Fan Mail

Today is a happy day and it just makes all the painful hours writing away worthwhile when you have one adoring fan take the time to pass on a few kinds words. Well for me that day has come and to say it is gratifying is an understatement. Below you will find some fan mail I received about an article I submitted online on eating a snakes heart in Hanoi.


As an expat living and working in Hanoi can I say how sick I am of the following:

1. Bone headed drunks paying to be macho by eating snakes, snake blood, still eating snake hearts etc.
2. Equally stupid macho idiots writing about the above on their ill-informed blog so they can show off to their mates at home
3. Journalists also doing the above and kidding themselves that somehow they have found the "real Vietnam"
4. Dumb websites, newspapers etc reprinting it and therefor encouraging yet more macho prats to do the same.

This is why you shouldn't do what the idiot you wrote this blog did:

1. You may think you are doing something uber traditional and whose to say the practice hasn't gone back a few centuries, however, nowadays, it's pretty much just for tourists. I've lived in this country for three years and I have never, not once, been asked to take part in something like this by a Vietnamese person.

2. Extreme eating is an incredibly dangerous practice in developing countries. It's the same thought process that sees people pay large amounts for rare animals to eat. A new eating experience. "There's hardly any of them left...heck then I better eat one now then."

A great number of NGOs are investing large amount of money to try and change the above attitude of macho eating. And then idiots like these stroll into town and put their dollars on the table and think that eating part of an animal that is still not yet dead is somehow acceptable.

3. People in Vietnam eat many things but, meatwise, they mostly eat chicken, beef and pork. So...

4. Vietnam has incredible food that you could write about for years and still not cover every dish, recipe etc - so why waste your time on this? If you are a writer and you really care about writing something accurate regarding the country you are in then please don't write about this snake heart crap. Go grab a bowl of Pho.

Matador travel...please get a little more picky in the crap you decide to highlight.

* All jokes aside, criticism is always welcome and is part of the writing game. Personally I don't believe with most of what my adoring fan had to say. Why? Because I have talked about the subject with many Vietnamese over the past 6 months.

My reply:
http://matadortravel.com/travel-blog/vietnam/teamyeah/eating-a-snakes-heart-in-hanoi#comment

Joyeux anniversaire maman

J’ai quelques jours de retard sur le blog, mais j’ai téléphoné a temps!
Un très joyeux anniversaire à ma maman, toujours supportive et aimante, ou que je sois.
On a hate de te recevoir ici, et de te montrer notre nouvelle vie, que tu appreciera et valideras je le sais, comme pour toutes mes vies précédentes : Paris, Southampton, Sydney. De la part de Dan : bon anniversaire Chandler. Le surnom est né il y a quelques années, quand j’ai dit à Dan avant qu’il ne rencontre ma mère pour la première fois, pour l’aider à se souvenir de son prénom, de penser à la série « friends ». pour ceux qui ne le savent pas, ma mère s’appelle Monique. Dans friends, Courney Cox s’appelle Monica. Arrivés au restaurant, on a discuté joyeusement tous les trois, et quand j’ai demandé a Dan si il se souvenait du prénom de ma mère, il a pense a Friends, comme prévu, et a dit « Chandler !! ». J’en ris encore.

I am a bit late on this blog to wish my mum a happy birthday, but I did call her on time, three days ago.
My mum is always supportive and loving, wherever I am, and she has always liked and validated every life I built for myself over the years: Paris, Southampton, London, Sydney and now Hanoi.
From Dan : happy Birthday Chandler !!
The nickname goes bask a few years. My mum’s name is Monique – in English it would be Monica I guess. Before Dan met my mum for the first time, he had troubles remembering her name so told him to think about the series Friends, which he knows well for I watch it compulsively – this and many other ones. We met with mum at a restaurant and after a while I asked him if he remembered her name: he went to friends like a good student and blurted out “Chandler!!”. I was puzzled for a second, and then my brain followed the path his just had: It makes me laugh to this day.

Proud of my wife

Two days ago we were invited to a Tet (New Year) lunch. Our neighbour was finishing off the Lunar New Year celebrations with a big lunch at his home for which he had hired the chef from the nearby Sheraton Hotel.

We happily accepted his invitation and I picked up a nice bottle of Australian red wine as a thank you to the host. The host and his friends could not speak English. One of the other male guests was French, a neighbour as well, who could speak pretty good Vietnamese.

We sat down at the table with a big salad and various chicken, beef, pork and vegetable dishes. The wine I gave as a gift was sitting on the table. There was one other woman at the table, Lan: she's our favourite neighbour, she brings us nem and lets Celine cuddle her 9 months baby all the time, she's the French man's wife. The rest were all friends of the host; 7 guys in total. The hosts friend brought out 8 shot glasses; 7 for the guys and one for Celine. He poured the red wine into the shot glasses for each of the guests. I remember Celine saying it was a nice gesture to share the gift with everyone. The glasses were raised to a CHEERS and before I realised it everyone had downed their wine; with the exception of me, Celine and the French guy. Trying to fit in with the crowd I quickly downed mine as well. Celine and I found this very funny. It was the first time we had seen that. I am not sure if it was the taste or its lack of alcohol but the boys turned to xeo, the local rice wine after that shot.

Fitting with Vietnamese custom, the boys eat only a little and drink a hell of a lot. After two shots of xeo Celine realised she was not being included. The men would raise and clink their glasses but avoid Celine. Avoid may not be the right word as I don't think there was any malice in it, just that it is not the norm for a girl to be enjoying this drinking ritual. In six months I have only seen a handful of girls drink any alcohol and when they have it has not been xeo; instead sipping a beer. Regardless, for Celine I imagine it would be a bit disheartening. On the third shot she tried again with the same result. She didn't take it to heart though and persevered. We both realised it was a man's lunch. The hosts wife, one of two, helped prepare the meal and while we were eating at the table she ate in the lounge with her son. Celine contemplated asking her to join but we thought it was probably not the best to ask.

As I said Celine persevered. Celine spoke to the guys in Vietnamese and she was good. Celine commented about the food and about the host and about his friends. They laughed. Celine understood their replies. Celine made jokes. They laughed. Celine explained to me when I didn't understand. Celine raised her glass and said CHEERS and all the boys responded, raising their glass, a big smile on their face. In a man's world I was extremely proud of Celine. At times she owned the table and had every one's attention. She was invited, with me to come along, to a lunch at a beer house the following day.

All the guys at the table, 40 years old and above, are a part of a culture where the women usually play second fiddle when at a lunch/drinking celebration. They are often not even there. Seeing Celine speak and laugh and win these guys attention made me incredibly proud because I don't think it is an easy thing to do.

At one point Celine said she was fat compared to the Vietnamese women. They all shook their had saying "No No No" The host saying "No fat.........big boobs!!"...........Funny!

Dan explique qu’il est fier de moi parce que dans un monde d’hommes, je sais me faire respecter (surtout parce que je parle Vietnamien avec eux et ma prononciation dramatique les fait rire, ces hommes :))
Anecdote: nous etions invite a dejeuner chez notre voisin, que des hommes a la table, et je discutais avec l'hote de differences physiques entre les filles de l'Ouest et les Vietnamiennes. Quand j'ai dit que j'étais grande et tanquée par rapport, ils ont tous dis "non non pas du tout grosse" mais ont fait des gestes de gros seins. Les gens sont plutot pudiques ici et ce genre de reflexion n'est pas courante... Dan s'est etouffe de rire dans sa bière.

It just doesn't happen at home

I went out for a quick dinner last, opting for a place on Yen Phu street, not far from my house. It was a simple setup; the cooks make the food out the front, you sit inside. I ordered my food in Vietnamese, incorrectly, and then went and found a seat as the young cooks had a laugh at my pronunciation. There was no one else in the place. Not a soul. This may have made me a little uncomfortable back home but it didn't bother me here.

I was taking in the place in my moment of solitude when a guy walks in and without hesitation sits opposite me. I nod and say xin chao Anh (hello big brother) to which he replies xin chao Em (hello little brother). At first I thought me might have been one of the cooks or that he worked there but after a few seconds he ordered his food which raised my eyebrow. "Is he getting his food to take away" I thought and even so why does he have to sit here, virtually on top of me. The seats and tables are plastic and kids size in most street food places. Here I was sitting on my chair with my feet on the ground and my knees were higher than the table. The table was small as well so with two plates and a glass on my table I really had to start maximising the space.

I have learnt to accept the small chairs and tables but the fact that this guy chose to sit right opposite me in a completely empty restaurant really challenged my cultural boundaries. If he had really wanted to talk then I could acknowledge his decision but he wasn't even a little bit interested. I smiled and said a few things only to be met with nonchalant replies or glances. This made me a little uncomfortable and as my dinner was served I could only think "Why........Why are you fucking sitting there".

Not enjoying my meal I tried to forget about it and take myself away to a happy place. I was getting somewhere quite happy but was rudely distracted by the guy turning around every 20 or so seconds to watch the Korean soap show on the TV. His back was to the TV so his only way to see what was going on was to of course turn around. This was taking me away from my happy place. It didn't occur to him to change to one of 37 empty seats, yes I actually counted them. His food arrived and now we had two massive plates, two bowls and two glasses all on a tiny table fit for a little girl and her first tea party.

I ate my food quickly and left. Riding home I wondered why. Why did this guy sit where he did when he had 37 other options; 37 other options me or probably anyone from the western world would take. Maybe it was his seat. Maybe he comes in everyday and sits in the same seat. Maybe he has OCD and under no circumstance will he sit anywhere else. Maybe sitting on your own is not cool but there was only me to judge and I would have happily called him cool if he sat somewhere else. I really don't know the reason but one thing I know for sure is that it just doesn't happen at home.

Dan explique que dans la série "ca ca n'arriverait jamais chez nous", il s'était installé dans un troquet vide pour manger une soupe de nouille, quand un local est venu s'assoir a sa petite table, en face, alors qu'il y avait 31 tables vides autour. Dan s'est dit que le type devait avoir envie de compagnie, mais non, il répondait d'un grognement a ses tentatives de conversation.
Parfois, il faut juste se dire qu'on ne comprend pas bien et que ce n'est pas grave. :)

La reprise - back to reality

Il fait très très froid sur Hanoi.
J’ai repris les cours hier: un Dimanche, la journée de loin la plus violente de toute la semaine, avec 4 classes d’affilée de 90 minutes chacune, des enfants surexs, tous les ordis sont pris, toutes les imprimantes déconnent, il y a 25 profs dans la salle des profs. C’est la bordel. C’est la reprise.
Franchement, je preferais la rentrée des classes vue de l’autre coté de la cloture : a travers mes yeux d’enfants, c’était super. A travers mes yeux de profs, c’est moins la joie. D’ici à quelques années j’espère pouvoir vous dire ce que ca donne à travers les yeux d’un parent.


It's very cold on Hanoi. The first day back to school was yesterday, and Sundays are way more stressful and full-on than any other days of the week, with four classes in a row, lots of excited kids, twenty people on the teacher's room (3 computers), broken printers and craziness all around.
Yep. Back we are.
when I was a kid, I looooved started school again after the holidays. It's a big deal in France, the whole country gets ready for the first week of school. I found it so exciting, buying from the new stationary list, finding out about my new time table...
Well, as a kid I loved it. As a teacher, I can now say I love it a lot less. Hope I can tell you in a few years how I like it as a parent...

Benny the Monkey

If there was ever a monkey who helped pen the expression "Cheeky Monkey" then I think Benny deserves that honour. This little guy hung out on Ton Sai Beach and was hilarious to play with. I had to stop running the video so I could try and remove Benny who was happily dangling from Celine's hair. We may contemplate getting our own monkey; how cool would that be.

Ton Sai Beach, Thailand

Ton Sai Beach, Krabi is a climbers retreat. Travellers not tourists descend on this small stretch of sand, their mentality different. From around the world they come, all sharing the same passion. I am not a climber but I feel comfortable here.

As I sit on a deck chair, feet playing in the morning sand I take in the entirety of this place. It is 7am and the monkeys own the cliffs enjoying this sought after spot in the cool of the morning, rumbling with each other. At 8am they lend the rocks to the climbers who have an abundance of choice negotiating themselves up the cliffs. The climbers are brown and tanned, all fit and healthy. They are European, American, South American and Asian. If they are not climbing they talk climbing.

Ton Sai Beach is a beautiful part of the world. Sitting on my chair I watch the campers arise, stretching out the sleep of the night, contemplating the day. The ocean is inviting with shades of green and blue. The water clear. A lone swimmer owns this part of the ocean doing laps along the beach. In the distance the horizon is painted with other islands.

I smell the morning smells, spices cooking breakfast, a hint of burnt fuel from a distant long boat. Most boats are still at this hour. They sit on the beach waiting for the day to start. A small Thai flag flies on each boat, flapping in the morning wind. The air is fresh and the sky is blue. I sit in the shade of the cliffs above, under a tree a few metres from the water. Miniature waves crash the shore; a relaxing repetition. I look up at the cliffs to my left, orange and grey, stalagmites hanging down and I feel inspired. I don’t want to leave.

The food is cheap and delicious. Tom Yum, Pad Thai, Green Curry. Sitting on the deck chair down wind from the food stands means an early lunch. Always spoiled for choice it is often the hardest decision of the day.

As the day grows the sun pears over the cliffs above hitting the sand below. The climbers call it a day and the sunbathers emerge. The water is warm and clear however a little rocky underneath. This is not the best beach of the area. That honour probably goes to West Railay Beach, a ten minute walk over and around rocks from Ton Sai. That is a beach of tourists and the vibe and body shape changes significantly between the two.

There are no ATM’s on Ton Sai and the accommodation is primarily for the budget traveller. There are options on the beach but most accommodation is 100 metres back. Many bungalows have no electricity in the day. Most toilets don’t have flushes; self flushing with small buckets of water the alternative. The beach is lined with bars, many basic made of rattan and bamboo. The bars are open to the world, no walls in the way. Hammocks and cushions the furniture of choice. They fill at night where tanned locals perform fire shows, Bob Marley blares and travellers chat about their day, planning tomorrow. All of a sudden everyone looks up. A base jumper leaps off the cliff above, reaching the ground in seconds, to cheers and applause.

I sit on the beach at peace, feeling lucky and content. With a cool breeze on my face I think to myself that this has to be my perfect beach holiday.