You buy?

A friend's recent Facebook post posed the question: "Doo you liiiiie Veenameeeee cofeeeeee?" This is a fairly accurate representation of the average Vietnamese person's pronunciation of the English language.  You get the gist and politely answer in as slow and standard of a response as you can muster.

 

Whilst eating at my favourite vegetarian restaurant a couple of weeks ago, I was approached by a small boy carrying a tray of ‘goodies’, who uttered the words “You buy from me”.  It was unclear from his facial expression or intonation if this was a question or statement.  Not wanting to be rude, I replied “No, thank you” and looked back at my meal.  “Why you no buy from me?” he pressed on.  Oh, so now I have to justify my answer to a small Vietnamese child who I am 90% sure will not understand my response.  I decide to resort to ‘Vietnamese sign language’ I shake both of my hands, mimicking the ‘I don’t know’ gesture I see all too often.  Success – he leaves to pester another unsuspecting westerner.

 

On a day off, whilst taking a trip to the cash machine, a local cyclo driver in the backpacker area heckles at me “Ah, you!  Remember me?  You want ride?”  Who does this chancer think he is?  I don’t know him, never in the time I have been here have I used a cyclo and I definitely wouldn’t choose this joker if the mood did take me.  I politely utter a few words of my 'best’ Vietnamese, indicating I work at a local school – a polite way of saving face and making him feel like a fool in front of his friend.  Don’t mess with Lou Lou!

 

It’s surprising how much English some of the street kids know.  They walk around the backpacker area in all hours, selling anything from tissues, chewing gum and handmade jewellery to cigarettes and novelty lighters.  As they go, they pick up useful, commonly used phrases to aid their cause.  Super streetwise, or as Jack Sparrow would say ‘savvy’, they can spot a naïve backpacker at 20 yards.  Prodding expats’ breasts in search of hidden money and mobile phones, they perch on the laps of innocent drinkers outside bars and play ‘snake’ or whatever other games lurk inside the handheld devices.

 

I suppose they’re only doing what they know though, after all – if you don’t ask, you don’t get.  And the people of this country certainly didn't get where they are today by taking a back seat and waiting for others to help them.  Buddha loves a trier.

 

A xx

There are certain things you just come to accept…

1. I will never look attractive wearing a bike helmet.

2. I will never look attractive wearing my purple and pink plastic poncho.

3. I will never look less attractive than when wearing the bike helmet and

    plastic poncho ensemble.

4. I will never truly feel clean or attractive in a tropical country.

5. You will be heckled by every xe-om driver and his dog during dry weather when you

    want to walk, but there's just never anyone around when you need a ride in the rain.

6. One student in every class will always have a personal hygiene issue.

7. No matter how much you practice pronunciation of consonant clusters prior to an

    observation, your 5 year old students will still pronounce 'clock' as 'cock'.

And that's just how it is... but I'm fine with it! 

A xx

Rubbed up the right way

For the majority of folk in the Western world, spas are places you visit to use the gift voucher your second Aunt twice removed sent you in the post last Christmas.  Here, however, they work their way in to most expats’ routines.  The range of treatments available is like no other and from as little as £3 for an hour you can’t go too far wrong.

For anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of a massage in Asia, let me tell you they are a little different from those offered back home.  People here aren’t prudish or shy.  They have a job to do and are willing to put their hands on places some people don’t have places!  My male friends are always very careful about the establishments they choose, as ‘happy endings’ are often assumed to come as part of the ‘package’!

During my time here I’ve had Vietnamese women prod and push me in ways and places one would never think to prod and push!  Having a small lady walk on your buttocks, kneading them with her toes whilst steadying herself on a metal handrail suspended from the ceiling isn’t the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had, but I suppose extreme measures are required to sort out my tight ass!

Having tried a few different spas since my arrival in ‘Nam, I’ve recently stumbled upon one which is head and shoulders above its competitors.  After particularly busy days and recent high workloads with summer school, a friend and I decided to treat ourselves and arranged to meet for full body massages, followed by dinner.  We tootled in, stripped off and lay down on the beds (having remembered to wear our big Bridget Jones-esque granny pants especially for the occasion in order to maintain some modesty!)

Our hour long Thai style aromatherapy massage was amazing and ten minutes in and I’m already impressed by my masseuse’s skills.  Unlike the other masseuses in ‘Nam, she positions me in such a way to not aggravate my dodgy dislocation prone shoulders.  As for the Bridget Jones pants, forget the modesty – she pings those over my buttocks –thong stylie- and down a little to pay particular attention to my lower back and chubbier pair of cheeks.  It did nothing for me, but if she got a kick out of it – fair play!

 

Approximately thirty minutes in, whilst listening to an instrumental version of Lionel Richie’s ‘Hello’, I conclude – this woman will be coming home with me to work as my personal pain prodder.  Forty minutes in, she prods me harder, this time on my arm – I quickly realise she wants me to turn over: super relaxed I’d almost dozed off.  Walking like Mr Soft from the Trebor mint adverts, we float out of the spa; thoroughly satisfied and a mere £3 lighter.

Having previously referring to him (see Vienetta-namese: possible pronunciation problems post Friday, 1 April 2011) it seems only fair to give my friend massage man another mention.  A friendly 30-something from Hanoi, this guy cycles the streets of Saigon offering head, neck and shoulder massages for £1.50 a go.  He knows his stuff and has the ability to crack peoples’ ears: which sounds odd, but feels amazing.  Working in Saigon, he sends money back to his wife and children in Hanoi.  One of the more personable street sellers, he’s always a big hit with teachers frequenting road side bars.

Having taught 34 hours of classes over the past 8 consecutive days (which might I add is a crazy amount in TEFL terms), I’ve treated myself to a facial and hot stone massage on my day off.  In fact, this post is scheduled to appear while I’m in the spa – as I know full well I’ll be far too relaxed and sleepy to even think about logging on later this evening!

Ahhh, this is the life.

A xx