The Funky Monkey Adventure

I arrived to Vietnam late last night and my guesthouse was less than ideal. It was much farther from the town center than I'd been told and my shower floor was covered with muck. First thing this morning, I headed out to find a new place to stay. I had the guesthouse clerk mark its location on my map--I can show you the fat black dot he drew--and noted that the sign on the door said "Funky Monkey." I walked two blocks and hopped on a moto that took me to the city center in Hanoi and stopped in the poshest travel agency I could find. I found a fancy-shmancy new hotel for $10 more a night. So worth it!

The travel agency got me a cab, so I could grab my belonging from the guesthouse and relocate. I pulled out my map and showed the black dot to the cab driver. He spoke no English, I can mispronounce three Vietnamese words.

We arrived at the location of the black dot. This looked familiar...I walked here this morning...but the hotel was nowhere in site. It was right here, I swear! I grabbed a pen and wrote the words "funky monkey" for the driver and he phoned a friend. Soon we were halfway across town and in a neighborhood I didn't recognize. He stopped in front of a bar named, Funky Monkey. I couldn't explain to him that I wanted to go to a hotel, not bar. I pulled out my room key which did not have the guesthouse's address on it. Why didn't I grab a business card?! I had the taxi drop me off at the mysteriously vacant site where I thought my guesthouse was and I began hiking up and down streets. Oh, did I mention it was pouring rain? I was soaking wet, mud splattered up my calves, the ink from my guidebook map running down pages.

I had an idea. An Australian girl I met at the hotel this morning (who was arguing with the guy behind the counter for ripping her off) told me she was headed to Ho Chi Minh's grave today. I hopped on another moto and told him to head to the mausoleum. It was already closed for the day at noon. The Aussie was nowhere in site. I had been searching for my guesthouse for two hours.

I went around to all the cabs lined up and found one who spoke English well. I explained my predicament, totally embarrassed. He understands and I sit in the front seat and we comb the streets of Hanoi. I must have seen every street in the city! Finally, I was about to cry--and I rarely cry these days. He told me we should stop and have lunch. I realized I didn't eat dinner last night or breakfast this morning and agreed. At lunch, Mi'hal my driver (spelling botched, I sure, but I called him Michael mistakenly for the first hour) was on the phone the whole time. He put the phone down and asked me if I am married. YES. Soon, his friend arrived and they spoke Vietnamese for quite some time. The only words I understand are "funky monkey." Then they were both on the phone and finally the friend was smiling and then they were both smiling and then it was finally explained to me that they have a friend who owns seven hotels named "Funky Monkey." I get the lunch bill and we go to meet this friend.

He showed up half an hour later and I showed him my black dot. He told me that that location was closed three years ago and he can't help me. "You should go to the police station and see if they reported you missing." It was 3 PM and I knew this was futile. Again, we combed the streets and this time the friend was in the car as well. I know them all now, I will never be lost in Hanoi. Eventually, Mi'hal told me that it was time to go to the police station. I was so mortified that I would have to explain to the Vietnamese police that I don't know where my guesthouse is. I was convinced that is was a mirage.

A moto driver cut off the taxi and we swerved. The friend yelled, "funky monkey!!! FUNKY MONKEY!!!" What the hell? I looked up and sure enough, right before us was my guesthouse with "funky monkey" clearly written on the door. I screamed with delight. Its name is actually Garden of Eden. Do not stay there.

I ran up the three flights of stairs and threw everything in my bag in 30 seconds. I tossed ten US dollars on the counter along with the key and dumped my bag in the cab's trunk. On the way to my new hotel, I started giggling uncontrollably in the backseat. Soon Mi'hal and his friend were giggling with me and we had to pull over. I took pictures of us laughing. I look terrible in them. Mi'hal put and arm around my shoulder and said to me, "You know we are friends for life now?" We are all having dinner together later this week.

Think I earned some ditz points today, Mary? At least 1000, I'd say.