Home Sweet Far Away Home
In case you haven’t guessed by now, I love to travel. It’s a passion that has dictated several moves, many flights and countless bus rides over the years. So, as a self-proclaimed travel addict, my next statement might seem strange: there’s no place like home (insert eye roll).
You Look so Nice and Fat Today
Guess which one I am.
Fat is in, baby. Here in Vietnam it’s the fatter, the better. At least that’s what I hope is going on. You see, size is an issue for me here. The scale of my life is quite simply bigger than the average Vietnamese. I need a bigger chair; a bigger dress; bigger shoes. It’s a bit like Alice in Wonderland, although the rabbits are less concerned with time. And size is a repeat topic of conversation between me and my Vietnamese friends.
In Vietnam you call it as you see it, and polite conversation has different rules. Standard greeting questions are, What is your name? Are you married? How old are you? Instead of beating around the bush like we do back home, they cut straight through the nonsense. No harm meant. Chit-chat also takes unusual turns. You look so tired! You look so much better last time! You should get married soon or you will be too old to have children. It takes some getting used to, but at least you know it’s genuine, and it makes the positive remarks all the more meaningful. On days when I’m told I look good, I strut my stuff knowing it must be true. On days when I’m told I look bad…well, it keeps me humble.
The Seven (Plus Six) Week Itch: Seeing Your New Home in All Its Pudgy Glory
Three months and suddenly Vietnam and I have hit a wall in our relationship. The initial crush has cooled down and we are facing the stark reality of each other. The honking of traffic has become too loud. The rain has become too frequent. The scooters, too many. And Vietnam seems equally annoyed with me. Why else is he sending these obstacles to trip me up? He won’t let me go to the beach (What? I’m I too fat for you now?). He sends mosquitoes to keep me in line at night.
We’re on shaky ground.
Life as a Slug of Leisure
Who loves the spa? This kid right here…the one typing in a semi-daze after her stressful two hour massage and facial. Yeah, life’s rough sometimes. Today was my first trip to the spa in my whole hard knock life. Before today that was a source of pride for me. I was too down-to-Earth to get caught up in all that seaweed wrap and hot rock fluff.
Now I take it all back. I am no longer down-to-Earth; I am floating away on a cloud that smells like eucalypts leaves and lavender infused with love. And I’m never coming back.
I feel 27 years younger, which doesn’t make sense but I’m too relaxed for logic. Even when facing the siege of maniac scooters on the way home I couldn’t manage to awaken any feeling but wonderful. Now that I have gloated profusely, I am back to my unicorn rainbow land of happiness.
Let the moonlight shine upon you and open your heart to the splendor of the universe. Believe in leprechauns and fairies, friends.
Aww…
Leave Halloween to the Professionals
And who would like to volunteer for the Halloween committee? asks my principal at the staff meeting. Simultaneously every American hand in the room goes up.
One Aussie bravely offers, I could, um, help with the, um, apple game?
We can’t help but laugh a little under our breaths. That’s alright, mate, go back to shrimp on the barbey. We’ve got this one covered. Our principal nods understandingly. Best leave Halloween to the Yanks.
Although PC dictates the world around us, there is a time and place to say the real, startling truth. So here it goes: Americans are the best Halloween party planners in the world.
Typhoon Approaching
Yes, folks, there’s a typhoon headed our way…again. Da Nang, Vietnam is forecast to be rocked by Mother Nature in T-minus five hours. And I’m ready. A few weeks ago there was rumor of a typhoon (complete with much stocking up of canned goods and beer) only for it to fizzle into heavy rain by the time it reached the coast. For most people, this is a good thing, but I was disappointed. I had been looking forward to sending home harrowing stories of swimming through city streets.
Having never actually been in a typhoon I assume they are a fun excuse to cuddle up indoors for a few days and then awaken to a wonderful new world of romantic canals and impromptu gondolas. I imagine calling for a canoe to paddle me around town once the storm is over. There might even be a parasol involved. And all the while that I am living comfortably in my post-typhoon water world I will be earning bragging rights for surviving a natural disaster. It’s surely a win-win.
Love in a Time of Karaoke
Love is mandatory in Vietnam. While places like Vegas and Rio beckon you to the glitter of singledom, Da Nang is decidedly monogamous. Just ask any of the trillion couples camped out along the Da Nang promenade oblivious to the roar of scooters, children and dogs around them. Their love blinds them from remembering to look before they cross the street – or look before they walk straight into me. But I don’t mind being stopped in the name of love.
After all there is nothing quite so beautiful as love in a time of karaoke.
Old Snobs, Riding Elephants
Old means different things to different people. At age 16, 27 seems old. At age 27, 67 seems old. At age 67, it’s 97 that’s really wicked old. And I assume by the time you’re 97 you’re too old to bother with old. It’s the same with buildings. In USA anything over 20 years is old. 100 years? Ancient. Meanwhile over in Granddaddy Europe a 100 year building is barely out of diapers. It’s all relative. But here in Asia old should be Old. After all, the Vietnamese people have existed for something like 45 million years. Or 4,000. Some big number of years. So naturally they should have some 45 million year old buildings, or at least 4,000. Really anything over 500 will do.
It was with this flawlessly educated mindset that I recently trekked away through jungle and o’er mountains far to reach the ancient imperial city of Hue.
Aping KPOP
*Note that I will try not my best to avoid the dark, life-sucking pit of teacher talk as much as possible. Please excuse the slip up.
Today’s English lesson was on animal names as verbs. There were the classics – wolf (as in “Don’t wolf down your sandwich), horse (as in “He’s horsing around”), duck (“Here comes the ball…duck!”), monkey around, bear a burden, fish for compliments…all expressions that seemed, well, just not that important at first. I teach nine-year-olds, many of whom are still learning English. Surely subject-verb agreement should trump crow about? But Curriculum says no (Little Britain reference intentional) and, as the great Curriculum reminds me, students will be tested on this! So away we went into the wonderful world of hawking, leeching and squirreling around.
Woof, Woof went my Sandwich
To scoot, or not to scoot…
The big Will She, Won’t She question before I moved to Vietnam was, of course: Will she eat dog? Will she munch away the memory of Lassie and roast up Old Yeller? Will she send Spot to the stomach and eat Clifford the Big Red Hotdog?
beyonddisneytraveltips 