Flying monkeys, kazoos and the Obama Combo

Yes! I was there, right at the very restaurant where POTUS ate!

Listen, Wilson,
Here are the ground rules, For the security of the nation, I can't tell you where the president's favorite eatery is in Hanoi.

I mean, look at this photo, above. This is Hanoi. Do you really believe he had that much elbow room at lunch? Any fool can see the photo was posed. Three people on little stools are usually squeezed into the space he's hogging. And where are the guys in dark suits (and sweating profusely from the humidity) with wires coming out of their ears? Not to mention the tasters. Isn't someone required to taste the peppers before the president pops one in his mouth? Those things are HOT!  This was a major security breach. I'm not going to add to it by divulging the location.

 But I was there. With Scarlett.

Scarlett is in marketing, and was part of the contingent that made it possible to deliver medical services and One World futbols to two villages in the Mai Chau district in Hoa Binh Province, Vietnam. Now, of course, Scarlett isn't her birth name--she's Vietnamese. But as a young girl, she read Gone With the Wind, and she realized that she had the temperment of Scarlett O'Hara, so she chose that as her business name, which is a lot easier for me to pronounce.

And Scarlett is a force to be reckoned with. She's the one who initiated me into the Flying Monkeys--that's what I call the people piloting motor scooters and motorcycles down the avenues, narrow streets, alleys, sidewalks and--occasionally--dining areas of Hanoi. They remind me if the critters hunting for Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.

Dorothy and Tinny spy the flying monkeys.

Before I flew home -- which takes place in just a few hours, Scarlett and I were going to get together to talk about writing. So she showed up at the May de Ville Legend at noon with a surprise -- Scarlett is a housewife, mother, marketing specialist, and a biker, and here's your helmet, thank you very much, because YOU are going with ME to see  where POTUS ate!

I hadn't been on a motorcycle for 45 years. I rode in back, in the biker position by a name I won't use here, trying to figure out how to hold on. The Meerkat? (Hands on shoulders,) The teapot? (One hand on shoulder, the other on waist). The rodeo? (With one hand, scrunch the driver's shirt like a cowboy holding onto a rope, while waving the other in the air). Siamese twins? (Back to back, with me glaring at the tailgaters). I chose to face forward, gripping the luggage rack I was sitting on and making a point of not making eye contact in the mirror, a definite no-no.

Scarlett fuels up. Check out the outfits of the other biker and the fuel attendant.

There are three reasons motorcycles are so common in Hanoi, according to a guide: The narrow streets, the price of cars, and taxes. It is economics that places everyone -- men, women, even entire families in the legion of Hanoi's asphalt matadors. And they are very adroit. It was actually a surprisingly placid ride in the torrent of weaving bikers and looming buses.

A meal fit for POTUS--and named for him!

At the restaurant, I chose the Obama Combo, pictured above. The Hanoi beer was OK, but nothing like Seattle's varied brews. Just an ordinary, boring Pilsner -- but drinkable, and very handy when I made the mistake of adding one of those tiny peppers to my meal.

Not pictured: the fried seafood roll, which hadn't arrived before I shot the photo.

Afterward, back at the Legend, I did something I had wanted to do for the three weeks I have been in Hanoi: Jean Baptiste and I hadn't just brought One World Futbols for kids, and LED lanterns for host families; we also brought two dozen kazoos, but events and time crunches had intervened, and we never presented them to our Vietnamese colleagues. This was my last chance. I gave them to Scarlett to share with colleagues and family, and offered her one to try out.

Deptive in its simplicity, the kazoo has only one moving part--your vocal cord. (Tongues optional)

Now the kazoo is a musical instrument sophisticated in its simplicity. There is the blowificator, where you place your lips, the musicator, where the tune emerges, and the buzzifier on top, which yields the kazoo's unique tonal qualities. There are also the control surfaces between the buzzifier and the musicator, where you spontificate the sounds for melodious effect by pressing down or fluttering with your fingers. I explained all this to Scarlett.

But blow as she might, no music came out. I checked the instrument, sighting through the innards from the blowificator to the musicator, and there were no obstructions, I also checked the buzzifier, which was intact and in good working order.

She tried again. Huff. Puff. Nada! Nothing. Zip. Zilch.

I pulled out the heavy gun--my very own, customized kazoo, pictured above, vigoriously playing several bars of Chatanooga Choo Choo. The demonstration was insufficient. Scarlett's built-in hummifier just wasn't working.

After she drove off with two dozen kazoos and disappointment, along with a mild determination to acquire the skill, I sent her an e-mail that included tutorial links, such as this one below by Joe Penna, a master kazooaphile. (Please click in the image for an inspiring demo featuring the William Tell Overture.) (If that dog don't hunt, just click on the highlighted words.)

Our Vietnamese colleagues and guide are especially encouraged to learn the fundamentals of the kazoo. (There just might be a test during the next Global Impact mission.)

At this writing I've received an e-mail that Scarlett is finally getting the hang of it and that the kids love the kazoo.

Well, if I've learned anything from this experience, it's that I may be the first person to bring Kazoos to Vietnam. I could do worse. Next time I visit, I won't be surprised to find this magnificent American  musical instrument in Hanoi's local Made in Vietnam outlet stores.

Love,
Robert, and Jean Baptiste