When I visit a town, I love going to the market- or farmers’ market as you might call it. It is always a frantic area to explore with new sights and strong odors.
In Hoi An, I unfortunately missed the early tidal wave of conical hats getting off to the fish market at five o’clock in the morning. But I smelled freshly picked aromatic herbs, looked at yellow rice noodles used for traditionnal dish ”Cao lau,” and ate delicious shrimp dumplings poetically named ”white rose”.
Freshly picked aromatic herbs.
Vietnamese brooms and baskets.
The fish market of Hoi An.
Making sugar cane juice: ''nuoc mia.'' Yummy!
Drinking nuoc mia.
Hoi An.
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LE MARCHE AUX POISSONS DE HOI AN
En terre inconnue, j’aime toujours me balader du côté du marché. Il y a une frénésie indescriptible de couleurs, d’odeurs, de visions nouvelles.
A Hoi An, j’ai malheureusement manqué de peu la marée de chapeau conique arrivant au marché aux poissons à cinq heures du matin. Mais j’ai humé les herbes aromatiques fraîchement cueillies, regardé les nouilles de riz jaune utilisées pour le plat traditionnel ”cao lau”, et dégusté des raviolis à la crevette portant le poétique nom de ”rose blanche”.
Send an email to Laurene, the author of this post, at laurene@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
During my Têt holidays, I decided to visit the center region of Vietnam. I had an amazing time.
I left Saigon on a sleeping bus.During the 22 hour long journey to Hoi An I met Yuliya, from Belarus and Sam, from Australia. We got along very well and decided to visit Hoi An together.
Many Vietnamese women are fascinated with my ”yellow hair” and ”white skin,” as they say.
Like this old woman at the bus stop, who kept staring at me. She mumbled something in Vietnamese. I shrugged, to tell her that I didn’t understand what she was saying. Then, the woman sitting next to me said. ”She say you are beautiful.”
The Vietnamese eat rice in so many different forms, it truly is amazing: fried rice, steamed rice, rice noodles, rice vermicelli, rice paper, fried rice flour, sticky rice, rice cakes, rice soup, rice pancakes, rice doughnuts… I’ve even found a place that makes young rice ice-cream!
Consequently, they cook rice in different ways. One method consists of spreading rice that’s already been cooked on a newspaper and let it dry outside on a roof or on the ground, under the sunlight.
Jen, Kris and Serene are gone, but I’m not! I’ve decided to stay in Vietnam one more month to work and put as much money aside as possible before … Ecuador!!!!
Si Jen, Kris et Serene sont parties, moi je suis toujours à Saigon! J’ai décidé de prolonger mon séjour d’un mois pour travailler et mettre autant d’argent de côté que possible avant … l’Equateur!!!!
Send an email to Laurene, the author of this post, at laurene@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
While roaming the streets of Saigon, I saw a huge billboard showing soccer superstar Cristiano Ronaldo promoting motor oil.
What I had never noticed was the big advertisement above the entrance of Ben Thanh market: Frédéric Belaubre for Adidas. And please tell me, who is Frédéric Belaubre?
He is a FRENCH triathlete!
For the past month in Saigon I’ve sweated buckets. The weather is changing, I can feel it. It’s so hot! The weather forecast says temperatures go up to 35°C but it feels like it’s so much more. And it’s not even the rainy season yet, when humidity makes everything so much worse.
I can hardly bear it. One evening I went to the aerobics class in the park and I really thought I was going to pass out. March and April are supposed to be the hottest months in southern Vietnam, but here too climate change is a reality. Or so it seems.
New Year’s Eve didn’t start so well. I had a very difficult time finding a hotel room in Dalat as everything had been booked months before due to the flower festival Dalat was hosting. It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to stay in Dalat as long as I had planned. Over lunch, I asked my waitress for some tips. Ngan said there was no hope to find a room as Dalat would be crowded with Vietnamese tourists over the next few days.
Despite this bad piece of news we became friends and decided to spend New Year’s Eve together.
Her younger sister, Phuong, and her aunt, Hong- a baker- joined us too. We had a night stroll hoping we would see fireworks, but there were none.
At 10.00pm Ngan had to go back to her five month old baby. That’s when Hong told me she used to go to a French high school in Dalat. She doesn’t speak much French anymore but somehow, she remembers the 1960s songs she used to listen. So here we are, in a café on New Year’s Eve, singing old tunes like France Gall’s ”Poupée de cire, poupée de son” and Françoise Hardy’s ”Tous les garçons et les filles de mon âge.” Unforgettable!
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