Intrigue at the Hair Salon (Or How I Learned to Quit Worrying and Love My Cell Phone)

Once my parents recovered from the initial shock of the traffic and general sensory overload, they began to notice something about me that had changed. Not the fact that I have perpetually bad skin here from all the motobike exhaust, or the fact that I've probably lost a bit of muscle mass due to changes in my diet and the difficulty of getting a real workout here; they first noticed that I seemed to be constantly glued to the screen of my cell phone, all the while tapping away on the dial pad.

Gradually I think they started to realize that it was not really a cell phone but some kind of universal information transponding device. All my tapping away was producing translations, restaurant recommendations, addresses, plane bookings, free company cars, and fair price estimates, etc. In the West we still use our cell phones as if they are substitutes for the old technology, namely telephones. Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that cell phones are used differently here considering that land lines have a more recent history in this country (15 years ago they were a rarity). It's like they have leapfrogged over the telephone line here and into this world of hypernetworked pocket mini-computers.

People use many more multimedia options than we do. It's not uncommon for people in cafes to turn on their phone speakers and play their MP3s like a jukebox song after song (very annoying). Then there is text messaging (or "Tex Mex" as my Mom calls it). It seems like phones are only used a fraction of the time for making calls - the rest is all text. Last week in Apo, I noticed an entire line of guys texting up against the bar. Despite their poker faces I knew they were in fact gossiping about each other, finding out the scoop on other guys across the bar who are probably also texting. There have been a few times, I've asked an innocent question about someone. A few text messages later someone gives me the answer. It's almost creepy. On the other hand, I will admit to participating in the same e-grapevine.

On the more positive side, my phone is my lifeline. Today's visit to the hair salon was a perfect example. I usually go get my haircut with a friend who can translate so I don't end up having to sport the result of a misunderstanding for a month. Viet bailed on me today but I went anyway. First though I had asked Binh for his help. After confirming that in fact there was no English spoken at this place, I called Binh on my cell, told him what I wanted and then passed the phone to the woman running the place. After hanging up I realized I'd forgotten to work out the price. Hair salons are not the kind of place you normally bargain, but you are vulnerable anywhere you get a service without first clarifying the price. So just as the woman was starting to wet my hair, I asked. She pauses, looks a bit uneasy as she calculates what she thinks she can get away with, and answers VND60,000 (about CN$4-5). I nod. Well her hesitation is just a bit too obvious for me. Also she is talking to some colleague and I keep hearing numbers and prices as they look back and forth at me, so I figure they are debating the appropriate whitey mark-up. My rejoinder is to get out my cell and start messaging as she is massaging my scalp. I fire off a note to another friend Cuong who is a regular here. It takes a couple messages back and forth for him to determine it is only a VND40,000 job. When I'm done I approach the counter and give them the fair price. They readily agree. I imagine they know exactly what I was doing with my phone, and the jig is up.

I have heard the very act of texting has even saved some friends an exorbitant "fine" for a petty traffic infraction. The policeman changed his mind when he saw the flurry of texting. Who knows who has what connections, and which networks are being activated? In fact that time it was all a bluff.

No hard feelings in the case of the hair cut sting. It's all part of the game and keeps things interesting. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. Besides hair cuts here usually include a long hair wash, scalp massage and face wash. Not bad for a couple bucks. Never mind that the comb looks like it was made out of a chunk of scrap metal. It does the job.

Cell phones, Gyms & Dog Meat

I now have two Ha Noi weekends under my belt. It's hard to believe it's only been two. I feel like I've been here months now. Yesterday I took a motobike taxi (xe om) home from the outskirts of town where I played my first game of ultimate frisbee (a kind of frisbee football). It was a long and chaotic ride (the driver complained: xa qua, xa qua!) and lasted perhaps 20-25 minutes. I thought how much I have acclimatized, when I was hopping off the bike I realized that I spent the entire journey text messaging people on my phone with one hand while I hung on the back of the seat with the other. This is significant for at least three reasons: 1) I am no longer phased by the traffic; I was mostly oblivious to all the swerves and near-misses as I typed away; 2) I have at least a dozen friends and contacts in my cell phone already; and, 3) I have succumbed to the epidemic of texting that has swept Asia. This must be the most networked city on earth (or is it just Asia?). Everyone knows everyone, and once you have contacts in a few different groups, you are quickly known to entire networks. People don't seem to leave home without their cards which they hand out liberally. Ha Noi has been called a city of villages and perhaps that explains it. Everything is everyone's business.

Maybe because of this intense interconnectedness people aslo erect social partitions in order to try to protect their privacy. In a previous post I think I mentioned how the gay community is composed of groups. People are members of these groups and are identified as belonging to one. I haven't had much luck getting people to mix between them. It's paradoxical: people know everything about each other and yet pretend they've never met. I asked a group of Vietnamese guys what is the fascination with text messaging. They said it is popular for two reasons: it is cheaper than calling, but it is also a way to communicate without the risk of being overheard. It's a way of networking, but keeping silent at the same time. Maybe this is the consequence of living in a very densely populated society and one in which people live much more communally than we do in the West.

I'm realizing how taboo my blog is. Here I am publicly writing about people. If this blog were discovered by Ha Noi, I'm sure it would be social suicide. If I can find a way, I might make it accessible by invitation only (stay tuned).

Back to my weekend... Viet picked me up on Saturday morning and we spent the day riding around. Viet just treats me like one of the guys, and so I find myself with a guide of Vietnamese life. The great thing is that he doesn't even think about it. In fact, he often doesn't even tell me where we are going until we are there. So Saturday he took me to a Vietnamese gym out in the outskirts of Ha Noi.

I wasn't prepared for the sight, but it seems neither were the other guys prepared to see the likes of me. The gym was just one small room crammed with equipment and people working out. There were very few woman, and almost all the men work out topless. These guys were in very good shape. Let's just say it was distracting. I know I'm a curiosity as a white guy outside of the tourist areas, but generally people don't make much of a fuss (except perhaps little kids who gawk). In the gym though I seemed to have created a stir. The entire gym stared at me as I walked in and as I worked out.

After the gym, Viet's friends met us at a dog meat (thit cho)restaurant. Dog is generally only eaten in the second half of the lunar month when it is considered lucky. Eating it too early can bring bad luck. And it is mostly eaten by men, since it associated with virility. I would have been happy with just a taste, but dog meat is a multi-course meal. It is eaten with a mixture of fresh herbs, vermicelli noodles, and dipped in shrimp paste (mam tom). Frankly it wasn't my favourite. It was a bit gamey and grisley. Probably the lemongrass grilled pieces were the best. I wasn't that fond of the little sausages of dog intestine stuffed with some kind of nut. They tasted a bit like liver. Even though it wasn't my favourite meal so far, I must say though that it really was not a disturbing experience. It felt quite normal. Just not my favourite. The restaurant happened to have a little pet toy dog running around. It was definitely not the kind for eating (dog meat comes from a special breed which is farmed), but still I don't think it had any idea of the irony of its situation. I just hope it has been trained not to eat scraps off the ground.