A time in Vietnam

Having arrived in Vietnam after two years in Australia, it came as no surprise that culture, driving etiquette, costs and climate were really very different up here in South East Asia.

For me, one of the truly eye opening aspects of traveling is finding a blend of the comfortingly familiar, the wildly different and exploring that ever changing grey area of what once seemed familiar, but now makes you think twice, and what was previously entirely unusual, but you can now understand and feel at ease with. But sometimes one can make observations, followed by well-judged assumptions and conclusions that can be all of a sudden blown straight out of the window by a single incident.

After a number of hours in Saigon, my brother and I embarked on a wholly successful shopping, eating and general reconnaissance mission through district 1, and despite the wise purchases, added feeling of geographical bearings and a satisfyingly sated appetite, I can't help thinking the highlight of the day’s trip was witnessing some stand-out local behaviour. Now, aside from a couple of noticeable traits- regular inability to recognise the simple functions of fairness provided by a que and mid-conversation snorting and hacking up of phlegm- I would say that the Vietnamese are in no way rude or lacking in humility or respect for fellow members of the public. In fact, I would easily say that they're some of the most friendly, helpful and considerate people I have been lucky enough to meet, which is what makes this even more of a choice moment for me and Harv to have been privileged enough to witness:
Like any sensible human being, when walking past a public toilet in a pretty little park alongside a main street in an unfamiliar city, I thought to myself "how long will it be until I see another one of these? Should I part with some of my hard-earned petty cash in exchange for some light relief now, or should I wait until we inevitably stop for a drink somewhere and I can rinse the facilities in chosen establishment for all they're worth?”. In this instance I went with the latter and continued approximately seven meters down the street only to see (what I assume is) a local gentleman stood, in broad daylight, knob out, just pissing into one of the decorative flower beds, no more than actual spitting distance from the toilets. "That's how you do it", I thought, "this guy does not give a fuck", and all of my pre-conceived cultural judgments up to this point suddenly became meaningless.