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

Bars, beers & birds

As most students are, I was quite partial to the odd intoxicating beverage during my university and backpacking years.  I wouldn’t say I ever hit it hard though, at least not compared to the majority of my acquaintances – you all know who you are!  Since those days, however, I’ve opted for quieter, more civilised surroundings – there comes a point when the crowded venues, sticky floors and headaches the following day simple outweigh the tipsy tales.

The same applies here.  I have previously mentioned (see ‘culture shock’ post – Friday, 15 April 2011) that the majority of my colleagues plunge straight in to a life of drunken debauchery.  For many, their favourite pastime is sitting outside one of the local bars, lounging on deck chairs and drinking poor quality watered-down vodka from containers resembling plastic Nutella jars.  If the noise, pollution and general mayhem weren’t enough to endure, try adding to the mix the many street hawkers selling books/DVDs/cigarettes/chewing gum/dried squid/massages/the kitchen sink.  This is not my cup of tea (or glass of rosé as the case may be).

At the opposite end of the scale we have the swanky expat bars downtown.  Having only visited 4 of these, I am in no rush to return to any of them.  Here I must stress the following is based purely on my limited personal experiences (as indeed is this entire blog), many may disagree with me, but hey ho – each to their own.

This will probably come as no surprise to anyone who has visited Asia, or who has ‘enjoyed’ a beverage in any bar around the Mathew Street area of Liverpool!

Expat bars full of Western middle-aged, balding, potbellied perverts ogling over beautiful, petite, Asian barmaids who wear little more than white vest tops, hotpants and killer heels.  These women flirt with anything in order to sell a pint or two.  Some wear tight little skirts and dresses with ‘Budweiser’, ‘Tiger’, ‘San Miguel’ etc emblazoned all over them.  And it came as quite a surprise to be immediately surrounded by four of these girls seconds after taking a pew.  Needless to say, the usual arm gestures worked a treat to shoo them away in the direction of some pervy expats.

For the next hour, whilst chatting and sipping my strawberry daiquiri I immersed myself in one of my favourite pastimes – people watching.  I’ve always been interested in others, some call it being nosey, I just think I’m inquisitive!  People watching tells allsorts about total strangers and often lets your mind wander to the possibilities and farfetched conclusions one can often jump to.

So, Budweiser bird is over by the pillar, leaning provocatively and flirting outrageously with a portly Western bloke.  San Miguel señorita strokes the arm of mullet man by the bar – he looks like he’s escaped from a Status Quo tribute act.  And Tiger, well she just pushes the buttocks of an un-branded waitress, who returns the gesture – cheek to cheek.  No wonder every Western wannabe Hugh Hefner has found his way in here!

After watching a few more ageing perverts behaving inappropriately with beer broads, my attention turns to the couple by the bar.  She is a young, slender, attractive Asian lady, wearing revealing clothes and a broad smile.  He is mid-50’s, obese, balding and sporting a pair of jeans and open necked shirt.  My guess is – he hasn’t been able to see his genitals past that paunch since the mid 90’s.  And what does she see in him I wonder?!

Vietnamese women are very open about their desire to bag a Western man.  Domestic violence is high here and many young girls view the financial stability and loving arms of a Western man as the pot of gold at the end of their rainbow.  Three weeks in to his contract, a colleague of mine met a 19 year old Vietnamese girl in a local bar that is well known as a regular ‘teachers’ haunt’.  Alone, dressed to the nines and very taken by my colleague, she made no bones about the fact she was looking for a Western boyfriend.  My friend, a reasonably good looking 29 year old Brit, would have no problems getting a Western girl here or at home. However, he actually liked her and the two managed to spend a turbulent four months together before something had to give.  He had been paying for everything – as is expected from most Vietnamese women I must point out.  That aside, the cultural differences and mood swings became too much and he ended it – leaving his lady of leisure high and dry.

But my real question is this – of the percentage of Asian women who are willing to sacrifice true love for financial stability, how many are truly happy with their choice?

A xx

Sun, sea, sand & Sankara

Not having seen a decent beach since our summer holiday to Kos last year, Mr Amy was craving some R&R, so I duly booked us a few days in Mũi Né.  I’d already visited this little haven back in March during an all expenses paid staff trip with the school.  It’s a nice little spot, which lay largely unspoilt before the solar eclipse of 1995; when the coastline around Mũi Né & Phan Thiết provided the perfect viewing point on the south coast of ‘Nam.  Since then, high end resorts and water sports companies have sprung up all along the beach.  But it still retains a certain charm and peacefulness that I haven’t found on any other beach here.

Having scoured the internet a few weeks before Mr Amy’s arrival, I‘d booked a room at a centrally located, Aussie-owned place, close to a fair few restaurants and my favourite bar – Sankara.  On arrival, we found the English manager had a sea view beach hut available – newly renovated, we couldn’t resist.  A little luxury in paradise.

The view from our beach hut

If you’re not a kite surfer, there is little action in Mũi Né.  The two main sight-seeing spots are the Cham Towers (which I had visited back in March) and the Fairy Stream and waterfall which run between the sand dunes.  After sinking a few cocktails in Sankara to mark the end of day one, we opted for a relaxed wander and spot of fairy finding the following day.

Greeted by a small army of Vietnamese school children, who reminded me somewhat of Peter Pan’s lost boys, we found ourselves the target of yet another Vietnamese money making scam.  “No shoes: 3,000 dong to keep shoes” one of them says – because apparently you can’t walk down the stream wearing them.  I tell them it's fine, we’ll carry them.  “I guide you, very deep, dangerous, I know, I live here”.  I almost want to commend the small boy on his excellent, although broken English.  I tell him we’ll be fine and go it alone (also saving ourselves some money).  I’m sure it may be a little deep if you are a young, vertically challenged Vietnamese child, but at 6’ and 5’10” respectively, Mr Amy and I found ourselves paddling ankle deep in the water.

The Fairy Stream

After a few dreamy days filled with sun, sea, sand and sunbathing, it was time to return to Saigon.  Mr Amy departs this evening (volcanic ash clouds permitting) and it’s back to work for me this weekend.  So, our varied and thoroughly enjoyable three weeks comes to a close – and just in time as rainy season and summer school are both looming!

A xx

Oggy, oggy, oggy, Han-oi oi oi!

With Mr Amy not warming to life in Saigon, what better time to take a trip to Hanoi.  A cleaner, cooler, less humid and more relaxed city, Mr Amy adapted far more easily to these surroundings.  The French influence here is more obvious than in Saigon and all I had read about it developing more gracefully than its Southern counterpart appear accurate.

Our £12 a night room was amazing, I was quite chuffed with my little self at the find.  Conveniently located on a quiet street in the centre of the city, we didn’t use any xe-oms at all.  After exploring Hoan Kiem Lake, The Opera House and Temple of Literature day one had run away with us.

The ceremonial drum at the Temple of Literature

Uncle Ho’s dying wish was to be cremated, his ashes scattered half in the north of the country, half in the south.  However, the Vietnamese ‘yes phenomenon’, meaning “yes I have heard what you have said, but will do as I please regardless” means even Uncle Ho was ignored and fobbed off.  As such, he is now preserved in a glass cabinet in the centre of Hanoi for all to gawp at.  Naturally, we fancied a gawp to satisfy our morbid curiosity, so day two saw us pottering down to the mausoleum, ensuring legs and booby bits were suitable covered.  Alas, the queue was colossal – fellow gawpy hopefuls lined Hung Vuong Street, needless to say we didn’t stop to stare, a visit to the Presidential Palace and Uncle H’s former house on stilts were just a stone’s throw away.

The following two days were spent cruising Halong Bay.  A three hour drive from Hanoi, holiday makers flock here for a relaxing break away from the sensory assault of the cities.  Unfortunately, with so many people having the same idea, it can become somewhat of a tourist conveyor belt, losing the idyllic charm most seek.  After lunch onboard we cruised around the limestone formations and stopped off to see inside the local caves, lit with a multitude of disco lights!  The remainder of the trip was spent chatting with fellow passengers, sunbathing and admiring the scenery.  All in all, we have some nice photos, but the experience itself wasn’t all it is marketed as.

Floating fruit stall - Halong Bay

After another two days of mooching around the vaguely interesting points on our map, we find ourselves back in Saigon.  Thumbs up for Hanoi, shame a transfer to my company’s school there is out of the question.

Off to Mũi Né tomorrow for some R&R.

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

Forty winks

As someone who once slept through an earthquake in Mexico (measuring 7.0 on the Richter scale) and was regularly unaware of my family burglar alarm going off in the wee small hours, I consider myself a pretty sound sleeper; but the Vietnamese put me to shame.  Anywhere and everywhere here people doze.  Whether they’re lying flat out on the seats of their scooters or using a makeshift hammock strung under a truck – nothing will come between them and their afternoon nap.  And rightly so might I add, most locals rise about 5:00am and in my opinion well deserve a power nap by the time 12:30pm arrives.  I myself have on the odd occasion taken to having a wee snooze in the arvo – well, if you can’t beat them you may as well join them!

A xx

Trivial truths

1. I’m working with a former Mr Canada (who could pass as Hulk actor Lou Ferrigno).

2. I’m also working with Dustin Hoffman’s doppelganger.

3. Uncle Ho used to work as a pastry chef in London's Carlton Hotel.

That is all - over and out. 

A xx

Viet-vision

Vietnamese TV: something I have yet to mention, probably due to the adequate number of English language channels showing the usual American teen programmes and movies.  But one restless night, somewhere between Junior Masterchef Australia and Shaun the Sheep (my logic being it would ease me to a satisfying slumber faster than counting imaginary equivalents); I stumbled upon a curious soap opera. 

There was an Asian lady (presumably Vietnamese) with amazing overacting skills, whining incessantly to her partner, who then appeared on screen sporting a duvet and a rather sleepy-eyed look.  It wasn’t immediately apparent what she was requesting, pointing to her back she presumably wanting assistance unzipping her dress.  But no, her husband tossed her way a strange handheld massage instrument (which wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of Amsterdam’s sex/torture museums).  After a little more whining to coax her Romeo out from behind his duvet, not a lot was happening and I turned over to a music channel showing…

Equally mind-numbing: K-pop.  Korean pop singers found on many music channels and adored by tonnes of my teenage students.  All female solo artists appear to sing melancholy ballads whilst sitting on armchairs, hugging cushions to provide some kind of comfort during this obviously terribly distressing episode.  The hazy lens only adds to the overall wrist-slittingly sorrowful effect.  All set off by a wide-angle shot of said fair maiden wearing an off the shoulder over-sized jumper whilst leaning uncomfortably against a wall – ever so naturally, as you do.  Not to mention the flower petals and confetti defying gravity, floating up the screen.  And to top it off… the lyrics don’t even appear to rhyme!

So all things considered, I think I’ll stick to watching HBO and Starworld – I’d far rather be an American Idol fan, than a K-pop enthusiast!

A xx

Hair today, gone tomorrow

This may be the most terrifying experience of my time in ‘Nam to date, but it’s inevitable due to the imminent arrival of Mr Amy. Yes, that’s right it’s time to visit a Vietnamese hairdresser! Having had a few fairly average haircuts in Australia (where no obvious language barrier exists) you can see why I’m a little apprehensive about the prospect of putting my lush long locks in the hands of a foreign scissor wielder! If you don’t hear from me for a while it’s cos I’m scouring Saigon for a wig maker!

A xx

Back from Dalat

Xin chào blog fans! I’m back!

In the interests of not sowing expectations to reap disappointments I heeded the words of a culture shocked colleague’s experience of Dalat: “It’s nice, but it’s still Vietnam”, and went on my merry way with few preconceived ideas about what awaited me in the central highlands.  The early start and 7 hour bus journey was made more bearable when I moved to the back of the vehicle to secure a double seat and reclined to my lanky legs’ delight.

On arrival, after checking in to my guesthouse – a comfortable little place in backpacker-ville – I went for a wander and soon became the latest target of the Easy Rider brigade.  I’d heard of this crew, and indeed had already decided to do one of their day tours of the Dalat countryside before leaving Saigon.  They’re essentially a bunch of middle aged bikers (real bikes that is, not the little scooters you find in the rest of ‘Nam) who offer anything from day tours of Dalat to 21 day tours up to Hanoi and Sapa in the far north.  As with everything in ‘Nam, fakes flourish everywhere and I wanted to make sure I got the real deal.  After shaking off 3 of these clowns I was directed to their office and after checking price, itinerary and official ID cards I arranged to meet Mr Quân the following morning.

Something dawned on me that evening – it was a bit nippy. At around 24°C this was by far the coldest temperature I’d been exposed to since leaving the UK.  I had Goosebumps!  This does not bode well for my return to the UK in December.

The next day was amazing – starting with a visit to the Dragon pagoda, followed by coffee and tea plantations, a flower farm, silk spinning factory, Elephant waterfall, old railway station and Linh Phuoc pagoda – which is decorated with old beer bottles and ceramics.  Getting to know each other a little over the course of the day, I learned Mr Quân had been making a living this way for the past 20 years or so.  I contemplated asking what he did pre 1975, but thought this may be shaky ground, especially as we had the rest of the day with only each other for company.  Mr Quân was, however, audibly shocked to learn my age, after estimating me to be a youthful 22: I knew my gut instinct was right to choose this guy as my guide! 

Coffee beans

Elephant waterfall

Not long after, we stopped off at a vantage point to take photos of the valley below, Mr Quân offered to take my photograph sitting on his bike – no sooner had he taken a few snapshots on my camera, than he did the same with his own handheld Lumix.  Apparently, it might end up on the website.  Now I don’t have a problem with plugging the Easy Rider company – indeed Mr Quân had done a sterling job as my guide, and word of mouth is a powerful thing, but being the new face of the Easy Riders was not on my agenda, particularly as I wasn’t feeling my most glamorous after being led through coffee plantations and vegetable patches, not to mention the helmet that had well, quite frankly ruined my straightened hair.  Let’s just hope the picture comes out blurry and never sees the light of the Easy Rider's webpage!

After Mr Quân had completed his tour, he dropped me off at Hang Nga’s Crazy House.  Something of an eyesore as far as the fine folk of Dalat are concerned, it is designed and owned by the daughter of a former president.  The photos of her family enjoying the company of Uncle Ho only serve as a reminder that the town folks’ objections to these new constructions will fall on deaf ears.  A fine example of how money and power reign in this country.  The house (which really consists of 4 separate buildings – some still very much under construction) is uniquely decorated.  With only 12 or so rooms few tourists actually choose to stay here, although many pop in during their time in Dalat to satisfy their curiosity.

The following days were filled with visits to the Flower gardens, lake, Lam Ty Ni pagoda and Bao Dai’s Summer Palace.  Lam Ty Ni doesn’t look like much from the outside – a fairly small, unimpressive and rundown pagoda surrounded by large metal gates.  But inside lives a strange and intriguing individual – the mad monk.  Vien Thuc lives here with his dog and 100,000 self-portraits! I was itching to meet him, but alas, the gates were locked on my arrival and Mr Thuc didn’t appear to want to let me in (if indeed he was even resident at the time).

In contrast, Bao Dai’s Summer Palace with its exquisitely manicured grounds was warm and welcoming.  After taking a tour around the building, wearing slip on socks to protect the floor (and unknowingly helping to polish the floorboards) I headed out to explore the gardens.  To my surprise I was met with the sound of Blue’s greatest hits (for those of you who are not aware of his ‘pop phenomenon’ they were a mediocre boy band from the early noughties who are now has-beens).  I wasn’t aware that Emporer Bao Dai had been a fan of such British boy bands, but you learn something new every day!

Bao Dai’s Summer Palace

So all in all a very relaxing and enjoyable change of scene, refreshingly different from the cities and beaches I’ve already experienced here.  Open spaces, clean air and friendly locals who are wiser than to try and rip you off when you mention you live in Saigon!  But a friend was right when he told me the wine was crap – even if some of it is 16% proof!

A xx