We did not go to Bien Hoa.  We contemplated just getting on the train in the morning and enjoying what the day brought us.  But honestly, we were kinda over the element of surprise.  So after water puppets and an incredibly tasty dinner at a ridiculously overpriced tourist village that night we checked online to see what wonders Bien Hoa would have to offer us.  This is what we found:

Bien Hoa is now an industrial center of southern Vietnam, and many factories and warehouses…… Construction has increased rapidly (with many Western-style houses and villas under development), and the real estate market has experienced a series of boom cycles since the mid-1990s……
During the Vietnam War the United States Air force operated Bien Hoa Air Base….

Factories, construction, abandoned airforce bases.  Pass.  I have never in my life possessed a desire to visit factories and warehouses on my vaction.  I have lived in Hong Kong for 10 months now, during which time there has been construction outside of my window every single morning for ten months.  And the national war museum was in Ho Chi Minh City - no need to travel to an abandoned air force base.  Pass.

So, we decided to just eat the $1.25 train ticket loss and make do with Ho Chi Minh.  We mapped out the next day with a couple of museum stops, a trip to the zoo, a visit to the Jade Pagoda - the pagoda to see when you’re pagoda-ed out according to our travel book - a Banh Xeo dinner and maybe even a trip to the spa!!  So, despite being sent to the wrong city, and buying train tickets to a dud of a city, we were determined to revive this trip and make it awesome.  Too bad Ho Chi Minh just doesn’t do awesome very well.  The museums were closed.  The zoo was so sad with is crazy and possibly blind elephants we couldn’t handle it.  And the Jade Pagoda wasn’t even a pagoda!!!!!  The Banh Xeo dinner was tasty, but overpriced and not as exciting as we were expecting (apparently, Vietnam stops serving dinner at 8pm.  Anyone after that just gets the leftovers.)  We did however make it to the spa, but only after searching without luck for nearly half an hour for a working ATM.  At the spa we submerged our travel weary bodies in the relaxing hot tub swirling in rose petals, relaxed in the eucalyptus-scented steam room, and enjoyed an hour and half full body massage.  Ahhhh - now that’s something I could get used to!! 

Our last evening was spent trying to find a chill bar or coffee house to hang out in, with hopes of some possible live music and interesting locals, of course, to no avail.  We tried three different places that were either closed or empty or playing Hootie and the Blowfish.  We finally asked our cab driver to take us to where he would hang out and he dropped us off at what we thought was a karaoke house.  Oh no.  It was a club.  Complete with DJ, strobbing lights, bad cognac, short dancing Canadian-Vietnamese men and gross wood-fish appetizers.  Thirty minutes later we made a mad-dash from the dance floor to the exit, throwing ourselves in a cab and decided to call the night a bust and just go home. 

As we packed up and left the next morning, I found myself only partially imitating Robin Williams when I said, without a tear, “Goooooodbye Vietnam!!”

Hong Kong has never looked so good!

The next day, Kate and I set out with a grand master plan.  Kate had been in Ho Chi Minh City a few months previous, and wasn’t very excited about being back.  I was still pretty ticked about being sent to the wrong city.  We were both looking forward to a calm, cool city with fascinating streets to wander down, peaceful beaches to check out, local food-stops to enjoy.  Ho Chi Minh has well, none of those things.  Its loud, a city with at least two motorbikes per capita.  The streets are covered in trash, and the city is stale with exhaust.  Nothing is easy to get to.  Besides, we wanted to be in Hanoi.  And when you want to be in one place, and are suddenly sent to another place, save Fiji, nothing is good enough.  As arrogant as that sounds.  (I’m really not that arrogant, I promise!) So, our grand master plan.  We were going to walk to the local train station, buy a day ticket to the closest cool location on the map (preferably some place with a beach) and enjoy the following day in some place other than Ho Chi Minh.  We chalked our first full day up to a loss, but had resigned to make up for it with lots of local fruits and a water puppet show that night.  Oh yes, I said water puppets.  So, grand master plan in place, we began the walk from the water puppet ticket purchasing window to the train station.  We walked.  And we walked.  And we walked.  The sun beat down on our white necks.  The exhaust filled our noses with black soot.  The motorbikes practically ran us down (on the sidewalk!!)  We had long passed the tasty little baguette stands (Vietnam was colonized by the French back in the day, and while pretty much everything else, save the architecture, has remained Asian, they have these delightful little sidewalk stands that sell baguettes with a tasty cheese spread and pickled veggies - so yummy!), the fruit vendors were no where to be found and our legs were turning to lead in the unbearable heat.  Two hours into our death march down the main drag, we plopped into what looked to be a cool and inviting coffee bar for a quick pick me up.  (Coffee is another thing that Vietnam has a strong handle on.  The rest of Asia is pretty fanatic about tea, but Vietnam has the kind of coffee you could eat.  Served with a “dollop” of condensed milk - don’t hate - its something to be craved.)  Having already 3 cups of coffee with breakfast, I decided to opt for a refreshing lemonade, while Kate gave into the coffee-craving.  Seeing as how we knew one word in Vietnamese between us and the waiter was worse off in the English department, we pointed to our drinks and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Then, two coffees arrived at our table.  I looked confused, motioned for a menu, and pointed the lemonade I had ordered. The waiter looked equally confused, but returned shortly with a lemonade of sorts.  The extra coffee remained on the table, and so I motioned the waiter over again, trying to insist through charades that he take the coffee with him, it wasn’t mine.  He seemed incredibly reluctant to do so, but eventually, the unwanted drink made its way back to its proper place, which wasn’t our table.  As Kate and I finally pulled ourselves together, properly refreshed and caffeinated, we asked for our bill.  The bill came.  One lemonade, two coffees.  After much commotion trying to figure out why they charged us for something I clearly did not order and even more clearly did not drink, we eventually put down money for what we did in fact order and consume and just left.  No one chased us down, so either it was okay or it could be possible I’m now a Vietnamese fugitive.  Which could be fun.

Onward with our not so grand but still master plan, we made it about another 100 yards before we saw the beautiful words printed so nicely on the road sign, “Brewery and Restaurant.”  We went in, and had a lovely meal of spring rolls and Chinese broccoli, some tasty and refreshing Chec beer (for which we were charged the exact right amount) and we left feeling a little better about ourselves and the world in general.  We decided to forgo the walking and flagged down of a couple of those menacing motorbikes to take us the rest of the way to the train station.  Wouldn’t you know it, three blocks later, the motorbike drivers snickered as they dropped us off and we paid them.  We went in with the excitement of the grand master plan renewed, a couple of locations already in mind, gathered from our handy travel book.  We waited our turn (which got skipped, twice!) and asked the sales lady how long a train ride to this beach was.  Ten hours.  Okay, how about that beach?  Seven hours.  Really?  Okay, well, how about this little town.  Four hours.  Kate and I had no desire to spend the majority of our day on a train, so we asked, “What’s within two hours of here.”  Bien Hoa.  Great, what’s in Bein Hoa?  Apparently, that question was beyond her English capabilities.  We figured anything, even Bien Hoa, must be better than Ho Chi Minh, so we bought our round trip tickets (US$1.25 a piece) and started to make our way back (via motorbikes of course - we had learned our lesson!) to the water puppet show.  We were excited at the thought of getting out of the city the next day and exploring our mystery Bien Hoa.  So excited that we didn’t even mind that, though the music was pretty cool, the water puppet show was kinda lame (who woulda thought? Large wooden puppets splashing around in a really decorated tub while dancing to strange music.  Seemed like a good idea.).  Bein Hoa.  Its gotta be cool, right?……

“Travel is not all romantic; in fact that’s fairly rare. Travel is hard and occasionally rewarding. It’s those rewarding occasions that make it romantic; it’s those hard days that teach things about yourself and the world.

A really hard day would have involved missing trains or botched reservations. It could have been much worse.”

Those are the opening and closing remarks of a wise man’s most recent account of his travel excursion around Europe - where there are peaceful sidewalks, friendly cabbies and scheduled destinations are actually reached.   Ahh, the good life.

Meanwhile, two young women found themselves patiently and excitedly waiting to get their boarding tickets in the Hong Kong airport when they first heard those three menacing words; “Ho Chi Minh?”  No, that’s not Chinese slang for some insult against travelers, rather, it was the first clue that maybe, just possibly, our travel agent had screwed up.  But, with only 40 minutes to literally run to our gate (which, by the way, was at the absolute furthermost possible gate from where we were) Kate and I decided to just figure it all out when we got there.  “Hey, its an adventure!  Let’s go!” we exclaimed as we raced down the airport corridors, knocking down the slow paced travelers and trying to avoid small children. 

Two hours later we land in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  I had spent my 1 hour and 25 minute plane ride in the very last seat next to Chatty Rodger the Oil Man, while Kate was stuck in the middle row, middle seat, where at least she caught a few Zzzs.  As we stepped out of the airport we were hit with the humidity like a brick in the face.  Even at night, the humidity wasn’t kidding around.  Neither were the hundreds of people lined up, or seated, right outside the doors, waiting for either their loved ones or the show to start, not really sure which.  While we were trying to figure out how to get to our hotel, which was at least in the same city as where we had been sent (our agent may be a screw up, but at least he’s consistent!), we had about 4 taxi drivers surround us, forcing their ID badges in our face to prove their legitimacy and bargain for fares.  We finally picked a driver and though we had agreed on 300 Dong, we got stopped at the outside gate where a women, I swear in retrospect she was probably our driver’s sister, wouldn’t let us through without paying another 100 Dong.   Great, 20 minutes in the (wrong) city and we were already being ripped off!!

We finally pulled up to our hotel, complete with a gold Christmas tree glittering in the lobby, checked in, flopped down, a little too hard, our of mightaswellhavebeenapieceofwood beds and tried to make a plan.  All of our excitement for Hanoi, the fantasy destination, had to be put on a back burner.  We only had 3 days in Vietnam, and we were determined to make the best of the batch of lemons we were given…..

I feel like I should write something while things are fresh on my mind.  But really, my mind is more mush than fresh.  I am just happy at the prospect of spending more than 12 hours at home for the first time in 3 weeks.  I’m glad to not be sharing a camp cabin bathroom with 15 other women, and I’m thankful that I’m no longer typhoon stranded on an island with 2 slot machines per capita, and thrilled that being sent to the wrong city in Vietnam is now a story to be told instead of reality. 

So, imperialism, family visits and stupid travel agents will have to wait.  For now, its bed time!

Day six of the conference marathon.  I’m averaging about 3-4 hours of sleep a night.  The days are so non-stop that I often forget to drink anything.  It has been raining without release, but it has done nothing to dampen the spirits of the conferencees.  (yes, I just made up a new word I’m pretty sure) 

The IMA was an amazing success.  Over 100 grassroots organizations were present, 35 countries represented, with 69 voting delegates and a 15 person executive committee formed.  The chairperson is a personal friend of mine, a colleague and only 6 months older than me.  She is 27 years old and the chairperson of the world’s first International Migrant’s Alliance!  What an honor for her and a blessing for the body she will serve in!  Congratulations to Eni! 

With the founding of a new Alliance, especially one as historical and ground-breaking as this one, there is much to do.  The Constitution has to be written, revised, rewritten, voted on, discussed, re-voted on and adopted.  There are are resolutions to accept, committees to elect, issues to establish.  It could have been easy to get lost in the details.  I won’t lie, there were times that it the afternoon teetered on oblivion in nuances, but someone always drew the group back in to what was important; the first ever alliance of migrants worldwide.  All the details, suggestions, revisions and votes, led to an Alliance grounded and bound by the need to assert their rights, fight imperialist regimes that keep their nations in poverty and force migration, and find strength in solidarity.  There were moments that I couldn’t keep from tearing up.  I was privy to witness something so amazing, so beautiful.  Strength, determination, loyalty, determination.  Hope in its rawest form. 

“For many years, many have spoken on our behalf.  This time, we will speak for ourselves.” ~Eni Lestari.  I’m glad I was hear to listen.

I’m here at the beautiful Wu Kwai Sha YMCA Youth Village - surrounded by the mountains and water.  Everything out here is green.  And wet.  Its raining again, of course.  But everyone is excited, and indescribably busy, preparing to kick off our first conference tomorrow, the IMA, to be followed on the 17th by ILPS.  I’ll try and update as I can.  Since I’ve already given a brief overview of what IMA will be, browse this link to learn a little more about ILPS until I can update again!

Have I mentioned that one of the things Hong Kong does really well is holidays?  There are 12 statutory or public holidays throughout the year, though there are something like 23 celebrated holidays. (In Hong Kong, celebrated holidays warrant fireworks, festivals and/or parades.) Today was the Tuen Ng Festival, also known as the Dragon Boat Festival.  Apparently they race some boats with dragons on them, some guy beats a drum, and everyone cheers for a boat.  Or something like that. 

I chose to forgo standing in the masses of people, and to sleep in today - a rarity for me that I always enjoy.  When I woke up this morning, er, afternoon, I was beyond surprised and excited to find that it was sunny!!  We are full force in the rainy season here.  Sunday was the first day it hadn’t rained in 17 days.  17 straight days of rain.  Ridiculous.  And even though it didn’t rain yesterday, it was overcast and threatening all day.  So to wake up to sunshine this morning was a complete thrill.

I called up my friends Kate and Joe and we planned to meet out in their area, out in the New Territories in Sai Kung, for a short hike and an afternoon at the beach.  The hike wasn’t to strenuous, just muddy.  There were some incredible views of Sai Kung Bay and the three of us couldn’t get over the fact that there was sun.  Butterflies galore joined us on the hike.  Kate informed us that butterflies only come out when the air is clear.  After 17 ridiculous days of rain, the air was certainly clear.  And warm.  We have been feeling the draining effects of humidity for months now, but today was among the first of many warm days.  It felt great to be out enjoying it all. 

When we finally crest the last hill and descended down towards the beach, we were met with the overwhelming smell of ketchup.  As we walked onto the beach we joined Filipina groups enjoying a rare day off in addition to their regular rest day, old men grilling chicken wings and burgers, children flapping their floatie clad arms in glee, and teenagers blaring their radios.  Hong Kong boasts an absurd number of men in speedos.  They really take away from the beach scenery.  Which, aside from the scantily clothed Asian men, is breath-taking.  A beach surrounded by green mountains.  Beautiful.  That is, until you step up to the water and see that it is yellow.  Junk boats roaring beyond the shark-safety net emit tons of exhaust directly into the water with every trip to and from the harbour carrying the beach passengers.  We chose not to swim, but did cool our feet off for a little while in the water.  Then we laid out our blankets and sarongs and enjoyed the wine, bread and cheeses Joe had packed away for our beach adventure.  Our little dixie cups dug snugly in the sand to keep from tipping, we each turned to our respective books; Linguistic history for Joe, Stephen King for Kate and Nature Conservation for me.  It was a wonderfully relaxing afternoon. 

Trying to beat the setting sun, we packed up our belongings and went back the way we came, finding ourselves in the town square of Sai Kung for a wonderful dinner.  Our salads were incredible and hit the spot; fresh cucumbers, avocado, tender chicken, egg, spinach leaves, cherry tomatoes (which I picked out and piled on Joe’s plate) and a tasty, but not too heavy, honey-mustard-balsamic dressing.  The water they served was among the best I’ve ever tasted, with hints of mint, lemon and strawberries.  So refreshing.  After dinner we walked along the harbour looking for ice cream, which ironically could only be found in the 7-11. 

I didn’t see any dragons.  Or hear any drums.  Or cheer for a boat.  But I am am definitely a big fan of the Tuen Ng Festival holiday!!

 <— Sai Kung Harbour view along the hike

 <—- Trio Beach (please notice the little girl along the shore really excited about something)

17.  As in, in the course of my lifetime, I’ve had 17 room/suite/housemates.  17.  On Saturday, the number changes to 18.  Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome contestant Number 18! 

We are receiving three new volunteers at the Shelter, all Indonesians, to help with translating and case loads.  We are SO incredibly excited to be receiving more help - it could not come at a better time.  One of the volunteers will only be staying a couple of months, but as far as I know, the other two will be here for awhile.  And one of them, Vonnie, is my new roommate.  While I am excited to have some company around, and happy to share what little (did I mention my entire flat is maybe 350 sqft?) space I have, it is certainly going to be an adjustment.  I have lived on my own for 9 months now.  Living alone as a new experience for me, and one that, quite frankly, I have enjoyed very much.  I love that I can practically live in my PJs, that I can sing along with my ipod while doing dishes and not worry about the number of times I hit my snooze button bothering the person in the next room over.  At the same time, there are days that its really lonely.  Days that I need to come home and have someone to decompress with.  So it will be really nice to have someone who knows my job and will understand what a bad day means.  Pros or Cons - she’ll be here Saturday. 

I’d like to think that I have a pretty good track record with my roommates.  I keep in somewhat regular contact with more than half of the group, and 4 of them are people that I consider among my absolute closest and dearest friends in the world.  So I’m not worried about getting along with someone new.  At the same time, I’m not expecting a new best friend. 

But let me just say, 2 people, 350 sqft, and a 4 minute hot water heater, just sounds like the makings of some comedy sitcom.

This month, Hong Kong will host two major Human Rights conferences.  Our offices have been crazy for months preparing to help host these two events - coordinating everything from housing, to speakers, to food, to visa issues and more.  The conferences will be held back to back, and it promises to be an exhausting week.  But there is also a buzz of excitment, particularly over the first event. 

The International Migrants Alliance (IMA) will be holding its Founding Assembly June 14-16.  This is the “First-ever global alliance of grassroots associations, organizations, unions, networks and alliances of migrant workers, immigrants, refugees and displaced peoples.” (quote from the IMA email list) It will be a time for all of these organizations to gather for the first time and present the issues that affect Migrants worldwide, and offer solutions of how to unify and stand up for their rights.  This has the makings of a historical event, and I couldn’t be more excited to be a part of it all!  (see the post below for the most recent press release regarding the IMA event) 

 

“Now we will speak for ourselves”
Grassroots migrants set to launch global formation in June

“For many years, many have spoken on our behalf. This time, we will speak for ourselves.”

This was declared by Eni Lestari, spokesperson of the Asian Migrants Coordinating Body (AMCB-HK) as migrant workers in Hong Kong and in other countries gear up for the founding assembly of the International Migrants Alliance or IMA on June 15 and 16 in Hong Kong. Lestari is one of the lead convener’s of the IMA representing the Association of Indonesian Migrant Workers (ATKI) in Hong Kong.

Already 121 individuals from 97 organizations and 24 countries have confirmed their participation in this historic event.

Other conveners of IMA include the Turkish group called ATIK-Europe; Migrante-Canada, Migrante-Europe; Migrante International in the Philippines; May 1st Coalition for Immigrant Rights-USA; PhillForum-USA; and TENAGANITA  Malaysia.

Lestari relayed that the presence of a vibrant movement of migrant workers in Hong Kong played part in the decision to hold the IMA assembly in the said territory.

“Successful campaigns were launched by migrant workers in Hong Kong and the migrant movement here is considered as one of the biggest and most active in the world. Hong Kong is one of the focal points when it comes to the gravity of the migrants’ situation and migrants’ resistance,” she added.

There are about 250,000 migrant workers in Hong Kong and almost 90% of them are women working as domestic workers.

The upcoming assembly will be hosted by migrant organizations under the Asian Migrants Coordinating Body (AMCB-HK) as well as some NGOs in Hong Kong including the Asia Pacific Mission for Migrants (APMM), the Mission for Migrant Workers or MFMW and the Bethune House Migrant Women’s Refuge (BHMWR).

Meanwhile, Teresa Gutierrez of the May 1st Coalition in the USA relayed that the IMA was conceptualized due to the perceived need of creating a formation in the world that can represent people living and working in countries other than their home ones and create a common platform for them.

“To date, there are around 200 million migrant workers present almost every country in the world. They came mostly from countries beset with economic and political problems and they work in countries that are relatively well-developed. Despite the different countries of origin or sectors where they can be found, the common concerns on their situation in the host countries as well as with issues related to why they are forced to migrate exist,” she added.

Sixty per cent of the world’s migrants are to be found in developed regions. Most of the world’s migrants reside in Europe (64 million), Asia (53 million) and Northern America (44 million). Almost one of every 10 persons living in the more developed regions is a migrant.

Connie Bragas-Regalado of Migrante International in the Philippines mentioned that among the topics up for discussion in the founding assembly include issues on wage, remittance, the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS) Mode 4, the war on terror and its impacts to migrant workers, on undocumented migrants, on women and violence, health and HIV/AIDS and other far-reaching social costs of forced migration.

Renowned advocate for the rights of migrants and Right Livelihood Award recipient Dr. Irene Fernandez shall keynote the event.

Regalado said that some of the upcoming programs of the IMA as soon as it is established is on the coming second Global Forum on Migration and Development to be hosted by the Philippine government in October as well as the advancement for the recognition of domestic work as work and thus entitled to the rights of workers indicated in various international conventions.

“The GFMD is a clear example of how governments talk about migrants and migration without taking into serious account the sentiments of the workers themselves,” she added.
 
Regalado reported that participating organizations in the IMA are also making preparations to confront the coming GFMD in Manila. She said that they will make sure that the GFMD in Manila shall not only hear those speaking for migrants but the sentiments of the migrants themselves.

“The time for the grassroots migrants, immigrants, refugees and other displaced people has arrived. The IMA shall make sure that their voices will never be discounted again,” Regalado concluded