3 am

I don't know why time zone differences always hit me the hardest exactly 1 week after I've landed. Right not it's 3 am in Vietnam. I just woke up, wide aware, with no signs to be able to go back to bed for another few hours.

Oh well, let's make the most of it. Sometimes you don't always need inspiration to write... only boredom and 2 beers.

I don't know if this is for everyone, but every day while I walk around, my mind is taking notes. "This would be a nice picture. That would be a cool painting. How could I describe this on paper? That girl's pretty hot. What kind of ninjutsu would I have if I was from Konoha?"

So, hopefully, I'll be able to organise these thoughts into something concrete this very early morning, while listening to the roosters sing.

I wish I had a my camera lens! The locals will start to be active in about one hour. Dernit!

One thing I often fail to mention to people who ask me what I like about living in Vietnam, is that there seems to be something special going on every day, a special moment to notice or an even to witness. For example, a few days after moving in, during a torrential downpour, Henri and I went for some food down the street. All the tiny shops, restaurants and coffee shops seemed to be closed (heavy rain has the same effect as a blizzard in Montréal) but we soon found something that seemed open.

A sign above a big sliding door sported pictures of noodle dishes. We walk in, crossing the tiny river that has formed from the rain water, deep enough to completely submerge our feet. There's a few small plastic tables and stools set up, and in the back of the small room are sitting a group of 5-6 men, going through several dishes and beers while talking. As I'm taking off my poncho, one of the men asks me in English "What do you want?". "I want to eat", I reply. Discussions ensue with the lady who is working there (who seems to a few tic-tocs missing of a full clock, judging from the vacant stare in her eyes) and eventually we're told to sit and wait a few minutes while she cooks us some seafood noodles.

We order a dish of fried rice and a dish of noodles, but only one plate of noodles comes out of the kitchen. Oh well, it's 3 pm anyways, we're lucky to have found something open. A snack will have to do.

As we start to share our meal, the man who can speaka little bit of English starts a conversation with us. My housemate Henri is from Toronto, but a 2nd-generation Vietnamese migrant, so he can talk to him in Vietnamese. We quickly learn that it's one of the men's birthday! Figures, that's why they were having such a feast! They offer that we join them in drinking a few beers. I'm about to say yes when Henri turns to me and whispers "You know if we start this right now, we're not out of here for a few hours, and we'll be completely smashed. Look at the birthday guy..."

I look in the corner of the room. The guy who's birthday it is has just moved to a lawn chair set up by the far wall and is sound asleep.

"Yeah, you're right. I don't have to work today though".
"Me neither, but I don't feel like getting day-drunk".
"Hmmm. I'm trying to cut down on my drinking too".

After this quick exchange, we decline politely. But, just to prove my point, that day was unexpectedly special. We got to cheer for someone's birthday. I also talked with one of the men, a small Vietnamese of white hair who I originally thought was about 90 years old. It was hard to conceal my shock when he told me he was in his 60s.

As I was looking for food this afternoon, we met in the street. He said a big hello, shook my hand, and told me he liked me a lot. "Today, I drink beer" he adds with a smile. I already guessed that sir, from the way your breath killed all the plants on the street.

I'm happy to say that after moving 4 times since arriving in Ho Chi Minh city in March, I seem to have finally found a nice house where I can set my bags down for a while (aiming at 6 months). Okay, I could be somewhere else much cheaper, but my housemates are pretty cool and we have two roof terraces, one of which we have decided to clean up and pimp out.

Today I went up there and checked out the numerous neglected plants. As I was cleaning their pots I found myself worrying about spiders, but all I disturbed was tiny, dark geckos who jumped out of the pot at the first sign of danger.

I love these little guys. I saw one of them in my room when I woke up earlier.

I don't know why, but in every class I've taught to adults so far (not a lot, mind you), for the first few weeks, the students always try to find a flaw in me. I guess it's their right since they're paying customers, but I find it quite annoying and counter-productive. I teach conversational English (harder than it sounds, but easier than grammar for me) but am often interrupted and even challenged in the classroom about the way my sentences are built - either as I'm talking, or on written exercises.

I try time and time again to explain to them that written and spoken language are very different and what you learn in school books is too perfect - that no one talks like that in real life - but I am often met with sceptical looks and a respectful "Okay".

I mean, I've never heard "Furthermore" being used so casually before, and so often. Another example: these kids are drilled relentlessly with grammar and syntax as they grow up. They're walking dictionaries. If you make a spelling mistake on the board (which happens when you confuse English and French, like me) they'll get the classroom all worked up. They'll also ask you what a word means when they know what it means, just to see if your definition matches their dictionary's or Google's.

It's still fun however, and I'd like to think I'm quickly getting the hang of it.

Well folks, that's all my brain can muster at this time of the night with 3 hours of sleep. Have a good one!

I'm okay u guyz

I would like to start by saying to everyone: I'm doing okay! I'm not depressed or anything, just turning my cosmic sight inwards, like hơw Captain Marvel (not the Shazam! one) did some decades ago.

I did not discover that I had cancer like he did, however.

If you look back at how this blog started, it used to be personnal as fuck. I kind of stepped away fron that for a while, because sometimes I met people at parties who would go "I love your stuff! I read everything!" And of course I appreciate the dedication, but I felt too much like an open book, and so I put up the natural force field of protection and write more about my travels around the world, and not those of the mind, of the heart.

So yeah, that last post was a little outburst of bottled-up thoughts let loose. But I'm fine, really.

The follow-up was a plethora of messages from friends, some of which opened the door to very meaningful conversations, for which I am very grateful.

On to other things.

I am sitting at a little wooden table in a restaurant in Hue, Vietnam, the ancient capital of the country, housing the "Purple Forbidden City".

I came down here to give some love to my girl, Lucy, my motorbike. She's been waiting patiently for over a month.

I am in a period of transition, for in about 3 weeks I will stop being a backpacker and turn into a sedentary foreigner.

A student, of all things.

My backpack is filled to capacity, since my needs have changed. It's too cold for my light trekking shoes, shorts and tank-tops. I had to obtain new shoes, jeans and shirts, even a light jacket.

My mindset is adapting as well. I spent 4 days in Hanoi and haven't visited a single attraction. My time was spent shopping for clothes and a cellphone.

The rest of the time I would simply read a book in a small café or wander aimlessly, sort of like what I do back home during my free time.

One night I was approached by 2 university teachers looking to practice their english. They invited me for some street food and even drove me to a cellphone store. Mighty generous of them.

The next day a Vietnamese lady who studied in Holland more than 15 years ago offered to buy me a coffee so we could talk and she could refresh her language skills.

It's been quite interesting, going for food with strangers but this time, my companions are not other travelers. I have actually grown quite anti-social towards them, to my own surprise.

I also want to mention that for good times' sake I rarely mention anything negative about my travels, painting a very Disney-esque picture of the whole thing.

I will shed some light on the whole affaire soon, like Dick Tracy exploring under the cover of darkness a clandestine warehouse down on the waterfront.

But not right now, the last post was heavy enough.

It's Christmas very soon. I hope everybody is doing well.

Hugs and ball-punching,

Ho ho ho
Ha ha
Ho hee
Ha~


(Joker style)

Finally!

More Don Det notes... I have about 4 or 5 left...

2 days ago I went fishing with Ken and his friend Ep. It couldn't be more different than how we fish back home...

Instead of a bunch of people sitting in a boat drinking beer and casting a line playing the waiting game, there is one man rowing - in this situation, me - one man standing up at the front of this very unstable barge (Ken) and one man with a diving mask on - a mask that looks 50 years old - actively looking for the fish (Ep).

It is a much more pro-active approach and much more entertaining. As I am sitting in the boat roasting under the afternoon sun, slowly being carried away by the current, pushing at the rocks with the oar, Ken is standing up in a blue speedo and waiting for his friend to give him the go to toss the net. Ep is in his black speedo diving every few minutes, chasing fish and looking for branches. He's pretty good at holding his breath.

Every time we toss the net there's a chance rubbish will get caught in it and that we have to pick out of the net, being careful not to tear the fragile apparatus.

"I'm sorry Étienne, it will be over soon"
"Ken, I like fishing, don't worry about me"
"Ok my friend. Can you go over there?"

The balance that you must have, to cast that net and not fall in the water, is pretty impressive. One of my favourite things to do on the island is to sit with a beer by the river at sunset and watch the fishermen at work. Guarantee you'll see one of them fall in the water every night, then come up and blow his nose while his friends laugh.

That day we caught a fish. I was standing thigh-deep in the water on a slippery rock, holding the boat as still as possible. Ep came up and pointed very excitedly at a spot in the water and Ken deftly threw his net in the air. We watched it unfold and land in a perfect circle in the water, waited for it to sink and silently looked on as Ken, holding on to a piece of string, brought it back up. As it folds under the water, it traps everything inside.

We brought up the net and saw our victim entangled! Ken let a very loud and happy "Finally!!!" and we all had huge smiles on our faces, even if the fish was pretty small. Ken had been fishing regularly since I've known him but always came home empty-handed.

I told him that my beard was good luck.

After this, I had to come on every trip.

Ken and his wife ate their fish that night, with some sticky rice and very spicy peppers. I didn't touch it as I am not allowed to eat that meal any more... It gives me the shits like nothing else.

After this Ken decided to fish closer to home (as in, directly in front of the bar). As I rowed around in circles he'd toss the net randomly and we started to catch fish every 2-3 days. We had to hurry before the neighbor's kids came home from school (Tana and Noua) because they love to play with us and that would scare all the fish away.

Next time I'm over I'll have to learn how to toss the net.

Picture taken by my good friend and fellow traveler Anthony Toussaint

Paï

Yesterday morning I woke up from a good relaxing night and found an internet coffee shop to skype with a few friends from home.

I then set out for Paï where the gang already is.

A mini-bus took us through the curviest roads I've witnessed yet, and I kept wondering how the hell they achieved this feat and how long it must have taken them.

After 2 hours of sickening frantic driving through jungle, the trees diminished enough on my left to unveal a scenery of mountain tops and orange sunset.

A military check-up and 2 more hours and I was in Paï, hanging out with the crew. We ate some Phad Thaï and proceeded to get hammered at Yellow Sun, a cool little bar.

We then went back to the house we were renting and chilled out on the balcony, drinking rum n coke and watching the meteor shower.

This morning I woke up and had the shakes from a Changover. We all went for breakfast and had a good laugh, then all got out on our scooters. I set off on my own for about 20 minutes for a dip in a freezing pond at the foot of a small waterfall.

I then went back to our group of friends who were at a Piranha fishing farm. We spent a good 2 hours there, drinking beer, casting lines, hanging out and relaxing. We're still here at the moment, the owners are heavily-tattooed australians who figured out a righ way to live.

There's 2 Thaï kids playing around and 4 puppies sucking on a bitch's swollen teets, while the male tries to eat the fish bait from unsuspecting fishermen.

Ben's the only one who caught something, a common silver barb, he estimates the weigh at 1kg.

I almost crashed driving there because a fucking chicken crissed the road at the worst possible moment. I hit the brakes and hurt my toe a little bit since I was only wearing slippers, but the main danger was averted.

Some dogs started barking at me and I tried to explain to them that I just saved that chicken's life, but I think they only spoke Thaï and Bark.

Tonigh will probably be spent lounging around drinking local rum... The night should be quiet, there's a regga festival going on but we decided not to go.