I'm shocked you're shocked

From my point of view, life as an expat has many advantages: fantastic travel opportunities, great career prospects, a nicer and more affordable standard of living than the U.K. offers, a diverse network of friends and colleagues – I could go on.  But for some, life as an expat holds far more cons than pros.  I’m referring again to my old friend culture shock (see ‘Culture shock’ post – Friday, 15 April 2011).  This year I haven’t experienced this at all, for me China provides enough familiarity, with an equal amount of quirky differences, for which I am appreciative.  For others, the balance just isn’t there and China seems so drastically different to ‘normality’ (whatever that may be), that Mr. C Shock comes knocking.

It’s nice to have a basis for comparison as an expat & EFL teacher.  My experiences in Vietnam have undoubtedly helped me to easily adjust to living and working in China.  As I’ve previously mentioned (see ‘Familiarity’ post – Wednesday, 21 March 2012), less travelled newcomers comment on daily challenges they find and differences they do not always appreciate about living in an Asian country.  A colleague recently mentioned they would take inspiration from me and the way I deal with situations I encounter in China, which was very humbling from someone for whom I have such great professional respect.  In short, we can all learn from one another and should strive to help each other with our demons.

These personal battles can build up inside people and should not be underestimated.  Seeing friends and co-workers seemingly ‘melt’ in front of your eyes isn’t a nice thing to experience.  Factors such as work demands, living situations, social experiences and friend/family matters back in their home countries can all tip people over the edge.

 

However, friends and colleagues who have previously lived in developing countries/second tier cities in China feel disbelief that anyone could ever find life in Shanghai a ‘culture shock’.  After my time in Vietnam I genuinely feel I could live anywhere: it’s the small things here that I appreciate so much, but without that basis for comparison others just can’t relate.

A xx

Tailor made

I’m not sure how this escaped the blog for so long, as I could easily have typed about this topic during my time in Vietnam, anyway we’re getting to it now.  Being tall and slim poses some problems, not least if you’re tall, slim and living in Asia.  Last year I could easily find tops, shorts and skirts to fit, but when it comes to leg length the Vietnamese aren’t exactly well known for being a nation with an abundance of folks with 34” inside leg measurements.  The solution was fast, easy and very cheap – go to a tailor.  Two pairs of trousers, made in five days, costing less than they would on the UK high street: genius.

Here in China, it’s much the same story.  I frequent H&M & Forever 21, but few stores stock longer leg lengths.  There’s one place that I can always rely upon – The South Bund Soft Spinning Fabric market.  Hop on a metro, enter the 3 story building and you will be overwhelmed by the number of stalls on offer.  Some specialise in leather jackets, others in suits or dresses.  I’ve been here on several occasions since my arrival and am always very pleased with their work.  Whether they are repairing a belt, lining a skirt or making something entirely from scratch they always deliver.  It’s very straightforward – first find someone whose level of English is good enough to communicate with!  Next, choose the style (or better still take something you want copied), and select the fabric, lining material, buttons etc.  Then comes the tape measure – taking and recording every possible necessary measurement in under a minute.  Hey presto, made to measure one of a kind trousers, skirts and coats for less than the price you’d pay on the high street.  Take that Savile Row!

Frequenting the fabric market also avoids having to adopt Chinese fashion trends, which look laughable on most westerners.  I mainly refer to the bubble jacket, something which I had not seen since in probably ten years, until I arrived in China.  The Chinese love these portable duvets and wear them all the time during winter months.

 

And it doesn’t stop there.  I find it very difficult to find shoes to fit here in China.  They generally stock the size smaller than mine, but few have anything that I like and find comfortable.  Ordering on Taobao (Chinese eBay) is possible, but can still be risky.  That is now a thing of the past, as I found someone who will make them for me.  Simply choose the style, leather and let them measure your tootsies.  Your one of a kind, super soft shoes are made in two days.

Yet more reasons why I love living in Asia.

A xx

Homeward bound

As my time in Vietnam comes to a close, I’m packing up my suitcase and heading home to catch up with family and friends before Christmas.  The past twelve months have been a great learning curve and I feel I now know far more about the TEFL industry, Vietnam and myself: having grown in more ways than I could ever have imagined before setting off on this journey.

A hot and humid, but amazingly diverse year with immense highs and lows, great food, awful chocolate, frustrating and amusing situations – in equal amounts, wonderful travel destinations and vast quantities of quirky moments: some of which I hope you have enjoyed sharing with me.

All in all it’s been a great way to temporarily satisfy my travel bug (which constantly works away in my brain space adding more ‘must see’ destinations to its list).  I’ve travelled to all the major destinations in ‘Nam as well as seeing some of Cambodia: as I’ve already said, somewhere I’d never envisaged visiting.

I wish I could thank all the people who have contributed to making the past year so unique, in ways they could never understand: from warm hearted strangers on the street to colleagues and close friends.  All of whom have contributed to restoring my faith in people.  The management at my school have been fantastic, the professional development opportunities far exceeded my expectations, and thanks for making me feel like The Queen of the Jumpies!

The smiles and laughs my students have given me were worth all the hours of planning and preparation (not to mention perspiration!) – I just hope they continue to learn from the foundation I have given them.  I am sad to leave, but keen to see old friends again and excited about the new ones I will make in the future.

What next year holds no one knows, but I can guarantee I will be back with yet more travel tales to raise a smile, and a few eyebrows.  Be sure to check in from time to time for more updates.  For now, it’s goodbye swimwear and sunglasses, hello socks and central heating!  What am I most worried about?  Reverse culture shock?  My extremities turning blue due to the UK winter and my poor circulation?  No – it’s suppressing the urge to walk between endless streams of traffic and having to learn my green cross code again! TBC…

Much love and thanks for reading.

TTFN!

A xx

Teachers’ Day

Dubbed as ‘awesome’ by one of our managers at a recent meeting, we’d heard lots about this day.  The 20th November every year marks teachers’ day in Vietnam.  A lot is made of this in Vietnamese schools, with students preparing to spoil their teachers with gifts and hold large assemblies to honour their educators.

With weekends being our busiest time it was convenient that this year Teachers’ Day fell on a Sunday.  Four classes later I came away with money, flowers, toiletries, a handbag, coffee and telescopic laser pointer pen: quite possibly the best teaching gadget ever.  I spent all day getting the attention of dawdling students by flashing the laser around and indicating to things on the whiteboard using the extending pointer: tons of fun.  Flowers were a popular gift all round, much to my male colleagues’ disgust!

A xx

Củ Chi: confined conditions

Having read quite a bit about the resourcefulness and sheer determination of the Vietnamese people during the American War, I felt it was only right I pay a visit to Củ Chi during my time in Saigon.  For the uneducated out there, these vast multi-level tunnel networks, covering more than 250km were home to thousands of Việt cộng soldiers.  They were also inhabited by such beasties as spiders, snakes and scorpions, and the lack of light and reduced air flow only added to the uncomfortable surroundings.

 

Bearing all this in mind, I jumped on a coach and prepared myself for some terrifying tunnel trauma.

Upon our arrival, our guide explained the complexities of building such tunnels, the three layer system, necessary air vents, exits to the Saigon river: it all seemed very well thought out and dare I say it, almost civilised.  After further explanations about the effects of agent orange and napalm bombs, we watched a video showing guerrillas preparing ‘uniforms’, making sandals from old car tyres and placing booby traps, in carefully chosen locations, on which to impale and injure the enemy.

Next, we were shown a narrow concealed entrance to a level 1 tunnel and were given the opportunity to enter.  Naturally, I fancied a go and jumped in like a rabbit down a warren.  Placing the cover over my head, it was difficult for others to see where I had gone.

Now you see me... 

...now you don't!!

After a comprehensive explanation of the various booby traps employed by the Việt cộng, we were taken to the tunnels.  The section of tunnel that is now open to the public has various ‘escape’ points.  Having heard the tunnel has been made larger to accommodate fuller framed Western visitors, I was pleasantly surprised walking down the steps… only to be met with a tiny tunnel ahead.  On my hands and knees I made my way through, almost immediately noticing the heat and lack of fresh air.  How people stayed below ground for so long eludes me.

 

I have often wondered what memories are concealed behind the tired, worn eyes of the older generation of Vietnamese people.  Each, no doubt, have their own harrowing memories of the war and all that it brought to this country.  After a short sample of those confined tunnel conditions I have a whole new level of respect for the people who fought for their country with such selflessness and unquestionable patriotism in frankly frightful conditions.

A xx

Learning right from wrong… and left

Last weekend a strange thing happened during my second class of the day.  One of my students, on task and thoroughly absorbed in her writing, sat scrawling using her left hand; something virtually unknown in these parts.  As children, ‘lefties’ are instructed to go against all natural instincts and use their ‘right’ (in both senses of the word) hand.

Rumour has it; parents take it in to their own hands to solve this problem until their children learn to use their ‘right’ hand.  I’ve witnessed my Jumpstart pupils picking up pencils, crayons and board markers with their dominant ‘wrong’ hand, only to correct themselves and struggle on with the other.

Western ‘lefty’ colleagues are ridiculed by all and sundry – be it the teaching assistants, students or laundry ladies as they write their name on receipts.  It’s something people openly guffaw at and see as circus-like.

Thank you to the parent’s of my ‘lefty’ student for restoring my faith in modern Vietnamese parenting: there is hope.

A xx

Cockadoodle-don’t you dare!

During one of my days off this week I was rudely awoken at 4:15am by the sound of a cockerel crowing.  This is nothing new here in ‘Nam, during my first week in the country my accommodation was arranged by the school.  Unfortunately, they opt to house all of their new teachers in a guesthouse on one of the busiest roads in the heart of backpackerland.  Not only do you have to deal with the noise from the traffic, drunken party revellers and locals shouting in the beautiful tonal language that is Vietnamese, but you may also find your neighbours own one of these god forsaken birds.  Cock fighting is common in these parts, so you can expect to see many cockerels strutting down alleyways, tethered by bailing twine or trapped inside wicker basket prisons on the pavement.

So, in the wee small hours, bearing all this in mind I very calmly surfaced from my bed, closed the bathroom window and door, managed to ram my ear plugs in to the appropriate orifices and placed my pillow over my head.  It seemed to do the job, until 6:00am, when the bird got a second wind and resumed crowing.

Now, I like my sleep and having already been disturbed two hours previously I was not to be messed with.  This time, I very calmly surfaced from my bed, opened the bathroom window and door, managed to ram the shower head out of the appropriate gap in the window and turned my shower on full.  It seemed to do the trick, the bird ceased squawking; however, the shrill, tonal shouting from one of my neighbours was something I hadn’t bargained on.  C’est la vie – I call it karma: you wake me up, I’ll wake you up a little more!

Surprisingly, the sound of silence resonated over night until I woke naturally the following morning at around 9:00am – bliss.

A xx

Happy Halloween

Yes, even here in ‘Nam there is no escape from the Pagan harvest festival.  Ok, so we know every man and his dog ‘celebrates’ Halloween as an excuse to dress up as a disembowelled zombie or the like, but it all seemed a little strange doing so here.

Jumpstart fancy dress competition

The school make a big thing of it, encouraging the Jumpstarts to attend lessons wearing fancy dress costumes, whilst Junior, Senior and Elite classes make posters, carve pumpkins and write poems respectively.  It’s a nice touch, but can go a little too far.  As part of the weekend’s celebrations we were instructed to take our Junior classes (6 – 10 year olds) to the Haunted Halloween House (a.k.a. two of our largest classrooms with an retractable adjoining wall, suitably decorated).

I have two Junior classes, one of which has a very small, timid, although extremely clever six year old student.  I have likened him to Rainman in the past and see big things ahead of him in the future; or I did before he was subjected to the Haunted Halloween House!

Upon entering the ‘house’ (armed with my camera to catch some magic moments), we watched a video showing scary screaming faces etc, after which one of the Teaching Assistants, who had donned a witch’s mask, black cape and green, warty monster hands burst through a black curtain, popped a balloon in my students’ faces and quickly fled.  You can imagine how much screaming and grabbing of random limbs took place on the part of my students.

Now, trying to get 18 young learners towards the looming darkness and fake cobwebs/plastic spiders hanging from the ceiling of the next section took some effort: from both myself and my teaching assistant.  I didn’t know I was capable of walking with 3 children pulling against each of my limbs, but we got there in the end after persuading them it may be scarier to turn back, than to carry on to the exit.

Having made our way past numerous office staff dressed as corpse brides, zombies etc we reached the final section.  When Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ started to play the kids seemed to calm a little, until the green lighting highlighted the outlines of an army of zombie corpses that were approaching!  By this point my students all recoiling to the corner of the room, trying to make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible.  Also by this point, I regained full control of my limbs and took the opportunity to capture this magic moment on my camera for posterity!  The lollipop rewards upon our exit made it all worthwhile and fifteen minutes later all was forgotten… until bed time no doubt!

  

The flash from my camera added a nice 'lightning' effect,

but sadly doesn't reflect the true ambience of the room! 

A xx

When two worlds collide

It’s always nice to be reminded of home… if sometimes a little strange.  Mr Amy’s visits have been most welcomed, but also a little surreal.  My life here is so vastly different from the UK and being reminded of those differences readies me a little for the reverse culture shock I’m mentally preparing myself for when I return to the UK in December.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by an old university friend.  He and his girlfriend (whom I also know from our student days) were travelling South East Asia before heading off to Australasia.  HCMC would form part of their route and they were keen to meet up.  Fantastic; some fresh, friendly and familiar faces to add to the mix.

 

A little surreal at first, some people you just associate with certain spaces.  In the dark recesses of my mind, these guys should be standing in our dimly lit student union bar on a Saturday night, with a pint of snakebite in hand, not using chopsticks and drinking Saigon green!  Nevertheless, awesome to catch up with them, reminisce about our tax dodging years and add a few new memories to the mix.

 

Happy travels you lucky pair, I’m not jealous at all!

A xx

Super-drugs!

Working in such a large school with so many children around, it’s no surprise that germs spread like wild fire.  Add to this the fact that Vietnamese adults also seem incapable of covering their mouths when they cough or sneeze and it’s little wonder that the teachers are constantly battling bugs.  Between the kids in the class with their 10 dinky digits thrust up their nostrils at every opportune moment (usually just before they try to hold you hand) and parents waiting outside in the corridors, you’d need a force field to fend off all the little nasties (germs that is, not children!)

 

Having suffered from a fair few bouts of the common cold upon my arrival here in November, my body seems to have accepted and dare I say it embraced the change in climate; high levels of polluted, humid air and basic hygiene standards that the city throws at you.  Between the street food and young learners my immune system should be impenetrable now: I’m convinced when I return to the UK I’ll be invincible!

 

Or so I thought… until last week.  The first sign came when a couple of my colleagues sat at their desks armed with enough tablets and potions to turn Merlin himself green with envy.  When this happens, you can be fairly sure the air conditioning (inadequate as it is at times) will work well enough to evenly distribute these germs all around the staff room.  And yes, there we have it – you have a small epidemic on your hands: literally!  If you happen to escape the germs, you’ll probably be asked to cover lessons for teachers who have called in sick, which then leads to exhaustion and subsequent sick days for yourself: it’s a catch 22.  Anyway, I digress: a sleepless night later, having woken up on the hour every hour and being seemingly incapable of inhaling through my nostrils, it was going to be a very long weekend.

 

Getting back to the title of this post; I’m not referring to the well known British health and beauty retailer, but the powerful substances available over the counter in all of ‘Nam’s chemists.  And so it was to be a shorter weekend than I had first thought.  After going to two different chemists (whose staff spoke adequate English), I walk away with some super strength stuff – which I first ‘Google’ before swallowing!

 

Not content with my own research skills, I hand the packet to a colleague in work the next day.  As far as prescription (and trippy) ‘medicines’ go, he knows more than most and is seen as something of a walking medical dictionary.  He confirms they’re safe to take and informs me I can also double up the dose or pick ’n’ mix with some other tablets a friend has kindly donated.  What the hell, it’s a weekend, I’m teaching for 8 hours today alone – let’s try a cocktail of them!  Teamed with a strong frappuccino, large mars bar for a hit of glucose and my herbal nasal inhaler the rest of the weekend flew by!

 

So what other delights can you buy over the counter here, I hear you ask.  The short answer – anything you have the nerve to ask for.  Valium is a common one: given out on an ‘ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies’ basis.  They want your money after all, not your life story.

 

A xx

Points mean prizes... and power!

School of a weekend is fairly manic.  With over 80 classrooms, 90 teachers, equal numbers of teaching assistants and approximately 18 students per class, it’s not the place to spend a relaxing weekend.  Hundreds of students and parents obstruct doors, corridors and try to set new world records for the number of Asian people you can fit in an ‘11 person’ passenger lift.

Vietnamese parents don’t seem to discipline their children for the small annoying things, such as running down corridors, blocking staircases and shouting incessantly; instead choosing to ignore them until such time as they escalate and the parents finally crack, dragging their children by any available limb and seemingly wanting to knock seven shades of s**t out of their little darlings.  Why not just nip it in the bud initially rather than letting it get out of hand?  Use some logic people! Give them an inch…

We are all encouraged to employ classroom management strategies with our classes.  These vary depending upon the age and ability of the group, but generally involve individual or team points and stickers/prizes.  Students are deterred from speaking languages other than English and are encouraged to work together, be patient, share and help one another.  Some would call it bribery: I call it ingenious!  Add to this the concept of ‘losing face’ (see Losing Face post Monday, 4 April 2011) and students are keen not to be seen in a negative light.  The power of the points system is a mighty thing.  It’s amazing what kids will refrain from doing when there’s a sticker at stake!  Without putting these simple measures in place your ‘controlled fun’ can soon resemble the London looters and you have some 6 year old rioters on your hands, minus the flat screen TVs.

I took over a class of 6-10 year olds a couple of weeks ago.  Their former teacher was a bit of a ‘wide boy’ and had a reputation amongst the staff as a jack the lad.  I can imagine it was quite a shock for the kids when in I walked armed with English speaking games and an actual lesson plan!  The troublesome twin boys I had been warned about have since been tamed and race to stand next to me during games.  My teaching assistant now loves the class, commenting on how much nicer they have been since I took over.

Take note ‘Nam – no need for Super Nanny here: just watch me in action!

A xx

Big game hunter

Ok, so the title of this post is a tad sarcastic and misleading, but I’m sure you’ve come to expect that from me by now.  It actually refers to the ‘gentleman’ I recently observed whilst I ate dinner at a local street food place.  Armed with a cane and a small box, he prowled the streets looking for… geckos!

Attached to the end of the cane there appeared to be a piece of cotton, which he placed in close proximity to the little fellas, shaking it and slowly luring the wee beasties toward him, lowering the cane as he went.  Smack! Rapidly lowering his hand over the helpless reptiles, he tosses them in his box and repeats the process until the alley is seemingly gecko free.  I can only imagine what he was going to do with them, you just never know in these parts.

Since then, I’m always happy and relieved to see Gecky (the house gecko who resides in my room).  Having never seen a bug in my room, I’m convinced it’s all because of him.  Long live Gecky, it’s a cruel world out there for little geckos!

A xx

“Freedommmmm!”

Today is the National Day of Vietnam, marking the day in 1945 when Uncle Ho officially declared independence from colonial France.  As you would expect, it’s an official holiday here and, as we learned at this week’s teachers’ meeting, the day when over 10,000 prisoners are freed as a part of the country’s annual amnesty.

 

The Communist big wigs here aren’t overly keen on public dissent; as such I will refrain from voicing my opinions about this matter, for fear of being thrown in with the remaining 99,000 prisoners.

 

We have all been told to be extra vigilant with our money and possessions, as petty street crime rises around this time each year (I can’t think why!)  Well good luck to them if they have the courage to seek out my money and mobile phone… from inside my bra!

 

A xx

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

Road kill

Saigon is well-known for many things: amongst them is the reputation the city has for traffic chaos.  Upon my arrival here it all seemed incomprehensible: scooters densely packed everywhere, driving on the pavement and generally dodging anything that dare stand between them and their destination.  This is certainly how it appeared to an old university friend, recently in the city, who wrote in his own blog "I've come to the conclusion that all Vietnamese people are either depressed or insane... because they drive like they don't want to live anymore".  Now in my ninth month in 'Nam - this all seems perfectly normal.  As a system it does work... most of the time.

The one thing you have to remember is to give way to anything bigger than you… unless you can dodge past it unscathed of course, in which case - just go for it!  I dodge bicycles and scooters on a daily basis.  Normally, they dodge me.  The sea of scooters doesn’t move particularly quickly so drivers can generally judge where in the road you will be by the time they reach you, and adjust their line accordingly.

 

Traffic here rarely stops, there are traffic lights - but these are seen by many as advisory, rather than compulsorily.  Green to amber generally means 'give it some gas and you'll pass the junction before the other street's light turns green - so give it a go!'  Another consideration when crossing the road is that there will always be someone turning right onto or from the lane you are attempting to cross.  Unlike most western countries there is not a specified time during which pedestrians can safely cross the road.  There are however, an abundance of zebra crossings.  I think there must have been an extreme excess of white paint knocking about that the government decided would be best used decorating the tarmac: for that is the only purpose it seems to serve.  One set of crossroads in the backpacker area has four of them – one at each junction!  Alas, they are ignored by pedestrians and drivers alike.

Traffic at a stand still - a rarity in these parts

It therefore seems quite ironic that days after reading an article in a Vietnamese newspaper, which bragged about the recent statistics showing a distinct decrease in fatalities since helmet wearing laws were introduced; two of my colleagues have separate bike accidents.  A combination of torrential rain, dense traffic, swerving taxis and erratic driving (by locals, not my colleagues I hasten to add) led to a whole host of bruises, cuts, scuffed elbows, a broken thumb and severed pinky finger.

After being directed to five different hospitals between them, both are doing ok and are nicely bandaged and dosed up to numb the pain and aid the healing process.  The metal pin and hook protruding from the pinky finger is enough to turn your stomach, but is luckily covered and out of sight of children in school.

It only takes one person to forget the ‘mirror, signal, manoeuvre’ drill and all hell breaks loose here.  There was little either of my colleagues could have done to avoid these situations – they were just cases of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Hearing the news, a friend of mine later told his own story of being cut up by a youth on a bicycle.  Travelling at a steady 20kph, my friend jumped off his scooter, pulling back on the handles and lifting up the front of it – in order to avoid squashing the cyclist.  The cyclist said a cheeky ‘sorry’ (in English no less) to my friend and the other traffic on the road managed to avoid them both: life carried on as normal.  It does make you wonder though.

The xe-om drivers outside my school are particularly erratic in their quest to deliver as many teachers as possible from work to their homes.  They have their regular customers and are on to a good thing.  Weather permitting I walk home, but on the odd occasion that I do require their services, I cling on to the back and turn a blind eye to the abundance of red lights they run.  One of them has a small piece of paper reading something along the lines of:

 

“ILA teachers give me more money”.

 

I’d heard about this clown from a friend and when I eventually had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting him and his note I laughed aloud, flung 15,000d in his hand and uttered something about knowing the going rate.  Cheeky sod: if you’re going to attempt to milk people dry – don’t be so blatant!

Anyway, the fact remains – now rainy season is upon us the roads are more dangerous than ever.  I like the fact that my xe-om driver Hom drives like a geriatric – I know I can always jump off if needs be and come away relatively unscathed. *She says, touching something wooden very quickly*

 

A xx