Understanding a Culture through Food - "Pho ga"

lucyellensteadman — Mon, 1 Apr 2013 12:24:09 GMT

I exited the hotel and meandered down the steps to the narrow yet bustling street before me. At the bottom, I paused to absorb Hanoi for the first time.

Above me, a tangled web of powerlines cascaded between ragged grey buildings. Already, Vietnam was so different to Australia. Closing my eyes, I drew a long breath.

A smell. I couldn’t pick it. The scent didn’t match the street – it was pungent and mouth-watering. I scrunched my face, focusing on the teasing aroma.

A sharp beep snapped me conscious, and I stumbled precariously as a motorbike zipped past. Heart racing, I watched dumbfounded as it sped off and eased through people and traffic. Driving in Hanoi was an intricate dance.

The bike revealed my answer though. I could see the source of the scent - bursts of colour contrasting the grey buildings around me. Food!

I walked eagerly, and soon the street was abundant with fresh produce. Elderly women bounced babies on their laps while greeting hungry customers – or where they friends? It was impossible to tell.

My hunger thrived as I continued on. KFC’s were out of place and there was no McDonald’s, but almost every shop had a makeshift stove outside with cliques of locals huddling on tiny plastic chairs.

I had to laugh. I’d seen these chairs at home, but they were the kind that kids used playing musical chairs at birthday parties.

A group of pho-eating locals looked at me, and my face burned. Throughout the walk people had stared at my skin and whispered about my height.

Nervously, I joined them. I carefully lowered myself into the miniature chair. They stared, but all I could think of was whether the seat would snap under my weight.

“Xin Chao. Pho bo? Pho ga?” a woman said.

I looked up and thought of my phrase book. That means hello.

“Xin Chao,” I replied with a smile. Do I want beef or chicken pho?

“Pho ga.”

The group chuckled at my accent but continued talking. I relaxed and watched on. The woman served the pho promptly, and gestured to the seasonings. Squeeze the lime there. Don’t forget the chilli!

I pulled a heaping of food to my mouth. It was piping hot, spicy, and a hint of citrus cut through the chicken. It was delicious.

The others smiled warmly as they ate. Maybe it was the chilli that put red in their cheeks, but I felt welcome.

I ate slowly as I listened to endless horns and watched tourists fumble travel guides. Unbeknownst to them, all they had to do to experience Vietnam was pull up a little plastic chair.

Photos: The Locals of Kenh Ga

lucyellensteadman — Mon, 3 Dec 2012 21:44:00 GMT

I’ve always wanted to be a photojournalist – a cliché way to begin, but it’s true. I’m a 20-year-old studying a Bachelor of Communication/Journalism at The University of Queensland. I’ve always lived in Brisbane, but I’ve travelled through Australia, America, Europe, New Zealand, and Asia. My everyday life consists of studying, exercise, and seeing friends and family – a fairly typical life for someone my age – and my passions are travel, journalism, photography, culture, and art. I’ve always wanted a career in travel photography, but haven’t known how to pursue it; it has always seemed too good to be true. Recently, I visited Hanoi, Halong Bay, and Ninh Binh in Vietnam on a university reporting trip. I spent 10-days documenting the country and feel I got a true taste of travel photography. I was lugging tripods and Canon cameras around cities and it was worth every minute. I love photography because it adds to and frames perfect moments, it can evoke raw emotions that text cannot, and it creates something out of nothing. This is why I want to pursue this career. I want to transport people to scenes they cannot witness, and ignite emotions within them. This is what I want to do.