I'm here too

Christie has kicked off this blog site with a drive that reflects her attitude to most things. I have done a very similar thing. My attitude is some whet less, motivated you could say, or perhaps considerate for those who may be concerned of my well being. Luckily as Christie is so motivated, I have hopefully by default had reassurance past to those worried parties (hi Mum) through her informative, and hugely entertaining entries.

It is time I wrote something because, honestly, I’m here too, and I have opinions and emotions as well. Perhaps I will lack the wit and concise imagery Christie carries, but I will take opportunities where available to poke fun at the things I see and the people at home.

So much to say, and from so little time. Well, I can write ‘so much to say’, but when it comes to the part of saying it, I find I’m unsure what to say, where to start, and in fact what it is I’ve been doing. Hmmm – right, Ho Chi Minh City - that’s the thing. Firstly, it’s bigger than Exeter. Really. Compared to Exeter I would say it is, bigger. With this insightful fact, you may now be unsurprised when I also let you know it is busier than Exeter also. Whoa! I mean much busier. Now this is quite a valid statement I’m making, but perhaps this is hard to comprehend if you haven’t been to Exeter. I guess these points are always going to be relative to something, so when I think ‘WOW, this is a busy place’, anyone sat in the centre of Cairo maybe thinking, ‘Well, I’ve been to Saigon and I thought it was quite quaint’. I don’t even really care, I seem to be writing any old thing now just to have something on this bloomin’ blog.

So it’s big and busy, got it? It also crazy. Unlike other cities I’ve been to, this one has a ratio of about 1 car to every 20 billion mopeds. They are crazy and follow the rules of the road in so much as there appears to be none. It makes for a constant streaming, beeping, swerving road for every street, everywhere. The bikes all park on the pavements (of which there seem to be about 10 complete ones), and if it’s not bikes it’s mini food stools and seating, so there is nowhere to walk but within the beeping, swerving crazy rule-less bikes. Crazy.

These bikes and noise are the first thing that hits you in the city. They make the city as well. The bike seems to be one of the most important things to all locals. It seems they are an extension to the inhabitants body, and as essential as the air you breath, which, it is fair to say, in Ho Chi Minh city is not a lot thanks to these bikes and there heavy fumes.

So, as a writer it is clear I ramble. So far we have big, busy, bikes and crazy. I haven’t said anything and I certainly don’t intend on boring you or myself any further right now. However, let me stress that like Christie I am here. We are both settling in and enjoying things. We start teaching in a week, but before that, a trip to the beach is in order. You can trust Christie will update you on the happenings at the beach, and I will at some point right some incoherent waffle about something, sometime.

The trials of being so sweet.

Having obviously noticed that Tim’s vascular system is a river of evil the mosquitoes of Vietnam have singled me out for their car-bombing attack, for some strange reason specifically targeting my feet and ankles. The result being that my right foot looks like I’m the latest victim of the bubonic plague. At least it’s not rabies, thought it may well be very localised bouts of malaria. They do itch and I’m sure that’s a symptom.

Although we are still in semi-holiday mode and it is permitted to increase your alcohol content on such occasions it is still a worrying state of affairs when beer costs the same as water and you are determined to immerse yourself in the life of the city, regardless of the fumes. Tim and I have spent many a happy dusk watching the city transform from dusty vibrancy to neon shouts from plastic deckchairs on the pavement with aforementioned beer in hand. The natural light begins to dim slightly about 5.30pm, hovers for 20 minutes and then seemingly plunge headfirst into darkness, when the strain is taken on my the street-lights. With the night is brought some semblance of calm, well the best HCMC in the centre of the tourist area can offer, and a slight breeze to make watching the world go by on a dirty street a very pleasant pursuit indeed. As in the day the street vendors are an indominatable force and we have been debating their probable hierarchy since arrival. As soon as they lay eyes on a Western face, as in many other places in the world where tourist numbers are high but can do nothing to match the population of the poor, you are offered everything for the normal and the expected; such as cigarettes, sunglasses and Vietnamese trinkets to the slightly strange; such as dried squid, which look uncannily like saline drips and photocopied editions of many English to the bizarre; portable height and weight machines attached to wheelchair wheels, so that fat Westerners can be appalled at their excess.

The trials and tribulations of eating are getting easier and we no longer feel as if we are paying 3 times the price of locals for simple street fare, just about twice the price now. As we begin to step out of the tourist areas and get a motorbike – which seems to be a passport to less hassle from street-vendors and motorbike taxis (obviously), we should work out soon how much strange meat is actually worth in this town.

At some point maybe we’ll teach an English lesson.