In a relationship, after a while, you begin to notice things about your partner that really get on your last nerve. Those traits that you once found endearing: their bad, ‘dad’ dance moves, their trivial knowledge and their almost-too-sweet nature, now make your toes curl.
This is where my relationship is at with Vietnam.
Nearly every little thing that I used to find charming about the country now pisses me right off.
I used to like the organised chaos of Vietnamese roads; it gave me a sense of freedom. I can drive anywhere I want, in whatever direction I want, without being stopped. Now, I’ve realised how dangerous this organised chaos really is, and how little drivers give a damn about the safety of others driving around them. In particular, how little the taxi-drivers give a shit about people walking or driving, as long as they can push their way through the traffic like mechanical bullies just to cut 5 seconds off their journey time.
The climate is no longer a novelty. It’s either hot, or hotter. I find myself daydreaming of cold, winter nights, snuggled up in a soft bed with a thick duvet drinking a cup of tea (without condensed milk) and watching BBC’s Winterwatch 2015. On a brighter note, my skin will have a lovely, golden glow all year round.
The Vietnamese people are very sweet, and it’s true when I say that I’ve never had so many people smile at me and be genuinely happy to see me. The only difficulty lies with the language – it is impossible to learn. And because of this obstacle, life can sometimes get a little bit lonely. I’ve made plenty of Western friends, and there is no shortage of people passing through Danang at the weekends, but it’s not the same as making friendships with the local people you see everyday. For example, I cannot have a conversation with the lady who makes me my favourite Mi Quang. Instead, I’m restricted to saying ‘that was really tasty’ in very broken, badly pronounced Vietnamese. Or I end up relying on my colleagues. Which isn’t fair on them.
And because I struggle with the language, I’m prone to being taken advantage of when it comes to buying things. At first, this didn’t really bother me; I knew I could afford it as most of my purchases were worth less than a few quid. This was before I realised that I could not live comfortably on 300 USD a month. So money became a little bit tighter. Which then made it more difficult for me to accept being charged double or even triple the price of something because I’m foreign.
And I’m not even going to get started on people clearing their catarrh for the whole world to hear…
I’m not sure why I feel the way I do at the minute. It may have something to do with being situated in one place; the monotony of working life getting the better of me. Unlike travelers, I don’t have the luxury of being able to up and leave and move somewhere else. Or take a city break midweek for a few days.
I’ve experienced every human emotion possible in my short time here. Apart from losing my beloved Grandma, dealing with culture shock has to be the most difficult thing of all. I have grown to accept, love, hate and appreciate many aspects of Vietnamese culture, but maybe I’m too British for my own good.
I can totally empathise with Dre Parker (Karate Kid, 2010).
Maybe I should take up karate?
the nuneaton nomad. 