virtual moving

I’ve had some troubles getting into wordpress recently, so have moved my blog to here which is where it will continue for now.

 

Journey

A few weeks ago I got on a plane and left Hanoi for the first time in three months. 17 hours later I landed in Auckland, slightly bleary eyed but more or less competent in working my way through immigration and customs. My one doubt was resolved – melatonin is allowed in New Zealand. Ergo jet-lag pretty much dealt with.

I was greeted my very good friend, a hug and was rapidly introduced to the concept of the “flat white”. Fickle bean that I am when it comes to coffee, I was vaguely sceptical but have been won over by this Kiwi intermediary step between cappuccino and latte.

Auckland was a city. Not much else to be said. It was a shock after Hanoi, unbelievably clean, ordered, with motorists who obey traffic signals and grasp the concept of lanes. I struggled a little to change my recently acquired pedestrian habits of walking slowly and purposefully across the road and reprogrammed myself to wait for a. the green man and b. the traffic to stop.

One trip to Waiheke Island, a visit to some wineries (listen to some burble, try some wines, leave… not what I’m used to, but vaguely interesting all the same), a night out, some serious adjustment to the cold, food, chatter, shopping (eeek!) later we left this city and headed to The Bay of Plenty.

Sea, rain, cold, wind, salty air. Everything I needed (with the possible exception of the rain) (but it is nice to know that not everywhere has monsoon-like conditions..). A night out and a fabulous roast lamb Sunday dinner.

Back on the road to Taupo (pronounced “toe-poe” apparently) via Rotarua and the Thermal Wonderland at Wai-O-Tapu which was just like being on the set of a popular 1960’s SciFi series.

Stinky, to say the least, as sulphuric acid was making it’s way up from the (seemingly very near) Earth centre. There was that temptation to dip your toe into the streams eating away at the rock, but really the knowledge that you’d soon be one toe worse off within seconds was enough to stop such ideas. A really incredible place and actually “awesome” (an overused words in these parts). There was even a bubbling mud pool and some fluorescent green waters:

After staying the night in Taupo and sleeping right through an erupting volcano and subsequent earth tremors, we spent the morning splashing about in spa waters before heading off to Napier in the Hawkes Bay.

Hawkes Bay = wine. Hurrah. A thoroughly pleasant day was passed visiting wineries, one of which, Church Road, actually gave us the tour and explained the process. I got to ask difficult questions and my friend got to contemplate having her wedding there.

Several other wineries followed, with a total of 22 wines tasted. They all seemed to taste similar after a while… The winner of the day was definitely the Marzemino from Church Road, which was similar to Mazuelo (if not the same) and reminded me of the old country  *sigh*.

I was amused by the presence of sheep in amongst the vines.

Wellington was the next and final stop on the road trip, and a great place to end up in. It was like coming home, bizarrely. Despite the high number of pedestrian vs bus deaths in the city and my tendency to just cross roads in Hanoi-fashion, I managed not to die.

I enjoyed the European feel to the place and its street art and poetry. I had a fantastic night out and met various lovely people. I had killingly-hot, but divine Gumbo in Sweet mama’s Kitchen and even went for yum cha (or dim sum as we call it in the UK).

A wonderful time spent in a wonderful country. That sense of *ahhhh* has disappeared somewhat since my return to the smoke, chaos and traffic of Hanoi, but its memory will keep me comforted for a little while.

Situational cinema

I went to see The Quiet American tonight at Cinemateque.

Cinemateque is a place that I discovered on Friday after a friend’s prompting and was enthralled. It’s a slightly moldy, french colonial-type arrangement in Hai Bà Trung with a terrace bar and red, worn, velvet seating. There’s an upright piano and an indoor room with round lanterns. It is to be found down a dimly lit alleyway which is home to many rats. At the bar, they do a Hummus plate and quesadillas. En fin: it’s wonderful.

I was very pleased by the idea of seeing A Quiet American as I have been lazy in my literary accompaniment to my current geographical position and really it is a book/film one should read/see whilst here. It wasn’t even slightly disappointing. The version that was shown was the more recent, Michael Caine and Brendon Fraser version, which was beautifully made and much more interesting having lived here for even a short time.

The film started and ended with the voiceover, “They say whatever you’re looking for, you will find here. They say you come to Vietnam and you understand a lot in a few minutes, but the rest has got to be lived.” Which rings so true. He also commented on the rain, which started in real time during the film and was in its full glory when the doors opened at the end.

A film worth seeing, but moreso in these circumstances.

Surprises

So, today when I arranged to meet my landlord to pay the rent I was told that they are no longer going to rent the apartments in my building.

Great. I’m back looking at flats.

Luckily, I had the afternoon free so have managed to see three. Two of which I love for completely different reasons – one has a private, but quirky roof terrace with a lovely view, a dark living room with a teeny balcony. Making it great for summer, but possibly a bit grim in winter. It’s nest like, however with a lovely bedroom. Small kitchen. Hmmm.

The other has no balcony but a fantastic view of the river and is in quite a cool area. It’s a little further from work and I would seriously need to get a bike in order to get about the place, but is really light. And has a bath. And probably not susceptible to random women wandering in at whim.

It’ll be a shame to leave my little place and I was just beginning to enjoy living in this part of town, but perhaps it’s for the best. It means I’ll have a frantic week ahead, getting everything done before the summer holidays begin, but at least then I’ll be prompted to get my bike organised when I get back.

Other random observations and discoveries: I saw a heavily pregnant woman carrying a small child in her arms in the middle of Lang Hà yesterday, completely calm, crossing the 4-lane road of mental traffic.

Tea was had at the Metropole last Sunday. V posh. Lovely.

I’ve managed to eat Pho Cuon again after a four month break. Eating sooo much of it the first time put me off for a while, but I was craving street food last night, so indulged and thoroughly enjoyed it. That’s a Trùc Bach speciality, so I’ll have to enjoy it while I’m still here.

My Vietnamese is actually beginning to slowly (very slowly) progress. I’m managing random comments and very short functional conversations. Nua is rain, which I’m learning because there is a lot of it about and my xe om driver likes to point at the sky and shout “nua!” whenever it seems to be coming.

Also nòng quá = it’s very hot. Also learned in weather-context.

That’s all for now.

That inhospitable westerner on the third floor…

Boundaries are frequently an issue in life. Between strangers and friends alike; sometimes it is difficult to see exactly where one should stop and respect another’s territory. They can be delicate and subtle things and when somebody bundles over them, by accident or otherwise, discomfort and mild irk can occur.

However, barging into somebody’s private residence in the middle of the day, whilst she is sitting on the sofa in her nightie, kicking off one’s shoes and attempting to curl up on the same sofa is about as delicate and subtle a confusion of boundaries as a reinforced spike covered tank accidentally running into an animal-loving, environmentally conscious candy-floss seller.

But who am I, the ethnocentric inhabitant of said flat, to pass comment? Well, I’m me. And it was my flat and sanctum on a Sunday afternoon.

To say I was surprised would be a mild understatement. I’m glad I was chatting to somebody on skype at the time as I don’t think I really believed it was happening.

My very western approach to the situation was to ask what they thought they were doing exactly and usher them respectfully, but quite firmly out the door.

Weird.

small joys in a difficult land (and some juxtaposition)

One of the few (sometimes many) great rewards about teaching kids are the things that they randomly come out with at unexpected moments.

Vietnamese kids can be very direct once they feel comfortable with you.

Today a child stood next to me and announced: “You have a smell!” It was unbearable hot this morning so I would have been very surprised to have not had a “smell”. “Oh, really?” I replied.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a good smell.” I inwardly sighed in relief.

Other surprises of the day – after not being able to communicate effectively with my xe om about where I was and where I wanted to go, I walked some of the way. I then saw the impending storm and that I was going to be late for my Vietnamese lesson, so phoned him and tried hard to communicate where I was then. I sent a text using a few words that I’ve learned “tôi o (with curly accent on top)…” and the name of the two streets. <I’m at…>

“Ok,” he said.

I waited.

I waited some more.

He eventually came and presented me with a bag of Lichee (currently in season) before taking me to my class. Frustration versus sudden kindness: something which always catches me off guard.

Now, cockroaches. The only joy in this is the realisation that I’m now much less reactive to them than before. I’ve had a couple in my flat, but the ants have always taken care of them (I’m carefully encouraging insect warfare in my kitchen, I hope it doesn’t backfire…). I wasn’t aware that they could fly. Or how huge they could be. I discovered both facts this weekend as one rather large brown cockroach flew at my head in a friend’s flat. It died shortly afterwards and my reaction was fairly sedate because it happened so quickly, but I had beforehand been blissfully unaware of their aeronautical capabilities. Had I known this the night before when I saw the mother of all cockroachy beasts in the lavatory of the bía hoi [*shudder x 20*] my reaction would probably have been more hysterical.

Appearance. This is really interesting after previously living in a very image-conscious country. Here appearance can be everything and nothing at the same time. People really don’t care what you look like, whilst looking at you fixedly anyway. You can (and people do) wander around in pyjamas. I spend most of my time with my hair in a mess as I’m constantly hopping onto motorbikes, putting my hair up, taking it down, putting on helmets, sweating, getting rained on etc etc, but it doesn’t matter at all. Nobody thinks it worthy of comment or disdain, and I hardly even notice it. The day is more about getting through it alive, as unsick as possible (still a challenge) and dealing with all the demands that living and working here present me with than my coiffure.

A land of contradiction and opposites. Joy and pain in equal amounts over a mere ten minutes.

rất tốt.

Did I mention the rain?

I did. I know I did. But really it’s worth mentioning again, especially as there is a new branch of the Sông Hồng where my street used to be.

I don’t think a camera, in my hands at least, can capture the torrents. At least the motorbike and the car haven’t floated off yet.

My mother told me that they’d had 4 inches of rain in Wales last week. I’m not sure how much that actually is in real terms, but this rain started about twenty minutes ago (after blue skies and harsh sun this morning) and I’m pretty sure that anything measuring four inches would by now have collapsed.

Crikey, a motorbike has made it down the road. It sounded like a laboured jet-ski and it caused waves.

I don’t think I’m going anywhere for a while…

Blue sky a few days ago:

Squatting and socialising (not always simultaneously)

A friend of mine once asked me if I’d seen the “Asian Squat” and then went on to describe and (half) demonstrate it.

This phenomenon (to my western inflexibility) consists of resting ones gluteus muscles on ones ankles and staying put for anything up to 10 hours (possibly more). You see it all over the place – people playing draughts, men smoking and looking thoughtfully across the street, women washing vegetables or peeling fruit, people eating, drinking, cooking, watching the world go by. I’ve seen ancient gentlemen in this position. When I first got here, I was quite often surprised to find a person in a space where a person really couldn’t fit, sat on haunches, peacefully chewing an apple or whatever. It is something which clearly comes in handy when sitting on the little blue plastic chairs that are everywhere. Also when relieving oneself in the bía hoí.* 

Changing the subject…..

Socialising has now started happening. After a bit of a bumpy start and too many episodes of being ill (the most recent being amoebic dysentery of all things – beware of uncooked vegetables), I have finally managed to start spending time with other folk.

Last Saturday was a wonderful evening which ended with a late motorbike trip around the city. The roads were relatively empty but there were occasional pockets of life and hubbub. One street (sadly I forget the name) was Food Central, with little stalls selling pretty much anything you can imagine to eat. We had Pho Bo, which was actually perfect at that time of night, and watched the crowds and bustle around us. This was followed by a bit of trouble finding the lake (my driver hadn’t been in Hanoi for a while and was a tad geographically challenged), a ride around said lake and then over to the other side of the main road to a wholesale fruit market, which seems to be open all night. Riding around that was something special with fresh produce lining the roads and the smell of mint and lemon perfuming the air. Stopping for a final beer at a little stall in the middle of the flower-unloading section completed the evening. Despite the late hour it was as busy as ever and we were not alone at the little blue table (on the little blue chairs) and mirrored on the other side of the road by two slightly overweight men in uniform having tea.

Life is getting better.

*or at least in the bía hois which have designated relieving-yourself facilities, not just up a tiny set of stairs across a tiny living/bedroom (occasionally occupied) to somebody’s tiny bathroom with a suspiciously damp floor.

The rain in…..

Looking out of my window now at shining sun, hearing tweeting birds and general calm, I can hardly believe that yesterday we had thunder, lightning and a river running down my street.

I was first introduced to the May Rains at the weekend. As I finish work at 5.45 pm, the heavens kindly decided to open at about 5.43. Seriously heavy rain ensued. And I mean seriously heavy, the kind that makes your head hurt and your clothes begin to disintegrate. I thought that maybe my xe om would stay at home and not collect me as arranged, but he was there, totally unfazed and complete with a waterproof-cover-everything for me – I didn’t even have a jacket; note to self: look at the weather forecast. We waited until the downpour had slackened to just normal heavy rain and we set off. It was an interesting ride. I’ve never felt waves of warm water sloshing over my beflip-flopped feet before except at the beach, so riding down Lang Ha with waning sun on one side, falling water on my head and traffic surf over my legs was an unusual experience. Not unpleasant, just previously  unknown. It made me smile, at least.

The rain then followed me to the Bía Hoi and, later, home. Despite this I still successfully got delivery food (I had nothing edible in my house) which was not, as expected, damp or late when it arrived. (see previous post for enthusiasm for such things)

 

 

 

 

Two more days of the same happened and more is expected this week. I shall be buying waterproof trousers once I’ve figured out how to.

Contrasts

I live in what is generally referred to as either a “third-world”, or, perhaps more accurately (and certainly more acceptably), a “developing” country.

This means that there are some things which are from a different century in my eyes. And others which are streaking ahead in terms of convenience and development.

Take food. The majority of people shop at the market, some at the supermarket, eat breakfast on the streets and go for tea or coffee. When you eat at the best places (in terms of quality) you are invariably sat on a mini-plastic-chair at a mini-plastic-table. You share your space, your bowl of chopped chilli, the fish sauce, the minced garlic. Chopsticks are rammed in a plastic container (which often falls over) with napkins and toothpicks – open to the elements. EU health regulations have no place here. Tea is kept warm in a pot under a series of blankets or cushions in a special woollen container. One place has one speciality, maybe two.

Western style restaurants are not commonly seen, and, when they are, are very expensive.

But then they have a wonderful, well-into the 21st century invention that is eat.vn. This is a website with a collection of restaurants who deliver. You choose your city and district, and are shown places (that are currently open) of different cuisines to suit any tastes (ironically the Vietnamese food is amongst the most expensive). You order your food, give them some details and wait for it to come.

Genius.

They still do blacksmithing like they did in the 16th Century, but with 21st century electronics and attitude (they hold the mask over the work, not the face).

I have a flat screen television, but the quality of the programmes is terrible. And the cable signal doesn’t really work that well.

Toilet facilities are always an exciting adventure in any given establishment, but if they have karaoke, the sound system will be of the best available, although the singers cannot be considered in the same way…

Maps. Maps. Maps.  Here I discovered how ethnocentric I was in presuming that producing a map to indicate where I wanted to go would make things easier. Reading maps is not common practice over here. It is very western and not that modern in our part of the world, but quite a new idea in SE Asia. Do you remember learning to read a map? Me neither. Try teaching somebody to whom the concept is quite alien. That one is food for thought.

It’s like the best things have been taken on with incredible speed and worked in with everything else, whilst the more questionable aspects of the “West” are still under consideration. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

I’d still go for quality lavatories over karaoke though.