Consisting of police raids, nerves and tentacles

Today was a really surreal day, in part due to the deep-fried tentacles that topped my afternoon noodle soup and made me feel like I was in Pirates of the Caribbean. They taste a bit like pork scratchings; quite nice.

I'm not sure of the real reason why today didn't feel like other days, because it ostensibly it was the same as most - teaching, running, eating noodle soup (for all 3 meals - a new personal best), getting lost on my motorbike. It passed in a bit of a sleepy daze and I never felt like I was really there.

Maybe it's because tomorrow I start this new job, and the old comfortable phase is coming to an end, and a scary new phase is beginning. I'm so nervous about it, because this time I think I really might not be up to the challenge. Teaching GCSEs to a class of 26 state schools kids based on no real resources is going to be different to inventing superheroes with a few posh kids at a Saturday school.

I have been constantly to-ing and fro-ing in my mind ever since I got the job about whether I actually want to take it or not. They've dumped me with a load of classes this week even though I haven't left my last job yet, which I plan to turn to my advantage by being characteristically non-committal and disrespectful of contractual obligation - I've told myself that I just have to teach the classes this week, and if I'm as rubbish at it as I think I'm going to be, I don't have to stay, but if I like it, I will stay. I will report back tomorrow as to how it went.

Thoa is currently telling me that the police might come into our house in the night and make me leave because I'm living here illegally. I hope they don't do that, it's raining outside.

In which dead dogs and peas are mentioned

black cat loves (???)piglet(???)

10th October is the 1000th anniversary of Hanoi, and the celebrations started last night. As far as I can tell, they consist in some light shows, some kids banging drums, and insane amounts of traffic and crowds. We drove into the Old Quarter (busy central part) last night. I didn't take a photo, but it's not an exaggeration to say that the traffic was considerably worse than this:

Tensions were high, and there was a punch-up in the middle of the road. I didn't like it at all. Soon after I had some beer and some rice cake and felt much better.

I didn't take this photo either. Taking photos makes me feel like a tourist.

The new prize for best thing carried on the back of a motorbike goes to the person carrying about 100 pink balloons, driving through heavy (heavy) traffic in the middle of Hanoi. They definitely couldn't see where they were going.

The prize for worst thing on the back of a motorbike, in fact perhaps the worst thing ever, is the 8 dead dogs I saw at about 7am this morning. They had no hair, their throats cut and judging by the size of their arseholes (sorry Mummy), their guts had also been removed via this exit. But they still had teeth and little doggy faces that bounced around when the bike went over bumps. I think it's illogical that it should be so much worse to see than a dead pig or a dead chicken, but it totally is. It's really, really horrible. It made me want a reassuring hug with Elsa.

Less morbidly, I have been planning what pet I will acquire when we move into our new house, next Monday. I wanted a rat but my housemates did not seem keen on this idea; apparently they think the rats in the staffroom at work are pests rather than cheerful companions. Now I want to either adopt the straggly little kitten tied to the tree outside work, or one of the rabbits stuffed into a cage in the Old Quarter, gnawing on the pigeons in the cage with them. I think they were going to be dinner. There are probably more respectable petshops, and I know that supposedly if you buy from the nasty places it's supporting the industry so you shouldn't do it, but I was thinking: me not buying from the less reputable places is hardly going to collapse the industry or actually make any difference whatsoever, whereas if I do buy a rabbit from there, I am making one rabbit's life much happier.
(The 1A Ethics course has finally come in useful.)

probably not going to be my pet

Other news:
'Curly hair' has officially been renamed 'noodle hair'.
I ate at a vegetarian macrobiotic restaurant with no menu and it was amazing.
I like driving my motorbike.
I might move jobs but I probably won't.
Mattresses are overrated.
I found a bar that plays System Of A Down.
You can make popcorn from peas.
Everybody should work with people who are reduced to hysterical laughter and screaming at the prospect of singing Wheels On The Bus; I think the world would be a happier place.

I didn't take this either, but I think it feels a lot like Hanoi.

Most exciting post ever

I have little to report except for a breakfast potato that matched my nail varnish. It might be a yam.

Getting out of Hanoi

Hanoi is constantly go, go, go. As much fun as that is, especially after living in the arse-end-of-nowhere that is Kirdford (sorry Mummy), it can get exhausting. So on Friday, Kelly and I got on my motorbike and headed south. About 2.5 hours, several wrong turns, some cow-dodging, and a poncho-purchasing pit stop later, we got to a place called Chua Huong (or the Perfume Pagoda in guide-book, tour-operator language).


At first, we seriously thought something was up. Basically any tourist destination mentioned in the Lonely Planet is guaranteed to be rammed, and when I'd looked up directions on the internet, I'd got the impression of a really busy place. I was hoping that our day wouldn't be ruined by sheer excess of tourists. (Obviously Kelly and I don't count, we live here :) )

But we got to the town, and bar a few Vietnamese collecting hay, fishing, and other such rural pursuits, there was NO ONE there. No sign of any tour operators, Westeners, or road maintainance. Obviously that's what you always want when you come to these places, but it was just weird, and we both felt that there was something awry (what a word).


Well, we were massively wrong. Because this place was beautiful, quiet, and completely devoid of motorbike horns - everything I wanted to leave Hanoi for. I don't know why there was no one else there. Maybe they were all in Ha Long Bay.


We got this bloke called Jung to row us down the river a little way, and then he took us up a mountain (it was probably just a hill but I sweated enough for a mountain), through all the jungle, and on the other side were pagodas (like temples), built into caves in the hillside. They were so tucked-away and tranquil.


Kelly tried to collect some leaves for her Kindy class to do arty crafty stuff with, and the first one she picked was apparently poisonous, and her finger came up in a big red rash with a white bump, and was really painful. Our guide tried to hack her finger apart with a needle but she resisted him and his inch-long fingernails.


We saw the following baby animals: dog, cat, goat, cow, pig. Jung taught us how to say their names in Vietnamese. I got very excited.


On the boat on the way back my view looked like this:


And I was listening to this song:


I had a bit of a moment.

My favourite bit of the whole day was driving home on my lovely growly motorbike. It was that time of early evening where the light is quite orange, and we were zooming past rice paddies and people making hay. I wish that everyone reading this was on the back of the bike with Kelly to see what it was like, or maybe that I was better with words and so could describe it some way other thing "fucking rad"...but it was fucking rad. The thoughts in my head at that time consisted mainly of "Yeahhhhh".

Last night I was going to watch Vietnam vs. North Korea at the Hanoi Stadium, just for the novelty of watching two oppressed Communist nations play one another at football. The score was 0-0, so I'm quite glad I was too lazy to go. Instead we went out for lẩu, which is hotpot. Ours had tofu and mushrooms and it was very tasty.

Currently sitting on the balcony in my pants, listening to someone nearby playing Spanish classical guitar, and not doing much else - so I thought I'd show off some of the pretty pictures I've taken of the pretty city I live in.


The above photos are from West Lake, the only peaceful place in Hanoi. Taken shortly before my flat tyre, boo. FYI family - this is the lake you're staying next to, it's beautiful.



These are taken at Thong Nhat Park (aka Reunification Park aka Lenin Park) at about 6.30am - the morning exercisers. Another one of my favourite things about Hanoi. Look for the huge aerobics class in the top photo - I pretended to take a photo of the train because I felt pervy. N.B. swimming in the lake is not recommended, unless you're a fan of cholera, as this man apparently is.


This was one of many amazing bowls of pho I've eaten. Unfortunately it was too good to photograph before I'd finished. Price: about 30p. Dead flies: optional.


This I saw on Pho Hue, around the corner from work. I thought it was quite pretty.

I have no classes tomorrow, and that can only mean one thing. (Sorry Mummy.)

For my 'puritanical mother' who has apparently been having nightmares on behalf of my 'poor old battered liver', in this post I will talk less about how much beer I drink and instead answer some of her questions about what I'm doing.

Tell us about the language school.
Apollo is one of the better language schools in Hanoi; it has a good reputation, at least as a place to learn, and a really good resources library. Of three centres, mine is the one nearest the middle of town, so it's really easy to get places after work. There's free fruit in our office on weekends. There's aircon in the classrooms but not in the stairwells. I have a desk with my name on it.
How many teachers?
About 15/20...there always seems to be people coming and going, and I haven't met all of them yet. I think a few only work part-time. There are about 6 that I've made friends with.
What are they like and where are they from?
England, America, loads from Irelands, a Kiwi girl and her Argentinian boyfriend, some Germans...The ones I've spoken to I get on really well with. Some are a bit strange, some aren't very friendly. Also, loads of middle-aged men here have beautiful Vietnamese wives, so I guess they're here for different reasons than me, we don't really talk much.
How long do people tend to stay there?
Not very long...my school pays the worst in Hanoi, so loads of people leave or go part-time after a couple of months, so they can use the resources library but get better pay elsewhere. Apollo's shooting themselves in the foot though, because they're left with no experienced teachers, and no one who knows the school very well. They should pay us more.
What’s it like teaching?
I really enjoy it. I don't think I'm very good or very inspiring but I'm improving as I get more used to it. I like the little kids the best.
How do classes compare to the Italian kids?
The classes are bigger but m0re manageable. I think the kids are harder-working - obviously that's a generalisation and there are exceptions on both sides, but it does makes the classes easier to teach. Most of the kids are really cute. Some are brats, like when I gave my class sweets and let them draw a comic and this girl was like "Teachaaah, will do more interesting? Play a game? I not think this is interesting" and I was like "Fuck you bitch, comics are awesome"
Have you taught any adults?
Even the adult classes are mainly 16 year olds; I have probably taught one actual adult. I also gave a private lesson to my friend Tien but I don't think it was very good because he hasn't asked for another one.
How is your Vietnamese coming on?
Slowly but surely...I can speak enough to get around, ask for directions, get my motorbike fixed, order the food I want, but I can't have a conversation, and I apparently I can't avoid getting ripped off when I get my motorbike fixed.
How are you getting on with your bike?
I love my bike very much, I ride it everywhere. It is big and growly. On Friday I got a massive screw through my tyre in the middle of nowhere and a man came to fix it, but I think he did a bad job because at about 3am on Sunday morning it was flat again, and I had to abandon it, and pay extortionate amounts for a new tyre on Sunday evening. It was a bit crap but I think the adversity only brought my bike and me closer.
Are you still in one piece?
Yes

I think that was really boring but maybe only because I already know what's going on in my life. I hope you enjoyed it.

I was all set to pretend to be off sick today and run away into the mountains with my roommate Thoa, but woke up thinking of the reports I had to write and the body parts I had to teach, and decided to come into work. I blame my puritanical mother for giving me a good work ethic.

This song is awesome:

Tôi không thích an Mam Tom

nom nom nom

My Vietnamese isn't good enough to ever really be sure what I'm eating, so some of the time I just take what I'm given. Sometimes it turns out to be amazing garlicky morning glory; sometimes a bowl of chicken skin; once a deep-fried egg. But I do know that Đau is tofu, so when I see it on a sign, I go for it. I love tofu.

At lunchtime yesterday, and again today, I saw "Bún Đau" on the sign. Some smiling, nodding, and pointing later, I was given a plate of tofu, some noodles all stuck together and cut into chunks (this is the bún part). So far so good.

looking innocent

But Bún Đau is accompanied by the most disgusting food known to man. "Mam Tom" is fermented shrimp sauce; they give you a bowl of it, and you have to mix it all up with your chopsticks, and dip the tofu/noodle chunks in. I really want to like it, but it's horrible. Salty and stinky and fishy, grey and frothy. It'd be fine if I could leave it and just eat my tofu, but all the Vietnamese ladies eating around me are so fucking friendly and encouraging. They show me how to do it, and then watch to make sure I'm doing it right and enjoying it, and pile my plate up with more food if I manage to get through the first bit. So I have to keep dipping my lovely tofu into the stinky shit sauce. I was really hungover today and I felt like I was going to puke. I turned up at my Vietnamese lesson sweaty and pale and she was all like "Ohhhh, is very hot? Em nong?!"

And the salad they serve with it is the most rubbish salad ever, I swear it's a big plate of nettles. No more Bún Đau for me. I'm not sure why I ate it two days in a row anyway.


Luckily there are many good things to eat instead. Last night I went to a vegetarian restaurant with my new 'friend' (yeahhh) and ate all the delicious vegetables. And behold the beautiful dragon fruit I just ate for my tea:


I think figs may have a contender for the long-held "bestest fruit" position.

Ohhh and amazing coffee here, with condensed milk, so good. I drank loads and then stayed up until 5am reading Anna Karenina.


I have been doing other things than eating. The other things are mainly drinking and riding motorbikes.

I taught my first class of the really little kiddies yesterday, aged four to six. They are ridiculously cute, I want all of them for my own - including the one that cried every time I tried to get him to answer a question, and the one that kept happily puking over the kids next to him. It didn't even bother him, it was inspiring.

Today I bought some pajama bottoms (as I am sharing a bed with my roommate and so have had to relinquish my nakie sleep-style) but I overlooked the fact that my shins are bigger than those of a Vietnamese woman. I have fashioned the pajama bottoms into a roll-up style at top and bottom and now it looks a bit like I've pooed myself.

This is our lovely little balcony where I'm sitting at the moment, being blasted by the fan:

This is unrelated:
Yoga Bear