An everyday journey

Here I am reposting something from over a year ago. This piece will be published in an upcoming book called 'To Vietnam with Love', from the same people as 'To Asia With Love', due out 'early summer' 2008. I am not quite sure of the final edited version that will go to print, but I'll give you the closest I have.

It is also a handy way of making an entry for this months $100 prize on the blog competition over at Expat Advisory (see post below!). If you are a blog writer in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos or Korea, GET INVOLVED (but write something low quality so I can still win). The $100 prize would boost your monthly income by $100 for a month - not bad.

An Everyday Journey - II

I climb from my bed bleary eyed and trudge to the kitchen to gingerly sip on some hot green tea, prepared earlier by my wife (she’s always up earlier than me). If it’s one of those days when I was too lazy to do some morning exercise, then a few stretches have to suffice. I need to get cracking – don the work clothes, pick the least smelly pair of socks and splash my face with water. Grab the keys, money, and the godforsaken parking ticket – always losing it.

Down in the elevator and out into the parking garage. It’s cramped down here, likelihood is that my bike is buried behind three Hondas, each weighing as much as a baby elephant. It’s one of the worst things about living in these apartments that sit on top of a smelly canal which runs directly around the building. Fortunately, my pad is high enough to be above the whiff.

Sunglasses on. Helmet on. Out onto the street, immediately passing the countless array of coffee shops that smatter ground level around the huge apartment block. A few seconds later the full reality of the early morning traffic slaps me in the face as I join the flow. Straight into the routine: pull the throttle, glide, pull the throttle, glide, weave this way, weave that way. As soon as I’m moving, I’m stopped, firstly on the bridge just outside my residence. Some days, the water on the canal is so still I can see a perfect reflection of the small trees that line the bank. My drifting thoughts are abruptly shattered as the traffic groans forward with a monstrous communal roar. At this time in the morning, cream clad traffic cops override the signals, commanding red and green with the flick of a switch. Drivers wait on the starting line, suspiciously eyeing their imposing compatriots, waiting for the movement towards that magical gray switch box. And they’re off again -- but not at any particular pace.

Queuing at just another junction, it feels like I could be part of a Hollywood disaster movie. It’s like the whole of the city is trying to escape a doomsday event behind them, using the same road. Ugly green buses crammed with people line the street while noisy motorbikes supporting all manner of pillion swarm like an army of ants. Cyclists join the fray, and seem completely unaware of the lunacy around them as they wobble their way up onto the peddles. A droning crescendo signifies another gargantuan effort by the masses -- the process of inching closer to an unknown final destination is once again underway. The engines spew clouds of nasty chemicals into the air, clearly visible in drifting clouds. I hold my breath through the worst, for what good it does.

Down Hai Ba Trung, onto Nguyen Dinh Chieu. Not too bad this road, even in rush hour. I swing left onto Nam Khi Khoi Nghai. On occasion I share a nod with the boys at the motorcycle garage – sometimes, time permitting, I’ll grab an oil change and a bike wash here. Crossing over Nguyen Thi Minh Khai into District 1, the street leads down past the Reunification Palace. Traffic slows as people take time to gaze in through the gates. Some early morning tourists are wondering around in shorts, cameras hanging from necks. I’m catapulted back in time. How alien this morning chaos must seem to them, how normal it is now to me. Seeing them often returns that smell, that feeling, that taste of what it is to experience Vietnam for the first time. I can’t hold onto the nostalgia for long, I’m soon waiting to dash across the wide expanse that is Le Loi. On the street side, a breakfast noodle stand sits in front of a pastel yellow, rain worn wall. It’s the kind of scene common on postcards, but no time to dwell, must push on.

Eventually I break free from the shackles of the city center, passing the construction site of the city’s largest engineering project…maybe one day the tunnel under the river will really become true. At last, after twenty minutes, the Yamaha has a chance to stretch its legs. The bike turns onto Nguyen Tat Thanh. The sun has risen high and beams directly along the long stretch of this dangerous thoroughfare, reflecting off the asphalt. Heavy trucks sound their horns as they ruthlessly scream by. I pick up the speed, but not without caution, hunching over the handlebars keeping the kind of lookout that a circling hawk would be proud of. The world and his wife seem to participate in this frenzied up-and-down, from 40 foot juggernauts to 50cc machines carrying huge baskets of fruit; from the blue overalled, yellow helmeted construction workers on their Hondas to the slow moving labourers with their motorized wheelbarrows. The heat, dust and noise on this street doesn’t sit well – luckily it’s still a little cooler in the AM. To try this in the afternoon you may as well put yourself inside a tumble dryer on a hot wash, having rubbed detergent into your eyes before you climbed in.

I cross the bridge near the Tan Thuan Industrial Area, and motor along Nguyen Van Linh Parkway. Nearly there. Cruising to a halt at the junction outside FV hospital, I take the chance to lean on the handlebars. I watch the red light counter tick down from 30 as cars and bikes sail past me regardless. No matter, the final stretch of the journey – the last 25 minutes have been like wading through waist deep water, but now it’s like sprinting along a deserted beach, barely leaving a footprint. I take in the remaining green patches of land in this rapidly developing area whilst gulping down lungfuls of clean air as if I’ve just emerged from the desert and been handed an ice cold beaker of fresh lemonade. The light glints off the river which snakes away to the south through a landscape of tropical marshes.

The morning ride to work may only take around 30 minutes, but in that time I travel through the heart of a bustling city rush hour to it’s very edges where I can see the green countryside coming to meet sparkling, still vacant apartment blocks which now scatter HCM’s first true suburb – it’s a vision of the future yet come to pass.

Pathfinder

Pathfinder is a magazine published in Vietnam for expats and travallers. I find myself contributing to said magazine, and learning a trade that I am really quite enamoured with and would like to get to know better in the future. Here is a well lit and professional picture of said magazine.

Pathfinder is due for relaunch in the next few months. To continue the shameless plug and self publicity (hell what are blogs for, did I tell you about Connections?), I will link to some of my work on the Pathfinder website...

You'll recognize the pictures on Saigon Street Fare and Quan 94 from my previous entry right here (scroll down...). I'm also raving about La Hostaria on the site. Enjoy!

An Everyday Journey

A bleary eyed man climbs out of his bed, walks through to his kitchen, and gingerly sips on some hot green tea prepared earlier by his wife (she’s always up earlier than him, no matter how hard he tries). If it’s one of those days when he was too lazy to do some morning exercise, then a few stretches have to suffice. He needs to get cracking – don the work clothes, pick the least smelly pair of socks and splash his face with water. Grab the keys, money, and the godforsaken parking ticket – forgetting things when you live on the 16th floor and have two padlocks and a door to get through isn’t funny, he thinks.

Down in the elevator and out into the parking garage. It’s cramped down there, likelihood is that the bike is buried behind three Honda SH machines, each weighing as much as a baby elephant. It’s one of the worst things about living in these apartments, he thinks, on top of the smelly canal that separates District One and Binh Thanh and runs directly around the building. However, his pad is high enough to be above the whiff.

Sunglasses on. Helmet on. Out onto the street, immediately passing the countless array of coffee shops that smatter ground level around the huge apartment block. A few seconds later the full reality of the early morning traffic slaps his face as he joins the flow on Dinh Tien Hoang. Straight into the routine: pull the throttle, glide, pull the throttle, glide, weave this way, weave that way. As soon as he’s moving, he’s stopped, usually on the bridge just outside his residence. Some days, the water on the canal is so still he can see a perfect reflection of the small trees that line the bank. Drifting thoughts are abruptly shattered as the traffic groans forward with a monstrous communal roar. At this time in the morning, cream clad traffic cops override the signals, commanding red and green with the flick of a switch. Drivers wait on the starting line, suspiciously eyeing their imposing compatriots, waiting for the movement towards that magical grey switch box. And they’re off again -- but not at any particular pace.

In the queue at the junction of Vo Thi Sau and Hai Ba Trung, he feels like he could easily be part of a Hollywood disaster movie. It’s like the whole of the city is trying to escape a doomsday event behind them, using the same road. Ugly green buses crammed with people line the street while noisy motorbikes supporting all manner of pillion swarm like an army of ants. Cyclists join the fray, and seem completely unaware of the lunacy around them as they wobble their way up onto the peddles. A droning crescendo signifies another gargantuan effort by the masses -- the process of inching closer to an unknown final destination is once again underway. The engines spew clouds of nasty chemicals into the air, clearly visible in drifting clouds. He holds his breath through the worst ones, for what good it does.

Down Hai Ba Trung, onto Nguyen Dinh Chieu. Not too bad this road, even in rush hour. He swings left onto Nam Khi Khoi Nghai which will take him out of Q3, through the heart of Q1 and into Q4. On occasion he shares a nod with the boys at the motorcycle garage – sometimes, time permitting, he’ll grab an oil change and a bike wash here. Crossing over Nguyen Thi Minh Khai into District 1, the street leads down past the Independence Palace. Traffic slows as people take time to gaze in through the gates. Some early morning tourists are wondering around in shorts, cameras hanging from necks. He’s catapulted back in time. How alien this morning chaos must seem to them, how normal it is to him now. Seeing them often returns that smell, that feeling, that taste of what it is to experience Vietnam for the first time. He can’t hold onto the nostalgia for long, he’s soon waiting to dash across the wide expanse that is Le Loi. On the street side, a breakfast noodle stand sits in front of a pastel yellow, rain worn wall. It’s the kind of scene common on postcards he feels, but no time to dwell, must push on.

Eventually he breaks free from the shackles of the city centre, passing the construction site of the city’s largest engineering project on the way into D4…maybe one day the tunnel will make Ton Duc Thang a more enjoyable ride. He hopes so. At last, after twenty minutes, the Yamaha has a chance to stretch its legs. The bike turns onto Nguyen Tat Thanh. The sun has risen high and beams directly along the long stretch of this dangerous thoroughfare, reflecting off the asphalt. Heavy trucks sound their horns as they ruthlessly scream by. He picks up the speed, but not without caution, hunching over the handlebars keeping the kind of lookout that a circling hawk would be proud of. The world and his wife seem to participate in this frenzied up-and-down, from 40 foot juggernauts to 50cc machines carrying huge baskets of fruit; from the blue overalled, yellow helmeted construction workers on their Hondas to the slow moving labourers with their motorized wheelbarrows. The heat, dust and noise on this street doesn’t sit well with him – luckily it’s still a little cooler in the AM. To try this in the afternoon you may as well put yourself inside a tumble dryer on a hot wash, having rubbed detergent into your eyes before you climbed in.

He crosses the new bridge near the Tan Thuan Industrial Area, and motors along Nguyen Van Linh Parkway. Nearly there. Crusing to a halt at the junction outside FV hospital, he takes the chance to lean on the handlebars. He watches the red light counter tick down from 30 as cars and bikes sail past him regardless. No matter, the final stretch of the journey – the last 25 minutes have been like wading through waist deep water, but now its like sprinting along a deserted beach, barely leaving a footprint. The rider takes in the remaining green patches of land in this rapidly developing area whilst gulping down lungfuls of clean air as if he’s just emerged from the desert and been handed an ice cold beaker of fresh lemonade. The light glints off the river which snakes away to the south through a landscape of tropical marshes.

The morning ride to work may only take around 30 minutes, but in that time he travels through the heart of a bustling city rush hour to it’s very edges where he can see the green countryside coming to meet sparkling, still vacant apartment blocks which now scatter HCM’s first true suburb – it’s a vision of the future yet come to pass.

Writing for a living

I added more links to 'My Other Stuff' -- mainly my most recently published articles on Travelfish. Currently I am working on a guide to Saigon, including where to eat & drink, how to get here, how to get away from here, how to get around when you're here, what to do when you're here, accommodation listings and suggested itineraries. So on Sunday afternoon I visited 12 guesthouses in the Pham Ngu Lao area, picking up cards, chatting with staff, viewing rooms and jotting down notes. Here's my hot tip for the year -- try the deluxe room on the 11th floor at Anan hotel (it's on Bui Vien). It's $40 and it has an amazing view over Saigon.

Once all the sections are complete they'll be packaged into an e-guide, a downloadable pdf. I think individual sections will still appear on the site anyway, for example my Dong Khoi area 'Eats' section. Tell me what you think of it. Of course, it's hard to narrow it down, there are so many places to eat...so I just went with the places that I like, and hope that I have good taste.....! Also recently added was my feature story on Con Dao island which complements the listings I wrote earlier. See the feature here.

Chi & I head to Malaysia on Saturday -- some shopping and R&R in KL. Once I return it'll be on the road to write and update more listings. Firstly, Mui Ne and Phan Thiet, mixing business with pleasure as we'll spend New Year there also. Then, off to Dalat for at least a week to write listings from scratch. After that, Nha Trang, again from scratch. Should be a very busy, but very fun few weeks. So blog direction for a few weeks after Christmas will be veering away from HCMC and focusing on some of the attractive tourist destinations near here -- Mui Ne, Dalat and Nha Trang -- if I get time to post anything at all!