So it turns out I'm not so bulletproof as I thought.
After a scant two and a half weeks in Saigon I'd already grown cocky about the place. I crossed the street (usually) without fear and I cheerfully dined at street vendors as if I hadn't a care in the world.
Foolishness! Yesterday I was so ill i could barely stand up. It was the whole lot: diarrhea, vomiting, fever, weakness, dehydration. I managed to nurse myself back to health with some antibiotics and Revive (a curious mix between 7-up and Gatorade, made by Pepsico) but man, I can't remember the last time I felt so physically debilitated. Ho Chi Minh's revenge, I guess.
The culprit was probably some undercooked meat; I don't drink the water and I've been tossing the fresh herbs into my pho since the day i got here, so that's the most likely candidate. I suppose i got of easy; some people in my TEFL program were laid low for days at a time.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Party Like it's 1986
Some history: after defeating the South Vietnamese government in 1975 and finally reunifying the country, the Vietnamese Communist Party set about running the economy under orthodox Marxist principles.
It didn't work out terribly well, and a scant eleven years later they introduced the doi moi (open door) policy, liberalizing the economy to a great extent.
However, one thing that has definitely not changed since 1986 is the musical taste of the Vietnamese people.
Last Saturday I met up with a Vietnamese girl of my acquaintance and several of her friends to go to the Acoustic Cafe, a rock cafe/bar in District 3. She insisted that we get there two hours before the band was set to play, and it soon became apparent why: the cafe was jammed, you couldn't turn around in there. So what was the occasion?
Stick it to the Man, a Bon Jovi cover band.
I wish I were kidding, but no. The place was full of young, hip, well-off Vietnamese who yelled out their favorite 80's stadium rock ballads and sang along (in English) to 'Every Rose has its Thorn'.
Afterward I took an informal poll of the English-speakers as to who was their favorite singer/musical group. I heard:
- Duran Duran
- N'Sync
- Sublime
- Celine Dion
- the Backstreet Boys
This place has a long way to go.
It didn't work out terribly well, and a scant eleven years later they introduced the doi moi (open door) policy, liberalizing the economy to a great extent.
However, one thing that has definitely not changed since 1986 is the musical taste of the Vietnamese people.
Last Saturday I met up with a Vietnamese girl of my acquaintance and several of her friends to go to the Acoustic Cafe, a rock cafe/bar in District 3. She insisted that we get there two hours before the band was set to play, and it soon became apparent why: the cafe was jammed, you couldn't turn around in there. So what was the occasion?
Stick it to the Man, a Bon Jovi cover band.
I wish I were kidding, but no. The place was full of young, hip, well-off Vietnamese who yelled out their favorite 80's stadium rock ballads and sang along (in English) to 'Every Rose has its Thorn'.
Afterward I took an informal poll of the English-speakers as to who was their favorite singer/musical group. I heard:
- Duran Duran
- N'Sync
- Sublime
- Celine Dion
- the Backstreet Boys
This place has a long way to go.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
What Things Cost
in Saigon:
1 bowl pho bo (Beef pho) on the street = 15,000 - 30,000 VND
1 pork banh mi = 6,000 - 10,000 VND
1 cup ca phe sua da (sweet iced coffee) = 5,000 VND
1 large bottle of mineral water = 7,000 VND
taxi ride from District 1 to District 3 = 40,000 VND
motorbike ride from De Than to Dong Khoi = 15,000 VND
Decent cell phone = 1,000,000 VND
1 night in a modest guest house with AC and hot water = 110,000 VND
1 touristy T-shirt at Ben Tham Market = 100,000 VND (before bargaining) - 40,000 VND (after bargaining)
16,500 VND (Vietnamese Dong) = $1 US
1 bowl pho bo (Beef pho) on the street = 15,000 - 30,000 VND
1 pork banh mi = 6,000 - 10,000 VND
1 cup ca phe sua da (sweet iced coffee) = 5,000 VND
1 large bottle of mineral water = 7,000 VND
taxi ride from District 1 to District 3 = 40,000 VND
motorbike ride from De Than to Dong Khoi = 15,000 VND
Decent cell phone = 1,000,000 VND
1 night in a modest guest house with AC and hot water = 110,000 VND
1 touristy T-shirt at Ben Tham Market = 100,000 VND (before bargaining) - 40,000 VND (after bargaining)
16,500 VND (Vietnamese Dong) = $1 US
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Cyclo-ne
A cyclo is a bicycle rickshaw.
Do not use them in Saigon. Do not use them anywhere if you have a choice.
About ten years ago an incredibly depressing Vietnamese movie called Cyclo was released, depicting the terrible hardships endured by very poor people (in this case a cyclo driver and his family) in a poor country. It didn't do wonders for the cyclo industry, that's for sure.
Beyond that, a cyclo is a kind of relic left over from the colonial period - a time when chubby Westerners in white suits would be carted around the Rue Catinat by Annanite (as for some reason the French insisted on calling the Vietnamese) coolies. Asking somebody to literally push you in a chair seems like an indignity for both of you.
More practically, cyclos are achingly slow and actually more expensive than a motorbike or taxi, due to the effort involved. I took one last night on what would've been a ten-minute drive in a motor vehicle but instead took 45 minutes, although that was partially because my driver had no idea where he was going.
Do not use them in Saigon. Do not use them anywhere if you have a choice.
About ten years ago an incredibly depressing Vietnamese movie called Cyclo was released, depicting the terrible hardships endured by very poor people (in this case a cyclo driver and his family) in a poor country. It didn't do wonders for the cyclo industry, that's for sure.
Beyond that, a cyclo is a kind of relic left over from the colonial period - a time when chubby Westerners in white suits would be carted around the Rue Catinat by Annanite (as for some reason the French insisted on calling the Vietnamese) coolies. Asking somebody to literally push you in a chair seems like an indignity for both of you.
More practically, cyclos are achingly slow and actually more expensive than a motorbike or taxi, due to the effort involved. I took one last night on what would've been a ten-minute drive in a motor vehicle but instead took 45 minutes, although that was partially because my driver had no idea where he was going.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Crossing the Street in Saigon
It can be tricky.
The sheer number of motorbikes on the streets at any one time is staggering. They fill warehouses and crowd the sidewalks, and pour down the streets in rivers. Traffic lights are few and traffic regulations almost non-existent. Add to this normal cars, buses, bicycles, and cyclos (bicycle rickshaws) and the very idea of even setting foot on the pavement seems impossible. There are, however, certain secrets to pick up.
The first is Communism. In most societies it is incumbent upon you, the individual, to avoid getting run over. In Vietnam it is the Traffic, as a single mass, who are responsible for not killing you.
The second is that, as impossible as it seems, every one of those drivers is paying close attention to where they're going. So, if you walk at a steady pace across the street, the drivers will be able to estimate where they have to go to avoid you. If you run, stop, or made any sudden movements they'll get confused and tragedy may ensue.
When all else fails, some Vietnamese person - usually a smirking teenager or five-year-old girl, to make the experience as humbling as possible - will take pity on the poor stupid Westerner and lead you across. As soon as his foot hits the pavement the traffic will instantly - magically - flow around you, leaving a wide clear path for you to make you egress.
This isn't to say that you don't have to be reasonable. The Vietnamese are only human, and just because accidents are far less common than you would think doesn't mean they never happen. Still, if you can work up the nerves, it makes every crosswalk an adventure.
The sheer number of motorbikes on the streets at any one time is staggering. They fill warehouses and crowd the sidewalks, and pour down the streets in rivers. Traffic lights are few and traffic regulations almost non-existent. Add to this normal cars, buses, bicycles, and cyclos (bicycle rickshaws) and the very idea of even setting foot on the pavement seems impossible. There are, however, certain secrets to pick up.
The first is Communism. In most societies it is incumbent upon you, the individual, to avoid getting run over. In Vietnam it is the Traffic, as a single mass, who are responsible for not killing you.
The second is that, as impossible as it seems, every one of those drivers is paying close attention to where they're going. So, if you walk at a steady pace across the street, the drivers will be able to estimate where they have to go to avoid you. If you run, stop, or made any sudden movements they'll get confused and tragedy may ensue.
When all else fails, some Vietnamese person - usually a smirking teenager or five-year-old girl, to make the experience as humbling as possible - will take pity on the poor stupid Westerner and lead you across. As soon as his foot hits the pavement the traffic will instantly - magically - flow around you, leaving a wide clear path for you to make you egress.
This isn't to say that you don't have to be reasonable. The Vietnamese are only human, and just because accidents are far less common than you would think doesn't mean they never happen. Still, if you can work up the nerves, it makes every crosswalk an adventure.
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