#ben coming to help with the shiva is so sweet

[therealraewest]

Ben Grimm sending Marc a Hanukkah card every year

[isaacbendavid]

While he hadn’t been a Rabbi for very long in the grand scheme of his life, Isaac Ben-David had attended plenty of funerals. Jewish funerals. Where the kippot covered heads and the tallit covered shoulders, where mothers and brothers wept and G-d was praised. The Mourner’s Kaddish, in fact, never mentions death or loss. It speaks, instead, of the glory of G-d. How many times had Isaac lifted G-d’s name up in glory, mourned with the People Israel, Kol Yisrael? It was different, now, to be mourned with, to stand before the grave of his wife, to praise G-d as he held his son’s hand, this yahrzeit coming to a close.

What a year in his life it had become. It wasn’t so long ago that Isaac was still waking up each morning with his wife next to him in bed, auburn hair tousled about. When his day consisted of drinking coffee with his grandfather, walking along the beach with his wife and son. When he had been a Torah scholar, a true mensch. Everything had once felt so alive and full of possibility, when they were expecting a daughter, their beloved Talia, whose grave sat beside Shoshana’s now. Isaac had been inconsolable during their shiva, bound to fits of sobbing and then of rage, screams of grief muffled by the shoulder of his father or mother as he fell into them. But such overt displays of resentment and disbelief had been relinquished on that seventh day of mourning, when the eyes of his son had peered up at him, old enough to comprehend his loss. They had lasted only a few months in Tel Aviv following the burial, when Isaac finally admitted he needed help, and Levi and Eliana Ben-David welcome their son back to Eureka.

How strange it was now, to stand in this crowed group of mourners, his parents, cousins, dear friends, worse still, Shoshana’s family. Asher and Sarah Kopel, his brothers and sisters-law, all standing with devastation in their verdant eyes, the same as Shoshana’s. He wondered, often, how they must loathe him. Shoshana had been so young, only twenty-six. They’d not been pleased to learn she was going to run off to Israel and marry Isaac, the then dubious rabbinical student with seemingly limited prospects. They had wanted her to see and have more of life, and then hers had come to such a sudden end. His mother-in-law had cautioned them on their quickness to marriage, that something so sudden was not built to last. They couldn’t comprehend the depth of this love, a love that had given them Noah, a love that would have brought Talia and countless other auburn haired, brown-eyed babies into the world if they’d only had the chance.

  They had all gathered at his grandparents’ home, the looming multifamily complex by the sea, where they tried to laugh, to smile, to honor the memory of their sweet Shoshana. Her brother Samuel spoke of their time as children, of near-death experiences they’d kept from their mother, of inside jokes, of the adulation he’d had for his eldest sister. Her best friend, Yael, sang the praises of a woman who had cherished her friends, had loved her son with every fiber in her being, and thanked G-d for bringing Isaac into her life. The stories went on and on, celebrations for a young soul stolen by foolishness. And then it was Isaac’s turn, after her mother and father had wept, as Levi had kept a hand on the back of his son’s head, letting Isaac lean into him for support. But now it was Isaac Ben-David turn to stand, to attest for his great blessing, to speak of the mitzvah that was the life of Shoshana Ben-David, Rebbetzin, Meyven, Macher, Shayna Punim, his Basheret.

  “I met Shoshana by chance, a story you all know by now. Shoshana claimed to be so certain of me that she had picked me out from a crowd of men in the Shuk Mahane Yehuda, where she could have had her pick of the ambition, better looking men fighting in the IDF. Somehow, in some way, I had stood out to this magnificent woman. I admit, for the first time in my life, I found the study of Torah much less practical, as I traipsed around the country following her Birthright trip. That was all the time it took, to fall in love. I waited patiently for that spring, when she would graduate from college and come back to visit me, a visit that became permanent. A wedding planned in record time, something we Jews are quite good at… And nine months later, our gorgeous boy, our tatala. I was always trepidatious and Shoshana was always determined. She ran our family home with an iron fist and a soft heart, caring for my beloved grandparents as though they were her own. Now, I think of the small things, how delicately she would comb Noah’s hair in the morning, the way she looked at me when she thought I didn’t notice, and how much she loved all of you. I used to worry that I had taken something from her, bringing her to Israel to live with me. It’s only in this past year that I realized every part of our brief life together was by her design, and I, the happy test subject. I think of the way she would hold my safta’s hand, the way she would sneak my zaide a cigarette and thought I wouldn’t catch him later. I think of all of this, these unspeakable bonds, a love I cannot properly put into words. I think of this woman, my wife, of the two people who made her, of the brothers and sisters and friends who helped shape her, and what a gift and sacrifice it was to share her with me. I…” 

It was then that Isaac paused, catching the gaze of Shoshana’s siblings, all younger than her, all looking far too much like her, and the mixture of sorrow and joy in their eyes as Isaac spoke of her. They had loved to host their family year-round, but Isaac had particularly enjoyed Samuel’s gap year, which he’d spent with them in Tel Aviv. Noah had only been a year old, and he had been a heaven-sent addition even as an eighteen-year-old without a lick of Hebrew under his belt. Sarah and Asher might resent Isaac for the rest of their days, but Isaac knew, at least, that he had allies in the rest of the Kopel clan.

  “I am a better man for having been loved by her.” Isaac concluded, feeling heavy-hearted and light-headed. He found himself back to his chair, where his father’s arm wrapped around him, his mother’s hand on his knee. And there Isaac sat, prone to a muted agony until the memorializing was over, and he could sit alone on the sands of the Mediterranean Sea as the moon bathed the ocean in white light, and his brain could finally quiet.

And in that quiet, he wondered if it was truly for the best that he and Noah remain in Israel. So much of his shared life with Shoshana was here, dear friends, so much of his extended family, even now some of hers. He could be happy here, free from so much. As he sat, he concluded this was best. But then, as the Rabbi closed his eyes, there she was.

And it was then Isaac knew Eureka would soon be in his sights again.

[sweetsmellosuccess]

TIFF 2020: Days 1 & 2

Films: 5 Best Film of the Day(s): One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami…: I guess you could form an argument that basing a film on a pre-existing play would make the feature easier to put together, but that wouldn’t be taking into account the tremendous differences between the mediums, their relative strengths and weaknesses. For her feature debut, the Oscar-winning actress Regina King has cinematically adapted the stage play  by Kemp Powers about a fictionalized fateful night amongst four famous Black men in 1964. Those men, Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge), Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), and Cassius Clay (Eli Goree), are all in town ostensibly to celebrate Clay’s beatdown of Sonny Liston to first become the heavyweight champion of the world at the tender age of 22. But the film puts them all together in Malcolm X’s modest hotel room, watched over by Nation of Islam security men, to spend a night, essentially, debating the merits of what they bring to the struggle for Black equality and economic emancipation, and arguing back and forth about their distinct positions. Here is precisely where many play adaptations falter, without the dramatic friction of a live performance to power the emotional core, such conventions generally fall flat on the screen, but King’s virtuoso acting instincts serve her able cast well, and her work with DP Tami Reiker allows the film to flow, seemingly organically between its few location movements. Working from a skilled script by Powers, the celebrated figures feel three dimensional, which gives even their more didactic diatribes (Malcolm), and pithy rebuttals (Cooke) enough weight to avoid sounding contrived. The cast work wonders on the material, granting a needed organic vibe to their nonfiction characters, echoing the essences without tipping into caricature. It’s a strong debut for King, and the film’s complex ruminations on the responsibility of successful Black people towards their community as a means of bringing attention to the country’s oppression couldn’t be more on point. At one point Clay tells Cooke the four of them will always remain friends, because they are among the few who can possibly understand what it’s like to be “young, Black, famous, righteous, and unapologetic.”

Shiva Baby: Danielle (Rachel Sennott) is in the midst of having a day. Turns out Max (Danny Deferrari), the sugar daddy with whom she has frequently been visiting as part of her regular prostitution gig, is somehow a friend or cousin of the deceased at the same Shiva she has come to attend with her well-meaning, but completely overwhelming parents (Polly Draper and Fred Melamed). If that weren’t enough in Emma Seligman’s spry comedy, Danielle is also horrified to find Maya (Molly Gordon), a successful young woman she’s known for years, and a recent ex, also there. Crammed into the Shiva house, full of cousins and aunts and uncles all kvetching about everyone else, and being physically grabbed and moved about by her mother, Danielle faces this house of horrors, with everyone commenting concernedly on her weight-loss (“You look like Gwyneth Paltrow  —  on food stamps!” her mother hisses at her), and her lack of job prospects when she graduates, and her parents telling scathingly embarrassing stories about her in front of Max and his shiksa wife (Dianna Argon), whose 18-month-old baby, her mom says is “freakishly pale  —  and no nose,” with no respite in sight. As a result of this sort of hyper-scrutiny, Danielle goes the only route that makes any sense: Lying to everybody about nearly everything, from her current major (“gender business”), to the many job interviews she has supposedly lined up. She’s just trying to get through the ordeal, one that Seligman, along with a continually spiraling score from Ariel Marx, ratchets up, until, near the end, poor Danielle is in a near fugue state, sweat glistening on her face, and the attendees, shot in unflattering slo-mo, and distorted lenses, take on the sheen of a waking nightmare. At a brisk 77 minutes, the film still doesn’t have quite enough to sustain its running time  —  at a certain point it begins doubling back on itself  —  but it’s still a lot of horrific fun, as Seligman expertly captures the absolute loss of agency one can feel, swallowed up in a claustrophobic family gathering, where escape feels futile.

Limbo: If Scotland has a cinematic identity, as such, it seems like the kind of place, desolate and unforgiving, where individuals come to exit regular society and come to a land filled with eccentric loners (stoic and unique in their oddities), in order to get better in touch with their souls. Ben Sharrock’s serio-comedy captures both the pitiless beauty of the land, and the lonely plight of a Syrian immigrant, Omar (Amir El-Masry), waiting with a group of other men from across the Middle East and Africa, on an island off the mainland, for word from the Immigration Office that his bid for political asylum has been accepted. Omar, sweet-faced and approachable, was a musician by trade in his native Syria, and walks around everywhere carrying his precious oud, bequeathed to him by his grandfather, also a musician, even though his right hand is locked in a cast from an unspecified injury. Even without the cast, however, you get the sense that his heart really isn’t into playing, despite the entreaties from Farhad (Vikash Bhai), his Afghani roomie and self-appointed “agent and manager,” who wants him to enter a local music contest. Omar is carrying a significant amount of weight beyond missing his mother’s fragrant home-cooking. Talking to her on the lone payphone on the island, where other immigrants-in-waiting stand in line for a chance to hear from home, she implores him to speak to his older brother, who chose to stay behind in Syria and fight in the Civil War that has plagued the region for years. Omar feels guilty for having left, and suffers from having disappointed his father in the process. It doesn’t help him that the culture he finds himself in seems so foreign to him, despite his speaking flawless English. Sharrock’s brand of deadpan perfectly suits the setting, but as funny as the film can be (when asked in a culture/language class to create a sentence using the “I used to” construction, one immigrant offers “I used to be happy before I came here”), it doesn’t paint a rosy affirmation for Omar and his ilk, stuck as they are, as the title suggests, between countries and lives. Omar’s pain is real, and for every positive step forward he takes, it’s one further away from his family and his beloved home country.

Enemies of the State: Sonia Kennebeck’s challenging and curious documentary seems at first to present a case for its protagonist, Matt DeHart, a young teen hacker interested in social justice, who through his work with Wikileaks runs afoul of the U.S. government, and his beleaguered parents, Paul and Leann, who vigorously defend their only child against the evil forces conspiring against him. Through a series of personal interviews with Paul and Leann, both retired Air Force intelligence officers, who believe their country has turned against them for what Matt had downloaded from his computer into secret thumbdrives shortly before the FBI arrived at their door and confiscated all his equipment, and various lawyers they employed, first to protect Matt from what they claim as utterly bogus child-porn charges, then, after they slip away to Canada in the middle of the night, the lawyers trying to earn them asylum. While in Canada, under close supervision and confined to his parents’ apartment, Matt uses his charms, his hackavist bonafides, and his skill at PR, to generate enough interest in his case to become a digital cause celebe, along the lines of Edward Snowden and Chelsea Manning. Protests are fronted, defense funds gathered, and pressure put on the government to come clean about why they seem so hard-driving against the young man. During a peculiar reenactment set in a Canadian immigration hearing  —  Kennebeck employs actors who apparently lip sync their lines in perfect time with the actual recorded audio  —  DeHart describes a harrowing ordeal earlier in the affair, after having moved to Canada to attend college, being abducted by the FBI shortly after crossing the border to renew his Visa, and tortured for days for information related to the material on the thumb-drives. Some documentation seems to corroborate his claims (even Paul and Leann, as fierce supporters as can be, were shocked to see just how ready the FBI were to snatch him), but as the film continues, and we hear more and more from the investigators and prosecuting attorneys about the original child-pornography crimes, it becomes clear that our sympathies are being played with by Kennebeck. By the end, the film itself becomes an indictment of our rapid-assumption culture, in which decisions of guilt and innocence are determined in seconds online and forever after based on the presentation of information before us.

The Way I See It: For non Trumpites, the switchover from eight years of the dignified, intelligent, and measured leadership of Barack Obama, to the perma-tanned tackiness of power-mad, narcissistic bloviating of Donald Trump, was like a double-feature that went from Citizen Kane to Kevin James’ Loudest Farts. One man better than most to measure Obama’s time in office against the subsequent regime is photojournalist Pete Souza, who served as the official White House photographer for both of Obama’s terms, and has gone on to become an outspoken critic of Trump by way of his devastating IG account, in which he juxtaposes stately Obama photos with Trumps scandal-du-jour. Lest you think he’s just another divisively partisan liberal, you have to take into account his previous turn in the White House, as one of the official photographers for Ronald Reagan’s presidency. In fact, Souza’s fly-on-the-wall quality was considered one of his strengths in the oval office. Documentarian Dawn Porter travels with Souza as he makes the media rounds promoting his newest book, Shade, a collection of those IG photos that have earned him millions of social media followers (a sort of companion piece to his previous book Obama: An Intimate Portrait). Hauling from far-off India (where he gets a standing ovation before he even takes the stage), to domestic conferences and speaking engagements, Souza emerges as a man becoming more used to being out from behind his ever-present Canon lens. Through that lens, as he displays to his rapturous audiences, he has taken many hundreds of indelible photos, showing Obama’s various interactions with foreign dignitaries, his council of cabinet members, and his more raucous time with his two daughters (one shot of Obama with his girls making snow angels on the rear lawn during a heavy snow storm remains his computer screensaver, Souza says with pride). As Porter moves from talking heads to public oratories, Souza’s remarkable photos  —  brilliantly composed, and inspiringly intimate, having been given nearly unlimited access to the president  —  play throughout, showing us a collection of images that capture the inspiring hope the president inspired and the agonizing rigors of the job he was elected to perform. The film spends little time on his Reagan years, except to note how media and image-savvy the former Hollywood actor and his wife were (Souza professes no political ill-will towards the Reagans, other than noting that while he didn’t always agree with him, he was a genuinely caring man, who at least understood the parameters of leadership). At first, the film trolls Trump by a sort of subtweet level of backhandedness: Without directly naming names, Souza makes it entirely clear who he finds failing in comparison to Obama’s empathetic, engaging deportment, but by the time the film comes around to his notorious IG account, there can be no doubt the subject of his ire. Souza maintains it has less to do with his partisan feelings (his political affiliation is never revealed), and more the way he finds the current president’s undignified manner and total disrespect for the office and the leadership it demands unacceptable. Trumpers will of course take great exception to the portrait the film portrays of the sitting president, but even the most hardcore GOP folks won’t be able to help noting the blatant differences between the loving, genuinely close Obamas; and the preening, viciously competitive Trumps, each trying to outdo the others in acting as their father’s primary sycophant.

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.

[shimmershae]

My takeaways from tonight's episode--other than the fact that the Emmys are a fucking joke because Melissa McBride would already have several--are these:

Rick is still somewhat an arrogant dumbass, I see.  Just waltzing right up the Trash people's den of dirty dinge like that. 

 Nabila, I love you. 

 This all feels so very roadside memorial.

 The letters were a nice touch, I guess, a way to keep our scattered Team Family connected. You know what would have been even better?  Actual physical connections between them.  I don't know.  If this season is going to only cover like 3 fucking days, Carol and Daryl could have had longer than 30 seconds to say a potential final goodbye to each other.  Tara and Carol could have actually swapped lines on that overpass instead of just sitting pretty for the oh-so-awesome cool shot.  Characters could have actually interacted thus far.  Gimps and Co. only would have had to cut about 98 of their 100 instances thus far of dick-related dialogue.

My poor baby Aaron.  You're making my heart hurt. 

 Baby Gracie is precious. 

 So.  Carol's leading what's left of the Kingdom while their self-proclaimed King wallows in his manpain. 

 Maggie, it's so good to see you.  But goodness.  Are we sure you're not carrying a baby elephant?   Maybe this apocalypse has skewed with normal human gestation, lol.  As it is, baby Rhee should come out with a full head of black hair and pearly white teeth to show off when he smiles. 

 Naked Arts and Crafts in an landfill during a Zombie Apocalypse.  Yuck. 

 Somebody kill that skeezy sucker that shot Ben. Anybody. 

 Gregory, you spineless weasel. 

 Jesus, you're trying my patience.  And somebody remind me what happened to Morgan.  I know it's only been a day or so, but in real time, it's been 6 episodes and not much has been particularly memorable enough for me to actually remember. 

 Poor loyal, sweet Jerry.  I love you, too. 

 Damn.  Macsen looks so much like Madison I just cannot. 

 I hate the way the Garbage Pail quacks talk.  Hate it.  Rick isn't much better, though, lol.  The dialogue on this show...who talks like this? 

 I usually don't find much fault with Michonne, but what the hell?  Girl. 

 I'm not particularly pleased with the direction of Tara and Daryl's storylines as vigilantes this season no matter how understandable.  It really goes against the character of the characters as I've come to know them. 

 On the plus side, though.  Norman's actually enunciating lately, so I have tiny ray of hope that I won't have to turn on my closed captioning to actually decipher what the man is saying during any potential future Caryl scene. 

 That talkative Savior trying to be all reasonable and get in Jesus's good graces?  Not sure I trust him. 

 Like Thelma and Louise, this car ride of Michonne's and Rosita's is pretty ill-advised.  Getting out of the car, even more ill-advised injured as they are. 

 Carl approaching Siddiq and offering up his trust just like that.  I mean, it brought a tear to my eye, the callback to Lori--guh, do I miss her--but in trying to make your own way, Kid?  You're taking a page out of dear old Dad's book.  Lord help.  As much as I want to trust a man that kills walkers to honor his mother and free their souls, I feel like this can only end badly for our disobedient (not so little anymore) shit. 

 Henry, baby doll.  You've really stepped in in now. 

 This callback kills me because she's totally thinking about Sophia and it's written all over her face. 

 Maggie having Gregory put in the cage with the Saviors has me LOL.  Thank you, Margaret, for actually playing it smart.  Although, I do think it would have made more sense to keep those assholes outside Hilltop's walls. 

 Somebody kill that smarmy bastard that shot Ben.  Like seriously. 

 See you still know how to get yourself in a real pickle, Carlton.  Obviously, you're more like dear old dad than I'd originally thought. 

 But why didn't Rosita just use that RPG on the speaker truck?  If girl's so willing to sacrifice herself for vengeance, you know.  Just saying. 

 Second scene in a row that I could actually understand Daryl.  Now, if he could just make friends with a pair of scissors...

 The door was unlocked the whole time?  Carol's reaction was priceless, lol.  Melissa, have I mentioned yet that I love you?  Because you make me laugh in one frame and the very next one you're killing me with your mad skills. 

 Carol talking about acting until everything was actually okay breaks me, okay?  Those tears and that chin wobble?  My God, Woman.  She's still not okay, y'all.  But she's trying.  For the people she loves. 

 She absolutely could lead, whether she wants the mantle or not. 

 Oh, and Ezekiel sitting there with Shiva's chain?  Ouch.  Shiva and Zeke were the real ship, y'all.  Not in that way because eww.  But that was the most real connection the man had and you're not going to convince me otherwise   

 Maggie holding Gracie while Aaron talks about Eric?  My heart.  But seriously.  It's been a day and a half and my boy is talking like it's been longer than that.  I realize it feels fresh and far away at the same time, but it was still a little weird. 

 Bargaining chips.  Thank you again, Maggie.  For being smart.  This is war, after all. 

 Enid, baby girl.  Your mama/big sis Maggie isn't going to be happy with you. Not happy at all. 

 I get what they're trying to do with Daryl's traumatized ass, but I still don't like it. 

 I had to laugh at Jadis wearing Rick's boots.  So it's Andy's time to be nekkid.  Who's next, huh?  Maybe my babies get to be nekkie together, lol. 

 Sorry.  This got really long, lol.  I hope it was at least a little enjoyable, hahaha. 

[canbrake8-blog]

Vietnam, Part 2

Hitting the road again, or the skies I should say (although we did one bus ride during our trip – more about that later…), we touched down in Da Nang, specifically to visit The Museum of Cham Sculpture, a museum that is not to be missed if you’re in Vietnam.

I forgot all my deities since I stopped doing yoga (such as Ganesha and Shiva, and how one guy got that elephant head, and why Shiva is wearing that snake around their neck – and smiling about it), so it’s good to do a little reading about them before you go to help you understand more about the artifacts in this museum. We took an 8am flight out of Ho Chi Minh airport, landing about an hour later, and taking a taxi right from the airport to the museum, which is only 3km away (I’ve given some tips at the end of the post about using taxis in Vietnam, that are worth noting), so it was easy to get there and spend the morning looking at the remarkable sculptures and friezes, many dating back to the 4th century.

I have the lowest museum attention span in the world, and two hours in this museum was just the right about of time to take it all in. Then I grabbed a Grab to take us to Hoi An, where we spent the next two nights. The old town of Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and its traditional architecture is well-preserved, although not overly so. It still has a bit of funk, in spite of quite a few tourists (including us) roaming the streets.

Someone told me Hoi An is the most touristed town in Vietnam and it’d be hard to disagree. At night, the historic old town is jumping with people strolling by, and shops selling stuff, as well as locals offering everything from boat rides and fruit, to silk scarves (the town is known for its silk) and leather sandals. People also come to Hoi An to have suits and clothing made for them, and you’ll find several streets lined with custom tailor shops. Someone told me that if you bring a picture of what you like; a suit, a dress, or a shirt, they’ll make it for you, and have it ready in a day or two. I grew up wearing ties and jackets to school every day, so it takes a pretty compelling reason (or event) to get me into a suit, so I passed, but could have used a few more linen shirts since the ones I brought were splattered with Pho and dragon fruit stains.

Outside of the old town, we found more interesting things than in the old town, like the jumble of housewares being sold on a sidewalk, below, and spa treatments at White Rose Spa. We learned back in Ho Chi Minh City that massages and facials are very inexpensive in Vietnam, and mostly very good, so we’d indulged with our friends there, and now, here. (Note that it’s customary to tip if you had a good treatment.)

In Hoi An, we had a very good meal at Vy’s Market (the lime leaf chicken skewers were particularly good, as was the tofu skin salad), which someone online wrote was “sanitized” street food. It may have been, but we liked it all the same. Very fresh ingredients, nice servers, and tasty. Cao Lau Bale Well (45/3 Train Hung Dao) was recommended by several people (not locals) and while we found the place interesting, the Cao Lau noodles weren’t all that compelling. It was, however, charming, located off a side street in what was probably part of their home. They were also really nice, which made it…fine.

Another meal was at Nu. A sweet little place where the steamed pork buns were good, as was the chili ice cream we had for dessert. You won’t be the only English-speaking people dining there, but we liked it. There’s also a night market with an indoor eating area for street food, which I’d check out if I went back. If you want a taste of Egg Coffee, I had one at Passion Fruit coffee that even my skeptical partner liked. (I tried to compare it to sabayon, but he wasn’t having any of that.)

We stayed at the Vinh Hung Riverside hotel located on the river, not far from the old town, but far enough away so you were a decent distance from the fray. The staff was unfailingly polite and helpful and we had a nice room on the river, although I’d recommend perhaps staying in a room that’s not on the ground floor. I didn’t want to sleep with the door open so we shut everything and turned on the AC. The button on the machine was so bright that it was like a spotlight over us, in the room, which made it a bit difficult to sleep. It wasn’t really hot enough to warrant the AC, but we used it instead of keeping the door open. (Unfortunately, the unit was high on the wall and there wasn’t anything to block the light with, but I just discovered these, and am thinking of traveling with them because so many hotels have appliances and switches with really bright lights. Can people really sleep with all those lights flickering and glowing in the dark?) But we liked the hotel, which had a nice pool, and the breakfast offered a variety of Vietnamese foods and fruits. I gorged on rambutans, mangoes, and passion fruits.

We then took the 2-hour bus to Hue, which ended up taking a little more than 4 1/2 hours. The bus had funny, sort-of lie back seats, which looked appealing when I first saw them, but anyone taller than 5 feet (or who has never done yoga) might feel a bit squished after a while. (Another spoiler: You couldn’t sit upright in the seat, even if you wanted to.) While the bus had pillows, which Romain and some others grabbed for propping themselves up, the driver bellowed at anyone who took one, so they sheepishly put them back. I was okay lying halfway down for an afternoon, although some people were going all the way to Hanoi, and I’m sure they will need a few massage treatments to uncoil them once they arrive.

I hate to post the obligatory “I’m in paradise” shot, especially when so many of you (or us, which now includes me) are back in the cold. But this was a pretty beautiful spot in Hue.

It was our hotel, the Pilgrimage Village. It was located a little out-of-town, but the hotel had a shuttle and cabs were inexpensive (about $3 -4) to take you anywhere you wanted to go. So it wasn’t a problem going back and forth.

I was especially interested in going to the Dong Ba market in Hue. There was a lot to see there, and when our taxi driver dropped us off, he took Romain’s shoulder bag off his shoulder, and wrapped the handles around his neck, letting him know the keep his eyes on his things.

The market is pretty much an all-out assault of foods, spices, people, stuff, cookware, raw meat, kids, hats, seafood, fabric, jewelry, eyeglasses, bins of rice, tropical fruits, and more. Once you’re inside, you’ve pretty much go to go all-in. Even though the electricity seemed to be off in the market, we surged forward with everyone. If you stand still, within seconds, someone will slide past, through the narrow aisles with tables heaped with stuff on either side of you, and while it wasn’t at all dangerous, it’d be pretty easy to lose a billfold if you weren’t mindful of it.

Some people have said that the sellers were very aggressive here, although we didn’t find that to be too much of the case. Like other markets in Vietnam (except for the ones we went to in Ho Chi Minh City, if you stopped to look at anything, or even glance at it, the vendor will do their best to engage you and negotiate a price, even if you don’t really want it. It’s not my preferred way to shop, but that’s the way it’s done. Which was probably better for me anyway, as I didn’t have as so much to lug home. Although those colorful jars of pickled vegetables were certainly tempting!

We did track down the well-known Bun bo Hue (beef soup) stand, which is in the “street food” section of the market. (There’s a story about how to find it here.) We were a little underwhelmed, as the people next to us seemed to be. Maybe it was an off day, but if you look at the Bun bo Hue we had later that evening, two pics down, I’ll let you decide which soup looks better to you.

If you do go to the market in Hue, I would hire a guide, or take a tour of the market with someone who knows it well. It’s pretty overwhelming and there’s a lot of see, and taste, which isn’t so easy to do on your own. It’s definitely one of the great markets I’ve been to in the world, and worth exploring. But there was so much I wanted to know more about, it would have been nice to have someone navigate for us, and explain what things were, like these orange fruits (or vegetables?)

We ate well that night at Tai Phu where the Bun bo Hue (below) was more to my liking.

We also had some good Banh cuon (rice paper rolls) at Tai Phu, and Romain liked his Bun thit (vermicelli noodles with chicken) but the dish of the house seemed to be the pork skewers (nem lui), which came in a plentiful portion with green mango slices, noodles, and herbs, to roll in rice paper.

[A reader who lives in Hue was kind enough to chime in with some local spots for Bun bo Hue – thanks smallhue! – suggesting Bún Cam at 45 Le Loi and Bún Mụ Roi at 14 Nguyen Che Dieu, that she advised getting to before 8am for the best selection of “options,” as she called them. Our hotel had breakfast on a dock under a thatched roof, with unlimited Vietnamese coffees, so I wasn’t leaving there.]

If you eat at Tai Phu, be sure to arrive in the area early and walk around the streets, where an open-air market takes place. It’s pretty laid back, and like all the markets in Vietnam, you want to cry at how beautiful all the fruits and vegetables are, stacked, lined, and piled up. I think it’s called the Ben Ngu market.

The most beautiful meal we had in Vietnam was at a place whose name I forgot (I know…right?) It had a little open-air area within the restaurant, and from the outside, you’d never know such a charming place existed. When I remember the name, I’ll update the post.

However beautiful the meal was, it was a challenge to eat. Absolutely no offense to the restaurant, but the flavors were very, very strong, and hard to describe. I think, like Vegemite, natto, and blue cheese, some things don’t translate outside their culture. I can’t describe it but I felt bad leaving most of it behind. I also wasn’t feeling so great that day, so it was hard to power through a meal of distinctive flavors. But I will say, the others in the restaurant were eating everything and enjoying it, so it was definitely our tastes, and didn’t reflect on the quality (and the beauty) of the food.

We liked eating at HANH, in Hue, the night we arrived, which was recommended by a woman at our hotel. We started with tiny bowls holding steamed rice cakes with fresh shrimp and bits of crunchy pork rinds, which you pry from the bowls with a spoon and eat with fish sauce. I ordered a bottle of what was called “local rice wine” in English on the menu, and out came a 500ml (2 cup) bottle of “Men vodka.”

When I posted a picture on Instagram, one reader noted it was “just awful stuff” and another said, “terrible…unpleasant.” I asked the server if I could exchange it for shochu, which was so strong, I think I lost a few layers of enamel on my teeth trying to, and a couple of layers of my stomach lining, as I didn’t want to be impolite and leave a lot behind. I drank what I could, then chalked it up to a “lesson learned”! Perhaps the kitchen staff enjoyed the rest after their shift.

After returning to Ho Chi Minh City, we didn’t get to go back to Spice, which we really like the first night of our arrival, because it was Tet (New Year’s), which most of the city shuts down, including restaurants.

But we did eat at Quan Bui Garden (in District 2), where you can also buy beautiful contemporary Vietnamese pottery (I brought six plates back), and Restaurant 13, where we liked the beef and onions cooked in vinegar, which you wrap in rice paper rolls at the table, as well as the little crisp rice cakes, with shrimp and scallions, known as Banh Khot (above), which you wrap in leaves and eat.

At Com Nieu Sai Gon there were several families there celebrating Tet, and having a good time. We had jellied pork, crispy fish on rice (above), Caramelized clay Pot pork, and grilled prawns. (The menu had “fake dog meat” on it, which we didn’t order.) We kept hearing plates shatter, while people cheered, and weren’t sure what was happening. But the restaurant bakes rice until a crisp coating forms on the bottoms in small earthenware bowls. The rice is “presented” by smashing the bowl. It’s called Com Dap, and here’s a video of it:

I also met up with pals Marge Perry and David Bonom, who just happened to also be traveling through Vietnam at the same time, for Banh Mi sandwiches from Banh Mie Huynh Hoa, eating them at a local beer garden, whose men’s room was definitely rated R (or maybe X, depending on your sensibilities). I did take photos but worried that they would violate Instagram’s guidelines (and trust me, even after a few decades of living in San Francisco, I thought nothing would shock me), so didn’t publish them anywhere. But David and I are still recovering from it, and even Marge, who I insisted go into the men’s room for a look.

But I don’t want to leave you on that note, as Vietnam was wonderful. Some readers asked me how it was to travel through the country and I thought it was pretty great. On the whole, it was fairly easy to travel there and people were friendly and helpful. The food was very good, it’s not expensive, and the country is small enough so that you can visit several places if you’re there for ten days or so. It’s a country that’s in transition (they’ve gone through a lot), and has some challenges, but it was one of the most exciting places I’ve ever visited and next year, we’re planning to go back.

Here are some tips and suggestions for traveling in Vietnam:

1. Change money when you can. It’s not as easy to change money in Vietnam as it is elsewhere. While there are banks, locals don’t use them, instead preferring to change money elsewhere, if they can. Citibank and HSBC have ATMs which work with western credit cards; some local bank machines don’t work with U.S.-based cards. Citibank and HSBC ATMs are not everywhere, though, so use them when you find them. 

Many places take credit cards in Vietnam, but some places don’t. Taxis have credit card machines but over half the time, the driver told me they weren’t functioning. (One held up a broken wire, to show me.) So have cash available. Also be sure to call your bank before you go, to let them know you’ll be traveling in Vietnam.

2. Carry tissues or napkins. Some restaurants supply them, others have very small squares of wispy-thin paper to use, and others give you a pre-moistened towelette. The food can be saucy (and restrooms don’t always have towels or tissues) so I was glad I have little tissue packets on hand. You should also carry toilet tissue as restrooms don’t always have it.

3. Drink a lot of (bottled) water. The tap water should not be consumed and it’s easy to get dehydrated due to the heat. I was felled for a day with a mild fever, which maybe was attributed to not getting enough water. (Or perhaps something I ate.) While there are drugstores in Vietnam, they are more like counters with a pharmacist and pills are sold individually. Although we didn’t need them, some travelers find they need Immodium or a similar product, which traveling, so I recommend bringing a box along rather than trying to find a box when you’re desperate.

Similarly, you can get sunscreen in Vietnam, but it’s not as widely available as it may be at home. I recommend bringing a bottle or two, especially if you’re planning any beach time.

4. When eating out, especially at the markets or street food stalls, go to places that are crowded with locals. They won’t return to places that don’t have good hygiene. Use common sense when eating at stalls; look at how clean the surrounding area is, how the food is kept, how the food is prepared, and even the condition of the tables, chairs, and dining area. As someone who’s worked in a number of restaurant kitchens, a messy, disorganized place is not the sign of a diligent cook or owner.

At Pho places on the street, I buried the herbs in the hot soup if I thought they may have been washed with non-filtered water. If you’re unsure about the chopsticks, leave them in the boiling-hot soup a short while before using them. The Vietnamese enjoy cold drinks with ice and I drank plenty of drinks with ice, and didn’t have any issues. Most ice is purchased and made with filtered water. But if you have any doubts, skip the ice.

5. If taking a cab, always take a cab with a meter. Our friends who live there said that Vinasun and Mailinh (the green cabs) are two that have meters in them, and I always looked for one of those cabs. In our experience, it’s better to let them use the meter than agree on a fixed fare in advance. (The one time I did that, the ride was 30% more than the metered fare.) Taxis are very inexpensive and the fare from Ho Chi Minh City to or from the airport was around 150,000 VND ($7).

At places like airports, you’ll find nicely dressed guys with badges who will “guide” you from the cab line to a taxi, then tell you what the fare is. Those guys work for specific cab companies and I found it better to ignore them (in spite of their repeated, and sometimes relentless, pleadings…) and just get in a cab that has a meter. 

6. Grab is an Uber-like service that works the same way, via an app, which you can download before you go, but you’ll have to enter your credit card information while you’re in Vietnam. The service works like Uber. Note that you can order a car, or ride on the back of a scooter. (They provide a helmet for you if you choose the scooter option.) I used them a couple of times, including when we were swarmed by very aggressive cab drivers going into a museum (one even followed me around the museum), so I had a Grab driver meet me on the way out, and took his phone number down for future rides.

7. The currency conversion is a little complicated, at least to my non-mathematical brain. At the time of this writing, $1 = 23,000 Vietnamese Dong. There are no coins in Vietnam (yay!), but it’s easy to get confused. (And note that prices on menus and in shops will often be listed as just “230” when the price is 230,000.) I used AppBox Pro for currency conversions.

8. While it’s nice to learn the local language, Vietnamese is a challenge. I’m going to take some basic lessons next time I go, but Google translate was very helpful when I wanted specific information and couldn’t communicate. Some people do speak English, but most cab drivers (etc) don’t, so take a screenshot of an address or write it down (or have someone write it down for you), which helps, especially directions to the hotel. (Note that hotels that have names in English often have a different name in Vietnamese. Ask your hotel in advance to send you that information and print it out to bring with you, for the driver.) I often shared a screenshot with a cab driver of my destination on Google Maps, which they easily understood, too. Restaurants often have menus with pictures, which helps when ordering. 

9. People in Vietnam were quite friendly. I only got scolded once for taking a pic and most people were fine with it. When in doubt, ask first, but most people were surprised that I even asked, a few even posing.

10. SIM cards are super cheap – and my internet was at least four times faster than it is in Paris. (I wanted to bring it back with me!) If you have an unlocked phone, you can pick up a SIM card for a pittance and have internet access while you’re traveling. I got a SIM card at Mobifone and I think I paid the equivalent of $10 for an enormous amount of data. I went to one of their offices and the clerk was super-helpful and she took care of everything, making sure it worked on my phone before I left. Be sure to have a copy of your passport when purchasing a SIM card. (If you go to a currency conversion place, they’ll want to see it, too.)

11. If you travel within the country you’ll likely take VietJet. (The other option are long-distance buses.) Airfares are reasonable but note that they have a very, very restrictive carry-on allowance of only 7kg and if you go over, the supplement is $100. You can buy tickets that have more generous luggage allowance, but our friends who bought our tickets bought the least-expensive, which are how most Vietnamese people seem to fly (carry on only). Every flight we took that left in the afternoon or early evening was delayed for a couple of hours, so don’t schedule things too tight. We also weren’t able to check in online for any of our flights, but the process at the airport isn’t too difficult and the staff at the airports were pretty efficient. 

12. As for what to wear, I recommend dark-colored clothes as the food is a bit messy to eat, especially the soups. I ended up wearing the one dark, short sleeve linen shirt I’d brought most of the time, which was perfect, and I was miffed at myself for bringing light-colored items. It’s normal to wear sandals in Vietnam so bring a pair or two that are already broken in. Many people wear simple, non-fancy rubber sandals, which you can purchase inexpensively in Vietnam. I wasn’t anywhere where I needed to wear shoes, and once I took mine off, I didn’t put them back on until we headed to the airport for the plane home.

Depending on where you’re going, and when, you might want to pack a light sweater and a rain jacket. We only needed summer-weight clothes, but other places get chillier, depending on the latitude and season. Check the local forecast and pack accordingly. Unless you’re going to a formal event, you shouldn’t need any dressy clothes. If you plan to visit religious sites, such as temples and pagodas, men are expected to wear long pants and no tank tops; women should have something to cover bare shoulders, and you may not be admitted to certain places if wearing a short skirt or wear something with a low neckline.

13. If you want to ride a scooter, technically you are supposed to have a Vietnamese driver’s license. Some say that you can use an international driver’s license, but my friends who live there (who have Vietnamese ones) said that wasn’t the case. I rode on the back of my friend’s scooter for two weeks and it was a great way to get around. Some hotel rent bikes and scooters and I would use them, as they’re more familiar with the rules.

14. If you’re interested in cooking Vietnamese food, Andrea Nguyen’s cookbooks are great sources of recipes for Vietnamese dishes. This write-up of 25 Must-Eat Dishes in Saigon is helpful for identifying certain dishes, and where to find them in Ho Chi Minh City and these articles on best Hoi An restaurants and street food have some enticing addresses, too.

15. Lastly, to go to Vietnam, if you are traveling with an American passport, you’ll need a visa. If you search online, you’ll find a lot of websites which are fake visa processing centers. We used Vietnam Visa Center, which was recommended by Lonely Planet, and it worked well. (A friend who goes to Vietnam regularly uses this company.) We paid the extra small fee to have “fast track” service, and have someone meet us upon our arrival at the airport, and take us through. (Update: Several readers noted that Vietnam does have its own website for processing visas electronically. You can also obtain one from a Vietnamese embassy, too.)

For more on my trip to Vietnam, check out my Instagram Stories from Vietnam archived Here and Here, with videos and geo-tagged addresses.

Source: https://www.davidlebovitz.com/vietnam-part-2-hue-da-nang-hoi-an-phu-quoc-travel/

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Fic: Told Ya So

Title:   Told Ya So  Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1490 Character(s)/Pairing(s): Rory Martinez, Justin Takarai, mentions Satoru Takarai, Ben Takarai and Leena Auchenleck Summary:   Justin had been acting weird... Note: From the old LJ community.

Justin had been acting weird. Of course Rory normally found Justin to be weird- it came with the territory of being best friends with someone of the opposite gender- but he had been acting even weirder since coming back from ShinRa the night before. He came back to his house and she was sitting with his brother in the living room- as per usual she was having a hard time in one of her classes and Satoru had been very willing to help her out with whatever work she had to do- and Justin had just come in and made his way upstairs without really acknowledging them. Oh, when she had yelled out a hello to him he had merely waved his hand over his shoulder so that they wouldn’t feel ignored and that was it, merely vanishing up the stairs and into his room. Rory had looked over at Satoru, arching one of her dark eyebrows at him in question but he had merely looked back at her just confused as she herself was. He had no idea why his brother was basically zombie walking upstairs. But the strange thing about it was that he didn’t seem to be upset or hurt or anything of the like. It was this weird, weird kind of happy zombie walking. But it was just wasn’t like him to just walk right past them without saying a single word. He’d usually at least stop and ask them what they were doing or ask her what she was doing over since she was usually only over at the house because she was spending time Justin and not either of his brothers. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore both Satoru and Ben but Justin was the one who was her best friend so she spent most of her time with him if she was at the house. Tapping the edge of her pen a couple of times against the notebook in front of her, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, her eyes jumping back and forth between the stairway and where Satoru is sitting as she contemplates whether or not she should march herself up the stairs and demand to know what has made him seem all loopy-happy all of a sudden. He’s never, ever this loopy-happy. Not even when it’s pretty fucking obvious that he just got laid recently. It’s just not like him. It isn’t like him at all. Finally she dropped her pen down onto the notebook and pushed herself up from where she’s sitting on the floor, rubbing her hands against her jeans for no real reason as she moves though there’s absolutely no reason for it. “Be right back,” she tosses to Satoru almost as an afterthought and then heads up the stairs, practically skipping up them and heads down the hall to where Justin’s room if, lifting up her hand and curling it into a fist, rapping on the door with her knuckles. “You best be decent in there,” she called out to him. “And not be jerking off or anything. I already accidentally saw you naked once. I don’t want to be repeating that.” She closed her eyes for a second, shuddering slightly of the memory of climbing into his window like she had done a million times before only not knowing that he had started to sleep without any clothes on. It had been thoroughly traumatic. She didn’t like to think about Justin being an actual guy. Consciously she knew that he was, in fact, male but he was her best friend. It wasn’t like she thought of him as a ‘guy’. He was just Justin and that had just reinforced the fact that he was undeniably male. She opened the door without waiting for him to reply like she always did. In the few seconds it had taken her to be traumatized all over again over seeing him naked he would have had the chance to let her know that he wasn’t decent were that the case. Popping her head inside she found him sitting on his bed, one leg curled up so his knee is close to his chest, the other one stretched out in front of him. “Okay, you have some explaining to do,” she insisted as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and making her way over, sitting down on his bed just below where his foot is resting. “You’re acting weird.” “Am I?” he asked, his voice entirely nonchalant. “I hadn’t noticed.” “Oh, that’s bullshit.” Reaching out she slapped his leg, her mouth turning down at the corners into a frown. “You’ve got this weird, giddy, walking on air thing going on right now. You never looked that way. Not for as long as I’ve known you. And you have never, ever just walked past Satoru and I without saying something. Especially something bratty and sarcastic so what gives?” Lifting up her hand she pointed her index finger at him. “And don’t tell me that it’s nothing because we both know that’s a lie. And then I’ll just have to hit you. And not only do I hit hard but you won’t hit me back because I’m a girl.” He watched her quietly for a few moments, just looking at her face and then laughed a little, one of his dark eyebrows lifting up in question, almost like he’s daring her to actually go through with it and hit him even though he knows that she didn’t specifically want to. She just wanted answers. “I had a good day, that’s all,” he told her after a moment. “Oh, bullshit,” she replied, rolling her dark eyes at him. “You’ve had really, really good days before and have never, ever been this glowy happy before.” “So I had a very good day.” “Okay, the point is that I want to know why the day was so good. What happened that has made you so god damn happy. Sweet Shiva, you’re stubborn.” “I am not,” he insisted, then smiled a bit, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Okay, so I am but I’m not being stubborn right now.” “Then spill it. Or I’m going to seriously bop you, Justin.” He watched her quietly for a couple of moments, tilting his head slightly to the side as he does so and then let out a slow, soft sigh. “I sort of…kissed Leena,” he finally told her after a moment. “You what?!?!” “I kissed Leena.” “Well, it’s about fucking time.” She slaps his leg again albeit not as hard as before because now she’s more happy than annoyed. “How the hell did that happen?” “She was upset,” he told her after a moment, that smile still on his face even though she doesn’t think he knows it’s even there. “And…she told me she was in love with me,” he continued, this almost wistful tone to his voice (which really makes her want to gag). “….and I admitted to being in love with her.” “I knew it!” she exclaimed, hopping slightly on the bed so she can pull her legs up and underneath her, her own smile on her face though it isn’t a happy one so much as a self-satisfied one. “I’ve been telling you for nearly a year that Leena had a thing for you and you had a thing for me. But nooooooo. You kept telling me I was crazy. You kept saying that you two were just friends. Well bullshit!” Reaching up she grabbed the pillow Justin wasn’t resting against and lifted it up, slamming it against his side. “Don’t ever, ever doubt me when I tell you someone we know likes someone else we know. And if you ever, ever insist that I’m wrong when we both know that I’m right then I’m going to have to beat you bloody.” He laughed a little, lifting up his arm to block off another blow. “Don’t get too cocky now. Just because you were right one time it doesn’t mean you’ll always be right.” Rory smiled at him like the cat that just swallowed the proverbial canary. “Can’t help it. I was right. I’m feeling very, very content with myself right now.” “Yeah?” He smirked, leaning over a little bit so he can place his face close to hers, mischief making his eyes sparkle. She knew that look. She knew that look all too well. It made her stomach drop. “Well then,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “If you feel so good then maybe we should focus on your love life. Or your lack there of.” Blinking at him for a few seconds she groaned and flopped back onto the bed, lifting up the pillow and covering her face with it. She knew that now he’d needle her about that until he was blue in the face. Even from behind the pillow she could hear Justin laughing.