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!

Beijing Scammers and the Forbidden City

20/09/2014

As some of you may know, I made a conscious decision to leave semi-prepared, hoping this would make the trip more interesting. I checked the "essentials" online a few days before leaving to make sure I wouldn't miss out on any cool things to do or have problems at borders and that was it.

Well, it has certainly made things more interesting.

On my way to the Forbidden Palace, about to exit the subway station, I am intercepted by two Chinese women of about 40 who could speak english very well. They offered me to join them for the Forbidden Palace, they would act as translators. They were part of a bigger tourist group but decided to split for a day.

That's what they said.

"Cool", I thought to myself, some company.

My top, best, favorite thing in travels is to mingle with the locals.It's not always easy. It is also one of the reasons why I love Laos so much, they let you right into their life.

After we exit the subway, they guide me to the forbidden city, all the while making small talk and invite me for some tea before we proceed.

This is when the spider-sense would have been tingling, have I read a little bit more about Beijing beforehand.

We had some tea, I had a beer and they ordered some cocktails and snacks. We had a good conversation about China and Canada and some laughs, and then came the bill.

One. Hundred. Dollars.

Even better, the tiny place where we are is dead silent. Then my brain starts working out some details I should have paid attention to. There's only one table in this place, a tiny spot in the corner. Looks normal for a chinese place though, but still. Also, the sign for open/closed is switched to Closed in the window facing the street.

The waitress and both ladies are staring at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows and say that this is really expensive and ask for a discount for my beer, which was $10. Considering there's 50 cents cans right next door to my hotel, this was ludicrous.

The waitress, upon hearing my request, immediately starts shouting! "YOU PAY! YOU PAY!". One of the ladies says that it is chinese customs for the man to pick up the whole bill. "That's fine but I'm not chinese, and you were the one to invite me." I offer to pay for my beer and 1/3 of the tea ($50 alone!). I calmly take out my money and put it on the table, then stare at the other two ladies without saying a word. No one picks up my moneys. After a few, very tense seconds, one of the two ladies starts laughing and says she will pay the rest. I ended up paying $35 for beer and tea! More than the price of my room for a night, or even a full day in South-East Asia.

Later on in my travels I would meet other people, men and women, who would fall for this scam. One french man explains "It is the most expensive water I have ever drank".

Very bitterly I exit the restaurant and tell the women that it was over-priced and ridiculous. It still hadn't crossed my mind that they were working in tandem with the store owner, just that they wanted to be spoiled.

"Tea made me hungry, do you want to come with us and eat some noodles?"

At this point I realized that I had been a huge idiot. I stopped in my tracks and stared at them longer. I told them I was going to go on, on my own. They said their goodbyes cheerfully and went their way, probably back to the subway station to hook more tourist-fish with their deceptive worms of smiles.

I hope that once in a while, lying in their bed in the evening, they think about what they do, and they can't sleep at night.

Moments later, I find myself in front of the ticket office for the Forbidden City. There is an inner battle in my mind: Cost for my day - scam included - versus memories. In the end I tell myself I made it all the way to freaking China, might as well. I'll skip on some other things.

Inside the walls of the Forbidden City I look around wide-eyed. This had been a dream of mine since I was a kid, hearing about it in a movie.

The entrapment scam had unfortunately left a sour taste in my mouth. I can honestly say that I did not enjoy walking the confines of this ancient, sacred place. Everything looked too new and rebuilt as well.

Surrounded by chinese tourists I climbed up and down white stairs sculpted in rock, up white balconies, always decorated with intricate railings where heads of what looked like dragons equipped with short elephant snouts pointing up stare out in every direction, for ever.

At the top of these stairs - always in red walls roofed by ornate green tiles supported by wooden beams lacquered in gold - are the buildings used by emperors centuries ago, where they prayed and held ceremonies. The first building was situated maybe 10 feet higher than the court but the more you moved towards the middle of the Forbidden City, the bigger these buildings became and the higher they were situated.

Amassed at the doors of said buildings are waves and waves of people - all chinese, all with black heads - pushing and shoving to get a cellphone picture of an ancient throne of gold or a giant gong or the empress's living quarters, separated only from the onslaught of chinese tourists by a metal bar, chest-high, and a quiet guard sitting bored on a chair.

Walking absent-minded I go through the process, seeing a series of buildings almost identical to each other for about an hour. I don't even feel observed any more, even if I am the only foreigner for long stretches.

Finally, I see something that truly impressed me.

In the middle of these stairs, always laid down and following the incline are stone carvings depicting various scenes.

In the center of the complex however, following the longest stairs, this stone is HUGE.

As you walk up the stairs you can watch the scene unfold, of dragons emerging from a stormy ocean to go dance in a sky occupied by clouds of tempest.

The giant white stone has apparently been dragged there centuries ago, from thousands of miles away. This piece of rock is enormous. I'm not good with dimensions but if it was laid up and straight it would probably be about 20 feet high at least, and 7 feet wide. It was brought there by very determined people during winter time. They would sprinkle water on the ground to form an icy path and slid the stone that way across China.

Impressive.