A tourist in your own town

I’ve been asked to expand on being a tourist vs. being a foreigner who lives in Vietnam. For starters, I do not consider myself a tourist in Saigon. I live in Saigon temporarily, ergo I am automatically not a tourist. I have activities, hobbies, local friends, co-workers and a routine that doesn’t come with being a tourist. When I take my weekend trips, only then will I admit to being a full-fledged tourist.

Tourists are scattered and don’t have to go to work the next morning. Tourists may not have local friends. Tourists may not know their way around the city. And so on. But some tourists might have a connection with a country; perhaps their family emigrated from there and they are just visiting relatives. Some tourists have international friends, or have been to the city numerous times.

I’m not afraid of being a tourist either. A “responsible” tourist. So maybe that makes me a “traveler” instead of a “tourist”? I try to be mindful of my actions and am willing to try new things. Sometimes tourists visit other countries only to hang out with their own kind. There is no communication with the local culture. No culture shock except “Oh, this tour guide has an accent” or “Oh, this road is not paved”. And so it goes.

I remember the first time I went to Cayo Coco. It was the biggest disappointment ever, and also the worst vacation ever despite it being a really sweet present from my boyfriend. While I was there I couldn’t help but think, “Wow, this is NOT Cuba”. It could have been anywhere in the world!!! It’s a large resort – homogenous, internationally owned, and let’s not forget the swimming pool (UGH). I’ve been to other resorts and had never felt so disconnected from a country in my life. But this is what a cheap budget vacation entails for a lot of people. This disconnected feeling. It’s easy to become a tourist oblivious to your surroundings. You’re just there for a vacation. It doesn’t matter what other people’s living conditions are, or does it?

Locals might look at me as a tourist, and others might see me as an “expat”. Maybe it depends on what I am wearing, or how I carry myself, or my confidence about navigating through District 1, my neighbourhood. It’s only 3 months that I am spending here; I might as well get used to it. Tourists don’t spend 3 months in a country; they might spend 3 days, or 3 weeks. I came here with a purpose, as I do with all of my independent travels.

Even when I talk to my roommates, it’s like they know that I am here temporarily, but would they outright call me a tourist or a traveler? Would they have a problem warming up to me because I am so short-term? My roommate Vy puts it well: “People come and go. You just get used to it”. They know I will go back “home” soon, but they are still awesome and amazing enough to count me in their lives for the time that I am here. It’s a little discouraging sometimes because Vietnam is known to have many short-term Western expats living within its borders. They work, maybe teach English, make friends, booze out, travel Southeast Asia, and then go back home. It sounds a little betraying, right? It’s almost like nobody is guaranteed to stay here unless they truly love it and can tolerate the madness of the city. So I guess it comes down to tolerance.

It’s really important to keep in touch with the friends you make. It makes things a little less painful. Plus, you’ll be able to visit them and they’ll hopefully visit you. Long-distance relationships are tough but rewarding like that. I know the heartache of having to leave a place and people that I love. I know what it’s like to desire living in another country yet being away from all of your closest friends. My heart hurts when I think about Malmö, Sweden – I wish I could go back all the time or yet, I wish I could bring it to Toronto.

Or maybe I’m just meant to be a traveler for the rest of my life. I’ll be the one who always leaves but is never left.

Fight or flight?

Sometimes I think I have “adapted” to life here, but I know that adapting takes several months. In addition to that, there are so many things that I will never get used to in Asia it seems, and I am okay with that. Adaptation means not carrying a map around with you everywhere. It means finding shortcuts, knowing the best restaurant on your street, or knowing when to feel comfortable and when to be cautious. Adaptation requires a specific expertise that will come with time. And adaptation leads to a minor or major change of personality. I won’t really notice the changes that Vietnam brings to me until I come back to Canada, but for now here’s what I can say.

Language is a huge deal when it comes to adaptation. Vietnam isn’t the first country I’ve lived in where I did not speak the national language, but back when I lived in Denmark, I actually took Danish for a month. The structure of Asian languages are completely different from the majority of Western languages, so I can’t even attempt to pick up on certain phrases or words – unlike Danish – because they don’t sound remotely anything like English. I speak broken English a lot in Vietnam and whenever I am around non-native English speakers in general. For example, I will say “We go to market” instead of “We are going to the market”. I actually like this broken English much better. It’s minimalistic. I use hand gestures and body language a lot too (Look mom, I’m a drama major now!). If I am in a situation where I can’t use body language (i.e. a cab ride), I will type words and numbers on my cell phone for the driver to see.

I’d like to think that there is a difference between a tourist and a (temporary) ex-pat. Some people will look at me on the street and automatically think “tourist” but perhaps with my Poise, Grace, Elegance and Street Smarts, I feel distinguished from those who are merely on vacation. It’s not a big deal what people think in the end, but sometimes tourists are just so obvious. And sometimes ex-pats are just so obvious. My roommate Aivy puts it succinctly, “This is Asia. People are different. You just never know…” :)

I think because I am only here for 3 months, there’s almost like a limitation on how much I can adapt. Three months is not a long time to really live in a country and know your city inside and out. At the same time, I personally think it’s enough for me because I think I’d go crazy here with the traffic, smog, general craziness, going to the exact. same. clubs every single weekend, and overall living in a somewhat risky city where you have to watch your back more than what you’re used to at home.

There are a lot of frustrating things that happen here in Vietnam. I just want to say that I have no fear in flipping perverted guys off and I have no shame in ignoring beggars and con artists. I am a fierce city girl – I am not interested in strangers-with-candy talking to me and I like it that way. In terms of pervy guys, they’re almost asking to be flipped off. If I ignore them, they start to laugh at me. Like, WHAT AM I???

At first I was deathly afraid of the traffic and I still am occasionally. I get road rage just walking down the street because god knows how many cement mixers and construction trucks are blocking my walking path. But now it’s like, I get physically angry that it has to be like this. In the beginning I was somewhat accepting of the traffic and now I am not afraid to yell profanities at idiot drivers who don’t understand things like “RIGHT OF WAY”, “RED LIGHT” and “LANE”. If you want your country to develop and prosper, you’re gonna have to learn one day, right? I have totally backlashed against many things in this city. At the same time, anger can sometimes be funny. When I think about being angry over such small things in life, it makes me go hohoho a little. It’s not a big deal…until I get run over by a vehicle. C’est la vie.

Then there’s adapting to work. Let me tell you how impossible and un-enjoyable it is for me to wake up before the ripe hour of 9:00am. I wake up at 7:30am and it kills me! I’m not sure how I am supposed to handle the real world. I don’t want weekends to be my only saving grace nor am I interested in beginning a love affair with coffee.

I’m very quiet and shy at work. I am willing to communicate cross-culturally, but if the other party is not willing, then WTF is the point? I barely speak at work. I am not understood most of the time. If I ask a question, like, “Where is the stapler?” I will receive a smile and a nod in return. There ain’t nothing special about work wardrobe either. We walk around barefoot or in flip flops in the office unless a client comes in. I think Vietnamese girls look very cute when they go to work, whereas I almost wear the same rotating items every day. I actually change into my clothes at work because the walk is so sweaty. Case in point, wardrobe versatility is definitely a privilege that I am not partaking in this summer.

There are certain mannerisms at work that are totally different for me, too. In Vietnam I have gathered that it’s not normal to say a friendly morning “Hello!” to your co-workers. But I say it anyways, because I would feel rude if I didn’t. I wear headphones at work occasionally. I feel pretty comfortable doing this, because my co-workers don’t talk to me anyways. Not to mention, every day there is some ear-piercing hammering and/or drilling noise in the building. Vietnam is in that stage of development where “noise pollution” is not a big deal…yet.

Sigh. You can only adapt so much, but at some point, you gotta either sit down or you gotta go to bed. Peace.

Tour de Pagoda

I had a wonderful evening with Tiina last night, a Vietnamese friend I met at a party. She is taking an MBA program in Finland, and will be returning there in September to conclude some of her research. I find her to be very brave to live in a cold, dark country like Finland, but Lahti University gave her a full scholarship, so she couldn’t say no. A Vietnamese girl in Finland of all places! I love free education.

In the rainy night, we visited two Pagodas: Vinh Nghiem and Xai Loi. The first pagoda was closed, and the second one was nothing but open! I got to watch part of a Buddhist prayer, which I have never seen before. I do not follow any religion but I have read a lot about Buddhism as a tool to reducing life’s general anxieties, so I felt pretty good about being there. We lit some incense to pray for her grandfather who suffered from a recent stroke. I felt very honored to do this with her. It almost brought a tear to my eye.

Afterwards, we went for noodles and bean desserts and talked about life. Tiina is very fortunate to live in Europe and travel around Asia. I found that we were very similar. Not only do we have the same purse/wallet from Sa Pa, and we fly out of Vietnam on the same day (September 4), but we want to live everywhere. We share the same values. We are both independent women. It was really nice to talk to somebody who understood. Of course, there are many hardships that come with wanting to live a freakishly international lifestyle, and we talked about those, too. Tiina appears as a 24 years old, but she is older. Many Vietnamese women are deceptively young when it comes to looks. She has a five-year-old child that she would like to raise in Europe one day, and I found this to be very inspiring and becoming. She has a very youthful and fun spirit which I see in many of my 30-something friends here (who, honestly, will remain 22 years old to me).

To top off our night out, I was walking down my street when I saw the neighbourhood kitty eating a pile of rice from a plate. For some reason I felt very sad, so I started petting it. It rubbed against my legs and started purring. At first, it was very distant and afraid. I reached my arm towards it but it backed away and I think this may go to show that animals aren’t treated very well by humans for the most part. It made me miss my cat at home sooo much! (What up Murphy?) Petting the kitty was a HUGE deal to me because I avoid animals like the plague in Vietnam – irrational yet reasonable fear of rabies, particularly in dogs. Speaking of which, I was chased by six small dogs (doberman-chihuahua-types) on the way to work the next day in front of a large group of people, which was hilarious.

That night, I came home and I felt really happy with myself. I don’t know why. I listened to my favourite album ever, “Dear You” by Jawbreaker while scraping candle wax off my wall. I learned to never leave candles out when there is an open window. Candle in the wind = not a good look for my room, sorry Mr. Elton John.

Tiina told me that I look very French, and I thought that was super-cute of her. I don’t think I look French at all, but she told me it’s in my eyes. I had a very Ameliesque haircut in high school, but that’s all I can say about that. Okay, maybe I could pass for a Mediterranean girl from southern France. And I’m definitely quasi-Portuguese/Spanish. Either way, what a compliment to tell me I look French! That totally made my day. French people are so stylish. Je ne sais quoi?

P.S. In lieu of all things French, I bought a large baguette for $0.30. So much respect.

Hoi An, I’m your man

One day prior to the CEC drama, I had booked a trip to Hoi An for a solid four days. When I heard about the office closing, I was not cancelling my trip. Anything I’d have to deal with, I would face on Monday. The people at my office are very understanding, which I am thankful for. Hoi An turned out to be fantastische!

I spent my days wandering around the small town of Hoi An which is filled with ancient Chinese culture, silk tailors and dressmakers, and a nice beach about 15 minutes away by biking. I also visited ancient the Cham ruins called “My Son”. I LOOOOOVE RUINS of any sort! So it was very exciting for me. Cham people came from Java in Indonesia and these people practised Hinduism, which was apparent in the architecture. Many of the ruins were damaged by the Vietnam War, yet Hoi An town miraculously maintains its charm of old Chinese assembly halls and houses.

It sounds like my dream town, people. I need culture, fashion, beaches, nature, bicycles and cheap food to sustain myself. However, Hoi An was far from sustainable. Not gonna lie, I spent a lot of $$$ getting beautiful freaking amazing clothes made because that is what the town is renowned for. In Canada, how much does it cost to get a dress made? My mom is a tailor, so maybe $200-500 depending on the fabric and elaboration. In Hoi An, it’s about $25-40 USD for a very nice dress, with the option of having it in silk. It costs more for details. Well, I’m a huge sucker for details, elaboration, and quality. So you can imagine me in a town like Hoi An where all the tailors and dressmakers are lining the streets like crazy. They are almost impossible to escape. Not sure if I was in heaven or in hell. Oh, and for the men, it’s about $80-$150 to get a suit made for you. A SUIT. How many hundreds of dollars does that cost in Canada?!?

Despite the fun times in Hoi An, I felt lonely yet again, but this is a feeling I am getting used to. I kept myself very busy and I chilled out at night by the television. Highlight of Hoi An television: MTV Asia, which played Michael Jackson videos for about 1 hour <3

Other highlights included: the singing garbage truck. Every day, the garbage truck comes by and it sings some sort of ancient Vietnamese tune in midi-format. I thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately, I could not get a video of it, but the tune will forever remain in my heart.

Hoi An sounds like a town of dreams, of course, but some unfortunate things did happen. I won’t go into too much detail about this, but I basically printed out pictures of garments I wanted to get made. I came prepared. I showed many high-end tailors and they were charging $60-80 for one detailed outfit I wanted. I find one (sketchy) place and they said they would do it for $40. I should have known, ohhhh, I should have known…

This is where I learned my biggest lesson: If it’s not expensive, it’s SHIT. It’s absolute shit.

Surprised by the low price, I paid the deposit all dumbfounded. I came in the next day for a fitting, and I almost cried. The outfit looked nothing like the picture. I was fuming. The tailor came up with many excuses. “My machine cannot do that kind of detail”, and “The fabric you chose was too difficult”.

YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT BEFORE, WOMAN!!!!!!

I would have known to avoid your unprofessional “business”.

*Deep breath*. Lesson learned in the tailoring world: Go to high-end places. ALWAYS. I lost $10 deposit and I ended up paying $20 for a skirt that wasn’t even what I wanted, but I thought, whatever. I am going to ask my mom to fix it.

After that, the days started to improve!!! Not. I went to an Agribank ATM to take out some cash. Ten minutes later, I go into a store to pick something up, I looked into my wallet and I see 1.4 million VND missing (around $90 CDN). Yes, I start bawling my eyes out. I ask for help – people in Hoi An speak very good English – but no one could do anything for me. Reporting it to the police wasn’t even an option because nobody knows “who” took the money.

You don’t understand. I guard my bag like a HAWK. A hawwwwwwwwk! How could this happen to me of all people? A poor, blundering yet cautious student loses 1 month worth of food, or almost 1 month’s rent.

I returned back to Saigon and I was happier than ever to come home and just chill. I could have used more days in the beautiful beach in Hoi An, but I just needed to get away from that scheming yet lovely hole. I created some budgeting goals to make up for the lost money. Erin = not a person who is good at extreme budgeting and intense self-control. Let me repeat in different words: I lack a lot of willpower. I am not good at restraints. I do what I feel is natural. I AM ANIMAL.

Now I’m back at work and I’m just procrastinating.

Disregard my last post…

My internship with the CEC is back in action. The CEC is pressuring the government to keep offices running globally, and is also looking for alternative funding. I think it’s an awkward situation, but hey, at least I have my internship back and I don’t have to worry about looking for a new one.

So sketchy, though. One day I hear that the CEC is permanently closed, and the next day I hear that the international offices are still running.

PROFESSIONAL, NO?

Now I have to apologize to everyone I asked in regards to looking for a new internship. “So yeah, remember when I told you my office closed? Never mind! It’s back! Thanks anyways!”