Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
The day begins pretty early in our little Lane - up well before dawn, sweeping, washing and cooking. I'm afraid I'm torn between either enjoying a quiet cup of tea and read of the news, or getting the housework out of the way, before it gets hot. The tea wins most days and I just sweat it out doing the housework later. We now go walking three mornings a week with our next door neighbour - leave at 5.30, walk to the square, five laps round, then home again by 6.30. We're certainly not the first up. There's a group of about 30 women who meet in the square for aerobics type exercises and they're well under way before we arrive. They bring their music equipment and even coordinate in gear of a different colour each day.
First thing, I'll often walk out the lane to the main street for bánh mì (bread rolls) or bánh mì trứng (with fried eggs, cucumber, sauces and herbs) for takeaway breakfast from a little roadside cart. The stall I go to is right on a busy intersection, and as I wait I'm fascinated to watch the chaos around me. All manner of loads going to or from the market and bus station, people on their way to school or work and the food-stalls doing a roaring trade handing out takeaway to passing motorcyclists and serving customers who sit on tiny plastic stools on the footpath. All from a hand cart and using a single burner camp-style gas cooker. If Owen doesn't have an early lecture we can wait till 7.30ish and get them from another cart which comes past the house - convenient but much more mundane.
A walk the few hundred metres to the end of the lane to get veges every couple of days sees me pass an amazing slice of life. Many photo opportunities but few taken as I'm a bit self-conscious about taking photos of the neighbours.
There's Ba Hanh. A couple of doors down she often sits on her front step and reads, chats with friends or watches the world go by. We exchange the odd greetings (limited mainly by my woeful Vietnamese) and she comes over on rubbish days and gets our empties to sell to the "bottlo". The locals apparently can cover their monthly rubbish collection bill by selling their cardboard, cans and bottles to the recyclers. We don't generate much and besides, I'd started giving ours to Hanh before I worked out the system, so we don't bother. (The rubbish, placed outside the gate every second day, is collected by a man with a handcart - for the princely sum of around 60 cents per month).
There's the man squatting with his fighting c*** - one sitting under it's woven bamboo cage, the other between his knees getting it's throat stroked and whispers of encouragement. Would have made a great photo, but I couldn't do it - not least not wanting to appear to endorse such an activity.
There's the tiny shop where I go to buy essentials like soap powder, toilet rolls and plastic bags of UHT milk when we run out of the cartons from the supermarket. I discover all sorts of unlikely things there, but I just cannot understand a word the shopkeeper says - to the point where I'm convinced she speaks some out of town dialect.
Past several little eateries, the dressmaker, hairdresser and outdoor motor mechanics workshop which sees a steady stream of trucks and buses pass our door. There's even a crèche where I sometimes say hello to mothers and their littlies when they're dropping them off.
Right at the end of the lane where it T-junctions with another, a young woman has a vege stall in front of her house. Women often set up little stalls on the side of the road, going to the markets early and bringing back the day's selection. People like me who don't want to travel to the main market can duck out for a few things. I make sure I'm there before 8 o'clock and it's nice and fresh. She even has a bit of meat and fish sitting in containers of crushed ice. I've bought meat a couple of times. One day I'll risk some fish maybe.
We're something of a curiosity here as there are very few foreigners living in QN. Some locals are startled when they see us, some highly amused, others are terrified when they realise we are about to speak to them. People like to ask us where we're from and parents frequently urge their children to come up and speak to us. Kids start learning English in middle primary school, and many also go to private lessons after school and on weekends. Perhaps parents want to see proof their money's well spent? Wages generally are low here so almost all the English teachers at the university run private English schools after hours - or have a second job or business of some sort. University colleagues are diligent about language and will quiz us about aspects of English; they are very keen on idioms, relish quoting them on cue and we often have discussions about the meanings of words, for instance the differences between alley and lane, recreation and entertainment, hobbies and pastimes ... It seriously taxes my vocabulary and their grasp of grammar often leaves me for dead.
I think the people in the lane are intrigued, amused and even pleased to have us living in their midst. We are invited to local events like the street parties and ăn giỗ (celebrations to mark the anniversaries of the deaths of ancestors) - and neighbouring kids come to visit to practise their English with us. It's kind of nice to be living local.
- comments
Zig Thank you Avenel! I love reading about your everyday life in Vietnam. The photos are great. What a very different lifestyle and traditions to experience; but after Timor and China I think you're quite an expert....Are there no other Aussie females around town at all? Well, it sounds like you survived the recent storms - your comments made me go out and buy a few candles ready for our winter!
Lyn and Frank We love your updates as they broaden our knowledge of another culture and their customs. Are there no negatives - as your experiences seem so positive.May life continue to be good for you both.Cheers
Darryl Stock they should come to London - roadworks here take forever!
Darryl Stock in such a place there must be some really nasty looking creepy crawlies!
avenel Yes there are negatives. One of which is we are so out of touch with home we forget friend's birthdays.