A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
PART 3: Could I Get Some Pain Medication Over Here?

As I entered the hospital I realized for the first time that I had had an escort during my drive. Amazingly, The Armwrecker had followed my cab to the hospital, with his girlfriend sitting behind him clutching whatever mangled motorbike parts had fallen off during the accident. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth -- his presence was a serious godsend. Nobody in that hospital spoke English.

The setup in this emergency room is clearly designed for large numbers of casualties. As you walk in from outside there is a medium sized waiting room with plastic chairs around the perimeter half full of the usual ER Saturday evening casualties. I ignored this room, as I was not in the mood to wait, given that I had blood dripping through my gauze at this point. Also, it's terrible to say, but I knew I could get away with it -- in situations like this, being a bloody pale-faced foreign accident victim really does shoot you to the front of the line.

The next room was where all the action was. It was big and bright, with high ceilings and cement floors, clean but run-down. Along one wall there were a series of desks manned by nurses or attendants, and the room featured several rows of narrow white-sheeted beds. No blankets -- Saigon is still hotter than hell. It was apparently a slow evening -- only about a quarter of the beds were occupied. Around the outside of the room were doors leading to mysterious rooms and offices. One of these rooms featured periodic moans and screams -- I hoped that wasn't my next stop, but since all the door labels were in Vietnamese, I had no idea.

The Armwrecker, his girlfriend, a nurse and a doctor (see what good service surprise foreigners get in Vietnamese hospitals?) swiftly guided me to a bed in the dead center of the huge room. Though they may not have intended it, this made it possible for everyone in the room to clearly watch my progress with fascinated curiousity while they weren't bemoaning their own wounds or those of their loved ones. Personally I didn't care where they put me. I was just glad that the sheets looked clean and was ready to begin my ongoing and lengthy campaign to get pain medication.

This is how my initial conversation with The Armwrecker went, as he attempted to fill out the hospital registration forms for me:

The Armwrecker: What is your name?
Me: Kathlyn Warren. Could I get some pain medication?
The Armwrecker: Address?
Me: 15B/27 Le Thanh Ton. Does the doctor have any pills I can take, do you think?
The Armwrecker: Telephone?
Me: Here's my card. Have you asked about the pain pills yet?

And so on.

After a cursory clean-up of my chin wound (though I was still absolutely covered with blood -- fortunately I was wearing a deep red shirt that night) and a few more direct attempts with the doctor and nurse to get some pain medication, I was wheeled off to the x-ray department.

Well, I was going to finish this today, but it's too long and it's too nice a day. Tune in tomorrow for PART 4: Your Mother Was Right -- Always Wear Clean Underwear.

© 2003 Katy Warren



posted by Katy at 7:43 PM

 
PART 2: What Vietnamese Drivers Really Keep in That Compartment Under the Motorbike Seat

When we left off, I had just been thrown ass-over-teakettle style onto the median strip of Dien Bien Phu Street. I did not lie there looking at the sky for long, however, because within seconds I was surrounded by concerned motorists. This is, apparently, a bit of an anomaly in Vietnam. Most of the expats I told about the accident were truly amazed that people actually stopped to help me at all, and all found it very hard to believe that The Armwrecker stayed with me rather than zipping away as fast as his mangled motorbike could take him.

In any event, I was surrounded by hovering concerned Vietnamese faces, and as I had apparently led with the chin on my way to the pavement, I was bleeding rather profusely all over myself. This is when I found out what they keep in that compartment under the motorbike seat. As I looked around, at least three people were rooting around in their respective vehicles pulling out gauze and tape. It's reassuring, yet disturbing, to know they so prepared for disaster at all times. Two people worked together -- one held a huge pad of gauze on my chin while the other wrapped a loooong strip of gauze around and around my head.

Meanwhile, I was awakening from my daze, fully aware that my arm was broken and that a hospital visit was in order. Clearly things weren't going to improve on that median strip. So I began to moan "taaxxii" over and over to the closest hoverers until the light dawned and they flagged me down a taxi. At this point I began to moan "Columbia Asia, Columbia Asia" in an attempt to preclude any attempt to take me to a standard Vietnamese hospital. And it appeared to work -- we all were in agreement that we were going to Columbia Asia, the place I had checked out several weeks earlier which looked like a clean, western medical clinic open 24/7 for emergencies.

Once I got on the cab, however, things began to go a bit awry. The cab driver turned the wrong way, at least as far as I was concerned. The Columbia Asia I was familiar with was in the center of town in a lovely new building. We were heading out further into the suburbs, quite the opposite direction from my house and my desired medical destination. Until this point I had been fairly calm, as is usual for me in such emergencies. But as we headed out of town I started getting frantic. I was still steadily bleeding in the back seat and was holding up my broken right arm with my left, but at this point I began wildly gesturing and fruitlesslly attempting whatever Vietnamese I had learned in the previous three weeks. Sadly, we had spent most of those three weeks on pronunciation, so my vocabulary was rather distressingly limited. For example, I knew how to say "right" but not "left", "here" but not "there", etc. So mostly our "conversation" consisted of me gesturing wildly to the left and wailing "Columbia Asia, Columbia Asia" while he gestured to the right (with increasing annoyance) calmly saying "Columbia Asia, Columbia Asia". Imagine my surprise when we pulled into the emergency room entrance of an actual Columbia Asia hospital. Hmmm, guess he was right after all, though this certainly wasn't the Columbia Asia with all the fancy new equipment like I was expecting.

So after a brief argument about the fare, I stepped over the large pool of blood in the driveway and walked into the hospital.

Tomorrow, Part 3: Could I Get Some Pain Medication Over Here?.

© 2003 Katy Warren



posted by Katy at 7:06 PM

 
Accidents Will Happen, or
Up Close and Personal with the Vietnamese Medical System

PART 1: Always Go With Your First Instinct


Now that I've put sufficient distance between me and the Terrifying Traffic Accident at Christmastime, I have recovered my sense of humor about it and am ready to fill you all in on the details.

So here's how the whole episode played out. I had been invited to a Christmas party, given by several Vietnamese teachers at my university for all the foreign students taking Vietnamese classes. It was to be held at a Thai restaurant up in the Binh Thanh district, an area I had not visited before. Because I am an idiot and a glutton for punishment, I decided to walk there. It didn't seem like it would be that difficult to find, though ominously, for those who are up on their Vietnamese history, the restaurant was located on Dien Bien Phu Street.

Now, though I have crossed DBP street many times in other districts without major incident, once the street gets to Binh Thanh district it becomes more of a superhighway by Vietnamese road standards. It was wide enough for 8 lanes of cars and two median strips for pedestrians to rest up and regain their courage for the next step. In Saigon, Land of Motorbikes, this means that there were effectively 30 lanes of traffic to cross with two sanity-restoring breaks. Naturally, there were no easy places to cross, and I was on the wrong side of the street.

It was at this point that I made my most critical and painful error. This street looked really threatening, and it was getting dark. I should really just hire a motorbike driver to take me the rest of the way, I thought. Then I wouldn't have to cross this awful deathtrap. But I was early (family failing), and had a half hour to kill (ok, poor choice of words) so I decided to walk it. I mean, by then I had gotten pretty damn good at crossing the street without incident. So I set out across the street at a moment I judged to be the safest, motorbikes whizzing past me as usual.

Let me just say at this point that I was actually crossing in a crosswalk. It wasn't at a corner, but it was a place specifically designated for pedestrians. Of course, that doesn't mean it was much less dangerous than any other part of the street, but at least I can honestly feel I was not at fault.

So anyway, I was thisclose to reaching the first median strip, when a driver who was clearly not following the unwritten laws of Vietnamese traffic speedily careened around a motorcycle who had slowed for me and slammed right into my, ahem, left hindquarter, flipping me rather precipitously onto the median. This driver, whose actual name is a series of unpronounceable one-syllable words, will henceforth be known as The Armwrecker.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2: What Vietnamese Drivers Really Keep in That Compartment Under the Motorbike Seat.


© 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 1:40 AM

 
Since I've been here almost five months, I've developed a rather dull routine, and these days I seldom venture far from my familiar haunts. But in the last couple of weeks I've ended up in several places where I'd swear I was one of the first foreigners in the neighborhood. I know what it is to be a zoo animal.

Last Monday I went to celebrate a friend's birthday in a neighborhood not far from the main downtown market here in Saigon. The "restaurant" at which we were celebrating (really more of a draft beer cafe that served food on the side) was on a virtually deserted street, something I didn't think was possible here. When I left the other revelers at around midnight and walked out front to find a cab or motorbike driver to take me home, it was only to discover that there were absolutely no moving vehicles to be seen. In Saigon! Imagine that! The street was quite residential, and after a very confusing conversation in Vietnamese with a couple of drunk guys out front, I set off walking in an attempt to find a busier intersection.

OK, right now I know my mother is shuddering at this whole story. I mean, what kind of idiot starts walking down a dark deserted street in a foreign country at midnight? A slightly drunk one, that's who. Clearly my judgment was somewhat impaired from the "bia hoi" (draft or "fresh" beer) we were consuming by the two liter plastic bottle. That stuff is strong, and I fully believe it is laced with some kind of amphetamine, considering how perky it makes me.

In any event, I jauntily pranced down the deserted street until I came to an absolute beehive of activity, but certainly not the kind I expected. All of a sudden there were lights everywhere, makeshift coffee shops set up, and hundreds of people hauling baskets around and supervising and sorting piles of vegetables and fruits in the middle of a wide street. Since I don't believe this street actually has a market during the day, I had obviously managed to happen upon a market clearinghouse, where large trucks from the countryside drop off their goods which are sorted and shuttled to local markets.

You can imagine the looks I was getting there. I mean, it can't be too often that they get a foreign woman picking her way through their huge piles of veggies, dodging hand carts and motorbikes in an attempt to find a street with a taxicab. I managed to make it through with many friendly "hello"s coming my way, and found a motorbike guy to take me home just a couple blocks later.

© 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 3:24 AM

 
And for those of you who have suggested I am cheap for repairing my beloved camera with electrical tape, I will have you know that I purchased a new one yesterday through the Magic of The Internet, which will be hand-delivered by my friend Heike whom I will meet in Cambodia in just a few weeks. Fortunately Heike is the camera expert I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, so she will be able to explain how to work it even if it arrives without instructions, which I rather fear given the price I paid for this camera. But I'm not cheap!


posted by Katy at 5:01 AM

 
While I'd like to say that I haven't posted all week because I've just been too busy preparing for my upcoming trip, the truth is I'm just lazy. I've had several ideas for things I could share with you all, but I haven't gotten around to the actual writing bit yet, so you'll just have to look forward to them. Meanwhile, while I should have been busy preparing (visas to Cambodia, China, Laos, Vietnam, figuring out income tax requirements, finding a replacement teacher for my kindergarten job, repairing my clothing and bags, getting Malaria pills, exchanging money, etc, etc, etc) I've really only been drinking a lot of coffee, reading my precious store of books far too quickly, and doing a lot of socializing. However, now that I'm down to one book (Band of Brothers -- and I'm really not that interested in WWII) I'll no doubt be doing more writing to pass the time.


posted by Katy at 4:50 AM

 
When I purchased my camera before my trip to Turkey in 2000, I specified only one major requirement to the salesclerk: it had to be really sturdy. This is actually a requirement for all the electronic and mechanical equipment I purchase, from radios to telephones to calculators, because the sad fact is that I am an incredible klutz. There are times when I don't even get a new purchase home to my apartment before dropping it on the street, and I go through enough phones and walkmans to keep those industries solvent during an extended economic downturn. I suspect the Radio Shack in downtown Seattle has been wondering where I've been for the last six months.

So back to the camera. I have loved this camera like no other. It takes great pictures, isn't very heavy, and fits perfectly into my hand. Consequently, I really haven't mishandled it as much as might be expected considering my history. Unfortunately, I discovered during my trip up north last week that I may have dropped it once too often -- there are small pieces missing from the plastic back of the camera. This appears to be a rather critical problem, as it looks like there might be light getting inside where the film sits there exposed until you're finished with the roll.

I first feared that all the pictures from the last two rolls were wiped out, so I had one developed up in Nha Trang. There's definitely light getting in there, as some of the photos have a weird reddish thing going across them in various ways, but it's not nearly as bad as I expected. Regardless, I decided I needed a new camera.

So today I went out camera shopping, and those things are damned expensive! Even though everything else is cheaper in Vietnam, cameras are no bargain. In fact, the prices seemed considerably higher than I paid in Seattle for a 35 mm camera with the same features. Highway robbery, it is. Probably half those cameras are stolen off tourists anyway.

Since there's no way I'm paying $200 for a camera here, I have moved to Plan B. I have purchased a 20 cent roll of black electrical tape, which I will daintily place over the aforementioned holes in my camera, and thereby postpone any major purchases until I get to a country where the prices are more reasonable.

© 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 4:05 AM

 
All is well with the world -- the ladies at my sidewalk noodle soup place returned from their Tet holiday yesterday. I am now writing with a warm chicken-noodley feeling in my stomach.

However, my week (apart from meeting the alarmingly intense Lebanese man who "really really likes" me) has been incredibly boring, so I'm going to share a story from the Lost Month of Lefthandedness.

This is another Mr. Lanh-related story -- for those who don't religiously read this website, Mr. Lanh is the HCMC Department of Education official who ropes me into various English-teaching related activities, usually for the low-income students taught at his evening schools.

During the first week of January, I got one of those cryptic calls from Mr. Lanh. As I may have expressed earlier, all of his calls are basically cryptic due to the combination of his appalling accent and the vagaries of the mobile phone system here. Plus he inevitably calls when I'm walking down a busy street or in a crowded restaurant. Come to think of it, there just aren't very many quiet places in Saigon, so maybe it's not his fault. Anyway, suffice it to say that all Mr. Lanh's calls require a dangerous mix of guesswork and blind agreement.

His request this time seemed simple -- he appeared to be asking me to go somewhere on January 9th. That much I got. What I didn't get, despite repeated inquiries, was where we were going and with whom. However, I decided that getting out of the city was its own reward, regardless of any pesky details that might crop up later.

Although by this time I shouldn't be surprised by any Mr. Lanh situation, I admit I was a bit taken aback when I was picked up at 6 a.m. by a full-sized bus loaded with Vietnamese women. And ours was actually one of three buses, carrying most of the English teachers in the Ho Chi Minh City school system.

The purported objective of this jaunt was a sort of environmental ed bonding experience for the English teacher corps to Can Gio, a mangrove forest/monkey refuge on the coast not far from Saigon. But after mere minutes on this bus I could say with no false modesty that I was clearly the featured attraction on this field trip. Can Gio was just an excuse for the organizing officials to hold the teachers and me captive for ten hours of English practice.

And it worked pretty well for the most part. Apart from feeling like an exotic zoo animal, I enjoyed talking to the teachers. At Can Gio I chatted casually with whoever was bold enough to approcah me, and at the beach lunch that followed I gave a 15 minute impromptu speech followed by 40 minutes of Q and A.

A couple of questions were a bit frightening. Giving them my advice on how to engage teenagers in learning English was laughable considering the problems I've had with those wretched 10-year-olds and the fact that I had only been a teacher for three measly months. But the question that truly struck fear in my heart was "Will you sing a song for us?" Yikes. Those who have heard me sing in the car are aware that I have the musical talent of a bowl of rice. My range is about one octave, and often I think I'm singing one note when actually another is emerging screechily from my throat. I wasn't in a position to refuse, however, so using a megaphone in front of 150 Vietnamese teachers and education department officials in beach chairs, I sang "Sing ... sing a song...sing out loud ... etc". It's very tough to find a song in my pea-sized range, but I managed to make it through without causing any permanent environmental damage on the area. Of course, the nappers of the group were pretty much screwed, but hey, they should have been listening to my fabulous speech!


© 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 7:13 PM

 
I'm back in Saigon, getting used to the traffic and moving back into my old house. This morning I discovered that a tragedy has occurred, however -- my favorite sidewalk noodle soup "restaurant" has disappeared! Gone! No sign of noodle soup anywhere! You folks might not thing this is such an awful thing, but these ladies made the best chicken Pho in a 10 block radius, and I had it for breakfast at least 4 days a week.

Clearly I don't have time to write on the internet today -- I must go investigate where they have gone so I can track them down tomorrow morning.


posted by Katy at 8:03 PM

 
Well, as expected, I didn't do much yesterday. I had three main goals:

1. Get a new notebook (my third one! You see how hard I am working for you people?)
2. Buy a hat (mine just isn't squashable enough for long term travel)
3. Sit on the beach for several hours drinking fresh fruit juices delivered to my cushioned deck chair (no elaboration necessary here).

Goal #1 proved to be fairly easy, since at least half the stores are now open. I looked for two days in Hue with no joy -- who knew it would be such a challenge to find a simple notebook?

Goal #2 was a bit of a challenge. Like shopping for shoes, getting a hat was a bit demoralizing because everyone is tiny here so they have very little available for people of a normal size. I finally purchased one that purports to be from "Guess" company, but as it was $2 and I bought it in a market in Vietnam, I have my doubts as to the authenticity of the label. It's kind of a bad color for me, kind of mustard/khaki which is probably the last shade someone with my skin tone should wear. But it fits, has a sufficiently wide brim, and I was darned tired of using hand gestures to explain to each shoplady that I have a giant head.

Goal #3 was easily accomplished, and it was highly entertaining to watch the idiot German tourists attempt to kill themselves in the red-flagged surf. Between that and my boat trip today I'm developing a great tan, perfect for inciting envy in the teachers room when I get back to work on Monday.

© 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 3:28 AM

 
A Word to the Wise V:

If you wish to sleep during your night bus ride, do not take the bouncy seat right over the steaming hot engine in the way back between two strangely cuddly Vietnamese men.
posted by Katy at 3:19 AM

 
The rain wore me down and I didn't like Hue that well, so I headed south in the Nightmare Bus From Hell that you all may remember from last week, and am now in Nha Trang. Since this is a beach town and I don't expect to be doing anything for 3 days except drinking pineapple juice, snorkeling and watching the waves, you probably shouldn't be looking for too many web entries in the next couple days.
posted by Katy at 10:12 PM

 
It's been raining for two days.

You'd think I'd be OK with that, having seen my share of drizzle, sprinkling, showers, and rain while living in the Pacific Northwest, but there are crucial differences. First of all, Seattle has a lot more pavement, and an operating drainage system. Second, the main mode of transportation in Seattle is not motorbikes. Finally, in Seattle I am not walking down muddy clay roads to visit Nguyen royal tombs.

Yesterday's wet and ill-favored outing was to visit these tombs not far from Hue via river boat. I had optimistically slathered 45 sunblock on before leaving, but ultimately the caked dirt from walking through mud would have protected me anyway. Our first stop was Thien Mu, the lovely round tiered pagoda that is something of a symbol of Hue. Out back they have displayed the Austin Mini which carried the monk Thich Quang Duc to his famous government-protesting self-immolation in Saigon in 1963. The pagoda is a beautiful building, actually, and at this point it was only drizzling so I was still in a good mood.

At our second stop an amazing thing happened -- all twenty of us refused to get out of the boat to se Tu Duc's tomb. Not because it wasn't a nice tomb -- it actualy got a very nice write-up in the Lonely Planet. However there were a number of factors arguing against the visit: it was raining harder; it was a price-gouging six-kilometer motorbike ride to the tomb and admission was a whopping $4 in addition; and we were heading to two more tombs and were living in hope that the rain would stop. That hope was in vain, as it turns out. This mutiny seriously pissed off the boat girl, who presumably lost out on whatever kickbacks she would have gotten from the motorbike drivers, but it did create an unexpected atmosphere of camraderie among the passengers which made the fact that we were stuck inside a bit more palatable.

After another pagoda, which I did visit (nothing special) and another tomb, which I didn't (described by the guidebook as a gaudy concrete monstrosity that is "symptomatic of the decline of Vietnamese culture"), we got to Minh Mang's tomb, where it really started to pour. Despite the awful weather, the tomb, a series of buildings, courtyards and gardens designed by Minh Mang himself before his death in 1840 were absolutely gorgeous. Statues, elaborate landscaping (we're talking artificial lakes here), and Chinese-style buildings on a series of small hills blended perfectly into the environment. Too bad those Nguyen Kings were so abysmally bad at ruling Vietnam -- some, at least, had good taste.

2003 Katy Warren










posted by Katy at 9:14 PM

 
Hue has been a bit of a disappointment to me, I must admit. My original interest in Vietnam was spurred years ago by a book called Falling Off the Map, by Pico Iyer, in which the author wrote a section on maybe five or six places in the world that people don't really go. Hue was one of them, and his description of the city was poetic and lyrical. Now I suspect he was smoking something funny.

Hue is a very historic city in Vietnam, and served as its capital during the Nguyen Dynasty and the colonial period from 1803 to 1945. It lies on the banks of the Perfume River about halfway up the country, amid lush greenery and rolling hills. The highlight of the city is the Citadel, the walled and moated area of the city that used to house the kings and royal family members and hangers-on of the Nguyen dynasty, the final "ruling" family of Vietnam. The Citadel, built in 1804 with a 10 kilometer perimeter, included a smaller Imperial Enclosure where the family resided, and an even smaller Forbidden Purple City where many of the ornate ceremonial buildings and palaces were located. There are, in fact, lovely photos of the Citadel area and Imperial Enclosure from the early 20th century, that included buildings in the Chinese and French style and ornate gardens and lakes in which the denizens took their leisure.

Doesn't all that sound great? The problem is that Hue really took it in the shorts from both the French and Americans. In 1885 Emperor Ham Nghi objected to French activities in Tonkin and launched an attack. The French decided to set him straight on who was really in charge by encircling the city and mercilessly pounding it with artillery, followed by the looting of its treasures. Ham Nghi fled, and the French replace him with a more amenable Nguyen family member.

In 1968 the situation was far worse. VC troops walked into Hue while the Americans weren't paying attention and held the city for 25 days, punctuated by massive summary executions of local civilians and religious people supporting the South. The South Vietnamese army was unable to oust the occupying force, US troops laid seige to the city for weeks during the Tet Offensive. Sections of the city were leveled by VC and/or US bombs, and 10,000 were killed either by bombs or in house-to-house fighting. Most were civilians.

The upshot of this history is that most of the city was built in the 70's and 80's with limited funds, which I think we would all agree is not a good thing architecturally. Most of the old French-style buildings, particularly on the north shore, were razed to the ground. Over 90 percent of the area within the citadel was destroyed, including all but a handful of the royal palace buildings. Now most of the area is given over to weeds or small-scale agriculture, with ruined walls and arches littering the landscape in a very eerie way.

Despite the limited amount remaining, it was an interesting place, and I spent the rest of the day wandering around town to look at temples and pagodas, the other thing the city is famous for. I'm a bit dragonned out at this point (the Vietnamese really don't know the meaning of understatement), but I got lots of exercise and actually went four straight hours without seeing another tourist. The high point of my day was when I carried on an actual 10 minute (in fits and starts) conversation with a Vietnamese boy who decided to walk with me. Well actually, it was a combination of Vietnamese and French, but as I was inexplicably blocked on the French, I generally spoke Vietnamese and he spoke French when he had a particularly complex question. Quite a victory for me!

?2003 Katy Warren





posted by Katy at 1:38 AM

 
Well, I did see one interesting thing yesterday, in addition to the gorgeous mountainous drive up here. In honor of Tet they are having a bit of a carnival in the big park along the Perfume River. Only one ride, actually, one of those kiddy rides with hanging horses moving in an endless vomit-inducing circle. The remainder of the fair was classic carny games of chance, low budget Vietnamese style.

First of all, there were no useless stuffed animals or plastic toys being given away. Virtually all the prizes were food (cookies, crackers, candy) or cans of soda pop or beer. These lower-value games were mostly variations on familiar themes: throwing balls into bottomless bowls, tossing rings onto deceptively easy targets, fishing with dangling magnets on bamboo poles, and knocking over surprisingly heavy decorative cans with a pitifully light foam ball. Everyone seemed to be having a fabulous time.

The more difficult or chancy games rewarded winners with small household appliances, electric fans, and cooking pots. My favorite of these games was a roulette-style operation in which a large guinea pig was placed under a plastic colander or mesh wastebasket while a large tabletop wheel spun around him. After the wheel had gone around a few times and bets were placed, the colander was raised and the guinea pig was able to scamper into one of the 15 numbered wooden boxes affixed around the edge of the wheel. I saw a particularly good (or lucky) guesser win a rice cooker.

It's been interesting to see all the various ways they celebrate the new year here, but I'm really ready for this holiday to end. Carnivals are nice, but I want the shops and restaurants to be open again!

© 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 4:04 AM

 
I didn't do much yesterday, as I was on a bus for six hours going from Hoi An to Hue, so I've decided to give you all a little Vietnamese lesson in honor of Tet.

OK, here's our phrase:

Chuc Mung Nam Moi!

This means "Happy New Year", for the non-Vietnamese speakers out there. But you didn't think it would be that easy, did you? We have to pronounce those crazy words correctly, or we might be saying "Dead Fish Basket Toss" or something like that.

So repeat after me:

Chuc: This is pronouced "chooc", with a rising high tone. And be sure to swallow that final "c", because the Vietnamese really don't feel comfortable with final consonants on their words.

Mung: This "u" actually has a little apostrophe attached to it's top right corner, which makes it a different letter than the "u" in "Chuc". So try to say "mung" with your teeth clenched and smiling. Don't make your mouth into an "OOO" shape! That would be very wrong. And while you do that, remember to do it with a low falling tone.

Nam: This is the easiest word of the bunch. The "a" has a little v-shaped thing on top of it, but that just means it's a shorter vowel sound than the "a" without the v on top, like the one in "Viet Nam". So make this rhyme with Viet Nam, but a teensy bit shorter, and say it with a mid-range even tone.

Moi: OK, we have another apostrophe situation going on here with the "o". That means this "o" doesn't rhyme with any English language "o" sound, and there are tons of those. This one is more like a nasally "uh" but think of it as rhyming with "duh" in that long way that teenagers say it, because this is a longer vowel. If you don't give it enough emphasis, then it's like you're using the Vietnamese letter "a" with a hat on top, and that would be a totally different word. So altogether, it's like "m-uh-ee" with a rising high tone.

Now everybody all together now: Chuc Mung Nam Moi!

Wasn't that easy? Oh, and don't forget that "Tet" has a little hat over the "e", so it's pronounced "tate", with the final "t" kind of swallowed due the national fear of consonants.

© 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 3:29 AM

 
Yesterday was Tet, the Vietnamese lunar new year's day and the first day of the Year of the Goat.

Turns out that the goat is a bad animal and its year is considered unlucky by the Vietnamese and Chinese. Just ask the thousands of mothers-to-be that c-sectioned their impending children in order to ensure their Horse Year credentials. Do they think the moon isn't going to know they cheated?

And guess what? I am Year of the Goat! Yes, my parents cared so little for their child's ultimate prosperity, good health and happiness that they didn't even consult the lunar calendar for guidance. Wow, it's hard finding out after 35 years that one's parents entered that state so callously and without taking these critical planning steps. I'm going to have to go right into therapy when I get back to the states.

As you might have ascertained, the Vietnamese are very superstitious, and during Tet they let all their superstitious impulses run wild. For the whole lunar new year period, basically two weeks before and a week after Tet, dozens of tasks are done or avoided based less on religion than on what is perceived to be lucky or unlucky. Traditions are extremely strong, adn Vietnamese spend a fortune on decoration, gifts, food and travel.

Flower markets abound before Tet, as it is considered good luck to have an orange, kumquat, or flowering apricot tree in your house or store, and fresh flowers are mandatory as well. Vietnamese women clean everything in the house from top to bottom, and families start to arrive from all over the countries and the world. Thousands of "Viet Kieu", or overseas Vietnamese, flock into the country heaping hard-earned largess upon their families.

Many foods, including a strange mixture of fatty pork, bean paste and gelatinized rice packed into a square and wrapped in banana leaf (not too bad, actually), are required eating at Tet. For the three days immediately preceding the holiday families will make food offerrings to the gods, small portions of everything in little bowls placed on a makeshift altar with an accompanying ceremony and incense.

The day of Tet, February 1st this year, is extremely important in determining a family's fortunes for the following year. The first person to enter a house at the new year is the harbinger of good or bad luck for all its residents. Families beg their successful, married, good looking relatives with many children to make an early morning visit. The unemployed, ill, and unmarried women past their prime are encouraged to keep their distance. You can see how it would be problematic for me to have stayed in Saigon -- am I good luck because I'm a foreigner? Bad luck because I'm not married and broke my arm last year? Way to complicated for me to figure out, and I wouldn't want to ruin someone's whole year.

Tet is especially beloved by children, who face little of the work and anxiety and are given plenty of (mostly) unsolicited cash money.Li xi, or "lucky money", is passed out like candy in little red envelopes to all children in your family or with whom you have any sort of friendly or business relationship. The money must be unused, so there is quite a run on the banks around this time with thousands of people requesting crisp, new bills.

As for me, I spent Tet fairly quietly, hanging out and wandering around Hoi An with Tiffany, a Saigon friend and colleague who was takeing a sanity break from visiting her Vietnamese relatives in Danang for the week. So I got through Tet without having to figure out who I had to give li xi to -- quite a victory.

© 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 12:17 AM

 
A Personal Note to the German Tourist Wearing the Conical Native Hat:

Madam, please take off that hat. Hang it from the wall of your basement, give it to your children, use it as a breadbasket, whatever. Just don't wear it in this or any country. You look ridiculous.

© 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 1:48 AM