Same Same But Different

A monsoon melodrama

stephen_wright — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 13:57:00 GMT

Today I left my students apartment at 6pm to find that it had started raining while I was inside. Luckily I had pre-empted this and parked my bike under cover. Unfortunately, the parking attendants were up to their old tricks and had moved my bike into the rain. In doing so they had also knocked my helmet and by the time I arrive it was full to the brim with dirty rainwater. Shuddering I slung the damp container on my head and put on my sexy blue poncho.

Out of all the rain gear in the world the half-dollar poncho is probably the least effective. It’s about as useful as a one legged man in an arse kicking competition. The ponchos principal design fault is that as you ride, rainwater collects in the valley created between your legs so that if you move even the slightest big a gushing torrent is released down you legs. The other problem is that they don’t cover your legs so any puddle will splash all the way up your trousers as you drive through it.

By the time I got on the motorway into the city centre it was already half flooded and the rain wasn’t showing any sign of letting up. To make matters I was driving against the wind and slanted rain, which made it painful to open my eyes for fear of being stuck by one of the needle like drops. I had purchased a helmet with a visor to prevent exactly this but after a recent bodged repair job involving a strong adhesive the visor had become thoroughly stuck in an upright position. Effectively I was armed with two pieces of equipment both equally poor at doing their job against a Vietnamese monsoon.

At this point I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and had resorted to laughing hysterically in an effort to forget my uncomfortable predicament. Matters were not made better by the smug business man who overtook me dressed hear to toe in full waterproofs. He had that “I own an Apple macbook and am using it in a coffee shop to my travel blog” smug about him that I am experiencing right now. Being on the receiving end of this smug made me angry and jealous proportions.

What if Apple made ponchos….I began to wonder but then was rudely awoken from my Silicon Valley daydream by some young hooligans who had taken it upon themselves to make everyone’s live a misery by driving through the flooded section of the road sending a wave of filth our way. One of the two bikes had a sleeping passenger on the back so I took it upon myself to follow and honk obnoxiously until he had risen from his adolescent slumber.

It suddenly dawned on me that some people might have been even less equipped then I was for this monsoon madness. I looked around and noticed a schoolgirl who couldn’t have been more then twelve years old cycling an ancient rusty bike into the slanted rain. She didn’t have a poncho and her uniform was soaked through. She wore an expression of pure misery and I momentarily forgot my own discontent. But moments later I moved my leg and unleashed the valley of water that had collected in my poncho – I quickly went back to my self –pity and drove the rest of the way home feeling thoroughly miserable.

Eight simple things

stephen_wright — Wed, 8 Jul 2009 02:40:00 GMT

Everything in Vietnam is fast-paced: traffic moves fast, economies grow quickly, buildings are thrown up in months and the weather changes in a blink of an eye. While for the most part living in such a rapidly changing environment is very exciting, it is an unfortunate side-effect that I’ve found my mood swinging like a pendulum at an equally accelerated pace.

I’ve never really suffered from mood swings before so in order to keep a rational grasp on matters I’ve decided to compile a list of things I love and things I hate about living in Vietnam.

LOVE

PHO – Before I moved here I was concerned that I wouldn’t like the local cuisine because I presumed it would contain a lot of seafood and fish. I was right, but fortunately Vietnam’s national dish “pho” is a beef noodle soup and is delicious. It is available everywhere from street vendors to high-class establishments and ordering it remains one of the only things that I can do through Vietnamese.

Driving – Saigon is famous for its millions of motorbikes and there is no more iconic place to drive one then here. I love zipping around on my Honda Wave because I fit in with everyone else: I am transformed from a tall, lanky obvious white pedestrian to small, inconspicuous, black Japanese motorcycle and can flow freely in the traffic without hassle (apart from the occasional police officer out to make an easy dollar).

Students – Having taught a range of kids, everything from French to Uzbekistani, I can honestly say that Vietnamese students are the nicest I’ve encountered. Even if they don’t want to learn they are polite enough to hide it and that’s something I really appreciate.

Coffee – I didn’t drink coffee before I left the UK, but I sure as hell do now! It’s a little known fact that Vietnam is the second big coffee exporter in the world and I have come to see why. I usually drink Café Sua Da which translates literally as “Iced Coffee with Milk”, in this case condensed milk. This sweet concoction is more like a strong Italian desert than a coffee but I have come to both love it and rely on it to get my through my long weekends teaching four to ten year-olds.

HATE

Heat – When I first arrived here from the wintery wastelands of the UK I was delighted to find a deliciously warm environment that was hot but not unbearable. Unfortunately, it is now wet season and the temperature is 34+ degrees everyday. This kind of heat combined with high humidity makes any kind of outdoor activity impossible. Even walking is unpleasant and as a result I end up driving everywhere. Maybe it’s something I need to acclimatise further to but at present I find it too hot to handle.

The traffic – I mentioned earlier that I love driving here, I do not however like how anyone else drives. To pass your driving test in Vietnam you need to simply drive your bike in a figure of eight, even with such an easy test the majority of drivers are unlicensed and every Tom, Dick and Harry (I should really say Tien, Dat and Hieu) has a motorbike. The other day I saw a pregnant lady sitting side-saddle on the back of a really old Honda Cubb with her ten-year-old son driving, neither of them had helmets but both had a death-wish.

Dishonesty – This is something that you only notice after living here for a while but it’s something that has really come to bother me. Some differences are to be expected and can be overcome. For example, being offered goods at twice the price they should be but this can me amended through haggling. However, pure cheating with no sign of shame or guilt is something I cannot expect. From expensive surprises such as rigged taxi meters and the recent burglary of my house to small inconveniences to such as people pushing in lines and being served last in a shop. Even the kids in school, particularly the older ones, appear to have no shame about cheating and cutting any corner possible. Today I caught one student trying to cheat on three separate occasions during the same five-minute activity.

Lack of greenery – I sometimes have to pinch myself to remind me that outside Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam is a beautiful and green country. This city is many things both good and bad (sprawling, unrelenting and smelly all spring to mind) but green it is not. The greenest it gets are the tree left over from the French colonial period that line the main roads and the occasional socialist park full of people doing synchronised exercise in. At home I live opposite a park and although I rarely actually venture in there, it’s reassuring to know that it’s there if I need it, a reassurance that I lack here.

Four Seasons Good, Two Seasons Bad

stephen_wright — Wed, 3 Jun 2009 21:55:00 GMT

On November 19th 2008, I boarded a plane from Heathrow destined for Ho Chi Minh City. At the time I was wearing a jacket and scarf which, have not been worn since. Living in a tropical climate while my friends and family moaned and groaned about the harsh British winter was brilliant but now that winter has passed and spring has become summer I have little left to be smug about. Southern Vietnam experiences very little seasonal temperature change. It has a tropical, hot and humid, climate, and has only two real seasons - the monsoon season and the dry season. When I arrive in November the dry season was just beginning and until April I experienced pretty much eternal sunshine. Incredibly, during this time I managed to avoid getting any kind of visible tan! While the Vietnamese spend a lot of their time protecting themselves form the sun and avoiding a tan, I have tried to maximize my exposure with little to no effect. Come April the monsoon season started and brought with it lots of rain, heat and regular floods. May bought even more rain and floods: busy streets started transforming into rivers within an hour and then be back to a street thirty minutes later. Its now June and the rain is becoming more regular and poring down in greater quantities, this has left me wondering whether a tropical climate is all that’s it’s cracked up to be! Aside from the flash floods, intense humid heat and plague of mosquito’s that accompany this, the thing that I have found most disappointing about living in a tropical climate is the absence of that special “summer feeling”. The weather is one of the few things that is universal (hence why people make so much small talk about it) so having endured a tough British winter there is regularly a universal feeling of euphoria when the first rays of sunshine slowly break through the epidermis of cloud cover as if by osmosis. People instantly grab shorts, barbeques and frisbees and migrate towards the nearest grass to wallow in the glorious British summer. White this jubilation spreads though the UK the only thing spreading itself through Vietnam is dirty flood water and dengue fever carried by the mosquito’s that live in it. Therefore, I have come to the Orwellian conclusion of four seasons good, two seasons bad. That is, at least until its dry seasons again…

Travel-Sick

stephen_wright — Tue, 12 May 2009 21:16:00 GMT

Travel-Sick

Being sick is never fun but there is nothing worse then being sick away from home. You may think I am using this as a figure of speech but I genuinely believe that being really sick in an unfamiliar environment is a highly traumatising experience, for everyone involved. Just think of all the things that are important to you when your sick: a plentiful supply of ready-meals, constant repeats of Top Gear on Dave TV, free healthcare curtsy of the NHS and most important a toilet in close proximity (that can flush); all these things are not guaranteed when you travel.

Thankfully I have been here long enough to have found myself lodgings with a sanitary toilet and have a stack of copied DVDs ready to be watched (half of which don’t work but that’s beside the point). With my “sick in Vietnam” survival kit I thought I was ready for anything, however, I underestimated just how much uncertainty plays into how sick you feel. When last Monday I started getting stomach cramps it didn’t worry me, “I must have just eating something off” I told myself. Over the following days I too convinced myself that the constant fatigue, head spinning and even the mysterious blue bruise on my right arm were all just a coincidence and would soon go away. It wasn’t until Friday afternoon when aching bones was added to the symptoms that I began to worry.

I struggled into work on Saturday morning and found myself sat in a tiny non-air-conditioned room giving one-to-one speaking tests to six year olds. As the morning progressed I found myself becoming less bothered about the addition of “s” to verbs in the third person and more concerned about getting through the two hours without projectile vomiting all over my students. If I had indeed died in that room while doing the test I have no doubt that the student would have diligently sat there waiting for the next question until someone discovered my cold stiff body.

I spend the rest of Saturday lying in my own misery, comforted only by fifteen back-to-back episodes of Lost. Come Sunday morning I felt just as bad and decided a visit to a doctor was necessary. While I didn’t want to spend too much money the though of being completely lost in translation didn’t appeal, so I went to an international health clinic and prepared myself to part with some serious Dong.

As I lay on the examination bed describing my symptoms to the doctor I could see his eyebrows getting higher and higher with alarm but it was not until the mention of a “mysterious blue bruise on right arm” that he grabbed a facemask and forced it on me. They then set about poring liquids into me with one tube and extracting blood with another.

I think the alarm bells were ringing because a lot of the symptoms I described were similar to that of Swine Flu. I am convinced that all the publicised illnesses start off with the same symptoms (vomiting, headaches, stiffness etc..), no doubt when Mutton Meningitis breaks out we will also be warned to watch for these seemingly universal symptoms.

After being drained of blood and pumped with water the doctors demanded I secrete numerous bodily liquids into an array of pots which all had my name nearly printed on them. After this ordeal I lay on the hard surgery bed waiting to be prescribed with some deadly disease. It was almost disappointing to be told that they couldn’t find anything wrong with me and I should go home and rest, but of course, not before I paid them in full for every test they had run. I am now a firm believer in the NHS.

The price of being white

stephen_wright — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 18:02:00 GMT

The price of being white

In four days time I will have been in Vietnam for five months. For me this marks quite significant length of time and proves that I have been able to adapt and thrive on the other side of the world.

However, it also is a good time to address the question “how integrated have I become into Vietnamese culture?” and, the question all expats ask themselves: “what separates me from the run of the mill tourist” Answering the first of these two questions is easy: not very. Superficially I have changed: I eat more rice and noodles, I drive on pavements if the road is too busy and I can count to 100 in Vietnamese. However other then this I still live a very westernised lifestyle, quite different form my Vietnamese neighbours. When I go back to England I’m not going to attempt to haggle for fish in Tesco or pavement hop in my small car when the traffic is to heavy. In short, I have become familiar with the customs and ways of Vietnam and have integrated to the extent that most westerners here seem to – a little but without truly leaving their comfort zone.

Answering the second question is trickier as it boils down to a question of perspective. From my point of view I’m not a tourist, I live and work here and therefore am currently an inhabitant to Vietnam. However, this does not mean that I am treated as a local.

Tourists in Vietnam are a big source of income for many people so naturally they are a constant magnet for street sellers, motorbike taxis and basically anyone - read almost everyone - who has something to sell. Unfortunately, being large and lumbering, tourists are also the target of many scams and cons designed to rinse them of as much cash in as little time as possible. These are primarily rigged taxi meters and overpriced goods however can be as far fetched as artificial boarder crossings where you pay for a fake visa only to find the real thing half a mile down the road. This is just the natural way of things however it becomes slightly tiresome having to prove that you are not a naïve tourist every time you wish to haggle for something. Knowing Vietnamese numbers helps but it doesn’t guarantee a good price.

There are a number of things you can do to differentiate yourself from the average tourist: wear trousers not shorts, drive a motorbike, don’t hang around in the backpacker district. But even when following these simple instructions I’ve still found it very hard to go unnoticed and am still regularly greeted by the familiar sounds of “hey you, want –insert a seemingly never ending list of products on sale on the street - ?”.

Driving a motorbike keeps you away form the street sellers and fairly anonymous, however, even here I can be singled out. During the traffic police crack down on westerners driving without Vietnamese licences, we were all warned to cover up in order to avoid detection: facemasks, sunglasses, gloves and large helmets were a must. However being six foot one with extremely pale skin and very light hair, I found it very hard to pass for Vietnamese even when fully kitted out in my disguise.

In the end of the day, these small annoyances are a small price to pay for the privilege of living in such an exciting country, I might even go so for as to say it wouldn’t be the same without them!

The problem with Vietnam is…

stephen_wright — Mon, 6 Apr 2009 14:49:00 GMT

The problem with Vietnam is the Vietnamese, and no I don’t mean the people, I am referring to the language. Before I even set foot in Vietnam I had decided that it was of upmost importance that I, at least attempted, to learn the local language. I was delighted when I heard that ILA (the school I work for) offered free Vietnamese lessons for it’s teaching staff. I immediately signed up and three weeks later instantaneously dropped out.

I’m not a natural linguist, sometimes I question whether I can really speak English properly), but learning Vietnamese is presents and extra challenge as it’s a tonal language. There are five tones (six in the north of the country) which must be used correctly in conjunction with speech if you are to be understood. Use the wrong tone at your peril as what you are trying to say could end up meaning something completely different. I discovered this the hard way when I was informed that I had been calling one of my students “rape” for the entire lesson.

My problem lies in the fact I cannot hear the difference between these tones, let alone produce them! In fact the only tone I seem capable of producing is a sort of nasal monotone, which comes out of my mouth every time I open it. I use this nasal monotone in all aspects of my life: I speak in nasal monotone, I sing in nasal monotone, I probably even dream in nasal monotone. Variation in tone is just beyond me.

It does not help that every time I attempt to use my Vietnamese I am met by looks of complete and utter incomprehension. When I try to order in a restaurant the entire staff normally gathers around me in an attempt to understand what language it is that I am trying produce. When the penny finally drops that I am trying to speak Vietnamese their faces instantly break into a smile and sometimes even a laugh. They then correct my Vietnamese by producing the same sentence but this time with the correct tone. This would be helpful if I could hear any difference between what I was saying and what they are saying, but I can’t.

I have now restarted Vietnamese lessons and have somehow blundered my way through the first half of the course using only nasal monotone - I may be winning the battle but I’m losing the tonal war.

Friday 13th

stephen_wright — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 00:27:00 GMT

For some people, Friday the 13^th marks a day of misfortune where we all should live in fear of being cursed by ill fate. For me, however, Friday the 13^th marks nothing more then another day on the calendar. Pretty much all my life I have believed superstition to be nothing more than a load of old wives tales. I presumed that people who genuinely believed in superstition must live very sheltered lives with nothing better to do then worry about black cats, ladders and the combination of the word Friday with the number 13.

Upon doing some research, I discovered that the fear of Friday the 13^th is called paraskavedekatriaphobia. Whoever invented this term must have had a cruel sense of humor as anyone inclined to genuinely fear Friday the 13^th is surely unable to pronounce nor spell this word. However, after the events of today, I reluctantly admit that I too now suffer from paraskavedekatriaphobia (a word which I can neither pronounce nor spell).

As with all good stories, it all started yesterday when I decided to eat a one-pound burger (unfortunately this was not its price but it’s weight - equivalent of four quarter-pounders). This decision was not a spontaneous one, in fact it was a meticulously planned event which I had been preparing for all day. No breakfast, little to no lunch and a preemptive gym session to counteract the impending calorie attack. However, nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. The burger itself was the size of a pizza and the height of a coke can, it was impossible to pick up and had to be sliced like a cake – a very meaty cake. The menu proudly boasted that the burger contained a 500 gram patty, six slices of bacon, one entire onion, four tomatoes, four slices of cheese and four entire pickles – I don’t even like pickles! In any case I accepted the challenge like a man and then promptly threw up.

I woke up today with a distinct pain in my left kidney, it was no doubt in overdrive trying to process the one pound of dead cow inside me. Unfortunately I had little time to complain as I was due to be in school for a long day of lesson planning. I spent most of the day in the staff room sweating pure liquid fat (the kind left in a frying pan after cooking bacon) and clutching my kidney.

Things couldn’t get much worse until I felt the iPod my friend had lent me slip out of my pocked and crack on the floor. The fall rendered the iPod to nothing more then a $250 paperweight, the iPaperweight. To make matters even worse, none of the music on the iPod has been backed-up. In effect, I had both broken $250 dollars of electrical equipment but and destroyed someone’s entire music collection in one…..and my kidney still hurt.

So there you are kids, paraskavedekatriaphobi is perhaps something to be taken more seriously now.

Cambodia's rise in intonation

stephen_wright — Fri, 6 Feb 2009 23:07:00 GMT

The economic world seems to be plagued by rises: rising prices, rising interest rates, rising debts and, most recently, a rising rate of unemployment. However, in the Kingdom of Cambodia a new type of rise has come to plague the consumer, a rise in intonation. Over the TET holiday (Chinese New Year) I was lucky enough to voyage up to Siam Reap in order explore the famous temples of Angkor Wat. Having been a convinced skeptic since the age of fourteen, I did not expect what is commonly described as the eighth wonder of the world to live up to its reputation. However, upon arrival I soon realised that I would have to add this to my list of "places that actually look better in reality then on postcards" (note that the only other places currently on my list are Venice and San Francisco). Disappointingly, it soon came apparent was that there wasn't much exploring left to do as most of the temples are now clearly signposted and have neat pathways leading to them. However, tourists are still permitted to clamber up, on and over the vast majority of temples. Being the proud owner of all three Indiana Jones DVDs (I refuse to acknowledge the existence of the fourth), I was determined to do Harrison Ford proud and explore as best one can a place that attracts over 600,000 visitors per year. So ignoring the crowds of budding Indys and Lara Crofts, I set about scaling the highest temple I could. The tiny steps and the sweltering heat presented some difficulty but nothing someone who has completed Tomb Raider One, Two and Three couldn't overcome. Upon arrival at the top I felt a genuine sense of achievement and glanced around for some kind of artifact to plunder before progressing to the next temple. Instead I was greeted with a small Cambodian lady who turned to me and demanded, "Buy some book sir!" The demand itself didn't come as a shock - I have become accustomed to the street sellers during my time in Vietnam - however she differed from any Vietnamese trader in how she posed the question. I should point out that the level of English in Cambodia far surpasses that of its neighbour. However, along with an incredible range of vocabulary, clear pronunciation and good grasp of grammar the many Cambodians have also adopted the rising intonation of the Western world. Rising intonation used to be reserved for questions but since the arrival of MTV reality shows some native English speakers have taken to increasing the pitch of pretty much anything they say. The Cambodian traders in Angkor Wat have picked up on this and adopted it, as a result the demand sounded more like "buy some book sssiiiiiiIIIRRRR!" than the tonally flat and blunt "buy book" of a Vietnamese trader. This interruption did not fit with my Tomb Raider fantasy so I politely declined the offer, smiled and turned to walk away. From behind me I heard the same voice cry out "five dollaaaRRR", and as I continued to walk, the price started to drop but the pitch continued to rise. "Four dollaaaRRR, three dolllaaaRRR". By the time she got to two dollar I contemplating whether what came next would be audible to the human ear, but I would never find out as she abruptly stopped at two dollar. No doubt she had seen a tourist even more gullible the me, perhaps they were wearing their backpack on their front, clutching an expensive looking camera and sporting one of those baseball caps with a fold-down bit of material at the back to protect your neck from the sun. Despite my best efforts to uphold my skepticism, over the following week Cambodia proved itself to be a both beautiful and fascinating country with extremely kind and helpful people. I would recommend that anyone living in Vietnam for any length of time pay a visit to it’s neighbour. And as for the rising intonation, I must admit that it is, like many irritant in this part of the world, a Western import.

Gallery: Cambodia

stephen_wright — Sun, 1 Feb 2009 14:45:00 GMT

Photos from my week long trip to Phnom Penn and Angkor Wat over the TET holiday

Happy New Year

stephen_wright — Thu, 1 Jan 2009 23:05:00 GMT

After going to Mui Ne for Christmas I decided to stay in Saigon for New Years. Nobody was up for paying loads of money for drinks in some overpriced club downtown so we decided instead to go to a local park in Saigon where they had constructed a huge stage. Never have I heard so much bad music played in a such a short proximity of time - but this is not to say that I didn’t relish every moment of this Vietnamese take on Western New Year (Vietnam has it’s own new year in February) - in fact I would go so far as to say it was one of my best new years ever (if a little cheesy). At midnight they let the crowd invade the stage and dance around to Abba’s “Happy New Year” (a song I was not familiar with until I arrive in Asia). After the stage invaders became to enthusiastic security stepped-in and festivities on stage became very subdued.

Vietnam, Number One!

stephen_wright — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 23:04:00 GMT

Last Sunday night was a big night for in Vietnam’s sporting history. Vietnam’s national football team defeated three-time winners Thailand in the AFF Suzuki Cup. It was a close final with Vietnam only needing a draw to take the trophy (they were one ahead from the first leg in Bangkok). With Vietnam one-down the match looked destined for extra-time until Vietnam put one away in the nick of time. Instantly the whole of Saigon took to the streets waving flags, banging pots and pans and chanting “Vietnam, number one, Vietnam, number one” (only in Vietnamese obviously). The roads came congested with motorbikes doing victory laps and moving anywhere became next to impossible.

Christmas

stephen_wright — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 23:03:00 GMT

As we had two days off for Christmas, eight of us decided to escape the pollution of Ho Chi Minh City and head to Mui Ne, a coastal resort about 4 to 5 hours drive away. The town is basically one long road full of hotels, restaurants, bars and spas all of which are positioned just on the beach. However, the area is most famous for it’s sand dunes which we went to visit on Christmas eve. Walking up into the red sand dunes was like leaving Vietnam and walking into the Sahara desert; they stretched as far as the eye could see and were intensely coloured. On the dunes we were given a chance to go sand sledging (for the small fee of 20,000 dong). This involved lying on a piece of plastic and being pushed head fist down the slop. We were then taken by jeep to the white sand dunes which were pretty much the same deal only white and on a less grand scale. Next on the agenda was the “Fairy River” which, despite it’s uninviting colour, was strangely warm and pleasant to wade through. If you follow the river for long enough it eventually takes you right to yet more sand dunes but by this time the light was fading and we made out way back to the jeeps. Wading through that river, it felt like I had arrived in real Vietnam, or at least the Hollywood portrayal of Vietnam. This “authentic” Vietnam could also been seen in the fishing village which was about ten minutes drive north of our hotel. The easiest way to get around Mui Ne is to rent a bicycle which we did for $1 per day. That night six of us crammed on three bicycles and cycled down to a local restaurant to meet the others for dinner. After dinner we hit the beach and joined the crowds milling around a giant bonfire outside a beach bar called Wax. We stayed out so long that the sun was coming up as we were going to bed. As I walked along the beach I saw all the local fishermen we bringing in their nets, two old ladies even recruited my help in dragging-in one of their lines. Unfortunately my camera battery was almost empty but I managed to take one shot before it died. Christmas day was the first time I felt slightly home sick, I think Christmas just isn’t Christmas without cold weather and family. Christmas decorations in a tropical climate just look tacky and out of place. Nevertheless I did have a great time; we spent most of the day sitting by the pool or swimming. There was even a 100,000 dong secret-santa from which I got a jar of disgusting pickled shrimp (which I didn’t eat). That evening we went to a French restaurant and I spent far to much money on Christmas dinner.

Round Round Get Around

stephen_wright — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 22:58:00 GMT

Saigon is famous for its’ millions of motorbikes - literally, there are estimated to be at least three million bikes in city. The traffic in Saigon has become a marketing venture with postcards available depicting the busy streets. As a result of the dense congestion, traffic moves at a mere crawl with the motorbikes doing a petrol-fuelled dance weaving in and out of the larger (and less mobile) buses and cars. It seems that anything goes to get from A to B, this includes mounting the pavement or driving on the wrong side of the road. When talking about motorised-transportation I am no expert (in fact, it took me five attempts to get my driving license in the UK, so I don’t really have a leg to stand on) therefore to try and portray what driving is like here I shall refer you to Mr. Clarkson himself informative, if somewhat dated video. This reference to Jeremy Clarkson is all the more relevant as Top Gear have recently filmed their Christmas special here which going to be aired on the 28th December on BBC2. After the initial shock and bemusement at the traffic, I have begun to see that there is a logic two it. It seems that all drivers follow three basic rules: Watch the person ahead and never look back (or indeed the mirrors). Use the horn regularly (at least once every 20 seconds) to impose your right of way upon other drivers. Carry as much as you can on the back of your bike as a trip should never be wasted (an entire family on one bike is not an uncommon site around Saigon). At the moment I don’t have my own bike and have been using Xe Om’s (motorbike taxis) to get around. The drivers of these spend 90% of their day asleep sprawled asleep on top of their bikes and the remaining 10% muttering “motorbike?” hopefully at anyone who walks past. I regularly get a Xe Om to school as it’s cheaper and quicker then a taxi. Bellow is a video of my view from the back of a Xe Om on my way to school one quiet Saturday morning. I should stress that the video doesn’t really reflect the madness of the traffic in Saigon but worth a look if your interested in seeing more of the city.

ILA Christmas Party

stephen_wright — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 15:13:00 GMT

This weekend was my second week of full-time teaching, although it was still tough it wasn’t half as bad as the previous weekend. There was also the added bonus of the ILA Christmas Party, an event much anticipated by the ILA staff. The party was held on Sunday night in the Sheraton Hotel and saw over 600 staff members drink and eat as much as they wanted for free. This was by far the most lavish formal ball I’ve ever been too. The theme of the event was James Bond and there was no expense spared with live bands, comedy sketches and specially prepared bond videos projected onto the walls of the dinning hall. The event started at 6:30pm but it wasn’t until eight that the doors of the main hall swung open and we were allowed in. We were greeted by huge room full of fifty plus tables and a massive stage all tailored to look like a Bondesque nd cocktail party. The event also drew to my attention just how many non-teachers work at ILA; in fact the teaching staff were outnumbered about 5-to-1 by the teaching assistants, cleaners, receptionists, office staff, security guards and the rest of the support staff. Without all those people ILA simply couldn’t operate. I just went in a tux but allot of people went all out with there Bond themed costumes. Because getting clothes tailored is so cheap here most of the girls got there dresses especially made. Some of the men also got tuxes especially tailored but those who really made an effort had costumes of bond villains made exactly as they were in the film (you can just bring any photo to a tailor and they will copy). The best costume by a long stretch was Robin’s who went as Blofeld (Bond’s reoccurring villain), he even shaved his beard and head to get into character. The most inventive costume has to go to Luke Wilson who came dressed as a Martini glass: I sat on a table of about ten with most of the other new teachers. I’ve been really lucking having other new people here with whom I've had the chance to explore the city. I work with with Helen and Will, who both went to my University, and James who I did my CELTA course in Oxford with; it’s a small world. Aside from the wonderful company, the best part of the night was the food. Everything from sushi to roast turkey was on offer. I tried veal for the very first time and couldn’t get enough of it. I did feel slightly guilty as the people to my left and right were having a conversation about being vegetarian while I muched on baby cow. After the hotel shut around half midnight most people headed to T&R’s and continued the party there until the early hours. All in all my best night here so far.

Teaching

stephen_wright — Sun, 7 Dec 2008 15:12:00 GMT

I’ve just finished my first two days teaching; on Saturday I taught four two-hour classes and today I had three two-hour classes. That’s a total of fourteen hours over the weekend which is allot of teaching! What really takes the time is the lesson preparation: the planning, the photocopying, the gluing and sticking. I spent ten hours at school on Friday just planning for the weekend and even then I was still having to prepare things at the last minute. I’m told lesson planning becomes easier as time goes on, but for the moment it remains long and tiring. Although the planning is a pain, the teaching itself is great. The three groups of children I’ve taught have all been really well behaved. They range in age from 6 to 13 but are all very well disciplined and rarely, if ever, misbehave. The younger ones in particular are a delight to teach and come out with some very funny stuff. At the beginning of all new classes I give students a chance to ask questions about me as they are always curious about foreign teachers. Most of them just ask where I’m from and how old I am but his one boy raised his hand and said “teacher I have private question”. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but was amused when he whispered in my ear “why does teacher write with his left hand?” in an almost embarrassed voice . I’m guessing being forced to write with your right hand is common practice here as, I’m told, left-handers are very uncommon. My timetable looks great for next week; I have the entire week free bar two hours on Tuesday and Thursday evening. This is more then enough time to recover before the onslaught of next weekend. Sunday is a big night out for the teaching ex-pat community as it marks the end of an ordeal. Tonight I’m going to a cheese and wine evening hosted by a colleague.

Induction Week

stephen_wright — Wed, 3 Dec 2008 15:08:00 GMT

It has been two weeks since I arrived and I figure this is a good to write about my first impressions and how they have changed over the course of the 14 days. After my rather euphoric experience in Hong Kong, I was brought back to reality upon arrival in Ho Chi Minh City. My first impressions was overwhelming and not exactly positive; having insisted on staying awake to watch and entire season of Entourage on the flight, I was pretty jet-lagged by the time I arrived. My fatigue was not helped by the fact that the temperature outside was pushing 33 degrees. I was dropped off at my hotel (see photo) by someone from ILA but after that I was on my own. Wondering around in the unbearable heat that afternoon I was forced to ask myself two questions; firstly, why did I come here? and secondly, why did I pack two pairs of jeans and only one pair of shorts?. Luckily the negativity was short-lived, as soon as I met Sam (another new teacher) we started exploring the city which had suddenly come less daunting when armed with a travel buddy (and a pair of shorts). The first thing that one must learn to do when coming to Vietnam is cross the road. As seen in the picture bellow, traffic here is insane. The best method to get across the road is to shut your eyes and make small and steady steps. I’ve been told that Top Gear filmed here especially because of the traffic problems.

Hong Kong

stephen_wright — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 15:07:00 GMT

I love Hong Kong, however I am only basing this judgement on the fact that they provide free Wi-Fi in their airport. As my entire trip to Hong Kong consists only of a flight transfer in the airport this has left me with a very good general impression of the place.

Counting down the days...

stephen_wright — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 15:04:00 GMT

It’s just under a week now until V-day (i.e. until I set off for Vietnam) and I’m growing gradually more and more nervous. So much to do in so little time, but thankfully I have nothing else holding me back (i.e. I'm unemployed). This is not without it’s disadvantages, namely the lack of money in my bank account. As a result I have spend the past two weeks selling a various objects that I have accumulated on E-bay, in-exchange for a multitude of expensive vaccinations (namely Rabies and Japanese Enchefilitis - spelling?!), flight tickets and visas.

As must list of “things to do” grows gradually smaller I begin to realise that this time next week I will be thousands of miles away with no plans on returning home for nine months. If this is not daunting enough I have the addition pressure of having to maintain a job while I’m out there. In fact, I keep finding myself forgetting that I will be working out there; some part of me thinks I’m off on a 9 month holiday. Wrong!

Gallery: The Mekong Delta

stephen_wright — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 14:38:00 GMT

Photos from my two day trip to the Mekong Delta in January