The end...
...beautiful friends. Woke this morning and briefly wondered which country I was in, then remembered. It's one degree outside, the trees are bare and everyone speaks English; suddenly the equivalent of two weeks' wages that I had in my wallet three days ago has metamorphosised into less than the cost of a round of drinks; I no longer require ten minutes and the protection of a passing deity to cross the road.
In many ways it feels like I've been gone for 15 minutes not 15 months: Bromley's sole addition appears to be a new fish & chip shop, everyone at the council is still pissed off with their job and my chums the scallies still patrol the local parade of shops scowling darkly. Still, for now I'm actually not hating it - novelty value I suppose, but I'd forgotten how beautiful the sky here can be in winter and, bleak though it is out, there's an Englishness to the scene that's appealing. For now.
Saigon (prefer the old, evocative name to the propagandic Ho Chi Minh City) made Hanoi look like Little-Cholmondeley-on-the-Marsh: brash, bold and teeming with 8m inhabitants (only 10% of whom are from the city: like all cities, the job market acts as a magnet on the surrounding areas), it's noticeably much more Western-influenced than its little northern sister. The central, posh area around Dong Khoi with its Guccis, mechanised Santa Clauses and coloured fairy lights would almost make you think you were in London (but for the 25° temperature difference), while the ladyboys on scooters remind one, inevitably, of Bangkok. It's a bit intimidating at first and I wasn't sorry after the first night to be leaving for somewhere calmer.
Got the bus to Vinh Long in the Mekong Delta, arranged a small tour and homestay with a local family and set off in a boat for the nearby An Binh river island. The nutrient-rich mud of the Delta is responsible for its incredibly lush landscape: boating down the overgrown canals you see the fruit farmers' posh houses on the banks, testament to the fertility of the soil. You can practically stick a fence post in the ground there and it'll grow. The air's hot and moist and I was grateful for the fan, hammock and cold beer waiting for me at the homestay. 'Homestay' is a bit of a misnomer - it's a fairly well-established industry now and rather than the mat in a corner I was expecting you actually get a private hotel-style room: it's more like a hostel that a family happens to live in than a family home. That said, I still prefer it to most of the hotels I've stayed in - you do get to meet the family (altho as they usually don't speak English and my Vietnamese is practically non-existent, communication is somewhat limited - we ended up at several points simply pointing to the appropriate sentence in the phrasebook rather than face the frustration of trying to say it). The night outside was quiet, broken only by the creak of cicadas and the putter of an occasional scooter; the evening meal was fantastic, a massive seafood and pork banquet - the family seems to have taken it as a point of pride to leave every guest stuffed.
In preference to a second night in the big smoke I went to another nearby homestay the day after and ate curried frogs' legs and eel-fish, very good too. After that it was the bus back to Saigon, an afternoon's sight-seeing (Reunification Palace and the extremely grim War Remnants museum) and the plane home via Hong Kong. After five countries, a dozen or so cities, 450 days and God knows how many thousand miles it's all over. No depression as yet, just a sense of unreality - seems impossible to believe I'm actually not getting on a bus tomorrow and heading off somewhere new. That will fade no doubt. As it is, I'm hoping to eke a few free beers out of generous friends and to sound interesting for five minutes before having to whore myself again at the temp agency. Reality beckons.
To anyone who's made it this far, thanks for bothering; and to the older version of myself who might happen to chance again upon this blog one day, this trip was one of your better ideas. As for the next one? With a bit of luck, Japan in 2009 to work as an assistant language teacher - the countdown starts here...
Merry Christmas, over and out.
In many ways it feels like I've been gone for 15 minutes not 15 months: Bromley's sole addition appears to be a new fish & chip shop, everyone at the council is still pissed off with their job and my chums the scallies still patrol the local parade of shops scowling darkly. Still, for now I'm actually not hating it - novelty value I suppose, but I'd forgotten how beautiful the sky here can be in winter and, bleak though it is out, there's an Englishness to the scene that's appealing. For now.
Saigon (prefer the old, evocative name to the propagandic Ho Chi Minh City) made Hanoi look like Little-Cholmondeley-on-the-Marsh: brash, bold and teeming with 8m inhabitants (only 10% of whom are from the city: like all cities, the job market acts as a magnet on the surrounding areas), it's noticeably much more Western-influenced than its little northern sister. The central, posh area around Dong Khoi with its Guccis, mechanised Santa Clauses and coloured fairy lights would almost make you think you were in London (but for the 25° temperature difference), while the ladyboys on scooters remind one, inevitably, of Bangkok. It's a bit intimidating at first and I wasn't sorry after the first night to be leaving for somewhere calmer.
Got the bus to Vinh Long in the Mekong Delta, arranged a small tour and homestay with a local family and set off in a boat for the nearby An Binh river island. The nutrient-rich mud of the Delta is responsible for its incredibly lush landscape: boating down the overgrown canals you see the fruit farmers' posh houses on the banks, testament to the fertility of the soil. You can practically stick a fence post in the ground there and it'll grow. The air's hot and moist and I was grateful for the fan, hammock and cold beer waiting for me at the homestay. 'Homestay' is a bit of a misnomer - it's a fairly well-established industry now and rather than the mat in a corner I was expecting you actually get a private hotel-style room: it's more like a hostel that a family happens to live in than a family home. That said, I still prefer it to most of the hotels I've stayed in - you do get to meet the family (altho as they usually don't speak English and my Vietnamese is practically non-existent, communication is somewhat limited - we ended up at several points simply pointing to the appropriate sentence in the phrasebook rather than face the frustration of trying to say it). The night outside was quiet, broken only by the creak of cicadas and the putter of an occasional scooter; the evening meal was fantastic, a massive seafood and pork banquet - the family seems to have taken it as a point of pride to leave every guest stuffed.
In preference to a second night in the big smoke I went to another nearby homestay the day after and ate curried frogs' legs and eel-fish, very good too. After that it was the bus back to Saigon, an afternoon's sight-seeing (Reunification Palace and the extremely grim War Remnants museum) and the plane home via Hong Kong. After five countries, a dozen or so cities, 450 days and God knows how many thousand miles it's all over. No depression as yet, just a sense of unreality - seems impossible to believe I'm actually not getting on a bus tomorrow and heading off somewhere new. That will fade no doubt. As it is, I'm hoping to eke a few free beers out of generous friends and to sound interesting for five minutes before having to whore myself again at the temp agency. Reality beckons.
To anyone who's made it this far, thanks for bothering; and to the older version of myself who might happen to chance again upon this blog one day, this trip was one of your better ideas. As for the next one? With a bit of luck, Japan in 2009 to work as an assistant language teacher - the countdown starts here...
Merry Christmas, over and out.
posted by Pearson at 11:23 AM
2 Comments:
Hope you had a good Christmas! x
I did, thanks! Likewise
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