Coming Home

It is hard to believe that this is my last evening in Vietnam and that tomorrow morning I will be leaving steamy noisy Saigon for the last time.  After being away for 3 ½ months in two days’ time I will be home.  Here are some of the many things I’ve learned over the course of my trip to Indochina.

1.       Always take a spare inner tube and some tyre levers when you are motor-biking somewhere remote. 

2.       The Vietnamese people are generally incredibly friendly and helpful, provided you are prepared to smile and engage and behave respectfully. 

3.       Two very useful hand signs.  When a Vietnamese person sticks their hand out to you, palm down, and flaps their fingers it only looks as if they are waving you goodbye.  In fact they are saying ‘come here’.  Yes, very confusing.  The other gesture is even more useful to know and was taught to me by a nice chap from Hong Kong on the bus from Saigon airport the very first day I arrived in Vietnam.  If you splay your fingers out and wiggle your hand (i.e. thumb and little finger in opposite directions), it feels as if you are saying ‘Not sure, I’ll have to think about that.  Maybe.’  To a Vietnamese person, however, it means simple ‘No thanks,’ which is a very useful substitute for having to speak every time someone offers you their motorbike taxi, a rickshaw, a massage etc. 

4.       Too many people in the world have empty mindless jobs: security guards, roadside stall holders with no customers, bellboys, but more than this, the poor unemployed who sit around all day with nothing to do.  Hell on earth.

5.       Driving in Vietnam is not for the faint-hearted.  There are no road rules and precious little signage.

6.       Having been in Vietnam for a while one sees more clearly than ever that British health and safety concerns are waaay over-the-top (give someone a little bit of power and by god they will be sure to use it) but Vietnam could probably do with a few more concerns of its own.

7.      UK travel advice can also be a bit hysterical.  When I think of all the things I was warned could happen to me!  Maybe they all are possibilities, but here in Vietnam life is more concerned with probabilities.  In any event, in future I shall be more wary about buying expensive anti-malarial medication.  I have been in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia for 3 months and have not had one mosquito bite.  Not one.  Yet I paid £212 for anti-malaria pills and a further £140 for two injections against mosquito-borne Japanese encephalitis.

8.       Vietnam is a beautiful and varied country, with cold wet mountains and steamy hot jungles, filthy noisy cities, serene villages and long beaches.  There is so much more to explore. 

9.       The Vietnamese population has a lot to learn about energy conservation and pollution.  There appears to be no consciousness that littering ultimately destroys one’s own environment.  People commonly chuck their rubbish (eh, vomit on one occasion) out the window, over the side of the boat, into the sea or wherever they happen to be standing, without a thought.  It is a great shame.

10.   Noise pollution is not even on the radar.  One day there will be legislation to cause buses and lorries to drive more safely and less noisily and there will even be a ban on using horns at night.  But this is a long way off.  People in Vietnam rarely seem to mind how loud everything is.

11.   Speaking of which, hotels and guest houses could be much improved if they had less muzak and vacuous pop music blaring everywhere and almost all the time (and if they could just give some thought to room lighting which is usually hopeless). 

12.   The concept of going for a walk appears to be entirely foreign to the Vietnamese who could never understand why I might prefer to walk when I had a motorbike to carry me.  When I explained that in Ang (England) we sometimes enjoy going for walks in the hills on the weekend, I was met with frowning incredulity.

13.   Indochina’s history is as brutal and complicated as Europe’s with centuries of territorial wars.

14.   The food in Viet Nam is wonderful, maybe a bit high on protein, but generally delicious. And the fruit…!

15.   In future I shall be more careful about the massages I have, and will do my best not to gate-crash funerals.

16.   Being away from ‘normal life’ perhaps always allows a person to see it more clearly and appreciate how lucky they are.  I suppose, more than anything, this is what I was looking for in going away for such a long time – to be able to see and feel again, to notice the everyday taken-for-granted aspects of my life in England, things that have become routine or familiar. That and the time to think.  It is obviously hard to perceive the blindingly obvious.  But there is one thing about which I have no illusions – I am incredibly fortunate to have had this extraordinary adventure.

Cultural faux-pas

We're now in Phu Quoc, an island off the coast of Cambodia and Vietnam, claimed by both but currently governed by Vietnam.  We're staying just behind a palm fringed white beach in a hut wih mosquito nets and no aircon but the breakfasts are good.  We were the first to eat this morning, along with families with small children who’d probably been up at the crack of dawn.  It then began to rain and we waited a couple of hours while a thunderstorm engulfed us.  It fairly poured down and there was no possibility of going anywhere.  But by 11 it had cleared and we walked all the way into town, the temperature quickly getting hotter and steamier.  We walked by the docks where the river opens into the sea and made our way back along the river into the town's market which runs beside the river.  We were unable to find any street food until we saw some women cooking on one side of the street and some men sitting, eating and drinking spirits, on the other side of the road.  I assumed this to be a café of sorts though did note several men and women in unusual white clothes with odd hats which I took to be a religious sect (I could see a shrine in the building next to where the men were eating).  So we rather sheepishly stood around waiting for someone to ask us to sit until one of the men at the table instructed us to do just this. I walked across the road and looked at what the women were cooking and began tentatively pointing.  They set about preparing a huge meal for us – delicious pork dish, another pork stir-fry with vegetables and some bitter-tasting veg that looked a cross between a courgette and a cucumber, stuffed with, I think, more (ground) pork.  As soon as we were seated again a man at the next table produced a shot glass of the spirit they were drinking which I sipped politely till instructed to knock the whole thing back in one go.  I did this, whereupon another glass appeared which I successfully drank in one draft.  Rather like sake so presumably a rice wine; potent though.  Delicious food.  Very humid weather.  Another glass appeared and then the oldest man at the table stood before me and appeared to drink my health by knocking back another glassful before passing me yet another.  I stood and drank his health and consumed the glassful, wondering where this was going and beginning to feel just a bit tipsy. 

Soon we were finished our meal and I gesticulated to the chap I assumed to be the waiter for the bill but he indicated that there was nothing to pay. I must have looked perplexed because he then took me to the shrine next door where I saw the face of an old lady behind the incense. It then dawned on me that we had gate-crashed a funeral wake and that probably the old man was this woman’s widower.  I knew that people in the orient wear white at times of death and sadness but it hadn’t occurred to me.   I was given some joss sticks to place in front of her photo and I bowed a few times before insisting they take some money. It turned out they were keeping a book of donations so mine was gratefully received and duly recorded so I didn’t feel quite so bad. I blushingly returned to the table, saying ‘sinloi’ (sorry) a load of times. But there was no bad feeling at all, just amusement at our folly. The old man stood up smiling and shook my hand, thanking me, as some of the other men did and the old chap asked for his photo to be taken with me which Kate duly did. Culturally interesting at so many levels but I did feel a bit of a chump!

Tea With a Communist + Boring Ha Tien

Well today I shall be writing a blog entry after much demand from Zoe and mum back home. Apparently we've been bad correspondents so I'd better get writing!

From My Tho and the floating house we took a boat, then motorbike, then 2 1/2 hour bus to Can Tho which is the largest city in the Mekong delta although didn't feel too big after being somewhere like Saigon. It had a nice feel with a long waterfront with women always trying to get you to go on their boats to the floating markets.

We stayed three nights in Can Tho in the end(after contemplating  Sa Dec, Vinh Long and Chau Doc but we thought they were too tricky to get to) in a nice 'resort' outside the main town where locals tend to spend their weekends, fishing in the pond, eating in the nice restaurant(man they had a good avocado milkshake- and I don't even like avocado!) and, ofcourse, making the most delightful sounds using karaoke.

The first morning we woke up pretty darn early (5:15am) in order to take a small boat, with an utterly hopeless guide, to visit the two floating markets nearby as well as a rice noodle factory which was fascinating. The markets weren't as impressive as we had imagined but cool anyway, and the small canals that we went through were really beautiful.

 Our boat driver, much more competent than our guide, somehow whipped up this amazing plant thing whilst driving the boat out of some bamboo she just picked up.

Our guide told us what a pineapple was.



The rice noodle factory

In the afternoon we trecked in the swealtering heat to have a blind massage which was ok. Very cheap (£1.50 for an hour) but they were chatting away the whole time so not sure it was the mooost relaxing of massages!

Our second day in Can Tho we rented bikes and were trying to find some more small canals when we met Thinh(man, slightly geeky but very nice, 30, maths lecturer at Can Tho university) and Hanh(woman, 57) outside their houses who invited us back for tea that afternoon. She couldn't resist touching my white skin, the poor lady, she was just overwhelmed by my beauty! lol.

Hanh's house, obvs

So after cycling a bit (I still have bruises on my butt from lack of suspension and the poor paths) and getting over heated, we headed back to Hanh's house where we sat in her impressive front room (obviously showing off) and ate mango from trees in her garden, and pomelo, which I can now officially say I like. Kind of odd because only Thinh could speak English but when we found out Hanh used to work for the communist party we were like oooooohh, so that's why you have such a big house and impressive furniture. It was a really great experience, just to see inside a person's house and they were really lovely. Even the old uncle of Hanh said Dad looked older than his age. So charming the Vietnamese.

The next day we took a loooong journey (5 1/2 hours in total) on the bus to Ha Tien where we would catch the Superdong hydrofoil to Phu Quoc. We stayed 2 nights in this ghost resort with nothing really to do apart from a dirty pool. But we met a nice French couple who were the only other people there and who apparently had seen us in Can Tho as they were staying in the same resort. (they paid 2 million dong to get to Ha Tien though and we only paid 280,00. Yes!) Well, in fact I didn't think they were thaaat nice because we went out for a meal with them and I practically didn't say a word as they were just talking about politics and stuff I had no clue about but ahh well.  So odd as well, the lady asked Dad about me. She was like 'And Kate?' WHY DON'T YOU ASK ME YOU SILLY LADY! I must say, I am getting a little sick of everyone always talking to dad and ignoring me but I think it's because he's a man and he's older.

And now we're in Phu Quoc island which is just swell. There are a LOT of tourists and the beach we're staying on is covered in resort after resort but it's still really nice and you can't argue with sleeping less than 100 metres from the beach! Really cheap and yummy seafood here too and by jove did we have a nice breakfast just now!

Anyhoo, had better get on that sand and enjoy the weather (actually today it's raining...) so I'll stop writing now. Sorry if this blog entry has been really long and boring, kind of ranting here but oh well. Byeee
 xoxo
Gossip Girl

Mekong Delta

We spent our first couple of nights in the Mekong Delta on a pretty floating house on the river near the town of My Tho.  Pretty basic what with bamboo walls, ceiling and floor so no protection from mosquitoes but thankfully there weren’t any to speak of.  It felt like living on a waterbed for two nights.  We then each took a motorbike taxi to a bus which took us to Can Tho, the main town in the delta where we are now.  We were up at 5.15 this morning to go off to see a couple of floating markets – Cai Rang and Phuong Dien but the tour also included visiting a rice noodle factory which I found fascinating.  We also got to try a huge number of different fruits: jackfruit, mango, longan, dragon fruit, banana, papaya, pineapple, pomelo (large grapefruit), something which sounded like ‘lachrymose’,  water coconut and star apple.  Extraordinary variety here.  Mangoes are just coming into season.  Some of the smaller canals are astonishingly beautiful. 

This was our floating house on the Mekong

Floating markets

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Kate and I have spent a truly memorable day visiting the amazing 12th century temples collectively known as Angkor Wat.  Angkor Wat really refers to the best preserved and most holy of the Hindu temples (now Buddhist) built by emperor Suryavarman II who “unified Cambodia and extended Khmer influence across much of Southeast Asia” (to quote Lonely Planet).  It is essentially a huge square plot of land with the temple in the middle, surrounded by a 190 meter wide moat.  It was built at the same time that some of the most famous gothic cathedrals of Europe (Notre Dame, Chartres) were being built.  Not only is the scale of the place truly astonishing, it is the intricate stone carvings of battles and Hindu gods throughout.  We are staying in Siem Reap, the nearby town devoted to feeding and watering the increasing numbers of tourists.  Siem Reap, if translated literally, means rather tactlessly Siamese Defeated, in commemoration of a battle with the Thais.  Honestly, Indochina is little different from Europe with its long history of nations (Khmers, Viets, Chams, Siamese, Lao, Chinese) endlessly battling one another for land.  

Ta Prohm

It’s great to have someone to share all these things with, not to mention share meals with.  I find we’re naturally spending longer over meals than I did when I was eating alone.  Good nosh in Cambodia too – last night we had Amok, fish cooked in banana leaf.

Me and my girl

Steamy Quy Nhon

The view from my room

This is the last week that I’ll have on my own (Kate arrives on Sunday) but I’ve enjoyed staying in my comfortable hotel overlooking the beach.  The beach is very inviting with golden sand, the colour of cornflakes, but unfortunately the weather has been overcast, even rainy at times, but this has meant that I’ve actually managed to get on with a bit of writing at last.  I’ve taken a couple of walks along the beach into town.  Quite a few young pre-teenagers stopped me with their Hellos and asked if I’d appear in their photos.  So then they all whip out their mobile phones, stand around me and have their photo taken.  What they then do with their photos I simply can’t imagine.  Very few tourists here so the local people are very friendly with some who spontaneously wave and smile.  It's lovely.  Why can't we be like this at home?

I turned the tables on this group and took their pic

The Seagull Hotel is the blueish one in the background

But despite having had a relatively quiet week, it all heated up a bit this afternoon when I decided to have a sauna and massage in the hotel’s facility.  It was the first sauna I have come across in Vietnam other than my entire stay in Saigon which felt like one long sauna.  Before being allowed to use the sauna (which was still heating up) I was shown into an adjoining steam room.  Here steam was being pumped through what appeared to be a huge bunch of spinach; it certainly gave the room a slight smell of rotting vegetables.   After the sauna and a shower I was shown to a room where a young woman gave me a fairly hopeless massage by Vietnamese standards – the ones I’ve had have all been different, but on the whole pretty good.  On the other hand this one was surprisingly cheap, only 110,000 dong (just over £3) for an hour.  Anyway, at the end of the massage the young woman offered to… well, how shall I put this… use her hand to finish me off.  It was the first proposition of this sort I have had (though I had read about this kind of thing).  Naturally I said “I’m sorry I am British.  We don’t do sex”, an old chestnut of a joke that came to me during one of my NZ talks where it went down a treat.  Today it fell rather flat with the poor young woman who of course didn’t understand a word.  She looked a bit crestfallen when it was clear that I was declining her kind offer, disappointed I suppose not to be getting a big tip.  Socially an unusual situation to find oneself in, but I hope it’s not put me off massages which I think are great, though I’ll admit that it’s taken me a while to overcome my silly latent feelings that to pay for a massage is all a bit sleazy (after all one is paying to be given sensual pleasure, which is not a million miles from paying for sex).  Harriet has asked me how much the young woman was charging for this extra service (perhaps seeing a market opportunity in the UK?).  Sadly in my awkwardness I failed to ask.  Maybe next time.