Happy Christmas - War is Over?

Every so often I’ll do a news search for Hanoi stories.

I like to keep in touch with everything that is going on here. Also, if there is a new company opening up in the city then it’s always worth checking them out in case they are good for a donation.

Yesterday I did the search and I got reams of American election rubbish. As usual Vietnam is an American political football. Shock horror, the Vietnam Vets Against the War were in touch with Communist Hanoi. Who cares – strange as it may seem to the media in America, Hanoi didn’t want a war. Just like the Vietnam Vets they wanted it over. Is it such a surprise that there might be links between the two organisations?

But anyway, before I get stuck in this ridiculous argument I wanted to write about something that happened yesterday.

Each year KOTO holds a Winter Appeal. And each year there are different beneficiaries. It may be cooking hot soup for homeless people and collecting clothes to give out. On another occasion it was a trip to a kids’ detention center. This year we look like joining up with the Friendship Village.

Set up by a Vietnam Vet who also, it appears, had links with Hanoi, it’s a small area that is dedicated to caring for children who have suffered because of Agent Orange. For those of you who don’t know, Agent Orange was the toxic substance that was dropped on Vietnam as a defoliant to wipe out the jungles where the Viet Cong were supposedly hiding.

In short, ever since then hundreds of thousands have died as a result of the on-going problems caused by Agent Orange. In addition, many more children are still being born with serious defects. The after effects of Agent Orange are on-going. The Friendship Village looks after these children.

Anyway, yesterday we visited the site. After a short talk, we had a walk around and met the kids. Nothing can prepare you for this. One of the cruelest factors about Agent Orange and its effects is the vast array of disabilities. Kids with peculiar body shapes, kids with no legs, kids with the most horrific deformities, kids with mental disabilities. It is shocking.

On arriving one child took a hold of my hand and barely let go the whole time I was there. He followed us from room to room – waiting outside while we looked around, then putting his hand in mine again when we walked out again. There were kids learning skills doing needlework and making clothes. Others, were being rehabilitated and being given prosthetic limbs. Others, I guess, could only be made comfortable.

It was hugely emotional and I suppose I was coping fine. But then we went into a room where a group of kids were learning how to use waking aids. I suddenly became aware of one small child hugging my knees. I squatted down so I could see him face to face. Then he just put his arms around my neck and hugged me. And I lost it. I’m losing it again now typing this.

I walked around the rest of the place with a lump in my throat. The disabilities were horrendous. You are also aware of your own inability to deal with what you see. There is a part of you that just wants to recoil and hide. When the kid holds your hand you look to see how clean he is. These are very basic instincts and they make you feel very ashamed.

This is work that I am doing as part of my time with KOTO. I have no training in working with kids or young people with disabilities. I am a fundraiser. I don’t know how to react to it or how to deal with it emotionally. The kids we have at KOTO are a bright, sharp, good-looking bunch. Then you meet these Agent Orange victims and, for a second, you see street kids as the lucky ones.

Anyway, the upshot is that this year we will probably do the Winter Appeal on behalf of The Friendship Village. Collecting of donations will soon start in earnest. The event itself is how I will be spending my Christmas Day this year.

We talked afterwards about how the day should go. We want to put on a fun day with music and dancing and kids’ entertainment. We want it to be something that will be enjoyed by everyone there regardless of their disabilities. I am sure it’ll be the most amazing Christmas Day I have ever had. I hope we can make it as memorable for the kids of The Friendship Village.

This is what KOTO should be about. The wider plan is that, as and when we get financing for our new restaurant and when we become sustainable as a result of the move, we can these put our motto of : “Know One Teach One” into action and work in wider community projects in Vietnam. The good luck that the kids on our program have had can be passed on.

In addition, we’re looking into wider partnerships with The Friendship Village. Maybe they can make our uniforms. Maybe they can help us create beautiful items to sell as merchandising. We want KOTO to stand for not only helping street kids but also, in the future, about using ethical suppliers and even, potentially, organic goods, environmentally friendly packaging etc.

The ambitions for KOTO know no bounds. We want more KOTOs in Vietnam and South East Asia. Then, maybe India, South America and Africa. Maybe there will one day be a KOTO in your town. Maybe it won’t be staffed by former street kids but it will be a place where you can enjoy your meal in the knowledge that the profits will go to good causes either in your community or abroad.

A final thought before I go into the plug bit again. It’s easy to write off Agent Orange as a one-off or as a catastrophic blip by the American Military. Well, in the last two years depleted uranium weapons have been repeatedly used in Afghanistan and Iraq. It has left behind a new horrific legacy for children and adults alike and cancer rates are soaring. The horrors of Vietnam are being repeated elsewhere.

So anyway, here is the plug once more:

KOTO needs $80,000 to build a new training restaurant for its organisation that takes in street kids and gives them a home training, medical care, a roof over their heads etc etc.

We need to find this money by Spring. To try and find it we are selling bricks in the new place at $50 each. Buy one and get your name on it. If you are an ex-pat it’ll be a permanent reminder of your time in Vietnam. If you always wanted to visit Vietnam then buy one and resolve to come and see it.

In addition, there is a charity bike ride on December 11th from Hanoi to Ba Vi. It’s a beautiful route, I know because I traveled it by scooter on Sunday and my backside still hurts. It’s 70Ks – raise $150 and you’re in.

For information on either contact me on ourmaninhanoi@gmail.com. Or, if you’re a blogger then link me and prompt your readers to either make a donation or do the same. Thank-you to all those people who contacted me this week wanting to buy a brick. Thank-you also to the gentleman from Saigon who says he would like to do the ride. Thank you to those that linked me – including The Guardian and Blogger. Thank-you to all those who left messages of support.

Sorry for no links in this piece. You’ll have to Google it all – this machine doesn’t seem to have the capacity to deal with half the blogger tools.

Cheers all.

Smiles and Tears

If my relationship with Vietnam can be described in the context of a love affair, then I have now reached the full on sweaty palms, butterflies in the stomach and I'm pathetically sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring.

I'm so smitten.

And I'm smitten by KOTO too. Imagine the day you have right now. Imagine the going to work, the grind, imagine the commute. Now imagine it again with 50 kids shouting "hallos" at you with their beaming faces everywhere.

Imagine be able to play a part in helping an organisation like KOTO.

My boss was telling me what a scooter taxi driver had said about the KOTO kids.

He said he had noticed that they all started with the same scraggy street kid hair cuts, their shoulders drooped, they were shy and they were scared. Only 18 months later, after graduating from the KOTO school, they're standing up straight, they're confident, their hair is most likely gelled and their clothes are distinctly trendy.

And most importantly they're smiling.

My heart is metled so often there is a danger of it permanently turning to slush.

This week I have spent a lot of time with KOTO's Australia-based head honcho. Like Jimmy, my boss, she's an inspiration. Talking to her over a Tiger beer or eight, she talks of the kids in glowing terms. At sporadic intervals you can see tears appear in her eyes.

I can understand the tears because I spend half my time here in a state of near bawling. The strange thing is that that they are not sad tears. You could hardly describe them as happy either. But, I think, they are just a result of the emotion that is all around me. I have been warned that the KOTO graduation ceremony is one big blub fest.

So far, on more than one occasion, when I have been on my own, I have given up fighting the tears.

This week has been mental. Alongside drinking and working with the head honcho we've been putting in place a plan for KOTO's new home.

In short we need $80,000 to finance it. The telling of the warm and fuzzy stories will stop for a while - in their place they will be replaced by pleas for help.

We're developing a scheme whereby people can buy bricks in the new building. If you're an ex-pat then buy a brick as a permanent reminder of your time here. If you've never even visited then buy a brick and then resolve to come and see it. If you just want to play a real part in changing a street kid's life for the better -then buy a brick.

They're $50 each. I've broken the news to my family that they aren't getting Christmas presents this year. I'm getting one brick with the family name on it and another for my six-week-old niece. Hopefully she can see it for herself one day.

That's a thought, bricks for christening presents. Western kids are born lucky - what better way to celebrate their birth than buying a brick to help kids who aren't so fortunate.

Okay, sales pitch over.

Tomorrow I will be a passenger on the back of a scooter. We will be travelling 140ks. We're checking out the route (and returning) of the 70k KOTO charity bike ride. It'll be nice to get out of the city. Anyone out there in Nam (or nearby) who wants to take part? The ride is on December 11th. Raise $150 dollars and you're in - we can even provide the bike.

Finally, no post would be complete without a mention of all things Tyneside. There's been something of a black and white thread through this week. Being the new boy I had to sing at a staff do on Thursday, so Hanoi got it's first performance of Blaydon Races. Meanwhile the Toon were seeing off another UEFA cup opponent.

Just half an hour ago, as I sat down to write this, I checked my email. Rather fantastically I had a note in my in-box from Newcastle United football club. They are making encouraging noises about providing Toon strips for the KOTO football team. They might even take a pic and some text from me for a match programme.

It's all good and all part of my master plan to twin Hanoi with Tyneside. I'm becoming more and more convinced that with the Vietnamese love of beer, plus its ability to laugh at itself, they are the Geordies of South East Asia.

Toon Toon

PS. If anyone does want a brick or any more info on cycle rides than you can email me at ourmaninhanoi@gmail.com More information on KOTO is available through the links on the right of this page.

Likewise, if there are any bloggers out there who want to plug brick sales on their own site then send your visitors in my direction. This could be the house that blogland built.

Oops, I nearly forgot. I was going to let you know who the British VIP was who visited KOTO. Check out the link.

The darker side of Nam

So far you have listened to me wax lyrical about Vietnam.

Of course though, there is a darker side.

After a well earned Friday at the pub I left at the same time as my female housemate in the small hours of Saturday morning. I caught a motorbike taxi back - my friend opted to cycle.

She was robbed. Only 150 yards from our home her bag was snatched.

Of course whenever you are a victim of crime you give yourself a hard time. Every crime can be avoided but you can't live your life always taking precautions. If you did you wouldn't leave the house.

Looking back I can't believe I let her cycle back on her own. But it never occured to me to question her view on what was safe - she has lived here a lot longer than I have. She, of course, is cursing the fact that she was carrying the bag.

Thinking about it. It's the very safety of Hanoi that made us so liable to become victims of crime. There can be few cities in the world where you would feel so safe - as a result of that you start to get sloppy in the precautions you take.

My housemate is a little shaken up. Luckily she wasn't hurt. However we have now resolved to travel back in twos and take a taxi when we can. Taxis are expensive but not quite so bad if there is a few of you.

Of course, the real shame is that is it taints all our views on the city - which is far safer than most back home.

In the meantime, it's Monday and I'm back at work again. The electricity went off today so I worked from the VSO office for a couple of hours. I even used their super fast internet facility to have a surf around the net and locate some possible KOTO helpers.

In a fit of optimism I even emailed Jamie Oliver's charity to try and talk him into repeating his Jamie's Kitchen format here in Vietnam. There are many similarities between KOTO and his TV series. I reckon a one-off Vietnam show would make a cracking Christmas special or something similar. Anyway, it's a longshot but well worth the effort of sending an email.

So if anyone knows any TV producers pitch them the idea for me and point them in my direction.

Oh and emailed the Toon about providing strips for the football team here. I have a dream.....I will create the KOTO Magpies.

Work Rest and Play - the VSO way.

Sorry no pics for the time being – not until I can work out a way to post from my laptop once more.

Apologies also for the length of time between posts. The hassles of new job and new home have left little time for posting.

Anyway, because there is much to tell, I have opted instead to split it into three categories. Work, ex-pat life and domestic bliss.

By the way, it’s from this point onwards that all readers are invited to add their own ideas for fundraising for KOTO. I may be calling in favours.


Work

Work is good, generally speaking. Good despite being locked in the office last night. This, the local staff informed me, is quite normal for volunteers. Apparently it has happened many times before. Strangely despite this they haven’t yet worked out a plan for not locking up without first checking the building is empty.

Anyway, after much searching for mobile phone numbers in and around people’s desks and much cursing while trying to work out how to get an outside line, I made my escape.

It is certainly an interesting time to be working for KOTO. During my two-year stint here, plans include moving to a new all-purpose restaurant and training centre in Hanoi. There’s also the aim of opening a similar operation in Hue and later in Siem Reap, Cambodia. The good news is that I will get to travel between all these sites – the bad news? Well who do you think has to find the money to finance all of this?

Actually, it’s not all falling on my shoulders. I have an impressively able Aussie colleague who is working with me. Currently she has the slightly less fun task of filling in funding applications to send to various philanthropic bodies. She is keen to help me in the more exciting end of fundraising. I am keen that she assists me – I can certainly use the help.

The staff are fantastic. Although , as ever, I seem to unintentionally amuse them. Every time I go past their little office window I hear giggles. I’m starting to think that there’s a joke here in Vietnam that every one gets but me. But I think it is good-natured. Or at least I hope so.

Currently I am on the thumb twiddling and inventing work stage of my job. I’ve been, on the whole much left to my own devices this first week. I’ve taken the time to sort through any fundraising activity that has gone before me. I wrote a press release about a VIP visitor to KOTO – a British VIP at that. I shall hopefully be able to post pictures of him at some point – I will keep his identity under wraps till then.

I have also bitten the bullet and decided that, despite my limited knowledge of the operation here, I would try to start a basic fundraising plan. Remembering my VSO training, the aim is then to consult management and staff here for their thoughts and additions. So far, the boss seems pleased with both my ideas and my work – long may that continue.

That brings me to what will be the fun part of my job – events. In a little over six weeks there will be a 70k KOTO bike ride. I get to organise it. After that there is a winter appeal where KOTO collects clothes for the homeless and the trainees provide food that will hopefully help the less well off combat the cold – which I am promised will arrive soon.

Other than that I have contributed some ideas of my own – a backpackers ball and a monthly event for bored ex-pats are two of them. (Rob and Katy in Ibiza – any chance you could lend us a DJ?) . Other plans already existing for the new venue, include movie nights and themed “taste of home” events for Embassy staff.

All in all it seems like a lot of fun. Like being a club promoter but with a worthy caused to help.

There seems to be no shortage of energy here to drive me onwards and no shortage of will to make it work. I hope I can come up with the goods.

In general though it is a little strange to be back at work. Working from home for the past 18 months has made me unused to alarm clocks and the morning commute (albeit a very pleasant 15 minute walk).

I have learned that even working for a good cause makes it no easier when your alarm goes off at 6.45am.

Anyway, today is Friday, my first week is almost over. Bia Hoi (that’s cheap draught beer to you) here we come.

Nearly forgot. I have always had the plan to return home for a couple of weeks next Easter. Having mentioned it to the boss he is very keen that I mix my trip home with a little bit of fundraising. So, if you’re reading this and would like to learn a little more about KOTO and you can provide an audience and a reasonable donation then give me a shout and I’ll see you in April..


Ex-pat life

Talk of the weekend leads me nicely into ex-pat life. On the one level the VSO volunteers in Hanoi have certainly struck lucky. Not for us African mud huts or even the isolation of the Vietnamese countryside. Right here in Hanoi we have all the fish and chips we could eat and I’ve even managed to source a pretty decent bangers and mash.

I’ve always had a mistrust of people who go abroad and take their own bottle of HP Sauce with them but if you’re an ex-pat then it’s kind of forgivable. I mean, I love Vietnamese food but you can’t eat it everyday. Just like I wouldn’t eat English food every day back home.

Gettingg back to the lot of a VSO volunteer. As I said, we are a pretty lucky bunch. However a slightly embittered ex VSOer I met referred to us as the plankton in the NGO food chain. As an example, a UN “volunteer” gets around $1,500 a month, a fortune by local standards, compared to our $250 a month.

I have to say though, I have no complains. What I get seems very reasonable and does allow me to have a life here. It wouldn’t feel right if I had any more cash. No VSO volunteer is doing it for the money but that’s not to say they are necessarily doing it entirely for charitable reasons. Most are lured here, myself included, by a mixture of the adventure and the cause.

I must admit though I had a slightly jaundiced view of ex-pats. Then again, now I am one, I am seeing it from a new angle. Don’t worry I won’t be sipping gin and teaching the locals how to play cricket. But then again I did have a quick look around a shop here called “Western Canned Goods” and was delighted to find they have both malt vinegar and Colman’s Mustard. Man cannot live on rice alone.

There does seem to be a social scene amongst volunteers. I have found a couple of very nice pubs to have a beer in. Last Saturday I even went to a night club. A grotty little boat on the Red River called, get this, The Titanic. Lovely setting, awful music, not sure about the clientele. No doubt I will be back but it might be a while. Then again there’s every chance I could be talked into it tomorrow night.


Domestic Bliss

My new home is pretty decent. My room is a little dark but I do have another room adjoining and a balcony. Right now it needs clearing out a little and personalizing a bit but I have a plans to turn the balcony into a chill out lounging area. I am in search of a comfortable outside chair and an oversized fan. In addition I have bought some mozzy coils to burn to keep the insects off.

For the most part the life of a volunteer here seems to consist of watching an enormous numbers of DVDs in the evening. Money doesn’t stretch to going out every night but films, almost all of which are pirated, are cheap to buy. The TV option isn’t great. We get CNN (which is already driving me nuts), HBO and ESPN sports amongst others. Believe it or not we actually get more football coverage than at home. When the lads back home in the Toon settle down to watch Newcastle V Charlton on Sunday they should spare a thought for me watching it here – with it finishing around 1am.

My housemates are very nice and have really helped me settled in. There will come a time though when my social life shouldn’t rely on them asking me out to visit their friends. No doubt I will make my own mates in time.

Domestic arrangements are a little different. While mostly it is cheapest just to eat out, there are times when all you want to do is have a quiet evening and not leave your front door. The good news is that while you can struggle with the language and bargaining problems in the local market, you can opt instead for the super market. There is a reasonable selection there but, even taking that into account, it’s pretty difficult to find all the ingredients to make the kind of meals I might eat at home. Most of the time I make do with a sandwich or beans on toast or some such snack food.

At this point I should mention that lunch is taken care of at work. Rather fantastically I have a restaurant menu that I can order from and get lovely KOTO food every lunchtime. Darling the tofu crepes with prawns are to die for.

The other different aspect about eating at home is the crumb factor. Because of the ants, cockroaches and rats here you really don’t want to leave a single crumb on the kitchen work top after you have eaten, never mind dirty plates or unwashed pans. I have been warned that if I don’t want domestic bliss interrupted by large back beetley things with those nasty antennas, then I shall have to turn over a new leaf in terms of being a little more house proud.

Right that should do it right now. I shall hopefully post again soon, although work pressures will mean that it might not quite reach the levels of before.

TOON TOON.

Bowled Over

At ten o’clock tonight I cruised home on the back of a scooter taxi grinning from ear to ear inside my lurid crash helmet.

I was returning from an evening’s bowling with the KOTO teachers and kids. It was a lot of fun. Every strike was met with massive cheers, ever near miss was greeted with a sympathetic: “Awwwww,” and both staff and pupils alike made me feel very at home.

Just for an instant back there I can imagine why people become teachers. Working with kids can be a real buzz. And while my work won’t directly be with the kids, they will always be around and I can’t think of anything better to motivate me.

The phrase “rags to riches” is overused and 99% of the time is inaccurate. But between KOTO and the kids they make it happen. KOTO graduates are literally going from working on the streets to eventually running their own restaurants.

It’s starting to dawn on me that working with KOTO will be bring both pleasure and pressure. I was told so many times tonight that they can’t wait for me to start, or they’re counting the days, or they’re letting me know how much they need me.

It’s great to wanted. It’s great to be welcomed so heartily. It’s nice to be valued. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I failed them.

Tonight was beautiful. Everything I like about Vietnam was writ large on the faces of the kids - the friendliness, the humour and all those smiles.

I can't think of a better organisation to do my VSO with than KOTO.

A couple more loose ends to tie up - firstly, as regards the Vietnamese exam, I think I must have averaged about fifty to sixty percent on the papers. More than I expected and probably more than I deserved. But either way, it is behind me and I woke up this morning beaming at the thought that I didn’t have to run downstairs for another lesson.

Secondly I move out of the house tomorrow and into my new pad that will be my home for the next two years.

This evening, as I got in from the bowling, the rest of the house was sitting sharing a bottle of wine and fruit (there’s always fruit in Vietnam) with our hosts as part of an impromptu goodbye party.

We had bought our hosts flowers and chocolates.

I was knocked out by what they gave us. While the girls received beautiful silk purses the men got elaborate, polished, dark wood pen stands with incredibly intricate inlaid mother of pearl.

Yet more kindness and generosity in Vietnam. Our hosts have been truly fabulous.

As mentioned, tomorrow I move out of the house. On Monday I start work.

The new house has nowhere to plug a laptop in, I don’t yet know whether work has such a connection. But, in the meantime, there might be a delay until I figure out where I can post pics.

But, in the meantime I shall continue to snap around the city and will share the pics with you just as soon as I can.

Oi troi Oi.

The heading means “Oh My God” in Vietnamese. But don’t quote me on it – it’ll be missing accents and tones and god knows what else and is very probably spelled incorrectly.

Such is the level of my Vietnamese.

I was prompted to write this following our final exam. It’s all a rather unnatural experience. Firstly the exam is to test the teacher’s ability not the students. However bad I do it is only my ego that is going to take a hammering. But then again a lousy mark, and it will be lousy, isn’t exactly going to have VSO falling over themselves with admiration.

Right now I’m just annoyed by it. I share a class of four where one of the students is a language specialist and another has spent a year in Hanoi and even back home works with Vietnamese people.

Then there’s a third student who has mastered Hebrew in the past.

Then there’s me. It would be easy to say I didn’t stand a chance from the outset. In a class hungry for knowledge and with the expertise to make use of it, I was floundering from the very start. The stammering of answers, the blushing, the frequent losses of concentration, the diminishing self-confidence - all in all it was French lessons in my early teens all over again – but this time with adult-sized humiliation.

I hold my hand up and will admit my general crapness. I will also admit that yes I could have squeezed in more hours of study. Maybe I could have turned my rank awfulness into a respectably average level.

But God it was awful. The two and a half hour lessons that turned my brain to jelly left me knowing little more than I had known the 150 minutes earlier. Then there was the switching between teachers so you never knew from day to day who would be your next tutor. Would your homework be corrected? Would they ask for your homework? Is it even worth doing your homework?

In attempting to revise for my exam I learnt a short spiel about my family. I could say I had two sisters. I could say what their jobs were. I could say both their ages. I could say my mother and fathers' ages. I could say my father likes beer and my mother likes coffee (it’s all getting a bit creative at this point).

Then I entered the exam and they wanted me to talk about shopping instead. I was switched back to the family stuff only after mild argument and major panic.

The first exam paper had a spelling mistake rendering question one unanswerable. The second was much harder than our specimen exam paper suggested. Sample question (specimen) “What does com mean in English?” Sample question (real thing) “Explain where the bank is in on the map?”

Com means rice by the way. I haven’t the slightest idea where the bank is.

The final paper was listening and comprehension. After much forwarding and rewinding of the tape we started just as I thought we were still hunting for the right conversation to play. Before I realised we were off, the conversation had sailed past questions two, three, four and five.

Suddenly the heat was on. Then it dawned on me that the exam paper didn’t say whether they wanted the answers in translated English or in Vietnamese. I tried in Vietnamese but by the time I had understood, translated, thought up the answer in English and translated again, questions six, seven and eight had also flown by.

The invigilator was good enough to play it again, and again and eventually read it to us but it made little difference.

In Country Training has been such a mixed bag for me. Sheer delight, wonder and everything else that I am here. Every time I get the chance to slip away for an hour or two, I grin from ear to ear at everything that is around me. I really and truly love it here. I want to shout a happy “XIN CHAO!” to everyone I meet, make funny faces at the kids and hand out cigarettes to the moto drivers.

But the rest of the time I am stuck in doors, learning Vietnamese in a way that VSO is trying to revert by importing teachers from the UK. Primary school kids are now learning from the newest, brightest, teaching methods – VSO volunteers are still scribbling quickly in their notepads as Sir writes on the board and offers dictation.

This is not to say that all the ICT has been a nightmare, far from it. The talks we have had on culture, history and the economy have been fascinating. And while my Vietnamese is truly terrible I can order a coffee, ask a moto driver how much into town, wish every one a good morning and say: “Thank-you, I am very well, how are you.”

I have decided I would like to carry on my Vietnamese. Okay, that’s not quite true. I would like never to learn it again. I have decided that I SHOULD continue to learn Vietnamese. But I want to learn it for around a couple of hours a week, one-to-one, working at my pace. For the rest of the week I want to try out what I learn on the fantastic people around me.

The most damning thing I can say about In Country Training is that it needn’t be in-country at all. A classroom is a classroom is a classroom. You wouldn’t go to the North Pole and teach people about snow from pictures on the board. You wouldn’t go to Egypt and learn about the Pyramids from an exercise book. I wanted to go out and experience it all. I wanted to learn lessons that were of value to me like how to get the best price for a moto ride, how do I get trousers made that don’t make me look quite so ridiculous, how do I behave when invited to dinner by a respectable Vietnamese family?

Of course, I also wanted to know how to get things done here so I can do the best possible job for KOTO.

Still, it is now all but over. Tomorrow we will take a quick look at the exam before doing a last review of the work. Then no more two and a half hours a day. Thursday we do a workshop all about street kids.

Then I get a blissful Friday, Saturday and Sunday off before I start work at KOTO.

Looks like I’m going to make it. Ego dented, confidence bashed and feeling rather unintelligent. But I’ve made it all the same.

*Pictures are from my trip on Sunday to the Temple of Literature.

What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?

We rose early this morning. Up at 5.30am to be precise.

Well, you don’t mind putting yourself out a little bit when world peace is at stake.

Today there was a march in town. Partly to commemorate the 50 years since the liberation of Hanoi, partly as a kind of mild protest against war (although no one said which war – but I think we can guess) and partly against terrorist atrocities.

Basically, there was something for everybody.

Unlike the anti-war marches that I have joined before, this was very much a Government-organised affair.

There were standard issue hats and flags everywhere. It was all carefully organised and neatly segregated into kids, soldiers, VIPs and our little band of ex-pats.




While this was clearly state sponsored protest of the mildest variety don’t think it was carried out begrudgingly. It wasn’t – everyone had a ball.




Doves and balloons were released. Young people danced. Kids in uniforms marched. Best of all were the old folks in their special occasion silk, white pyjamas clapping us along the route (once around the lake).




For the old people these early mornings are nothing new. They get up at that hour every day and if you’re insane enough to join them then you’ll see them running through their tai chi manoeuvres. They take personal fitness very seriously here, with even the old dears in their eighties and nineties taking part.

It would be easy to be cynical about such events. It could be viewed as old-style, Communist pomp and ceremony aimed at boosting the morale and devotion of the people. And maybe it is.

But there was nothing false about today at all. The large painting of Uncle Ho, which was paraded through the streets, was shown real respect and, as a foreigner, the waves and smiles of the Tai Chi fogies were both genuine and warm.

For those of us in the UK that haven’t lived through the war, it is easy to take peace for granted. Here it’s a luxury and they intend to enjoy it. No one should begrudge their enjoyment of these good times – just as no one should underestimate their real empathy with the people of Iraq.

Me? I was just glad to be invited and very honoured to take part.

A Beautiful Day

After the storms of yesterday evening, today is beautifully cool and, enjoying a rare day off, I went for a wander.

With the luxury of a lie in, I rose around 9.30am (almost midday by local standards), used the newly mended computer connection at home and then caught a scooter ride into town.

Below are some pictures I took in and around the lake. In addition, I had a quick look around the mini museum dedicated to the tortoises that inhabit the water.

I have had to put up with some doubts about whether my tortoise spotting was genuine - but check out the pictures from the museum with my own sighting. I have indeed seen the legendry tortoise of the lake. ( will be added later - am having some internet cafe problems).

There's a chance that if you log on shortly after the words are posted then the pics won't yet be below. If that's the case then it is due to sligthly quirky way I am updating my blog. Pics have to be uploaded directly from my laptop using the connection at home - while the words are better keyed in from an internet cafe.

My host limits internet access and Blogger seems to take a very long time on her connection while Picasso (the picture software for the uninitiated non-bloggers amongst you) is pretty speedy.

So if the pics aren't here yet - then check back later and hopefully they should be up soon.

Back Copy

The following entries have been stored on my laptop waiting for the internet link to be mended. It’s best read in chronological order – from bottom to top. Happy reading.

October 1st, 2004.




Good Cheer. Good Bia

I had forgotten how much better appreciated Vietnam is when you’re a few drinks down.

I’m just back from a well-deserved Friday night out. Thus far our In Country Training has left little time or energy for socialising and tonight has been very pleasant.

It’s not as if I have had a skinful – about four pints to be precise, but it’s been enough to put a spring in my step and increase my love of this remarkable country.

There’s something just naturally funny about the Vietnamese. Take the taxi we travelled home in. At 70mph on the motorway he noticed his mate in the slow lane. So we drove up alongside him, and our driver wound down the window. Cue loud piss-taking, shouting and general hilarity. The noise level went up a notch or two when the other driver noticed there was westerners in our car. Suddenly we got the usual “allo,” and “how are you” followed by much manic laughter.

Totally silly. Totally dangerous. And very very funny.

To add to this an abandoned scooter nearly caused us to crash as we were riding two abreast. It was right there in the middle of the road. I guess it broke down, but surely you could wheel a scooter to the hard shoulder, couldn’t you?

All of this may sound condescending – I hope not. That is not my intention. I’ve spent the day hanging out in the VSO office fooling around trying to make the locals laugh. And don’t worry – us Westerners, more often than not, are the butt of all jokes.

Tonight is a beautiful evening. As we prepared to go out earlier the heavens opened and we got the works. Torrential rain, thunder, lightning – we went up to the roof to watch it all.

The aftermath was very welcome with a (get this) cool breeze and a rare freshness. Every gust of wind felt like kisses on the back of your neck.

Next week is a big one for Vietnam. They are hosting the ASEM conference. To try and clear the streets for their visitors everyone has been told to stay at home for three days. Can you imagine that anywhere else in the world? No work, no school, no nothing. Hanoi will be a ghost town.

In addition, they are also celebrating 50 years liberation from the French. As part of this a peace march is to take place on the Sunday. I shall be attending.

Attending, that is, despite a 6.15am start.

No one knows the value of peace more than Vietnam. No country is better placed to sympathise with the plight of Iraqis. No where will the message of support to victims of war and terrorism be more heartfelt.

But tomorrow, I get a lie in, a rare treat. Trouble is, in Vietnam sleeping feels like you’re missing out.

I know, I have said it before, but…..

I love this country.

I’m delighted to also find that my fellow volunteers, on their first trip to Vietnam, have fallen in love too. If you haven’t visited before then you should do.

This is a very very special place


Wednesday 29th September, 2004.

Over the Moon / Sick as a Parrot




I spent today in bed. Days of food spending too little time between my plate and the Hanoi sewerage system finally caught up with me.

It wasn’t stomach pains or fever that felled me – just cumulative dehydration which left me a little light-headed.

I rose once – to walk along Pho Vong for some soup and to stock up on much needed water. The rest of the time I have been sleeping, sipping liquids with Diarolyte, and sporadically reading.

I’m hopeful that this minor illness, that has been with me since my homestay, will disappear by tomorrow. Certainly, the food consumed today (bread and soup) shouldn’t pose my system too much of a challenge.

Last night three of us ventured from the house to take the short trip to the centre of Hanoi to experience the mid autumn celebrations. I’m not entirely sure of the details but essentially it marks the full moon at its largest and most easily viewed.

While I had expected a little more pomp, there was no shortage of people by the lake. Lots of groups of teenagers sitting on rugs, devouring either the wide array of local fruit or such delicacies as dried cuttlefish. The fruit is fantastic. As for the cuttlefish I believe we have the right idea when we feed it to budgies.

Another feature of this time of the year is the Moon Cake. It appears to be a real favourite with everyone and something of a treat but to western tastes it’s a little bizarre. You know those pork pies with the egg inside. Well imagine if the pork bit was replaced with chocolate but with the egg left intact. In addition the whole thing has a vaguely marzipan-like taste plus an unmistakeable hint of fried rice.

All in all – not good.

I’m aware that I have been giving local food a hard time recently. Actually, for the most part, it is fantastic. A case in point was the meal we had at the excellent Highway 4 last night before our lakeside walk. Beef in plum sauce cooked at our table, a fine Thai style salad with nuts and squid, catfish patties with a spicy sauce and the omnipresent spring roles.

Spending time in after-dark Hanoi is always a treat. The lake, misty and mysterious by day, becomes romantic and peaceful by night.

Such is its allure, local teenagers congregate around it with boyfriends and girlfriends. This kind of activity, although almost entirely innocent, is still frowned upon by local culture. To me it all seems rather naïve and sweet. However, a visiting lecturer dispatched to our class to share his thoughts on Vietnamese culture, told me another side of the story.

While sex before marriage officially doesn’t exist in Vietnam – the reality is that a third of teenage girls in Vietnam will undergo an abortion. In many cases girls will have two, three or more abortions. Yet another example of the public and private face of this country not matching up.

Despite all of this, the naivety of Vietnam still shines through. Take the young people out last night for example. It’s unlikely that their western counterparts would be willing to spend an evening watching the full moon with only fruit as sustenance.

“Hey, we got fruit, we got dried fish – we’ve got ourselves a party….let’s go.”

It’d never happen.


Tuesday 28th September, 2004.

The Wrong Trousers




Okay just got back from the tailors having picked up my new clothes with mixed results.

The shirts are fine. I like the shirts. They are generously and almost fashionably collared. In addition they are nice and long and roomy with it. All in all they look like the kind of tailoring your New Jersey gangster would go for. Nothing wrong with that. Although they do look like they should be worn with a chunky gold bracelet, a few sovs and the final accessory of a nice big cigar.

But, on balance, pretty good.

But then there is the trousers. I made the mistake of wearing big baggy combat trousers to the tailors and basically they have copied the style for the new trousers when I was hoping for some a little more formal.

In addition, while I managed to communicate that I didn’t want the pocket on the knee, the pockets on the backside are of the combat trouser type – kind of chunky with a flap.

But again it’s quite an individual touch – a bit odd maybe but not altogether bad.

But they just feel too baggy. The crotch is too low, the legs too wide. The waist is a little too big also.

When I pointed this out to the tailor she mimed eating and drinking at me. As if to suggest that overly loose trousers could easily be remedied by a few pies. Fine except I have spent the last days paying rather frequent trips to the toilet and my clothes are getting looser not tighter.

And besides, that’s kind of missing the point of tailored gear. Isn’t it?

She shortened the trousers for me but I eventually gave up trying to talk her into slimming them down. I’ve just stuck them in the wash – we’ll see what they look like afterwards.

I have a feeling that the trousers will never see the light of day. But I’ll wear them around the house a bit first and see if I start to feel more comfortable in them.

If I could just get one pair of trousers that are just right then I could use these as the template for all future tailoring. Maybe I’ll take pictures with me next time.

So again, it’s a learning experience and at about £5 per pair of trousers I can live with the occasional tailoring disaster. As far as the shirts go, I’m tempted to get experimental. Maybe I could pick up some wilder material next time.

I haven’t cracked this tailoring thing yet but more experiments could prove to be fun.


Sunday 26th November, 2004.

A Home from Home




Just back from my home stay - an essential part of our in-country training.

Basically, as you can probably guess, we get to stay, individually, with a local host to see for ourselves the life of an ordinary Vietnamese family.

As it turned out my host had recently damaged her foot so showing me the sights on her motorbike was out. In fact, this meant that family life was exactly what I got rather than just a tour guide.

Mum, an ex VSO-employee, was my main translator, Dad works in local television. He spoke French but not English so we communicated in occasional Francais.

The teenage son was away half of the weekend. Vietnamese pupils attend school on Saturdays and Sundays too. His English was very good and we chatted about the English Premiership and our joint dislike of Manchester United. Mum confided in me that she would like to send him to University in England but a single year would cost tens of thousands of dollars and would necessitate selling the house.

We also chatted about Iraq, the UK and the USA. I got my apology in early. As you can imagine my host’s empathy with Iraq is strong. She told me about the times she had been evacuated from Hanoi during the American war and therefore escaped injury. Other relatives had not been so lucky.

Virtually housebound as we were, the highlight of my stay was a short limp down the road to a neighbour’s house who had prepared a special lunch in my honour.

The food was tremendous. Flakes were scraped from a large roasted fish and rolled in rice paper alongside cold noodles, fruit and a mix of herbs. Meanwhile, still wriggling king prawns were dropped in a bubbling broth and served up minutes later all fresh and pink.

The neighbour also insisted I join him in a couple of Carlsbergs which was very good of him. Soon I was feeling full of food and heady from a mixture of the heat, hot soup and the beer.

Incidentally this entire feast was spread out in the middle of their dining room – on the floor. It lead to a very convivial atmosphere as we shared and passed each other food. Only trouble was, after three hours on the hard marble I was in agony. I was also very wary of the local custom of not showing the soles of your feet to anyone. As if sitting cross legged isn’t bone crunching enough. Sitting on the floor while hiding the base of your feet takes years of yoga training.

Another point of etiquette. Just as I was approaching being very full indeed I noticed a cockroach crawl out from under the rice cooker. It was right in front of me. What does one do in that situation? Shriek and point it out? Too wussy I thought. Ignore it and then feign surprise when it pops up in front of the host? Maybe a cockroach in the middle of a lunch spread shouldn’t even be acknowledged at all.

Anyway I ignored it for a while. I watched it chomp its way through the overhang from the salad bowl. I preyed it wouldn’t crawl over to me so that I would be forced to make a decision.

Eventually, as the women started to clear away the food, the rice cooker, where it was once more sheltering, was shifted and there it was. Without blinking my host picked up a napkin, gripped it by its back, and slammed it down on the floor and wiped it away. All achieved in one swift motion. Problem solved.

Incidentally the neighbours’ kids didn’t join us in our feast. The chubby son (introduced to me with a “He’s big yes? Maybe he will be as big as you,” thanks again) didn’t like the food on offer, neither did his sister. For lunch they had jam butties and chocolate biscuits. More evidence of western influence.

More could be seen (thankfully) with the wall-to-wall coverage of the Premiership. I got up early Sunday morning (5.30am) to watch the re-run of the Newcastle/West Brom game.

Football viewing made it seem very like a Sunday back home. The feeling was further boosted with a chicken and roasties for lunch.

Later, other satellite cultural fayre was brought to us via the Cartoon Network. My host’s youngest seemed to have learnt her English from Tom and Jerry and Popeye.

Her favourite toy was a realistic looking rubber mouse (Baby Mouse) which she would dress up from time to time. Like all kids over here she had an infectious laugh and I played mouse games with her, pretending to be scared by it or miming eating it – all to shrieks of laughter.

All too soon the weekend was over and the husband dropped me off on his scooter back at Pho Vong.

I’m not entirely sure what to make of the experience. No major surprises only further evidence that the cultural gap between east and west is closing.

But there were some subtle differences. When school schedules allowed, the family did seem to spend more time together than their western counterparts. Meal times were also very much a family event – albeit with the living room TV swung around so it could be viewed from the kitchen table.

I now start my last two weeks of In Country Training before I go to work. I should really be savouring the relative calm but I’m still eager to get to work at KOTO.

PS Slightly concerned. There’s a trail of ants leading to a USB port on my laptop. I have a feeling that my back home habit of eating lunch while using my computer has left a legacy of crumbs under my keyboard. Hopefully no serious damage will be caused. I’m hoping they’ll just clean up for me.

PPS The flowers are from the tree outside my balcony here in Pho Vong.




Thursday 23rd September, 2004.

When Vietnam Smiles




To quote Ice Cube: “Today was a good day.”

I changed my morning routine a little. I visited the bread stall this morning and rather than taking it back to my host home, I took my fried egg butty with me to the coffee shop.

I did my homework as I sipped an iced coffee – made just the way I like it. Freshly filtered coffee, over ice, added sweet milk and a little extra water. Between the milk and the caffeine it puts a spring in your step. It was all ordered in Vietnamese too.

There were brief problems when I wanted to order another. Eventually I got around it by saying “mot” (one) pointing to my coffee and “hai” (two) pointing to the kitchen. After a little confusion my waiter got the point. He grinned as the penny dropped.

His English is as good as my Vietnamese. But we have kind of started to teach each other. He says numbers in English, I repeat them in Vietnamese then we congratulate each other.

And trust me a smile from the Vietnamese can make your whole day.

Another smile came from a lady I bought water from on the way back from lunch. She spoke slowly to me and I understood and answered. And then there was that smile again.

Some days you get no smiles. Yesterday was full of moody moto drivers and dodgy cloth merchants. Today everyone is smiling.

In addition, today our female host took us for language lessons for the first time.

I don’t want to sound smug here but I will be….

She told me later that my accent and pronunciation was the best.

Even the lesson was fun today.

She has certainly looked after us well. From dealing with errant cloth merchants to booking tickets on our behalf for something that looks like a Vietnamese version of a rave.

I think she also senses my discomfort with the language and tries to test me all I can to prompt me into speaking. Perhaps praising me on my pronunciation was just her way of giving me a boost.

So as a result of all of this I am reminded that I am still living the dream. I am living and working in Vietnam.

And sitting having breakfast and watching the world go by this morning, with my coffee, I too caught the infectious smile.

I think, for a while back there I forgot to smile. And everything works better with a smile here. Perhaps that’s why I had a bad day.