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

Sweltering in a swamp!

Vietnamese school holidays can mean only one thing – summer school strikes again!  This time last year I was newly qualified and teaching at a summer school in Shropshire, UK as a residential teacher and activity leader: twelve months on, it’s summer school again, this time on top of my regular teaching schedule here in the city.  It’s an intense course, consisting of five three-hour classes each week over two months, which leaves little time for the students to forget what they have learnt during the previous lesson, but can also leave weaker members frustrated and dumbfounded at the pace of teaching!  My students are a good bunch of vivacious teens who are far more willing and capable than my regular class of the same ability.

We’re now nearing the end of the course and it’s been a busy couple of months (which accounts for the lack of blog posts lately).  As well as their lessons, students participate in movie days and a 'summer getaway': a day at a ‘craft village’ in Cu Chi (home of the famous tunnels).  This trip was by no means compulsory for teachers, but I figured it would be good fun, a chance to spend some time with members of staff I don’t see that often and could only be good for class morale.  The 6.30am start was a slight deterrent, but the offer of free breakfast, lunch and company branded summer school t-shirt and cap swung it for me! *cough*

Tootling down the road towards head office on the day of the trip, I was met by hundreds of students and a cacophony of Vietnamese voices: in situations such as this your iPod is your best friend!  So, all present and correct - donning our company clothing, we were on our way.  All students and teaching assistants appeared to have ID badges – I guessed my face and complexion alone were enough to indicate I was in the ‘right’ place.  The two hour bus journey was relatively painless and I made a new friend, in the form of Khang, a 12 year old beginner who had only been studying at the school for three days.  I only wish his enthusiasm to learn and interact with native English speakers was infectious.

Upon our arrival, we stepped off the coaches only to be hit by the horrendous heat and humidity.  It’s hot in the city most days, but this was something else.  Crossing swamps on flimsy foot bridges and arriving in a large opening, we found the pottery classes had been cancelled and we were now spending all of our time outside, with little shade or seating.  The students (accompanied by their teacher and teaching assistant) were to complete the challenges, obstacle courses and traditional Vietnamese games all in the baking heat.  Needless to say, this was not what I had signed up for – as a Guider I’m all for team building and problem solving; just not in such a harsh, unforgiving climate with more than 200 pupils ranging from ages 6 to 16.

After a few hours of trying Vietnamese style Girlguiding activities, which included separating different coloured pulses and seeds into containers, throwing a ball through a high hoop (Quidditch style) and hitting a drum whilst blindfolded; we retreated to the relatively ‘cool’ canopied eating area for a basic meal of soup, boiled rice, nondescript unidentifiable meat, soggy veggies, iced green tea and ice cream – pretty standard as far as catered lunches go here.  Feeling distinctly wobbly I slept for the majority of the bus ride home and drank my body weight in water.

The heat stroke I suffered meant I was unable to teach my class of teenagers that same evening: all that only to be credited with an extra 60 minutes in my ‘bank of hours’: not the best day.  The kids, however, seemed to love it – which is the main thing after all.  One more week of summer school to go, then I’ll have my mornings back and can spend them catching up on some much needed time in the land of nod.

 

A xx

Health & safety - sparks do fly

Working in a purpose built school means 99% of things are well constructed and in fully functioning order.  However, step outside and it’s amazing how many corners are cut to save time and money.  The Vietnamese have a very make do and mend attitude – a thrifty nation who will reuse and recycle anything they can to save a dong or two thousand.  A former colleague and ISO 9001 aficionado would have a field day here, on his own personal mission to ensure all things health and safety are brought to the masses.

 

A couple of weeks ago, whilst waiting at my favourite frappuccino stall for a hit of caffeine creaminess, I watched open-mouthed as a young lad was lowered down a four storey building on a very basic harness, with only a pot of paint and roller for company.  Barefooted, he slowly worked his way down the face of the building coating it in a rather garish shade of what I imagine is branded as ‘Google l green’.  His friend stood precariously on the flat roof of the building, clutching the end of the ‘piece of string’ from which our painter was suspended.  Before I knew it my frozen frap was ready and I wandered back to school, giving the building a wide berth, wondering what would happen when he neared the base (which housed a canopy and fruit stall beneath).  There don’t appear to be any green footprints visible, so I assume he was lowered to the road successfully, rather than doing a Spiderman impersonation back to the roof.  To all those who thought I was crackers for sky diving and bungy jumping take note: this is far more dangerous.

 

On the same street, whilst waiting for a chicken kebab (a favourite lunch time nibble for our teachers) I saw Vietnam’s answer to BT: three men who looked like they were competing in a tug of war competition as they pulled with all their might on a power cable.  Their colleague meanwhile was perched across the road on a bamboo ladder which leant precariously against a telegraph wire.  From here he cut one of the fifty or so wires that were wound round the pole.  Any Guider would have been shocked by the disorganisation and distinct lack of square lashing!  I had visions of it all going terribly wrong, the three men falling in to the middle of the road as the tension on the wire vanished and an angry local running out of their flat shouting something about their electricity not working!  Alas, this didn’t happen – somehow it all seemed to go smoothly.

 

Loosely translated: High voltage lethal

  

As you know (from ‘random observations’ post - Thursday, 31st March 2011) pavements here can resemble obstacle courses.  Amongst the usual things you find on them (scooters, street sellers etc) you occasionally stumble (quite literally) upon others that really ought to be elsewhere.  People repairing scooters, cutting fruit with their machetes, and using highly toxic spray paints (without any safety equipment of course) are a few that spring to mind.  Granted, the instructions may say ‘use in a ventilated area’, but I don’t think they quite meant the middle of Tran Hung Dao Street!  Laying concrete bare-footed is also common place here – madness!    Using an umbrella can be an interesting experience as bare wires hang at head height and create some impressive sparks when the rain comes.

 

During our time in Hanoi, Mr Amy and I found ourselves frequently crossing the train lines that divide the city.  Cutting across the middle of Dien Bien Phu, pedestrians and traffic alike merrily go on their way, tootling across the tracks.  Don’t get me wrong, the usual level crossing signs and gates do exist (even if they are a little flimsy), but we never did see anyone working there.  Some locals live only a few metres from the tracks, hanging their laundry up and washing their dishes as trains speed by.

  Property available - close to local amenities and public transport!

 

Vietnamese law states that all drivers and passengers must wear bike helmets whilst travelling on the roads.  This does however seem to be open to interpretation.  Bicycle helmets, made of foam and covered in plastic appear to be sufficient, rather than the type we in the west wear on motorcycles.  I myself am the proud(!) owner of one very attractive, company branded ‘bicycle helmet’ and feel it would offer little or no protection in the event of me going arse-over-tit off a xe-om.  Wearing flip flops, shorts and a vest top whilst riding also provides far from adequate protection in a crash, but this climate doesn’t exactly lend itself to wearing leathers.

 

So, we all have to wear helmets, but are there any rules about carrying things on scooters?  It would appear not.  Here is a short list of some things I can recall seeing on a single scooter:

 

A family of five,

Three computer hard drives,

Twelve crates of beer,

Eight large sacks of rice,

A three-foot tall flower arrangement (being held by the driver who couldn’t view anything to the left of him as a result)

Four two-foot blocks of ice,

Approx twenty trays of quails eggs,

Approx forty bags of live fish,

A fridge (yes, really – on my first day too!)

And a hands free kit consists of wedging your mobile phone between your ear and bike helmet chin strap!

I’m sure I could write about countless more safety scenarios, but after a while they become the norm, and as such, far less memorable.

A xx

Food thoughts

I find it totally baffling that I have yet to write about this, one of my favourite topics.  For a skinny lass I can eat.  Anyone who knows me is amazed by my miraculous metabolism and the sheer volume of food I can pack away - particularly when it comes to anything covered in chocolate, caramel or ice cream (don’t bother with the crude comments – I’ll have thought of them all long before you can type them)!  Upon my arrival in Saigon I went out for a curry with a group of fellow new recruits, after ordering a portion of rice and garlic naan with my meal I was told, in no uncertain terms, by a rather cocky young lad that I obviously had eyes bigger than my belly and would definitely not be able to consume the entire lot.  My answer was simple: watch and learn.  Needless to say – the only thing he was eating were his words!

Saigon is full to bursting with food floggers: from street sellers to top notch restaurants and everything in between.  You would be hard pushed to starve here – even the pickiest of eaters seem to find somewhere that caters for their needs and budget.  From fried noodles or crepes at 60p a go, or high end French cuisine at western prices, it all hits the spot.

Smiling Saigonese street sellers

Having briefly mentioned (see ‘Vietnetta-namese: possible pronunciation problems’ post – Friday, 1 April 2011) noodle man, wonton woman, smoothie man, cake man and squid man, I now find myself on first name terms with smoothie man – Hoa, and his wife Thuy.  Conveniently located less than a minute’s walk from my front door, I visit them about four times a week.  They make THE best smoothies I have ever tasted.  What is their secret?  Is it the fresh produce bought that morning from the local market?  Put bluntly, no!  Although the fruit here is fresher and juicier than any other their secret is the condensed milk that goes in to their drinks.  It’s like catnip – people just can’t get enough of this sweet treat.

As well as every conceivable type of fruit (and vegetable) smoothie, Hoa and Thuy have recently branched out, making fresh ham and cheese crepes, complete with lashings of chilli sauce: the French colonial influence meets Asia head on.  Along with the usual free offering of trà đá (iced jasmine tea) the pair often offer up other freebies to look after one of their most valued customers.  Last week, upon finishing my crepe, a plate of fruit appeared, not being the font of knowledge when it comes to tropical fruit, I had no idea what they were.  Resembling small, hairy new potatoes I was a little apprehensive, but curious to try them.  Hoa’s English is reasonably good, but he only knew their Vietnamese name: bon bon (thanks to trusty Google for helping me find the English term: langsat).  These little fruits have a grapefruit flavour without the tartness and made a refreshing and healthy dessert.  Thanks to the mother of my ‘most improved’ Jumpstart pupil for bringing me a gift of more bon bons last weekend.  A very thoughtful and well received gesture.  I think they all feel the need to feed me up!

I now find myself eating vast quantities of unidentifiable foods or things I could previously barely tolerate.  A prime example of this is fish sauce.  Pungent and prevalent in nearly all dishes here, it’s hard to avoid.  When served as a side to main meals when I first arrived here I would leave well alone, but over time it’s grown to be an integral part of many meals and I have been known to return to my local street sellers to request a bag of the stuff when they’ve forgotten to add it to my order.

BBQ pork, spring rolls, mince, noodles, veg & fish sauce

Chilli is another food I could not previously tolerate as well as I can now.  I have never been a fan of bland food.  I like big, bold, punchy flavours with a bit of kick - the more garlic, ginger or lemongrass in my food the better.  But chilli, no no no – this was something to steer well clear of, unless it came in the form of the very moreish Blue Dragon sweet chilli sauce.  Inevitably in Asia, it’s hard to avoid the real deal.  Soy sauce is often served in small dishes to accompany boiled rice.  Floating within it come slices of red chilli, seeds and all to add an extra kick.  Chilli slices, chilli seeds in oil and the not so traditional MSG-filled squeezy chilli sauces all adorn the tables of street cafes: and I love it! 

Pull up a plastic pew - street food is best

MSG – now here’s the thing.  Monosodium glutamate: in the western world we are used to this being added to takeaways as a ‘flavour enhancer’.  As additives go, this is the big boy in these parts and I was most astonished to find an entire aisle dedicated to bags of it in the expat supermarket Lottemart.  Many street sellers actively encourage you to add the contents of their ‘salt cellar’ to your food.  At this point, and not being one to add salt to food anyway, my enlarged sceptic gland kicks in once again – it may look like salt, but you can bet your bottom dollar it isn’t mere NaCl.  My tolerance to it, or skill at avoiding it, appears to be quite good.  As far as I know I have had no ill effects from ingesting it, but you never quite know what you’re eating here, which just adds to fun.

Sometimes, you think you know exactly what you’re ordering, but second guess yourself when the flavours merge in your mouth. Tofu – not something I’d ever tasted before arriving in ‘Nam.  Having been raised on every conceivable type of game meat, tofu was far from a staple part of my childhood diet.  However, the vegetarian cuisine here is actually very good and I’ll head down to one of my two favourite veggie restaurants when I need a hit of chlorophyll cuisine.  Most of these places offer ‘fake meat’ versions of popular dishes, which are so good you often doubt it is ‘fake’.  Tofu, marinated in fish sauce and wrapped in seaweed is a very convincing alternative to sardines, with the texture of the tofu even flaking apart like the real deal.

So as far as savoury stuff goes I’m living like a king.  There’s just one problem – the chocolate and cakes here are, on the whole, terrible!  As a self confessed chocoholic with a chronic sweet tooth, I would like to personally praise Mars for being the only manufacturers to supply a chocolate bar tasting something like its English equivalent.  The dangerous discovery of caramel and coffee cheesecakes at Highlands Coffee (VN’s version of Starbucks) is also most welcomed after 6 months of unsatisfactory sweet stuff.  On the plus side, the local coffee stall near work makes amazing caramel coffee frappuccinos at 65p each – so it’s not all bad.

A dangerous discovery

Enough talk, more action – time for dinner now, hmmm what to have tonight?!

A xx

Poncho power!

Yes, the inevitable has happened – rainy season is upon us: short, torrential downpours during afternoons or evenings, varying in frequency.  It’s quite refreshing at times and can take the edge off the heat: on the flip side it can also be a pain in the posterior. Saigon seemingly transforms in to something of a running sewer over these months.  This time of year also adds to the joy of teaching young learners, as they come in to school smelling of wet dog.  You know the scent.  Each child brings with them their own unique variety of little wet dog smell – which all combine, with the help of the air conditioning, leading to a gut wrenching stench upon entering class – not good.

Scenes on the roads here are astonishing enough at the best of times, but a sudden downpour causes literally every scooter on the road to pull over, drivers and passengers alike hopping off to don their plastic ponchos: this season’s fashion must have.  Some poncho-less passengers even resort to crouching underneath the back of their driver’s rainwear and spend the journey viewing little more than their chauffer’s butt crack!  Those who prefer to view the back of their driver’s crash helmet (as is the norm) opt for a double head-hole poncho. Practical, until one or both of you want to get off the scooter!  Having shared a poncho with a friend whilst leaving a music festival in the UK a few years ago, I can vouch for the fact that this is less than ideal, especially if the two of you vary in height!  It still makes me laugh to think of the confusion and distress we caused to drunken/high passersby at 5am who must have thought they were hallucinating – seeing a two headed, four legged woman walking towards them!  Anyway, I digress…

Ponchos do not only cover people, hell no – they are also used to keep bikes dry - whilst riding: draped over the front of the scooter to prevent the driver from getting wet hands, this method also serves to illuminate the streets with a cacophony of colours. Some ponchos avoid this and have specifically designed clear plastic sections where the front headlight should be, most however do not, so you see all sorts of strangely coloured lights moving along at night.  I have yet to see a person on foot wearing one of these strategically placed clear plastic parts, but fear I may give them a double take as it would no doubt inappropriately draw attention to their crotchal region: Vietnam’s answer to the rainy season flasher’s mac!

A double head-hole poncho covering hands, headlight and mirrors

I sometimes think a dry suit would have been a better purchase than jelly shoes & my beautiful purple and pink plastic poncho (pictured below).  Don’t think I need a snorkel quite yet though – most vertically challenged locals don’t seem to suffer from sludge on the lungs!  It’s still a damn sight better than the climate in the UK though so I can’t complain too much!

A xx

Miss you a lot, miss you not…

After more than 6 months of life in Vietnam there are certain things you come to miss about home, as well as some you can definitely do without. A few are listed below:

Miss you a lot…

My family & friends,

Fresh air,

Cooking,

Rosé wine,

‘English’ Chinese food,

Good quality chocolate,

Krispy Kreme doughnuts,

Shoe shops that stock my size,

Open spaces containing nothing but greenery,
Being easily understood when I want something,

Being able to use a handbag without fear of having it snatched,

The convenience of paying by debit card - its cash only over here.

Miss you not…

Overpriced everything,

Dull, grey, cold weather,

Lack of daylight hours,

Boring 9-5 office jobs,

Pointless party political preaching,

Coins – nothing but notes in 'Nam (waterproof, rip-proof polymer ones at that),
Cutlery - chopsticks are the way forward,

Hearing stranger’s mind-numbing conversations in public places – when they’re uttered in a language you can’t understand, who cares what they’re waffling on about!

A xx