Sign of the Times

Last weekend we had a delightful time with a group of our young Vietnamese friends.
Quan is a very friendly guy whom we first met at a restaurant, he was our waiter. His thirst for expanding his English has powered a friendship that we cherish. It was with a group of his friends, three young girls also learning English, that we spent our evening.
We started with the girls, arriving later, joining in our game of Scrabble. I might say, considering they had never sighted the game before and English is their new language, they had quite a store of words to put down. Of course, we won but they weren't far behind.
Quan, knowing that James likes wine, gave us a gift. It was a sort of DIY wine vat. A big ceramic pot carried in a woven basket. We had to add water to the pot which contained a substance that looked like sphagnum moss. This had to sit for about 20 minutes to ferment before we ceremoniously carried it into the lounge and placed it on the coffee table. Four bamboo straws pierced the plastic covering and we all took a sip. It tasted a little like port, rather raw, but heck, it was only 20 minutes. We looked like a group of hippies sitting around a communal pipe and sharing the fun.
Pizza arrived, again a new experience for the girls. They were very worried that it would make them fat but seemed to enjoy every bit. I gave them knives and forks but they didn't know how to use them. We talked and laughed into the night, the conversation disjointed at times and bizarre answers given to simple questions but a great night had by all. Especially Quan who, after three drinks, ended up asleep from too much alcohol.
Ha, one of the girls was off to New Zealand the following Thursday to commence a course in hospitality. When I asked her what time her flight was, she said she hadn't booked it yet, her plan was to do that on Tuesday. She was shocked when I said she may not get a flight at such short notice. "But why" was her response.
The naivety of these young people set me to thinking. The young people here embrace the Western way of life, they try to imitate it in most of the things they do. I guess young people are the same everywhere, influenced by their peers and fashion. There are those who are very modern in their dress. They wear the low rider jeans but modesty prevails and there is no belly button hanging out. T-shirts seem to be longer, just so that they meet the jeans. I have seen the Vietnamese equivalent to Emo (I think that's how you spell it) The advantage being, they don't have to dye their hair. But there are those who do dye their hair, the Vietnamese attempt at bleached blonde is not good. They congregate in groups, hang out in coffee shops, manage to terrorize traffic with three on a push bike, but deep down they are all still nice kids.
Fashion plays a bit part in trying to emulate the western world. I wish I was quick enough with my camera to capture some of the things I've seen. But somewhere out there is an enterprising non-English speaking Vietnamese person, printing slogans onto clothing. Some of the ones that have made me smile have been...
Slippery Slope...not good on a pretty young Viet girl.
Below Freezing Wear...on a jacket, but when does it get below freezing here.
Demilitarized Zone...I should hope so.
Peace, Love, Greed...pick the odd one out.
Fucing....thank heaven they can't spell.
Armani Exchange It Here...now, if I had Armani, I wouldn't exchange it.
It's All Mine, Want Some...inappropriately on a little girl's T-shirt.
I wish I could remember them all. It is a use of a language that can't be understood by many, but it is English, something they all aspire to.
I have to think, what is it they all want. Is it to be out in the Western world, to fit in with what capitalism heralds as the greatest, or is it to make it easier to abandon the one they have. Whatever it is, it gives me a good giggle.

Sleep

SLEEP

This city moves at a pace so busy that it can make you wonder what the rush is. The locals rise early, at 5am they can be seen in the streets preparing for the day. Some are arranging low stools around an equally low table, big pots coming to boil and the steam evaporating into the early morning air. The last of the garbage is being swept into piles, and then shoveled into bins on wheels being pushed by slight looking individuals dressed in safety orange, wearing plastic shoes.

Outside of the local newspaper printing mills, men have large plastic sheets spread on the ground sorting large piles of newspapers into smaller piles of newspaper. These are bound with sting and loaded onto the back of motorbikes to be distributed to local news stands.

Women with big woven baskets tied on the back of their bikes go up and down alleys and roads, calling out what sounds to me like “bunyee”. Fresh hot bread rolls are under the hessian cover and sold door to door, providing a tasty breakfast for a very cheap price.

People are seen on balconies or in parks swinging their arms or marching to their own beat. This country is focused on preventative care, keeping fit the best way to stay healthy.

Soon the horns start blasting, the streets get busier. Everyone is moving quickly, like ants trotting in every direction, each knowing where they want to go but not necessarily taking a direct route. As the day warms up, so does the activity.

Breakfast seems to be quickly followed by lunch, with street stalls crowded again by 11.30.

Then everything stops. With full stomachs, everyone takes off for a nap. School children have either gone home for lunch or, if in daycare, camp stretchers are dragged out for the little ones to nap. Alternatively, piles of mattresses are unloaded from a storage room for comfort. Woven mats are rolled out on the floor for a snooze under a ceiling fan, shop front stalls are draped with sheets to stop theft while the shop keeper snuggles down, an arm draped over the face to provide privacy. Business doors are closed (but not necessarily locked), the lights are turned off and chairs pushed together forming a makeshift bed. I have walked in to an office to pay a bill just at this time of day and found the attendant settling down on the desk top with a stack of books providing a pillow.

The need for rest provides some interesting places to sleep.At midday, bus drivers can be seen swinging in hammocks suspended in the back of the bus, cyclo drivers have their bed on wheels and the xe om drivers (motorbike taxis) hang their legs over the handle bars and lie on their backs, pushing out the zzzzzzzz’s. Construction workers sit on the footpath to eat their lunch then just stretch out, looking like ten men in a bed. It doesn’t seem to matter if it is a busy or quiet part of town, a footpath or the steps of a quiet pagoda, if the need is there, any place will do.

I have seen hammocks hanging on wrought iron fences, suspended between poles with a body cocooned within. If there are possessions to be protected, an arm or leg is entwined to ensure that nobody takes off with the precious goods. But it was the funeral attendant who gave me a good laugh. In the back of the funeral truck, well adorned with elaborate decorations, was the attendant asleep between the wooden rungs that hold the coffin on its way out of town.

Eventually everyone rouses, but never in a hurry to resume where they left off. Slowly the wheels of industry turn while they rub the sleep from their eyes, turn the lights up and eventually return to work. Generally, there is another bowl of noodles to sustain them till it is time to eat again. I can understand the need for siesta, the heat makes you want to slow down. But the day starts early here and children can be heard laughing and playing well after 10pm. Eventually the lights go out, but not for long because tomorrow is only a few hour away.