Ashtanga Yoga Saigon

Calling all Yogis and Yoginis!
Kimberly Roberts, authorized ashtanga teacher is conducting a yoga workshop at Breathing Room Yoga in Saigon on the 25th - 27th Feb 2006. Please check the website for more details, and register soon as places are limited. This is a rare opportuinity to deepend your practice with a master teacher - see you there!

I spent last week in Phnomh Penh, the capital of Cambodia, such a raw, delicious, and confusing city. In the mornings, I lazed in the tourist cafes on the river side, enjoyed the breeze and the coffee, and rediscovered the joy of reading the newspaper and the delights that the Cambodian press has to offer. The Phnomh Penh Post is so much better than the communist bollocks we are drip fed in the Vietnam News (second worst paper in the world, narrowly defeated by the English daily in Myanmar which is truly, truly horrible). Here are a selection of some of my favorite stories….

Dec 17
Police arrested Thanny (39) after he stabbed two people with a knife during a midnight argument in Sralao Village, Kamp Thom province. Police Officer Chief Rom Sovichea said he was drunk on palm wine and was trying to defend himself after the victims stepped on his foot while dancing at the local disco.

Dec 18
A fisherman Chhun Chhay (46) was shot dead while he slept with his wife in Boeng Chhoukvan Village, Kamp Thom province. His wife told police an unknown man opened the mosquito net and shot him because people were unhappy with him as they thought he was a sorcerer.

Dec 22
Kim Thuon (28) was taken to a provincial hospital yesterday after cutting his testicles off in a pagoda in Kamp Cham district. A pagoda chief said that he probably had a mental problem.

Jan 3
Khat Chan (32) was knifed and injured in a revenge attack at 915 in Sway Pak Village, Prey Veng province. Chan told police that an unknown man appeared from a forest and chopped him three times while walking home from a neighbor’s house where he had been a dinner guest after organizing a search that led to the recovery of a missing cow.

I'm still here!

Hi everyone....

Been getting a few 'are you still alive?' emails from friends, family and lots of strangers..... so this is just to confirm, that, Yes! I am indeed alive, but have been on a yoga bender (yes, it's just like an alcoholic bender, only better for your liver - and the rest of you for that matter...) and that hasn't left much time for blogging. Being a yogi is time consuming passion. Being a blogging yogi is even harder!

Did manage however to take a trip with Minh and a million of his closest relatives back to their ancestral village near Quy Nhon - gorgeous spot, rainy, ringed by mountains, buffalo in the rice fields, muddy roads, tiny well trodden tracks, quaint houses, men with long beards smoking pipes, giant pigs and free range chickens. Very interesting and a blog in itself so I won't spoil it. I'll get the blog done soon and post it next week.

Christmas was spent at the Sailing Club in Mui Ne. 4 days of hot sun and cold drinks, early morning strolls, late afternoon naps. Good friends. Low key. Groovy Christmas.

The yoga studio is great and we have welcomed back all our students for 2006.....already this year we have raised money through one charity workshop to pay for a cleft palate operation through operation smile and it's only 6 days into 2006. We have now paid for 4 operations since we opened 4 months ago - a credit to our wonderful yoga community here at Breathing Room...Also had a guest teacher here for a couple of classes - Michelle Bradley - a wonderful, talented, generous teacher..and I thoroughly enjoyed being taught instead of teaching....Now in the middle of an ashtanga workshop for 6 days with Chris Gladwell which is shaping up to be a transformative experience....

So, more later when I get my internet reconnected at home and I fix my camera so I can download my photos from the past few months.

Happy New Year!

Glittering Sexpats

There are backpackers. There are business travellers. There are expats, and there are sexpats. Sexpats are washed up old perverted wrinklies who you see sitting in Pham Ngu Lao guzzling cheap beer pissing their lives away. Vietnam is an easy place to settle, you can get a crappy job teaching english, live in a $3 a night dive, and spend your free time having sex with young girls or boys for a bargain price.

Maybe things will change now that Garry Glitter has been arrested trying to board a flight from Saigon to Bankok. He is being held for questioning after having sex with underage girls in Vung Tau, and feeling up teenage barmaids. Classy. This type of thing goes on unreported so often here in Vietnam. I just hope that a high profile case like this will bring an end to this gross behaviour from these losers who mock the privelege of calling Vietnam their home away from home.

Earthquake

I felt a strong undulation in my bedroom just after midnight. The walls and floor moved in a steady ripple for a few seconds, I jumped up, unsteady on my feet and wondered if it was possible that the dramatic shooting finale from the DVD I was watching had been a little bit realistic.

But no, the water in my fish tank was slopping from side to side and my fish were struggling....

Thanh Nien newspaper reports that indeed an earthquake measuring 4.5 - 5 on the richter scale was located just off Vung Tau, to the south of Saigon in the early hours of this morning. I've lived through many earthquakes, almost daily when I lived in Taiwan, but they freak me out much more living here! My neighbours houses are held up with bamboo poles! And one of my walls has just been patched up after cracking in the rain! What would a big earthquake under Saigon do? Uh, a horrible thought - fingers crossed....

Did anyone else feel it last night? My fish are undergoing trauma counselling...

Weeping Virgin (?!)

I'm hearing rumours around town from friends that the statue of the Virgin Mary was weeping in Notre Dame Cathedral on Dong Khoi and Le Duan last night.....

I was out last night and we couldn't get parking at Citimart, and the roads were unusually packed, even for a Sunday. I didn't head towards Dong Khoi street but friends say there were crowds outside the church trying to get in. I did notice a very elderly woman being helped across the street by her family and she had a beautiful crystal rosary around her neck, I noticed it at the time, without thinking too much of it.

Has anyone else heard this story? I'm heading down town very soon, so I will swing by and see what I can find out.

The snake charmer

It's the simple community things that happen right outside my front gate that always rock my world and get me blogging again. This morning was no different.


As I cleared the mailbox this fine Thursday morning, I noticed a riverside commotion outside my gate.


I ambled over to the young, male, working class crowd and peered through their feet to try and see what was going on....


It was a snake charmer! And upon spying me, the conspicuous blonde woman in the crowd, pulled out his biggest snake from the cage strapped to the back of his motorbike and begged me to take a picture.


But, on closer inspection, I realised that this toothy grinned character was no charmer at all - but a reptilian butcher. That pile of muck there on the old newspaper is snake guts.


He was making snake wine - Vietnamese Viagra -He sliced the snakes right down the middle, and carefully washed the bodies in a jar full of river water.


He then began to delicately curl the snake bodies inside a clean glass jar, taking more care to roll them perfectly around the contours of the vessel than a rastafarian takes curling his dreadlocks on top of his head.


Once the jar was full, he began to add herbs and spices, woodchips and god knows what else to the mix. In fact, he also added a dead bird whose head had been chopped off. No-one appeared to be concerned that the next flu epidemic that may kill 150 million people will start in Vietnam from the virus in birds. Hell! it's going to start right outside my house!


The man for who was buying the concoction looks on eagerly. His son, just home from school, watches with interest as he rests his hand on Dad's shoulder. He passed over a 500,000 dong note to pay for the snake wine - about $31.00 - a lot for a construction worker.


The crowd look on with eager anticipation. The brew will be shared with them a year from now, after it ferments for extra 'power'.


The plastic water bottle (brand name - 'vital') was full of blood. It was passed around the crowd for us to admire the consistency and color (which to me looked like raspberry coulis).


The medicine man cleaned up the guts, blood and feathers and threw them into the river. He then packed up his little mobile butchery, and drove off down the back streets to service the Viagra needs of more Vietnamese men.

Typhoon Damrey

Well the rest of the world is focussed on the tragedy that hit the southern American states, we seem to have only just realised that Typhoon Damrey is now right on our doorstep here in Vietnam. BBC news reports that

"...the typhoon packed winds up to 198 km/h (125mph) when it hit Hainan, making it comparable with the 193km/h (120mph) gusts recorded when Hurricane Rita hit the Texas-Louisiana coastline over the weekend..."

Hainan, for those of you without a map, is a Chinese island just off the north eastern coast of Vietnam. And now it is heading straight for Nam Dinh and Thanh Hoa province, in northern Vietnam.

Three hundred thousand people have been evacuated from the coastline. In contrast to America, Vietnamese households would have been able to completely empty their houses of most of their posessions, and their entire family on the back of a 100 cc motorbike! Most families don't have more than a change of clothes, a few chickens, agricultural equipment and a matress. The value of these things is arguably greater than that of the family in Texas seen loading their TV into their SUV complaining that they "only had room for one of their TV sets..."

We are now waiting patiently to see what destruction it brings. Remembering of course, that in rural Vietnam, you are doing pretty well if your corrugated iron roof is attached to the walls of your house with large rocks and a bit of string, and if you have running water, you are doing very well.

It's not the Mississipi, but....

For the past two days the river has flooded my entire neighborhood. The Saigon River is able to be smelt from great distances. It's color is black. It's consistency is somewhere between condensed milk and treacle. It is to put it bluntly - quite gross, but life goes on in my neighbourhood. All of these pictures were snapped by me standing in shin deep water from my front gate. Pictures speak louder than words – check it out!


Thanh awoke from his cafe siesta and wondered why his mates had abandoned him.


As Hanh cycled home she had a feeling she had left the bath running.


Viet and Phoung were certain that they had parked their motorbike beside the river.

DJ Honda

There was a crazy noise outside my front gate this afternoon. Treading cautiously as I made my way to the front gate, I peered outside to find DJ HONDA entertaining the neighbors with his dial a disco strapped on the back of his Grandads motorbike.




DJ Honda brings the Karaoke to you. Available for hire for 2000 dong a song (that is about 14 cents).

If your interested in hiring him for your next Thao Dien soiree, as muzak whilst you scoff canapes, contact me and I can get his number for you. He also eats fire, which unfortunately I did not manage to capture on film, but I believe that is a thousand dong extra.

Chasing the Dragon

Last Sunday was the lantern festival in Vietnam. The lantern festival coincides with the brightest moon of the year, and (to a foreigner) is visibly celebrated in 3 ways:

1. By eating mooncakes (I don’t recommend them. A nose wrinkling mash of sour and sweet: boiled egg, pork, lotus seeds, MSG, and other goodies hidden in a sickly sweet glazed bun)
2. By purchasing paper lanterns and letting children play with matches.
3. By Dragon Dancing

Some of you may be familiar with the Chinese custom of dragon dancing. A group of people move the head, body and tail of a dragon (made of parachute silk?) around in a frantic dance accompanied by the frantic banging of anything that can pass as a percussion instrument.

On Sunday evening, Minh and I set off to find a dragon – it was a first class mission. We jumped on the Lambretta and started to cruise the streets looking for dragons. Lo and Behold! At the intersection of Nguyen Thi Minh Khai and Dinh Tien Hoang we spotted 5 trucks with tons of people dressed in matching yellow outfits spilling onto the cab of the truck. We could hear the drums banging from within the cabin. We decided to chase the dragon, darting through the mad streets, trying desperately hard not to lose them.


The trucks: full of dragons waiting to be hatched, barrelling down the highway with us on our Lambreta in hot pursuit.

We passed stalls of vibrant lanterns for sale – quite a spectacle and much more fun than Christmas Eve at your local soulless shopping mall.


This man was so enthusiastic about his product - he seemed to take on the facial features of a lantern.

We pulled into a quiet neighborhood in district 10, and began to attract a lot of attention – yes, we were the weird foreigners on the 50 year old Italian motorbike who crashed the kids party. About 70 people spilled out from the trucks and started to assemble the dragons and the platforms that they would be dancing on. I think in Vietnam, little boys go to dragon dancing club instead of Scouts, and they were AMPED to stay up late and jump around and bang drums. I was too. Here are a few blurry photos that capture the frantic unpacking as they set up for their performance.


The dragons hatch - the kids unload the dragons from the truck.


Preening the dragon - adding the final touches to the dragons head.

And then the fun really began. Ten little midget dragons started dancing through the streets with the littlest kids being the ass of the dragon and they were shaking it – ‘oh yeah, shaking their ass like they just don’t care’. Then the Adults took over and proceeded to do crazy aerial acrobatics on a tiny platform lifting the kids up high into the air. It was in true Vietnamese style quite dangerous. There were hundreds of people crowding the streets cheering and laughing, and shouting over the cacophony.


The crowd watches the dragon as it dances overhead.


The dragons tail flies overhead and kids in the crowd employ some skillful balancing tactics to get a better view.


Mums admire each others babies, oblivious to the crazy dragon acrobatics that the dragon is performing nearby.


The grand finale, with the dragon writhing madly to quickening sound of deep bass drums.

After 40 minutes of moonlit madness - it was time to pack up. The little boys said goodbye and posed for millions of pictures with me, and the teenagers did their best with some inventive pick up lines.


Cute kids and two dragons.

The drive home was wild. Millions of moonstruck Vietnamese cruised the streets of Saigon bathing under the hypnotic moon. It was a long drive back through the suburbs of Saigon, the distant sound of drums, the glow of lanterns, the stench of motorbike fumes, the warm moony night.


The drive home was illuminated by a luminous moon high above the streets of Saigon.


Wierd creatures come out at full moon time - we were driving so fast I could barely tell what was real, and .....well, what is this strolling the Ho Chi Minh City sidewalks?

The very best party I ever crashed. Vietnam at it’s festive best.

How to measure success

I have decided to quantify the success of my fledgling yoga business by the percentage of people who return after their first free class and purchase a concession ticket. So far, 100%!!!! Each happy yoga student has returned with a friend, who in turn returns with a friend…....and so it grows. There has been more than one class where nobody has turned up. I ‘hold the space’, turning the scheduled class into my own personal practice, and so far this week, have had students at every single scheduled class. I was just about to lose hope this morning when I arrived at An Phu Sports Centre to start teaching there, and the class was empty. I sat quietly until 8.30 and then an angel walked through the door. That’s how you start. One person at a time. Patience and a lot of positive thoughts.

It is so great to share something as positive as yoga with others. Many people here in Saigon need to do something healthy to negate the many challenging aspects of residing in this city. People don’t realize that they NEED yoga, until they feel the benefits from their first class. Then they’re hooked.

If you are in Saigon – I warmly extend an invitation to you to come and try a class. For FREE! Really! Just come and check it out. The website link is listed on the right hand side under ‘Breathing Room Yoga’.

Find creative ways to measure your successes. Do what you love. Learn from your mistakes. Believe in yourself.

The Geomancer

Dr Thanh the elderly Geomancer arrived promptly at 9:30am, removed his patent leather shoes and hobbled into the yoga studio.  Clutching a rather trendy ruby red leather PUMA purse, he extracted a compass, a black marker, battered books that looked like they contained spells, a tape measure and a notebook and started measuring angles, walls, doors and windows, and staring softly at the garden.  His teeth were the color of tobacco and his fingers swollen like plump yams.

Minh’s father, upon hearing that I was opening the studio today panicked that we hadn’t consulted a Feng Shui expert, and that’s how we ended up with Dr Thanh analyzing the stuido’s chi, as we sat eating muesli for breakfast.

It was an extremely interesting experience, aided by the fact that Minh and I were frantically trying to translate abstract concepts from our rudimentary grasp of the Vietnamese language.

And, after an hour we had a list of changes that we had to make.

• Keep the kitchen door shut as that is how we lost money, and it would stop us from fighting (we don’t fight – but prevention is better than cure….)


• Attach a 31 inch piece of wood across the doorway to the office and write a prayer on it


• Attach a 103 inch piece of wood across our French doors and write a prayer on it.


• Move the desks into the middle of the room, and block off the most easy access route with two plants


• Swap desks with Minh because I am older


• Place the altar 180 cm above the ground opposite the French doors


• Remove the lucky talismans above the doors from the old tenants and replace with shiny gold plated new ones (which I am afraid are so shiny they may start a fire)

After Minh’s dad handed him a fat envelope full of money he added that Minh and I would be rich and happy.  I guess these things cost extra.

Feng Shui like most things Asian is very trendy in the west, and I have read that companies spend thousands on hiring experts to come and balance the energy in their offices.  I’m sure none of these experts were nearly as cool as Dr Thanh.  He was the real old school Vietnamese geomancer.  At departure, he whispered quietly to us not to tell our neighbors, because he would get in trouble with the Party for propaganda……

Breathing Room

I have been reading this blog called ‘How I am becoming an astronaut’, which is a pretty impressive title…and am thinking of changing mine to ‘How I am becoming a Yogini’.  Not quite as impressive, but, I can comfortably stand on my hand with on earth with a g of gravity trying hard to bring me down.

So, I’ve been doing this: www.breathingroomyoga.com and I open on Monday.  It’s a dream.  It’s a business too, but I am measuring my success by my own fulfillment not dollars in the bank which is what I think we all should be doing.

Hard work, and a bit of a risk, but loving it all.

Back from Yogalalaland

I’m Back

I floated back to Saigon on a cloud of peace, love, mung beans and yoga, and only realized I was back in the heart of Saigon when I awoke to find my taxi driving the wrong way down a 6 lane highway.

For those of you who didn’t know – I traveled to Bali for a month to do a Yoga teacher training. If you are only interested in Saigon, and not Yoga – STOP HERE…the rest is pure yogic revelation and divine insight.

The course was extremely intense, up at the crack of dawn every morning for pranayama (breath control) and meditation. An asana (yoga posture) practice followed that. Late mornings were reserved for yogic philosophy and self inquiry, early afternoons for anatomy, yoga therapy and teaching, and late afternoons for another yoga practice. Evenings were spent learning YogaContact (a form of rehabilitative massage) or watching yoga videos.

Yoga overdose! Normally I would have thought so, but I couldn’t get enough.

Yoga practice was periodically punctuated with lettuce, nuts and seeds. It was a completely vegan, wheat free, sugar free, all things fun and stimulating free diet. Some days it was pretty tough. But, I became so light, my eyes sparkled like I was newly born, my skin shone, even my hair curled gently! Since returning, I have indulged in more than one super cheesy pizza, but no meat – yet.

I don’t know if my personal Saigon Blog is the best forum for me to really express how incredible it was. I experienced one true miracle. I shed a lot of tears. I melted some solid anger that has taken me years to move. I observed 3 days of silence. I swam daily. I strolled through rice fields every morning. I bent myself into paperclip shapes with joy. I was blessed in holy water. I met Ateeka: my most special teacher, friend, guru, bhakti mother. I chanted and sang kirtan as loud as I could every day. I definitely woke God up, and let him know I was back! Yeah baby!

So, how bout some pictures then? Here are some random pictures from my teacher training.


Not a bad way to greet the new day.....the view from our ocean front yogashala in Chandidasa.


Mandala art works, that we did with Renee. Mine is the purple one with the red petals. It's called 'power'.


Getting blessed in sacred waters of the Ashram Lembah Bhayam, and singing to keep ourselves from catching pneumonia.


Blessings in the sacred spring.


The sublime, most incredible Ketut Arsana, at Ashram Lembah Bhayam.


My Bhakti sister, friend, guru: Ateeka, and the incredibly hillarious yogic anatomist - Will


My bungalow in Ubud. The open air design made everyone feel welcome, including the rice rats.


Ah, the swimming pool. You could find me here when I wasn't twisting myself into knots.


Asana adjustment class in our beautiful shala in Ubud. In the morning we were serenaded by a chorus of doves and roosters, and in the evenings, a symphony of carnivorous mosquitos.


Peace


Blokes do yoga too! And they wear skirts! The wonderful boys on our retreat - adding a bit of a balance.


Awahoshi, playing her beautiful crystal bowls for us - a divine experience.


The final goodbye. That's me at the front, looking concerned at my hand...I had just found a baby bird and it was resting in my open palm, much to my wonder and distraction.


My little bird, healed and resting in the garden, completely unafraid of people.

More pictures as I feel inspired. Working very hard towards new business opening this Monday! One guess what it will be? I'll keep you posted, and might see some of you for a spiritual workout.

Returning soon...

A little sad to discover that no-one even seemed to notice I was away. However, I haven't missed being 'disconnected' at all. In fact, it is incredible what you can really connect to without the distraction of a computer.

Returning back to Saigon on Thursday - and will update you all on photos and stories from the most MIRACULOUS month of my life here in Bali.

Overflowing with JOY and ABUNDANCE!

See you soon.

Holy Shit

Holy Shit!

Today my key chain protector David Beckham noticed some large round brown pine cone looking seed things underneath my Frangipani Tree.




I turned my head an inch to the right, and saw the biggest caterpillar I have ever seen in my life munching it's way through Frangipani leaves like it was last call at a Chinese buffet.




Not even David a-loreal-contract-is-not-worth-this-pink-perm can stop it.

Happiness is

....buying fresh flowers at the local market.




On a rainy, slightly gloomy day, get yourself down to your local market and buy some flowers.

Buy some for yourself, and some for someone else. Put them in your house, your office, your hotel room. Wear them in your hair. Give them to the nice lady at reception. Offer them at the temple. Use them as confetti. Give them to the cleaner. Brighten up the taxi. Give them to strangers.

How can you overlook this wonderful shopping opportunity? Flowers are stupidly cheap here. For example, these beautiful sacred lotus flowers were just 1000 dong each. That's around 6 cents a stem.




And these cheery sunflowers were just 3000 dong each - that's about 20 cents a stem.




Lotus flowers are suprisingly difficult to find in Vietnamese markets. The only market I have found them at is Ben Thanh, and you have to buy them before midday or they will all be sold out.

So, the next time you are having an introspective moment, or the toll of shopping and sightseeing is getting you down, wander into the local flower market. Appreicate the women, who, perched high on their little stools surrounded by colorful blooms, delight in sharing nature's short lived treasures.

Organik Vietnam

This is the way things are here in Saigon at the moment...

1. You have a great idea
2. You verbalise the idea "wouldn't it be a great idea if someone decided to (insert brilliant entrepreneurial idea here)......."
3. The next day a random flyer appears in a random place for the aforementioned new idea.

A few weeks ago I was lamenting the absence of a really good organic produce store here in Saigon. A place where you could stock up on health food products, vitamins, organic produce....... The very next day I picked up a flyer for Organic Vietnam, a company specialising in home delivery of organic vegetables from a certified farm in Dalat. I was so excited, I called immediately, but was waiting for my first home delivery before I praised it over the blogosphere.

This morning my delivery arrived! By a nice man with an overloaded motorbike! 8am! 3kg of succulent spray-free, human-pooh-fertiliser free vegetables!


dare-you to-mash-me-into-pasta-sauce tomatoes


promise-you-won't-cry onions


guaranteed-bird-flu-free eggplant

Harry Potter and the Half-Assed Copy

Pirated copies of Harry Potter have been making headlines of all the major newspapers today. Asking if it is available on the streets of Saigon, is like asking whether Ho Chi Minh was a communist. I caught up with Mr Nguyen (a real person who shares his name with about a quarter of all men in Vietnam) about his Potteresque experience on the mean streets of Pham Ngu Lao.

Rice Bowl: Why didn't you buy a full price original version at Fahasa on Saturday you cheap bastard?

Mr Nguyen: I doubt miss BILLIONAIRE Rowling will notice.

Rice Bowl: Where did you finally manage to purchase this copy?

Mr Nguyen: At an illegal copy bookstore in District One.

Rice Bowl: Was it openly for sale, or was it hiding behind a copy of the Communist Parry Manifesto?

Mr Nguyen: It was hiding. I had to give a complex series of hand signals and wait round the corner. On the cover, Dumbledore was disguised as Ho Chi Minh.

Rice Bowl: Nice. The cover photocopying looks pretty good, but a bit washed out. More importantly, how is the quality of the binding?

Mr Nguyen: I dont think it will last past the first week... (opens book and pages begin to fall out)... Actually it is really bad.

Rice Bowl: Does it have that sexy new book smell, or some other Vietnamese odour?

Mr Nguyen: It's got the skanky photocopy shop smell with a faint whiff of cheap toner cartridge.

Rice Bowl: I know you don't take drugs, or stay up to see the Sunrise at Lost in Saigon....Did you feel naughty buying goods on the black market?

Mr Nguyen: I'm still looking over my shoulder.

Rice Bowl: Have you checked the consistency of language in the book? For example does it change into Russian halfway through? And what about the pages in the right order? Too much to ask?

Mr Nguyen: I'm fairly optimistic

Rice Bowl: Thankyou for your time. And a word of caution, don't read while driving that motorcycle.

Mr Nguyen: (Already reading and quite distracted) Thankyou.

Cao Lao

Cao Lau. I lie awake dreaming about it.This is Vietnamese noodular deliciousness at it's best. Unfortunately, it is not available streetstyle here in Saigon. You have to travel a long way north to Hoi An to get it. So, when wedding duties called me northwards last weekend, I had 5 days and nights to get my tastebuds dripping for what was going to be a CaoLao fest. How many bowls could I consume in a weekend?


cao lau

This is Cao Lau. A bowl of Cao Lau consists of fettucini shaped rice noodles, lean grilled pork, crunchy mouthfulls of deepfried pork fat, bean sprouts, and some greens. The sauce at the bottom consists of an aromatic mixture of succulent pork juices and fish sauce. The ratio of greens to meat means that it can be enjoyed by vegetarians or detoxing yoginis. Try to have some patience to crumble a dry rice cracker over it, then add rice vinegar, then gently stir ......ah, you never actually finish mixing it properly as it is always in your mouth by then.

The noodles are traditionally made from the clear waters of the Ba Le well. The noodles made from this water are supposed to give you immortality, and work as an aphrodisiac......blah blah blah, it's all BS. Here is a picture of the famous well anyway. (It was totally dry when I looked in....so where's all the Cao Lau coming from?)




But all Cao Lau is not created equal. Sometimes the meat is too lean. Sometimes it is cold. Sometimes they overdose on the mint. Sometimes they don't supply extra rice vinegar. But Miss Ly has perfected the Cao Lau. I have eaten over 100 bowls of her Cao Lao in my life, and have introduced her Cao Lau to well over 200 people. She knows her noodles. It is truly the best in town. She has moved from her groovy traditional style place next to the market, to 3 Nhi Trung Street. She will be back beside the market in September, after the government have finished renovating her place. Drop in, tell her I said Hi.

I managed to eat 5 bowls of her Cao Lau in a 72 hour stay. Not bad I reckon.

Cho Lon

Some of my regular readers may have noticed my lack of blogging lately - it's only temporary - I promise! There have been some huge changes in my life and it hasn't left a lot of spare time for writing. I have left my job, and am in the process of studying and completing my written assignments for my yoga course in August. I'm also setting up a small business of my own here in HCMC.

Yesterday, I spent a fantastic day out in District 5. That is the Chinese quarter of town, and I haven't been out there for a while. You head down Tran Hung Dao A (the nice section) and then it suddenly turns into dirty old Tran Hung Dao B where everything is written in Chinese and sofas and fridges are transported on motorbikes. It is true beautiful Vietnamese madness at its bestworst. I had some rather unusual items on my shopping list - things I couldn't even find words for in my Vietnamese-English dictionary. So, it became a game of Pictionary. I would draw desired random item with no Vietnamese name on a piece of paper, and a friendly stranger on a 1960's motorbike would drive me around the backstreets of the worlds most hectic chinese market looking for it. And, I am pleased to report that with a good attitude, a lot of patience and an attitude of looking death straight in the eye (those roads are killers) I found everything I needed. Excellent.

It was a brilliant productive day, and I highly recommend all Saigon based readers or potential visitors to head out there for a Sunday drive, eat some dim sum, get your tea leaves read, buy some lanterns, buy some herbs, in fact buy all sorts of cheap crap that you didn't even know you needed. Go early, like 4 am to beat the crowds...actually, that won't make any difference. People are always working in Cho Lon. Be prepared to give up all personal space and notions of cleanliness, and you will have a blast.

I am waiting for my modem, so I can blog from home, email cafes don't get my creative juices flowing I'm afraid. I will try and post a Cho Lon photo essay in the weekend when I am hooked up at home.

Cops, Collarbones and Karma

This post was written on Monday morning and was not published as I was interrupted mid keystroke by some bad news...

Last night, after getting stuck in the rain on a motorbike I was so cold that I had to stand under the shower for 10 minutes to warm up. I didn't even know that we had hot water as it is always too hot to use it. I rummaged thr

Ring Ring
"N, this is J, M is in hospital, she has had a motorbike accident"

I don't remember logging off or paying the cyber cafe. I rushed to the hospital. M had broken her collarbone and badly cut her hip. She was in a state of pleasant opiation, and was in morphinically good spirits. Despite this, she told me a horrible story that I must share with you.

She hit a guy on a bike who was driving the wrong way down the highway. Standard stuff here in Vietnam. As she was lying on the road, broken, bleeding, unable to move, a crowd of gawkers gathered and one of them reached into her bag and stole her MP3 player from in front of her. The police put her in a taxi (with the man who had crashed into her) and they drove her away from the hospital, down a few side alleys, and proceeded to try and get her out of the taxi in the middle of nowhere. One can only speculate on their intentions. I don't want to go there.

This is not the first time I have heard first hand stories of people being robbed as they lie broken and bleeding on the highway. There is a man in FV hospital right now with a 20 % chance of living because as he lay on the highway he passed his phone to someone to call for help and they ran off with it. He was then left lying on the floor of the police station for 6 hours while his brain swelled. I don't know what will happen to him, but it doesn't sound good.

Come on Vietnam. Your reputation is being spoiled by a small minority of ASSHOLES. No-one can escape their own karma. Your actions always catch up with you eventually. You may be poor, but that is no reason to steal off people lying dying and hurting on the roads. I hope I don't here any more stories like this ever again. It is destroying my faith in human nature.

Feel my Dong

I've always wondered if I really should be linking to Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch on my blog. I'm not a paranoid person - but I am living in Vietnam...... I don't really know if I am allowed to do these things.

Things are not as bad here as they are in China. Tze Ming (who I just found out is actually an old University friend of mine) has the latest on the Blog Police up in China in her great blog: Yellow Peril. And if you are in China, and are trying to get around the Great Fire Wall of China, you can read how to dodge the system and post those naughty words like 'democracy' and 'Feel my dong' here. (By the way, "feel my dong" is not banned in Vietnam, and you can say it to Coppers when they pull you over on the highway, so long as you have a phat rubber band bound wad of dong to back you up).

What I really like about the previous site is the clear, step by step instructions on how to post forbidden words on your blog IF YOU SPEAK ENGLISH, and the clear, step by step instructions (in English) on how to post forbidden words on your blog IF YOU DONT SPEAK ENGISH.

Another commentor on the aforementioned website posted this which I thought was pretty wicked....

De/\/cR4CY k4NN07 8e 84NNeD

The Stork

It's nice to hear some good biodiversity news from Vietnam once in a while.

In the Thanh Nien newspaper there is a report that

the local people of Phong Binh commune, Phong Dien district, Thua Thien Hue province have found two strange and very rare birds, which are named in Vietnam Red Book as most at risk of extinction. The department defines the two birds as belonging to Ciconiidae stork group, Cionliormer stork species, called Java Leptoptilos Javanicus birds.

These storks are commonly known as the Lesser Adjutant Stork.



These regimented looking birds with the low self esteem sounding name are found throughout SE Asia, in decreasingly small quantities. They are very rare in Vietnam, and they are pretty hard to miss - standing over 100cm tall. I thought the only place to possibly see birds this big in Vietnam was at the zoo. I am very encouraged to think that these groovy birds are roaming freely somewhere beyond the confines of smelly cages.

Goodbye Stubby

Minh and I came to the very sad conclusion today that our beloved katten, Stubby, has finally left for good.




One evening about 8 months ago, our neighbors thrust a tiny little tabby with a mutated stump for a tail at us. They had lopped the end of his tail off with a meat cleaver, and decided he wasn't so cute any more - did we want him?? Yes, we did. We called him Stubby in honor of his suffering that produced his little tail.

We took him in, cleaned him up and got him a little bowl, and made him a little house under the bamboo lounger out of an old backpack. Minh spent weeks scooping up 'Stubby grenades' that he liked to leave under the stairs and beside the bean bags. He attempted on several occasions to eat our terrapins and took more than one heartfelt swipe at the goldfish, but apart from that was very well behaved. He even became useful - bringing us a sacrificial rat, and several large cockroaches as gifts which we gratefully accepted. We fattened him up on imported canned fish and biscuits that cost more than an average meal for most people in our neighborhood.

Stubby had been fighting with two big tom cats in recent weeks. Minh and I kept him inside, and had waterguns and brooms beside the door to assault the stray bastards if they came on our property to torment our little pet. He got in a big fight a few weeks ago, and became lame, lethargic and lost his appetite. Minh had to take him to the vet, and he seemed to be better after a mystery vaccination for something that was completely lost in translation.

We saw him on Sunday evening when we got back from Can Tho. He wasn't hungry and seemed depressed again. We haven't seen him since. I think, this time, he has gone for good.

Vietnamese optimism

I have been reading about the Vietnamese PM's historic visit to the US. He met Gates the other day, and now he is lunching with Bush. Apparently we will receive Bush here on Vietnamese soil next year! Lucky us.

I am always surprised reading American papers when writers appear genuinely amazed that Vietnam has 'moved on'. Some people hold grudges forever. Not the Vietnamese. Not even my local noodle man who has a leg missing from the war. He proudly wears a UCLA T shirt every day!

The Vietnamese are amazingly able to pick themselves up and get on with (the very big job) of building a future for their country. This is echoed in the words of the PM himself whose talks with Bush were reported as having:

'no reference to the past animosity, but a focus on the future'.

Vietnam completely *sucks* when it comes to some things, (off the top of my head: human rights, traffic management, town planning, bureaucratic efficiency, corruption, stormwater drains) but their ability to remain optimistic about the future is nothing short of awesome.

Can Tho

Minh and I have been looking for an old Lambretta to renovate for fun, a weekend project. These bikes are really hard to find in Ho Chi Minh City, as everyone who owns them has done them up and are selling them off for $1500USD. You have to go further afield.

Which is why we packed a small bag on Saturday morning, and drove for 5 hours to the heart of Vietnam's Rice Bowl, Can Tho in the Mekong Delta.

We took Chau and Lam with us to help with the finer art of Vietnamese negotiations.


We stopped at a local restaurant in Can Tho and the friendly chef tried to sell us dried sea horse and blowfish. By the look on our Vietnamese friends faces, we decided to abstain - they weren't going near the stuff, an neither were we.


After enjoying something floating in seafood broth, I discovered the same thing floating down the restaurant's toilet.


After a long mission through the countryside of Can Tho, we made it to the famous Lambretta dealer, who had 5 or 6 old lambrettas in his yard. This one looked pretty good, and Minh checked all the serial number to make sure it was legit.


This Lambreta actually ran! The motor sounded awesome. I wanted to get this one for proudly cruising around Saigon on a Friday night, but Minh thought it needed to much work.


Too much work? No! The body looked fine to me.


Well, the seat could definitely do with replacing, my ass is not going to be too happy caught between those springs.


We moved on to the next place, a little house in a small village in the middle of Nowhere. By this time we had picked up an army of 6 local Vietnamese to help us with our purchase. I don't know who they were or why they were following us.


I was more interested in what the Women were cooking for dinner. In the blue bowl are 3 sets of slightly charred pigs feet. We didn't stay for dinner.


The deal was done, we scored the Lambretta for $200USD (a rip off? We don't know). We checked in to a local hotel overlooking this great statue of Uncle Ho.


Feeling hungry after seeing the Pork feet in a bucket, we stepped out for a snack. Mmmm, Bun Thit Nuong, bbqed Pork fat on a baguette for 20 cents US.


And then for the 'real' dinner we had some Lau. (I know I have written about Lau a million times already on this blog - but it's my favorite food). This seafood soup came with goop scooped out of the river - Yum.


After our Goop Soup we walked home along the riverfront and stumbled upon a street concert - Can Tho style. It was a 'wear a condom and don't get Aids' benefit complete with great easy to understand happy condom posters and dancing girls.


Love it - the happy OK condom.


The next morning, we boarded a little boat to the obligatory trip on the river to see the Cai Rang floating market. First stop - Petrol. There are rules for this.
1.Make sure you smoke cigarettes in the petrol station.
2.Don't turn the motor off when you fill the motor.
3. Drive off without removing the petrol pump from the gas tank.


The things you see on the river are awesome - this lady is transporting various forms of delicious foliage to be made into Goop Soup.


Here is the Cabbage Salesman, chopping off the dead leaves and chucking them onto the boat next door.


You can tell what each boat is selling by the long bamboo pole tied with Today's Available Produce. In this case, onions.


Felt a bit bad for disrupting his bath, but he didn't seem to mind. Not to sure how clean you're going to get from Mekong Mud Water.


Stopping off at a local orchard, we had to politely enjoy our hosts mini zoo complete with snakes, porcupines, crocodiles, monkeys and my favorite - birds who could whistle Nokia ring tones.


We perused the menu for a mid morning snack, but couldn't find anything we really felt like.


The owner, and Minh discussed the similarities in price between a 1959 Lambretta and a crocodile. Our host couldn't believe we had traveled for 5 hours to purchase an old bike that didn't work when we could have got a pair of endangered crocodiles that never broke down.

He had a point, and we returned to Ho Chi Minh City late last night, wondering if it were better to have an old Lambretta that didn't work sitting in our yard or a pair of endangered Mekong crocodiles.

Pasifika Saigon

Friday night was the unofficial and illegal opening of the New Zealand Chamber of Commerce at the Sofitel Hotel. It was a great night. We have a new Consul General, Mr Peter Healy, who is a fantastic guy and I think he is really going to help us Kiwis here in Vietnam. There was a lot of energy and optimism from the 30 or so kicks there. It is definitely going to be a great few years for us here in Vietnam.


To celebrate a Maori performing arts group came and performed for us - it was AWESOME! Watching a haka this far from home, bought tears to all of our eyes. Absolutely wicked.


Oh yes, it is times like these when I have half naked Pacific Island men standing in front of me shaking it like a Napier earthquake that I begin to feel extremely homesick.


After the performance, we took the boys out on the town. Minh is coming to New Zealand with me next year, so he took a few lessons on how to be a tough Maori warrior. Not too bad for a Vietnamese boy?


We ended up at Lush, the new club on Ly Tu Troung Street. Actually, I wasn't too impressed. It was such a scene, and there was nowhere to dance. I think it was all a bit much for our dreadlocked warriors who couldn't quite believe that they were in the middle of communist Vietnam. The girls in the group were forbidden from wearing their coconut bras while performing their traditional Raratongan dances in Hanoi, and then they walked into this moshpit of skin, silicon tits and uber-skank fashion.

It was an awesome, funny, drunken night. This crew were so Porirua-Groovy, such wonderful ambassadors for Aotearoa, and they touched the hearts of all us Kiwis who were lucky enough to party with them for one long Saigon night.

Assignment Two

Just received assignment two for my yoga course. It is an interesting one.

I have to make a proposal for completing 10 hours of non-paid karma yoga in my community after I complete my training.

The funniest things is, that I had a dream about this a few nights ago, so had already started to make preparations for it.

I have a really good idea. I am proposing to go back and teach some doctors and nurses I used to teach English to a few years ago. They work at a non-profit spinal injury hospital , and were the most dedicated, groovy, compassionate people I had the pleasure to meet here in Saigon. I figure, as physical therapists, and rehabilitators, they will have as much to teach me as I have to share with them. They work for peanuts and could never afford the luxury of attending yoga classes here in the city either.

That's my plan. It's in the pipeline. I'll let you know when it begins to be realised.

Update

Aparently, the hostage drama is over. One child died.

Numb

Cambodian Hostages

I've just read with some alarm about the unfolding hostage situation in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

No one likes a hostage situation. Especially not one involving kids. And as teacher sitting here in Grade 4 classroom in nearby Ho Chi Minh City, with friends teaching at the international school in Phnomh Penh, I am not liking it very much at all.

I used to work in Siem Reap. I was a tour guide for an Australian Company. I led groups of 15 middle aged, very white, very wealthy, often naive travelers around Asia. It was a tough job at times. I was always particularly unnerved by the massive polarity between 'us' and 'them' in Cambodia, especially Siem Reap.

Siem Reap has some great temples, sure. But, apart from that, it is a tiny insignificant little town that would normally never need an international school let alone make international headlines or require an airport. Thanks to Hollywood filmmakers, celebrity adoptions, international opera singers and slick marketing by multinational hotel chains - it has become quite a holiday spot. I used to stay in 4 and 5 star resorts there, and was unsettling to step from the manicured heavily guarded gates to the streets where everyone was sleeping in hammocks in the dust. I mean, it is like that everywhere in SE Asia, but is was more noticeable there. We stood out even more than normal, and I was uncomfortable with that. Cambodias past is more gruesome, more fresh, more raw than that of her neighbors.

If I was an uneducated young boy who had been raised in the countryside on a steady diet of Khmer Rouge glory stories, I would investigate the possibility of a lucrative little hostage business too. I don't blame them.

I do hope though, as I look at 25 little empty desks in front of me right now, that those kids are ok.

Weather Pixie

Look! (scroll down and look on the sidebar) I have two resident weather pixies looking after my site! One is sending weather and appropriate fashion data from New Zealand, and the other, suitable attire for our humid tropical days here in Vietnam.

The Vietnam weather pixie seems to spend most of her days impersonating Pamela Anderson in a red one piece bathing suit.

It's quite insane what people will do with some free time. I mean, would you have thought of coordinating the worlds pixies into a global cyber team of cutting edge weather reporters?

Scooby Doo at Lotteria

I teach a young boy called Young Jae in the evenings. Yesterday was his birthday. He was 6 or 7 or maybe 8 (he didn't know). Anyway, I took him out to Lotteria, Vietnam's scariest fast food outlet for a birthday meal. He was pretty happy about that as he got out of doing his weekly spelling test.


"Miss Nicky, burgers are better than spelling tests"

Young Jae started to choke on his fishburger when he saw Scooby Doo running up the street in the rain singing happy birthday. Young Jae couldn't believe that Scooby Doo spoke good English, knew his name,and just happened to be solving a mystery at 'Wonderland' in Saigon. He was (for the first time in his life) dumbstruck.


"Miss Nicky, hanging with Scooby is definitely better than spelling tests"

After the initial shock wore off, he proudly dragged Scooby Doo around by the collar introducting him to the staff and customers, but regreted that he had no Scooby Snacks in his pockets.


"Miss Nicky, can I throw icecream at Scooby?"

It was a pretty special day. It was a birthday this kid will never forget, an hour of *brilliant* acting Minh will never get paid for, and an experience I am happy to have shared with such a special-groovy-cool kid.

Matariki

Matariki is the celebration of the Maori New Year.

The Maori New Year is celebrated from when the seven stars commonly known as the Pelaides rise in the sky, until the sighting of the next new moon. That is, today.

Seasonally, Matariki was an important indicator for the health of forthcoming crops. Brighter stars meant that temperatures would be warmer thus producing a more abundant harvest.

Furthermore, the Maori, as great astronomers and ocean navigators, used these stars for their long voyage to Aotearoa, New Zealand.

Matariki was always important when I lived on Waiheke Island. The local community celebrated the Matariki with art installations, sculptures, traditional music, and lots of kai at the local marae. I remember it as being a very inclusive, earthy family time for everyone, be they brown, white or beige.

It wish I was home right now. I wish I was lying in the grasses by the beach, having these stars pointed out to me by my wise and proud Maori friends. Wrapped up in crotched blankets knitted by Gran. Pounamu proudly around my neck. A thermos of milo.


My old home, Waiheke Island

Thingycotyledon

One of the difficult parts of my job is that I can't speak, read, write or in any way understand Korean. Now, this is proving to be a great challenge at the moment because I am running the class entirely by myself because my Korean co-teacher is in hospital. And all the materials, texts, CD Roms, DVD's are in Korean. Teachers, while seeming to be all knowing fountains of knowledge are actually just extremely skillful at reading the teachers notes under the desk whilst teaching at the same time. Trouble is, my teachers book is in Korean.


Aaaagh! Today this is all I had to work with!

I've been doing this job for a while, and I am somewhat of an expert to be able to work out the implied concepts of a Grade Four Korean textbook just by looking at the pictures. But today, I was beaten. I couldn't remember the names of the two different types of root and leaf systems. And why would I? I'm a 4th grade teacher, not a professor of plant biology! I had to WIKIPEDIA it just to remember that I had in fact learned this in university - but certainly not in the 4th grade.




And just in case you ever find yourself thrown into a 4th grade science class, and the teacher asks you a question, the leaf on the right is monocotyledon and the leaf on the left is dicotyledon.

Anyway, linguistic gymnastics aside, we had a great afternoon digging up the schools tropical gardens and completely did away with all vocabulary. Learning by doing is always so much better.

Assignment One

Just received Assignment One from my yoga course. I have to write a one sentence description of WHO I REALLY AM. Apparently, the description can yet to be fully realized, but it helps us to really see our own potential, and reinforces what we want to be.

It's pretty hard. Who really am I? Who am I really? I was scribbling all over scrap paper in bed last night and got further and further away from what I really thought I should be writing.

Well I'm certainly not going to post it here. Those of you who think you know me would really laugh.

Have a go...try and do it tonight. It's a worthwhile exercise.

The New Old Old Russian Market

The 'Old Old Russian Market' was on the corner of Nguyen Hue and Le Loi Streets and was fantastic. It was filled to overflowing with pirated sports wear and fake fur coats one could use to survive a Siberian winter. Of course, you could buy Vodka too. You had to haggle and grab stuff out of the clutches of real Russians which always added a danger element to your shopping experience. People were asleep all over the floor and it stunk of cigarettes. It was cheap. It was dirty. It was awesome. It got cleaned up a few years ago in to 'The Tax Centre', and lost a lot of it's charm. It now sells more mainstream stuff, real watches, designer sunglasses and makeup. It has a hypnotising NOKIA flashing sign on the side of the building and a Highlands Cafe. Need I say more.

So the 'Old Old Russian Market' stallholders moved to Saigon Square. Located on Hai Ba Trung Street, it became known as the 'New Russian Market' (but is from this weekend to be known as the 'Old Russian Market'). Here, you could occasionally see, (and hear) Russians. This Russian Market was great for buying snowboarding gear. For my last trip back home, I bought Columbia pants and a jacket with change out of a crisp $20. The usual copy DVD's and fake Gucci bags keep the punters coming. It remained a bit of it's communist jumble sale atmosphere but was a bit too polished around the edges.

The 'New Russian Market' is now on Nam Khi Khoi Nghia street and I visited it on Saturday. It has no charm of the old markets. It is clean. You could eat off the floor. There are no Russians. No-one is asleep in their booths. No-on is cutting their toenails on the floor. There are no Russians. There aren't many fur coats. There is no vodka. There are no rodents, roaches or pets that I saw. There are no Russians.

Salsa Police

The salsa police have raided La Casa Latina and forced my good friend to cease teaching salsa.

The Vietnam News explains the situation:

The Ministry of Public Security, in particular, is required under the Prime Minister’s decree to conduct a nationwide inspection of karaoke bars, dance halls and other places prone to social evils such as prostitution or illegal drug use.

I love that word: social evils. It makes me feel like such a bad ass. Who thought one could be awarded with such a title just for doing a little dancing?

At least I can still ride a bike without a helmet, and run red lights, and bribe cops to keep my house unburgled. It's good to see police resources channeled into the areas where they are really needed.

Mini Musharaff

Last night I had one of those really strange conversations whereby you have absolutely nothing relevant or useful to contribute, and feel like you're drowning in interesting facts, but still enjoy the one sidedness of it.

A good friend of mine who used to live in Saigon, returned for a visit, skipping the last two weeks of classes in his MBA program at Stanford.

He told me about his most recent field trip to Russia where he visited the multi billion dollar nickel mines in Siberia. Nickel, apparently is used in the manufacture of Stainless Steel). The people who own these mines are uber-rich, making 'a billion dollars a quarter'. He described the security at some firms he visited in Moscow, claiming they were very similar to the beginning of the cult 60's show ' Get Smart'. You know where the doors shut behind you before the next ones open? Cool.

Next year, he hopes to visit India and Pakistan with Musharaff's son (who is enrolling in the Stanford MBA program next year). I guess if there is ever a time to a field trip to Nuclear weapons sites and so on and so forth, it is when you are on a field trip with the son of the dictator (who apparently is an actuary) and not nearly as scary as Mini Me, son of the great Dr Evil.

This of course, was quite fascinating to me, and even with margin for hyperbole (he had a captive audience) was still great dinner time conversation. I told him about my plans to sit in the Bali sun and say 'om', and bend myself into pretzel shapes while eating rabbit food for a month in August, and he thought that was pretty all right too.

I like having friends who are impossibly different to me, and are inspired by things that I can barely comment on. It makes me realise the hugeness of it all.

Primates on bicycles

Yesterday afternoon we took our class to the circus where they were entertained by monkeys riding bicycles without helmets around the ring while I cringed in the corner.

As we were leaving, my co-teaching partner for Grade Four stepped outside onto the footpath and something travelling at dangerous speeds bowled him clean over flipping him up onto his head. I didn't see who hit him, it could have been a person on a honda dream, or it may have been an escaping monkey.

He is now in FV hospital here in Saigon and no-one is quite sure when he will be back. He has broken teeth, a broken nose, and a possible broken jaw. Luckily, he has no brain or spinal damage. I have had the unenviable job of explaining to my kids that their Korean teacher is in hospital. They are all extremely upset and are making the sweetest get well cards I have ever seen. I don't think this is the time to tell them that I will be leaving at the end of Semester One.

The Vietnamese Government is trying desperately hard to try and control the number of traffic accidents here. On certain highways you have to wear helmets, such as the one to my school in Phu My Hung. But people take them off as soon as they pass the cops! If they make it onto someone's head, they are never fastened. Often the driver wears one, but will not protect the head of his wife or that of their three children hanging off the bike behind him.

It's insane here. Now we need helmets just to cross the road. And it's not only motorbikes we need to watch out for. There may be unlicensed primates on the loose too.

Miss Vietnam

Scandal on the Vietnamese catwalks!

Miss Vietnam is not actually Miss Vietnam. She is an imposter and the real one is in England with her head in her books.

Click on the link to read the full story from our friend Noodle Pie. Make sure you vote in his celebrity death match poll "Real Miss Vietnam versus Unreal Miss Vietnam" And after voting enhance your image of the fight by reading my description of a real disco catfight in "Pointy Shoes".

Productive afternoon

Do you like my new header?? It's been a rainy afternoon here in Saigon, what better thing to do than to learn how to use photoshop and a bit of HTML? (thanks Minh x)

International relations update

Further to our current survey on who Vietnam is strenthening diplomatic ties with today, I am pleased to report that......"Viet Nam will send agriculture and trade delegations to Sudan to seek opportunities for further investment and co-operation, said Prime Minister Phan Van Khai yesterday."

Excellent, Sudan. Yes, everybody needs to invest in Sudan. They have petroleum. Vietnam has rice. Might work out quite well. Vietnam could learn something about how to keep people alive without potable water, or why women don't need to be educated.

Life's different when you love your job

So, here I am sitting at my computer about to lose my job, and a message for a NZ employment company flashes up on my computer and says teasingly...

"life's different when you love your job"

Do I love my job? No.

Yesterday I was verbally threatened to sign a new contract (backdated until February 2005) which will effectively fine me if I leave, increases my work hours, and takes away any last remaining reasons I am here doing this job.

I declined, and they carried on threatening me stating that I would not receive payment tomorrow for the month of May if I did not sign.

Further, they would inform "every school and company that I was a bad girl and I would never ever work in Ho Chi Minh City again".

Unfortunately, Vietnamese Labor Laws (whatever good they would be anyhow) do not cover me here because I am illegally employed by a school that is on some kind of dodgy tax free agreement with the government.

Do I love my job? No.

There is an option to take my yoga teacher training next month (2 months before scheduled) which would be great -so if I lose my job, I don't care. I will train to do something which I love. And the money will follow.

Dude, where's my neighbourhood?

My neighbourhood has gone missing.

I live in a lane of narrow and confusing alleys, and there are many different ways to get to my house. Instead of turning left off the highway last night, I turned right.

And, to my suprise my neighbourhood was gone. All the houses were demolished, and people and dogs were sifting through the shit that was left behind.


Where's the corner store?

Where's my noodle shop?

Where's my neighbourhood?

Battery Dance Company

On Sunday afternoon, we chanced upon a performance by a NYC based modern dance company at the HCMC Opera House. It's always this way here in Ho Chi Minh City- nothing is advertised. EVER. The only way you get to see anything is if you happen to drive by a venue and translate the poster into English. Or, if you have a crew of like minded friends constantly on the look out for interesting things to do who are quick on the SMS.




Anyway, tickets were not for sale, but we queued up outside anyway in the stinking heat in the hope we could sneak in. The director of the company came out as the final bell rang and let us all in for free. Sweet.

The show was presented by the American Consulate as part of the 10 year anniversary celebrating the normalisation of relations between the two countries. The program included 4 pieces by Battery Dance Company and two by the HCMC ballet.

The HCMC ballet and orchestra DESPERATELY needs more of these cultural exchanges. Having seen them perform several times over the years, I think that they really tried to perform something 'innovative' to impress their NYC guests. The second piece, performed by a quartet of Freddie Mercury impersonators to 80's synth rock, missed the mark so badly that at the end of the piece I was slumped so low in my seat I could hardly see the stage anymore. They do their very best, and I'm sure the artists dance for love only, as the salary must be a pittance. Hopefully, by receiving more ideas and inspiration from foreign dance companies, the standard will rise in the future.

The four pieces by the Battery Dance Company were welcomed by the culture starved crowd. The five dancers moved independently of each other, yet remained linked through symbiotic movements. There were no corps de ballet nor soloists. Gender roles were blurred as the two women took turns shared their burdens of the lifting. Culture was blended as Caucasians and African American shared the beats of Native American rhythms. I loved the final piece called "Secrets of the Paving Stones". Performed to music by the Cracow Klezmer Band, for me it evoked feelings of European countryside and traditional character dance. I loved the bare feet and the layered Autumn coloured costumes, most of which ended up on the floor. The pirouettes performed by Jane Sato and Lydia Tetzlaff near the end as the Violin reached a crescendo were dizzying.

Best of all, it was 30 degrees outside - the theatre was air conditioned, and the performance wasn't halted halfway through due to a power cut. A perfect Sunday.

Vespa

On Saturday, Minh and I took Vespa out for a day of treatments, as we had been neglecting her and the neighbours had been complaining at the louder than gunshot backfirings that reverberate around our alley.

Just around the corner of Le Thai To (AKA Vespa street) is our Vespa mechanic. He operates his highly efficient workshop on the side of the street, beside a stall selling pumpkin seeds and in front of his bicycle which acts as courtesy car and tool belt. Despite first appearances, there is order in this chaos.



Our mechanic was having a little bit of trouble diagnosing the problems so he called his mate over to help him a bit.




It turned out that all Vespa needed was a shot superglue in her electrical system to keep her running for another few months (aaaaaahhh, so simple, and yet so effective)




Since we were on such a roll, and had only been charged $1.20 for labour and parts thus far, we decided to have a new odo fitted.




We thanked our friend, hoping not to see him again for a little while at least. Forty minutes of Vietnamese engineering genius for a sweetly purring motorbike set us back just 2.5 USD.

Heading back along Le Thai To, we stopped to admire some of the newly revamped Vespas for sale on the side of the road. The salesroom was unassuming, but that is always the way here.




Quite keen on the orange and cream dream vespa....




But I'm being greedy...one vespa is enough.

Sergeant Garcia

Last night was a typically untypical Saigon night.

Following a loose lead about a French (?) band playing in a theatre opposite the US consulate, the crew and I headed into town to check it out.

We could hear bad Vietnamese karaoke coming from the downstairs theatre, and were prepared to be disappointed. However upstairs, past the foyer with the B Boys breaking it, and the B girls working it, Sergeant Garcia rocked their groovy salsamuffin styles for an hour and a half. We were up and out of our seats in the first minutes, cramming up to the front of the theatre to get down with this funky Afro-Caribbean band. They had four vocalists, a percussionist and a swarthy DJ. They were from Cuba, France, and Spain (?). The female vocalist knew how to shake it. And the rest of the band had a pretty mean ska-improv dance routine worked out....

We were singing along all night, although I don't know what language we were singing (does anybody know what "Que palique" means?) We were salsaiing on each others toes. They were definitely politically motivated, with frequent references to revolution in South America, and ending war. The gig finishedt with a ridiculous conga line that snaked around the theatre. The after party was, of course, at Casa Latina and we drunk lime spiked Coronas until they ran out of cold ones.

The coolest thing about last night was that it was really unexpected. You never really feel like you have full information about anything here in Saigon. You just take your chances on whatever you can, and because you are starved for western/international culture you appreciate it even more.

Bangladesh and Honduras

Front page of today's Vietnam News boasts that Bangladesh and Honduras will be receiving assistance from Vietnam. Apparently Vietnam will be teaching Bangladesh how to reduce poverty. Let's hope the great Bangladesh leader Khaleda Zia doesn't drive by my neighborhood. The corrugated iron shacks on the banks of the black sewerage filled stinky Saigon River are full of water from the rainy season and my neighbours are sleeping IN IT.
Meanwhile, the mighty leaders of Honduras have decided to support Vietnam's bid to enter the WTO. Honduras? Yes, that will definitely swing the vote.

Vietnam strenthens diplomatic ties with......

Friends and I have often joked at the front page articles of the Vietnam News, Vietnamese only English daily newspaper. Nearly every single day, Vietnam establishes, re-establishes, strenthens, develops or initiates political, economic, social, or cultural ties with some of the most corrupt, obscure, poor and unknown countries on the planet.

One day, Anthony and I were playing a game to guess which country would make the cover of the next day's newspapers. I made a wild stab in the dark and said "Vietnam strengthens ties with Burkina Faso".......
within 12 hours, the headline appeared on the front page of the newspaper. How is Burkina Faso going to help Vietnam?? How, for that matter is Vietnam going to help Burkina Faso??

So, I've decided to keep a tally starting from today of all the countries that are mentioned as politically aligned to Vietnam as reported in the Vietnam News. Starting today.

May 19: President calls for closer economic ties with Belarus

Yoga teacher training

I have finally sent off my applications to do my yoga teacher training. I have applied to do it with Yoga Arts and also with Ateeka.

My heart tells me that Ateeka's teachings will be more suited to me. Ateeka teaches gentle vinyasa style yoga which really opens you up on many different levels. She teaches around the world, but is based between Hawaii and Taiwan. She has an amazing practice CD out called Divine Yoga Flow. (It is only $9.99 on Itunes) It is an amazing practice. It sounds deceptively simple and slow until you start the vinyasa on the mat.

I have wanted to deepen my yoga practice by doing an intensive course for many years now. I'm particularly interested in studying anatomy, pranayama and meditation. I have no immediate intention to teach others, just teach myself. Maybe, in time, I will be able to share it.

I know several people who have completed the Yoga Arts training, but the timing is not quite right for me. I would have to study in Singapore, and I don't want to waste thousands of dollars eating and sleeping in a hyper-urban overpriced Asian city for a month. Ateeka teaches at two locations in Bali, oceanside in Candidasa, and in the highlands on Ubud. Much more my style.

I'm really nervous about being accepted on the course....and of my ability to do this. Waiting, waiting, waiting.........breathe in, breathe out.....

Vietnamese sunsets

This is my final night on at Ong Lang beach, Phu Quoc Island. The sky looked like Orangina, and tasted sweeter than a Vietnamese condensed milk coffee

Smell-o-blog technology required

I wish I had a smell-o-blog to share the pungent aroma of fish sauce wafting from ceramic jars in Phu Quoc with you, gentle readers. It would be enough to make the majority of you log off . I myself have come to love it. "I'm turning Vietnamse, I think I'm turning Vietnamese, I really think so...."

Lau Hai San

The most delicious hot pot ( or Lau) as it is called in Vietnam is to be had at the Mango Bay Eco-Resort, Phu Quoc Island. Slightly spicy, sugar cane sweetened seafood deliciousness simmering in a cheap aluminium pot heated over coals. The digestor is responsible for dropping the nuggets of fresh sea food into the concoction and kneeling on the chair to fish it out in between swigs of beer. And of course, this is done in a beachfront setting with the best sun sets in all of Vietnam.
Mango Bay itself is a beautiful place to stay, with a range of simple bungalows and more substantial rammed earth buildings to choose from. Prices start from around $20USD a night. Relax in hammocks, doze in comfy beachside arm chairs, stroll through the pepper plantation, swim in the tepid (and questionably clean) sea.
Don't pass up the opportunity to gorge yourself on fresh succulent mangos for breakfast. Also well worth a mention is the fresh pepper grown on the property - definitely worth taking home.

ANZAC DAY

Only today, when I tried to explain to my class of 4th Grade Korean Kids what ANZAC day was, did I realise that my understanding of it was patchy to say the least.
I always went to the dawn services at Browns Bay or sometimes at the cenotaph at the museum when I was a kid. My Mum always told me that it was important to remember all the people who fought in the war. But, as I have got older my association with it has wavered. For example, I forgot to go to the Saigon dawn sarade this morning, even though I recieved a reminder email from the NZ embassy here in Vietnam (and promise of a free breakfast..)
I found a really good website that has lots of good links about ANZAC day and what it means. I urge all kiwis to have a look through it and polish up on your ANZAC day knowledge. It's helps to define us as a nation, and be greatful for our recent peace.

Mui Ne

Minh and I recently spent the weekend up at Mui Ne. Here we are at one of our favorite spots, the Mui Ne sand dunes - overlooking the lotus lake, a perfect spot for some mid morning yoga, and meditation

The Fall of Saigon

This is a summary of a post I wrote for Russell Brown on his Hard News blog. He is one of New Zealand's wittiest and most brilliant news commentators as far as I'm concerned. He has been showing a lot of interest lately in all of us Kiwis who live overseas. This was my response to him about the general situation here in Ho Chi Minh city and why I love it (most of the time..)

Ho Chi Minh City is a fascinating place to live, especially as we are now about ten days away from celebrating the 30th anniversary of what is known as the ‘Fall of Saigon’.

I wasn’t here 30 years ago to witness the two PAVN army tanks crashing through the gates of the Presidential Palace but there are plenty of fascinating and frightening eyewitness reports of it available. The irrepressible John Pilger wrote a fantastic account of what he saw in the days leading up to the ‘liberation’.

I believe that today the Saigonese have many reasons to celebrate. Saigon is a city which is healing well and the scars are barely visible. They have successfully fought off the Chinese, the French and the Americans in over a thousand years of war. Now, in a time of peace and prosperity they are racing to catch up with the rest of their Asia-Pacific neighbors. These days, people are more concerned about whether to buy a Samsung or a Nokia. The Vespas and Lambrettas which were darting through shrapnel in the 1960’s are now re-painted and re-chromed and wait in lines outside fashionable cafes while their proud owners sip cappuccinos. Those who families fled during the war are coming back and resettling. The Government covets their investments and educational skills. The Overseas Vietnamese are smart enough to identify a booming economy. Nearly all of my friends here are overseas born Vietnamese, and all are doing very well in a variety of businesses from cafes and yoga studios to banking and hi-tech software companies.

For the most part, I love living in Vietnam. There are challenges associated with living in amongst all the mess, but that gives it part of its charm. It’s certainly more dynamic than the suburbs of Glenfield, and more original than the hyper-marts in Albany where I grew up. Where else do fresh coconuts get delivered to your door by a cheerful fingerless coconut lady? Where else do you unwind with weekly massages in a French day spa for under $10? Where else can you afford tennis lessons (with a ball boy, coach, and court fees) for $5? Fresh, delicious beef noodle soup keeps me alive for under a dollar. The sun shines every day. When it rains, it pours…. with spectacular mid afternoon thunder and lightening storms thrown in for free. I have palm trees in my garden and friendly geckos on my walls. I lie in hammocks late into the night inhaling the heady perfume of jasmine. We have an annual NZ food and wine festivals to keep the cravings away, and for the rest of the year I can easily buy Anchor butter and Vegemite.

It is hard to see any outward signs of ‘communism’ to a long term foreign residents such as myself. Sure, the bureaucracy is insane, there is no freedom of press, and you certainly can’t protest. But generally, the people are smiling. There is a lot we can learn from the way that they put the past behind them. Especially when it seems that so many nations in Asia are unable to bury grudges and get on with building a harmonious future.

Nicky

Penis Envy

Today in English, Grade Four concentrated today on the importance of putting space in between their words in handwriting.

Hopefully this will rectify the

'mypenisissmall'

to

'my pen is small'

Konglish translated

Aaaaah. Konglish translated.

This Friday, during my English class in period 3, the students will be exercising their democratic right to vote by having a class election. The president will be welcomed in with a celebration and a parade (and some hoorays).

And, just in, the latest model sentence from top student.

"My penis small".

Isn't ten years old too young to be thinking about this sort of thing?

Erection in the classroom

I work in a classroom with a Korean man. He doesn't speak much english. The english he does speak is sometimes undecipherable. He usually doesn't say much. I sit at the back. He sits at the front. We smile over our computers and do complex sign language over the raucous of our 4th grade students (usually rioting). I think he smokes out the classroom window when I take my kids out for sport.

Polite chat so far this year hasn't extended very far beyond the length of my eyelashes, and a general survey of the hairiness of my arms. We also politely chatted about laser surgery for removing sunspots which I am desperately in need of (apparently).
" Miss Nicky, eyelashes, long, cute!"
" Miss Nicky, arms, hairy!"
" Miss Nicky, skin brown, no good"
I'm used to this sort of thing. I read around it and through it, and generally don't take anything too personally. But some things, really stump me.

This afternoon he informed me that on Friday morning while I had my period, he would have an erection in the class and the children would say hooray.

Any ideas on this one?

Canada

I was in Canada for February. It was a bit of a scouting mission to see if i could settle there in the future with my Canadian boyfriend. It is my last year in Vietnam, and we are considering all opations for the future (including bean farming in Peru). Canadians speak as highly as Canada as Kiwis do of New Zealand. It must have something to do with the big aggressive neighbours nearby, who steal our actors and pop singers and call them Americans or Australians.

Anyway, here are my best and worst of the 3 Canadian cities I visited (keep in mind I only had 3 weeks....

Toronto: Big Americanised city. Andy Poolhall was cosy and played good tunes. Number of people seen puffing a doobie in the snow in daylight: 2. The new H and M is great if you support slave labour. Your national ballet is something to be proud of, especially Canadaian choreography. Some good indoor plants.
Ottawa: Skating on the Rideau Canal was a good chance to be shamed by three year olds.
ripping on skates. Nice beavertails. Best dal in the world eaten at 'Wild Oats' in the Glebe. Winterlude was fun, but sliding down ice slides designed for children is not a good way to make friends with their parents. Suite 54 - aka Sweet Dirty Whore - need I say more. Eideolweiss "mountain" (hill) is ideal for teaching loved ones how to snowboard. Meditheo was a nice venue for a Valentines Dinner. But it was outshone by the sheer dreaminess of a hushed walk in fresh snow around parliament. Stoney Creek Walkway would be a great place to look for beavers in Summer. But, not too much action in February. But did see 3 Beaver Dams (oooh! piles of sticks). Museum of Civilisation had some fascinating exhibits about first nation people which I really enjoyed.
Montreal: Monday Afternoon is not the best time to go and see a strip show. The buffet at Supersex was average and the fries were cold. Mt Tremblant was fantastic, the snow was like goose down. Poutine: Who thought chips, gravy and cheese curds could taste that good? (just close your eyes when you eat them. Best burgers for small people definitely to be had at Pa Ta Ti Pa Ta Ta. The renovated train station at St Jovite did divine pizza and was good for all fans of the film 'The Station Master'. Does everyone walking in the snow have iPods, or are your earphones covered in a layer of ice? Fashionable people. But do they know that smoking is not fashionable anymore?
Canadians: Well, I'm in love with one. But besides the obvious bias, I like them. All shapes colors and sizes, speaking different languages and cooking with different spices. Have a fantastic ability to insulate their houses. Layer with style. Use too much fake tan in winter. Talk too much about Hockey (Come on! All you players are on strike!!) Over commercialise their natural wonders (Niagra Falls). Build good straight highways (except in Qebec). Laugh at themselves. Stop strangers in the street to return dropped mittens. Kind and Kool.

Shopping Montreal Style

As promised, a picture from Canada. Here I am strolling the streets of Montreal, doing a bit of shopping in the snow. Shopping for clothes in this weather is a total mission. Taking off 20 layers and huge fur lined knee boots, just to try on a t shirt proved itself to not be a fun way to spend an afternoon, so we amused ourselves by making mid city snow angels instead.

Back Again

It's been a while. I'm newly inspired.
Took two months off Vietnam. And two month off school.
Went to Thailand for two weeks to join Rolf back at the Ashtanga Retreat. Came home refreshed, clear, toned, tanned and more flexible in body and mind.
Went to Dalat for a couple of weeks with Minh. Spent the time climbing, biking, hiking, horse riding, canyoning and frolicking in Vietnam's mega tacky bit romantic honeymoon capital.
Went to Canada for a month. Froze my ass off. Went boarding. Met Minh's mates. Fell in love even more.
Now I'm back at school, with a new computer (that appears to be more even tempered than the last one) and I promise to blog with more regularity.
Starting with the last few months off travel adventures and pics.

Abseiling waterfalls

Located in the central highlands of Vietnam, Dalat proved to be quite the adventure tourism capital of this crazy and fearless communist nation. Where else would you abseil down a waterfall with a free fall into the lake below wearing two dollar vietnamese shoes, cotton knee pads, no helmet, and a safety rope wrapped around a rotten tree at the top of the bank?

Phu Quoc

Deep in pirate territory, in a hotly contested piece of the South China Sea, between Cambodia and Vietnam lies Phu Quoc island. Real travellers would take the ferry from Rach Gia. The extreme hardcore would build a raft, or hitch on a Khmer fishing boat.

I had a little over 48 hours so I took the plane. It wheezed as we took off from Saigon at 6.30 am, and almost had an asthma attack as we landed. $USD 70 RETURN it said on my ticket, and I hoped so. Our charming air hostess looked like she had shat herself, as we bounced all over the tarmac and grinded to a sudden halt not too far from the bank of red clay, that signalled the end of the runway.

Phu Quoc is the largest island in Vietnam, with a population of 75,000. It is developing fast, and the new airport terminal, with paved runway, looks like it is an attempt at Koh Samui-ing the island, although they have decades to go (thankfully). And there are no posters for full moon parties - yet.

The beaches are spectacular. I spent the weekend floating on my back watching the clouds, but I believe the stuff underneath the water is beautiful as well. The sand is a great texture for sandcastles, and not too fine that it becomes uncomfortable in one's bikini.

We skipped the main beach and stayed at Mango Bay, a new 'ecoresort' run by a friendly English man and two Aussies. Beautiful, simple rooms, with exposed concrete and dark hardwood furniture. Ambient lamp lighting. Open air bathroom ( pretty good for midnight typhoon ablutions). Scrabble and Monopoly sets, and a mini library where only 10% of the books were in German. $22 for a stand alone bungalow was a bargain.

The food was up there with the best I've eaten in Vietnam over the last 3 years. The fruit shakes were made without sugar - unheard of in the south of Vietnam: "Would you like some strawberries in your sugar shake Madam?". Especially good was the Basa Fish Hot Pot. The fish sauce (one of the islands biggest exports) was tangy and pungent, and the color of a good malt vinegar. A brilliant souvenir for your vegetarian friends back home. Unfortunately, Vietnam Airlines regulations has forbidden fish sauce in hand luggage on the planes.
One too many startled foreigners have cried "Gas Leak, I can smell a gas leak" grounding the planes while engineers hunt the overhead lockers for the offending bottle of fish sauce with a shoddy screw cap.

Also famous on the island are the pearls, which are great for a Christmas present for Nana in smashing lilac or subtle blues. The dogs are beautiful too, and would be a great Christmas present for someone back home. But I spoke to the dogs, and unlike a lot of Vietnamese, they are keen on staying.

The locals are laid back and friendly. Typical island style. The mosquitos are particularly personable, and certainly know how to leave a lasting impression.

Don't forget to pack your asthma inhaler, (there's a lot of seasonal tree dust), your mask and snorkel, and insect repellant.

Photos soon!

Javari Noah Vian

Welcome to the world Javari Noah Vian.

You were fashionably late. We danced around the garden in the rain when we knew you had made it.

With a yoga teacher for a mother and a magician for a father, you are going to be one flexible impossible kid.

Moat

Looking for a house in Saigon is not easy. First of all, Real Estate agents range from real estate agents to French speaking war veterans who sell coconuts out of a bicycle basket every morning and know someone who knows someone who knows someone. Asking to look at a house with two bedrooms will mean you are shown a windowless shanty with leaky ceilings and no discernable bedroom, to a 7 room French villa. To see houses with a price range $300-400, you will be offered a rug on the floor of the agent's sisters old high school teacher's cleaner's house for $50 a month, and will be shown a penthouse suite in the tallest skyscraper in downtown Saigon for a couple of G's.

Anyway, Minh and I gave up on relying on others early on and got proactive. The local newspaper uncovered some gems, but we didnt want to live next to a chicken abbatoir or a Communist party propoganda loudspeaker. After weeks, we found an unbelievable villa with a huge terracotta tiled yard, a lush tropical garden with coconut palms and jasmine trees and bamboo. We took it. Our castle has a spectacular of the Saigon river and shipping lane from the bourganvillia wrapped balcony off our master bedroom.

And our castle has a moat.

Two weeks after we moved in we came home on vespa to find our neighbourhood flooded to over our knees. Skanky dark grey sludgy pooh river water was bubbling up through the drains. Thinking it to be a freak occurence heralding the end of the monsoon season, and a grand welcome to the dry winter, we were not overly concerned.

But the next day, Pooh River was back. One hour later. And the next day, one hour later again.

So, now we plot our toings and froings with the tide. We have a tide chart in the kitchen, and we schedule dinners, parties, and badminton around the tide. It's hard to complain when we see that Pooh River actually enters all our neighbours houses, and they sit high up on chairs and boxes every day as the most rancid, disease infested, putrid and repulsive water I have ever seen serenely washes all over their floors.

They take it in their stride. And, so now do we. And Vespa has proven to be very capable of transforming herself from a 1969 British Racing Green Classic Bike to a jetski in a matter of seconds.

Pointy Shoes

Minh's Quebecan sister, Quyen, and her boyfriend Richard are staying with us at the moment while they holiday in Vietnam. They are adjusting to life in one of the most unstyley cities in the world after a couple of weeks of living fashionably in Tokyo and Kyoto.

Quyen is off to Fashion.Design.School next year. She has, style. Richard, is a perfect match for her. He lusts over fabric, and scrutinises lining, examines hemlines and discusses the future placement of darts. He critiques earrings like a Vogue editor and notices the perfect clash of citrus zips on pastel bags.

En route to dinner on Saturday night, we got talking about style:
"Oh my god, the Japanese girls are sooo stylish" ooozed Quyen
"Yes, I felt like a real slob" noted Richard
"It's all about the shoes"
"Yes, definitely, the shoes"
"The shoes?" I asked looking at my old brown converse hightops worn with pastel summer frock
Yes the shoes! They exclaim in perfect union
"They can be wearing a skanky dirty singlet and old shitty jeans and they just wear like these amazing pumps, you know pointy toes, incredible colours, 4 inch heels, their asses wiggle as they walk, it affects your posture so much. Actually, they don't walk, they strut"
Mmmm, they strut" Richard whispered longingly
I sat up straight in the car, and looked down at my shoes. There was a plastic bag stuck to the sole.
"We'll got and get you some pointy shoes tomorow" Quyen sympathised
"OK" I mumbled.

My feet don't fit well into pointy shoes. And I'm not about to squeeze them in, because I've done the research

Pointy shoes that cramp the toes produce some not-so-pretty results like
hammertoe, in which the toe contracts into a claw-like position, or neuromas,
where clusters of nerves grow between the toes causing pain, burning and
numbness.Treatment for these conditions include orthotic devices, steroid
injections or surgery.

Recently, friends of mine witnessed a great friday-night-fight. In a bar, two screaming Vietnamese women started attacking each other with their 4 inch pointy stilleto heels, whilst pulling each others hair and writhing across the bar like distressed Medusas. Management, alarmed by the uninhibited exposure of bunions, ingrown toenails and fungal infections, and for the safety of other patrons, escorted them from the premises: a pair of barefoot Cinderellas.

Rain

The classroom darkens as the clouds roll over the rooftops of the school. The rain will come in 20 minutes. Every Friday it rains on me as I farewell my kids from school. It's not like rain in New Zealand. That's drizzle. Or spit. Or a brief shower. But Vietnam knows how to rain.

Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me..

In class we have been testing the acidity of household liquids. The rain measured a healthy 5.0 on our recently calibrated pH meter. Frightening. That is only mildly better than the clouds expelling gastrointestinal acid all over us. The kids started screaming as they pulled out their hair in their hands and started to do the acid melt wobble all over the carpark. The litmus paper dropped from my pocket and landed in a puddly beside the door of the bus. Bright red in seconds. The kids jumped on the bus and traced the drops sliding down the window from a safe distance. As they pulled out of school, they melted in the back seat like asprin. Laughing, hysterically, they and I went our seperate ways for the weekend.

Monday I'm wearing sensible teacher high top converse and not poncy open sandals. I've noticed that the puddles are eating the polish off my toenails.

The Water Garden - Candidasa, Bali

Minh and I spent an amazing two nights at the Water Garden hotel in Candidasa, Bali. This boutique lodging was so beautiful I simply have to recommend it here in my blog.... Each room was completely surrounded by a water garden reminiscent of something Monet would have painted. Bouyant lily pads, overhanging frangipani, elegant and flexible bamboo......the fish would come and eat right out of your hands. The fish eat right out of your hand. They organise a sumptuous private candle lit dinner on your private balcony with extremely discreet, and professional service. For $65 a night, it represents fantastic value considering the private and intimate feeling that the garden offers you. It was the best money we spent during our whole time in Bali....

Frangipani

Frangipani...a cliched symbol of Bali (it's made it onto the cover of the latest Lonely Planet). Once you see them floating outside your bungalow, bathed in fresh dew, it isn't hard to see why the Balinese are proud to have this delicate symbol represent their island. Thse were photographed at the exquisite Water Garden Hotel in Candidasa, mentioned in yesterdays post.