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

Quite a reception

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending my first Chinese wedding reception.  An excellent opportunity to experience a traditional celebration and a fabulous excuse to dress up, I had been looking forward to this for quite some time. 

 

Walking into the grand room I first noticed the marble and mirrored pillars, then the chandeliers, dark drapes and marble stage.  Next I see the happy couple, waiting to greet me.  The bride wore a traditional red silk Chinese dress, with matching flat shoes; the groom - a burgundy collarless suit.

 

Upon arrival you are requested to have your photos and video taken with the bride & groom, then just with the groom, then lovingly embracing the bride, then holding the gift of a hóngbāo (red envelope) that is traditionally given at such events.  Your next task is to sign the wedding book, which got the attention of numerous onlookers as they watched me write, obviously in English using Roman alphabet.  Being led to my seat, to my surprise I found I was seated on the Chinese equivalent of the ‘top table’.  In China, this is not reserved for the bride & groom’s family, but for them to share with their closest friends: a wonderful surprise and great honour.

 

The MC announces the happy couple and they come walking down a red aisle, to a stage draped in red organza and decorated with the Chinese sign for ‘happiness’.  The bride, wearing an ornate veil over her head and face, approaches with her groom in hand, while the happy couple’s parents sit on either side of the stage to greet them.  After lots of speeches and incomprehensible Chinese chit chat, the groom lifts the bride’s veil, using something similar to a chunky chopstick, revealing her beaming smile, and all applaud.  The couple then present their parents with drinks, before themselves drinking wine from glasses whose stems are tied together by a single red ribbon.  They do this while linking arms, which strangely reminded me of many an alcohol fuelled night, drinking shots of sambuca with friends in a similar manner!  Food follows – and lots of it - fabulous food of all kinds. My favourite dishes were the duck pancakes, sweet and sour fish & the lobster. 

 

Entertainment came in the form of paper plane throwing competitions, and the children in attendance were then given balloons, stuffed and/or inflatable animal toys.  Then came the bouquet toss. Being announced in Chinese I naturally had no idea what was going to happen, until the groom’s mother took me by the hand and led me on to the stage, to join a relatively small group of unmarried girls… and guys.  Yes, it’s all about equal opportunities here in China – men too can catch the bouquet!  Needless to say, my arms stayed firmly welded to my sides as the red organza bouquet was flung through the air by the bride & groom.  For the record an overweight Chinese guy dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sporting a ponytail caught it.

 

The lighting of the cigarettes was next on the agenda – I kid you not.  The bride and groom, armed with enough packets of matches and cigarettes to keep the most enthusiastic of chain smokers happy for years, walk around the room offering cigarettes to guests who so wish to inhale the nastiness.  It’s rather a big deal and takes quite some time.  With approximately 160 guests dotted around 16 tables the room turns in to something of a gas chamber.

 

I was one of only two western faces at the wedding reception, and was made to feel very welcome indeed.  The bride and grooms’ parents thanking me for attending and randomers offering ‘hello’s’ and trying to practice their broken English.

 

To Ronny & Jessica, may you have a long and happy married life together.  Thank you for letting me share in your special day.

Lots of love.

A xx

Mid-Autumn Festival

National Holiday is upon us, for most expats here in China it means a week off work and time to enjoy the last of the summer sunshine by taking short breaks around Asia.  I however am staying in sunny Shangers to explore yet more of this great city and catch up with friends.

 

There is some confusion about Mid-Autumn festival, numerous tales about it origins and how people celebrate.  The extent of my knowledge could previously have been summed up with one word ‘mooncake’.  These are round pastries filled with anything from red bean paste to salted duck eggs, which are consumed in vast amounts over this period.  I first encountered them in Vietnam, offered as gifts from my students.  It was a shame I just couldn’t bring myself to like them, choosing instead to give them to my hard-working, mooncake-loving colleagues.

 

So what is mid-Autumn festival?  It’s a lunar harvest festival celebrated by Chinese and Vietnamese people.  The festival is held on the 15th day of the 8th month in the Chinese calendar, which falls in September or early October and was recently made a Chinese public holiday.  It is associated with the legend of the Moon Goddess of Immortality.  Celebrations include carrying brightly lit lanterns, lighting lanterns on towers, burning incense to honour deities, and Fire Dragon dances.

 

My Director of Studies has introduced a role of Cultural Mentor, one of our local teachers who will not only have the unenviable task of teaching the foreign teachers Chinese, but also educate us about life in China: traditions, celebrations and customs.  It’s a fantastic initiative, which I’m very much looking forward to beginning.

 

Happy Mid-Autumn celebrations to my friends in China & Vietnam.

A xx

Masking the problem

The man opposite me on the metro sneezed and coughed violently before whipping a disposable mask from his pocket and placing it over his nose and mouth, covering the offending orifices.  Job done, he sat back and continued reading his daily tabloid.

This is in stark contrast to Vietnam, where people cough and sneeze freely in public, never giving a passing thought to the fact it may be hygienic and considerate of them to cover their mouth and nose, preferably with a tissue or other suitable receptacle.  Masks in ‘Nam are instead worn whilst driving to protect from the sun’s harmful rays and lessen the effect of traffic pollution inhalation.

In ‘Nam, I wore a face mask during longer xe-om journeys, maybe it was a placebo effect but I felt it helped a little.  Here, however, I’m not so keen on the idea of wearing a mask as a way of advertising I’m currently a carrier for whatever nasty strain of bug is doing the rounds in our school.  To me it seems a little extreme and as I get stared at enough in public here I’m not about to do something that I think would draw any more attention my way. “Hey, look at me! I’m a germ harbouring westerner here to give you all my dirty germs and test your immune systems!”  No thanks.

Last week, I shared a metro carriage with an individual who chose to wear what can only be described as a Darth Vader–style industrial face mask.  I’ve since discovered these contain carbon filters to remove of a wide variety of contaminants, bad odours and organic vapours.  We were travelling in the late evening, on what had been a relatively cool day.  The air seemed cleaner than usual and humidity levels were low thanks to a few scattered showers throughout the course of the day.  It was far from rush hour on the metro and the bad odours were minimal as the weather isn’t yet hot enough to cause profuse perspiration, so the mask seemed a little extreme.  It did serve one wonderful purpose – giving the locals something more interesting than me to stare at during their journey home!

A xx

Bright white, that's right

With summer upon us the time has come for the ladies of Shanghai to don their skimpier garments and expose a little flesh.  As in Vietnam, some choose to cover every inch of their body’s with some form of fabric to fend off the ever present sun and prevent any form of tanning or indeed vitamin E.  Others choose to bare a little too much at times and hide under the shade of their colour coordinated umbrellas – this summer’s must-have fashion accessory.  If you are unfortunate enough to be caught out in the midday heat for any period of time, thereby tanning slightly you can always reverse the effects, but applying gallons of skin whitening products to every conceivable nook and crevice.

Even in winter months beauty shops, department stores, pharmacies and the like have shelf upon shelf of lotions and potions often with names such as ‘bright white’ ‘sparkling white’ ‘white radiance’ and ‘ghost of Christmas past’ – OK, so I made the last one up, but you get the idea.  In fact, it’s annoyingly difficult to find moisturisers or foundation without these skin whitening chemicals in them.  When friends visiting the city ask if there is anything I would like them to bring, I have now resorted to requesting for moisturiser… oh, and stroopwafels in the case of my Dutchie.

Regardless of whether or not they actually have the desired effect, I’m not about to start rubbing them in to my skin – who knows what’s in them, and I certainly have no desire to be any paler than I already am, if they do produce the effects shown on the pictures.  It’s a shame that the moisturiser-merchants don’t consider the hundreds of thousands of expats living in this city, we just want silky smooth skin, not a passing resemblance to Casper the friendly ghost.

A xx

Anouk's Asian initiation

It’s been over two years since I last saw my friend from The Netherlands.  We met whilst backpacking in New Zealand and although keeping in touch ever since we’ve only managed to meet up once, due to high workloads and my habit of country-hopping.  The past week, however, has definitely made up for that. 

This was Dutchie’s first visit to China, and I think Shangers is an excellent starting point for an Asian adventure.  Our time was spent exploring the little lanes and quaint shops of Tianzifang, wandering around the Yuyuan gardens, shopping at the markets and taking in the sights of the city after dark, admiring the neon nightscape from both sides of the water: Pudong & The Bund.

Oriental Pearl TV Tower

Lujiazui

With some extra time at our disposal, a trip to Suzhou was on the cards.  Dubbed ‘the Venice of the Orient’ due to its networks of canals its one of the must see water towns in the area.  Having invited some friends and colleagues along too, eight of us got comfortable on the bullet train for the hour long journey.  Upon our arrival we were surrounded by Chinese tour guides offering all kinds of deals and offers.  After shaking them off long enough to make a group decision, we agreed on hiring a driver and minibus to take us around the city for the day.

Bullet trains

First stop was a local restaurant which provided me with the perfect opportunity to introduce Dutchie to real, cheap, Chinese grub.  Having stuck mainly to western foods since her arrival I was keen to convert her and prove that meals costing less than a euro were the best around.  A plate of egg fried rice and dumplings later I was sufficiently refuelled and raring to go, and Dutchie seemed to have enjoyed her meal too, banishing any thoughts of getting a dodgy tummy long enough to clean her plate.  Next up, the Calm Garden: much as it sounds, a reasonably sized area of green space, lakes, canals and interesting Chinese temples and pagodas, where we spent a couple of hours roaming around and taking lot of photos.

The rest of the day was spent taking in the views from 243ft, at the top of the Beisi pagoda overlooking the city, touring a silk factory where we were shown the process from start to finish, and wandering around the canals and streets watching the locals go about their business.  It was nice to venture out of the city somewhere new with good company and glorious weather.

Add to the mix numerous fun-filled nights out socialising and salsa dancing, and it’s safe to say a very good time was had by all during the week - wonderful to catch up, reminisce about our backpacker days and make some new memories.  I’m sitting eating Dutch stroopwafels as I write this!

A xx

Surreal club scene

So the nightlife in this city is as good as any I’ve encounter before on my travels.  There are an abundance of expat bars, wine bars, dive bars, ladies nights, drinks offers and quiet hidden-away spots to keep the most indulgent inebriated individuals intoxicated indefinitely.  But there comes a time when all you want to do is don a pair of high heels and dance like there’s no tomorrow.  For this you have to head to a club, unless of course you are either confident and carefree or totally trolleyed.  

My first encounter with a Shanghai nightclub came a couple of months in to my stay here.  It was a spur of the moment thing after leaving a wine bar with friends, and I had no preconceptions about what I was about to encounter.  After walking past the entrance desk (without having to pay an admission fee) and stepping cautiously through the airport style metal detector, I was a little overwhelmed by what I witnessed. 

Clubs in the UK are generally vast open spaces – a massive dance floor with bars found at the peripheries: not in China.  Here I was surrounded by some kind of Alice in Wonderland style experience – dark wooden gothic style décor; grotesque oversized chandeliers; antique-style empire couches; tables laid with fake candles, platters of fruit and jugs of iced water; lasers shining on the lot to add a strange club-like effect.  Couples were sitting playing dice games whilst delicately sipping their drinks.  The dance tunes were interrupted by cabaret singers/dancers dressed as airline hostesses who jumped on stage singing dodgy cover versions and encouraging all and sundry to join in.

As you’d expect there aren’t too many western faces in these places mid-week (Tuesday and Wednesdays are most TEFL teachers’ ‘weekends’ here) so a few looks and stares from the locals comes as standard.  Standing next to a giant cast iron statue of a western armour-clad knight mounted on his horse our group looked on, half admiring half mocking the member of staff who was busting out some 1990’s style dance moves, with great enthusiasm: which was almost infectious… the key word there being ‘almost’! 

A man in a giant teddy bear suit walked past a few times, no one seemed to bat an eyelid.  We then found ourselves singing happy birthday to a local man who was later seen walking to the bathrooms with cake and icing covering his face!  Drunken Asian men were escorted to the exit every 20 minutes or so, all of whom seemingly congregate outside on the pavement, burying their heads in their hands in the hope that applying pressure to their skulls would magically make the pain disappear!  And there are no dirty midnight burger joints here – just street vendors selling freshly cooked, super cheap meat on a stick as you exit - superb stupid-o’clock sustenance.

I felt far too sober to be surrounded by all of this, yet I loved it!  As a people watcher it was one of the most amusing and curious places I’d seen in Shangers so far!  If I’m ever bored of an evening, I may just pop down there to submerge myself in their sobering Shanghai shenanigans.

A xx

Errr... I don't mean to offend... honestly

From a young age Liverpool Football Club have been my team of choice, they are one of the big name Premier League football teams from my local area, my Great Grandfather played for them and we always had season tickets in the family.  As such, I’ve followed them over the years, where both results and controversy are concerned.  A few months ago a Liverpool player called Luis Suarez was given an eight match ban and fined £40,000 by the FA after apparently using a racist term whilst addressing an opposition player during a Premier League fixture.  The Uruguayan maintained his innocence, claiming that the word “negro” – which he admitted using once during the incident – does not necessarily have racist connotations in his homeland.

Why do I mention this I hear you ask?  Amy’s never deviated from TEFL travel chat for this long before.  All will become clear, I promise. 

During the first visit to my school here in Shanghai, I was given a heads-up from my boss “Oh, by the way, you’ll hear the word ‘nigger’ used here a lot, don’t worry it’s nothing bad”.  As it turns out he was right on both counts; ‘nigguh’ is used here as a filler, during moments of hesitation in conversations and is frequently used by people of all ages, in all social settings.  I suppose you could say it’s the equivalent of ‘errr’ or ‘umm’ in many English speaking countries.  And it takes a little getting used to, especially when you know to listen out for it.

My flatmate seemed quite shocked when I mentioned it to him during a conversation about a month after our arrival.  He hadn’t heard it at all… until he knew to listen for it, at which point it was everywhere!  When you’re surrounded by people speaking a foreign language you tend to zone out a bit, there’s no need for you to pay attention and it washes over you: ignorance is bliss you might say.  Having lived here for a little while you tend to pick up on key Chinese words that are frequently used, as well as basic things like greetings and numbers etc.  At the point of hearing those words you translate them in to your mother tongue and zone out again, as the rest is one big homogeneous blob of gobble-de-gook.  So the words you know tend to jump out at you in conversation, none more so than ‘nigguh’.

It’s surprisingly catchy; a colleague of mine has been learning Chinese for the past 18 months and uses this same ‘filler’ whilst speaking to local people.  My only fear is that when he returns to America in a few months time, he’ll forget where he is and be assaulted as a result of uttering it!  But this does make me wonder how my African American colleagues feel about hearing it used so flippantly, even if the connotations are dramatically different…

So spare a thought for Mr. Suarez, put on public trial by the media for reverting to his mother tongue in the heat of the moment…

A xx

Familiarity

Unbelievably, over a month has passed since I arrived in Shanghai, and although I’m loving all aspects of my new life here, there are a few things I miss about Vietnam.  Personally, I find there are countless plus points to living here, but the flip side of the coin also leaves me missing the quirky, unfamiliar things that ‘Nam offered up on an almost daily basis.

I don’t know, perhaps my experience of travelling South East Asia has dumbed down the differences I now notice.  Less travelled fellow newcomers seem to find a whole array of things unusual and a little illogical, whilst I look on and don’t bat an eyelid.  I’m hoping my travels around this vast country in the coming months will provide me with some quirky new experiences to satisfy, not only my travel bug, but also my culture cravings!  If not, I may begin to lack inspiration for blog posts, and we can’t have that now, can we!

A xx

Down to business

The inevitable occurred the other day, whilst eating lunch with friends in a small restaurant – I needed the little girls’ room.  Having avoided using public lavatories here since my arrival, the thought wasn’t a pleasing one.  Opening the door revealed what I suspected, something far from a western water closet.

Unfortunately, squaring up to this porcelain plateau wasn’t an alien concept.  They are commonly found in Vietnamese roadside service stations and thankfully I’d only had to acquaint myself with one once before.  To my surprise, there was toilet tissue, a sink and soap.  To my dismay, there was also an oversized plunger!

After carefully weighing up the situation, I left in search of a more familiar receptacle.  Luckily, Burger King lay only a few blocks away, preventing the use of primitive potties and the appearance of wet patches.

With an abundance of western fast food chains strewn around the city, I should be able to avoid such scenarios a wee while longer!

A xx

Spit & polish

Nose picking and public urinating – two things common to Vietnam; here in China, they go one better: the Vietnamese may spit in public, but the Chinese do it with real gusto.  Whilst exiting a metro station on my journey home some days ago, I passed a young Chinese couple, conversing happily.  No sooner had her partner stopped speaking, than the ‘lady’ did something virtually unheard of in the west.

I’d like to think I have a way with words and can adequately paint perceptive pictures in the minds’ of my readers.  However, I neither want to, or feel I can, do so with this scenario… but here goes.  ‘Hocking’ – a slang term for a sharp intake of breathe, designed to dislodge nasal nuisances, which are then very ‘eloquently’ disposed of with a swift outward breathe through the mouth, landing like paintball fire, hopefully avoiding passersby.

Upon witnessing this, my colleague and I starred first at her, then at each other: aghast and wide eyed, whilst her Romeo continued their conversation seemingly oblivious to Juliet’s public performance.  Numerous friends had warned me about this prior to my arrival here, but I hadn’t anticipated it being so far removed from the ‘hockers’ of the UK and Vietnam.  Luckily, we were outside and I’ve yet to witness anyone repeating such an act indoors.  The city on the whole is very clean and the honour of hosting Expo a couple of years ago seems to have contributed greatly to achieving this.  Hopefully, the Shanghainese will take more pride in their sensational city – which might in turn rub off to their public behaviour.

Whilst walking around People’s Square last Saturday afternoon I noticed a short, stout, scruffy old lady loitering with intent.  Carrying a wooden box she observes passersby, before carefully making her move.  Her aim, to mark your shoes with her cream cleaner, so you have no choice but to let her shine your shoes.  It is at this point I should mention, I noticed her too late, my left foot now appeared white and I found myself sitting on a small wall whilst she buffed my black boots; much to the amusement of my converse-wearing colleague, who was all too eager to catch the moment on camera.  Luckily, my work shoes are suede, so I shouldn’t be approached too many more times!

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

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

Seeing Saigon for the first time… again

Last Tuesday saw the arrival of Mr Amy.  It’s been a testing 6 months being so far apart and even daily chats on Skype, emails and text messages just aren’t the same as being able to spend quality time with each other in person.  His time here will see us exploring Hanoi, Halong Bay and Mũi Né together, as well as experiencing the many unique things Vietnam constantly offers up.

Six months down the line from my arrival in Saigon, it’s now difficult to remember the many things that immediately struck me as being so vastly different from home.  I definitely noticed the smells here – they’re something you can’t quite put your finger on (and definitely wouldn’t wish to in the literal sense).  Mr Amy’s observations and comparisons have, however, reawakened my consciousness and I’m noticing the differences all over again, in a very humorous way.

A prime example of this was when we ventured out to do an Amy-lou style tour of the city.  Starting at the Opera House and working our way back to my digs required a xe-om.  Mr Amy is no stranger to motorbikes, but it did make me chuckle when he tried to hold the driver’s waist rather than the handle at the back of the seat.  Having been here for 6 months, I now perch nicely without the aid of handles (unless I have a particularly erratic driver).  After pointing out an alternative to cosying up to the driver, we were on our way. 

“I’ll bring my own cutlery” – the words of a defeatist Mr Amy at the thought of three weeks using chopsticks.  It is now a rarity for me to use eating irons – wooden chopsticks have become far quicker and more convenient.  It was, however, inevitable that my significant other would, at some point, have to bite the bullet.  After a short demo and with a strong desire to fill his belly, I can proudly say that Mr Amy is now a chopstick enthusiast - even requesting to visit my favourite ‘chopstick-only’ Thai restaurant.

The traffic, scooters, heat, humidity, food, people and very different style of living all now seem to be the norm for me – it’s quite strange seeing these differences again through someone else’s eyes.

More travel tales from Hanoi and Halong Bay to come…

A xx

You know you’re an expat in Vietnam when…

1. Anything less than 25°C is considered cold.
2. Letting traffic dodge you is perfectly normal.
3. Riding on the back of a xe-om is no longer a white-knuckle ride.
4. 'Cảm ơn' is a more natural response than 'thank you'.
5. You're content with your pale complexion - after all, it's prestigious here.
6. Using chopsticks is quicker and more convenient than cutlery.
7. You now love fish sauce, having previously detested the stuff.
8. Paying more than £3 for a meal in a restaurant is expensive.
9. Paying more than £6 a night for an en-suite room in a guesthouse is expensive.
10. You place bets with your friends about how many rats, ‘roaches and urinating men you will see on your walk home of an evening.

A xx

Fingers crossed – or maybe not!

Gestures – some are universally understood, others can be totally misconstrued when used in different countries.  This was never more apparent than when one of my colleagues stood in front of her class, hoping the temperamental CD player would work and crossed her fingers for good luck.  She was totally dumbfounded when the room erupted in a cacophony of gasps, laughter and screams.  Little did she know that crossing your fingers in Vietnam symbolises the female genitalia and is the ultimate obscene gesture! Now there’s a mistake she won’t make again.

A xx

‘Losing face’

So, the latest learning curve: losing face – this is not an account of serious health consequences resulting from faulty facelifts, but a big thing in Asia and something hard to fully understand unless you have experienced it yourself.  I'll do my best to explain with the help of a recent encounter. Once a week I go to the local laundrette around the corner, deposit my clothes with the grumpy, overweight, middle-aged Vietnamese proprietor, take my ticket and return the next day to collect it all.  At a cost of less than 50p for the lot you would think you couldn’t go far wrong.  However, one week I return to my digs, empty the laundry bag and find 3 garments missing, not to mention a pair of someone else's pants as replacement! Returning to the shop (with the manager of my guesthouse to act as interpreter) I enter the ‘face’ farce.

Basically, a Vietnamese person will never admit they are wrong for fear of losing reputation or respect: i.e. they will swear blind the sky is pink even when all around know it’s blue (or a shade of ‘greenhouse gas grey’ here most days). Put simply – it’s a whole heap of male bovine do-do.

Returning to our scenario – overweight, grumpy washer woman will not concede to losing my clothes (even though she itemises the garments on the ticket), she ignores the fact she has already made 1 error (that of giving me someone else’s fake Chanel ‘diamante’ nylon smalls – which incidentally were not so small and clearly wouldn’t have belonged to my pert posterior). Suggesting she pay me if she could not replace them, she looked at me as if my clothes were made of spun gold and/or I’d been sniffing crack when I told her how much they would cost to replace (by UK standards of course).  This should have worked in my favour as it indicated I have higher prestige than Mrs Washer woman – alas, it didn’t: after requesting she look for them, or pay me for the missing items I cut my losses and left.  I should have known my request would go unanswered – even if she had bothered to look for them and found them, she’d never return them as that would also ‘lose face’ as she’d be admitting her error.

So, what lessons can we take from this?  Well, I have now come to learn (if I didn’t know already) I am always right in every way, shape and form!  I will never apologise or admit to anything ever again, because I am an expat in Asia. One word - pants!

A xx

Random observations

Thought I’d share with you a few random observations I've made since touching down on Asian soil:

1. Vietnamese people

On the whole they're very friendly, have great respect for teachers, will say hello in the street and are keen to practise what little English they know.  University students often sit in the parks in the hope of practising spoken English with the teachers and western tourists, some also asking you to complete short surveys as part of their studies.

Walking back from a bar in the wee small hours once I passed a taxi driver cleaning his cab – after taking a look at this tall, western girl wearing a short skirt and vest top he hissed, shouted and then threw something in my vicinity.  Being alone at that time is generally safe unless you carry a shoulder bag (a magnet for bag snatchers on scooters), but my sceptical gland is enlarged here and there was no way I was about to stop, turn and look at this joker. More fool me, it was only when I got home I found a button missing from my skirt – the button the taxi driver was trying to return to me (albeit by hissing and throwing it) when it fell on the pavement! They’re a good bunch after all.

A small percentage do like to stare as you walk by. I can well imagine a tall, slim, pale western girl with wider hips and bigger boobs (I know I'm no Katie Price) than the average Asian woman would be cause to stare if I were Vietnamese, but during my ‘off-days’ I can't help myself but to stare back, returning the 'alien-like' look I'm receiving.  And the lady who pointed at me as she rode past on her scooter in Nha Trang - well, what could I do but immediately point at her, opening my mouth aghast to show my shock at seeing a Vietnamese person in Vietnam – ‘cos Buddha forbid there should be a westerner in a tourist hotspot!

They are also fairly unaware of the world around them. It's probably mainly due to being a communist country and spending years in schools having opinions drilled in to them in line with government thinking. But even talking to well educated Vietnamese teaching assistants who have the desire to travel, it becomes apparent that they have little knowledge of the world and (more worryingly) see no reason to ever question anything (again probably due to their dictatorial style of education system).  Free thinking is even frowned upon when studying degrees such a philosophy.  So having a debate with my class of Intermediate level seniors took a while, but did eventually evoke some interesting free-thinking responses: who knows what it could start!

2. Spatial awareness

To be frank - it simply doesn't exist here: as in many Asian countries. People don't queue, nor do they move out of the way. Waiting and turn taking are also alien concepts (except where my students are concerned: they all forms lines during games and wait for their turn until I utter the magic word ‘go’! Gotta love having so much power!).  There are few car parks here; those there are exist only under newly built department stores or blocks of flats. As a result scooters are parked anywhere and everywhere - usually on pavements next to barbers, restaurant tables, all kinds of street stalls and their sellers, xe-om drivers hassling you for business… the list could go on.  The few who drive cars in the city park them 3 foot from the pavement as they have no idea what they are actually doing and are far more interested in flaunting their expensive motor as a status symbol, even though few can actually see over the steering wheel!

3. Exercise

Vietnamese people are told from a young age that participating in sports will make you taller (yes, really)! As a child who detested PE in school and now stands at 5’10”, I can vouch that this is not the secret to eternal lankiness. However, many of my students participate in badminton in the hope of growing tall and strong. Roadside gyms overflow with weedy men trying to emulate the posters of American body builders that adorn the doorway.  But walking - why would you want to do a thing like that? Apparently, this action is not classified as exercise and it’s an alien concept that anyone would actually choose to put one foot in front of the other for more than 20 yards. Why do that, after all you have your battered Honda wave scooter to take you from A to A + 20 yards. So as I stride down the many pavements of Saigon (dodging all the aforementioned clutter found on them as I go) every xe-om and taxi driver I pass slows down/honks their horns/shouts ‘motto-bike miss’ and seem bewildered when I say I like to walk.

"You want motto-bike?"

I could go on, but I’ve no doubt you’ve better things to do than listening to my eternal ramblings.

A xx