Postage and package included… sometimes.

Today a delivery receipt arrived on my desk at work that said a package had arrived for me at the local post office. I was absolutely ecstatic. The reason for my elation was not because my parcel of clothes which I had ordered from an online t-shirt had finally arrived (thanks for the new threads, Threadless). I was relieved because of the fact that the package had actually arrived. One of the main gripes expats who live here have is the inconsistent and incoherent postal system in Vietnam. Let me explain.

For a foreigner, the Vietnamese postal system is as strange and unfathomable as rocket science would be to a sixth grader, or the rules of cricket to a Vietnamese farmer (the term Kafkaesque springs to mind, with the impending sense of doom replaced by a sense of inevitable extortion). For all we know, there may be a hive full of little post elves somewhere behind closed doors in the Saigon Central Post Office. I imagine they sit on piles of unopened packages, wearing little Bưu điện uniforms, doing little jigs while licking stamps, making paper envelope airplanes, sorting the post, and deciding not when they want to deliver the letters and parcels, but if they should deliver it!  

See that little elf on that box? I rest my case.

(photo from kinhtenongthon.com.vn)

 

 

Too many times I’ve heard stories of people’s parcels mysteriously disappearing into the “postalsphere” (I’m sure those elves had something to do with it). Go onto one of the online expat forums like Phu My Hung Neighbours, and on any given day you’ll find complaints and concerns about letters, gifts and parcels not arriving. In my experience there are basically four scenarios when awaiting post in Vietnam. 

Scenario 1: Your post never arrives. This is a very possible reality so don’t be surprised when this happens. Like a lost love, don’t dwell on it. Forget about it and move on – life’s too short to worry about that Kit-Kat or Crunchie chocolate bar that went missing in the mail. 

Scenario 2: Your post arrives…sometime in the following year. This often happens. I think the people at the post office just keep your post, hoping that you will eventually give up on it or forget about it (or maybe it’s those mischievous elves again?). This is especially annoying if you’re expecting a package containing food or goods which expire. I once had my parents send me a package from South Africa containing all my favourite specialities – chocolates, boerewors and droewors, spices and condiments (Mr Balls Chutney and Ina Paarman’s Spices), and a bottle of good South African wine (Springfield Estate Wholeberry). It arrived months and months later (even though they had sent it express mail) and everything had expired and become inedible – even the dried meat. The only thing which was still good to consume was the wine, which had actually got better with time! 

Scenario 3: Your post arrives, but it’s been tampered with. This is the most likely option. Two years ago I sent myself a package from Australia containing clothes, English teaching materials and books and some other personal items. Eight months later, the package arrived, squashed, ripped open, then taped closed and torn open again, obviously having undergone a thorough inspection by the authorities. Everything was there…except for a few English teaching books. I was upset for a while, but at least I knew that there were some post office workers (or maybe a couple of post elves?) who are now speaking English fluently thanks to my “gift”.

Scenario 4. You post arrives, but it costs an arm and a leg to collect it. I once received a receipt from the post office to collect a package which cost me eight times more to pick up then the contents was worth! One thing I’ve learned is if you want to make sure that the post office doesn’t overcharge you, make sure the price of the goods is clearly displayed on the package. Also, don’t send anything dodgy (like English books) or god-forbid some exciting and foreign like a vuvuzela. A colleague at work just had to pay the equivalent of $600 for a care package sent from Korea as it had to undergo a “culture check” (I think that means the elves had a look to see if there was anything interesting they could eat or sell). 

Scenario 5. Your post arrives on time, in one piece, and unaltered. Don’t worry about scenario, as it is never likely to happen. 

"Not delivering your shit, since 1978"

These seem to be the general experiences most expats I’ve spoken to here have regarding the postal service. Many foreigners these days just ask their friends, family or others visiting from overseas to bring something with them on the airplane to avoid the hassle and heartache of dealing with the postal service. Of course, I understand that you can’t  expect things to be the same as it is back home – but sometimes you just have to complain to get it off your chest. And after all, what else can you do? Write a letter of complaint addressed to the post office, hoping they will receive it?  Yeah, right...

Originally written for Doanh Nhân Sài Gòn

The Value of Green Space

A few months months ago, before the incessant daily downpours had dampened my spirits like a dead fella dressed in red hanging limply from my chimney on Christmas morning, some mates and I decided to celebrate the sunshine by spending the day in the park. Said celebrations in South Africa or Australia usually include packing a mountain of food and beer in a cooler and spending the day on the grass or on the beach, barbecuing, drinking and kicking a footy or playing some pick-up cricket. Why then not do it the same way here in Saigon?

Luckily, we live in Phu My Hung which is dotted with parks (they make up nearly half of the overall area, according to the PMH Corporation). In great anticipation, we packed a killer picnic including a smorgasbord of snacks, meats for the braai, drinks and a footy to kick around. We lugged the barbie down and also had some music and speakers. Just as we had set up shop for the day, security guards told us that not only were we not allowed to have a barbeque, but we couldn’t have music and weren’t allowed on the grass! After some very unsuccessful negotiations, which resulted in a fleet of PMH security guards suddenly appearing from behind every tree and from every side street, we gave up the fight and trudged back to our small apartment where we had to celebrate this day of outdoor fun, indoors. What am I getting at here, you may ask? The severe lack of green space in Saigon. 

Let's get technical: "Green space" can be defined as a natural area of vegetation in or around a development to provide a buffer for noise, such as a recreational area or a wildlife haven, all intended to increase general quality of life in the area. All great cities in the world have at least one world-famous green space to lure tourists and families out of the shade of the skyscrapers on sunny days. Think about London’s Hyde Park, Albert Park in Melbourne (although the noise buffering doesn't work that well when the Formula 1 circus rolls into town) and perhaps the most famous of all – Central Park in New York. Parks are just one form of of green space. Greenbelts, greenways and other environmentally-orientated designs, such New York’s renowned High Line – a disused lifted railway that has been transformed into a wonder of a green space – are essential for maintaining the integrity of a developing city, ensuring the safety of certain natural areas and increasing the general quality of life for its citizens.

These kinds of green spaces are important for both adults and children. Parks, reserves and botanical gardens also create safe areas for children to play, away from traffic and other dangers, where they can partake in active and less sedentary activities at no cost. Turn your attention to the current "fun" areas for children in  Saigon: horror-show merry-go-rounds with ear-splitting techno, badly-maintained, creaky spinning sea-shells and elderly aunts who smell funny having a gas bag when they should be watching little Anh slipping out of the malfunctioning seatbelt on the Tornado.Let's not ignore the water-parks with their murky waters and concrete surfaces where wet little imps run around unsupervised. Compare these with a grassy embankment where kids can run around to their little hearts' content. It's incomparable really.

Although you often see early-morning exercisers in the parks in Ho Chi Minh City - mostly old timers engaged in a spot of tai-chi and calisthenics - and late afternoon badminton games happening, these all tend to congregate on the concrete footpaths around the actual park, bordering the busy streets, and not on the grass itself. It is important for older people to have somewhere to do their exercise and rest too, away from the frenetic whizzing of motorbikes and exhaust fumes, and with adequate and safe facilities.

Kicking back in Hoang Van Thu Public Park

Green spaces are essential for businesses in the city too, but their benefits are less tangible. According to a local publication, a report released by HCM City’s Department of Transport a few years ago said that over a decade (from 1998-2008), the city had lost about 50% of its green spaces to residential and commercial developments. This meant that citizens of the southern metropolis had less than one square metre of grass or vegetation per capita – significantly below the World Health Organisation’s minimum requirement of nine m² per person – and lower than much historically supercrowded cities like Tokyo (with three m²). One gets the impression that in those ten years, city planners have thought little about the long-term future of this great business centre, the health and well-being of its citizens, or developing sustainably. Instead, priority seems to go to expansion (with the new "urban centres" of Thu Thiem and Tay Bac), short term-profits, impressive, yet mysteriously half-empty high-rises and making a quick buck. Property firms also seem to be flouting the rules regarding mandatory green spaces in new developments with little or no punishment. 

By looking at the development of HCM City, one gets the feeling that the urban developers haven’t realised that in today’s environmentally conscious world, green spaces add commercial value to entire blocks, neighbourhoods and cities in various trickle down and knock-on effects. There are numerous examples around the world where green spaces have added value to properties. There is also tourism value, direct use value, community cohesion value, and the removal of air pollution and health value.

What is done is done, however, and I don’t see any buildings being demolished to create a botanical garden in this city, but one can take heed for the future. One solution is the implementation of strict regulations regarding new development and specifying the minimum amount of green space each project must include with strict punishment for those who flaunt the rules. Maximising space with underground parking and commercial facilities, vertical and rooftop gardens and parks, are also viable options. I know all of this is utopian, but its either that or a dystopian reality. Children (and adults) must be allowed to play on the grass, not only around it on concrete, and adequate facilities such as restrooms and lighting need to be built for safety. In a tropical country with such a wonderful sunny climate, there is so much opportunity to spend quality time outdoors with friends and family in a healthy and active way, but if nothing is done about this situation, I’m afraid this urban jungle will remain a concrete playground without a hint of its original state when the Khmer settled on the verdant banks of a wide and meandering river all those years ago.

Originally written for Doanh Nhân Sài Gòn

Sources consulted:  
British Forestry Commision
Official website of Columbia, Missouri 
Washington State Department of Community, Trade and Economic Development 
Sefton Council (UK)
Vietnam Business Forum 
VietnamNet
The Trust for Public Land 

 

Expat extremes

One of the defining characteristics of being an expatriate is the transient nature of your life. What I mean by this is that people are always coming – arriving for a new job on a short or long-term contract – or going – reaching the end of their stint in their temporarily adopted homeland. This has benefits in that you are constantly meeting new, interesting people who have left the comforts of their hometown and own country to experience the wonders of the bigger world and where every day brings a new challenge. Business contacts are made and built up, if that's your thing. This is especially true in Vietnam where “expect the unexpected” should be the official expatriate motto! On the other hand, this transitory lifestyle means that often just as you are getting to know someone and are becoming good friends, either you or them are leaving. It does prevent you sometimes from getting close to people as you often wonder "what's the point?". The life of an expat involves numerous farewell parties and teary send-offs, with promises of "I'll visit you here", or "Let's meet up there", made in earnestness but most often strewn by the wayside of life's busy, well-trodden road.

 In my six-years or so of living abroad - only a 2 or 3 on the expat-experi-o-meter - I’ve had both the ups and downs and have also noticed the very different labels stuck on and boxes people are neatly, but more often untidly stuffed in. This labeling is something I firmly don't believe in, but will attempt to provide my view on the spectrum of expatriatism in Vietnam of which I will try to show the two extremes.

Meet Arthur. On the one extreme , Arthur's the kind of expat the other kind is always joking about over a cheap beer on an even cheaper plastic chair. He’s the guy who lives in his expat bubble in his company-paid villa in Phu My Hung or compound in An Phu. Watching TV shows from home on his plasma flat screen, Arthur rarely leaves the comforts of his villa, and only ventures forth to walk his purebred husky. which he will have to try and sell or give away when his “stint in ‘Nam” is up - "because you, no Western country will receive a dog filled with heaven knows what third-world parasites".  This walk is filled with annoyances - the unbearable heat or incessant, "unpredictable" rain, and taxi driver's trying to hail his attention. If he runs out of milk, he doesn't wander down to the shop - he asks his live-in maid/cook what he pays her a three million VND a month for and sends her down to the shop and reminds her not to forget the receipts (because he has a sneaky suspicion she may be fudging the expenses and stealing from him, but he can't prove it yet)

Arthur has made no attempt to engage in the culture or learn the language, except for the few phrases (in completely the wrong tones) he uses to impress foreign visitors when he takes them for a "cultural tour" around Bến Thành Market or directs his driver to turn quẹo phải or quẹo trái, .   Arthur’s chauffeur drives him to work every day and he only knows a smattering of street names in District 1 like Lê Lợi or Đồng Khởi, as these are where his offices are. He may know where Bến Thành Market is, but ask Arthur where  Bà Chiểu or Dân Sinh markets are and he will stare at you blankly saying his driver will know so no there is no need to learn such insignificant details. Throw him in the middle of Gò Vấp or Tân Phú Districts without his driver, and he will have a nervous breakdown, trying to find a Mai Linh taxi as quick as possible (because the other companies all rip off foreigners, you know, and don't speak English, and besides, he has company a taxi card). 

Arthur has tried phở once or twice, but only at Pho 24 where it is clean, and the suggestion of trying it on the side of the street is just appalling to him. How unhygienic!  Buying a coffee off the street is the scariest. Do you know how or where that ice was made? Mostly, he only orders Western delivery or eats at high-end Western restaurants and occasionally tries Asian food when entertaining business guests, but only in immaculate, air-conditioned surroundings like the Khaisilk group of restaurants. When his one or two-year contract in Vietnam is up, he’ll have some fond memories – mostly of Chamber of Commerce cocktail parties, five-star resorts and good rounds of golf up and down the east coast. Arthur will not know much about the real Vietnam, the people, the culture, the language, but he will feel pleased for his experience in this “hardship post” that his company forced him into, and the kudos this stint would get him around the tie-and-jacket dinner party tables in Hong Kong or Dubai. 

On the other extreme is Jimmy; the expat who assimilates or goes as local as possible. He shares a small apartment or rents a room from a Vietnamese family in District 12 or District 10 for around $100 a month and complains that his rent is too high, and that he shouldn’t be asked “Western prices” because “he’s not a tây ba lô”. Jimmy sneers at foreigners who drive motorbikes that are fancier than a Honda Wave, as this is wasting money - showing off and rubbing their wealth in the poor's faces - and he often makes derogatory jokes about Western tourists himself. He eats at the local cơm bình dân daily for under a dollar, hanging out at a bia hơi, quán nhậu or a nearby coffeeshop with his local friends at the weekend and he feels a bit uncomfortable and alienated when he has to hang out with other foreigners, as "we have nothing in common". 

Of course, Jimmy speaks fluent Vietnamese, even knows how to nói lái and knows Vietnamese idioms, endlessly impressing his friends and other Vietnamese, when he busts out his Southern-accented slang. Jimmy knows the latest log standing of the V-league by heart and argues with his friend over whether Becamex Bình Dương can reclaim their former glory. He only shops at the local fresh market and detests driving into District 1. He prefers a weekend away in Vũng Tàu or Bến Tre, fishing, playing cards and drinking shots of rice wine with his girlfriend's uncles than spending too much money at a tourist resort in Mui Ne or a shopping holiday in Hoi An. Jimmy is always arguing with his Vietnamese girlfriend over where the best bowl of hủ tiếu Nam Vang or cháo lòng can be found, and loves the taste of all the things foreigners usually detest, like durian or mắm tôm. He knows all the Vietnamese musicians that are cool at the moment as well as the actors and actresses, and he watched some Korean soapies, but only during the week as he works all weekend at a local English centre.

Of course, these two fictional expats are the exaggerated extremes at both ends of life in Vietnam, and 99% of us are somewhere in between – mostly crowded around the 50% mark. Whatever the case may be, I think all of us can find some resonance in these characters and wherever expat life may take you, there will always be a Jimmy and an Arthur is some shape or form.

Originally written for Doanh Nhân Sài Gòn - March 2012

What's been going on in the 'Gon

We’ve been back in Saigon for three months and many people ask me what I think has changed in the year I’ve been away. So what’s been going on in the ‘Gon that wasn’t before?

Well, you could just as easily ask – what’s not going on anymore? A lot of restaurants and bars have moved or closed and new one’s have sprouted to try their hand at the slippery food and beverage industry. Take Thai Van Lung for example. I was slightly disappointed to see Alibi has evaporated, but also slightly happy to know that the smug faces of Olympique Saigon’s team photo won’t be smirking down at me from behind the bar every time I order a drink anymore. Bernie’s Bar & Grill seems to be the new kid on this ever-changing block, but some stalwarts like Skewers have weathered the stormy wave of change.

On the other side of District 1, the Old Market (Cho Cu) area is flourishing into the new hotspot. With rent prices soaring in traditionally more sough-after areas, this was inevitably going to happen, with Phatties tapping into this rich vein early. Although some establishments have already disappeared, La Cantina being one, the duet of Gringo’s and Mexican Lindo have jumped up to take their place on this stretch in the shadow of that gigantic joint in the sky; the Bitexco Tower (come on, does it really look like a lotus bud to anyone?!). Other notable newbies include the Drunken Duck and the garish X Club. God only knows what happens in there. I think it’s time for an covert assignment to uncover the social evils of Vietnamese nightclubs ala Current Affair or Carte Blanche – hidden camera in tow – and I’ll report back. 

 The Giant Joint

Of course, the rise of shopping centres would always be inevitable, but I must admit a certain shock at the speed with which certain structures have suddenly, as if overnight, established themselves with a certain authority, as if being long-standing historical members of the city, swathed in culture. Cases in point are the ostentatious Kumho Asiana Plaza and the Vincom Centre. When I left, there was but a massive hole in the ground, hidden by tropical fish-painted construction barriers and just down the road, a little park where all the Parkson staff used to soak up some rays over lunchtime. Fast forward one year and ta da! Hard Rock Café, the much-feted Carl Junior’s and other such nonsense have arisen like the Colossus at Rhodes. I have yet to bring myself to enter either of these Leviathans of commercialism. Oh and Eden Mall’s gone, and the Saigon Square has moved (again).

Around my neck of the concrete woods, the construction of the Crescent Mall in Phu My Hung is bustling along quite nicely, along with a throng of high-rise apartment blocks said to rival Seoul by early next century. Reminiscent of the Cold War arms race sans the hate, the glory of being named Saigon’s “next city centre” is certainly on between PMH and District 2. There’s also the pretty new Phu My Bridge that I have a beautiful night-view of from my apartment. In this dynamic, ever-changing city, one thing remains a constant: construction. A lot of, as my students so often utter. Oh and potholes. Let’s not forget them. 

 Cau Phu My

Other things I’ve noticed is a much-welcomed following of the road rules, in a certain Saigon sense, compared to before. I was at first unnerved by the motorbikes sticking religiously to the right lane whilst blissfully cruising down Nguyen Van Linh Boulevard, wondering whether they’ve implemented Orwellian brainwashing techniques to try prevent (I guess a better word would be ‘limit’) road chaos. Looking around nervously for a remote-activated, hovering eye-in-the-sky camera, I was disappointed to discover that a couple of uniformed Big Brothers spattered along the tree-lined boulevard were the only semblance of authority in sight. Given, last month was “Traffic Safety Month”, and six pairs of stone-faced, aviator-shaded beige-men did greet me every morning on the way to work, but was this the reason for the sudden adherence to the law? Well, September came in a deluge of water, and left in pretty-much the same manner, along with Traffic Safety Month. I woke up on October the first, quite positive (it being a Friday and all) that life in traffic would soon be as traumatic as ever, only to discover that all the bikes and cars were at it, slowly puttering along in their own lanes. Must be something in the water…

Other random things I’ve noticed. The Dong’s sliding oh so subtly toward the big 20 000. Maybe we should hold a big coming of age ceremony when it hits the landmark, but all the fireworks might just get too excited and explode pre-emptively like at the last big bash in Hanoi. The tendency towards the proliferation of yoghurt shops seems to have abated, only to be replaced with a new one in the form of deluxe, multi-storeyed ice-cream shops. Perhaps this worrying trend warrants a post on it’s own, co-authored by the World Health Organisation’s Chair for the Propogation of Child Obesity and Diabetes in South East-Asia.

Otherwise, most things haven’t changed much. Bikes. Dust. Culture. Stares. Rain. Smiles. Yummy food. Noise. Charm. Gloves and toe-socks. Internet censorship. Strange smells. Mystery meat. Apo and Go2. And bucketfuls of uniqueness…

The food, the glorious food!

To pick up where I left off on Friday’s post, there isn’t a single raison d'être for returning to Saigon, but rather the amalgamation of factors which I touched on. Yet, one item that is high up the list, peeking over the top edge with greedy little eyes is this country's gastronomic delights, in extreme plurality.

Despite being a self-confessed hedonist, okay, honestly more of a glutton than a bon vivant, I haven’t had time to revisit and resample all of the epicurean delicacies we so salivated over in Australia. Sarah and I would sit down, with a bucket tied under our chin and knotted behind our ears, which acted as a catchment area for our drool (remember Australia is in a serious long-term drought and any moisture whatsoever is as welcome there as it is on Frank Herbert’s Dune). We’d then remember all our old haunts and reminisce about our favourite dishes:

“Oh, do you remember the ca ri hai san at that com binh dan with the purple taro soup side?” *slabber slabber slobber* or “Beef and cheese, beef and cheese!” that coming excitably from me thinking about that delectable cholesterol bomb at Barbecue Garden, as I dribbled salubriously into my bucket. Memories rekindled and drool arunning, we’d go on for quite a while, before I stomachs would join the festivities, pounding at the door, asking to be fed in substance and not in spirit alone.

In the nine days that we’ve been here, I’ve managed to gulp down mounds of noodles in various forms: mi quang, hu tieu, mi xao and more pho than you can throw a rubber chicken, infused with cilantro and rubbed down with mint, at. I’ve eaten pho probably every day for breakfast, otherwise for a snack or lunch. I’ve got bean sprouts emerging from my nostrils like a newly seeded wheat field, beef brisket on the brain and broth sloshing around in my stomach like a LG top-loader on high. I’ve had goi cuon, bo kho, banh xeo, bo bit tet, com heo nuong and xiu mai, suon heo, soft-shell crab covered in what looked like green Rice Krispies, green mango salads, green papaya salads, freshly baked banh mi's and a steamy, fluffy banh bao filled with well, thap cam, a lot of interesting bits and pieces, some identifiable, some not. 

 There's a marinated rubber chicken submerged in there somewhere.

I haven’t even scratched the surface of what’s still to come. I’m watching and waiting in the dark, biding my time, sourcing out the best bun cha (my all-time fav) and pho Hanoi joints, like a serial killer stalking his prey…I think I need a bucket again, the dribble is making rivulets down my chest and pooling in my belly button.

Any recommendations as to your favourite Hanoi food spots in Saigon? I’d love to hear them.

Adios en lekker eet.

Flour Power

Bot Chien is a favourite pre- and post-class snack for Saigon’s school kids and you’ll nearly always find a vendor eagerly parked outside a school or language centre. I first discovered it when I was working at a school up in Tan Binh District about three years ago as I headed outside for a between-class ca phe da. I saw dozens of little backpacked, black heads clamouring around a single steaming cart, elbowing for space and right of way. My curiosity piqued, I went over, towering over the children to see a vendor furiously scrambling, tossing and adding ingredients to a boiling hot stovetop, colours and flavours flying and I decided right there I had to have it.

Bot Chien is basically fried rice flour (bot gao), mixed with a bit of normal flour, salt and water. When it firms up, it’s cut in lego-sized blocks and fried in a super hot pan. Nui, or macaroni, is added for that extra carb hit, tossed with chopped shallots and onions and an egg is cracked and swirled in to add some consistency and colour as well as to hold it all together. It’s served on top of shredded radish with chilli sauce (tuong ot) and soya sauce (nuoc tuong) for flavouring, and yes it needs a lot, but nothing a bit of saucage overkill can’t cure.

This is a great hold-over between meals, when your stomach is just groaning for some carbs or, more importantly, a greasy hangover snack. From a parental point of view, it will ensure your lovely, darling child will turn into a lucky little Buddha faster than you can say ‘cholesterol issues by age 18’.The friendly vendor in this photo fries her trade outside Marie Curie High School in District 3 and the price for a non-Beer Lao t-shirt wearing foreigner is 10 000 Ho’s, VND.

Vietnam views

Just some random shots from around the southern part of the country. These are the kind of pics you don't really know what to do with so they just lie around in a random folder until you have about five or six of them and then you're like *ahaa, let's make a little blog post out of them".

My football team the Saigon Raiders were out for a tournament on Phu Quoc Island about 6 weeks ago and these kids watched all the matches from their high perch. They couldn't have been more than fourteen, but they already had all the makings of football hooligans; jeering and cursing every missed shot or mistake, smoking cigarettes and pulling faces. Sure they'll grow up supporting Millwall.

One of the first, but by now not the last, "safe sex" shops around town. I doubt they have these up in Hanoi (any of you Northerners seen them?). No whips, chains or spiked rubber gear, just condoms, which is a great start. The little sign in the bottom right-hand corner asks explicitly for a male shop assistant as "we don't want to offend and tarnish the pure minds of our delicate females". Okay I made up that little quote.

This is one of the queerest things I've seen around anywhere. It seems to be a monument to capitalism in Socialist Vietnam. A family, with the kid in a trolly, out shopping, forever etched in stone outside Maximark Cong Hoa Hypermarket. The number one quirkiest bit of architecture I've ever seen was also at Maximark, now sadly removed. It was a Ferris Wheel, built right through the inside of this gigantic shopping centre, running from the basement, through the cosmetics and toiletries aisle and out through the roof!


An interesting and innovative bit of artwork in the "Year of the Buffalo", as the Chinese zodiac "Year of the Ox" is called in Vietnam. Actually, there's quite a bit of quirky art and decor out at Van Thanh Park in Binh Thanh District. Nice restaurants and a patch of grass for a pick-up game of cricket (and not so nice managers when you want to skateboard and ollie down the steps or chase each other around in their little pedal buggies).

Just off Pham Ngu Lao, near the Saigon Central Bus Station, stands this old bust up tjorra. I wonder if one of those green buses behind it had anything to do with it. Knowing the way those black-smoke belching behemoths take over the road I wouldn't be suprised.

And on the other side of the spectrum, this procession of beautiful Beetles out in Vung Tau for the International Kite Festival in March. They're from the Saigon VW Club who are based in Thu Duc District I think.

Rubies in the Dust

There are quite a few hidden little areas around the usually humming and swarming District One, if you know where to look. Just behind the Saigon Bus Station wedged behind the thoroughfares of Pham Ngu Lao and Ham Nghi Streets, is a group of tree-lined roads that seem a mile out of the busy city centre. Look around Le Cong Kieu, better known as “antique street”, Pho Duc Chinh and Le Thi Hong Gam where there are a number of little street-side cafés, vendors and other bric-a-brac shops to explore. There’s also the stained, dirty yellow façade of the Ho Chi Minh Fine Arts Museum, which has fallen into some disrepair of late, beckoning a quick perusal and nothing more. Rather head into the courtyard to the Blue Space Contemporary Arts Gallery for a much more impressive example of Vietnamese art. For some more original and highly sought-after art, head to Mantra where the artists' stylish creations range from rare-gemmed jewellery to good-karma inducing yoga mats and leather laptop bags. Stroll down “antique street” and bargain with the shop owners over trinkets or treasures and then stuff yourself at the massive 500-seat Din Ky buffet restaurant.

"Antique" coins from "antique street"

Lost music: Old instruments for sale

Street-side shoes 'n helmets

not all that glitters is gold...

Security guards playing some kickball in fron of the HCMC Fine Arts Musuem

PS: I'm on holiday for the week in Hoi An, Nha Trang and Mui Ne, so I'm not sure any more posts will be forthcoming this week, but look forward to some photos and stories next week, including the awesome Vietnamese cooking course we had today.