Ho Chi Minh in Ha Noi

OK, so I got to Ha Noi — albeit a little later than I had originally planned — and now I am in Sa Pa (or Sapa).

Apart fom berating myself and feeling stupid, I spent my down time between flights thinking up an awesome blog post about missing flights. Then I landed in Vietnam and suddenly I didn't care any more.

What an amazing place. So much history, nationalistic fervour, and so much traffic!

Ha Noi isn't as big as Bangkok, but it feels like it is. Every square centimetre of space is covered by something: people, motor scooters, chickens, people trying to sell you chickens or rides on motor scooters, and posters of Ho Chi Minh.

I've been fascinated with communist states since my socialist teens back in the 80s. That's right kids, while your parents or big brothers and sisters were out teasing up their hair or buying Bon Jovi tapes to play on their Sony Walkmans, I was dreaming of running away to Moscow or Beijing.

I never thought that the fist communist country I would visit would be Vietnam almost 30 years later.

It's all here — stylised propaganda posters, the hammer and sickle along side the yellow star, and statues of Lenin only outnumbered by those of Uncle Ho.

I went to see Uncle Ho. Perfectly preserved (in appearance anyway) behind glass and six armed guards. A two minute shuffling glimpse fom about ten feet away, after queueing in the Ha Noi morning sun for an hour and a half.

Good experience, but I didn't walk out and run around to join the line again...

Now I'm in Sa Pa. The far North of Vietnam, near the border with China. A sleepy mountain town where tourism is the main trade.

And I do mean trade!

More to come ...

D.

Tonight is my last in Bangkok. I knew three months would go fast, but it really does seem as though I've just settled in and now it's time to go.

People keep asking if I'm coming back — I hope so. At least for a holiday if not to take that job that Expedia offered me — oops! [backspace]

Of course, I still have a whole month of travelling to do through Vietnam and Cambodia! But I have been weighing up the things I'll miss about Bangkok, and the things I have begun to miss about home.

Brisbane — things I miss

1. My family (including Roxy, the dog), and especially my boys. We raised our kids to be independent, but that doesn't mean I don't miss having them around!
2. My friends at the Brisbane office. This is the first time in seven years that I've worked anywhere apart from the Brisbane Wotif office.
3. Being able to give someone a hug. I never know what the protocol is here, so I just resist the urge.
4. Being able to drink water from the tap.
5. Being able to hold a conversation with strangers that consists of more than "hello", "how are you", and "goodbye" (which is the same as hello).
6. Being able to order a meal in English, and know what I'm getting.
7. Blue sky.
8. Footpaths.
9. Being able to cross at a pedestrian crossing without checking for traffic.
10. Rubbish bins.

Brisbane — things I don't miss

1. Roxy's hair on every surface of my house.
2. Taxi fares.
3. The lousy public transport.
4. Boring food.
5. The Valley.
6. Shops that close at 9pm, or even 5.30pm!
7. Actually having your bag checked when you go through customs.
8. No daylight savings.
9. Not having my own pool and gym.
10. Today Tonight.

Bangkok — things I won't miss

1. The heat.
2. The smell of khlongs and drains.
3. Worrying that I don't have enough money on me to bribe a policeman if I need to.
4. Wondering which part of the animal that crunchy bit in my mouth was.
5. Dog poo down every soi.
6. Begging.
7. Saying "not want" to every second person as I walk down a street full of tuk-tuks and bars.
8. Dividing every price I see by 30.
9. Copping an eye- and throat-full of chilli vapour as you walk past a street vendor.
10. Having to go to Starbucks to get a decent coffee.

Bangkok — things I will miss

1. My new friends. Wherever I go in this company, I meet warm, welcoming, and generous individuals.
2. Being able to smile at almost anyone without starting a fight. A beautiful country with (mostly) beautiful, friendly people.
3. Being able to fly to the other end of the country, or even overseas, for $50.
4. Eating lunch for a dollar.
5. Catching a moto-taxi to work every day.
6. Living five minutes' walk from anything you need.
7. Shopping at 7 Elevens.
8. Soi dogs.
9. Markets.
10. Cool bars and restaurants.

Sawasdee khup, Krung Thep. Thanks for having me.

D.

The white stuff

I've mentioned here before that while we in the West busy ourselves with tanning on the beach, in the salon, and from the supermarket aisle, here in Asia it's all about getting pale.

A conversation with a friend here who was heading away to a beach destination for the weekend revealed that she was worried about coming back with her skin darker than it currently was. For one of the only white members of a family of five brothers and sisters (most of them have a lovely olive complexion, as opposed to my pale, pinkish blue aura) this was hard to fathom.

I've spent most of my life envying my sister's beautiful complexion, which despite now living in England, turns a lovely shade of brown whenever she spends more than ten minutes in the sun. My skin turns several shades of bright pink through magenta, dies, and then peels off leaving a freckly, blotchy shade of white.

Freckle-faced and ranga kids of Australia, this is the complexion we were beaten up for and taught to despise all our school years. Over here it's almost a prized possession!

If the aspirations set by billboards and TV ads are anything to go by (and lets hope they're not), the perfect Asian face is one that is barely recognisable as Asian, with a pale, white complexion. Faces all along the highway into Bangkok, Phuket, Chiang Mai, and Kuala Lumpur all stare down through eyes with the faintest hint of Asian.


Does this guy look Thai?

But why? With farangs coming from all over the world to find the loves of their lives, why aren't there posters of beautiful dark skinned Asian faces advertising everything from shoes to Ovaltine?

Look how beautiful these everyday people are!

Buy any sort of cosmetic product that you apply to your skin over here (deodorant, after shave balm, moisturiser, skin whitener) and it will claim to turn you whiter. Like this one:

This one comes with sheep placenta! Mmmm...

In fact, a recent deodorant purchase saw me score a free face wash product, which had the added bonus of whitening. So naturally, I decided to do undertake a scientifically robust experiment to see what effect, if any, it would have on skin that is already melanin-challenged.

The Experiment

I took a before photo, used the face wash every day for the past 25 days, and present to you now the results of this experiment for your own edification.

Before

After

Thanks to www.yearbookyourself.com for the pics.

D.

Taking care of business in Asia

I'm going to touch on a touchy subject, and mention some unmentionables. There, I warned you.

Nobody tells you about the toilets before you go to Asia. I mean, you hear rumours and stories as you catch up with friends who have been there and, well, done it, so to speak. But surely there should be some sort of government warning issued with your passport.

You know the brochure you get telling you how you can be imprisoned for drug trafficking and that some places aren't safe to travel? Well when you turn over to the next page there should be a diagram of what you'll find in a typical Thai or Malaysian toilet, and what you're meant to do with all the things that are in there.

I mean, most people have been going to the toilet by themselves since they were about two or three, so you know the business you're involved in and how to get the job done. But when you walk into the workshop and all the tools have changed, you can hardly be expected to perform to the same standards, can you? Even if the tools are just as effective, or even better, without the proper training, you're bound to at least fail, if not hurt yourself in the attempt.

Now, as a public service to readers of this blog, I provide for you what the Australian Government has failed to provide all these years. Here are three different toilet types you'll find in Asia, and how to negotiate their use.

While this looks like a normal toilet, and is in fact called a "Western toilet" in parts of Asia, looks can be deceiving. "Thank God!" you think (or even say out loud) as you sit on the familiar comfort of a porcelain throne with plastic seat. "I'd heard so many stories about toilets in this country..." But then, probably as your shift is drawing to a close, you notice one of two things: either a total lack of toilet paper, or a sign instructing you not to put toilet paper into the toilet.

I'll deal with the second scenario first. Naturally, your first thought is, "Then where am I supposed to put it?" The answer lies (or at least will if your aim is good) in what you thought was simply a run-of-the-mill waste paper basket. Hm! What an appropriate name. This bin is not for your toenail clippings or Mars bar wrappers, it is for your used toilet paper.

Koalas - the perfect mascot for toilet paper bins.

Like many parts of Europe, sewage systems in Asia are not up to the task of flushing away every item you think you can shove down the toilet — toilet paper, your flat-mate's stash, or the pet python you bought at Chutachuck markets. Therefore, while it may be true that "the job is not over until the paperwork is done", in this case, the paperwork is filed separately.

Now let's go back to scenario one on the Western toilet — no toilet paper at all. As you look around your tiny prison in a rising state of panic, you spot what looks like a tiny hose hanging on the wall behind you. No, this is not a handy mini-shower for those times when you've worked up a sweat, it's a case of wash, not wipe.

There are two things I will say here about the hose — watch your aim (slow and steady with the tap is the best approach as water pressure can vary), and remember that this is cold water (guys, be ready and try not to squeal like a girl).

Next is a hybrid toilet/bidet, with high-tech washing devices for front and back bottoms.

Note that while the instructional icon for the first control can be taken literally, the second cannot.

There's little explanation involved here, but again, don't be too hasty to spin the dial all the way to full until you've tested the pressure it's going to deliver, and see the above note on water temperature.

Now we come to the one that I, personally, dread the most — let's call it "the squatting hole".

The first time I saw one of these was in Korea about 11 years ago, and I thought someone, in a fit of rage, had torn a urinal off the wall and thrown it against the floor so hard that it was embedded there for eternity. You know, someone like Korean Hulk, or Su Per Man. It looked like a sideways, wrong way up toilet on the floor. I thought I had walked into the wee-wees only stall, so I went to the one next door. Same-same.

I don't recall how I reconnoitered my first squatting hole, but I probably held on until I got back to the airport.

Being a lot older and ... older, I now know that you crouch or squat over this hole. This is difficult enough when you don't have old basketball knee injuries and the poise of a hippo on yaa-baa to deal with — add to this the fact that in public toilets, the floor will invariably be "damp", if not soaking wet, with liquids of various colours, consistencies, and cough-inducement-factors. If you are wearing a dress or kilt, I imagine that this poses less of a problem; however in denim shorts, it beats the hell out of me how you're supposed to drop your dacks, balance over the hole while you're at your business, clean up when the task is done, and then leave the cubicle, without walking out looking like the kid from Slumdog Millionaire (you know the part I'm talking about).

To make matters even more challenging, the new piece of toilet hardware that you'd already become used to using in example one (a hose) has now been traded for a 40 litre drum of water, with a small bucket inside. Resist the urge to take the small bucket out, and dangle yourself in the drum of water.

---

Apart from these toilet types, it's also common to have toilets that aren't all that private. Stop on the side of the road at a rest stop with a make-shift eatery, and you're likely to be squatting in a toilet with little or no door, and perhaps a screen between you and the main dining area. I've been to more than one restaurant in rural Thailand where I could wave to restaurant patrons (if I so desired) from the comfort of the men's room. Speaking of which, you may also encounter women cleaning the men's room while you are making use of the facilities.

This toilet is for men and ballet dancers
with short arms and one leg.

Be further warned, gentle reader, that in some shopping centres you may also need to pay a nominal fee to use the facilities — THB2-5, or in Malaysia about RM2. The upside of this is that it usually means you won't have to use a squatting hole, and toilet paper will be provided.

If not, demand a refund and take your business elsewhere!

D.

On a roll

The first thing you notice about dining with Thai people is not the delicious aromas of ... OK, so the second thing you notice about dining at a street food venue or even an office function, is not the unknown hygiene factors of the food's preparation, or even the abundance of sticks (more on this in another post), but the fact that all these people are using toilet paper as serviettes.

When you first walk through the office and spot rolls of toilet paper on people's desks, your first thought (as an Australian) is that they've had a big night out on the lagers and curries the night before.

Or maybe those unknown hygiene factors have caught up with their seemingly indestructible Thai stomach after all! If I'd known the language better when I first arrived, people would have become fed up with me asking them every morning if they were feeling all right.

As I say, it jars a little at first, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Toilet paper is a lot cheaper than tissue paper or serviettes, so why not use it for all your wiping needs?

Of course, in a lot of Asian countries, toilet paper often isn't used in the toilet - more on this in another blog too - so it's more correctly a roll of tissue paper.

I think that when the first farangs turned up with their fancy sit down toilets and rolls of "toilet" paper, Thais thought: "Hey, what a cool idea! Tissues that come in a roll! That's so convenient, and easy to use. I wonder why they keep them next to the dunny though? No wonder they're all so fat if they're hoeing down on fried chicken even when they're on the can!"

I'm pretty sure that's how it happened. In fact, I'm going to go and setup an article for it on Wikipedia now.

D.

PS. If you Westerners are still grossed out by this, just remember, the rolls of toilet paper didn't come out of the toilet, they came from a factory where they make all the other types of tissue paper too.

Walk the talk

As any first year communication student knows, there's more to communicating than just words.

There are cultural differences I'm uncovering here that go beyond language and the way we talk. It's in the expressions, the attitudes, the non-verbal sounds, and even in the way we walk.

For example, it took me a little while to realise that my Thai friends weren't making fun of each other in a conversation when they responded with "Errrrrr. Ehr, ehr." They were agreeing with what was said. Similarly, anyone who who has socialised with a group of Thai people will recognise that "Oiiiiiii!" has nothing to do with 80s punk music, or that annoying "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!" anthem.

In Australia there's a look, combined with a posture and a defiant walk, which you adopt when a car fails to stop at a green "Walk" signal or pedestrian crossing. It's a look of righteous indignation; a purposeful "how dare you!" to the driver of a one tonne vehicle who should know better, and is clearly in the wrong.

Now take exactly the same look and posture, in exactly the same situation, but on the streets of Bangkok, and its meaning is completely different. It means "I'm a stupid farang." Repeat the non-verbal communication a few times in quick succession, and it can come to mean "I will be availing myself of your wonderful healthcare system shortly".

These non-verbal messages can work to your advantage. I think I've become fairly good at not looking like a tourist. Those who are familiar with my loud shirt collection may disagree, however there's definitely certain non-verbal cues you can adopt if you don't want to look like a sucker, and I am willing to share my insights with you here, gentle reader.

A work colleague recently mentioned standing in public looking at an open map as a dead giveaway. This, along with the loud Hawai'ian shirt and camera around the neck, are obvious clues - so obvious I'm not going to mention them. Whoops, too late.

Of course there are times when you want to be a tourist and enjoy the new experience, but if you'd like to be able to walk down the tourist strip (or out of the airport) without being accosted by tuk-tuk drivers and people expounding the joys of table tennis exhibitions, there is a walk and an attitude that you can adopt.

Start with a lack of eye contact and don't look at your surroundings. Even if you've never been to this place before, look down at the ground where you going, or better still, straight ahead. Pretend you're walking home after a long day at work, and all you want to do is get home.

You can comfortably glance at the things around you as you walk, but your walk is purposeful. You're not browsing at the Sunday markets (even if you are actually browsing at the Sunday markets), you're headed somewhere.

There's no need to be rude or aggressive, it's more an attitude of boredom. Act like you've been here a thousand times before, and are just on your way through once again on your way somewhere, so not really looking to buy any Viagra or Sponge Bob Square Pants items today. The non-verbal message you're sending is that anyone wanting to sell something is better off approaching the couple behind you arguing about whether it really was Tiffany at that last stall, and that even if it was Tiffany, you still could have talked him down a bit more.

I have survived many forays into markets, airports, shopping centres, and unlit alleyways with this method, and have lived to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop me from buying a lot of crap though.

D.

2011, a space for oddity

From my Sunday journey to the shops on the BTS (train) today, here are a few more Bangkok oddities I noticed.

1. Whitening cream

While fake tans and brown skin is all the rage with the ladies back home, here it's all about looking white. Corrective eye surgery I'd heard about, but there were several ads on the train today for whitening cream, to make your skin look paler. Seems the grass is always whiter on the other side.

2. Coconut

You can get coconut in many different forms here in Thailand. Coconut oil, coconut milk, coconut cream, coconut paste, fresh coconut, green coconut milk still in the coconut served with a straw...

The one thing I haven't been able to find is dessicated coconut. From as far back as I can remember, we have always had a packet of dessicated coconut in the cupboard. How else do you make slices, biscuits, cakes, etc? Sadly, the little kiddies of Bangkok may never know the joy of coconut ice.

3. Bananas

Bananas are very cheap here - you can buy them from a lot of street vendors either chopped up, roasted over coals, cooked into pancakes, or served with sticky rice. But when you buy them from the super market, they not only come like Laura Palmer - wrapped in plastic - but they also come like Lady Gaga - wrapped in tape.

4. Mr Broomy

Every kid in Australia knows about Mr Whippy or the ice cream man - a dude who cruises around the streets on hot afternoons or weekends ringing a bell or playing Green sleeves (or some other song he doesn't have to pay royalties for) and all the kiddies come running out clutching their pocket money or dragging the parents in tow, to get an ice cream.

In Bangkok they have Mr Broomy. A dude riding something that's part bicycle, part shopping trolley filled with brooms, brushes, dust pans, and other manual sweeping implements. He cruised the streets around my soi on a hot Bangkok morning, honking a little bike horn with a tyre pump attached to it, to let everyone know Mr Broomy was there.

I didn't see any kids chasing him down the soi, but maybe they were all still finding their pocket money.

5. Coffee

Many things labelled "coffee", and even "best coffee in Bangkok" don't necessarily taste like coffee, and may in fact taste like "worst coffee in world".

D.

A path for my feet

Philosophically, I am opposed to the encroachment of US English into the Australian vocabulary. But I have to say that in Bangkok, "sidewalk" is a much more appropriate term than "footpath".

There are very few roads that have any sort of path for either foot, let alone both feet. Most of the time, you just walk to the side of whatever thoroughfare you are on.

As soon as you turn off the main road and onto a Soi (small street), you find yourself dodging and weaving, trying to stay out of the way of on-coming, off-coming, sideways coming traffic, and there may or may not be a raised area at either side of the Soi for you to walk on.

Even if there is, this sidewalk will be broken in places, non-existent in others, and when it is in good repair, you will still have to wander onto the road at times to avoid food vendors, parked motorbikes, and scuffling stray dogs.

Even sidewalk doesn't really cover it, because where it does exist, it's not just used for walking. On main roads, where there is what you may consider to be a dedicated footpath, you will have to share this with scooters and mopeds ferrying people to work or the train.

On several occasions I have been beeped at (it's more of a beep than a honk usually) to get out of the way, because I wasn't looking behind me to see whether a motorbike needed to get past me on the footpath. Sidewalk. Raised concrete area at the side of the road for pedestrians, street vendors and motorbikes. Doesn't really roll off the tongue does it?

The other problem I've encountered as I walk the streets (whether on the side or not) is that even though they drive on the left-hand side of the road in Thailand, they appear to walk on the right-hand side. If I'm passing someone coming the other way, my natural instinct is to move to the left, but they move to the right - which of course is my left - and while we do a little dance, nobody makes a little love, and nobody gets down tonight.

I just end up trying to remember how to say sorry before they move on, and am left mumbling something that probably translates into Thai as "no horse biscuits for me please".

The really surprising thing again is that it all just works. No-one is shouting at anyone else to get out of the way, there aren't thousands of daily traffic casualties, and people still get where they're going.

My Thai isn't very good (nit noi), but I haven't once heard someone yell "Hey! I'm walkin' here!"

D.