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!
On the Paris subway, there’s almost always someone playing the accordion or selling a few poems. I hadn’t seen this happening in Ho Chi Minh City until a few days ago. As Yen and I were going to Củ Chi, a salesman got on the bus and tried to sell a couple things. And his speech lasted quite a while…
A bord du métro parisien, il y a presque toujours quelqu’un pour jouer de l’accordéon ou vendre un carnet de poème. Je n’avais encore jamais vu cela à Ho Chi Minh Ville, jusqu’à il y a peu. Alors que Yen et moi nous rendions à Củ Chi, un marchand est monté dans le bus pour nous vendre quelques babioles. Et son discours était plutôt kilométrique…
Send an email to Laurene, the author of this post, at laurene@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
There are a few events that happen as we go that make me really feel like we’re in Asia. One of those things is when your bus dies. It’s not like at home where they’d send a new bus to pick up the passengers or have the bus repaired – they enlist the passengers to help out. Take a look for yourself:
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Most children of Ky Kuang orphanage were abandonned by their parents because they have a birth deffect. Some of them have body malformations, some are blind and others are mentally challenged.
Some of those children still are the victims of Agent orange a chemical weapon used during the Vietnam war with disastrous consequences on people’s health.
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La plupart des orphelins de Ky Kuang ont été abandonnés par leurs parents parce qu’ils étaient anormaux à la naissance. Certains ont une malformation physique, d’autres sont aveugles et d’autres encore ont un handicap mental.
Certains d’entre eux sont encore les victimes de l’agent orange, une arme chimique utilisée pendant la guerre du Viêtnam, et qui a eu des conséquences dramatiques sur la santé des populations locales.
Send an email to Laurene, the author of this post, at laurene@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
It’s happened three times now since our arrival in Saigon. It’s 6am, morning light is streaming in through the balcony door, and all of a sudden I’m awoken to the blaring sounds of drums and trumpets. ”What the hell is that?” I bark to my sleeping roommates. I get up just in time to see the end of a funeral procession going down our street. “Next time I’ll film it, because despite the ungodly hour, that was pretty cool”, I think to myself. But when next time comes, it’s 6am once again and I can’t wake up and grab the camera fast enough. “FUCK!” I scream in exasperation. But the third time is a charm. I hear the first notes of that band (which I swear fires the music up directly in front of where we live) and I’m up in a flash. Pants? Not worried about them. Because I’ve finally got a shot of a funeral procession making its way down Bui Vien!
Vietnamese funerals are much different than your traditional North American ones. Relatives, friends, and descendants take part in the funeral procession to accompany the dead along the way to the burial ground. Votive papers are dropped along the way. Selected members, usually the youngest direct descendants, carry either incense, flowers, or the picture of the Buddha.
Send an email to Kris, the author of this post, at kris@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
Even in a city as bustling and exciting as Saigon, after a couple months of living here you can still find yourself wondering what to do for entertainment. The other night we were in this situation, and I remembered reading that Saigon had a bowling alley. Of course, we were in.
Send an email to Kris, the author of this post, at kris@jetsetzero.tv or read more of their posts here.
While we peel, crush and slice vegetables, meat and shrimps, Miss Pham prepares the seasoning with noc mam (a popular Vietnamese fish sauce), soy sauce and homemade vinegar (made with wine, banana alcohol and mineral water).
Lam crushes peanuts for the salad garnish.
A few hours later, here we are, enjoying a fabulous hearty meal along with some fruit wine. Nobody knows which fruit(s) this wine is made of, but it’s very good. Only 4% Vol. of alcohol.
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