Snake Village

My friends Mike and Buffalo Joe were determined to eat snake, and so was I. We wanted to see if the blood, actually had viagraic effects like the Lonely planet claimed. We asked our moped-taxi drivers from earlier to take us to this "Snake village", they were very willing to do so. It was raining in Hanoi, and the three drivers handed us ponchos. Although mine smelled distinctly of urine, I was just happy to be somewhat dry, and hey beggers can't be choosers. The journey took around 30 minutes by scooter. The roads seemed to have only one regulation, when someone beeps, get out of the way or die. We passed through the outskirts of town and crossed a bridge over a wide river. Where we ended up was definitely less seen by the tourist eye but had a magical feeling about it. We arrived at a restaurant that was completely open at the front with an upstairs balcony. The walls were adorned with vases, large and small, filled with cobras, geckos, and scorpions of all shapes and sizes. The owner immediately greeted us and showed us his missing finger, an apparent casualty of the profession of handling cobras. There were two cages along the wall filled with snakes, one for male and the other female. A man threw one on the cement in front of us and then proceeded to torment it until its neck flared out in discontent. We went upstairs and drank beer with our local tour guides while we waited. Two workers then brought a snake in front of us and cut it open, removing the still beating heart and draining the blood into a glass. The blood was poured into shot glasses and mixed with grain alcohol. As the heart pulsated on the plate before us, we cut it up and "shot" it with the blood/vodka. The combination of the vodka and fresh blood warmed the body and made us feel somewhat more manly. Who would believe us? Good thing we had video and pictures. Another shot was on its way, this time of vodka and bile, not delicious, but then again neither is tequila. For $40 american we received this and an eight course meal of snake. Each course was small, but different from the next. Our guides, and now friends, were celebrating a sucessful days work. As we chatted with them, they sold eachother out. One was smoking "rustic tobacco" and the other was clearly drunk. We talked about politics and Mohammed Ali, and then sung "Don't worry be Happy" together. Priceless