitch to carry up four flights of stairs." With my luck, there won't be, but honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm also super not looking forward to my 20 hour trip to get to Vietnam. Sure, I have time to read some books, do some writing, maybe work on some music (of course I'll be taking my laptop on the plane), and brush up on my Vietnamese (through one of the books I'm taking, not the passengers), but holy hell... 20 hours?!? I think we get three meals on the plane. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. That's pretty ridiculous if you ask me.
What I am looking forward to is my first DJ gig in Vietnam, which just so happens to be the day I land. This is my first blog post ever, so I'm still not quite sure how to use it to its full extent. I'll be sure to take pictures of this event, which of course will go all over Facebook, but I'll try to post some cool stuff here every now and then.
So yes, this is my first post, and it's quite a boring one, but hey, I haven't left yet. The stories have yet to come, and trust me, they will come. I am here for your entertainment. I will not let you down.
Like I always say: "Make sure to keep your story interesting."
I'm also super not looking forward to my 20 hour trip to get to Vietnam. Sure, I have time to read some books, do some writing, maybe work on some music (of course I'll be taking my laptop on the plane), and brush up on my Vietnamese (through one of the books I'm taking, not the passengers), but holy hell... 20 hours?!? I think we get three meals on the plane. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. That's pretty ridiculous if you ask me.
What I am looking forward to is my first DJ gig in Vietnam, which just so happens to be the day I land. This is my first blog post ever, so I'm still not quite sure how to use it to its full extent. I'll be sure to take pictures of this event, which of course will go all over Facebook, but I'll try to post some cool stuff here every now and then.
So yes, this is my first post, and it's quite a boring one, but hey, I haven't left yet. The stories have yet to come, and trust me, they will come. I am here for your entertainment. I will not let you down.
Like I always say: "Make sure to keep your story interesting."
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