A. The motorcycling market
As mentioned, there are some 5 million motorcyclists in Ho Chi Min city alone. Thusly, there are certain items you can sell or buy a lot of. In particular, devices to combat pollution, skin cancer and head trauma - face masks (specially tailored ones with cutesy designs even), long gloves for the ladies' arms and helmets with cutesy designs (and more). And of course, they've got the ponchos for the rainy season. I actually considered purchasing a polka dotted one, myself ...
B. The shutters all come down.
That happens at around 11pm for hotels and guesthouses. Of course, I don't mean the 5-star establishments. In any case, this seems to come as a rather huge shock to foreigners. After having tea with the superior Swiss, it ended up being me who walked him back to his lodgings. Which had all its shutters shut (you know, the kind of metal ones which you pull down from the top). Oh, your hotel is closed! I said, rather needlessly. Are you kidding me?!?!?! he said, and started to freak out and hit the shutters. After several minutes of observing that - Why don't you ring the doorbell? I suggested. He did so, someone opened up and he quickly scurried inside. On my first day in Vietnam, a Chinese girl and her Australian internet boyfriend already told me about how they were similarly shut out of their hotel on their first night. They each told me the same story separately, so I heard it twice.
1. Who plans the towns and cities?
The buildings are oddly narrow and elongated. And seeing as they're pretty much always stacked up against each other to form a block of buildings, you've got to wonder how dark it gets in one of those places, right smack in the middle between the front door and the back door. My theory is that they were trying to make it so that everyone has a slice of the main road (however thin a slice it may be). If they divvy up the land into two rows with wider facades, for instance, they'd probably have to build two roads to service the block, rather than just one.
2. Group make-up for girls.
On the day of the wedding, the girls (eight bridesmaids) get out of bed and start piling on the make-up. Yes, I can see how it's useful in hiding those skin blemishes and creating the illusion of large soulful eyes, but it's an outdoor wedding. It's 38°C out there. One of them says to me, 'You should put on some make-up, you'll be more beautiful.' Couldn't muster up the derisive laughter, so settled for a weak decline instead. People keep telling me there're lots of pretty girls in Vietnam. I'd rather hear which country has the handsome men, y'know.
3. Time is truly elastic in Vietnam!
The tour desk tells me the bus journey from Saigon to Mui Ne takes 5 hours. I get on the bus at 4.30pm and reach Mui Ne at almost midnight. Two days later, I buy a bus ticket for a noon bus to Da Lat. The bus ambles up close to 1pm. (But I'd be waiting for 2 hours 'cause checked out at 11am.) Yet another 2 days later, I decided to save on a night's lodgings by taking the night bus back to Saigon. The lady advises the midnight bus, as it will reach Saigon at 7.30am - a good time, she says. We reach Saigon at 4.30am. I didn't even realise it is Saigon, in the darkness. Was reluctant to get off the bus, insisting that I wanted to go to Saigon. It was an hour before it dawned upon me that the shops opposite the drop off point look somewhat familiar.
4. Sure, as punctuation.
Some people in the travel industry pick up some wonderful linguistic skills. The word 'sure' seems pretty popular. In some random conversation or inquiry about a tour or a bus schedule, for example, it will pop up quite shockingly (the first time). 'You can take this tour SURE!!!' the person suddenly shouts. Or, 'This bus reaches Saigon at 7.30am SURE!!! It is a good time for you SURE!!!' Guess it is pretty handy as a exclamation mark ... SURE
5. No sweat to the airport.
Compared to other countries, Saigon's Tan Son Nhat International Airport is unbelievably close to the city centre. Two hours before my flight, I was still in town, waiting for a bus to the airport. Cursing, as usual, because I was sure I'd be late. Well, the public bus arrived, picked up and dropped off passengers along the congested way, and still made it to the airport under 30 minutes. Shocking (another example of elastic time?)! And best of all, the ride only costs about 20 cents. But hate the immigration counter (unsurprising). Asked me why the customs declaration/departure form was torn at the edge. How would I %$@!ing know, it was given to me like that by the flight attendant! (I said, 'I don't know.') 'No way you don't know,' he replied, but let me through anyway. What, are these people specifically trained to be asses?
