Thăng Long

Equal Protection

2010-08-04T19:34:00.001-07:00

Does anybody really think that the authors of the U.S. Constitution (and its 14th Amendment) created a right to gay marriage?

The basis for Mr. Walker's ruling is absurd, and he certainly could have done better if he really wanted to prevent its overturn. Compare his opinion with Susan Bolton's opinion when she overturned Arizona's immigration law, and it's clear who did their homework... The problem created in his ruling is whether states have the right to arbitrarily restrict access to marriage for any reason at all. Laws that prevent close relatives from marrying are equally "arbitrary," created from the same Puritanical oppression that prohibited gay marriage, and reaffirmed in 19th century movements promoting better "breeding." The real question is whether the writers of the 14th amendment created a right to all these marital rights, or simply a subset of them. If so, then who is to decide which ones? If not, then who among us really is "cool" with incest?

If we are honest, we'll admit we don't care; we desperately need the Constitution to fit our current pop-culture fads and beliefs...

Things not to say on TV

2010-07-21T05:19:00.000-07:00

Rule number one of government service: don't admit to having done illegal things on television.

The Headscarf "Tax"

2010-07-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

In an attempt to enhance womens' rights, the French National Assembly has voted today to strip women of the right to publically wear two variants of the Muslim headscarf, the niqab or burka.

Confusingly, the bill purportedly wasn't intended to single out any religion, since it applies equally to whatever religious group chooses to wear variants of the Muslim headscarves. Critics, however, called it unconstitutional, noting that it was "nothing more than the fear of those who are different."

In an effort to reduce the law's impact, French businessman Rachid Nekkaz said he would set up a 1m-euro fund to help women pay fines imposed under the new law.

White House claims credit for economic recovery

2010-04-04T14:28:00.000-07:00

There's nothing more ridiculous than a President taking claim for the positive performance of the entire economy based on a stimulus package designed to cut long-term economic growth. In other words, in the end, according to the administration's own economic models and the CBO, we'll be worse off with his plan than if we'd just said no and instead did nothing.

Add to that the irony of the President taking credit for doing the very thing that he practically castrated Bush for doing--namely, pursuing short-run gains at the cost of long-run economic performance.

Freedom, seatbelt laws, and self-enforcing mechanisms

2010-03-21T08:13:00.000-07:00

I have always found seatbelt laws, helmet laws, "no swimming" laws at inherently dangerous beaches, and other such restrictions to be incredibly odd, simply as behavioral experiments. Perhaps my weakness is that I was trained as an economist, and not a psychologist, and that as an undergraduate I was handed a set of analytical tools that included "rationality" and "self-interest". A rationalist would ask why it is necessary to tell people "buckle up" if they are so self-interested since, after all, law or no law, there already exists a very strong deterrence mechanism, namely a higher risk of death. If we are all rational, then anyone who wasn't convinced by the heightened risk of death will most likely not "buckle up" over a $50 fine. If we have better information about our own preferences than does an outside agent (this is always true), we will be able to make the correct decision about whether or not we should wear a seatbelt.

It is a well-known fact in the history of seatbelts that people were originally quite averse to driving with them. If we assume that people are, in fact, rational and self-interested, then the problem must lie with information. Either they do not believe that seatbelts will save their lives (insufficient information about seatbelts), or they believe that they will not get into an accident (insufficient information about reality), or they are simply uninformed about the effectiveness of seatbelts.

The next line of questioning (similar, but different) asks why anyone would care to pass a seatbelt law if the only people who incurred the costs were those who would have broken the law anyway. In other words, observability aside, if we allow people to smoke, overeat, and have unprotected sex, why must we then forbid them from driving without a seatbelt? All these things are arguably socially costly: i.e., one justification for seatbelt laws is that, if a certain fraction of all medical costs are always borne publicly, and since the medical expense incurred for someone in an accident not wearing a seatbelt is higher on average than the medical expense incurred for someone in an accident who was wearing a seatbelt, seatbelt laws represent a reduction in the public fiscal burden. But other legal things are socially costly, too--increases in general overall obesity and smoking increase my health insurance premiums, though I am neither obese nor a smoker. To be consistent, we could consider passing obesity laws and a nation-wide smoking ban, and these could be quite effective, but the obvious sacrifice would be our own personal freedom, and would be conceding that the government informed to make important decisions for us on intimately personal matters--something I am not ready to agree to!

In short, my feeling is that either (a) people are not as rational as we would like, in the sense that they are unable to correctly perceive catastrophic risk, or (b) we do not value our own lives as much as we value the lives of others. My wife noted that we generally blame catastrophic outcomes on the authorities--for instance, when someone drowns in a lake where there is a "swim at your own risk" sign, society will tend to feel obligated to forbid swimming in lakes where there is no lifeguard, in order to protect its citizens from their own stupidity. Arguably this is because of our unreasonable expectations, our desire to offer a solution to every problem, even if that solution does not help at all...

State rights and healthcare mandates

2010-03-21T04:29:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, I have always been fiercely provincial and not much of a globalist. True, I may have married a wonderful Vietnamese gal, and I will soon begin work at the UN in New York, and I did spend a year in France during high school, but I have always felt to be far more connected with the local concerns of life on Cape Ann, Massachusetts, than the problems anywhere else, and I've felt far more often than not that so-called "national issues" are usually best addressed with local responses. Things like gay marriage, health care, and so forth are local questions for Massachusetts alone to decide for Massachusetts alone--by good precedent, the federal government should never be able to tell you who you can marry, since it does not have the authority to issue any sort of marriage license; nor should it decide whether you should be required to buy health insurance, car insurance, or life insurance--these are all issues that states should decide, as Massachusetts has for itself. I am far more accepting of the idea that Massachusetts imposes a healthcare mandate upon Massachusetts than I am of the idea that New York imposes one on Massachusetts, or Massachusetts imposes one on Virginia, or that any combination of states imposes a healthcare mandate on the citizens of other states. Certainly there are questions that are best answered at the federal level, but these should be obvious exceptions in cases where there is little controversy--and like it or not, this healthcare bill is extremely controversial.

Another reason to get a stick-shift

2010-03-09T06:05:00.001-08:00

I will never buy an automatic car. If this guy had been driving a stick-shift, he could thrown the clutch and began coasting immediately.

Obama: The Insurance Salesman That Wouldn't Leave

2010-03-05T12:57:00.001-08:00

From WSJ.com today: '"It's always a bad sign when a chief executive tells members of Congress of his own party to ignore the politics," says presidential historian Al Felzenberg. "It usually means he's got a bad product."'

Sort of reminds me when someone selling insurance comes to your door, and you say no, but they just won't quit, and you're stuck in the awkward position wondering what to do, because you can see that they're reasonably nice, but that they're just not listening to you...

Tibet, again?

2010-02-23T17:49:00.001-08:00

China responded to the Dalai Lama's visit. My response as your average guy:

(1)     I'd bet a significant number of Americans see China as an unwanted influence in Tibet and also are advocates of "Tibetan Independence"--not because they don't know Chinese history, but because it doesn't matter how long China has been occupying Tibet. China occupied Vietnam for a thousand years. The US was part of Great Britain for a good while, too. My guess is that many Americans see the Tibetan cause as worth of the great split, for whatever reason I could care less.

(2)     It is no secret that the US (and most Americans) views the Dalai Lama as both a respected religious leader and as a respected political figure. While Obama may play a political game with China by claiming one way or the other, it would be silly to think he somehow supported China's occupation of Tibet.

(3)     China tends to respond in these cryptic messages that make it seem like they're out of touch with the real problem. They pretend like we all agree and it's just a matter of reminding us of certain facts. The real fact is that--once again, only a guess--most Americans politely disagree with China fundamentally on its position, and resent China's patronising attitude in responding as it did.

Google and the NSA

2010-02-05T06:00:00.001-08:00

All this hype about Google teaming up with the NSA seems, well, uninformed. According to The Guardian today, Marc Rotenberg of the Electronic Privacy Information Centre worried that this "secret agreement [...] could impact the privacy of millions of users of Google's products and services around the world."

This sounds a bit odd, especially since the cyber-attacks that prompted this agreement posed a far greater risk to users' privacy--and in this sense, users' privacy would improve as a result of the secret agreement. So in that sense, Mr. Rotenberg is right--the secret agreement would "impact" privacy in a very large way, by substantially reducing users' exposure to criminal hacking.

You really think the NSA needs a not-so-secret agreement with Google to collect information about us?

One bad tax idea

2010-01-29T15:03:00.001-08:00

Obama is again touting his version of tax reform, which eliminates major tax exemptions for U.S. firms having operations overseas. (Obama calls this "shipping jobs overseas.") Currently, the United States is the only developed country to tax the foreign-earned profits of locally-based companies [1]. Unconcerned about such things, he argues that his reform would improve fairness and encourage firms to keep jobs in the United States, being "a down payment on the larger tax reform we need to make our tax system simpler and fairer."

Fair? He still doesn't get it. "Fair" would mean dropping the excessively boring appeal to injustice. If anything, since the U.S. has the second highest corporate tax rate among developed countries, "fair" would mean lowering tax rates for firms earning profits in the United States, not raising them on firms earning profits abroad (the third highest corporate tax rate is a full 5% lower than the U.S. tax rate). "Fair" would mean rewarding firms for innovation and efficiency, not spanking them for sensibly managing tax exposure. (So it's okay for a firm to maximize gross profits, but not net profits? Go figure.)

Whatever his logic, it is clear that his version of fairness is inconsistent with anything that constitutes reasonable economic sense.

[1] "Obama Targets Overseas Tax Dodge," Washington Post, 5/5/09, accessed 1/29/10.

TSA: 8-year-old kid has been on terror watch list for 7 years

2010-01-14T13:18:00.001-08:00

Isn't it time we said something about this sort of thing? What kind of security is this? Just a tad ridiculous, no?

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/14/nyregion/14watchlist.html

Newark Security Breach

2010-01-08T21:36:00.001-08:00

What is funny about this whole thing in Newark is that, for all the accusations that this guy broke the law and is a "criminal" (or so Sen. Lautenberg says; but I mean, the alleged criminal is a graduate student of neuroscience at Rutgers University and obviously made a simple mistake), we are genuinely safer because of him. As a direct benefit of this man's blundering past security, the TSA will now fix yet another glaring mistake in its own terrible implementation of airport security. If we look at this correctly, he ought not be arrested--he should be publicly recognized for his contributions to domestic security. Who knew that you could just wander past the TSA checkpoint? Thanks to this man, this is no longer a mystery! His arrest shows the unwillingness of the government to point the finger where it should be pointed--at the TSA for its shoddy security, and not at a guy who was able to wander past security and who left twenty minutes after he came.

Hands off the homeless

2010-01-08T06:55:00.000-08:00

In response to the extreme cold this season, CNN put out an article detailing what can be done to help the homeless. Their first bit of advice comes as a bit of a surprise to me: "... those who work with the homeless every day agree you generally should leave social services to the professionals."

I must say that this is perhaps the worst way to begin an article about helping the homeless, mainly because it caters completely to our own tendencies to ignore easy solutions. I work in Washington DC, and I never stop and give money to the homeless people outside work. Why? Because I'm like 95% of the rest of the passers-by--maybe a bit lazy, not wanting to shuffle through my pockets to find change, but most of all not confident that it'll do any good. I mean, the same homeless guys have been out there for years, I hear, and I don't think it's because they haven't collected enough spare change. Any income received by the homeless person will make a homeless existence a bit more bearable, so long as it is below a certain threshold (or else he'd get a studio apartment or something). Economists know that, on the margin, in a choice between not working (defined to be begging) and working (defined to be some non-begging productive activity), not working becomes slightly more preferable as the returns to not working increase. Since (by assumption) a homeless guy isn't working anyway, his preferences towards working are already established. Since the marginal effect of a monetary handout makes not working more appealing, the net effect of "giving alms to the poor" strictly discourages seeking a job. So giving money to homeless people may not be the best idea if our goal is to get homeless people off the streets.

My guess is that this was what CNN was thinking when they wrote the article. They're simply re-iterating the common analysis that giving a monetary handout allows a homeless dude to buy stuff that isn't in his best interest--stuff like booze, sex, or whatever. But, they argue, giving a blanket or a sandwich does a man a lot of good. And I agree. But this doesn't somehow excuse us from our duty towards that guy on the street. First of all, speaking from my own perspective, I'm guilty of not doing enough to help the people I pass each day. I could have asked to see if they needed this or that, but I didn't, even though I probably had the means to get a double cheeseburger at McDonald's or whatever. The reason I don't do it isn't because I don't have enough time, or because I don't have enough money-- although I'd like you to believe these things so that I don't look bad.

I'd tie this into the permanent income hypothesis. A homeless guy on the streets knows that, each day, the amount of money he collects from begging is subject to chance. Maybe he'll collect $15 in a day, or maybe he'll collect $30. Whatever the variation, he'll probably know that it's rare not to collect under, say, $8 in a day if he gives minimum effort. This upper minimum is his "permanent" income, income he knows that he can spend in a given time and that he is going to get the next period. Assuming homeless people don't use banks and that they don't carry around large amounts of cash (say, they never carry more than $50), they spend the rest of the "transitory" income on one-time goodies or whatever. Or they invest it. Or something else--I have no basis for guessing.

My point is that helping the homeless isn't a glory game--they'll probably get pissed off at you and tell you to go away if you poke around in their business--and it could accidentally end up discouraging work efforts. But it is nevertheless important to put a personal touch on "social services"--if everything starts and ends with a bureaucracy, there is nothing but "entitlement"; however, if you make a personal attempt to buy a blanket, and hand it off to a homeless guy without making a big deal over it (better: do it when he's not looking), you could end up saving his life--and far more effectively than any professional could, since you're the one noticing the need first. I hate the idea that people are being discouraged from taking initiatives (most don't take any initiatives that could even be discouraged) beyond calling a hotline. We ought to be the hotline.

If I pass a homeless guy who, for lack of a blanket, will die in the cold, I am an accomplice to his death if I have the means to assist but do not.

Healthcare Mandate

2009-12-22T15:24:00.001-08:00

In part as a result of my desire to avoid the pesky "Healthcare Mandate" in Massachusetts, I have relocated to Virginia. However, to my horror, I am discovering that the current health "care" (what a name!) bill also has a mandate! As a relatively young and healthy person, it thus seems that there is nothing I can do to avoid subsidising someone else's health coverage. I don't think we've realized to what extent this bill is a fundamental break with this country's past--no longer are death and taxes the only things you can avoid. Even with the draft, there was a chance you wouldn't be selected. The health "care" bill is a sort of permanent draft where everyone gets their number chosen. And even if I move to Tombouctou, Mali (in Africa), I'll still have to pay taxes to support this expensive system. What a nightmare! This whole thing is becoming much more of a burden than I'd ever imagined...

This has me looking with curiosity towards the history of the Republic of Vermont. and its very interesting independence movement, as discussed in the Washington Post...

TSA Screwballs

2009-12-04T16:33:00.001-08:00

I am sitting with my shoes off in the Baltimore Airport, right outside the TSA checkpoint. The TSA just took my toothpaste because it was in a tube that had a net weight of 4.6 ounces, or 130.4 grams. The online TSA regulations prohibit "3.4 ounce (100ml) bottle or more (by volume)". Note the emphasis on volume. When I tried to explain the difference between weight and volume, they looked at me and said, "This is 4.6 ounces. We prohibit anything more than 3.4 ounces." I showed her that the container itself had to be less than three fluid ounces, because three fluid ounces is a bit more than six cubic inches, and and the toothpaste tube was less than an inch in diameter and only about four inches long. She then said, "Would you like to talk to my supervisor?"

"Yes, I said." He came over and said the exact same thing. I then gave up because I realized I was talking to a bunch of college drop-out idiots.

Interesting Quotes By Key Democrats Prior to the War in Iraq

2009-10-24T17:15:00.000-07:00

Loads of very sensible people claim that former President Bush lied in offering pre-war justification for the Iraq War. Yet this key document prepared by John D. Rockefeller IV (D-WV) sheds an interesting light on these claims. I have attached below some key quotes made by Democratic Senators that parallel all of the faulty statements made by the Bush administration--indicating that Bush's judgments were far more mainstream and commonly accepted than hindsight would have us believe:

Senator Hillary Clinton: In the four years since the inspectors left, intelligence reports show that Saddam Hussein has worked to rebuild his chemical and biological weapons stock, his missile delivery capability, and his nuclear program. He has given aid, comfort and sanctuary to terrorists, including al-Qa’ida members. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator John D. Rockefeller IV: There is unmistakable evidence that Saddam Hussein is working aggressively to develop nuclear weapons and will likely have nuclear weapons within the next five years. He could have it earlier if he is able to obtain fissile materials on the outside market, which is possible—difficult, but possible. We also should remember we have always underestimated the progress that Saddam Hussein has been able to make in the development of weapons of mass destruction. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator Charles Schumer: Saddam Hussein is an evil man, a dictator who oppresses his people and flouts the mandate of the international community. While this behavior is reprehensible, it is Hussein’s vigorous pursuit of biological, chemical and nuclear weapons, and his present and potential future support for terrorist acts and organizations, that make him a terrible danger to the people to the United States. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator Christopher Dodd: There is no question that Iraq possesses biological and chemical weapons and that he seeks to acquire additional weapons of mass destruction, including nuclear weapons. That is not in debate. (Congressional Record, October 9, 2002.)

Senator John Edwards: We know that he has chemical and biological weapons. He has already used them against his neighbors and his own people, and is trying to build more. We know that he is doing everything he can to build nuclear weapons, and we know that each day he gets closer to achieving that goal. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator John Edwards: Almost no one disagrees with these basic facts: that Saddam Hussein is a tyrant and a menace; that he has weapons of mass destruction and that he is doing everything in his power to get nuclear weapons; that he has supported terrorists; that he is a grave threat to the region, to vital allies like Israel, and to the United States; and that he is thwarting the will of the international community and undermining the United Nations credibility. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator John Kerry: According to the CIA’s report, all U.S. intelligence experts agree that Iraq is seeking nuclear weapons. There is little question that Saddam Hussein wants to develop nuclear weapons. The more difficult question to answer is when Iraq could actually achieve this goal. That depends on its ability to acquire weapons-grade fissile material. If Iraq could acquire this material from abroad, the CIA estimates that it could have a nuclear weapon within one year. (Congressional Record, October 9, 2002.)

Senator Dick Durbin: When you look at what Saddam Hussein has at his disposal, in terms of chemical biological, and perhaps even nuclear weapons, we cannot ignore the threat that he poses to the region and the fact that he has fomented terrorism throughout his reign. (December 21, 2001, Larry King Live.)

Senator John D. Rockefeller IV: Saddam’s existing biological and chemical weapons capabilities pose real threats to America today, tomorrow. Saddam has used chemical weapons before, both against Iraq’s enemies and against his own people. He is working to develop delivery systems like missiles and unmanned aerial vehicles that could b ring these deadly weapons against U.S. forces and U.S. facilities in the Middle East. He could make these weapons available to many terrorist groups, third parties, which have contact with his government. Those groups, in turn, could bring those weapons into the United States and unleash a devastating attach against our citizens. I fear that greatly. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator John Kerry: In addition, Iraq is developing unmanned aerial vehicles, UAVs, capable of delivering chemical and biological warfare agents, which could threaten Iraq’s neighbors as well as American forces in the Persian gulf. (Congressional Record, October 9, 2002.)

Senator John D. Rockefeller IV: I have come to the inescapable conclusion that the threat posed to America by Saddam’s weapons of mass destruction is so serious that, despite the risks—and we should not minimize the risks—we must authorize the President to take the necessary steps to deal with that threat. There has been some debate over how “imminent” a threat Iraq poses. I do believe Iraq poses an imminent threat. I also believe that after September 11, that question is increasingly outdated. It is in the nature of these weapons that he has and the way that they are targeted against civilian populations, that documented capability and demonstrated intent may be the only warning we get. To insist on further evidence could put some of our fellow Americans at risk. Can we afford to take that chance? I do not think we can. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Senator John D. Rockefeller IV: Is [Saddam Hussein] a greater threat that he was in 1991? He surely is. There’s different ways of launching scuds and all kinds of things that go faster, farther. There is no question on that… And if [our allies] are not there for us, does that mean in this debate, precedent based, historically-based, that we sort of sit and take it, or are we going to end up basically being unilateral anyway because we cannot have our children smallpoxed. (Congressional Record, September 25, 2002.)

Senator John Kerry: When I vote to give the President of the United States the authority to use force, if necessary, to disarm Saddam Hussein, it is because I believe that a deadly arsenal of weapons of mass destruction in his hands is a great threat, and a grave threat to our security and that of our allies in the Persian Gulf region. (Congressional Record, October 9, 2002.)

Senator John Edwards: I believe that Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi regime represents a clear threat to the United States, to our allies, to our interests around the world, and to the values of freedom and democracy we hold dear… Thousands of terrorist operatives around the world would pay anything to get their hands on Saddam’s arsenal, and there is every possibility that he could turn his weapons over to these terrorists… we can hardly ignore the terrorist threat, and the serious danger that Saddam would allow his arsenal to be used in aid of terror. (Congressional Record, September 12, 2002.)

Senator Charles Schumer: When I consider that Hussein could either us or give to terrorists weapons of mass destruction biological, chemical or nuclear and that he might just be mad enough to do it I find, after careful research, the answer to my question: we cannot afford to leave him alone over the next five or even three years. (Congressional Record, October 10, 2002.)

Vice President Al Gore: If you allow someone like Saddam Hussein to get nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles, chemical weapons, biological weapons, how many people is he going to kill with such weapons? He’s already demonstrated a willingness to use the other weapons of mass destruction against his neighbors. This man has no compunction about killing lots and lots of people. So this is a way to save lives and to save the stability and peace of a region of the world that is important to the peace and security of the entire world. (Address to the Nation, December 16, 1998.)

Senator Joe Biden: Our strategic objective is to contain Saddam Hussein and curtail his ability to produce the most deadly weapons known to mankind—weapons that he has unleashed with chilling alacrity against his own people. Left unchecked Saddam Hussein would in short order be in a position to threaten and blackmail our regional allies, our troops, and, indeed, our nation. (Congressional Record, February 12, 1998.)

Một cuộc thử nghiệm tồi tệ

2009-08-10T05:18:00.000-07:00

Một vị giáo sư kinh tế cho biết ông chưa bao giờ đánh trượt bất kỳ một sinh viên nào, nhưng đã đánh trượt cả một lớp học.

Toàn bộ sinh viên trong lớp học này đã khẳng định rằng chế độ xã hội chủ nghĩa hoạt động tốt và rằng dưới chế độ này sẽ không có người giàu mà cũng chẳng có kẻ nghèo -- tất cả đều như nhau.

Khi nghe điều đó, vị giáo sư đã nói: "Được, thế thì lớp chúng ta sẽ có một cuộc thử nghiệm về vấn đề này."

Tất cả điểm số sẽ được chia trung bình và tất cả sinh viên sẽ nhận được điểm số như nhau, như thế sẽ không có ai trượt nhưng cũng không có ai được điểm tuyệt đối.

Sau bài kiểm tra đầu tiên, điểm số được chia trung bình và tất cả sinh viên đều được điểm khá. Những sinh viên học chăm chỉ rất phẫn nộ, còn những sinh viên dành ít thời gian ôn bài thì cảm thấy hài lòng.

Sau bài kiểm tra thứ hai, những sinh viên học ít thậm chí còn ôn bài ít hơn lần trước và những sinh viên chăm chỉ quyết định buông xuôi, vì thế họ cũng ôn bài ít hơn. Kết quả là tất cả các sinh viên đều được điểm loại yếu! Không bất kỳ ai hài lòng.

Sau bài kiểm tra thứ ba, tất cả sinh viên đều trượt.

Điểm số không bao giờ được cải thiện và kết quả là cãi vã, đổ lỗi và xúc phạm lẫn nhau giữa các sinh viên đã nổ ra. Không bất kỳ ai chấp nhận học thay cho phần của các sinh viên khác.

Thật ngạc nhiên, tất cả đều trượt. Lúc này, vị giáo sư kết luận rằng chế độ xã hội chủ nghĩa về lâu dài sẽ sụp đổ bởi vì khi thành quả lao động lớn thì nỗ lực để thành công sẽ được bỏ ra nhiều. Nhưng khi nhà nước lấy đi tất cả các thành quả đó, không ai sẽ cố hoặc muốn thành công.

Không điều gì đơn giản hơn lập luận này. Theo Adrian Rogers, "chúng ta không thể nhân giàu có bằng cách chia đều tất cả."

UN Resolution Written on Toilet Paper

2009-06-12T12:37:00.001-07:00

Once again, the UN Resolution against North Korea was written on toilet paper, since while countries may stop and search North Korean ships for nuclear weapons, they may not use force. So North Korea could... just say no. Sounds real intimidating to me!

The scenario goes like this:

A North Korean ocean vessel carrying ten nuclear bombs to Iran is stopped by the Chinese Navy.

"Stop," the Chinese officer transmits to the North Korean vessel. "We believe you are carrying nuclear weapons and demand you allow our crew to board and search your ship in accordance with UN Resolution Blah-Blah-Blah."

"No," replies the North Korean officer, a fully-literate fellow who knows that the Chinese are not allowed by the resolution to use force.

And that would be the end of that.

Obama's Speech in Cairo

2009-06-04T09:09:00.001-07:00

It sure was a breath of fresh air to listen to Obama's speech in Cairo today. I certainly cannot match Obama's eloquency; it was a magnificent expression of hope for peace and common understanding. I smiled throughout the whole thing, proud of what he said at every instance. As a conservative who has been shuddering at every turn lately--with Obama's spending this and that, and his Bank Plan from Hell--I have renewed enough my support for Obama to change my approval rating from "disapprove" to "approve," albeit perhaps only for today.

I think this should be his model for the future--avoid talking about economics as much as possible. He should just stick to what he's good at, and leave the economics for the economists. (Tim Geithner is NOT an economist, and neither is an investor or a hedge fund manager.)

China Hasn't Changed A Bit

2009-06-04T06:58:00.000-07:00

I don't think the Chinese government realizes how absolutely illegitimate and stupid it appears. Reading about the extreme attempts it is taking to censor the events of June 4th, 1989 makes it look just as insane as North Korea.

All this emphasis on economic growth masks the fact that growing an economy is no big secret. The fact that the Chinese economy is growing so fast is no surprise to anyone--but looking at its Stalinist attempts to control information flows makes one wonder if anything has changed at all. The economic growth masks a deterioration in will and a destruction of the Chinese flame, as the government hopes to create create citizens who are not interested in the world--"hip to the present, clueless about the past". It is this that will ultimtely hurt China for decades after the Communists relinquish power.

Compare the amazing Chinese who marched in the square twenty years ago, compare their selfless passion to the current Stupid Generation and you realize China has only changed for the worse...

"The Religious Right Didn't Kill George Tiller"

2009-06-02T21:01:00.001-07:00

I found this WSJ article very on point. Coming from an evangelical Christian background, I can't think of one person I know who would have ever advocated such a thing--it is completely antithetical to the true Christian message. As Christians, we are called to emulate the life of Jesus, who advocated the radical, undeniable power of indiscriminate love and forgiveness:

Early in the morning Jesus came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. What do you say?" This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
-- The Bible, Book of John, Chapter 8, Verses 1-11

This doesn't mean that we shouldn't fight for justice, but that in all things we ought to keep hearts focused on the love that obliges each of us to look beyond our conflicts and love--even our enemies, even abortion providers.

The Stupid Generation

2009-06-02T19:02:00.000-07:00

Most young Chinese, it seems, are perfectly okay with their government's attempts at isolating them from the outside world and restraining their access to information. The LA Times recently called them the "stupid generation." While I love Chinese people and have many Chinese friends, I must say that I find it hard to disagree.

Sharon Lockhart the Hypocrite

2009-06-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

I watched this video, discussing the terrible shooting of a Dr. Tiller who performed late-term abortions, and a woman named Sharon Lockhart made what is possibly the most thoughtless comment ever. Talking about the pro-life man responsible for the shooting, she then asked,

"What right does he think he has to make a decision about someone else's life--when he doesn't think women have the right to make a decision about their own lives?"

She just sums up the problem with the pro-choice debate. It's talk about talk. It's such a Western "convenience" mindset. Nobody thinks that women shouldn't have the right to make decisions about their lives. This, in fact, was one of the great successes of the 20th century, that women were able to make substantial progress towards equality with men. Increased female labor participation rates have brought millions of families out of poverty.

The question, rather, is about something more fundamental, something we all understand. Now, the man who killed the doctor had no right to do such a terrible thing--this is obvious, and it was rightfully pointed out that "pro-life" means pro-life--but neither does anybody else. Generally, none of us have a blanket "right" to take life--and most of us know this without needing excuses when we think about it. It is not a "pro-life" concept at all, or a by-product of religious thought. In a sense it hearkens back to John Donne's 17th century meditation on the interconnectedness of life and of the responsibility each person has to another:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
--From John Donne, Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII.

What we've failed to grapple with--in particular as an increasingly secular society--is that each of us has a sacred obligation to those around us, and that this obligation extends from all of us to mothers, to children, and to the unborn fetus that will grow to be an infant, a child, mother or father, and so forth. It is the same principle at work protecting Dr. Tiller that also ought to protect his female clients and the children they carry.

We'd like to pretend that there's no moral question, that there is no ethical concern. This is unfortunately the case on nearly every pro-choice website--it's "rights" and convenience talk (a "surgical procedure") more than anything else. There's no mention of an ethical controversy--just talk of logistics (transportation, money, etc) and how you'll feel afterwards (counseling is an option). Even the smartest people have got it wrong, and that's because brains will only get you have the distance. The only way to finish the race is to live a life that indiscriminately overflows with God-given compassion for others.

"What right does he think he has to make a decision about someone else's life--when he doesn't think women have the right to make a decision about their own lives?" Right back at you--beyond key exceptions, what right does the mother have to end the life of her unborn child? In all honesty, I could never understand how this was so difficult to understand.

Boldrin & Levine, "A Model of Discovery" in AER 2009

2009-06-01T10:37:00.001-07:00

In the May 2009 issue of the American Economic Review, Michele Boldrin and David Levine present a model of innovation that moves beyond the "Eureka" notion and incorporates diminishing marginal returns, offering an intriguing explanation why government-granted monopolies fail to increase innovation.

The Sotomayor Conspiracy

2009-05-31T08:04:00.000-07:00

I don't know, but I'm beginning to think that Obama has a grudge against Latinos.

I mean, where does Obama get the idea that Sonia Sotomayor is somehow a qualified Supreme Court justice? As best I can understand, it goes like this: Sonia is a woman with a rare and inspirational story (which is true, regardless of what you think of her), has years of judicial experience, is a graduate of the best schools in America. And that's it.

I mean, when you read her addresses and opinions, it's obvious the woman thinks she's someone special. But while her school pedigree may woo and impress us, it matters little when you consider the sheer volume of people with matching or better qualifications. Harvard Law School alone graduates over 500 Juris Doctors annually. And surely there's more to a Supreme Court justice than pedigree.

Well, maybe it's her story that is driving Obama's decision. Yet since when does this make you qualified for the Supreme Court, especially since her rulings--from her Affirmative Action cases, to the EPA cost-benefit analysis case, to the State vs. Federal jurisdiction issue in securities litigation, to the case concerning the rights of freelancers--are mish-mash and full of mediocre arguments? I mean, this is like blatantly saying that results don't matter, that you can be as mediocre a judge as you like--but if you're a Latina, you can still be qualified for the Supreme Court. What kind of a message is that?

I'd say that Obama knows that Sotomayor isn't qualified for the Supreme Court. I mean, look at how he complements the very parts of her dossier that are the weakest, in particular her judicial background, and simply ignores the parts that are most controversial. It is the oddest thing, but Obama is deliberately flubbing this historic moment to appoint a poo-poo judge as the first Latina on the Supreme Court. Now why on Earth would he do something like that?

It's got to be revenge for something--if not, he's just nuts.

IFC: Somali Piracy May Not Be All That Bad

2009-04-13T20:53:00.000-07:00

There is this clip on the YouTube by the IFC's Media Project and they talk about Somali piracy. They want us to re-examine our attitude towards the media--"they often lie to us"--and they use this piracy thing as an example. "The media wants you to think that they're the bad guys," they say. "But what if I told you that Western nations used to dump toxic waste off the shore of Somalia and over-fish in the neighboring waters, killing the native Somali fishing industry? Would they still be the bad guys?" Their obvious intent is to have you think that this somehow changes things. In light of this exploitation by Western powers, perhaps we can "understand"--or excuse--a bunch of hostage-taking, ransom-demanding Somali pirates. This is, after all, our own fault. Were we to have focused more on not dumping toxic waste and not over-fishing the East African coast, piracy would not have been an issue. In other words, this exploitation is a sufficient condition for piracy.

Yet obviously this is dumb: this prior exploitation may be a sufficient condition for Somali piracy, but it is not a necessary condition by any means, since there are many other reasons to engage in piracy--one, I imagine, has to do with getting money. Reducing over-fishing and dumping would do little to stop piracy if money is an underlying motivation. The point is that this sort of behavior--holding hostages, hijacking ocean vessels--ought to be punished severely, regardless of the motivation reason--even if we did bring it about in the first place.

Maybe this guy can start telling his stories to comfort victims of terrorism. "What if I told you that Western nations have been exploiting these countries for centuries? Wouldn't that change your mind about the punishment of terrorists?"

No it wouldn't, you nutcase.

All Together Now

2009-04-07T21:34:00.000-07:00

This should be an eye-catcher. Three big wig liberal economists--Paul Krugman, Jeffrey Sachs, and Joseph Stiglitz--all denounce the Geithner Plan. If only someone in the White House were listening.

Celebrate The Kim Jong Il In All of Us

2009-04-06T22:09:00.000-07:00

Ever have the feeling that things aren't going quite according to plan? Come on, admit it. We all have that feeling sometime. You're at the ATM to get twenty bucks, and you get the "insufficient funds" alert. You see flashing lights behind you and realize that you're thrity over the speed limit. You get your midterm grade back and realize you were the dead lowest grade in the class. Or maybe you realize that you locked your key in the car without having prepared a spare. I mean, I can't say it happens to the best of us, but it certainly happens to some of us.

And I know that sometimes I've had the impulse to do the most ridiculous thing possible: at the ATM, instead of putting my card back in my wallet, I hold out my hands waiting for my imaginary cash to come out. Or as the cop asks for my license and registration, I thank him for not giving me a ticket and drive away. Or getting my worthless exam grade back, I pretend it was the highest and invite my friends all out for beers in my honor. Or at the car, instead of phoning the police, I smile, shove my house keys into the lock and turn.

Of course, I'd never really do that, because I knew it wouldn't work and I'd end up in a lot of trouble. But for some reason I must admit that I've briefly felt the desire for nature and circumstance to just bend over backwards for me and do what I say. It's not that I felt it would, but I was just briefly frustrated that it didn't.

Then I realized this is what Kim Jong Il must feel like. I mean, his freaking missle fell into the Pacific Ocean to sleep with the fish. Yet he can stand up in Happyland and tell people that it didn't--it's actually orbiting the Earth at such-and-such an angle and pitch, etc. It sure takes all the stress out of failure--who cares if it actually works, so long as they think it works? And sure, I can go the ATM, take my imaginary cash and go try to buy a latte. If I were Kim Jong Il, I'd be able to pay with my make-believe money, because I'd be able to tell what is money and what isn't. I mean, who's to say that he's wrong? A bunch of scientists? What do they know? They're dead anyway.

Stupid cop who stopped NFL player in hospital lot resigns

2009-04-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when stupid people lose focus of the greater picture... While I do pity the officer, I can't but feel anger towards this sort of behavior--enforcing the law is no excuse for not using God-given discretion in any situation.

DALLAS – A Dallas police officer who detained an NFL player in a hospital parking lot while the player's mother-in-law was dying inside has resigned.

An attorney for Officer Robert Powell said Powell resigned Wednesday over the March 18 incident in which he drew his gun and threatened Houston Texans running back Ryan Moats.

Powell stopped Moats' SUV in the Plano parking lot after the vehicle rolled through a red light. Moats' wife, Tamishia, and other relatives were also in the car.

Moats' mother-in-law died while Powell was ticketing and lecturing him. Powell later issued an apology, which Moats accepted.

The resignation was first reported by Dallas-Fort Worth television station KTVT.

Reasons Not To Read Craig Heimburger's Vietnam Advice

2009-03-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

Having said that, I suggest everyone now read Craig Heimburger's blog entry on "Travelvice" called Reasons to Hate Vietnam. With all due respect to the guy, it sucks. I think it's funny enough to merit a bit of attention, but only to comment on how "Ugly American" it is--to the extreme. For instance, he writes:

I'm chiefly blaming it on... [the Vietnamese] general lack of intelligence. Yeah, that's right, Tatiana and I think most of the people are genuinely below average in the mental faculty department. "Many are nice, but they're dumb as rocks", Tatiana would say.

It was obviously written by a guy who spent a few days in Vietnam, thought he had something interesting to say, and wrote it without knowing what he was talking about--which was, I'm guessing, probably just a small oversight--but he should be banned from online travel journalism forever as a small public service. At the very least, when you write a blog claiming that certain people are as dumb as rocks, you'd better not inadvertently make them seem far smarter than you--which he did. And I don't really understand what he means in making his wife look stupider than him--it's not fair.

Part of the reason this article is so bad is that it is extremely disappointing. There are many good things to complain about if you want to write about Vietnam. I'd begin with the crazy experiences I've had at Giap Bat bus station, where crowds of Vietnamese taxi drivers regularly (on dozens of occasions) surrounded my wife and me, pushed us around, called her a prostitute and insulted her for being with a foreigner. Or the bus drivers in Vietnam who don't stop to let people--young or old--get on or off the bus, only slowing down enough to let you leap into the air from the moving bus. Or the fact that so many Vietnamese men think it's their right to cheat on their wives and see prostitutes. I don't criticize him for being annoyed with Vietnam--it's a wonderful place with more than a fair share of problems. But I don't think his comments merit anyone's attention, because they're nothing more than a two-cent laundry list of common complaints.

Vietnamese Inability to Communicate. He complained about the Vietnamese inability to communicate. It's funny, because so far as he's concerned, they communicate well--with words. Does he know any words? Can he speak Vietnamese? Did it ever occur to him to look up "mortar and pestle" in an online Vietnamese dictionary instead of "grind" or "pill"? I mean, who walks into a pharmacy saying "pill," "tablet," and "medicine" expecting someone to throw a "mortar and pestle" in his face?

To his credit, he did Wikipedia the subject. He notes how the mortar and pestle does have a pharmaceutical usage--that it has been used to crush pills prior to making a prescription. But in Vietnam, and in the rest of the developing world, the "mortar and pestle" has been (for thousands of years) associated with crushing food-like ingredients--not "pills"--and the "substances" crushed to make medicines were edible substances, not chemical compounds. This revelation comes with just a bit of developing country experience: developing countries generally did not have pills until relatively recently, and there was hardly any decent medicine to speak of. And nobody will grind your pills in preparation of a prescription--they hand out pre-packaged prescriptions. Pharmacists in Vietnam are not doctors and have no real medical background whatsoever.

The next logical question an intelligent traveler would ask himself is as follows: where do Vietnamese people buy food and do their day to day shopping? Well, first of all, they don't go to "supermarkets". Supermarkets generally keep imported and "upper-tier" goods--a category that obviously excludes mortars and pestles. Vietnamese people shop at "markets"--the obvious" cho'." Food preparation should have been the obvious category for finding the mortar and pestle, and online Vietnamese dictionaries are extremely helpful for anyone having similar translation problems. The standard reference is VDICT However, it seems that Mr. Craig is the only person in this story who is as "dumb as rocks". His comments about communication and Vietnamese stupidity are poorly placed, because (pardon, but this is funny) he can't even say half a word in Vietnamese and can't use a dictionary! (WIKIPEDIA DOES NOT COUNT!) Mortar and pestles are everywhere in big market places--just ask someone with words, and they'll tell you!

Vietnamese Language. Here is an interesting passage from his blog, referring to the Vietnamese language:

I could also describe most men sounding like a recording of mentally handicapped person with a mouth full of Novocain, making an impression of a goose, played in reverse.

What a nutcase. I think this suits him well--you know, his being an ugly American and all. It's funny, this sort of passage criticizes itself. Sure makes my job easier.

Mutant Lobsters. I mean, he actually went to Vietnam hoping to get lobster. It's there, but without grabbing a reference manual in Darwininan evolution, it's a different type... Most people go to colder climates to get fat lobsters. On a similar note, you will be equally disappointed if you go to Vietnam hoping to ski, or taste Vietnamese cheeses, or hoping to engage in recreational aviation. Part of the pleasure of travelling comes in having appropriate expectations. (Good lobster would be an appropriate expectation for, say, a vacation to Maine.)

Liars. Vietnamese has a very funny expression for people like Mr. Heimburger, who naively (or "unwittingly" in his case) leap at the opportunity to pay ridiculous prices for cheaply made stuff. (To his credit, Mr. Heimburger does admit to walking out without paying on a few occasions--a crime in his own country, but oh well.) These poor souls are referred to as "Fat Chickens," or "con ga` beo/". The idea is that you need to be street-smart: you can't blame the world for stealing your car if you left the door open with the keys in the ignition. If someone can trick you into taking a taxi for $30 when it really costs $6, then either you don't know the rules of the game, or you're just playing the wrong game. But don't think for a second that it's not a game. Street-smart travelers (I've seen some really good ones) can take the heat, and Vietnamese people notice and respect that. Their wallets are duly rewarded.

Cultural Insensitivity. I'm sure this part of his article was just an oversight. He complains about cultural insensitivity, how Vietnamese people touch. When it comes to cultural sensitivity, Hitler was more culturally sensitive to the Jews than this guy is to Vietnamese people. The number one rule of being a good tourist is to realize that the burden for being culturally sensitive falls on the traveler, not on the citizens of that country to cater to your tiny view of the world. The guy seems to have forgotten that he's in Vietnam, not the US. Nobody gives a damn what he expects them to do. He's a typical ugly American: angry at the world for not being like him. And honestly, nobody in Vietnam has the slightest clue how they should treat each foreign person that walks into their shop--with over a hundred and fifty different countries on the planet, this would be a lot for a third world shop keeper to manage. Maybe Mr. Wealthy Whiteguy could do us all a favor and try his best next time? At least he could try to be as "culturally sensitive" as his Vietnamese counterparts.

This note is already too long. I don't want to go point by point through his article. Let me end by clarifying further where he is right. The noise is terrible near the road in any Vietnamese town or city, and yes, this is largely because of the country's terrible traffic problems. Yes, it does cost an arm and a leg to enter Vietnam, but the Vietnamese government is not stupid: they know that if you'll pay $1000 for airfare, pricing the visa at $10 or $100 makes no difference to whether or not you come--and a big difference to their coffers. Plus, its part of a principle of visa fee "reciprocity". Yes, Vietnam has skinny buildings--it has a population density over 7.5 times that of the United States. This leads to a different use of space than in, say, Los Angeles, and--yes--storefronts are often obstructed as a result. And yes, there is cholera in Vietnam, as well as cockroaches, and the chairs for street food generally are Vietnamese size (there's no sense in using highchairs). After this list, everyone generally has the same response: so what? Welcome to the third world.

Say what? American democracy is older than European democracy?

2009-03-06T09:09:00.000-08:00

Yes, in fact, it is--if these countries themselves have any say in the matter. In this article, Secretary of State Clinton is, in my opinion, being unfairly criticized for her alleged "faux pas" in Europe. She claimed that American democracy is older than European democracy, apparently forgetting ancient greece (moan)--and that's about it. England, it seems, was not a democracy by the end of the 18th century, according to their national archives: "At the end of the 18th century Britain was not a democratic nation. With fewer than one in eight Englishmen entitled to take part in elections, only a fraction of the people in Britain had the right to vote. If you were a woman or working-class you were excluded from the electoral process, and so were most middle-class men. Among the elite ruling class, many were opposed to change and had no desire to alter Britain's ancient 'constitution', since political reform would mean they had to give up some of their privileges." This would make Great Britain about as democratic as, oh say, Vietnam. (N.B. While there was not universal suffrage in the US, working class white men did have the right to vote--which arguably represents the first true modern deviation from an aristocracy/monarchy.)

Of course, Americans patriots may have stolen and refined a lot/all of these European ideas, but the credit then still goes to the US for implementing them well first. So yes, modern European democracy is younger than American democracy, and don't even think about mentioning France. And Ancient Greece... hah...

'The Boy Who Cried Wolf', or 'Save the Fire Alarm for the Fires', etc

2009-02-18T17:39:00.000-08:00

I'm no logician, but I don't like the reasoning behind Al Sharpton's recent comments about this cartoon, shown above. The cartoon was drawn by Sean Delonas for the February 18, 2009 edition of the New York Post. Responding to it, Al Sharpton calls it racist, since it is obviously a jab against blacks (the monkey in the picture). However, this is statement is 'complex' (in the sense of asking who the current King of France is, which falsely assumes there is a current King of France), since it is only true if you believe something untrue assumed in Sharpton's logic--that the monkey is, in fact, a valid depiction of some black person. At first, this was not obvious to me--you'd probably need to be racist in order to misunderstand the cartoon this way.

In fact, I read the news enough to know it draws on the recent episode involving a monkey that was shot by police while brutally mauling a 55-year-old woman, and that the stimulus comment is a parody on the bill itself (which, for those who read, was not actually 'written' by President Obama--recall that in the United States it is the Congress, not the president, that makes laws). The idea that Sharpton missed (who can blame him, though?) is that not everyone in the economic world is fully convinced that an arbitrary fiscal stimulus is a good thing at the moment (i.e., some believe it will make us worse off), and that the bill itself is 'arbitrary enough' (in the sense of spending randomly 'here and there') to have been written by a monkey. (Real Business Cycle Theory, one of the various economic theoretical perspectives, suggests that fiscal stimulus will do only harm if recessions are efficient responses to exogenous changes in the economy...)

Anyway, the cartoon may or may not suck, but--this part is hilarious--we don't really think it is racist, now do we? (What would the message be, then, if the monkey being shot were the President of the United States?) Of course we don't--nobody does--and Al also knows this. He knows he's just doing this to deliberately mislead the uninformed. Little does he know that, by crying wolf in a time when racial pressures are higher than ever, he's just making his job harder (another complex statement--see, I assumed Al Sharpton actually had a job). The smart thing, Mr. Sharpton, would be to not wear the public out with these pre-mature, mind-numbing outbursts.

Missing the Point

2008-12-28T20:02:00.000-08:00

With all due respect, sir, this is complete nonsense.

Vietnam has decided that it will have world-class universities by 2020, although it will not charge much in terms of tuition. After all, what's so great about tuition? Few of the best universities in rich countries charge much for tuition, so why should Vietnam?

Maybe this is because, in the case of the United States where the sum of university endowments totals larger than Vietnam's total national income, there is already some money tossing around. Harvard University alone has far more money than the government of Vietnam, having the equivalent of more than ten percent of Vietnam's national income.

Of course a lot (revision: everything) about the education system in Vietnam could be dramatically improved without spending much money--i.e., better contracts, as mentioned by the government--but beyond a certain point, Vietnam will need to generate a plan for the propagation of university endowments, which is hard to do without charging students a significant portion of the cost of their education. Rather than doom the idea at its conception, education reforms ought to focus on establishing working credit lines in education whereby students can invest their money in the universities whose education pays off. They ought to create working and transparent information flows whereby students are made aware of university quality and efficiency. Etc, etc, etc.

However, the biggest challenge by far will be to create a society open to the free exchange and creation of ideas, without which any true university is doomed to mediocrity. As Vietnam begins to crack down on its blogging community, it is questionable that the correct steps are being taken.

The Economics of Paperwork: Abhijit Banerjee's "A Theory of Misgovernance"

2008-11-30T22:45:00.000-08:00

Having twice recently completed inhumane amounts of immigration paperwork for my wife, I found my natural intuitions redoubled in Banerjee's economic analysis of bureaucracy and red tape.

A rule set up by the [government] to limit corruption may be used by a corrupt bureaucrat as an excuse for wasting an applicant's time. To take a concrete and familiar example, most government offices have the rule that anyone who wants anything from the office has to fill out a number of forms. The aim of this rule is to reduce favoritism. Yet the same rule is often invoked by bureaucrats who want to harass certain applicants. They simply ask the applicant to fill out these forms (usually in a large number of copies) and then find small errors in the way the forms were filled out in order to reject the forms so that the applicant has to go through the same procedure again. [...]

Banerjee, A. (1997). "A Theory of Misgovernance". The Quarterly Journal of Economics 112, 1299.

The solution given by this paper is simple:

In this setting, if the government could also inflict arbitrarily
large punishments on the bureaucrats, it is easy to see that it could always implement the [socially] optimal outcome. All it would have to do is to recommend that the bureaucrat uses the optimal mechanism and to punish any detected deviation from this mechanism with such severity that no bureaucrat would ever contemplate deviating.

Banerjee, A. (1997). "A Theory of Misgovernance". The Quarterly Journal of Economics 112, 1315.

Perhaps these arbitrarily large punishments could be integrated in the recent sting of lawsuits against the immigration bureau. If done properly, the courts could award large damages, sending the signal that there are huge profits to be made in immigration litigation, which would keep the bureaucracy in check:

July 16, 2008: "The ACLU sued the government in a federal court in Kansas for unlawfully delaying the citizen application of Julian Polous Al Matchy, a highly decorated U.S. Army war hero."
June 7, 2008: "A group of Muslim immigrants seeking U.S. citizenship sued federal officials on Friday for having to wait more than four years to be cleared by the FBI, violating time limits."
December 4, 2007: "A group of immigrants in Southern California sued the federal government Tuesday to get an answer on their applications to become U.S. citizens, which have been tied up for months or years in lengthy FBI name checks."

Boum!

2008-10-31T11:06:00.000-07:00

Here is a wonderful rendition of Charles Trenet's song "Boum" from the 1938 film "La Route Enchantée" that just cracked me up.

Nero Economicus

2008-10-31T09:33:00.000-07:00

I always remember the story of that infamous Roman emperor of whom Suetonius cleverly wrote:

While he was singing no one was allowed to leave the theatre even for the most urgent reasons. And so it is said that some women gave birth to children there, while many who were worn out with listening and applauding, secretly leaped from the wall, since the gates at the entrance were closed, or feigned death and were carried out as if for burial.

It reminds me of a class I once took in graduate school, where the professor graded students not according to how well they learned the subject matter, but instead on how well they had adopted his particular opinions and conjectures. It was his dogma, not the economic facts, that mattered, and even those students inspired enough by his teaching were severely punished for having developed valid opinions and interpretations of their own. Dissuaded from participating desormais intellectually in the course, students were obliged to abandon any natural curiosities and begin the rote drudgery of getting an A.

Economic Principles and Pre-historic Man: Natural Selection and the Division of Labor

2008-10-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

Here is a fascinating discussion from the October 2008 issue of National Geographic in an article titled "Last of the Neanderthals":

Neanderthal society may have differed in another way crucial to group survival: what archaeologists call cultural buffering. A buffer is something in a group's behavior—a technology, a form of social organization, a cultural tradition—that hedges its bets in the high-stakes game of natural selection. It's like having a small cache of extra chips at your elbow in a poker game, so you don't have to fold your hand quite as soon. For example, Mary Stiner and Steven Kuhn of the University of Arizona argue that early modern humans emerged from Africa with the buffer of an economically efficient approach to hunting and gathering that resulted in a more diverse diet. While men chased after large animals, women and children foraged for small game and plant foods. Stiner and Kuhn maintain that Neanderthals did not enjoy the benefits of such a marked division of labor. From southern Israel to northern Germany, the archaeological record shows that Neanderthals instead relied almost entirely on hunting big and medium-size mammals like horses, deer, bison, and wild cattle. No doubt they were eating some vegetable material and even shellfish near the Mediterranean, but the lack of milling stones or other evidence for processing plant foods suggests to Stiner and Kuhn that to a Neanderthal vegetables were supplementary foods, "more like salads, snacks, and desserts than energy-rich staple foods."

Their bodies' relentless demand for calories, especially in higher latitudes and during colder interludes, probably forced Neanderthal women and children to join in the hunt—a "rough and dangerous business," write Stiner and Kuhn, judging by the many healed fractures evident on Neanderthal upper limbs and skulls. The modern human bands that arrived on the landscape toward the end of the Neanderthals' time had other options.

"By diversifying diet and having personnel who [did different tasks], you have a formula for spreading risk, and that is ultimately good news for pregnant women and for kids," Stiner told me. "So if one thing falls through, there's something else." A Neanderthal woman would have been powerful and resilient. But without such cultural buffering, she and her young would have been at a disadvantage.

Of all possible cultural buffers, perhaps the most important was the cushion of society itself. According to Erik Trinkaus, a Neanderthal social unit would have been about the size of an extended family. But in early modern human sites in Europe, Trinkaus said, "we start getting sites that represent larger populations." Simply living in a larger group has biological as well as social repercussions. Larger groups inevitably demand more social interactions, which goads the brain into greater activity during childhood and adolescence, creates pressure to increase the sophistication of language, and indirectly increases the average life span of group members. Longevity, in turn, increases intergenerational transmission of knowledge and creates what Chris Stringer calls a "culture of innovation"—the passage of practical survival skills and toolmaking technology from one generation to the next, and later between one group and another.

Whatever the suite of cultural buffers, they may well have provided an extra, albeit thin, layer of insulation against the harsh climatic stresses that Stringer argues peaked right around the time the Neanderthals vanished. Ice core data suggest that from about 30,000 years ago until the last glacial maximum about 18,000 years ago, the Earth's climate fluctuated wildly, sometimes within the space of decades. A few more people in the social unit, with a few more skills, might have given modern humans an edge when conditions turned harsh. "Not a vast edge," Stringer said. "Neanderthals were obviously well adapted to a colder climate. But with the superimposition of these extreme changes in climate on the competition with modern humans, I think that made the difference."

Ride the Crazy Bus Like A Man

2008-06-10T18:18:00.000-07:00

So Duyen and I had to go to Ninh Binh City for a few hours to do paperwork, and on the way back we caught the Crazy Bus. (It is a two hour drive.)

At first the bus seemed okay. As we boarded, we saw three or four tiny kids running around, pretty ordinary-looking people sitting, staring out the windows; Duyen and I sat down in our seats and began telling jokes. Besides the bus's deafening air-horn, things seemed alright for the first three seconds.

After those first few seconds, however, our bus was traveling a million miles per hour on the wrong side of the road. I guessed it was attempting to pass the sixteen-wheeler in front of us on the small two-lane highway, although all I could notice was that we were racing head-on towards the oncoming traffic. When the oncoming traffic refused to disappear to make way for us, our bus slammed on the brakes and got back into line behind the truck we had previously been following, with our bus barely missing a large truck transporting gravel. After that, we were back on the wrong side of the road, and the driver managed to successfully pass the truck in front of us.

Now, if this were the general pattern of behavior in a country whose traffic fatalities were among the lowest in the world, my response would be different than it is now. But the problem is that Vietnamese traffic fatalities are outrageous, killing 13,000 people annually--more people annually than cancer. For the sake of comparison, Vietnamese traffic kills even more people than guns do in the United States, according to the US Center for Disease Control. (Last year, 13,000 people died because of traffic accidents alone in Vietnam. Compare that to the number of people who died in the United States due to homicide by discharge of firearms, which was only 12,352 in 2005. If you adjust that for the fact that Vietnam has a population less than a third the size of that of the US, it becomes even more ridiculous.)

SIDE NOTE:

You see, it's not that people want to fix the traffic problem but cannot, it's that they don't want to fix the traffic problem if it costs them the tiniest inconvenience. The biggest example of this the resistance to wearing helmets. They don't want to wear helmets because helmets cramp their style. Even now, months after a nation-wide helmet law was enacted, people refuse to wear or even fasten their helmets, making them entirely useless. (Vietnam mainly uses open-face, "shorty" style helmets that fly off your head easily if not fastened.) Read these quotes from AP, quoted in the previous link:

(1) “I cannot imagine myself wearing trendy clothes together with a helmet,” said Le Tra My, 18, who was shopping for hats at an upscale store in Hanoi. “It will look awful.”

(2) "It is an unenforceable law. Wearing helmets in cities is ridiculous,” said Nguyen Tung Anh, 21, a student in Hanoi. “It will reduce drivers’ vision, hearing and it is not suitable for the weather conditions here.”

If people really cared about decreasing traffic fatalities more than its inconvenience to their style, they would wear helmets and accept that the costs (cramped style) do not outweigh the social benefits (a few thousand lives saved).

As soon as there was an opening in the oncoming traffic, our bus crossed once again onto the wrong side of the road, although it was clear that we weren't passing anyone. The bus was just on the wrong side of the road, it seems, because the bus driver wanted to show people he was macho, man enough to take it. Then another bus would come, and the driver would not budge from the wrong side of the road until a half second before what would have been a nasty collision. This was the pattern throughout the rest of the trip.

It was then that I started to look around. Next to the bus driver was a three-gallon keg of beer and a large, opened keg of rice wine, half-empty. I then remembered the recent accident in Binh Thuan province where a bus collided head-on with a sixteen wheeler, killing fifteen people and critically injuring eighteen. I remember how they said they didn't know the cause of the accident. (Maybe the bus driver was driving drunk on the wrong side of the road, maybe hmmm?)

Then, without warning the bus driver slammed on the brakes and the bus swerved sharply, and the passengers made a moaning noise as the bus refused to stop for an old man crossing the street, only deciding last minute to swerve away and to allow him to live.

So most of you are saying, "Okay, your bus driver was a drunken madman who nearly ran over a man and crashed the bus into an oncoming sixteen wheeler. Why didn't everyone (or at least you and Duyen) just get off the bus?" Good question. In fact, Duyen and I did get off the bus before we got to Hanoi. But I'd say this is a perfect lesson in what I see as a defining characteristic of the Vietnamese people. They take it. They chịu đựng. They suck it up, they ride the Crazy Bus. Why? I guess it's a kind of virtue. I call it the bend-over-and-take-it-in-the-a**-with-a-smile virtue. When Vietnamese women learn their husbands are cheating on them and going to see prostitutes; they take it, they suck it up. When the traffic police stop them for no reason and fine them for half a month's wage, they take it, they don't complain. When they spend a hundred bucks to buy something and it turns out to be a total fake and useless, you don't go back and return it and demand fair treatment, you shut up and take it.

Actually, Duyen informed me that most people thought the near-death experience with the man crossing the street was the man's own fault--somehow he could have done something to avoid it, and it's his fault if he can't avoid our bus. I personally doubt if anyone except me and Duyen thought of the driver as being even a tad off-the-mark, even though he was driving drunk and nearly killed a man.

When we got within distance of Hanoi, we got off and caught motorbike taxis to the bus station where we kept Duyen's motorbike. As we walked through the bus station, a crowd of twenty middle-aged men attacked Duyen and me with jeering shouts of "Motorbike, motorbike," "Madame Vietnam," "Is this your prostitute," "How can you have sex with him if you're so tiny," and worse things not even suitable for online publication. This happens every, single time. A good Vietnamese person can chịu đựng in light of such things. I just shut up because I know that the last thing I want is a brawl with twenty Vietnamese men in a bus station.

Karma: Sharon Stone and the Earthquake

2008-05-30T01:47:00.000-07:00

Oh no, not this--can it be? Did Sharon Stone really say what I thought she said? According to this news source, "[the actress] is pondering whether the recent earthquake that killed more than 60,000 in China had something to do with the country not being nice to Tibetans and the Dalai Lama." In her ponderings, you'll note she used the word "karma."

In my mind, this seems analogous to the following: Big Joe lives next door a man named Small Pete. Big Joe, being quite strong and knowing his neighbor to be a rather weak fellow, invades Small Pete's half-acre property and declares it to be his own. When asked, Big Joe simply states that Small Pete's half-acre property had been in Big Joe's family for generations before Small Pete bought it--and leaves it at that, throwing pool parties in Small Pete's backyard, etc. Then Bob, the neighborhood divinity, happens to hear of what happened, and decides to punish Big Joe by summarily executing his mother-in-law. Of course Big Joe is only mildly disturbed, because he considered his mother-in-law to be mostly a nuisance anyway. When the neighbors ask Bob why he killed Big Joe's mother-in-law, Bob simply explains that "Big Joe had it coming," and that this is "karma." And that's that.

The Chinese who died in Xengdu--civilians, really: high school students, music teachers, farmers, etc--were not the types of people who had much say over Chinese policy in Tibet. Sharon, you're thinking too much like an Westerner (US/Can/EU/Aus)--which isn't necessarily bad, but it'll only mislead you. Perhaps you're imagining that the Chinese government would grant freedom to in order to prevent an earthquake that would kill 60,000 people (if such an exchange were possible). The best way to judge this is to imagine the following situation: imagine (quite hypothetically) that tomorrow there were a Free Tibet uprising of such a scale that, amongst innocent, uninvolved Chinese, the minimum death toll required to prevent Tibetan succession was certainly known to be greater than 60,000. Would the government allow Tibet to become free simply in order to prevent such deaths? Clearly the answer is no, since the government of China has repeated that it will defend its territory at any cost. The notion is that Tibet (or Taiwan, etc, etc) is "worth it." But the big question is worth it to whom?

Stupidity and Ease of Doing Business

2008-05-28T18:25:00.000-07:00

Here is something funny. The World Bank and the International Finance Corporation put out the "Doing Business" reports on 178 different countries. These rankings measure, in some standard sense, the legislative and regulatory ease of doing business across the world.

One glance at the report hints at a major problem: the poorest countries score lowest on the ease of doing business. In other words, this means that in poorer countries, the laws and rules are less conducive to business than in richer countries. This is not just a mild coincidence. If you plot the natural logarithm of GDP per capita with the rankings, you get a nice correlation coefficient (-0.7314859) and, if you run it as a regression, you get the regression results given in the figure.

So both variables are significant at the 0.001 level (in other words, suck it), and the adjusted R-squared is 0.5324--in other words, income variation accounts for over half of the variation in the regression, which is friggin' awesome in terms of economic regressions.

Why--it is not obvious to me at all--should poor countries have terrible business laws--especially when having done nothing at all would have created far better results? Why not just copy the good ones in richer countries and make business easier? Why give yourself such an unnecessary handicap?

My guess has two dimensions to it. First, I argue that people are stupid and stubborn. If they weren't, they'd wake up tomorrow and say "all this red-tape sucks, let's simplify things." But they don't. Why? They're stupid.

This can also be expressed in a more polite manner, in terms of path dependence, I guess. If optimal policies just simply came about in the neoclassical sense, we wouldn't have this problem. The problem is that institutions really do persist. But really it's just another way of saying that people are stupid. And I don't mean to say that somehow I'm exempt from this.

I know I'm overlooking things (like poverty), but I see no reason why poor countries should be littered with red tape preventing business. If anything, the incentive should be to remove all the red tape to encourage it. It's like they're going out of their way to pass tons of laws that don't need to be there just in order to make life difficult. You can't attribute that to anything else but stupidity--especially when the answer is just to leave well enough alone.

Rice Cartel: The Stupidest Idea Ever

2008-05-02T10:35:00.001-07:00

I'm realizing more and more that, in certain countries, it is considered rude to criticize the government, especially the government of someone else's country. Well, I don't give a damn.

The new Stupidest Idea Ever comes from Thailand, this time regarding the creation of a "rice cartel." Okay, before you economics-types fall over laughing at the sound of the idea, let's just explain what is going on. Thailand, in this article, apparently calls for an OPEC-style "rice cartel" in order to reduce the global supply of rice, raising prices for the few countries that produce rice in large amounts. The reasoning is that only a few countries are rice producers.

While there are a million reasons this is the new Stupidest Idea Ever, I'll list five briefly just to get people (and myself) thinking.

(1) Agricultural supply markets are as close as the world has to perfectly competitive markets. This is doom enough for the rice cartel. Non-cartel production will eventually negate any price and supply effects. The US is the world's third largest rice exporter, and India and Pakistan are the fourth and fifth largest, respectively. Any rice cartel that excludes these countries will be in perpetual peril. It's easy to forget that, while location is important in rice production, rice production is certainly not as location-bound as are certain natural resources.

(2) The largest rice-producing countries are also the largest rice consuming countries. Statistical correlation between annual rice production and annual rice consumption, based on data taken from the quarterly USDA report on global rice production, is always at least 0.999, and the bulk of rice production is consumed domestically. Thus the largest losers will be the urban-dwellers in the "cartel countries" who face increasing food costs.

(3) Rice is not oil. Rice has plenty of substitutes. Rice may be a staple for most of the world's population, but it is not sufficient for nutrition. If the price of rice were to rise significantly above the price of any other close substitute, families would certainly tend to demand less rice and more of the substitute. That is to say, if people simply cannot eat rice affordably, in the long run they will either starve or replace it in part by other staples. Both of these effects will lower the demand for rice, decreasing the price and minimizing the gains of the cartel.

(4) Africa will starve, and the cartel countries will be to blame. Poor countries that import rice and have trouble finding substitutes will suffer immensely and directly from an increase in the price of rice due to cartelization. This will not attract the positive attention that Thailand and Vietnam would like as they advance across the world stage. It would create immense backlash from the international community and--for Vietnam in particular--it would alienate recent efforts to become a meaningful diplomatic power in the world. Anything that risks starving large portions of the world's population will be met with sharp resistance.

(5) Technology. Any real upward pressure on the price of rice, when combined with a sharp increase in malnutrition for particular regions of the world, would fuel significant technological research for more efficient ways of producing rice. This could permanently alter the geography of rice production in ways that Thailand and Vietnam cannot recover. Institutional changes in other countries could also appear as a means of fighting heightened food costs, giving farmers greater incentives to produce rice.

And plus, aren't these very countries complaining that the price of rice is too high? Then doesn't that mean that we should increase the supply of rice, not decrease it?

Where do these countries get these ideas?

Planning on Protesting the Beijing Olympics?

2008-04-08T11:04:00.000-07:00

There's something troubling about all this talk of boycotting the Beijing Olympics, for multiple reasons. Sure, we may disagree with the Chinese on Tibet and scores of other issues, and it's impossible to say that the Olympics aren't political. (How can anything coordinated between 100+ nations not be political?) But when push comes to shove, boycotting the Olympics over Tibet just doesn't make sense.

The real problem is that it won't make a damned bit of difference. China isn't going to back out of Tibet just because a bunch of latte-drinking Starbucks-types (and others, I concede) refuse to support their own country's athletes in the biggest moment of their lives. And if foreign governments refuse to send their athletes to the Olympics in Beijing, it'll be the athletes--not the Chinese--who will be hurt the most. These young men and women from all over the world have been training for years with a rigor that few of us would ever comprehend. Their commitment and hard work make my own day-to-day achievements seem as important as preschool finger-painting. It makes no sense to refuse support for your countrymen in their most proud moments, especially when it contributes nothing at all to the changes you seek.

Anti-everone dot com ironies

2008-03-27T20:56:00.000-07:00

I love this new site called "Anti-CNN.com." It was founded to show how Western media (not just CNN) often can appear biased in its depictions of Chinese (and other) current events. Instead, however, it turns out to be a perfect example of why the Chinese stand to benefit dramatically from the very model of press freedom that makes this bias apparent.

The primary point made by the site concerns a misleading photograph cropped in such a way that excludes an important half of the scene, where supposedly "innocent" protesters were actually throwing stones at Chinese military trucks. (It is important to note, however, that the original photo bears the following helpful caption: "Tibetans throw stones at army vehicles as a car burns on a street in the capital Lhasa." Thus it seems like nothing was really left out of the story--but that is not important to my point here.)

As of two hours ago, CNN fixed this error, making the situation clearer, attempting to remove this bias. The website now contains the full photograph along with a less misleading title. Why is this ironic? Because if CNN had been operating an closed atmosphere where alternative, opposing voices were strongly supressed or simply unavailable--for instance, as is arguably the case in China--there would have been no public knowledge of the error and, sadly for the world, no subsequent pressure for CNN to correct its bias. Thus the bias would have been there, but it would have gone unnoticed.

Contrast this with the general Chinese exclusion of journalists from Tibet, or China's attempt to remove journalists from the staged tour-gone-awry of one of its Tibetan monasteries, and things become clearer. Thus if CNN appears biased in its depiction of the crisis but Xinhua not, then we have forgotten the difference between "perceived" and "actual" bias. Given any amount of actual bias, Xinhua can always minimize or possibly eliminate the perceived bias by removing alternate sources of information regarding a statement. CNN, however--operating in a semi-competitive information economy--does not have as much power to hide or eliminate its bias.

I think this is the best explanation I can think of for China's mysterious comments about a "Dalai Clique," where the Dalai Lama--a Nobel Peace Price winner, devout Buddhist, and one of history's strongest and most charismatic advocates for peace--is allegedly a terrorist rabble-rouser type somehow responsible for coordinating violent riots across territory more expansive than France--all from exile. (That would be really impressive, wouldn't it!) The idea is that we'd also be making similarly ridiculous claims in our own defense if we were able to, as a man at a trial fearlessly lies in his own defense when he is certain there can be no independent verification of his claims. (If that makes any sense...)

"Against violence, Against Tibet Independence, Support Beijing Olympics"

2008-03-25T20:08:00.001-07:00

The following is a transcript from a Youtube video criticising those demanding an independent Tibet, posted by a user with the screenname "NZKOF." The screen breaks in the video are designated by the "/" sign. I'm quoting it on my blog because it may be referenced in future posts, so it makes it easier to have it on the same page so there's no confusion:

To all you bandwagon jumpers / who know nothing about Chinese history / and to all you bashers / let me give you some solid FACTS why Tibet is, was, and always will be a part of China / so you can f*** right off trying to separate our country / are YOU ready???? / FACT #1: / China is NOT a single Ethnic nation, in fact 56 ethnic groups make up China, including Han, Mongols, Koreans, Muslim, Tibetans etc... / and we are all united as CHINESE, in other word, China is just as multicultural as Canada, so DEAL WITH THAT! / FACT #2 / Tibet has been a part of China for thousands of years. / Yuan Dynasty (1271AD - 1368AD) / Ming Dynasty (1368AD - 1644AD) / Qing Dynasty (1644AD - 1911AD) / Republic of China (1911) / People's Republic of China (1949) / Are we now clear on "Legitimancy"???? / FUNNY part is that / Tibet has been a part of China way the f*** BEFORE US/Canada/AUS/New Zealand were even founded by the Europeans / Talking about "Legitimancy"??? / Once you guys out of North America, Occeania, and Free the natives, we shall out of Tibet in no time / FACT #3 / 1903AD, due to the weak of Qing Dynasty, British gained control over Tibet as an colonial region and treated them as salves / FACT #4 / Prior to 1950 when Chinese regained Tibet, Tibet was still in a slavery society under Dalai Lama's puppet regime / Now do you think the Dalai Lama would be happy now he lost all his privileges during the slavery period? / .... "Free" Tibet????? how f***ing ironic / FACT #5 / The Dalai Lama was, and still is, funded by the CIA to separate Tibet from China / In 1950s CIA and British forced the Indian government to accept the Dalai Lama in India and have begun funding his campaign ever since / FACT #6 / The Chinese government spends 200 millions (40 millions US) to develop Tibet, Building schools, hospitals, infrastructures... / Tell you what, China is no Yugoslavia if that's what all you are trying to do. / And to the rest of you: / Britain: Scotland, Northern Ireland independence! / United States: Free Texas Republic or just all pack up and go back to Europe / Canada: Quebec Referendum or just all pack up leave and give the land back to the native people / Japan: Hokkiado Independence, Okinawa Independencce / Australia: Stop treating the natives like crap or just pack up leave for Europe as well. / ... say what? you can't do those things? well then don't f***ing expect us to do the same / Even when Chinese Tibet has longer histories than some of you countries combined... / "Free" Tibet. . ?!?!?! / Like this?!?! . . . . . / 100 dead? / but who's attacking whom??? / Dalai Lama and his masters from the West must be proud / Thank you, the West, your fair news media had never stop attacking other contries' sovereignty / and your governments never stop trying to split other countries apart / but not for one second had you guys questioned your own existences and rule over the native people / ...so, Bravo... / and dream on, for China to become the next Yugoslavia, Bosnia / Because we know... / ...that this / is our country called home... / and no one could ever, ever break it apart / so... DEAL WITH THAT

"Tibet has always been a part of China." Say what?

2008-03-24T17:43:00.000-07:00

Alright, I find this intriguing: reviewing Chinese claims to Tibet is like taking a refresher undergraduate course in bad proof techniques. Trust me, I've done enough bad proofs myself to recognize one when I see it.

Often, when Chinese students in the U.S. hear their American friends' demands for a free Tibet, they become indignant. "Tibet has always been a part of China," they respond, usually pointing out that their American friend doesn't really know squat about Tibetan history or the history of Chinese involvement in Tibet. "Tibet was a part of China since the Yuan Dynasty, which began in such-and-such a date (in other words, a really, really long time ago). Did you know that?" Thence begins a shower of historical facts that overwhelm our poor American student, who is certainly not a scholar of Chinese history.

Rarely does the American student realize that this doesn't really matter all that much. Modern-day Korea was also a part of China under the Yuan Dynasty; yet nobody would seriously claim that Korea ought to be recognized as a part of China. Vietnam was occupied by China for a thousand years, yet this clearly was not enough to make Vietnam just another Chinese province. Besides, the Yuan Dynasty was an empire, which (by definition) implies that the Yuan Dynasty ruled over many distinct national entities. And as for present-day accounts, Asian nations have long been politely annexing each other's lands back and forth. You don't have to look much further than the Japanese annexation of Korea in 1910.

The real point in all this is that Tibet was independent in the time before the recent Chinese annexation of Tibet. It was not a part of China when the Chinese "added" it to their territory. Thus, regardless of how many millenia passed during which Tibet belonged to China, the point is that it was independent in the time before the most recent Chinese invasion--and gladly so. In order for the Chinese to annex Tibet, they had to overthrow its legitimate and respected leader and ban him from returning, use military force against the tiny Tibetan army, etc. It was, by any historical measure, an invasion. And that is the main point. You can't go invading other countries, despite how much you really, really wish it belonged to you. (Arguably this could go for the US Confederacy as well!)

The problem with Chinese claims to Tibet is that they fail to differentiate why China is not an occupying power in Tibet, as Japan was in Korea. What makes Tibet's case different from the case of Vietnam, Korea, or Mongolia? More specifically, on what grounds do the Chinese not see Vietnam as just another renegade Chinese province, while the same cannot be said for Tibet according to these same grounds? (Vietnam was a part of China even longer than Tibet has been; thus this alone clearly cannot be sufficient reasoning.)

The piece by NZKOF, quoted below, cracks an attempt at rectifying this. In defense of China's possession of Tibet, he offers two primary arguments: (1) He reminds us that China has 56 different ethnic groups which have (2) been long attached to China. From these he concludes that Tibet is a legitimate Chinese possession.

This doesn't work at all since--as I've been arguing--in a hauntingly simple way, NZKOF's argument could be used to justify the Chinese occupation of Vietnam that ended in the 900s. The idea is that, by part (1) of his argument, the Vietnamese are, after all, just another 'ethnic group' (such that they could easily become the 57th ethnic group, etc). Furthermore, by the year 900 AD, they had easily been a part of China for a thousand years, so by part (2) they pass with flying colors. Clearly another condition is needed if we hope to avoid a sticky situation here.

NZKOF must have known this, because he adds a bunch of others, sort of haphazardly--not all of which are true, but this is not important. Summarily, these are: (3) Tibet was also occupied by the British at one point; (3*) Lots of other countries in the world occupy nations that are not legitimately theirs; (4) When Tibet was not part of China, the Tibetan government treated its people poorly/unfairly/as slaves; (5) The Tibetan government was supported by bad, untrustworthy people (the CIA); and (6), China spent lots of money developing Tibet. Of course, none of these relate to the question at hand--in other words, none of these indicate why Tibet, but not Vietnam, should be considered a province of China.

The main problem between China and the rest of the world is that, even if eighty percent of all Tibetans wanted independence from China, this would not be reason enough for the Chinese to consider it. Compare this with the logic of Canada holding a Quebec referendum, and it becomes clear that few modern Western nations share this reasoning today. Add this to the vast differences in culture, values, religious attitudes, and language, and then--according to the Western mindset--it becomes difficult to imagine any better rational grounds for Tibetan independence.

China, Tibet, and Vietnam

2008-03-23T21:05:00.000-07:00

When asked to comment on the current protests in Tibet, Vietnamese authorities diplomatically answered that "all Tibet-related issues are China’s internal affairs." The reasons for their saying so are quite understandable.

Yet one with a historically-minded eye could argue quite differently. Long ago in its own dynamic history, Vietnam itself was once occupied by China. Though clearly a separate cultural, linguistic, and national entity, it remained a subject of Chinese colonialism for over a thousand years.

Referencing this time of Chinese domination in Vietnam, we would find it unthinkable to say that all Vietnam-related issues are matters of Chinese internal affairs, or--speaking of Vietnam during the period of French colonialism--that all Vietnam-related issues are matters of French internal affairs. The reasons are clear: all Vietnam-related issues are clearly Vietnam's internal affairs--they are not French, nor American, nor Chinese.

The primary reason for this is obvious: Vietnam, France, and China share nothing of a common national identity, and they share absolutely no common desire for one. If anything can be inferred from the past two thousand years of Vietnamese history, it is that the Vietnamese have a strong and irrepressible penchant for independence, without the French, Chinese, or Americans.

Tibet here is not that different. Tibet and China share no common language; their cultural values and identities are undeniably foreign to each other; their histories have constantly propelled each away from the other, much as Vietnam has sought to avoid dominance by its northern neighbor. Unlike Vietnam during the American War, where both the north and south shared a common vision for unification as one country, Tibet and China share no such vision. So what brings us to believe that all Tibetan affairs are Chinese ones?

In making meaningful claims for Tibetan independence, there are few other nations so rightly positioned to do so than Vietnam.

Alleged American Sponsorship of Terrorism: Jeremiah Wright

2008-03-15T07:36:00.000-07:00

Barack Obama's Pastor Jeremiah Wright has been receiving a lot of press lately regarding the strongly critical tone of two of his past sermons, one delivered in 2003 and the other right after the attacks on September 11th, 2001, in which he accused the United States of bringing on the attacks and sponsoring, to a degree, terrorism. I think that some of this is unjustified.

Wright said that we "bombed Hiroshima, we bombed Nagasaki, and we nuked far more than the thousands in New York and the Pentagon, and we never batted an eye. We have supported state terrorism against the Palestinians and black South Africans, and now we are indignant because the stuff we have done overseas is now brought right back to our own front yards. America's chickens are coming home to roost." Separately, he also said: "No, no, no, God damn America, that's in the Bible for killing innocent people. [...] God damn America for as long as she acts like she is God and she is supreme."

Sure, Wright has said a lot of other stuff I disagree with. Now I don't see myself as any sort of radical or extremist--I've always been quite a moderate--but it seems that Wright may be getting at something. I don't know if we really did support state terrorism against the Palestinians; it could be total hogwash. But the particular examples are not important. If Wright is suggesting that our conduct internationally has contributed to militant anti-Americanism, I think he could be right.

I mean, take a simple, relatively unknown event from the American occupation of Iraq. An Iraqi taxi driver was caught stealing wood during 2006, and the American army figured it would be just to crush his car with a tank. Watch the video. Now if we assume that this is justified--I can't imagine anyone thinking this, but even if you do--isn't it at least imaginable that this would provoke some degree of anti-Americanism? Isn't it possible that this could justify Wright's claiming that "America's chickens are coming home to roost?" (Of course it would; it would be stupid to imagine otherwise.)

While we look at many of our nation's historical events with a certain amount of pride, or at least justification--for instance, the bombings of Japan or of Vietnam, the War in Iraq, the heavy hand of the CIA, or the numerous, brief US-led attacks on targets across the world--it should not surprise us that certain others see this as total arrogant bullshit--regardless of whether it's justified or not. I'm not saying that things are one way or the other, but--in the case of the atomic bomb, for instance--if we simply dismiss the chance of incredibly divergent sentiments regarding the instantaneous killing of over 200,000 people, including the possibility that some people hate us for this--then we really are stupid. Or take the firebombings of Tokyo, where--justified or not--we burned to death 100,000 Japanese civilians in one night. Certainly people there will be some who will hate us for such events regardless of whether we were right in doing so. And if this pattern is sustained indefinitely, it is likely to be extremely costly and cause a great deal of trouble for all Americans.

It's irrelevant to call Mr. Wright's words "anti-American," because Mr. Wright is hardly anti-American. In speaking freely about the problems he sees in this nation, he stands as a vanguard of a true America that is open to criticism and unpopular perspectives--perspectives that may, someday, reveal something of a far nobler path we've failed to take.

The first day - getting started

2006-09-10T16:01:00.000-07:00

It was quite a sunny day in July, typical of summer in Vietnam. At about midday, it was about 34 or 35 degrees centigrade and I, back from an examination, was rushing to the Hanoi rail station to get some information about the train from Hanoi to Sapa. At that time, it was so crowded, since people were also rushing out onto the streets from factories, offices, universities and schools in order to have lunch. I tried my best to drive as fast as I could, because Sean and I had decided to start our trip to Sapa that afternoon or evening on any available train. When I got to the station, I ran to the department selling tickets to Sapa. That was the first time I bought train tickets to Sapa, and I knew nearly nothing about it. After asking the ticket-seller for the necessary information, I decided to buy two tickets for Sean and me. Unfortunately, there was just one hard seat left. Could you imagine this? If I had taken this, we would have had to take turns sitting for nine hours. I think that they would have found me dead, and would have buried me upon arrival, with Sean sitting near my tomb, crying.

Well, I did not want to go to Sapa to die, and decided to come and ask for Sean's opinion. I was afraid that we could not start our trip that day, for we would have to wait until when we bought tickets in the soft-sleeper car.

That morning, Sean chose to read his favourite book rather than to go out and have breakfast, and by that time it was midday. When I told him the problem with the tickets, he suddenly suggested we go to Sapa by motorcycle. I was so frightened because never in my life did I travel by motorcycle to a place to which I had never before been, and whose roads I knew nothing about. There were two voices resounding simultaneously in my head: the one told me not to not do that because it might be the last trip of my life, and the last time I was in Hanoi. The other told me to do it, because it sounded so new and interesting, and I was convinced by myself that Sean knew how to drive and could do it well. In the end, I was taken by Sean's excitement. We went down town to search for the shop where we could rent a motorcycle. It was so hot then, the surface of the road seemed to produce fire. I felt that, if we had stood still for ten minutes in the streets, then we would have become roasted ducks. However, at that time, we were so excited that we forgot our mutual hunger.

After driving around for a while, Sean decided to get on the internet to search for the address of the shop he had heard about before. And with his effort, we got it. The shop itself was not far from the internet shop, and it was quite easy to recognise with the red text on a white board, right up on the shop's door: “Cuong Minsk Shop.” Sean did not want to get in with me, because he was afraid that we would be charged a higher price if people saw a foreigner come in. What could I say? There were five Minsk cycles inside the shop which were as big as an ox. It must be a North American ox, because it was big, tall and strong.

After checking the price, I gave Sean – who was talking in an opposite shop - a sign to come over. I can tell you all that I had never met such a cautious person as Sean. There were no reasons to reject that he had chosen the right subjects to study: Maths and Economics. With such a logical brain as his, there were tons of questions given out, and just good ones, which he could tell you were quite general. You may think I am lying, but I swear I am not: he has the potential of becoming a science researcher. Coincidentally, we support each other, because a simple-minded person like me could not have a vision of what may happen with the Minsk during the trip, or at least I did not want to think about such things.

Before making a decision to rent it, Sean wanted to try driving a Minsk to make sure it worked well, because a Minsk had a clutch, unlike most Vietnamese motorcycles. After five minutes he was back (together with the Minsk) without having lost a hair. At the very least, I felt better because this meant that he knew what to do with it. I thought I would simply sit and encourage him during the time we drove to Sapa, because I did not know how to drive a Minsk and Sean would have to work much.
However, I learned a great deal about Sean as each minute went by. He told me to learn to drive it. I can say this, he took me into a new world with a brand new task - driving a Minsk, with a clutch such as I had never before used. I agreed, however, thinking it would be so unfair if he had to do everything. Anyway, I was interested in learning how to drive in case Sean was too tired of driving. Finally, I knew at least how it worked, and I drove a short ways with the aid of a man in Cuong's place. We decided to borrow a Minsk for a few hours, in order to pack our things, and then return later to officially rent another that was being repaired, starting our trip to Moc Chau at around 3 PM. But it took us a long time to prepare all our things – far more than we had thought – and we got back to Cuong's place at 4.30 PM, taking nearly another 30 minutes to complete everything.

Our plan was very clear. We would spend five days for the trip – the first day to drive to Moc Chau, the second day to Son La, the third day to Sapa, spending two days there to visit the sights, and then take a train back to Hanoi, packing the Minsk on board for ten dollars. We planned to drive along the National Road. At each stop we would stay in a guest house or a two star hotel and find a restaurant with reasonable price to have lunch or dinner. And how things were going on? Sean and I are telling you now:

The first day of our trip was a really long day, I am sorry to tell you all this.
As we told you, our first stop was in Moc Chau, which was about 170 kilometers from Hanoi, meaning that we had to drive four hours straight without breaking at 70 kilometers per hour in order to get there on the first day. However, the three of us - Sean, Duyen and the Minsk – we started at 5 PM that day, right at the time when all people were driving home from work, and it was so hard to drive through them while Sean was a bit new to our Minsk and Vietnamese rush-hour traffic. People at Cuong's place were so friendly and kind; one of them even went with us to show us the way to get out of Hanoi city. It took us about 20 minutes to get to National Six, leading to Hoa Binh province, about 70 kilometers from Hanoi to the South and 100 kilometers from Moc Chau to the North, our first stop. For safety reasons we could not drive fast, and we rambled along at just 40kilometers an hour (25 miles per hour). When it was nearly 8 PM, we were still 20 kilometers away from Hoa Binh, which was itself quite far from Moc Chau. I sat behind Sean, counting the time it would take to get to Hoa Binh city. I realised then that it was impossible to drive directly to Moc Chau; it was getting so dark and cold, and we beginning to entering the mountainous region. In front of us, there was range of mountains, you could try to have a look as far as you could, as wide as possible, and what you saw were just mountains; behind them were more mountains; at the end of sight were nothing else but mountains. We changed drivers for a while, and I could hardly control the Minsk. It stood still, and the engine died every time I wanted it to move forward. Finally Sean made it advance, and I jumped in to drive. We did it well, and that was not the last time. I was simply wondering how Sean could do it so well.

Flat roads slowly faded behind us, and in their stead came the uphill and downhill ones. I became concerned about our Minsk: what if our Minsk were to have trouble while we were still twelve more kilometers away from Hoa Binh City? This was a question with a hard answer, and considering that our headlight was the only exception to pitch-blackness, we realized how much trust we had placed in our Minsk, as we had forgotten to pack a flash-light.

Minsking Northwestern Vietnam (I)

2006-08-12T08:18:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday a few weeks back, Duyên and I decided to go to Sapa. This was not really as last-minute a decision as it sounds or as those who know my character would like to tell you; we had planned this part of the journey for many weeks. We had just returned from Ninh Binh province on a visit Duyên's hometown, and had all our things packed to catch the train later that night which would go to Lao Cai, which is about an hour's drive from Sapa. We had money, and all the materials needed for a nice backpacker's trip though two-star hotels and such in a fairly developed vacation town in Northern Vietnam.

Duyên had to take an exam that day at Cao Đẳng Du Lịch, which was why we had returned to Hanoi prematurely from Ninh Binh. In the afternoon, Duyên met me and informed me that she had gone to the train station, that all the trains to Sapa were full, and that for the nine-hour train ride, there was just one hard seat left, which I imagined that we could attempt to share if we needed.

I stopped and thought about what this all meant. I had only a few days of a vacation, which was already nearly half-over. I had already decided that I was going to Sapa - originally one of the main perks of coming to Vietnam - and that I would let no silly shortage of train tickets stop me. But I refused to set my rear (or two) on one silly wooden seat for nine hours in some self-hating attempt to save money. So I thought about other ways of getting there.

"We should go by motorcycle," I said thoughtlessly. "By Minsk." It was noon on Wednesday.

Duyên paused, having never before heard such a crazy idea. She asked if I had ever been on a Minsk.

"No," I replied confidently. "But I imagine that it's not too different from an American motorcycle [omitted: which I barely know how to ride ]."

I later learned through experience that there are many reasons not to ride to Sapa by motorcycle, which I was not aware of, and I will try to list a few things here:

(1) Sapa is high in the mountains, and only two-stroke motorcycles with engines larger than 120 cubic centimeters are able to withstand the brutal uphill climb.

(2) Road conditions in the mountainous regions of Vietnam can be unbearably brutal, where the National Highway is little more than a single-lane dirt road barely large enough to fit a Jeep; where road-grade often exceeds ten-percent uphill and downhill for tens of kilometers at a time; where the main road becomes a simple dirt path, running indefinitely though uninhabited sections of jungle that take days to cross, weaving up and down mountain slopes, bordering cliffs that hang over a hundred meters in the air with no guard rail; where the dirt road passes straight through the fast waters of a river, and reappears across on the opposite bank, with no option other than to walk the motorcycle through the water; where the road has been cut directly below a waterfall and is under feet of flooded water; where sixteen-wheelers race through blind corners down one-lane mountain roads designed for uni-directional traffic, but which in reality are heavily two-directional, with wild buffalo and cow traffic; where paved roads are nothing more than patchwork mosaics of broken concrete and buffalo excrement; where little children dart blindly into the road from small paths invisible to drivers; where farm animals slowly cross the road at blind corners or have fallen asleep in it; where monsoon rains can cause flash-floods, landslides, and near-fatal motorbike accidents.

(3) There are no emergency facilities in most parts of the mountain regions, and those that exist are extremely inadequate at best. However, traffic accidents are extremely likely, given the poor road conditions and extremely high risks taken by native drivers when driving to conduct daily affairs.

(4) Government officials may not be precisely welcoming to visits to certain areas, and if you find yourself in a remote area after nightfall, they will remind you that it is forbidden to sleep anywhere in Vietnam without express permission of Police authorities. As a result, they will ask you to drive hours through the night through virtually insane road conditions, simply in order to stay in pre-approved areas for foreigners.

(5) Legally speaking, it is absolutely forbidden for a foreign man to share a room under any circumstances, excepting marriage, with a Vietnamese woman. Breaking this law puts you in direct conflict with the Police, who spend a good deal of each night going from Hotel to Hotel, checking passports and authorization papers for foreign guests. However, it is perfectly fine for a foreign woman to share a room with a Vietnamese man, regardless of their marital status. (I’ll only let you guess why.) So you will need two hotel rooms, no matter what, if you have a non-Vietnamese man and a Vietnamese woman travelling together. (Perhaps this isn’t that bad as it sounds, but it sure makes things expensive.)

(6) There are many poisonous insects that seem fairly harmless sitting in the jungles of Vietnam, that can kill you in seconds. (On two occasions, I was moments away from picking up a poisonous insect to examine it, not knowing that it was poisonous, when Duyên screamed a very obvious warning – “DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU’LL DIE!”)

This list is certainly not exhaustive, but it gives you an idea of the sort of things I was up against without having the slightest clue.

Once Duyên and I decided that we would travel by Minsk, we rode downtown to Cương’s Minsk Shop and rented a 125-cc two-stroke bike, helmets, a Minsk repair kit and manual, gloves, detailed transportation map, and water-proof Soviet ex-military motorcycle bags. We took the bike around for a quick lesson in Minsk riding, and asked a man from Cương’s place (this man was not Cương himself) a few general questions about the trip in general. He told us that there were two roads to Sapa, one which took us about ten hours through an ugly, industrial valley next to the Red River with in essence no scenery, and another that took a bit longer [omitted: five days] and ran through some of the most beautiful scenery this world has ever seen.

I very quickly opted to take the long way, which seemed to me a much better use of my time. To this day, I do not regret making this choice. However, I wish I had been better prepared. To be fair, Cương’s shop did an incredible job in preparing us for the journey at such a last minute. His shop was absolutely amazing, providing an absolutely reliable bike that withstood a direct hit by a drunk driver, a slide-out at twenty miles an hour on a mountain in the rain, and miles and miles of mountain riding when the only gear that could haul us up some mountain slopes was a high-strung first gear for hours at a time, etc. The bike never failed, with the exception of a broken clutch when the bike was hit directly by a man driving on the wrong side of the road (this is common in Vietnam).

So we told Cương that we would borrow the bike for a few hours to get used to it and run some errands, getting important things that we needed for the trip (to give an example, I had no shoes or pants, only sandals and shorts, and no rain gear, and we had no money). There were many things we should have prepared, but did not, such as cold weather (it gets very cold at 10,000 feet in the mountains, especially at night and during the rain), mosquito repellent (against Malaria, which is extremely common), and common medication to protect against bites from deadly insects. We also had no health insurance.

But despite all this unpreparedness, we felt very prepared. Four and a half hours after deciding we would go by Minsk, we were escorted by a man from Cương’s Minsk Shop to the edge of Hanoi, where he set us on Highway Six, the infamous highway road that eventually became a crumpled collection of pavement and then a dirt path through a river. (At one point, there was a bamboo bridge across a river that people were taking their motorbikes through.)

We left that afternoon at 4:30 from Hanoi towards Hòa Bình City. (To be continued…)

Dog stories, retold

2006-07-22T18:15:00.000-07:00

There was a death in the family back home while I was gone, a dog-death, and I happened to mention this to a friend here the other week. She thought it would be appropriate to tell me her own dog-dying story, you know, sort of to comfort me. It was of the type, unexpected good things come from bad things. So she told me that she, too, had a dog die when she was a little girl. In fact, some neighbor came over and strangled her dog right in front of her when she was about eight years old. She and her sister screamed to her mother, "mom, stop him, he's killing out dog!" The mother stood off to the side, watching, and was like, "there, there, it'll be okay." The two girls cried and cried the whole afternoon - it was their pet dog, whom they loved, but it died right in front of them. So sad for two little girls.

Then dinner came around, and the mother had cooked the dog with the neighbor, and she had prepared the whole dog out on the table, organs all laid out, cooked and flavored. To comfort her, her mother took the kidney and gave it to her to eat. It was then that she realized that she really loved dog meat, and all the tears were gone from then on out. So the moral of the story is that, if you're creative enough, good things are hidden like gems among a sea of bad things. Or another could be: dog dies, eat it. I'm not sure if that'll comfort my relatives, but it's a start.

I opened the phone book, and looked up 'Restaurants' in order to get an idea of what kinds of places I could consider when going out to eat. Needless to say, the section titled 'RESTAURANTs - DOG MEAT' occupied a very significant place. I'm not very tempted to try it, I must admit. But I know that the time will come when I will, and I must eat it like a man. (Although sometimes, when these dogs across the street stay up all night howling and barking at the slightest sound of leaves rustling, I am tempted to go out with a grill, a baseball bat and some ketchup.)

Street sellers, revisited

2006-05-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

I have arrived once again at Mr. Hung's place in Tay Ho district - it now feels like home, having been here for a good three months during the summer of 2005. They are wonderful hosts and have been extremely kind in every way; it is now up to me to reciprocate their kindness. I hope I'm up to the challenge.

Over the past week, rain has dominated the skies, but things continue as usual here. The heat has not been too bad, and I've not found too much need to use any air conditioning - it is also expensive, needless to say.

I just went out into downtown Hanoi yesterday, and it struck me differently this time than last time, when I had never before seen it and had a good friend to deal with street sellers; now, on the second time returning, I recalled how much effort was required for me to purchase things on my own, or even take a simple stroll down the street alone. I had been much accustomed to having T___ - or her grandmother - in the vicinity to do the serious shopping, after I had found such-and-such an item, when it came time to determine a price. This time would be much different. I would do much less buying for the simple reason that the prices that I get as a foreigner are often ten times higher than the actual prices paid by natives. Negotiating a lower price is also a costly act: it takes emotional stamina and a great deal of time, and in the end, you're likely to have been better off paying the higher price. I did not, however, come to Vietnam to shop. (I promise you, this is a very stupid idea. If any one reading this blog is considering a trip to Vietnam on the grounds that you can get good deals, think again. It comes at an emotional price. You've got to have people shop for you. If you don't have someone, you're done for.)

As I exited the bus near Hoan Kiem lake in mid-afternoon, street sellers began approaching loudly and quickly. I told myself that I would be polite, offering a simple "no, thank you" and moving on. This I did, but I realized it took about five or six of these to get a street seller to finally relent.

At one point, I was standing in line at the post office to purchase a phone card. I was approached by two different street sellers while standing in line. They began chatting in unison, in broken English, holding bags of items while I tried to turn away - to look at the ceiling, the floor, my fingernails, anything. In general, I never purchase from street sellers, because it always ends in frustration or being ripped off. (Remember: they won't sell if they're not ripping you off. Beware to those foreigners who think they're getting a bargain. Not in Hanoi.) Finally, I was so sick and tired of having her frustrate me, of having to say "no, thanks" a thousand and one times - of having to say, please leave me alone, I'm not buying - after all that, I decided to go back on my promise to myself. So instead of physically aiding her in leaving me alone, I said to myself, "hey, I need some postcards, why don't I check to see if there are any I'd like?" So I entertained one of the sellers. How much for a set? $5, she says. (A straight-up rip-off; the ten postcards are worth at MOST 50 cents, and anything you want to pay on top to the seller as charity is up to your big heart. Charity or not, however, it still looks like you're getting ripped off, and they still think you're dumb.) So I was foolish and told her I'd take two sets for $4, which is (for any mathematically-inclined person) the stupidest thing possible to do. (It is not a business transaction, to say the least. It is either charity or extreme thoughtlessness.) She was like, "oh, I don't know, not a very good deal." So I say, "then forget it, sister, I'm giving you a great deal, take it or leave it." Of course she doesn't understand.

So I look to see a map of Hanoi from this seller. I know that the bookstore sells the map for 34 cents. She says her map (identical) sells for $4. (Lunacy. Any rational economic agent would have laughed and called the police to have her arrested on harrassment charges.) I told her she could forget it. So she returns to the postcards and tries to sell those again. I just close my eyes, and in a spirit of stupidity/charity/kindness/frustration I buy a bunch of nonsense postcards for $4. I then made a promise to myself that I'd never do that again, ever. Trust me, for a guy who is spending $25,000 a year to major in Economics, that was probably the dumbest, most hair-brained thing to do. It went against every bone in my body. Why, then, did I do it? I didn't feel like I had the engery to argue with this cute little lady, unpleasant as she was. In a sense, I thought it was worth it to pay her to have her leave.

But that is pretty stupid as well. As soon as I buy the post cards, she leaves and talks to her friends. Soon, another 3 sellers are next to me, talking about how I should buy their stuff (identical to the stuff I just purchased). More postcards, more rip-off maps, more junk books (which are just photocopied and therefore illegal anyway). Instead of trying to do some big, anti-social karate kick to get them all to scatter in fear, I try to engage in conversation with a few of them. One of them very quickly turns from evil street-selling leech to a God-loved, rational human being. That was amazing. And the funny part was, I think it all happened inside of my own head.

But all that is arbitrary. I'm not here to shop, or deal with street sellers, or solve the problem of Vietnam's under-/un-employment; I'm here to simply learn Vietnamese. That's it. No tourism, no economics, etc. If you're here to try to apply what you learned in econ classes to a real-life situation, think again. I did all that last year, and it doesn't work. Vietnam is a beautiful country, but I'm sure that there's so much more to be discovered beneath the linguistic veil that keeps foreigners out of the look (okay, so there's also a genetic, racial veil that keeps us REALLY out of the loop, but that's another story).

Summer 2006

2006-02-15T14:28:00.000-08:00

During the summer of 2006 I will once again be traveling to Hanoi, Vietnam, most likely to attend Hanoi Teacher's Training College in order to become more competent in Vietnamese language. I will be leaving on May 19th from Los Angeles, arriving in Hanoi on the 20th, and I will depart from Hanoi on August 24th back to Los Angeles. Current accommodations are imprecise, since I will be at an educational institution that has mentioned the possibility a host family. I hope to give a full-time academic effort at the Vietnamese language, unlike last summer, which was full of leisure with T___'s family and lacked a formal rigor (which was extremely enjoyable, I should note, but I should have given a greater effort at learning the language). I will post updates as things progress. I hope to contact T___'s family in order to connect with them, because it has been a long time since we've last spoken. I must say that, even though T___ and I are no longer dating, we remain very close friends, and I do hope tremendously to see her family. I have been hesitant to write to them because I want to compose a letter in Vietnamese, but as you most likely inferred from my last post from Hanoi, my Vietnamese is mostly primitive. I am currently in the area of Boston, MA, studying full-time for a May 2007 baccalaureate degree in Economics and Mathematics. T___ is studying in Philadelphia for a May 2007 baccalaureate degree in Business Administration.

Two happy Vietnamese vacationers, plus a little yada, yada, yada...

2005-08-12T22:06:00.000-07:00

Hanoi is much shorter than Bangkok, whose downtown skyline is built like a lost Tetris game, well-dominated by a multitude of skyscrapers and high-rise buildings. Hanoi’s old quarter, however, is primarily two stories high, and the city’s highest ordinary buildings stretch only six or seven stories above the ground. The few existing skyscrapers in Hanoi appear grossly monolithic across a fairly empty horizon. They add yet another ambiguity to the architectural mélange of Soviet communism, French colonialism, and early Vietnamese monarchy and peasantry that have finally been appended together in the same purview.

Bangkok did not seem to have the same throng of desperate street sellers that Hanoi had, whose primary weapons are to complain loudly to foreigners about their bad luck selling postcards, trinkets, or photocopied books, and then to begin to talk about their dire poverty and perhaps hold up an unhappy infant. Almost without exception, the slow-moving western visitor to Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi is inundated with a numbing throng of individuals. I have spoken with many of them about their situations, and in most cases they have left their native countryside homes in search of buried treasure in Hanoi but find that, as most have not finished primary school, the buried treasure is very hard to find.

Beggars in Vietnam tend to be outspoken and visibly separate from the surrounding crowd. They are often disproportionately elderly, crippled, or very young, and they congregate in districts heavily frequented by foreigners. The most successful beggars are those who can incorporate of the relevant aspects into a coherent, pitiable presentation that can woo an unknowing individual into making a deposit upon the briefest of glances. After all, those who are employed by others to be beggars in tourist districts quickly realize that their ultimate success depends upon the degree to which they can render their presentations effective and make their efforts useful. In Vietnam, beggars have learned this skill, and have turned begging into a veritable occupation, complete with a learned corpus of skills and techniques. For example, the most profitable beggars are often crippled elderly individuals carrying infants or walking with young children, and as a result these two classes of individuals are significantly over-represented among the beggars seen in the tourist districts of Hanoi. Some see this as a form of exploitation of the young and elderly, even though the young and old often act as free agents in this profession.

For many street children in particular, the choices tend to be grim. Primary education is a luxury in the minds of those who are hungry, or perceive themselves to be in dire poverty; consequently, in order to establish entitlement over a sufficient quantity of food, shelter, or some other commodity, street children and their families are required to work long hours, very often sacrificing their final years of schooling. The free agency of street children in choosing to become beggars, prostitutes, or post-card vendors, however, is precisely that which keeps them from hunger, as they are able to choose to work in order to eat. Consequently, in present-day Vietnam, there is little consistent hunger, but, according to a survey published in Hanoi, only half of the school-age and post-school age population has completed primary school, and there are exceeding numbers of child prostitutes. It is ambiguous whether or not the difficulties incurred to an individual exploited as a child laborer or a prostitute are greater than the difficulties incurred to a non-child laborer or non-child prostitute, who has been liberated of his right to work, but is thereby unable to establish entitlement over a sufficient quantity of food. In this regard, hunger is perhaps much more exploitative than child labor or prostitution.

There is a very funny story that must be told here. It was in Bangkok that I first realized how the Vietnamese are different from the Thai in the way that they sat in public places. The Vietnamese – including the individuals from large cities – make good use of the human body’s squatting position, and will often squat quite comfortably on the ground in order to talk or wait. This is accentuated by the fact that Vietnamese people are, in general quite slender, which makes squatting less burdensome. It was just today that I was in the bus when I caught glimpse of a group of skinny men, quite casually squatting on the ground and smoking cigarettes in a circle. In market places as well, squatting is very common, and I can’t recall how many times I nearly walked right through a group of squatting of women, who were in the marketplaces of Hanoi passing the time chatting.

Now here’s what makes it all so funny. Squatting does not seem to be exceedingly popular amongst the Bangkok Thais, who are perhaps too well-fed to squat comfortably. Our tour was taking many people from Mr. Hung’s work along. It was early one morning at breakfast that two Vietnamese men from our group decided to go outside beneath the trellised arbor in the courtyard in front of the entrance to the hotel. In the courtyard to the left was the infamous Kinaree “Traditional Thai Massage Parlor” (which actually turned out to be a brothel).

So right, here are two skinny men from Hanoi enjoying the shade during their vacation in Thailand, with one happily sipping coffee and the other calmly smoking a cigarette. They’re sitting as they would on the streets of Hanoi – you know, in the traditional Vietnamese squatting position. After a while, a fat Thai man passes, looks at the two starving Vietnamese men squatting on the ground, and stands right in front of them and begins searching in his pocket. He finally pulls out a couple of coins and looks embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, and tosses the coins in the one man’s empty coffee cup, and walks away.

The two men have absolutely no idea what just happened. They’re not beggars, they’re vacationers. It just happens that they’re from another country where it doesn’t look miserable if you’re underweight squatting on the curb, holding a cup. But they finally understand what happened, and it has been the best story I’ve heard in a long time.

So I’ll post this one and see if it gets any responses…

Thailand, Part One

2005-08-07T07:53:00.000-07:00

I returned August 6th from a tour in Thailand with Mr. Hung's family and co-workers, having left for Bangkok on the 1st of August. Overall, it was wonderful; yet I must say that, in my own opinion, Vietnam seemed to be at least just as interesting, if not much more so. In reality, however, it is difficult to conclude much after a mere six days.

We arrived in the afternoon on a Monday, and just in time to relive a very familiar storm that had just passed from Hanoi to Bangkok. I must admit that Bangkok International Airport was much more crowded than Hanoi's Noi Bai Airport; on the day we left, from around 9 in the morning to about 11 or so, there was hardly anyone to be seen at Noi Bai, which was quite peaceful, whereas BIA was much more crowded and, well, much more chaotic.

There was a bus waiting right outside in a parking lot, which I discovered was to take us to the beach resort of Pattaya. I was in such a daze from the flight that, in boarding the bus, I hadn't noticed that I had entered from a door on the left side, and that the steering wheel was on the right side. This was all cleared up when I noticed that traffic in Thailand moved on the left, which was temporarily fascinating.

Our tour was Vietnamese-language only, and as I still understood nearly nothing, T___ had to occasionally translate useful information into English for me. Our tour guide spoke constantly throughout the entire journey; what I managed to learn from it all was that Pattaya was another one of those "cities with no memories," (um...) and that it was where all sorts of questionable, hedonistic activities occurred.

We were taken to a zoo outside of Pattaya, where we saw a crocodile show, which was quite terrifying. We seated in a large auditorium with a number of crocodiles loafing in the water; we were then served a plate of tasty crocodile meat, and the show began: the crocodiles were pulled around the stage, and the trainers would nimbly dodge their snaps and lunges; then they put their heads in the mouths of these giant beasts, only to have their huge jaws clamp shut milliseconds after they emerged. It was thrilling - utterly terrifying - to watch. A day later, we were taken to an elephant show. The elephant show was much lighter - elephants tossed balls, threw darts, played soccer, and painted pictures of trees and scenery; after the show, one of the elephants wrapped its large trunk around my waist and raised me high in the air.

Pattaya was crazy. According to the Thai tourism office, Pattaya is different from other beach resorts in South East Asia because it makes an "all-out attempt to provide the best of everything." It is a "fascinating escape where tourists, holiday makers and vacationers from around the world unfold an incomparable array of possibilities to unwind during an exotic holiday beach vacation." It is officially "the favorite Southeast Asian vacation center," as it welcomes more than "5 million visitors a year."

But why? My explanation for this question diverges significantly from the explanation offered by the official tourism website. The city of Pattaya itself is actually quite dingy. Of all the wonderful beaches I had seen in Vietnam, those in Pattaya did not compare by any means at all: Pattaya's beaches were much more polluted, and Vietnam's natural surroundings along its coastlines were much more attractive. The answer, in my opinion, lies in the fact that Pattaya is home to huge and unheard of amounts of cheap and legal prostitution. For just a few dollars, anything is possible.

Let me explain: I walked down the sidewalk near my hotel, which was located in a downtown area of Pattaya, and found it difficult to walk very far without hearing a call from some woman, or having a hand fly out towards me. Often I found myself literally dodging prostitutes who would hover anywhere convenient - in bars, at street corners, along the sidewalk, in the local Starbucks. The number of women ressembing prostitutes easily outnumbered the amount of men requesting services by five-fold. And this does not include the numerous brothels that litter the city, or those dance clubs that advertise "Go-Go" girls. And it certainly does not include the large number of women who do "under-cover" sex work at a legitimate job, as some masseuses often do.

We went to see a very unique dance performance at the Alcazar Cabaret Theatre. The show was entirely put on by under-dressed transvestites, who danced to a unique variety of pop-music. I have a photo of me smiling next to a very tall Thai man/woman. He resembles a woman nearly entirely, with the exception of certain unadultured and immediately recognizeable male features. He is wearing a costume bikini in the theatre parking lot.

The focus of our Vietnamese tour was mostly the sorts things that really impress the typical Vietnamese individual, who probably hasn't seen rampant prostitution, tall sky-scrapers, multiple-level highways, expensive shops selling high-quality vitamins and jewelry, or a shopping mall, but which do not typically capture the interests of serious western tourists. Our tour spent considerable amounts of time visiting shopping malls, department stores selling leather, snake-skin and elephant-skin products, and the like, whereas a much smaller proportion of time was dedicated to visiting the more “traditional” cultural sites in Thailand. It would not be unwise, however, to be skeptical of massage institutions that claim to offer “traditional” services, as they may double as marketing agencies for prostitutes. In fact, your masseuse may actually be a prostitute. Mine was…

Let me explain how it happened. I assure that it was entirely by accident. Jump ahead a few days to the Bangkok segment of the trip. Our hotel, the Manohra Hotel, was a conglomerate organization that paired with the Kinaree massage parlor and a travel agent to offer a wide variety of services. In each hotel room was a table brochure for Kinaree “Traditional” (wink-wink, nudge-nudge…) Thai Massage, which would send a masseuse to your room for 300 Baht per hour. You could also go to their place on the first floor and get a “Thai massage” in either a “standard room” for 150 Baht per hour or a “VIP room” for 300 Baht per hour. (At the time, 40.5 Thai Baht equaled US$1.) I noticed the brochure and showed it to T___ and her mother. We all agreed that we would go to this place together. After all, it seemed very legitimate, in comparison to the other sketchy places that I had seen in Pattaya.

Traditional Thai massage, so I have learned, was practiced primarily in Buddhist monasteries by monks. I wonder if this is because the monks were the only ones strong enough to handle the intimacy that Thai massage requires between giver and receiver. Traditional Thai massage is based on numerous Sen energy lines that flow through the body’s muscular system, much similar to (though quite different than) the Chinese meridians used in Tui Na massage and acupuncture. Thai masseurs and masseuses use these lines as a basis for body pressure and manipulation techniques. These lines are outlined charts printed in English and Thai, and often cross the most intimate parts of male and female anatomy.

Among other pressing techniques, Thai monks used “controlled buttocks pressing” in order to massage the body’s Sen lines. They also used body manipulation techniques that use the power and skill of the masseur to push and stretch the body in ways that it has not normally been stretched or pushed. Thai massage mandates a quite, serene environment with few visual or audio distractions, having only giver and receiver in the same room at a time. These sorts of things oblige a proximity and intimacy that can be easily exploited by masseurs and masseuses, and prostitutes in particular.

The front room of the Kinaree massage parlor was a small lobby, furnished with a desk and a couch on which sat numerous smiling women and no men. Tra’s mother, “co Hoa” paid at the front desk, and a lady led T___, “co Hoa” and me up to three separate rooms. The rooms were not sealed at the top, leaving a distance of about a foot between the wall and the ceiling. My room was across from Tra’s, which was next to her mother’s. Inside the rooms, there was a bed, a table with a lamp, and a sliding door with no lock. Upon the bed was a change of silk clothes; the hostess asked the three of us to change into the given outfit (which fit surprisingly well, which is quite rare, given that I had run into only a handful of such outfits in the clothes stores in Hanoi). After a small wait, a tall, scented lady who looked to be about twenty-three entered, dressed in long blue silk pants and a white shirt. She washed my feet.

She then asked what I wanted. I told her that I wanted a massage. She looked at me and laughed, asking if this was the first time I had ever had a Thai massage. I told her yes. She motioned that I should lay face-up on the bed, and after a shot pause, she then began massaging my feet, looking at me and smiling.

The massage was scheduled for two hours. It went from each foot individually to both feet together, then from each leg individually to both legs, then continued towards other parts of the body. It was the most relaxing experience of my life. I tried sleeping, but she didn’t understand why my eyes looked so funny when I closed them; it was at this point, that I really wished I knew how to tell her “yeah, when I was four years old, I had surgery on my eyes….” I tried to make conversation with the woman. She has been working at this job for a year and a few months. She learned to do massage at a school with tuition duration of a month. Her work load averages between two and four customers per day. She has traveled to Japan, Indonesia, and Singapore.

The massage progressed slowly. Each motion only slightly built off the last one, with a few exceptions. At first, intimate touching, of which there was relatively much, seemed as though it could possibly be accidental or coincidental, a “by-product” of the work required. However, as time passed, I began to see otherwise. Each time I asked a question, she would lower herself directly upon me and put her ear millimeters from my face, and I felt that there were far too many sexually explicit “accidents” to legitimize this deal. (Afterwards, I asked T___ how hers passed, and she led me to believe that it may be common. T___ claims that her female masseuse went even further than mine did during the massage itself.)

The coup de grace, however, was when she fell slowly against me and whispered in my ear if I would like a “special massage” for 2000 Baht, or about $50. I told her that I had no money – “no thank you, I just want a massage.” I smiled at her.

My face turned bright red and I felt like a fool. She continued in the previous manner, giving a wonderful massage, and we continued talking. I discovered she had been married once, but now is separated. She has two young children at home. She got this job to enable her to raise her family after her separation. She is thirty years old, ten years my elder. I did not ask her name.

Despite the awkward situation, the massage was excellent. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I bought a book on the real Traditional Thai Massage. Mr. Hung went for a massage at Kinaree, but didn’t like it at all and left half-way, claiming that it was far too painful. He says that there are much better places in Vietnam – he noted that we should go to the National School of Massage in Hanoi and have them try. Hopefully the massage school doesn’t double as a brothel…

I’ll be sure to say more tomorrow… (Maybe…)

Early Saturday morning

2005-07-22T18:28:00.000-07:00

There is an educational institution across the street that has the public courtesy of a terrorist organization.

The night before, I had gone to bed at midnight. This had been the earliest in days, as I had been unable to sleep other nights due to a dual eye/ear infection. For better or for worse, the eye infection has healed, leaving only a massive swell of pain in my ear that I can sleep on only very carefully. Needless to say, this morning I was eagerly looking forward to a good-night’s sleep.

Regardless, I awoke at 6:00 to the sound of a man’s voice blaring loudly from a megaphone across the street, which shook like thunder through the solid oak doors and cement walls that protect my room. His volume was so loud that each breath he took sounded like heavy wind; I tried to cover my head in a futile attempt to go back to sleep, but the pain in my ear was too great. He continued, relentlessly, while I sat in disbelief on the bed in my room and listened to it all through muffled, water-filled ears. As I sat, I slowly realized that this was not the first day at boot camp, or the announcement of Armageddon; it was just the first day of school at Chu Van An elementary school. The man speaking was the schoolmaster.

The speaker decided to play a CD of loud Mexican Samba music, which could hard play for ten seconds without skipping, talking loudly all the while; it then began to rain, and the children began to shout and run about, though they were ultimately required to sit down and absorb this speaker’s brutally over-amped teaching in addition to the pounding rain and lightning and dictatorial Samba groove. When the Samba finally finished, there was a hopefully silent pause, during which only children’s voices were faintly heard, only this was quickly met by another violent noise, which this time was another scratched CD containing Vietnamese language songs. Loud synthesizer trumpets blared disastrously alongside the speaker and his message, and the children would sing gleefully with him at each refrain. Then some child began singing loudly along - which, under different conditions would have been charming the sun had only barely managed to glow behind the clouds, very close on the horizon.

The first speaker then took the microphone again and began shouting clipped and over-audible phrases to the platoon of children sitting innocently at attention, behind a synthesised drum marching-beat. At the end of each utterance, the children would answer loudly in one voice, happily waving red monochrome flags and red banners with yellow text written upon them. Most of the children were wearing the typical student attire - blue shorts or skirts, white button-up shirts, and a red neck-tie.

I am writing this precisely as it is happening. I am now looking out the window to see how the children are assembled, and I observe that they are sitting on the ground in front of a stage, which is sparsely decorated with the exception of two large worded banners unfurled high in the air.

The speaker is presently shouting passionately to these kids (and apparently to the rest of Thuy Khue Street); it seems to be important, as occasionally his female counterpart joins in with him, and they both shout in unison. And when the music begins, they do not only should loudly, but with conviction and ferocity. Unfortunately, I do not understand a word of it, and the music has been turned sour by my unrelenting earache, which I will have to remedy soon, and by the sleepless night that has preceded it.

I’m not talking about some far-off noise that is faintly audible through the noise of the traffic; It is too early for even the traffic to make its usual thick cacaphony of horns. It is the most dominant sound in the air right now, it is right across the street, and it drowns out any noise the city is making; it is louder than the thunder and even the very sound of my voice; it is loud, repetitive, juvenile, and of poor quality; it is the noise of tyrannical oppression itself, at least for what concerns me at 6:00 Saturday morning.

This is a good chance to insert a slightly irrelevant French song that I enjoy, written and performed by Georges Brassens:

"[...] Le jour du Quatorze Juillet / je reste dans mon lit douillet. / La musique qui marche au pas, / cela ne me regarde pas. / Je ne fais pourtant de tort à personne, / en n'ecoutant pas le clairon qui sonne. / Mais les brav's gens n'aiment pas que / l'on suive une autre route qu'eux, / non les brav's gens n'aiment pas que / l'on suive une autre route qu'eux, / tout le monde me montre du doigt / sauf les manchots, ca va de soi. [...]"

By a quick, almost-literal, non-poetic translation, this becomes:

The day of the fourteenth of July / I stay in my cozy bed. / The music that marches on by / does not concern me. / I don’t do anybody much harm / in not listening to the sounding horns / But the “braves gens”* do not like it that / I do not follow the same road they do. / No, the “braves gens”* do not like it that / I do not follow the same road they do. / Everyone points the finger towards me, / except the handless, of course.

*”brave” is a word that typically means “courageous,” but which in this case implies someone naive. “Braves gens” refers to the type of people who are “brave.”

Of course, Mr. Brassens was referring to something nearly entirely different - the 14th of July, and not a tyrannical early-Saturday-morning jamboree - but I do find his humor refreshing, and I shouldn't miss a chance to insert some now.

Now the children are singing together, now the music has cut out and they stop, sitting in the rain, waiting for the CD to continue; now it is back and the children slowly join together; now it has cut out once again, and the loudspeaker interrupts with a blaring message that I cannot undersand, and the children quickly scatter towards the building and begin to disperse into their classrooms, and the music continues...

"No, thanks; I'm straight"

2005-06-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, T___'s father's company is going to the beach, and T___ and I have been invited. T___ doesn't have a bathing suit, so yesterday evening we decided to go to the Old Quarter to find one. T___'s grandmother, "ba noi," was kind enough to accompany us and do all the bargaining.*

We walked to the bus stop, caught bus #9, which took us through Ba Dinh (near to where T___'s old house is located). We meandered into the Old Quarter once again and stopped at Hoan Kiem Lake stop. From Hoan Kiem, we walked to an entire street that sold many varieties of clothing. This street had been "blocked off" to all non-pedestrian traffic, but despite this many motorbikes rode through. The store owners were in the process of bringing their merchandise out into the middle of the road under collapsable tents for the night market, which began shortly. We walked slowly up the street, looking into stores on either side of the roadway, which had their fronts opened entirely so that all the merchandise could be easily seen. The set-up was extremely intelligent: from any side of the street a potential buyer could nearly glimpse an store's entire inventory, since the stores were very narrow, and if a it had to display a large amount of inventory, it would often spill it out onto the sidewalks. We bought nothing, however; It seemed as though we were just sizing up the place for good deals.

We decided to have dinner after walking the length of the streets, past what the French used to call "les Halles" during the colonial years, but which now is referred to as "Dong Xuan" Market, or "Cho'. Do^\ng Xua^n". Here is what the building looked like during the colonial years:

A photo of Cho Dong Xuan, taken from a colonial-era post-card (this photo may not always appear):

Another photo of Cho Dong Xuan, taken recently:

We walked around to the side of the building, where we saw a great variety of street-food sellers, who charged at us, smiling and holding menus; our fearless leader, however, passed them all and turned down all their initial offers; she then stopped with us slightly beyond the very last seller. I think the effect of this was a lower price. She didn't cling to tightly to any one offer, and finally decided on one; I wasn't in a capacity to really understand the difference between the sellers beyond the prices they offered, since at first glance they were all very similar: they all operated under the same large tent in the middle of the street; they all used small, plastic furniture that was inevitably too small; all operated informally out of movable steel iceboxes and propane grills.

I had pigeon and beer. It was great, and you could watch from your table as they grabbed an entire bird with its feathers removed from the metal storage box, prepared it and grilled it whole, then cut it up with scissors and brought it out on a plate. It was inspiring - as I watched, I thought mostly about the plague that pigeons were to the streets of Paris, and decided that some ingenious soul could significantly alter the way that pigeons are incorporated in everyday Parisian life. Imagine if Brasserie de la Mairie du 8e did something creative with the pigeons on its terrace - something to the tune of "Pigeon & Fries" (which admittedly is not very creative at all), but you get the idea. (If not in the name of short-run profits, perhaps in the name of public service...)

So afterwards, we retraced our path to the clothes shops. We went from shop to shop, occasionally bargaining for something that seemed worth while; ba noi was very careful about what she bought. After a while, we made our purchases and headed towards the bus stop; the air had become cool and it seemed that it would rain soon.

I should say here that I've gotten used to stares from people; it is somewhat disorienting, but not that bad overall. For example, at the swimming pool in Tay Ho District, of all the staring faces, it is always the children who are the most forthcoming with their hello's and hi's. They approach very cautiously with large smiles, whisper to each other and then call out "hello" a number of times, usually while laughing. They then giggle and splash away. There have been a few elderly individuals who have stopped and made kind gestures to me - one man, who was speaking with the bike lot attendant, smiled and kindly patted my back as I went to grab my bike. Others have stopped to ask, "where from?"; overall, I have learned to treat these experiences as part of a much broader process of cultural learning, which is just another way of saying that I am careful before reacting harshly to new experiences that seem soemwhat disorienting.

But, needless to say, there is a time for everything - even (perhaps especially?) harsh reactions. Still in the mindset of cultural learning, I encountered a young man at the Hoan Kiem lake bus stop that evening after our experience in the Old Quarter. I looked at him, smiled, then looked away at the lake. Moments later, as I glanced around, I noticed that he was still staring at me, smiling, and occasionally laughing. Trying to appear natural, I laughed, too. We then got on the bus.

T___ sat with her grandmother and I sat by myself in a two-person seat behind them. This young man boarded and took the seat next to me, which was very small and tight. He then began asking general questions about my origins, about what I was here for - questions I could mostly understand and partially respond to. I asked if he was a student, and T___ helped translate his answer, as well as his other questions - where did I go to school, how long was I to stay in Ha Noi, etc. He told me that he was twenty; "to' cung hai muoi," I responded, which hopefully meant, "I am also twenty."

Then there was a long pause, interrupted by a question he asked: "Ban co nguoi yeu chua?" I understood this question to mean "Do you have a girlfriend yet," while really the Vietnamese does not indicate whether it is a "boy-" or a "girl-friend" as the English translation does. "Nguoi yeu" means more literally "lover" - "nguoi" meaning "person" and "yeu" meaning "love." T___ had heard, and told me not to respond to this question. Feeling socially confident, however, I did not listen to her advice, and I pointed to T___. He understood and laughed. At that moment, T___'s grandmother waved good-bye and got off the bus.

He then jerked around, smiled, tugged my shirt out, and began pulling at my chest hair. I've noticed that the Vietnamese do not generally have chest hair, or if so have at most very little. I took this in mind and assumed that this was an acceptable way of emphasising this fact, and I laughed, as I could not really say anything else.

He then made a similar jerking motion and began sizing up my thighs by grabbing his own, then grabbing mine, emphasising with his hands how much larger mine were than his. (Throughout, I had left a careful hand placed over my cash-carrying pocket.) "Ah, yes," I thought to myself, "how rare this is in the United States. We are a society that is afraid of the human touch. This must be a sign of friendship" and YADA YADA YADA. Meanwhile, to my horror, as I was philosophizing about the differences between Vietnamese and American cultures, this young man had begun rubbing (EEK, AAH, GULP) my thigh, slowly and gently. It was only then (?!) that I realized that he was also tightly pressed up against my entire left-side in a very strange position.

I laughed what was probably the most nervous and awkward laugh of the entire trip, and smacked his hand away from my leg in a long-overdue unconscious reaction to the whole situation. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I tried to maintain a sense of composure throughout it all. Moments later, T___ said that we had reached our stop, and I fumbled out of the seat into the asile. Hoping to leave him with the impression that it had been nice talking to him, (which, up to a certain point, it had been) I waved good-bye and left. He waved as the bus drove away, and I stood there, smiling and waving as well.

In all reality, even then I didn't know what to think of it all. For conservative, Vietnamese society, would it really be common for a gay man to openly show affection in public, espeically to a stranger? I found this hard to believe. I wanted to politely say to him, "no, thanks; I'm straight," but how do you say that in Vietnamese? And was he even gay?

I'm still not entirely certain whether this man was gay; but if so, I then have to ask what it was about my demeanor that gave him the impression that I was as well, or whether it was all by accident. We'll see how things go in the future...

- - - - - - - - - - - -

* "Ba\ no^.i" is the title given to the father's mother: "ba" is how an elderly woman is respectfully addressed; "noi" means "within"; "ba" + "noi" refers to the grandmother who is within the family.

A Recent Tragedy

2005-06-08T16:24:00.000-07:00

This post does not directly pertain to a specific experience in Vietnam.

J____ A______, a __-year-old boy from the church I attend in _______, died unexpectedly on ___, June __. His memorial funeral was held later during the following week at the _____ Church of ____. He had been living in _____.

I regret to say that I only really knew Josh as an acquaintance, having only spoken with him on various occasions at ___, or at Church-sponsored events, such as ski trips; I do know his grandfather very well - Mr. L____ - and I know his sister B_____. Here, I ought to continue by introducing myself as a member of a larger community of Christian brothers and sisters who had sought to take an intimate interest in his well-being - through both duty and calling. I can't help but shamefully examine, however, the actual role that I played, and inquire of the deeper and truer role that I could have played in his life in this capacity.

I also wonder, though, whether I would have had the spiritual readiness to take on any meaningful role at all - whether I would have even seized the opportunity for fellowship with this young man, or whether I would have instead excused myself from any significant involvement, through either laziness or lack of zeal. Perhaps there are others like me who feel they could have been just a little bit closer to J_____, as well as to others in our own communities who are facing similar difficulties. I now regret the times I may have been apathetic in dealing with peoples' problems, and am humbly thankful for all those who have not been apathetic to my own.

Mrs. & Mr. L____, what great friends you have been to me; what else can I do but humbly and profoundly acknowledge the unfathomable measure of this loss. If we could somehow glimpse a fuller, philosophical panorama of all the sorrows that endure in this world, it would do us little good, since greater than any sorrow is Christ's love and peace; in this sense, there is no sorrow without Joy, which is granted freely and without measure, so I hear.

Out shopping

2005-06-06T23:30:00.000-07:00

Context: it had been raining on-and-off for nearly the entire week, and T____ and I had gone out at ten o'clock on a sunny morning hoping to avoid the monsoonal rains, having apparently forgotten how much more brutal heat was than rain, and how sweat tends be just as soaking as rain, and much less pleasant. From the moment we opened the front gate, we were sweating, and kept sweating until we found some shade or an air-conditioned building.

The heat did become bearable, however. We walked down the street, through a narrow lane, and onto another large roadway where we waited for bus #14; the bus was pleasant and air-conditioned, and within no time we arrived at the Hoan Kiem Lake bus stop. T____ was going to an eye appointment, and afterwards we walked to an Optical Shop and had her new eyeglasses prepared, which were ready that same afternoon. We also planned on visiting a bookstore and a few shoe shops near the lake.

But here I wish to focus on two more specific incidents - one involving a street vendor, and another involving the owner of a downtown restaurant.

When we walked from the bus stop down the paths that ran alongside the lake, a street seller approached us carrying postcards and other small trinkets, speaking to us in rapid English. She seemed to be college-aged, and quite adept at getting attention. At first, I treated her as I had learned to do in Paris, as most anyone would treat a merchant selling an undesired product, which was simply by avoiding eye contact and engaging things only minimally, refusing politely and walking at a clipped pace. She, no doubt, was an expert in this profession, and I was the amateur; she began walking slightly ahead of us, alleging that she was a poor student, and that even if I didn't want what she was selling, that perhaps I could go for the postcards for the sake of charity. I mumbled to her that I was not the head of some chartiable organization, and I kept walking until she no longer had the energy to follow and talk to us. She stopped, shouted something to us in Vietnamese that clearly upset T____, and walked in the other direction.

Transition to the second incident: we had gone to the eye appointment, which was conducted quickly and in a similar manner as I had known in the US, back when I still wore glasses. Afterwards we went to a three-floor air-conditioned bookstore, with items in Vietnamese, French, and English, and I tried to see if I could find a better Vietnamese grammar book for foreigners, only finding newer editions of books I already owned. At any rate, we left and went shoe-shopping. The sellers all had open-air shops, with merchandise overflowing onto the sidewalks; if they didn't have the shoe you wanted in the exact size, they would in most cases construct it on-the-spot. (Of course my size twelve/thirteen shoe was never available.) We found a pair of shoes, had them fit, and then went in search of a place to eat.

Here's where the second incident occurred. We had found a small restaurant that opened onto the sidewalk, similar in size and appearance to the other surrounding structures. It was the first restaurant we crossed, and since the meat being grilled in front seemed spectacular, we walked inside. We were served bu/n cha? and beer, and it was (of course) delicious. Then it came time to pay the hostess, who stood cutting portions of meat in the corner with a large butcher's knife. She was charging the other partons five-thousand Vietnamese Dong; we figured that we would give more than the price she was charging the other customers, and finally decided that, although the total came to fifteen-thousand, we would give twenty-thousand.

Now it all happened so quickly - T____ got up from the table, went over to our hostess, and began speaking, calmly at first; the volume of their conversation eventually escalated to a level that carried throughout the entire restaurant; our hostess became shrill and cross, moving in snappy motions, and T____ became visibly tense; when our hostess smacked T____ firmly across the shoulder, I jumped up and ran over immediately, completely infuriated, understanding little more than the fact that this woman seemed totally nuts. I probably looked very dumb. Even though I was angry, I did realize that there was little that I could do to help.

So what I learned later was that the woman was asking nine-thousand each instead of five-thousand for each bowl. In my mind, it seemed irrational to suffer so much for such a small fraction of a dollar; for T____, however, who was used to Vietnamese prices, it was much more irrational pay nearly double for a meal merely because she was accompanied by an American.

So there was T____, offering our twenty-thousand Dong bill, and in front of her was the hostess, who kept shoving it away. I wanted to say to T____ that it wasn't worth it, that we should pay whatever extra she wanted and go, but by that time a large crowd of patrons had gathered around T____, talking excitedly. It seemed that they were shouting exclusively at her. At this point, T____ turned to them and asked if anyone else had paid nine-thousand Dong for a meal; the patrons stood quietly and thought about this for a while, then began shouting back that, after all, it was such a small difference for Westerners, and that I should just pay and leave it at that. I then looked back at our hostess, who stood shouting angrily with her knife in the air.

I tried to contemplate a way to escape in a manner that ensured a long, healthy lifespan for both T____ and me. But it worked out well - there was a young man sitting in a nearby seat who shut his eyes, raised his left hand high, and fluttered it in plain sight, apparently indicating that he had had his fill of this clamor and chaos. He urged her to let us go. T____ then said that we should leave. The patrons booed and hissed as we walked out.

Now, to all those reading this blog, I would like to offer this situation as a potential moral dilemma. Here are some "points" I have pondered in my mind.

First of all, while Australians / North Americans / Western Europeans (informally referred to as "Westerners") are not targeted exclusively for this kind of price discrimination, I have heard from my hosts that the opportunity to charge a Westerner a Western price is never missed. Stingy Westerners are not well-tolerated, since it is invariably expected that they can afford it.

Second, when people say that something is affordable, this is a statement that refers to both price and quantity. I can surely afford to pay $15 each for a series of books normally priced at $2 each; what this usually means, however, is that I purchase fewer books at the higher price. In theory, this applies here, too.

Third, price discrimination occurs in the United States, and it is something we generally accept. Examples include college financial aid packages, used car sales, and airline and movie tickets. In practice, there seems to be nothing wrong with me being judged by the color of my skin, so long as it is, in fact, a decent indicator of the content of my pocketbook. Right?

Fourth, Westerners in general tend to pay much higher prices in their home countries than in Vietnam, and are often little aware of the pricing situation locally. When a street seller offers a Westerner a set of postcards and prices them at a dollar, the Westerner in need of postcards sees this to be an okay price and agrees, or else tries to bargain it a little lower in order to show that it cannot go to more than one dollar. The seller knows that she would easily sell her merchandise to a local for a tenth of that price, but the Westerner doesn't know this, and sees the one-dollar asking price as fair. But does this entire notion of "fair" change once the Westerner knows that she could get a better price?

In the end, however, it tends to be that we're quibbling over fifty cents. But we do quibble like this in the US as well, for goods that tend to be repeatedly and rapidly consumed. Imagine the price of a gallon of milk were to go up by fifty cents. Imagine the price of a gallon of unleaded gasoline were to go up by fifty cents. In my own case, the price of "everything" has doubled. In a sense, "everything" is indeed a repeatedly and rapidly consumed commodity.

So let's hear it: what would you do? Comment on this post (actually don't, it's been disabled), and in your comments, give your analysis of the situation and what you think Westerners should do in similar situations. Or don't comment. Or go to the next blog site.

Toi noi tieng Viet khong tot lam

2005-06-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

"I do not speak Vietnamese very well," is what the title says. Technically, it should read like this: "To^i no/i tie^/ng Vie^.t kho^ng to^/t la(m." It is presently the most truthful statement I can utter in the language, but hopefully that will soon change.

At the Tokyo Narita Airport, there was a French woman who explained very firmly that there was no way anyone could learn Vietnamese without the aid of some man teaching at Harvard - Thay Binh, she called him, which means "Professor Binh." Her verdict was staunch - that I should have gone to Thay Binh before my trip; now, it was too late; the least I could do was enjoy the food. She was flying out of Tunis, in Tunisia, and seemed to be well-traveled. In a very droopy and worn-out way, she told me that Chinese was much easier than Vietnamese, and that Vietnamese was entirely unpronouncable and indistinguishable to foreigners.

I didn't want to believe her - I had purchased linguistic books on Vietnamese in both French and English from around the globe, and I had a bilingual Vietnamese friend who could initiate me to all the sounds and grammar difficulties; also, I knew that Vietnamese had a Latin-based script, which I thought should lighten the load considerably. Using this pattern of thought, I felt pretty well-prepared.

I think there is a much better way to frame this situation, however. My introduction would be merciless. All of the published introductions to the Vietnamese language I have come across begin by citing its six different intonations - straight ( ), rising (/), falling (\), punctuated (.), hiccuped (~), and low falling-rising (?). ("Punctuated" and "hiccuped" are not the official names for these tones.) Then they move on to the vocal sounds - vowels, consonants and sound clusters, etc. Only much later in the study was I ever shown how trivial the intonations actually sound in spoken conversation. (I mean, I had guessed as much, but there had always remained a small amount of hope.) At first, the differences between ma? and ma\ were so unnoticeably small that they really sounded exactly the same, no matter how slowly they were pronounced, or by whom.

Right, so as I was saying, *I* think there is a better way to frame a first-glance at the Vietnamese language (since I am, after all, an expert/scholar on the subject). A better way would do all the necessary scaring right at the outset - blow potential students away with the similarities between tones, then go on to explain how the vocal sounds are extremely similar, and even hiccupping off cue will totally befuddle your speech. My method would then show how still nobody can understand you if you (even slightly) mispronounce vowel/consonant sound. Take two relatively simple consonant sounds - "t" and "th." "Ta/ch" means "to break apart," and "tha/ch" means "to challenge." While at first glance, these words are very different - one has an "h" while the other does not - this does not seem to amount to much in spoken language. The "t" sound in "ta/ch" is smacked off the front teeth (I think), like a cross between the English "t" and "d" sounds. The "th" sound in "tha/ch" is more a composite "t" + "h," a "t-hack" sound. So this is a simple example. Remember as well that these two words have the same intonation. If you were to accidentally pronounce "tha.ch," which means "jelly," or "ta(/c," which means "to block," you probably wouldn't notice until too late.

Another fascinating (and equally frustrating) aspect of the Vietnamese language is how the most difficult word to pronounce just happens to be the word for "alcohol." (ru*o*.u) How ironic. So for all you who planned to go to Vietnam in order to get your hands on some cheap rice wine (ru*o*.u ga.o ne^/p), you face a significant setback - which is that nobody will understand you when you ask where to buy it, or really when you say anything at all about it. This can be worked around, I think, but it should be kept in mind.

Let's leave it at that - that I've certainly got progress to make in terms of language. But it's coming slowly, at the pace of a snail on crutches. (Yada yada yada, I know that snails can't use crutches.)

Bike, pool

2005-06-03T06:06:00.000-07:00

T____'s aunt has prepared a bicycle for me to ride. (I should ask if they've prepared a coffin, but perhaps this would be rude.) This bicycle idea really sounds excellent - this way, I can go around the city and really begin exploring. T____'s parents have also said that, for about 17$US, T____ and I can purchase a 31-use pass to a new chlorinated swimming pool that opened recently in Ha Noi near T____'s house, which is in biking distance. This will be good - I can already feel that my muscles have done very little physical activity, as the heat prohibits it most of the time. T____'s mother now really wants the three of us - T____, B____, and me - to go swimming every day, since thus far we've been quite immobile.

To be an oversized foreigner

2005-06-03T06:05:00.000-07:00

I really am getting the impression of being a giant everywhere I go here. Most doors are ten inches too short. Almost none of the clothes here fit me. In bed, I almost always have to curve like a giant shrimp. But it's all cool - it was very similar in France, where most of the places I stayed in where very old, and consequentially very much oriented towards accommodating shorter people.

When I went shopping with T____'s family yesterday, at nearly each store I walked into, I was severely scrutinized and followed; when I would pick up a shirt and look to see if it was the right size, the store attendant would scurry over and beguile me with a "try on?" and then point to a dressing room. On one occasion, I walked into a store, and there were four smiling female attendants. They all hurried next to me and followed me while I looked at the sizes of shirts, searching invariably for that longer-sized XL that was nearly never available. Finally, when I thought I was onto something that seemed to be my size, I grabbed the shirt and aimed for the dressing room, walking quickly, only to realize that it wasn't a dressing room at all, and that the real dressing room involved a shower curtain pulled across a portion of the store to my right, where the four attendants stood smiling and laughing.

Sometimes I'd try to lose their stares by pretending to be absolutely occupied in some mundane activity - like fixing the straps on my sandals, or wiping my forehead, or reading the backs of the colorful paper Vietnamese money - but it usually never worked, and I'd invariably look up to see them conspiring together, laughing, getting the attention of other customers. When I'd walk out of the dressing room with a new shirt on, they'd all laugh immediately, most likely because of how small nearly each shirt was - in XL, the largest size. After multiple attempts, I finally found one shirt that fit, one that probably was meant for export to taller countries but which had accidentally gotten mixed up with the domestic, shorter sizes. I was constantly being measured and remeasured by these attendants; shirts were constantly being brought and pushed against my chest (to estimate the size). Overall, it was awkward, but quite fun. I left as quickly as I had found a shirt that fit.

The past few days

2005-05-31T06:53:00.000-07:00

So to begin it all, I was sick but have recovered. It really knocked my sleeping habits back into Day One-type routines, where I would sleep for six hours during the day and nap at odd intervals during the night. (This was not the greatest feeling.) Additionally, I had no appetite, so even the slightest smell of cooking food made me uneasy. (!!!) But all that is (hopefully) in the past.

I still haven't gotten entirely used to the so-called "house-geckos," or "thach sung" (this is according to a Vietnamese-English animal picture encyclopedia) that crawl around and chirp during the night, but I've worked up enough confidence to try and shoo them out the window (though with little success). Over the past few days I have been mostly awake during these darker hours, so I have had a great deal of interaction with these tiny creatures. They are, after all, quite harmless, and they're no more than two or three inches long. They're also edible. (But by whom...)

T____ and I took a walk to a nearby park yestderday, after it had become relatively cool at around three o'clock. The woman at the entrance seemed to think it was appropriate to sell us two entry tickets each, perhaps (from her perspective) in the spirit of charity, but to T____ and I this only seemed to be some sort of ominous precedent for how we would be treated in the future, so long as I was present. Two tickets was the price she charged to foreigners and lovers, T____ told me laughing. Foreigners and lovers, so I hear, tend to breathe twice as much air as other people. (WHAT?!) So I got slightly upset. I looked at my ticket to see just how much I had been "ripped off." You can just imagine the thoughts that raced in my head when I saw that the price printed on one of the tickets: ONE THOUSAND Vietnamese Dong. ONE THOUSAND, and we had been sold two extra tickets. Man, that tipped the scales. Trying to contain myself, I asked T___ just how much that made in dollars. "Seven cents," she replied. "Well, a little less."

Oh. So I paid fourteen cents instead of seven cents. Man, to visit the park, T____ and I paid in total a whopping twenty-eight cents. Now THAT'S extortion.

The park was very well maintained, and the horticulture was exquisite. The air was thick and humid, which was appropriate for a tropical garden. There were giant trees with purple and red flowers, lakes and bridges, and islands - here, I could really tell that I was 8000-something miles away from Massachusetts.

We passed what seemed to be a martial arts class of collee-aged students, with everyone dressed in black, standing in formation, facing the teacher. T___ took me across a long bridge onto a small island, and she told me (as I was not quick enough to notice) that this was where *that* photo was taken - this is referring to a very old photograph of T___ in what seems to be a public garden, with her brother nearby; she must be only six or seven. As best I remember, the photo shows T___ standing in front of a very small grove of very tall bamboo stocks.

So after we had walked around the park, we sat down on a bench in the shade and observed the varieties of individuals who escape to these parks - these were mostly lovers, runners, and the elderly. A family passed by, and a few young children called "hello" to us from across the path. Kissing, which seems to be quite prohibited in most public places, seems to be amply permitted in the park, and it was in the park that young people came to withdraw into another life, obviously far from the traditional regard of grandparents and aunts, mothers and uncles.

An elderly man approached us and asked if we wanted to purchase a nylon carpet for sitting outdoors. He was a very short man, walking with a limp, missing most of his front teeth, and had a pale, blind glaze over his left eye. Yet he was lively and smiling, and extremely interested in us. I was interested as well.

He turned and asked T____ if I came from England or France. She told him neither, that I came from the US. He stood and thought for a little while, and then in a very inquisitive demeanor, turned and began speaking to me in French. (He must have figured that we spoke French in the US, but hey, whatever works...) He began slowly, saying bonsoir and bonjour in a very friendly way. He then asked how old I was, and I told him. He glanced curiously between T____ and me, then started saying that President Bush has been elected for two terms, and laughed... I didn't follow the direction of this statement, so I just lauged with him. He paused, then said to T___ something in Vietnamese, which in English is, "Forget the past, look into the future; friends." Then he shook my hand.

This man must have been over seventy; he's lived through French colonialism, the War, then the reconstruction. "Forget the past, look into the future; friends." I wonder what this statement truly meant to him - at the very least, it must signify a much more vivid and profound reconciliation than the one I have thus far come to know.

Uncle Sam's advice...

2005-05-26T19:33:00.000-07:00

This was taken from the United States Department of State website:

"Traffic in Vietnam is chaotic. Traffic accidents, mostly involving motorcycles and often resulting in traumatic head injury, are an increasingly serious hazard. At least 30 people die each day from transportation-related injuries. Traffic accident injuries are the leading cause of death, severe injury and emergency evacuation of foreigners in Vietnam, and are the single greatest health risk that U.S. citizens will face in Vietnam.

"Traffic moves on the right, although drivers frequently cross to the left to pass or turn, and motorcycles and bicycles often travel (illegally) against the flow of traffic. Horns are used constantly, often for no apparent reason. Streets in major cities are choked with motorcycles, cars, buses, trucks, bicycles, pedestrians and cyclos. Outside the cities, livestock compete with vehicles for road space. Sudden stops by motorcycles and bicycles make driving a particular hazard. Nationwide, drivers do not follow basic traffic principles, vehicles do not yield right of way, and there is little adherence to traffic laws or enforcement by traffic police. The number of traffic lights in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City is increasing, but red lights are often not obeyed. Most Vietnamese ride motorcycles, and an entire family often rides on one motorcycle.

"Road conditions are poor nationwide. Numerous tragic accidents have occurred due to poor road conditions that resulted in landslides, and American travelers have lost their lives in this way. Travelers should exercise extra caution in the countryside, as road conditions are particularly poor in rural areas.

"Driving at night is especially dangerous and drivers should exercise extreme caution. Roads are poorly lit, and there are few road signs. Buses and trucks often travel at high speed with bright lights that are rarely dimmed. Some motor vehicles may not use lights at all, vehicles of all types often stop in the road without any illumination, and livestock are likely to be encountered.

"Motorcyclists and bicyclists are strongly urged to wear helmets. Passengers in cars or taxis should use seatbelts when available, but should be aware that Vietnamese vehicles often are not equipped with working seatbelts. The Vietnamese government began mandating the use of motorcycle helmets on major roads leading to large urban centers in January 2001, but application and enforcement of this law have been slow and sporadic at best. New laws have been promulgated concerning the use of motorcycle helmets in urban areas as well, but have not been enforced. Child car seats are not available in Vietnam.

"The urban speed limit ranges from 30 to 40 km/h. The rural speed limit ranges from 40 to 60 km/h. Both speed limits are routinely ignored. Pedestrians should be careful, as sidewalks are extremely congested and uneven, and drivers of bicycles, motorcycles and other vehicles routinely ignore traffic signals and traffic flows, and even drive on sidewalks. For safety, pedestrians should look carefully in both directions before crossing streets, even when using a marked crosswalk with a green "walk" light illuminated."

Streets and walking

2005-05-25T15:24:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by saying that not only does the humid heat make you sweat more than ever, but that it also casts a thick, almost dream-like haze across the atmosphere, and that after too much exposure, it runs into your mind like a sedative and turns reality into some fanciful mental illusion. (...) Alright, so maybe that's stretching things a bit, but this is surely a heat to be reckoned with; it reminds me of Mississippi during summer, only more monsoonal and tropical.

A few days ago, T____ and I daringly ventured outside down the street for the first time - down ____ Street, towards downtown. As we walked, we stuck to that precarious section of road that runs right next to the sidewalk and dangerously close to the cars, motorbikes, and bicycles that zoom past to the right. To our left, people walked, cooked, sold merchanise, and socialized - together, it all was beautiful, chaotic, and alarming, an awesome dance at a breakneck pace. Etc. In short, it made me want to keep walking.

These streets bustle with livelihood - every section of the land is used. Sidewalks overflow with businesses - there is a man who cooks noodle soup early every morning, grabs some small plastic stools, a table and a sign, and then sets up an impromptu noodle shop right across the street. I'm talking about those small, stackable plastic table sets you buy for your toddler's third birthday - you know, the ones that come in green, red, and blue. Next time you're thinking about opening a business, keep this in mind: it may require less physical capital than you think.

The recent power-outages that have been occuring throughout all of North Vietnam must, at some level, affect everyone, but for the time being it seems as though people manage quite decently. Most cook with gas, or with kindling and wood; street sellers require little electicity, and customers don't seem to mind the temporary lack of flourescent lighting, since the shops tend to be small enough that natural sunlight can adequately make up the differences. Of course, for computer and tech companies, I'm sure that power outages must be quite frustrating. But Vietnam is primarily agricultural (63% of the labor force is in agriculture), and agriculture is still a very labor-intensive occupation (requiring thus very little electicity) so it must not be as large a problem as it could be.

Crossing the street is, as I may have already mentioned, a game of Russian roulette/frogger; let me give general directions. Look across the street, and imagine for our purposes that there are six (informal) lanes of motorbikes going by, three each in each direction. You look desperately for a button that says "Push to walk"; needless to say, you find none. You are not near a stop light, or anything else that is helpful for that matter. Your first instinct is to wait until the road is clear. This occurs for about one hour between 2:00 and 3:00 AM. It is at this moment that you realize that your only option is to cross between these lanes of traffic.

It is helpful to view each lane of traffic as a road in and of itself. In essence, then, you are not crossing one road, but instead six different roads, and between each is a small region where you are relatively safe. Watch out for the motorbikes as they come, and carefully step between them, hopefully avoiding busses and cars. Be sure to set things straight with God before ever stepping into that roadway.

Traffic lights do exist - I've seen a couple placed at the rather large intersections. I haven't seen any stop signs, though; I'm sure that they would cause far too much trouble anyway for the officials left in charge of enforcing them, and it would be a very unintelligent investment to begin with, since they would absolutely not have their intended effect.

I did walk by the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, and I must say that it was smaller than I had expected. It is significantly belittled by the vast courtyard in which it was placed - kind of like the elite dishes served in Parisian restaurants, in which your plate is fourteen inches in diameter, while the meal itself in the center only measures two or three inches. The giant political banners to the right and left of it seem to also add to this effect. It is to be appreciated, though, and it is powerfully important to the country's political heritage.

C's update on life back home, and S's response

2005-05-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

On May 23rd, 2005, my brother C____ wrote:

Hey S____. How well are you comprehending language over there? I bet its hard to converse.

Just to make life easier for you, I just want you to know that I crashed your car. It was an accident I swear. I had no idea the corner was going to be that sharp...

OH and m____ pooped on your bed. I didn't clean it up because its really gross. I'll just wait till you get back and let you handle it.

Lastly, your half of the room burned down. None of my stuff was even touched, and our beds are fine. But all your books, the desk, shelves, dresser, your clothes in the closet, and your sleeping bag all burned away to ash. Im sorry. I did open the windows to let the smoke escape.

Im sure you've been away longer than you think. Your Bro, C____.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

On May 24th, 2005, I responded:

C____ -

I speak Vietnamese fluently now. Yes, it's true that it's only been three days, but you know how these Southeast Asian languages can be. I hope you can learn a language or two (or ten!) during the summer, too. Just stick to the easy ones at first - Thai, Khmer, Cambodian, and then work your way to the harder ones. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly.

Yeah, it's too bad about the room, the car, and the bed. But don't worry. I've managed to land a dandy position as a trans-national cat meat smuggler, working out of Laos, and I won't be coming back to G____ anyway for a long time. With regards to the excrement M____ left behind on my bed, you can just let it ferment, grow fuzz, and decay - I even think that it may be served well with a fricasse or a ragout after a few weeks, with a chilled glass of white beer, of course. I've sure learned a lot from my friends over here - really resourceful folk, they sure do know how to take a bad situation and turn it into a eight-course meal.

I'm actually really sorry to say that, while I was packaging some gifts to send to you all at the house, I think that some larvae from a very hardy ash-beetle accidentally dropped in, most likely from the poisonous and unmentionably large insect Coleoptera Prealis, which is a sort of unweildy beetle that tends to inhabit sections of warm, moist ash. (Strange - just like the ash that is sitting in your room right now.) The Prealis eats wood and most wood products, as well as some electrical devices - homework and computers used for chatting, especially, and it won't die easily by any means, you know. There is relatively little you can do to stop the Prealis, and you know that Federal Express will demand you to sign and receive the package, and only through due process can you have returned to sender - by then, it will be too late.

I sure hope you know what to do with the ash in our room - that is, in order to avoid further trouble with its "regular" offspring. Just continue sprinkling the ash with cold water and salt, which will also keep the Prealis from mutating into anything, well, unmanageable. If you do this enough, the Prealis will doubtless remain at a constant weight of thirty pounds and a diameter of two feet, as opposed to the sixty pound-weight and the six or seven foot diameter it can approach when unregulated! Be vigilant, and use your brain. I tell you from experience that these creatures can be utterly frustrating. One even swallowed my video camera.

The Prealis has a predator, which is really nothing more than its own ugly and much larger mutant spawn, that can be very helpful in annihilating it and any offspring it produces. I have actually postmarked a live specimen for you just this morning, which is being shipped in a large, refrigerated container. It really is a perfect situation, since it is much more benign than the Prealis and can even play fetch, sing, and clean house if desired. It will probably sleep in my bed during the day (it is nocturnal), and conduct its business at night. These types of giant beetles are actually quite abundant in Vietnam, you know, and if you're careful enough they can prove quite useful housepets. Unfortunately they eat dog. Yes, I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner, but M____ will most likely be devoured, and once it runs out of dog, it will search out alternate sources of food, most likely in neighboring yards - the C____'s place, no doubt. Goodness gracious, how inconvenient, and what a public relations disaster. Oh well - I'm sure you will be resourceful enough to think of some manner of coping. I'm quite convinced that in the end it will prove to have been a favorable situation. Oh, and I guess I should mention that the only way to kill it is with some sort of chainsaw, or with a large projectile, like a rifle cartridge shot from very close up. Don't bother with anything smaller, like a handgun, as you probably shouldn't upset it. (Remember: sprays designed to kill insects were not designed with giant flesh-eating beetles in mind.)

Thanks for the update; if you're happy with the two large insects I have procured for you, I have more - at night, here, in the kitchen, I have found that I can approach their eggs while they are away devouring my laundry or my computer, and I can send as many eggs as you need.

Some people here manage to subdue the creatures with AK-47s and then deep-fry them with fish sauce in oil. It does leave an interesting aftertaste, though. Do as you wish.

- S____

The food

2005-05-23T09:03:00.000-07:00

Food in Vietnam has such distinct varieties of flavors. I'm pretty certain that Vietnamese people are aware of how excellent their food is, although T____ doesn't seem to think so.

Breakfast thus far has been mainly a delicious noodle soup, with beef, tomato, cilantro, scallions, fish sauce, and a great deal of other flavors. It is difficult to imagine ever being satisfied with, well, Cherios or Frosted Mini-Wheats ever again. I think I will have to learn how to make it myself, and begin doing it in the states.

Lunch and dinner have been different. We have not taken water with any of our meals, and T____ tells me that this is typical, although sometimes beer and wine are brought out. There are no napkins; instead, there are facial wipes that are offered at the end of the meal. Each person is given a small bowl of rice, and a variety of main dishes have been placed in the center of the table. Everything is cut small, designed to be eaten with chopsticks and a spoon. Each person serves herself with chopsticks, taking only small portions at a time - enough for two or three bites. The bowl of rice is then lifted very close to the mouth. A bite of the main meal is taken, then some rice is pushed over the edge of the bowl into the mouth with the chopsticks. Sometimes broth is ladeled in with the rice, and this is eaten by pushing rice and broth into the mouth in a similar way. Needless to say, I spilled rice everywhere. On one occasion, having coated the exterior of my bowl with spilled broth and sweat (keeping in mind the humid 95 degree weather), my bowl slipped temporarily from my grasp and flew through the air. Luckily I caught it milliseconds later in mid-air, but not before I had spilled sufficient quantities of rice and broth onto the other dishes. Luckily, my hosts are very forgiving folk with open-minded senses of humor.

I think I will make a cooking movie, recording T____'s aunt as she prepares the meals, since I really can't adequately describe how incredible these meals are - this short vignette surely doesn't do justice. My favorite so far has been a sort of deep-fried tofu stuffed with spiced ground pork. Each of the many varieties of fried meats is uniquely fascinating. Alright, so now that everyone is suitably jealous, go contact your neighborhood Vietnamese person and talk to him about his food. I'm sure he'll have a lot to say about it.

The rain

2005-05-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning was hot and humid, and I went up to the roof balcony with a camcorder in order to record all the activities that can be seen from that height - women washing clothes, old men doing their excercises on their balconies, workers hoisting water up to construction platforms in metal buckets. The city itself is relatively low-built - buildings tend to rise no higher than six or seven floors, with a few fifteen story hotels dotting the skyline. Here all the sounds can be heard in distinction: noises of motors and horns, distinct conversations, children laughing and playing at C____ elementary school. The air is hot with odors and fragrances, especially at noon. These are the fragrances from the flowering trees, from the pork cooked with fish sauce, from the very air itself, with its unidentifiable zest of earth, and doubtlessly pollution. And though I was sweating profusely, there was a breeze.

The electricity has gone out on two occasions yesterday - once in late morning for a few hours, and once again in the evening until about 2 AM. T____'s family tells me that this is because of the draught, which makes the hydroelectic plants unable to function properly, causing occasional power outages throughout the region. Strangely enough, I was trying to import video each time the power went out. It seems that matters of electricity and technology are not on my side in general.

But who could have possibly described prepared me for the rain? I awoke from an afternoon siesta to the sound of the rain splashing into the house through the open windows. I quickly changed into my swimming speedo and ran to the top floor, which had a patio with plants and a table set, and found Mr. H____ pushing the rising water away from the door of the of the patio before it could begin flowing down the stairs and into the house. He called from underneath the overhang to me and began motioning to me, holding out a disconnected broom handle, which I took from him. As he motioned, it took me some time to determine what exactly I was supposed to do, but I finally realized that I was supposed to unclog the gutters and push the waters into them. By this time, T____ was standing there, and it must have been surprising to see me standing on the edge of the patio wearing nothing but a speedo, holding a broken broom, bending and pushing water among all the tall plants on the balcony. It was certainly not the most dignifying undertaking, but it had to be done, and it was fun.

All of my electical equipment had been placed temporarily on the floor between two open windows, which had only become slightly moist when I awoke. The camera did not get moist at all - it was far from the rain.

The rain came down so heavily that within two hours it had entirely inundated the main road in front of the house, and motorbikes and cars splashed around the river of brown water in the middle of the road. The small creek that flows behind the house - a creek into which all sorts of human waste are disposed - had flowed onto the opposing sidewalk and into the first floors of some of the homes down the lane, and the bridge that normally rose over the waters was sumberged. Those who resided in homes on the opposite side stood in knee-high rubber boots holding brooms, pushing the occasional pieces of floating trash away from their doors as the rain beat down fiercely from all directions.

Technical considerations

2005-05-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

So now it is early morning, about fifteen minutes until five o'clock. I woke up about an hour ago and tried to start my computer, which didn't work for more than two minutes without giving up. I've got it plugged into a large, heavy-duty electrical transformer that converts 220V to 110V, and into that I have plugged a universal power-strip (my power-strip was fried by my own faulty transformer - luckily nothing else was plugged in), and I have both my external hard-drive and my laptop plugged into the same power-strip. The hard-drive has been working perfectly from AC power, and for a few hours yesterday I managed to import video clips to the hard-drive from my camcorder and began to export them as MPEG movies. What is strange, however, is that while the computer seems to be running off of its batteries, unable to draw from the AC power, the external hard-drive has been working fine from AC, even though both devices are plugged in and show all external vital signs of proper AC connection. The light on the Dell adapter is even lit, indicating that it is plugged into an AC power source. (The light on the computer connected to the Dell adapter indicating that the battery is charging is not lit.) I cannot seem to determine what is causing the trouble, so if anybody has any insight, feel free to post ideas here. For now I will not use either devices. I must also note that the plug on the power-strip I am using (connecting the power-strip to the transformer) recently had one of its two prongs disconnected from the body of the plug, but I re-inserted it, and it seems to be running well, given that the external hard-drive works fine. It doesn't seem that this is the problem.

Suddenly what seems to be an entire army of insects has begun squeaking in the tree outside the window, and the noise is nearly overwhelming. This reminds me - yesterday, I found my computer swamped with a great deal of small ants, running inside and out, across the keys and into the main ports; they are still there, and perhaps they have been causing these problems. I wanted to put the computer in the freezer for a couple of days, hoping that this would somehow negatively affect the ants and not the computer, but I'm not sure if things work that way. I appreciate any comments posted with this in mind.

Arrival in Vietnam

2005-05-20T20:01:00.000-07:00

I am writing from the home of Mr. T____ at Number___, _____ Street, located in the ____ district of Ha Noi, Viet Nam. I arrived here Friday night, at about 11:00 PM local time.

To put things simply, the most difficult aspect of the journey was its duration of over thirty hours. For some reason I didn't manage to sleep for more than a half-hour at a time, and I essentially relied on the free coffee served on the plane to buttress my sanity, as each passing hour became slightly more tedious than the last. In the end, I arrived in Ha Noi with little more than a clownish smile tatooed to my face, which I figured I would use to compensate for all the Vietnamese phrases I had allegedly learned but really forgotten.

It was late Friday evening when I exited the plane and entered the airport terminal, and the heavy air enveloped us like a hot towel - it was thick and moist, and our clothes immediately became damp. T____ and I followed the yellow signs out of the terminal, down a flight of stairs and into an large area marked passport control. After a short wait, our passports were stamped, and we were then sent into a large room with a glass wall at the far end and a vast and excited crowd waving from the other side. We finally grabbed our four bags from the carousel next to us, and exited towards the glass wall.

It had been two years since T____ had left Vietnam, and now she was back again, and her whole family had come to the airport. Her mother was the first to grab my hand and lead me into the crowd, and her eyes were full as she turned towards T____. I shook hands with her grandfather, who put his finger against his chest and said "ong" with a broad smile, indicating to me that this was the form by which I was to address him. I then greeted him by saying "Chau chao ong." There was also her grandmother, brother, aunt, cousin, and father, and each greeted us in distinction.

It was a long, dark drive down the two-lane highway into the city, which ressembled route 128, only with no barriers between the two directions of traffic. Motorbikes seemed to travel in the right-hand lane, and cars and busses in the left-hand lane, although to state things in such a clear-cut manner vastly oversimplifies the extreme chaos of the roadway, in which motorbikes sometimes crossed into the opposing flow of traffic and weaved through the onslaught like something from a movie.

I was overwhelmed by the novelty of it all - by the apparent beauty of the countryside lit by moonlight, by the varieties of trees and plants, by the charm of T____'s family - yet I knew it was more than just a first reaction. The country was genuinely charming. As we entered Ha Noi, there was green all around, there was the smell of dust, food, and plant in the air, and the sound of car horns and chatter. At that moment, I humbly acknowledged to God the depth and scope of the task before me, which had been to learn as much as possible about the languages and cultures of this land.

Preparations

2005-05-10T18:32:00.000-07:00

Final exams finish tomorrow, and that will mark a significant change in the tone of things in general, since there will be only eight days from that day until the day I leave for Vietnam on Thursday, the 19th of May, with my girlfriend T____, who is a native of Hanoi.

I can't seem to adequately conceptualize the reality of this "trip" - which is essentially that I'm headed off to Hanoi for over three months, that I don't speak more than a few words of Vietnamese, and that once more I will need to address the plethora of cultural issues one-at-a-time as they come, hopefully catching a "head's up" from T____ every now and then, but not really counting on it overall. While it sounds attractive, it really is too much to have her constantly keep an eye on the foreigner.

I will use Thang-Long as a means of addressing the large number of individuals interested in the journey without having to constantly worry about excessive email quantities. For the moment, I'll leave it at this, as there is little to report on, other than how typical life tends to be at Gordon College at this moment, full of a few successes and quite a few, well, unsuccesses. But it'll all go over well, for whatever it's worth.

Paris, 2001

2005-04-19T19:17:00.000-07:00

There is a large window in the back of the classroom at Fénelon Sainte-Marie which frames the top of a tree and a fourth floor limestone apartment. If you approach it closely, you will see a cathedral further down the road and the cars quickly scattering beyond it; open it during late summer, and you will feel the entering heat and all the aromas and distractions that drifted endlessly through the city and into our classroom.

It was in late summer during 2001 that I first looked through the large window. One hundred years prior, I was told, the school had taught the daughters of the Catholic aristocracy, and while this has changed, it still bore the beautiful and faded marks of its extravagance, and had large, elaborate mirrors on the walls of each room, though they were speckled with age. The building contained within its walls the essential fabric of human past. If you focused carefully, I always thought, you could hear their voices and footsteps; young faces and smiles still ghosted through the halls.

Later that afternoon, I had returned to apartment and heard the sound of a television. I approached to see who was home—

Pause.

There I saw Catherine, my host mother, standing upright and overwhelmed, embracing M, her daughter, and P-A, her son, as three thousand lives were ended.

Here is a snapshot of time. There was the fourth story window; there were the girls at Fénelon; now, there are these three individuals with their arms around each other.

There is an infinity of these images that constitutes every moment of our lives; they abound massively--wherever you look, life is happening, it is fleeting, overlooked. Each of us exists in a much greater context, serving a far more momentous purpose: in a way, I was bound to Catherine, I was bound to those whose fatal ends I witnessed. In a sense, I was bound to those girls from a century prior, in a world constantly awash of life and death, with little separation between the two. I had never seen things this way before.

September twelfth was sunny, as the previous day had been. When the bell rang, I got up from my desk and turned towards the window and saw a girl standing alone at the small balcony, staring down at the crowd below. I called out to her in broken French, asking her name. She turned to me and, in English, answered with a puzzled look on her face, saying that her name was Kate, that she was an American, and wasn’t I was well?

Kate and I descended to the sidewalk; at the corner of rue Monceau and rue du Général-Foy, there was roadwork continuing, and a new, pristine asphalt street trailed behind the large machines. Kate frowned when she saw that pavement that had replaced the cobblestones, perhaps the same stones those girls once walked on. These stones, snapshots of time and memories, were buried deep beneath the new road.

Whatever depth we imagine in our greatest treasures, it is only a shadow, an echo: its true beauty is lost and invariably missed.