ベトナム （Vietnam)

Hisashiburi, blog.

It took an entire week to fully recover from our adventures in Thailand and Vietnam, but I am recharged and ready to recount. I have poured through tons of pictures to refresh my memory and now that I have a can of Asahi Super Dry by my side I am ready write.

Ho Chi Minh City was the first stop during my week-long vacation away from Japan. Along with brave friend Thomas (brave for considering spending an entire week with me and my Geminian mood swings), I settled in for a six hour flight to Saigon International Airport from Tokyo exactly two weeks ago. For some strange reason, perhaps the two warm beers I had on the plane, I was not feeling all that great coming off the plane. I have only dealt with jet-lag once in my life, but I know this feeling was not the same. It wasn’t lethargy, but as if I had an irritable stomach before even attempting to try Vietnamese or Thai food. Perhaps I could blame it on the airplane food.

Nevertheless, after we settled into our hotel, among several other Japanese tourists, we did a little exploring. Our first mission: find some coffee for Thomas. Thomas has an ongoing love affair with Starbucks, but unfortunately he committed a minor infidelity by patronizing Highlands Coffee (not to be confused with the wonderful coffee shop on LSU’s North Gates).


After enjoying quite possibly the smallest cup of coffee known to man, we continued on our pursuit of Vietnamese nightlife. We literally walked in circles, allowing our radius from the hotel to lengthen ever so slightly so as not to get completely lost. And consequently, our walk made it much easier the next day when we actually developed a game plan.

That night, while I soaked in the tub, Thomas found some great places for lunch and dinner. I mentioned that I wanted to go to the Reunification Palace and the Vietnam War Museum. With that basic plan, we went to sleep. The next morning however, the plan started slightly drifting off-course, in a good way. We stumbled upon a really cool post office, which happened to be across from the Notre Dame of HCMC, a decent copy of Paris’ famous tourist destination. We walked up and down one street in particular looking for our lunch spot before realizing it was closed. Not being able to read the Vietnamese sign, we decided to go next door, to a Bún restaurant. Bún is rice vermicelli, which are very thin, white noodles. Lunch was amazing and the café was quite picturesque, drawing inspiration from nature and the greenery that thrives in Southeast Asia.






We took quite a few handsome shots that really incorporated the ambiance before moving on to the Reunification Palace.


There’s not much to say about this building, except it is well-preserved, as if the 70s never ended. After we left, we headed immediately to the Vietnam War Museum (well, after getting more coffee for Thomas). Inside, we were expectedly bombarded with pictures of war atrocities. Of course the coalition against North Vietnamese Communists was terrible. But the museum does not take a unbiased tone, it goes a little too far in sensationalizing the event to draw sympathy from those of us who are limited in our capacity to understand the era. That may sound either complex or emotionless, but my parents were barely alive during the Vietnam War. It is somewhat an alien concept to me and I cannot force myself develop strong feelings about it. I can honestly say if I were alive then I would be a part of the protests, but I can also say that if I were alive then I would not nearly have the broad circle of international friends that I do now. Looking at these pictures started to make me cry at first. There are some quite brutal and graphic images. But, as if someone used a plunger on my head, my capacity to care drained like a leaky pipe. I went from mortified and embarrassed to be from America, to remembering that the Vietnam War was not started by Americans, nor was America the only country involved. I never thought I would get defensive about American involvement in the war, but it was hard to see how the museum did not seem to emphasize that the war was fought by two halves of one country. Then again, Communist countries are known for their propaganda, and why should this museum in this country be any different. And it was not just me and my American arrogance, but Thomas, who is Japanese, started to feel overwhelmed as well. It was a full-out assault with a deadly weapon- ambiguous truth.


And, well, since we only had two days to spend in Vietnam, that- as they say- is that. I did enjoy the trip, and the food was amazing, but to say I never planned on going to Vietnam and had no expectations is an understatement. However, not knowing what to expect and giving the country a chance was a wise decision because I got to witness something so different from Japan and America, something real and yet equally ethereal. Especially when someone is coming at you on a motorcycle and you are rightfully standing on the sidewalk. It was a good trip, and if I go back I hope to meet up with someone who can actually show me things off the tourist grid. That’s the kind of thing I felt missing from our trip.

And that’s Vietnam. Next time I will give you the stats on Bangkok and Phuket. Till then…

Peace out.xx



Oh yeah! Here is the link to all of the pictures we took in both Vietnam and Phuket. Enjoy.

Latex can save your life

Yesterday, I told one of my students that I got tested for STIs last week.
He laughed.

Soon realizing that I was not in on the joke he stopped immediately, asking "sexual diseases, ne [right]?" Yes, I intoned, almost challenging him to ask why. We were previously talking about his recent health checkup so contextually I shared my recent visit to a clinic. He commented that I look healthy, which I told him is a major reason why people unwittingly spread diseases- the assumption of being able to spot someone with a sexually transmitted infection. Someone who isn't "clean," as they have unfairly been called. And while I thank him for the compliment, I owe being healthy to being aware that every sexual experience I have is one more possibility for contracting an infection, or the worst disease of all- pregnancy.

Now that I can take advantage of Japan's socialized health care, I immediately began with a battery of tests. After two bus transfers, I made my way back to the public health clinic, Hamamatsu Hokenjo, to get the results of the blood tests I took last week. Silently, I prayed that the needles are more sterile than the building they are housed in. This building has all the charm of Earl K. Long Hospital in Baton Rouge, but none of the inefficiency. Within minutes of arriving, my number was called and I was led into the same room where I previously answered a few questions like:

"Do you have a reason to believe you have recently contracted HIV/AIDS?" (No)
"Have you ever been treated for Syphilis or Chlamydia before?" (No)
"Do you routinely share needles with other people" (Um... well, not since 'Nam)

In Japan, if you take an anonymous blood test it is not customary for the result to be handed to you on paper or given over the phone. You have to come in-person and give your initials. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu" I greeted the nurse and told her immediately that I cannot speak Japanese. She said "Daijoubu [it's okay], I speak little English" before continuing in Japanese. Like the statement "guilty until proven innocent," I apparently understood Japanese until I pulled a strange face. She spoke, and I listened carefully for her intonation. If something sounded serious or if she asked a question that I didn't understand, I raised an eyebrow. She then translated the last word of her sentence, "Blah blah blah... paper." But she was very kind and patient, so I do not intend to make light of her effort to help me understand the results. All I needed to hear anyway was negative.

Finally, after searching for my results, she pointed to negative for all four tests and instantly became my new best friend (well, my new best Japanese friend... not that there's much competition). She continued to talk and I continued to say "Hai" until she made small talk. She asked me the typical question: "When do you come to Japan" (which, as an English teacher, I usually correct but this was not the time) and, in Japanese, asked me if I either eat or like Japanese food. I don't know which one but the answer is yes for both, so I said so. I thanked her and made my way back home to sit in my STI-free skin and thank all those in my life who champion safety.

My student is a good representative of many people I know, in America and abroad: people who believe testing for STIs is relegated for sex workers and homosexuals (and, you know, bisexuals). It is unfortunate that this ignorance spreads, like, well...legs. Everyone who is sexually active should be aware of their status regarding STIs and it should be regarded as routine as an annual physical. I honestly went into the office confident that I would once again receive favorable results (I almost typed positive results, but that would be assuredly antithetical) but leaving always produces a little healthy anxiety.

The best part about waiting a week for your results is reevaluating the sexual transgressions of the past. But getting tested isn't about regrets and the fear of sex. The absolute best part of getting those results is looking forward to the sexual adventures of the future and knowing that you have more time to play the game.

So play on.

Podium

In 24 hours, I will officially join what is thought by many to be "socialized health care." I will walk into a Hamamatsu ward office and leave with an insurance card. This card means doctors would only charge me 30% for any health care I need outside of the meager insurance provided by my company (which I was told at the ward office is traveler's insurance). So when I go to the dentist, a much needed trip, I will be responsible for paying 30% of the procedure and any prescriptions. It's the first time since I've been a working American male that I've had my own health insurance, and it is a shame that I could not get a similar option in America.

The landmark study "Care Without Coverage: Too Little, Too Late," has been widely quoted in the midst of the health care debate in America. This 193-page report has been so important because it points out that 30 million (that's one in seven) working-age Americans cannot get insurance from their employer or are too young for Medicare; approximately 10 million children lack insurance altogether. The fact that 18,314 people die in the USA each year should be a sobering one for the country that outspends the rest of the world in health care but provides only a fraction of the population with adequate health care.

For many Americans, the idea of not having health insurance is unfathomable. Some people have been fortunate to not know what it is like to lack coverage. However, this American has never had his own health insurance plan and is now officially too old to be covered under his mother's health insurance. In America, I would be between a rock and a hard place should something happen to me. Even when I was partially covered under my mother's plan, I had to pay a considerable amount for health care. It was generally enough that I usually avoided hospitals and dentists. That avoidance could have prevented my health, particularly my teeth, from declining. I know several people who refuse to call an ambulance because the cost of having one come to pick you up, even in an emergency, is not covered in their insurance, if they are in fact covered at the time of illness. Personally, I had to open a credit card to pay for previous dental work that I am still trying to pay for two years later, because the interest rate is sky high. If I were in America working the exact same job, I would not currently have any options to consider about my health care.

I do not say this lightly: thankfully, I am not in America.

I am in Japan, a country with socialized health care insurance and the world's highest life-expectancy rate. To be clear, about 80% of Japanese hospitals are privately owned, so it is not "socialized medicine," as NPR clarifies in an April article on the health care situation of Japan. Japan has what many Americans are fighting for now, universal health care. Specifically, a Public Option. Simply put, I can opt for National Health Insurance. Japan requires health care for everyone, but I can choose from three different programs:

1) Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)- Your company will provide you with this insurance if you are currently working full-time. Your deductible will come directly out of your paycheck and is a certain percentage of your earnings and will cover up to 70% of your medical bills. (Now the kicker is that full-time means 30 hours a week, I am reportedly working 29.5 and not full-time which makes me ineligible for this option.)

2) Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)- Opting into this plan means the government pays 70% of your treatment, while you pay the other 30%. This is the plan most students, unemployed and self-employed people have. The government sends you a bill every month like an insurance company but the amount you pay is based on residence tax, dependents and property owned.(This is the option I will have to choose)

3) Private Health Care- like America, you can choose your own personal health care option which gives you the coverage that you prefer at the costs you prefer. This option, for those who can afford it, usually means full-coverage, or at least more than 70% (which honestly isn't bad to begin with!)

In fact, the only people really complaining about Japanese health care are physicians. Japanese health care has limits on how much doctors can charge for operations and procedures. This is standardized across the country. While in America one doctor can charge an arm and a leg for an X-ray, the cost of imaging is the same all over Japan, and relatively cheaper.

Japanese people live longer than Americans because of diet as well as preventive care. They see a doctor three times as much as Americans according to T.R. Reid with NPR. And they see any doctor they want. Of course no health care plan is perfect, but the fact that I have choices, "options open to the public" if you will.

See, the thing people seem to be confused about is that the Public Option that the President is seeking is no different at all from the one already in place here in Japan and other intelligent developed countries. England's universal health care program began in 1911, but really expanded into the modern form in 1946 after the blitz of World War II. And England has learned that it's program isn't perfect and is currently seeking ways to reform it to improve hospitals and wait times. But at least it has a system in place to insure everyone has access to care. And no one in Japan has to declare bankruptcy because of unexpected hospital bills. It is a kick in the face that once a doctor saves your life you don't have much to life for when the bills pile up. Having a Public Option means I can choose to have private insurance or choose the government to assist me when I need health care. Knowing the government has a safety net for me makes me feel like an actual human being.

Which makes me afraid to figure out what will I be if I have to go back to the states and lose any coverage.

I'll continue to post about my journey through the scary path that is socialized health care.

Ikuzo.

Gundamn!

I am a nerd in fashionable clothing.

I don't come right out and say it, but I used to be hooked on Japanese animation. Loved it. From Thundercats to Voltron, Sailor Moon to Rurouni Kenshin. I watched it all and pretty much loved it all, especially Gundam Wing. Well, Gundam (large fighter robots piloted by humans) have been around in Japan for 50 years, and to celebrate their longevity, Tokyo has decided to build the first life-size Gundam in Odaiba Park this year, for one month only. So, I really picked the best time to live in Japan.

Here are a few pics of the awesomeness that is a life-sized Gundam.

Tokyo ni ikimasu!

Greetings, ether.

I finally decided to put fate into my own hands and stop waiting for something incredible to happen. I decided that I am tired of not having anything exciting to write about, so I made a plan to spend the month of June, my birthmonth, doing the things that I really want to do.

Of course I still have the obligation of doing my job, but on the weekends, I will be watching loads of theatre- the biggest reason I came to Japan. This upcoming weekend, I will begin in the best way possible: my first trip to Tokyo.

I'll get there close to midnight after Saturday's work to meet up with my new friend and Tokyo tourguide. He's already got our tickets to see a kabuki rendition of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, directed by one of Japan's most famous current directors: Ninagawa-san. But that's on Monday. On Sunday, we will be shopping all over Shibuya, heading to Ginza, and maybe Roppongi so I can finally buy some boots. Japanese feet are typically smaller than American, so the sizes don't come anywhere near 13 (30cm) in most shops. But the gaijin (foreigner) district of Tokyo, Roppongi, may have something for me. I hope so, because Japanese boots are so fierce, they might as well be labeled WMDs.

Pictures and updates to come.
And I still have to tell you about South Korea.

I'm so bad at keeping this thing updated. What the hell happened to me?

South Korea, backtracking

I'm gonna come clean with you:
This is written in the future about a trip that I took at the end of April-beginning of May.

I went to South Korea and had a terrific time just connecting with people. I didn't want to explore, I just wanted to have something I had been missing dearly in Japan:

Normal conversations with old friends.

Surprisingly, I managed to spend a week with five people from Baton Rouge who now live in Asia (Korea and Japan). It was splendid. Here are some pics to get you through the hard times. Kidding.

Ode to being the nice guy

Everyone Else

And yet
And yet everyone else gets what they want.
I'll see to it
I'll see to it that everyone else gets what they want
I'll see to it, and yet
I cannot see what I want.

What is it that I want?

Maybe these five years back.
Five years is a long time
Five years is a long time to see that everyone else gets what they want and yet
I still cannot see the point
The point
The point where everything feels home

And everyone else feels like home

And yet I am writing from your bed, alone
You made your bed
You made your bed now I lie in it
And yet
And yet being home is the only time where things make sense
Because I can sense through blue eyes

This is the last sleepover because of everyone else

And yet I can see the paths ahead of me and everyone else
The paths are made of dust and clay that forms
Clay that forms from
The clay is made of vermilion dust, two parts dust one part tears
Tears from blue eyes
Not shed over you

Not over you yet (not over you, yet)

A record to chant, a mantra on repeat
These tears are not shed over your skin
I can shed your skin
And yet
And yet the red dust is comprised of human skin
So dust is a reminder of everyone else

And yet everyone else gets what they want, and with green eyes I'll see to it that everyone else