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Trip Start Jul 27, 2007 Previous
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  Quang Ngai, Vietnam
Friday, September 21, 2007

The Vietnamese-army-made-me-buy-two-dresses Story

I arrived in Hoi An on Friday night, all alone as the other volunteers had gone to Da Nang for a 'Family Guy' marathon. Downherated? Not me, I had a Western style dinner of Pasta with pesto and geared myself up for SCUBA diving the following day. Got up at 6:30am and hopped on a bike out to the beach, very excited about the prospect of seeing actual fish in the actual sea. Only to be told that the dive was cancelled because the Vietnamese army were doing emergency drills in the bay. The Japanese dive boat had gone out, the Vietnamese pleasure boat had gone out but the English speaking dive boat was marooned until further notice. I toyed with the idea of doing a cookery class, only to be told that although you can eat vegetarian food at the end of it, they only teach you how to cook fish. Not terribly useful to me in my daily life so I wandered round Hoi An. "Don't spend any unnecessary money"  I thought to myself. I am sleeping in a room with a rat and no air con to save $4 a night (approx 2 pounds) so don't start wasting it elsewhere.

You know there's not a whole heap to do in Hoi An. There are a lot of tailors shops. As you walk round you find yourself wondering, "I think I'd suit that dress but in another colour" "I wanted a skirt like that one when they were in Next but held back cause I was saving for my plane ticket..." "Maybe I'll just go in and ask how much it costs so I have a good idea for bargaining if I ever do want one..."

I am now the proud owner of one black dress with handstitched embroidery round the collar (I'm currently wearing it) and one highly impractical blue chiffron dress I will never wear while travelling but will be nice for all the weddings I'm going to next summer. Total about 30 pounds I hadn't intended on spending. And it's all the Vietnamese army's fault. Damn them.

but my dresses are very pretty :-)

The SCUBA diving Story part I

This one is quite short but as I've been whittering on about SCUBA diving for a while, I thought I should put it in here. I got in the boat on Sunday and went out to sea! I met some people from Quang Ngai, bizarrely. They both work at the Industrial Zone just out of town building an oil refinary and one of them knows a couple of South Americans who will pay us for English lessons- we're quite busy but every little helps,as they say, so I might do it.

Once in the sea, I floated up and down- quite a bit more than you're meant to actually.  Apparently this is noramal and I shouldn't worry. The first dive I souldn't see much and was concentrating on controlling my buoyancy the whole time. The second dive I got to see all kinds of fish, coral and rather loveable fat sea cucumbers, rolling aorund on the sea bed. Yay for me and the SCUBA!

The long-distance-bus story, part I
(aka the public toilet story)

I got a lift back to the highway with a friendly motorbike man who insisted on staying with me to help me onto the bus. He rejected the local bus going to Quang Ngai as it was too full and instead put me on a long distance bus to Sai Gon and negotiated me a fare of 40, 000 dong, or 10, 000 more than I usually pay to drop me off on the highway near Quang Ngai. As it's less than a bus fare to the centre of Cambridge I didn't protest too hard, although when the conductor tried to charge me an extra 10,000 for the privaledge of sitting on a seat I laughed (nicely) and handed over 40, 000. He gave me a 'can't blame a guy for trying smile' and we set off.

About half way through the 2 hr journey, just as I was thinking longingly of home we stopped outside a large dining hall and everyone got off. I tried showing my phrasebook on the page 'how long do we stop here for?' but the woman next to me couldn't read without her glasses (I think that's what the gesture meant) so I just waited for everyone else to get off (to ensure it wasn't just a really popular bus stop) and followed them, vowing to sit very near the bus so I a) remembered which one I was on and b) didn't get left behind when it left (this actually happened to me when I was on a coach to Poland and I didn't want to risk it again). I decided it would be safe to go to the toilet quickly, so armed with my trusty phrasebook went and asked a random woman, who may or may not have worked there. She made a vague gesture to the back wall.

I wandered in through a gap to find a large area where both men and women were scooping copious amounts of water out of huge brick troughs and swilling it over their feet. "Odd" I thought to myself. "I guess they're all very dusty" I was about to leave and simply hold on for another hour (I have good pelvic floor control from a year or so of pilates) when a girl asked "Toilet?" and point to a small contstruction at the back of the room.

I entered.

I found myself in a room made of 4 pieces of plasterboard, about the size of an average bathroom. It had a sloping tiled floor and a gutter running along the bottom of the slope.

It contained nothing else.

I tried to balance myself over the gutter (not so easy for girls) but found the only way was to rely on the slope doing its job. As I left three girls came in to use the 'facilities' which were obviously very communal.

Before I left I washed my feet with copious amounts of water.

After an hour sitting outside the bus, we set off and I arrived home for a very thorough shower.

The Happily/Unhappily Story

This story is written in the form of the game where every sentence begins with 'happily' or 'unhappily' because that's how my life felt on Wednesday.
To set the scene:
I was teaching my first English lesson at Ngia Hanh when Mr Viet (the programme director) turns up and started taking photos.

Happily he has come to take Xuan to Da Nang. If you read my previous entry 'Fundraising for Ngia Hanh' you'll know that Xuan is one of the disabled children there. He was perfectly healthy until his 12th birthday when he got sick (we're not sure what with) Ever since then he has been unable to walk or talk and has limited control over his arms and legs. He can sit unaided but only for very short periods of time as he tires quickly. He has also suffered intellectually but is a lovely smiley boy. His brother, a very intelligent eager boy, missed out on the extra English classes over the summer as he had to stay in the disabled room and look after Xuan. Mr Viet was taking him to Da Nang to take himn to the hospital for initial assessment. He is going to be hospitalised from mid October for an operation and Physio that will (hopefully) mean he can walk again (this will cost around 1,000 pounds, if you would like to make a donation, you know how!) I was so pleased to see such a concrete improvement being made as a result of GVN's involvement with the centre. Probably the best news I've had since I've arrived.

Unhappily Mr Tuan, our interpreter has to drop everything and go to Da Nang with the family for support. This means we will be going to the orphanage alone this afternoon.

Happily we do not consider this a problem. We take along 'Bubble Tea' to try and get the older girls involved in something (they are not too into lego!) and it works. We have a huge block of ice which Ty (the 4 yr old) has great fun hacking to bits and we put it in cups with fun straws and flavoured instant tea, which is probably full of sugar and really bad for the children.

They love it and Phung, one of the disabled girls, has great fun mixing a lurid green apple flavour with a technicolor pink strawberry flavour until it looks like a cartoon representation of nuclear waste. The kind of thing that put the Mutant into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Unhappily at that moment Big Phuoc hoves into view. Big Phouc (so called to distinguish him from Little Phuc!) is probably Autistic. He has trouble interacting with the other children and has taken to hurting them so that we pick him up and move him away, which he thinks is great fun. He has been getting worse in previous days and I quickly head him off.

Happily he loves going for walks and we trawl around the orphanage gardens for a while. He holds his arms out to be picked up and I spin him round til we're both dizzy making lots of encouraging noises to show him how nice it is to be picked up and played with instead of to stop him attacking people.

We get to the minibus and spend a good half hour walking round and round it, tapping the sides (he loves tapping and stroking flat, smooth surfaces). He starts interacting a little with me, lifting my hand to tap the window, the bodywork or his hand. We get a little rhythm going where we tap three times each and I start to feel this is a big break through as normally he doesn't interact with other people at all. A nurse comes out and talks to him in Vietnamese- I have no idea what about but they are obviously fond of each other as she tickles his neck and he smiles and claps. I am thinking this is one of the best times I have spent with Big Phuoc.

Unhappily when I get back to the others I discover my wallet is empty. Earlier, when we were buying the bubble tea, I found I was missing 200, 000 dong (approx 6 pounds) but thought I must have dropped it. I am now missing a further 100, 000 plus almost all my small change. I am particularly annoyed about this as I have been saving it all to hand out to the kids at the Mid Autumn festival. We ask around but no-one knows anything. There is one boy who has been suspiciously hanging round my bag all week but he is nowhere to be found.

I try and remember if he is the boy who was caught trying to escape from the orphanage in July and wonder if he is, even now, at Quang Ngai bus station, buying a ticket to Saigon

Unhappily (again) we have no Mr Tuan and Miss Yung, the only member of staff who speaks English has gone home.

Happily she turns up!

Unhappily this does not help us find the money in any way, shape or form. Miss Yung is very worried I am angry and apologises profusely.

Happily I am not too worried about it and reasssure her. We decide to go home and turn round to find that...

...Unhappily 2 of our bikes have now disappeared.

Happily we think this is very funny. The kids are stealing everything today!
Miss Yung explains that the children have take the bikes in order to scour the town for Du, the suspected culprit. I wonder if there is a mass break out planned and they are going to bike to Saigon and then buy a ticket to Cambodia....

Unhappily we remember we are supposed to be meeting a friend at the house, and are now very late. George is dying for a cigarette after all the drama so she cycles home on our one remaining bike while me and Jess hang around to find...

...Happily the younger Primary aged children are now coming home so we get to see them for the first time in about 3 weeks. They all smile and come over for hugs and vaguely mimed conversations.

Unhappily when Du (and our bikes) return we are no closer to finding my money. We go home.

Generally though the day was very very happy. I am really pleased about Xuan and that I have spent a nice afternoon with Big Phuoc as it was getting to the stage when I felt so demoralised about all the hitting. The money turned up (and Du was the culprit which made me feel less guilty about everyone hounding him!) and he handed it over with a rehearsed "I'm sorry" and I told him it was OK. As we say in Vietnam 'Khong Sao' (no worries)

The Long Distance Bus Story part II 

 Thursday Night I set off to Hoi An for the final part of my SCUBA diving course! The bus was another long distance one, which had an amenity I have never seen before on a Vietnamese bus- A first aid kit. "What a brilliant idea" I think, indoctrinated by years of risk assessment and filling school trips with first aid kits, sick buckets and spare pants.

It is in a glass fronted box, at just the right height for my knee to slam into should we break suddenly in an emergency situation, but nonetheless a reassuring indication that our safety is of paramount importance to the bus company.

About an hour into the journey the conductor opens it- it contains a remote control and a packet of cigarettes... I love Vietnam!

There is also entertainment on the bus (very rare). They are showing dvds of Vietnamese opera. It seems to be about a member of the cast of Charmed, an aging boy band reject and a young boy with stubble painted on his face (I'm not sure if this is part of the plot). They are overcoming family trauma through the power of song. I wonder if this is the Vietnamese answer to an ASBO...

I am having the normal friendly conversation with the conductor who, having established I'm unmarried, is trying to set me up with other passengers. Then he gives me a very hard, roundish fruit called, amusingly enough, 'Coc.' It is not easy to eat and after gesturing several times I establish I am supposed to dig into it with my teeth. Everyone in the bus is finding it very funny. After about 5 attempts I manage to bite a bit off and chew it. Hard and a bit sour but not unpleasant. By now the whole bus is in stitches. "OK?" asks the giggling conductor. "OK" I reply levering another chunk off and swallowing it down. They let me continue like this for a few bits before showing me amid many giggles that you are supposed to peel it with your teeth and then eat the inside. At least I am keeping everyone entertained...

The moth story

Having got off the bus, I jump on a motorbike and ride the extra 20 mins it takes to get to the centre of Hoi An. I am admiring the night views and all the bugs whirling past until about a third of the way there when a moth flies in my ear. "Hmmm" I think, "That's loud. I'm sure it will fly out again soon."
It doesn't.
Plan A: I turn my head away from the oncoming breeze to giev the moth plenty of opportunity to fly out.
It doesn't.
Plan B: I am starting to panic so I ask the motorbike man to stop and pass him my torch. I make wild gestures towards my ear and flap my arms up and down to try and convey the message that there is a moth in my ear. He looks but says "No, No, No" I try and explain that there is definitely something in there as I can hear it but he just shrugs so we get back on the bike and I assume that it will fly out in the next 15 mins or so.
Plan C: I remember that moths fly towards light (although this one is obviously not to good at identifiying the difference between the moon and my ear canal) so I try and angle my head towards all the upcoming street lamps in the hope it will 'see the light' and fly out.
It doesn't.
(It's about this time, I remember that you can't dive with any kind of ear problem because of equalising the pressure and worry that this might apply to moths.)
Plan D: I get off the bike and pay the man. I am now almost crying as the noise is unrelenting and the sensation of wings against my ear drum is making me feel sick. I run into the hotel foyer and pounce on the first people I see, asking "Do you speak English?" Afterwards the guy told me he thought I'd been attacked and was all set to dash outside and accost a mugger, when I wailed "There's a moth in my ear!" They have a look but can't find it either. Fortunately they have some tweezers upstairs which leads to ...
Plan E: Plan E involves going to a total stranger's bedroom and letting them root around in your ear with tweezers. They say it's very deep and they see anything, and are frightened of hurting me or damaging my ear drum. Luckily the guy then thinks of...
Plan F: flooding my ear with water to try and drown the moth and wash it out. I am worried the shower might be too powerful so he picks up a hose attachment in the bathroom and gently hoses my head. "I don't know why we don't have these in England" He says, "They're so handy for washing your feet." I consider explaining that they are the Asian alternative to toilet paper and are used in a bidet-capacity but as the water is currently running out of my beleagured ear and down my face, it seems better not to dwell on it.
The moth is definitely somewhat shocked by the water and stops fluttering which calms me down quite a lot.
It doesn't wash out.
Around this time, we think we should formally introduce ourselves. Apparently Sarah and Steve have just arrived in Hoi An, 7 weeks into a 9 month trip. We are all very British and pleased to meet each other. At this point the moth gives a little exploratory flutter, drawing my attention to the job in hand.
We try Plan G which is my trying to fish it our with tweezers on the grounds I will know if I am damaging my ear drum 'cause it will hurt and Plan H which is really just Sarah shining a torch in my ear, cause she thinks Plan C was quite logical.
Moth stays put.
We come up with Plan H which is for me to submerge my head in water until the moth gradually drowns. I go downstairs and book myself into the hotel, making sure I get a room with a bath.
Then I trot out to the shop for Plan I- earbuds (I know you're not supposed to but the situation is becoming desparate).
Neither of these work.

While I'm lying in the bath I think it might be a good time to check with the Dive Centre about moth-ear diving rules, before they all go home. My Instructor is very sympathetic about the whole thing and only laughs a little. She isn't quite sure about the PADI guidelines for moth diving but she says if I can equalise and I can hear it's probably OK. She does suggest I call the doctor as the moth seems fairly well entrenched. I tell her I had just come to that conclusion and ask her for a phone number of a local doctor.
All in all it's the perfect time for my phone to run out of credit.

Plan J: I get dressed (remember, I have just been in the bath) and trot downstairs flicking through my guidebook to find the word 'moth.' It's not in there. Neither is insect, which I consider is quite an oversight. I explain to the desk clerk that there is an 'animal' in my ear while making vague flappy, wing type movements with my hands. He is very nice and calls the doctor.
The doctor arrives in about 10 minutes time. He looks into my ear and solemnly declares the moth is 'very deep' "Will it come out?" I waver. I have begun to think it will be stuck there for years, eventually shooting out mummified in ear wax after a particularly expressive sneeze. "Yes, yes" He replies. "We use syringe." He sends me into the bathroom and follows with a large syringe, a bottle of refrigerated water and a pair of scissors. I am more than a little relived to discover the scissors are for cutting open the bottle so the really big syringe will fit inside. He shoots the freezing cold water into my ear and out pops a tiny white moth, valiently beating it's tiny wings. He shows me briefly then flushes it down the toilet.

I am a little sad about this. I feel as though me and the moth have been through a difficult hour together, both working towards the same elusive goal of getting him out of my ear. Now we have finally managed it and he is unceremoniously flushed away before I even have a chance to take a photo for posterity.

The doctor peers in my ear. "Wax" he announces, "Maybe the moth has brought in some bacteria." He proceeds to flush several more syringes of water into my ear until I feel so dizzy I almost fall off the edge of the bath. He helps me to the bed where he takes my pulse and blood pressure. "Very Good blood pressure" he tells me; whether this is generally good or just good for someone who has had a moth in their ear for the last hour, I'm not sure, but I feel justifiably proud.

Then we get to the price, which comes to 30, 000 dong more than I have in my wallet. "I call hpspital" says the doctor, "You come here to help our country- I get you good price." I end up paying 530, 000 dong (approx 16 pounds) for  half an hour's medical treatment and a week's supply of antibiotic ear drops. I love the fact that in Viet Nam, even medical services are open to bargaining.

[the afternote of this story is that the following day I bumped into the couple who had helped me with the tweezers, and they didn't even recognise me. Honestly! I thought I would have made more of an impression.]

SCUBA Story part II

Again, a short one, just to say I have finally qualified! We got out but weather was bad and the visibility only 3 m. At one point I lost control of my buoyancy (spatial dynamics have never been my thing) and by the time I sunk back down again everyone had moved on more than three metres- I was all alone in the deep blue ocean. Remembering all I had learnt I swam for one minute and then returned slowly to the surface and reunited with everyone.  I am very proud that this week I have weathered my first medical situation and a SCUBA related crisis. I think this bodes well for my travels Alone in the Big Wide World.

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