What’s it like living over there? Is it amazing? Are you having a good time? Questions I’ve been asked a thousand times since leaving the UK four and a half years ago. It is crazy wonderful but I’m not a backpacker, or long term traveller. My Monday morning is the same…
6:15 and the do, di, do, da da of my alarm sounds, groan, roll over, turn it off, go back to sleep until the next at 6:30, drag my sluggish bleary body to the kitchen, watch aimlessly as the kettle boils, make my tea, ready to cool while I take my shower. Dress. Go to work. Drink more tea to wake up. Do my work.
The difference is when I wake up I turn on the Fan not the Central Heating, I wonder how to layer my clothes to be work appropriate without melting, I hear chickens and motorbikes from my window…which is open, even in December. I dress with layers trying to cover myself from the heat not cold, I see Vietnamese faces in the lift, which I take to the garage where I wrestle my motorbike out of its corner, waving and saying Sin Chau to the smiley security guards, who day and night guard the bikes and building. I join the many motorbikes jostling, wriggling and weaving up Nguyen Dinh Chieu, dodging cars and buses. At junctions I stand in the exhaust fog of a hundred motorbikes and listen to the roar of engines as, like a shoal of fish, we move across the road. I pass down into another basement, nod at another set of security guards, park and get into another lift. Gather books, class list and a second cup of tea. My working day begins. Just like all of you…
