Good Morning, Vietnam!

Obligatory Robin Williams reference.

This post is brought to you the nearly ubiquitous availability of WiFi, which you can access anywhere from Starbucks to one of the ten karaoke bars on my street. Whether everyone here just loves karaoke or karaoke is code for something is TBD.

The night before embarking on this adventure, my brother-in-law, Mitch, informed me of all the ways I could die in Vietnam. On the list: abducted by a kidnapper holding a sign with my name on it at the airport. I told him my pickup was safely arranged, but when I saw a man with a sign labeled Mr. Anna Navatsyk, I gestured and pointed until he called the head of the organization to confirm I was not being whisked away to the human trafficking market. He was legit.

Thanks to a healthy blend of sleep aids and caffeine, I overcame jetlag quite quickly, and mild paranoia aside, my first few days in Hanoi have been a breath of fresh air. And by fresh air, I mean polluted air. Weather apps often include the pollen count, and I believe they should show a similar pollution count, so I can be prepared for bouts of sneezing.

The foliage seems to have adapted to the pollution, because the main streets are lined with beautiful flowers.*



Don’t stare too long, or you will be run over. The Vietnamese and I have a similar view on traffic laws: they are more like guidelines. This leads to real life Frogger every time you cross a street - a childhood dream come true! I’m on level six right now.

Not only am I successfully crossing the street without a scooter driver grabbing my cross body bag and dragging me down the highway– another danger Mitch warned me of - I have learned a bit of Vietnamese, a language in which the basic courtesies make conjugating Spanish verbs seem as easy as ABC. I may say “Nice to meet you” or “Chopsticks, soup, Band-Aid,” depending on my intonation. I’ll probably stick to hand gestures.

I am staying in a house with about 15 other volunteers and am older than most – apparently, not many people in their late twenties have the freedom to sacrifice months of their lives.* Thankfully, the adjustment to living with others has been smooth; I’m even comfortable with the cacophony of chewing during house meals.* Everyone is quite welcoming, and I spent the weekend discovering more of Hanoi.

I found quickly that temples are to Southeast Asia as cathedrals are to Europe. They’re around every corner, I feel awkward taking pictures while someone is praying (but I still do), and many cost money. The difference is, the average temple entrance fee is a dollar, so I'm more likely to enter.





At the first pagoda – fun fact: pagodas are exclusively Buddhist, while the idea of a temple dates back to the origins of Confucianism and its contemporary Taoism - we definitely get our money’s worth, as we happened upon a ceremony of sorts. There was dancing, fan waving, and a procession offering gifts such as cookies, beer, candy and chips.





Apparently, descendants want Buddha, and their ancestors, to enjoy modern decadences. This is a sentiment I can get behind, because if double stuffed Oreos and Reese’s peanut butter cups are combined to form a super food following my death, I want that box placed on my gravestone. With a bottle of Malbec/IPA blend and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos’ and movie theatre popcorn’s lovechild*.



During this same ceremony, a few locals asked to have their picture taken with me. My blonde hair and blue eyes are exotic. Finally, a place where my blondeness is appreciated rather than ridiculed and stigmatized.

Of course you are wondering about the food. Alas, I’m not prepared to speak to that yet, as I simply have been enjoying the meals prepared at the house. I can say there is a lot of rice and fried goodness, and should I ever be craving some Western food, I can walk to a Burger King, Dunkin Donuts, or Popeyes.* Speaking of Western comforts, I joined a gym for $15/month (take a note, Crossfit) to avoid becoming a fried rice patty and began attending a charismatic church where no one photographs me while I’m praying. I even saw a man in an Ohio State t-shirt, although I determined he was not from Ohio when I shouted “O-H” and he stared at me like I was crazy. Go buckeyes.

And o yes, I am volunteering. I met the teacher last week who is kind and eager to have my help, and I am looking forward to meeting the kids later this week. As long as I remember my bus route...

* The side streets, on the other hand, are alleys just large enough for you and two scooters passing one another as you put your back against the wall.
* Suckers.
* I don’t know why I hate the sound of chewing. I wish I hated the sound of the Blue Angels, because I encounter that much less often.
* Trust me, it would be good.
* Yes, they have Popeyes here. I expect Burger King and Dunkin Donuts, but this surprised me. For interested minds, there are 1500 Burger Kings in the Asia Pacific are alone and only 350 international Popeyes franchises, so my instinct was correct, per uszh. (I'm not sure how to right the abbreviated form of usual, but that seems close.)

Off to Change a Few Things

Have you ever been to Southeast Asia? No.
Do you speak the Vietnamese? No.
Have you ever worked with disabled kids? No.



I do have some pluck, though. Thanks to my sister, Julie, who gave me this picture as a reminder.

A couple months ago, I left my job and shortly thereafter was accepted to business school. With that, I received a rare gift - an amount of time too short to begin another job, but long enough to justify an adventure. I heard the voice of future Anna. She talks to me sometimes to ensure we will not be annoyed with present Anna's decisions. "You better not waste this time, twenty-seven year old Anna with zero responsibilities. Do something you will never be able to do again. And while you're at it, try to do some good."

I turned to Google: "how to travel abroad cheaply." The SEO powers of Greenheart Travel landed the site as one of my first options, and I immediately fell in love with an organization that offers a way to contribute to a culture while learning from it. It seemed a happy medium between hemorrhaging money to travel and the Peace Corps. Most of the offerings were with animals and the environment. While I love both of those, I love people more, so I chose to volunteer at a school for disabled children in Vietnam for eight weeks. By no means an intense amount of time, but certainly enough time to add a few items to my bag of pluck.

Best of all, they want me to be a featured writer. "Do you have a blog?" they asked. "Do I?!?" What an opportunity. My readership can expand from 15 people to 20, and more humans will be exposed to life according to Anna.

I know those loyal to the blog are wondering how this trip furthers my plan to conquer the world. Don't worry, it does. One of the points made in 33 Strategies of War*, is that adaptability and flexibility are integral parts of success. The more you are exposed to new experiences, the more nimble you become.

So off into a new experience I go! I am looking forward to good food, new relationships, and exciting adventure. I am looking forward to opening myself to a different culture, being influenced by those in it, and impacting others. And I am looking forward to sharing it all with you.

* I just like mentioning that I'm reading that book as often as possible.

What Number Date?

I have worked in restaurants for the better part of twelve years, and my experience has taught me a few truths: 1. If a patron has an accent, chances are they're not aware you only make $2/hour. 2. If someone orders a filet well done, they've never had a filet medium rare, and 3. Winter months suck. Especially in Charlottesville, where it seems the entire city hibernates once the temperature drops below 30. During this time, it is important to find ways to entertain yourself. Last night was one such night. I finished the most difficult sudoku in Cville weekly, continued my quest to get a drink named after me, and was wondering how next to stimulate my mind. Just then, a couple was sat in my section. Time to my play my favorite game - guess the backstory.

I do this with most of my tables. No judgement. Merely speculation. Where are they from, where do they work, how do they know one another? Is this business or pleasure? The most exciting tables are generally couples. Is it a first date? Are they parents on a special night out? Are they breaking up within the next two weeks? As a bartender, you have the advantage of hearing everything across the counter, but servers are only privy to the bits heard while passing the table or taking orders, making it a much more difficult task. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I greet the table, ready to determine their relationship stage.

First sign. No rings. Second sign. They are both sitting with extremely excellent posture. I think your posture directly correlates with how long you have been with someone. By your fiftieth anniversary, you're hunched. Both had dined at Commonwealth before and weren't sure of a drink choice yet, nor were they looking at the menu. Third sign: a veteran couple would have ordered drinks immediately and had menus opened. Eventually, the man orders a Jack and Coke, and the lady wanted "what he's having." Classic. Already they have a mutual love for mediocre whiskey over which they can bond.

I pass by a couple times to see if they would like to order appetizers, and they keep ignoring the menu. At this point, I feel anxious because I would have ordered twenty minutes ago. I have to remind myself not everyone goes out to dinner to immediately indulge. I can't wrap my head around this concept, so I serve them another round of drinks.

The man tells me: "We're having good conversation as our appetizer, and we will get entrees in a bit." Or: we're going to keep sucking down these jack and cokes on empty stomachs and see where the night leads.

I love good conversation. You know what else I love? Calamari. And pork belly.

I meander to the kitchen, and Joe, the expo for the night, asks if they are ordering food. Not yet. Definitely date 1, 2, or 3, and they haven't hooked up yet, because the sexual tension is palpable. Joe is not interested in my hypothesis.

Thankfully, the other servers are. Andrew confirms it was an early date. Her hair looked way too good to be out with her boyfriend. Molly overheard them introducing their jobs, which settled the question. Date number one.

Bold move - diving into dinner. You can't escape if the first twenty minutes are a nightmare. They seem to be enjoying themselves, though, and the outlook was definitely positive.

After forty minutes, I am about to simply order food for them, when they decide. Steak for the man, sea bass for the woman. Predictable.

The man orders a Vienna Lager, and the woman decides to switch to wine. She tells me she was doing things backwards, drinking liquor then wine. As I explain to her why this drink order made perfect sense, her date returns from the bathroom and gently caresses the back of her neck as he passes her chair. O man. There hadn't been this much excitement on a weekday since we switched the menu and got to try all of the dishes.

When I return to see if they like their meals, I am clearly interrupting.
"How are your meals?" I ask.
"Good," says the woman, "but I may need a side of dignity." Ahhh the classic "engage in witty rhetoric with the server" move, showing your versatile personality. I play along:
"Just keep drinking the wine. It helps."

Throughout dinner, their body language is positive. No arms crossing, a flip of the hair, leaning a bit over the table. Upon picking up their finished dishes, I realize they had reached the part where the woman tells him something a little personal, and he listens. Vulnerability. Support. A well rounded date, indeed.

They pass on dessert. I suspected they would want to get things moving. When I drop off the bill, the mood has lightened, and the woman casually mentions that her dog is taken care of for the evening. I was right. It's on.

They pay, I thank them for their patronage, tell them to enjoy the rest of their evening.

We're not finished, though. Now comes the awkward lull. They both know where the night is going to lead, but are not sure how to broach the subject. The man doesn't want to seem overly presumptuous, the woman doesn't want to seem easy, so instead they sit, nursing the last of their drinks. Meanwhile, I just want to cash out and go to my couch to catch some late night SportsCenter.

I consider going to the table and facilitating the conversation for them. Andrew encourages me: "If you play your cards right, you could be invited to join them." Perhaps as a commentator. After all, I had been commentating on their date all night.

Thankfully, they soon got up to go to the bathroom before leaving, a natural segue. I return to the kitchen, wondering if they will engage in a stairwell make-out or have the self control to wait until they leave our classy establishment.

Alas, I will not know. I am 95% sure this will lead somewhere, but not positive, and that is the frustrating part of this speculation game. I rarely see the truths of my presumptions. Tonight, though, the restaurant gods smiled upon me. I walk out of the kitchen, and behold, they had returned from the bathroom and were making out by the table. Congrats, crazy kids. I have a feeling another server will have the opportunity to assess date two.