My displaced memories

It’s been almost a year since I left Vietnam.

I was so yearning for a new life, a new routine, going back to work, milder temperature, being closer to our families and friends…and I’ve got it all.

Yet at every sign of Vietnam, it is just heart wrenching. A smell, any iconic object or red flag, can literally bury me like an avalanche of nostalgia and memories, of which I become aware just the exact moment I randomly come across it.

I am realizing I wiped away 4 years of my life in a day, and every time something turns on a memory or revive a feeling, I can’t help but feel lost and devastated. Like I wake up all of a sudden and I am forced to acknowledge that it was not just a dream, that just a few months ago I called that place home, and for a long time. And I won’t probably be seeing it again for the next 10 years or more. When nothing will ever be the same as it is crystallized in my memories.

The thing is, where do I put all of that in this new life?

Everything I learned, loved and hated, all the things that shocked me in the first place and I was eventually used to, my routines, my new taste for food, my people, my own self in that life.       .

Where did it all go, and how could I reconcile these two chapters of my life?

Princess Sissi is next

Mapping out all Asian restaurants in town is clearly not enough, keeping in touch with the people I shared the experience with either. But it looks like this is all I am left with. And I am carrying such a heavy luggage which needs a collocation, and cannot just be left abandoned in a remote corner of my mind.

Since we moved to Vienna every little thing has been a readjustment, most of the time in a good way, but it still required a process. Walking through the neat and tidy streets of the Imperial city, wearing boots with fur and winter clothes after 4 years, being exposed to new sounds and faces. The clear sky and the impressive daylight. Losing all my points of reference and what with a lot of work and years of processing became my neighborhood, my crew, my new place in the world.

…guess where

And now that the process is completed and we are all settled, that tangle of emotions and memories still stays, and seems to have no place in this new life.

I find it very difficult to bring up any Vietnam-related topic with my new acquaintances. Every time, I feel like I am just telling another expat story no one is interested in, something which belongs to the past, and it doesn’t really matter to the person I am now.

Most of the time Hanoi doesn’t even have a clear collocation in people’s mind. People have no idea how it looks like, and it is so reductive and belittling to describe it over and over again, with the same stupid metaphors and images which make everybody laugh or amaze, with the only purpose of keeping the small talk going.

I feel like I just give references that put people in a familiar frame to act like they empathize with me. But at the end of the day, any reaction turns out to be so meaningless to my need of bridging the gap and alleviate that sense of loneliness that comes with being the only one knowing where I belong and come from, and what this big move and settlement has been really about.

I should have given people more chances probably, trusting their sensitivity, embracing their comments and genuine curiosity. But every time, when we suddenly jumped to any other trivial topic, I felt so miserable and lonely that I’ve learned to just skip it altogether.

All in all we just met, why should anybody really care? Would I, the other way around?

In the beginning I was relying on the evocative power of things to feel somehow closer to those days. Material stuff can be such a repository of memories, and this was very clear when I had an empty house to fill.

This made me think of that time I went to visit a couple who have been living in Africa for 25 years before moving to Hanoi, while I was still there. I was so impressed and felt so disconnected in their French colonial villa in Tay Ho, full of African colorful fabrics, sculptures, crafts and paintings. I wandered of how lost they felt, from a desert to an overpopulated city, from all those bright colors to the many shades of gray in Hanoi, from the silence and the sounds of nature to the constant honking.

And then, our stuff came and we found ourselves in a Viennese Zinshaus with crystal chandelier and a marble fireplace, decorated with tropical cushions and bamboo rugs. And it seemed to be the only way to make it feel homey. To make it feel our place.

But as time goes by, I need something more than a piece of furniture to remind me of what it’s been like.

This move happened while I was still in the process of reconciling myself with the person I was before leaving my country to live abroad, before giving up the only job I was skilled for and passionate about, and eventually become a stay at home mom. And now I fear I am letting go one other part of me, and I am so not ready to lose one more piece of my identity. I need to hold onto it, or I will never be able to feel like myself, even the dullest version of myself, in whatever context in this new life. And to find a way to the people that have always been there either, to make them feel I am still here for them, without having to pretend I am keeping it together while all my certainties have collapsed one after another. I need to reminisce, and cherish those memories to stay true to myself.

I am still in touch with my Hanoian friends, and it’s been so relieving to feel their compassion and understanding while they were going through a relocation themselves. But I also wonder how long it will be before our memories together will be so blurry and distant that we will no longer see the point of catching up regularly to hear what’s going on in our new lives. Or sharing a google photo anniversary. Before there will be too much life setting us apart.

“When there will be no common fate, we are just going hand in hand to dissipate our collective memory”

And in the meantime, life is going on so differently, and I am fully absorbed in my new roles and responsibilities. And I am so grateful for how much easier this life is and for my growing family, but it seems so difficult to explain that one thing does not exclude the other. That those 4 years were an inside journey and a concentration of life that will leave a mark forever, that you would never go back but you have hated as well as loved that place and it still means the world to you.

And I am scared that leaving an entire world behind no one around me knows about, will eventually disconnect me from what I really feel and care about. That together with such an intense experience coming to an end, something crucial – and ultimately my authenticity and true essence – will be lost on the way.

And I have nothing but a painful feeling of disconnection and a knot of misplaced emotions to keep those memories alive.

Revealing Tokyo

Last month we have been to Japan. Leaving from Vietnam, and returning here, was like a time machine trip. Tokyo is futuristic, you feel like you’ve been thrown forward through time as soon as you land and visit the toilet at the airport, and you don’t understand how to flush or get a piece of toilet paper, while you are pleased by the heated seat. Everything is super functional, neat and untainted, I felt almost uncomfortable when I had to throw away a dripping cup of coffee. They have dedicated trash bins also for liquids leftovers. And there are not so many trash bins around, you can carry your garbage for miles while looking for a place to get rid of it, which doesn’t mean you see any possible human sign along the street.

…I messed up

Immaculate taxi (and geisha on board!)

At the airport, they have dedicated officers managing the immigration line: people employed to provide information on which forms to fill out and how, and address visitors to the quickest line politely. In Japan you see commuters waiting in line to board the metro, even rushing is forbidden. They have the most sophisticated railways in the world, trains look literally like bullets, gliding from the space into the platform. When you hail a taxi the door opens by magic, – it is controlled by the driver and it takes time to realize it! – there are crocheted covers over each back seat, and taxi drivers wear white gloves. There are pedestrians crossing guards wearing a uniform and helping people to go from a side of a building to the other. At every intersection, you see thousands people marching all together in a huge organic mass, and there are lanes also for pedestrians walking in opposite directions (not sure there is a universal rule on keeping the right or the left, or maybe I am just not able to follow it, but I found myself walking upstream many times totally lost!). There are convenience stores literally every 30 meters, selling any kind of snacks, bakery products, soft drinks, basic household items, personal care products and underwear.

Everything runs like clockwork, everything is so efficient and alluring. And intimidating somehow.

By contrast, all this discipline and austerity can be outrageously interrupted every now and then by a bizarre owl-themed café, a funky group of cosplay girls, a flashy cartoon-style billboard, or a string of puppets’ vending machines. And every time you get into a convenience shop, you get mesmerized in front of the abundance of all those useless, silly and fanciful gadgets, while a ridiculous jingle plays in the background.

Tokyo seems to be so self-deprecating sometimes, telling you that maybe these Japanese are much more human, off the grid and playful than you could ever imagine.

But to me, still impenetrable. Like all Asians I would say, putting together all my experiences across the continent.

Robot Restaurant

Akihabara

Never seen anybody succeeding by the way

Tokyo is unquestionably amazing, but gave me a sense of imperviousness and “inhumanity” in a way. It’s certainly welcoming, but still emotionally detached. Everything runs through such a sophisticated and sometimes counter-intuitive machine, that you can feel really frustrated and rejected while approaching as a newcomer, despite the proverbial and proven kindness of its people. You can clearly capture a kind of “urban atomisation”, perceiving all the loneliness of its workaholic and well-groomed citizens, and the isolation of young generations, who spend their free time staring at a screen in a video game arcade. While the elders are largely abandoned and neglected. There is a specific Japanese word referring to the phenomenon of people dying alone and remaining undiscovered for a long period of time: “Kodokushi”.

Coming from this land of no rules, we noticed that we are no longer used to any kind of restriction, and we felt quite uncomfortable trying to follow this Japanese rigid etiquette. Here in Vietnam, we don’t recycle anything, I felt so guilty every time I had to throw away a piece of plastic at the beginning, until I got used to the whatever-bin. No matter the traffic light, you just cross the road – together with your fingers – very slowly, trying to be predictable so that traffic flows around you. People are totally missing the concept of a queue together with any idea of civic responsability, you don’t need to book to have dinner or to go to the hairdresser. Whatever museum or touristic site you want to visit, you just get your paper ticket at the cashier and get straight in. No QR codes, no documents for renting a motorbike and driving either, no public transport or traffic signals…yeah, all in all we lead such a wild life here.

So, then, after 10 days of amazement, we got back to Hanoi and we “lined up” for the visa checking, in the usual messy crowd. There are not many tourists in Vietnam this time of the year, so every experience is very “Vietnamese”. We saw again the carton boxes on the luggage belt – yes, most of the people here don’t use proper suitcases, especially the ones that are involved in this crazy and unregulated trade with Russia (many Vietnamese commute weekly to Russia to collect and import to Vietnam any kind of goods like cosmetics, personal care products, food and clothing…). Then we got out of the airport in the drizzle and grabbed a taxi by chance, as usual. No line, no taxi station, we just raised our hand and wait until we were lucky enough that nobody on the sidewalk took the cab that was approaching towards us.

Getting closer to the city center, we went through the banana plantations right outside the airport, we saw again the conical hats, the motorbikes, the narrow gallery houses, the rubbish dumps…we spotted the chickens and we ran into people in their panda-patterns pajamas, we went through that grey shade of Hanoi and all those splashes of colors…we heard again that pesky and constant beeping, we smelled the lake while approaching Tay Ho…

So grayish, so colorful

All of a sudden I realized that that feeling of familiarity and reassurance pervading all my senses had a specific emotional connotation: I was just back home.

I figured out how many connections I have with this city after 15 months spent here. And I remember how this felt unlikely to happen when I first arrived. Settling down in Hanoi, rather than Tokyo, maybe is not easier nor less shocking. You are a foreigner in a very foreign land. But that moment, brought up how that painful process is finally completed here.

There are so many sites in this city which remind me of specific and meaningful episodes, as well as places that are just part of my daily routines. Many insignificant but reiterated moments connected to some certain spots, not remarkable to anybody but me. I have so many memories associated with the place where they happened all over this town, that my collection is finally wide enough to call this place “home”.

 

This is how most of the petrol stations look like in Hanoi, and this is my “petrol guy”, he knows I want a full tank and he always checks carefully on my motorbike and pumps my tires if needed.This is my office – where I re-invented myself, and against all odds, I became a “travel consultant” and a trusted South East Asia’s expert among my demanding clients.This is the place where I was googling “pregnancy test in Vietnamese”. I learnt that luckily they use a universal word for that: “Quick test”. It was such a memorable day.I have a special relationship with this mending place: it was part of my culture shock at the beginning. The lady was always sleeping on a deck chair when I had to drop my stuff, but then she surprised me: she can’t speak any English, but she’s always understood my requests, altering many clothes of ours perfectly, for very little money. I end up paying double price to tip her every time, just because of her smile and kindness.This is the place where I spotted a rat walking on a wire for the first time. Guess my worst nightmare since then.This is our balcony, I’ve always dreamt of a terrace with a view. This peaceful view – here at its best, in a rare clear and sunny day – made my stay in Hanoi, being a daily getaway from the hustle of this city.This lady has probably spent her all life here, selling these Bo Bia Banh snacks. In the last year, she saw me passing by any given day at the same time, but I thought she was not really “seeing” me, even if our eyes met across many times. Until one day, when I was stuck in traffic next to her, and she smiled at me and said “hello”.After many attempts I found my trusted hair dresser in Hanoi: Mr Quyen calls me “my friend” and is able to treat my frizzy hair, that are pretty uncommon out here. He knows that 2 shampoo is enough for me (a shampoo in Vietnam can take over 45 minutes while you lay down horizontally and you get a head massage and 4 washings…) and he found the perfect copper nuance for my hair. As per many people, pizza is much more than food to me, it can really turn a bad day around. I am so grateful to this Belgian guy. I have a direct chat with the waitress, she already knows what and where to deliver. And when we decide to have pizza at the restaurant, we are in good company…

“Pizza Belga” (though very Neapolitan)

Pizza with a view

On my way to the office, there is this small and busy market, it soon became my enjoyable slight detour. I used to do the same with the Colosseum in Rome, trying to pass by even when it was not exactly on my way, just to enjoy its majesty for a little while. It is not exactly the same, but a few seconds through the buzz and the colorful groceries it’s a great start of the day.

 

How long does it take for a (very unfamiliar) new place to feel like “home”? For Vietnam to this lost little girl? I would’ve said “it’s never, ever gonna happen”. But then time just runs its course, you can stand the heat and you can turn off Google maps.

I don’t know how long I will be staying in Hanoi, but I know that having a memory lane to walk down, is a bond forever. And whenever I will come back, no matter how many skyscrapers, highways and metro lines have been built, I’ll feel right back home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Signs of TET

One of the reasons why I love Vietnam, is the positive and optimistic vibes which seem to permeate all aspects of daily life. Vietnamese people are joyful, full of hopes for the future of the country, and always up to celebrate for any reason. Besides birthdays and weddings, I have seen many festivals and sometimes unexpected occasions for which I saw them very involved in celebrating somehow: Vietnamese Women’s day, Mid-Autumn Festival, Fool Moon Festival, Reunification Day, Independence Day, Valentine’s Day, Vietnam Under 23 Asian Cup’s semifinal victory…

This was insane, they celebrated for an entire week…what would they do for a World Cup win?!

Dragon dance performed all around the city for Mid-Autumn Festival

Valentine’s Day

Some days you realize that you live in a Communist country – “The Great President Ho Chi Minh will live forever in our cause”

It’s not only about consumerism, like in Europe, they don’t have such a developed merchandising for all of these special occasions, and don’t necessarily spend money on these festivities. Celebrating can be also just spending time with your beloved ones, going to a pagoda, visiting uncle Ho’s Mausoleum, burning voting offerings on the street, carrying a flag on your motorbike, hanging around all together…it’s just being happier than usual, enjoying whatever goodness you have in life to the fullest, taking every possible chance to notice how life is beautiful.

Vietnamese are hungry for happiness.

But talking about festivities, nothing matters as TET does. TET (yes, you write it in capital letters) is the annual Vietnamese New Year celebration, known as the Lunar New Year, and occurring in January or February, as per the Chinese calendar and traditions.

It was originally celebrated by Vietnamese farmers to thank the gods for the arrival of spring and it is still considered as the first day of the season. TET is family time, millions of people travel throughout the country to gather in their hometowns with friends and family. In the narrow sense, it is typically celebrated for three days, when specific traditions are observed: the first day is usually spent with close family, the second day is reserved for visiting friends, and the third one is dedicated to teachers who play an important role in people’s lives, and to visit temples and pagodas.

TET is definitely the longest public holiday in Vietnam, and it’s the only period of the year when shops, restaurants and businesses are closed. Most of the country sort of shuts down for about a week. All transportation, flights, trains, bus routes, hotels, are fully booked, the major tourist sites are closed and any commercial activity exceptionally running over those days is way overpriced.

But real “fun” for non-Vietnamese residents happens during the 2 weeks right before TET: it’s a kind of collective madness, you are overwhelmed by a frantic, festive atmosphere, everybody rushes to get ready for the big event, purchasing everything that will be needed for the week off: gifts, groceries, decorations, plants, new clothing… Supermarkets are over stocked with every kind of products, that would be enough to stock up for months of starvation, and you have to line up to buy any basic stuff (and you know, Vietnamese are not the neat ones…). Traffic and pollution increase significantly: people burn mounds of stuff and paper at every corner, and these fumes together with the exhaust emissions, make the air utterly unbreathable.

This is the period of the year when my love and hate feeling for this city reaches the peak, it’s freaking unlivable, but extraordinarily lively: I cannot recall of anything similar or remotely comparable. Maybe also because here in Asia quantities of people and things are in the next range, we cannot “compete” with the chaos generated by 10 millions people in a city, even more in a developing country where rules and penalties still need to be implemented, or factually applied.

Also every house needs to be prepared to welcome the new year properly, in order to attract good fortune for the new year.  A week before TET, all members of the family clean and fix up the house, repairing broken things and replacing old stuff, gardening and decorating the ancestors altars and the whole apartment.

As we have pine trees for Christmas in the West, they have 2 plants in particular that cannot be missed in any house for Lunar New Year: peach brunches and kumquat trees. Peach blossoms are believed to chase away evil spirits and symbolize hope and vitality, while kumquat trees bring good luck and prosperity.

But coming to my favorite tradition, a very creative and playful merchandising is developed every year, featuring the zodiac sign of the new year coming up. Basically you can find any possible gadget or decoration shaped as the figure, and this year we are particularly lucky with the subject: we are welcoming the Year of the Pig.

See following my on the go-bad quality-pics gallery, put together over the last month: getting distracted really helped me to survive while stuck in traffic choking, or trying to run any errand during those weeks of madness…and I felt the magic, anyways. Hope this can give you a hint of TET, from a healthy distance.

TET market in the Old Quarter

You need to put a Pig at every doorstep

Majestic

Flower Market in Au co

TET blossoms

How did you think they carried the trees?

City decorations

Some gardening masterpieces

Every building is decorated with yellow and red “Chuc mung nam moi” wishes (Happy new year)

Taking TET seriously at the office

Burning paper offerings at every corner

At the hospital

At the supermarket

Hanoi has been ranked as the most polluted city in the world during TET

Get me out of here

Around the city

Walking pig

Vietnamese don’t care (?)

“It is not our stress that kills us, it is our reaction to it.” – Dr. Hans Selye

Wow, mind-blowing. Trivial you’ll say. Except that becoming aware of that reaction and learn how to control it is not as simple as a stupid quote, as everyone’s probably experienced.

Sometimes stress turns us into short-sighted people, we can only see how busy we are, how difficult it is to control and deliver what our positions and status require. People have over-responsibilities, work a lot, are behind schedule by definition, don’t have time, feel the pressure. I know how short is the step between looking at what you are doing from a healthy and proper distance, and feeling like the future of the world lies in your hands. And being overwhelmed does not help to put things in perspective and stop sweating the small stuff. It’s a very common condition and I fully understand the feeling, even if my mood is totally different in this moment of my life. I am over-skilled for my job to be honest, it’s quite easy to deliver what people are expecting from me, and – more importantly- what I expect from myself, this round. It’s a transitional phase, I simply don’t care. Which puts me in the perfect condition for a pointless speculation.

And so, here is my gross generalization about Vietnamese mild temper and social interactions among strangers, in Vietnam.

Spending most of my time surrounded by the Vietnamese is such a thought-provoking condition, again. You know, the Zen masters. The poker-face professionals. They remind me of flight attendants sometimes. People who look cool as a cucumber whether they are involved in a car accident and it’s clearly not their fault, a client cancels a reservation the day before the departure, or it’s raining cats and dogs and they cannot leave the office for hours.

After one year spent here, I haven’t identified any trigger which would at least bother a Vietnamese. They never show the anger – which doesn’t mean they don’t feel it (maybe) – and look very sympathetic and agreeable: most of the times they appear to answer “yes” to any request. Which might be a polite way of reassuring you that they care and they are listening attentively, or maybe just a confirmation of what you were afraid of:  “Yes, I am not getting anything of what you are saying, indeed”.

Vietnamese winning strategy

On the other side, someone told me that the Vietnamese are considered the only “Latin-Asian people”, meaning that there are a lot of characteristics and values that we share as populations: they are warm, energetic, industrious, friendly, tied to the family, they respect the elders, are easy-going,  have a sense of humor and an easy smile. I find this definition extremely fitting actually: I really don’t think that these people are kind of “emotional resilient” or cold, on the contrary, many times I figured out that it was just a matter of face expression, gestures and tone of voice. Though this “neutral attitude” is quite unfamiliar for an Italian from the South, considering how expressive we are instead. Thinking about how comprehensive and meaningful is our body language, how our intonation expresses different shades of meaning, I am afraid that beyond the very limited vocabulary that we share, they get like 50% of whatever I intend to say, and vice versa.

Today my colleague dropped the iPhone, a few days after she had the screen fixed, and I was surprised to see her face once she picked it up and found it was broken again. Nothing. She was smiling, and she just said with a flat intonation “Aw, the screen is smashed”, without even mentioning the recent reparation.

A few months ago I have been to Nha Trang for a weekend on the beach, and I was so disappointed when a typhoon made landfall as soon as we got to our dream resort. I had been waiting for that weekend for months, to let the dry season begin, but in the end it turned into a nightmare: the storm was so ruthless and scary, the island was flooded, many trees felt down, we couldn’t access our open air toilet, we couldn’t take a dip and the sun didn’t show up for a second…I discussed with the staff arguing that they put us in danger and shouldn’t allow clients to get to the island with such an announced storm approaching, I wrote a bad review and all those stuff that angry clients are so good at doing. There were Vietnamese people on the island of course, and you know what they were doing while we were walking through the mud cursing and trying to get to the reception? They were lying on the beach under the rain, picking and eating the coconuts that came down with the storm, with kids playing around totally undisturbed.

A few minutes before the Apocalypse

During the monsoon season – and by the way, for the record, is there any dry season here? Any chance we are not wet for some reason, any time? – we got stuck at the office every other day while the city was completely flooded, motorbike was not safe for long distances (questionable for real Vietnamese…), traffic was totally congested, Grab taxi were too expensive and we basically just had to wait for the rain to stop or to get weaker at least.

Real Vietnamese

You know, you have many things to do once you arrive home, you are tired after a day at work, impatient and nervous…and you know what some Vietnamese were doing while waiting at the entrance of our building? They were exercising, totally relaxed. I was too upset to join, but that moment was so eye-opening: why stressing out if we all cannot do anything but waiting?

There is something magical in this adaptation process, every time I feel like exploding, squeezed to the last drop, so miserable and overwhelmed, the epiphany happens, and a new unexplored way to cope with the circumstances helps me to sort it all out.

Don’t stress out

Open air gym session, very popular in Hanoi

I work as a travel consultant, which unfortunately results into dealing with Western tourists’ rudeness and pretentiousness. It happened many times that a client threaten to SUE me because of some minor changes within the agreed itinerary (I would be so curious to see which charges I should face…), e.g. a change in hotel accommodation, a domestic flight rescheduled, a different appointment with the driver or a different guide…every time I am struggling and pushing myself beyond my limit to keep the distance, and unfortunately not always succeeding.

My boss and co-workers, that are much more involved than me in the job, since they own the business and have their name on the reviews, never react or get defensive when attacked, even when people are really offensive and aggressive, complaints are totally unreasonable and come from very intolerant and ignorant persons. I’ve never seen them offended, they reply politely and try to find a solution (sometimes they don’t get the point and the solution can get the situation even worst, but this is another story…), and they never take it personally. And when they hang up the phone and drop the entitlement, you realize that it was for real: they don’t even release the tension, no curses, not a 4 letter word!

In this hectic city of 9 millions people where roads have no rules and no lanes (traffic accidents killed aprox 8.000 people per year in Vietnam), you witness many accidents going around, but surprisingly never see people fighting, arguing or yelling at each other. People fall, check and rearrange the cargo, if any (you can imagine when they are carrying fruits and veggies…) and hop back on the motorbike, smiling at each other, like nothing happened. Ok, might be because nobody owns an insurance or a driving license, so you’d better shake your hands and keep going, but it’s still impressive how this people are able to avoid any kind of confrontation, even when they would have a point.

Carrying fruits and veggies…

Papaya and…some tubers

Apples and mango…

And if over-reacting and freaking out require massive doses of energies and cause stress itself, we should all learn from these guys. Maybe practicing Tai Chi, studying the Confucianism or just by osmosis, I don’t know, but they just don’t seem to control themselves. It is something deeper: they ARE genuinely unflappable, as simple as that.

Hope I am absorbing and learning somehow to implement this “filter” and turn it on while coping with everyday crap as much as possible, I’ve put it under the file: “be more Vietnamese”.

Outnumbered

This topic is quite sensitive and controversial, and made me think a lot recently. About my unaware sense of superiority maybe, or in other words, that certainty that you will be “recognized” for your popular (?) home country. And on the other side, about my ability to mingle and to adapt to a new situation of which – on the contrary – I have always prided myself on.

This post will probably sound ridiculous and lamer one sentence after another to expat people, but this is the perspective of somebody living overseas for the first time, still trying to fit in this unplanned life. This is my personal path, full of all those clichés that I am glad everybody on my way has already gone through. These are my days of amazement and wonder, good for them if they are already over this, and sometimes don’t even remember how it feels.

Then, luckily, I have a blog to naively admit that I am missing biscuits by a specific brand for breakfast, that going home just once or twice per year to see my relatives and my friends is a terrifying perspective that I don’t think will change, and that I am still not used to this weather. I am going through my very first tropical seasons, I just found out what does “moldy March” mean, how is it when nothing ever dries, your bed and your clothes are always clammy, and you feel like sweaty after a gym session trying to fall asleep. When there is no way to tame the frizz and have your hair in a decent shape. How the heat peak feels like in June, and how ruthless is the monsoon rain in July. This is the first time that I have to point things while shopping, that I wear a pollution mask, and I have to make sure that I wrote down the address properly before taking a taxi. That I don’t have coins but dozens of worthless banknotes in my wallet, that I don’t have a bidet in my bathroom, but I have a huge apartment which – ironically – took more time and futile decorations than ever to make homey. That I am surrounded by people who sometimes don’t even know where Italy is, and have never heard of my home town. I mean, if I say “Napoli”, how come that they don’t reply straight away “pizza, mafia, Pulcinella, Vesuvio, Sorrento, Capri” or whatever? If I say “Colosseum”, how can they really not visualize the place?

It does happen here, and I am just wondering why I took for granted that they should know about that. How many places, dishes, historical events, as crucial and magnificent as what we have in Europe, I completely ignore about Asia?

“Moldy March” (I would say “moldy quarter” actually…)

They learn soon how to deal with monsoon rain…

…and become Monsoon Ninja

This is 1€ in Vietnam

Napoli: I don’t know how many times I showed this pic to help people recall, but…

Here in Hanoi, for the first time in my life, I am experiencing the feeling of being outnumbered. The black sheep, the only one “different”. It is not like when you were a teenager and you suffered from not being accepted into the group. Or at work in your home country, when you could deal with people of 10 different nationalities in one day, and you were happy with the international environment of your company. It is not even like when you go on holiday, and luckily sometimes happens that you are the only one from your country. Or when you are the dissenting voice about a song or a trend that everybody loves but you hate.

Since I am spending most of my time in a 100% Vietnamese environment at work, it happens many times that I feel completely left out, misunderstood and somehow “disturbing”. Don’t get me wrong, they are not doing anything to make me feel like that. Quite the opposite, they took me in, trying to find any possible topic or joke to involve me in their discussions, despite the language is an evident barrier to go beyond the small talk. But I am just not like them, as I am just not like master expats who have been living overseas for decades.

You bring a can of tuna to the office for lunch, and maybe if you pulled out of your bag a dead man cut into pieces you would make less waves. They have never seen it. It’s so weird what you are eating, that they could stare at you all through lunch, asking any possible question about the mysterious food: what is it? Where did you take it? How much is it? How often do you have it for lunch in Italy? Do they sell it in the expat district in Hanoi? Isn’t it too light together with a salad as a main for lunch? Why don’t you eat rice and pork instead? And on top of that, you are eating it with a fork that you brought from home, which makes the scene even more peculiar and hilarious. They use to eat fruit with salt, and they don’t expect you to refuse to season it. They go nap on the sofa after lunch, while I usually go out for a stroll, weather permitting. And they are concerned that I am not carrying the umbrella to cover from the sun, as actually I am not that scared of getting tanned eventually. I am exposed to a stream of indistinct sounds all day long, as they speak in Vietnamese in the office of course. And putting myself in their shoes, why should they all bother to switch to another language for just one person?

Cutlery at the office…

Fruit with salt, favorite snack at the office

Fruit at the restaurant

This doesn’t mean that we don’t have our conversations, mainly focused on me and my unusual behaviors of course.

Vietnamese people love gossip and are very curious, sometimes in an awkward way, having in mind Western social norms, needless to say. It would never happen at home that somebody asks how much you weigh. But for them, this is just a personal question to get closer to you and show they care, especially when you look skinny or overweight. Which are exactly the most inconvenient cases to ask such a question for us. They naively ask you about your husband’s salary, or why your boyfriend is not your husband, and you still don’t have kids at 33 yo. And how much you or your husband’s company is paying for your apartment rental.

Even my body shape doesn’t go unnoticed. I have been told all my life that I am thin, but I can wear an XL here, with long sleeves still too short, and I cannot fit in Vietnamese socks for women. If I enter a local women’s clothing shop, usually sales girls are impressed with my size, and every morning I take the elevator with 10 Vietnamese, I feel very uncomfortable with it actually.

All in all, this reversal of perspective is largely the funniest, most inspiring, enlightening and challenging aspect of this experience. Re-consider things that you took for granted your whole life, learn how to feel comfortable with a distinctiveness which is showing up as such for the first time, and sometimes you were unaware of.

I don’t want to sound dramatic, I am not suffering, nor I am pissed off at people or bothered by being misunderstood. Of course it happens sometimes. Both with expats and local people. But I am not feeling isolated and miserable in a desperate need for acceptance. Our background is different, I am fine with that, I gained my self-confidence, I am able to appreciate other people way of living, and to re-consider mine as well. I just need to learn how to continue to benefit from a sense of belonging to something that is still there, but it’s so far away that sometimes I feel like I’ve been put on another planet. I am just afraid that I am shutting myself off here somehow, not being able to make the most of this diversity all the way. Acting just like the Vietnamese expat version of me, since nobody would understand otherwise.

Shopping and consumption: keeping pace with economic growth?

Since in my previous life I was a passionate marketer, one of my favorite activities here, especially at the beginning, was checking out the stores, exploring any grocery, small shop, convenience store, market, and supermarket, just for the sake of assessing products available, retail environments and shoppers habits.

I went through the process that bring a new commercial or a new product to life many times, therefore I believe that what is actually hitting the shelf, together with the way it’s advertised, can tell you a lot about population consumption habits and lifestyle, value system, culture, and even sense of humor. And on the other hand, also on what global companies are trying to introduce into such an emerging market, generating new needs and demand for brand new products.

First surprise was that super/hypermarkets account for nearly 10% in Vietnam, since Vietnamese shoppers still prefer to shop at small local stores or at grocery markets early in the morning, having personal conversations with the owners, or sometimes they just buy from street vendors, without even getting off their motorbikes. Hanoi looks like a huge village actually, walking around you see people saying hello to each other or calling out their fellows -“Em oi!”- from a distance. People just don’t look ready for the aseptic experience of a modern retail environment, with endless corridors of shelves packed with plenty of useless variants of each commodity, wrapped in tons of plastic packaging.

Typical Mini Market, pretty common in Hanoi

There are still many butchers like this one in Hanoi…

We could argue that global mass brand are still luxury products for Vietnamese people, considering the average salary here, and that Western firms still cannot compete with the traditional trade, where there is no middle men to increase the price. But the thing is that I don’t see them interested at all in this “upgrade” of products and shopping experience.

But anyways, things are moving fast out here: in the last couple of years, the urbanization together with the rise of the middle class, brought the first franchising firms and shopping malls in Hanoi . And it’s impressive how these structures appear like white elephants, soulless and completely disconnected from the environment. And from the population.

I have been to the Royal City Mega Mall, one of the biggest and most luxurious compound which has been built in 2016 on the outskirt of Hanoi, 45 minutes away from the city center, and I was almost scary by the ghostly atmosphere. Yet those huge neoclassical statues featuring racing horses at the entrance should herald a new era of growth and prosperity. But as it turns out, the place was totally empty.

Scary

Mango new opening, 50% off and not a single client (lucky me!)

Shopping mall at rush hour in Cau Giay, a new affluent neighborhood in Hanoi

Another eye-sore has just been built from scratch in Tay Ho, literally in a blink of an eye. Every morning I pass by the building and I am exposed to new awfulness: new columns, new marble panels, new golden capitals, new luxury decorations, a new piece of the body for the glorious statue placed in the facade…

Now bidding is open for the big players to secure the best spot for their shops within the building, and I am just figuring the queue at the opening…

Almost done, damn it…

This country is in need of architects by the way…

Having said that, for the new comers, these first glimmers of globalization represent a blessing, considering that the combination of cultural factors and shopping habits make pretty tough to find even the most basic stuff in Hanoi. I had to visit at least 4/5 shops to put together my shopping list, and still with some missing items at the beginning. But luckily I found my solace in walking through the aisles of the supermarkets and discovering a bunch of products that I have never seen before, being even more intrigued by Vietnamese versions of global products, and figuring the ratio behind those adaptations. Not to mention the advertising: I was mesmerized by TV commercials, with all those jingles, 80’s style dances and humanized animals.

Downy, what the hell

Vinamilk

Always super-fake look and feel

Fancy a spring roll?

In Vietnam, there are still whole categories of basic products that people seem unaware of, and markets that companies should create from scratch: my colleagues, that are young, graduated and have a steady and well paid job, don’t see the point in taking a pill when you have your period, or a pain killer for the headache. I was not able to buy some basic stuff at a pharmacy, and I asked one of them to come with me to the shop, since the pharmacist didn’t get what I meant for “aspirin”, and non-prescription drugs were not on display. In the end they had to dig among the untouched stock to find my OTC products, and I paid 1/10 of the European price, for the same thing, just with a less sophisticated packaging!

Can you imagine the market potential, in a country of 100 million people? How long will it take before pharma giants will start to brainwash these people in order to convince them that they need that pill to feel better? Are they doing the job already, without succeeding?

First contrived Adv for OTC products…

Typical pharmacy in Hanoi

Actually Vietnam is a hot country for every business today, and top players definetely identify this market as a high-potential one, especially when it comes to fast consumer goods. And that’s not hard to believe.

In fact, from what I’ve seen in Europe, almost every consumer goods category is basically saturated, and companies are just stealing market share from each other, but there is no more room to really enlarge the cake. Over the last years, consumer marketing was mainly about micro-segmentation, that brought to life a plethora of new variants based on flavors/ flowers/ fruits/ smell/ less or more something/ useless benefits and hundreds combinations of them, and just few remarkable innovations. Maybe it’s just because after 30 years there is not much more to say about a shampoo, or the existing and acceptable flavors and textures of a toothpaste have just been all explored. Neither there is a significant incremental group of new consumers willing to buy those products or to intensify the frequency and the occasions of consumption.

On the contrary, Vietnam is still a green field from a marketing perspective. I am glad that moving to this side of the world, I am basically 20 years back in time to see whether and how all these bullshit will find their way into the market. And how top companies will try to make them appealing to these new consumers, developing brilliant creative ideas for their marketing campaigns.

I have 4 years ahead to closely monitor the process, but my gut feeling is that the history is not written. This country is quite unique for so many reasons, and I am not sure that there will be a smooth, nor fast transition to consumerism as a straightforward result of GDP growth. Who knows, maybe Vietnam will give them a run for their money.

 

1. Developed based on a consumer insight, and combining this with what they have ready in their global portfolio or it’s more profitable to produce and launch in a market of course. And this is why I found this job so fascinating.

2. It’s an extreme simplification and I know the topic is quite controversial and involves many other tools of what is called “marketing mix”, plus the profitability of the business, which is always what is leading a company. If anyone has a Marketing job to offer, at your disposal for further discussions!

 

Things I enjoy the most

I promised myself that I wouldn’t start listing things in this blog, as I am trying to get rid of that way of approaching any issue or situation as I used to do with a work task. But actually I found all those lists on the internet about Vietnam and South East Asia so funny and educational, that I will make an exception. Plus I desperately need to focus on positive things today, as I am sweltering more than ever, feeling homesick, lonely and fed up with so many things. They say writing is therapeutic…

So, starting from the little things, let’s be enthusiastic for a while: here is a short list of what I enjoy the most in my Hanoian life – and a lot of time will pass before listing the worst, I swear!

Flower street vendors

Generally speaking, the urban landscape is not a pleasant sight in Hanoi. But sometimes it is brighten up by women wearing iconic conical hats and carrying around their rusty bikes overloaded with colorful fruits and flowers. Cargoes are arranged like little pieces of art, tidy and piled up in a variety of bright color shades. Lotus flowers, daises, peach and apricot blossoms, roses, pomelo flowers, sunflowers: the city is all adorned by this moving flower vases. And every time that I bump into one of them, is like a refreshing breeze, and I feel so blessed for the experience that I am living. I didn’t expect a fast-developing city with 8 million residents and construction sites everywhere, to preserve this unchanged and authentic charm. I thought that those hats were just an icon from the past, or from the rural regions. And that those street vendors were just a typical photogenic attraction for tourists, in the old city center. But this beauty is real, and it’s all around you.

Check http://loesheerink.com/ for the best street vendors pics

Sunset over Tay Ho

Since sun started to show up again after 3 long months of white sky, almost every day a glorious sunset happens over West Lake. Every day on my way back from work, I pass by the best spot to enjoy the view, perfectly on time. Along the lake, many old people slowly exercise in small groups, the water is so oily and calm that you can forget for a while the hustle and bustle around. Oh it’s so peaceful, that just 3 minutes of that view can make your day. Even the worst day.

Peace

Kind of Tai chi

Kids are all beautiful, but Vietnamese kids…

Banh my, street food for dreams

Have you ever tried this Vietnamese mini baguette?

With 0.80 euro, here you buy this crispy baguette filled with pork, beef or chicken and vegetables. The baguette comes from the French colonization of course, while the filling is very local, and all the ingredients are marinated with a special combination of spices and seasonings. I am still not able to identify them all and I think that each banh my stall owns its  special recipe. But every time it’s a burst of flavor. Big cities are crawling with small banh my moving stalls or fixed booths, as the equipment needed to assemble the ingredients and warm up the baguette is very basic. I find it simply delicious, and it’s the only thing that made me think of setting up a business in my life! Basically my plan is to start cooking classes 6 months before leaving, fine-tune my recipe and find a place in a kind of hipster district in Rome. Then I will soon turn the business in a franchising of course. Every time I have a banh my, my imagination runs on the project, I find myself brainstorming on the name of the place and the menu, figuring the furniture and the decorations of the shop, developing the brand identity and assessing the financials. And dreaming of making loads of money of it.

Not the best stall, but scenic location

Typical plastic stools, not really tall people-friendly 🙂

Caphe sua da

I thought I would miss the Italian espresso a lot in Vietnam, but actually here there is a an excellent and very popular alternative, even more desirable with the heat. The coffee blend is robust and strong, and the condensed milk gives a creamy and sweet touch: the perfect caffeine drink!

Following, some tips for ordering from a very skilled client:

Once you learn the local name, you will probably try to order proudly saying “cafe sua da”: they won’t get it. Maybe there is something wrong with the pronounciation…after many times, I just gave up on this.

Then you would probably say: “Iced coffe with condensed milk, please”: but a question mark will appear on their face.

Third attempt: “Vietnamese White coffe, please”, they will ask: “I?”. They mean “ice” and there is no chance they will ever say the full word. Say “yes”, and then finger crossed, you never know which coffee will be served.

Winning strategy: if you are ordering at the cashier, look for a menu and just put a finger on it. Then they will ask you: “can I repeat the order?”. A big question mark will probably appear on your face, but you will soon get that they are trained to ask this question to any non-Vietnamese, for any order.

Enjoy!

“Cong”, favorite cafetteria

Riding a motorbike

I have been riding a motorbike for 15 years, but in my last years in Italy I was forced to switch to a boring car, given the route to my office was too long and rough for a scooter.

I was missing that sense of freedom, of being nimble weaving through traffic jams and alleys in the open air, and finally, I am hitting the road on 2 wheels again! The day I rented the bike here, took me back in time to when I was 14. Today like yesterday, that motorbike means independence:  you just sit on a saddle, give a little gas… and a bright future lies ahead. Renting a bike here is totally hassle-free, super-cheap, nobody asks for any document or guarantee, and nobody will check you, thanks to your white face (and it’s the only privilege for having this paleface here, I can tell you). And it’s more than one hour of fun every day:  this city is so lively and energetic that just looking at what is happening around while riding, makes you feel incredibly alive. And that, is the only moment when I feel integrated in this huge open air living room where we are spending the day all together. The only moment when I am not outnumbered but just like them, wearing the same pollution mask and the same sun coat not to get burnt, going together with the flow, no matter where we are from. Sometimes you just need the illusion of being part of something to overcome that sense of isolation, when you are half the world away from who you were.

Blending in

Go with the flow

 

 

 

 

Ancestor worship*

Whatever “When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree.” – Vietnamese proverb

Whatever shop, commercial activity or house you enter in Vietnam, you will come across a small altar, either placed at the entrance of the shop, or in a prominent position in the household. It’s the ancestors’ altar, the symbol of a worship that has been an integral part of Vietnamese culture for more than 2000 years.

As I understand it, this worship is based on the belief that people’s soul survive the body after death of course, but it’s not strictly connected to any specific religion. The deceased members of the family are believed to live in another realm, bringing fortune and advice to their descendants. The family members are committed to express their devotion and to honor them in return, for the next three or four generations.

The ancestors are worshiped through daily offerings and rituals, such as burning incense, placing flowers, fresh fruits, sweets and gifts on the altar, or praying and bowing in front of it for a certain number of times. Cigarettes and beer are never missing, maybe to please the ancestors who are still craving these vices from their life on earth. I don’t know if there is any particular reason behind, but “Custas” mini cakes and biscuits are the most popular sweets on display (actually after trying the products, I figured out why they are more likely to be put on an altar, rather than be eaten). By the way, as far as I have seen in my office, food offerings remain there only until the expiration date get close, and are then eaten and replaced with fresh stuff, according to Vietnamese “zero-waste philosophy”.

Special offering at an Italian restaurant…

Custas rulez

Bringing good fortune to the business

Altar in the office

Moreover, the altar is usually decorated with a special citron, known as Buddha Lemon Hand. Since I had never seen this mutant lemon before moving here, I got very curious about the shape and wanted to chop those kind of weird fingers to smell and taste the pulp. This fruit is not available at all grocery stores, surely not at the Westerners’, but it’s pretty common at fruits stalls or within the street vendors’ baskets. Either way, I tried to buy one at a stall, and the lady started yelling at me in Vietnamese like I was asking something very disrespectful and offensive. So I found out that this fruit is clearly just for display within spiritual environments here. Maybe it is not supposed to be eaten or cut at all, and any Vietnamese would buy it for any other purpose or would ever be interested in a tasting.

Buddha’s hand citrons, a lemon gone wilde

Coming back to worship, besides the daily practices, there are many prescribed ceremonies to honor the ancestors on special occasions, like the anniversary of their death, or the Lunar New Year. To mention some, for example, on the last day of every lunar year the ancestors are invited to return home to celebrate Tet holidays with their families. During Tet, all family members visit the graveyards to clean and decorate their tombs, in order to prepare them to welcome the new year. Any remarkable event happening in the family is also shared with the ancestors: whatever harvest, new birth or marriage is celebrated, new offerings are placed on the altar. But also in case of natural disasters or any problem affecting the family, a joss stick is burnt to ask for help and protection from the forefathers.

Burning “ghost money” (aka fake paper banknotes) and paper votive offerings in the street, but also in private yards or in front of the tombs, is another popular tradition, especially over Tet celebration. Once turned into ashes and smoke, these replicas are meant to be transferred to the afterlife in order to cheer up our beloved in their eternal life. The growth of the economy and the consequent broader imaginary of people, in terms of what is desirable and needed to enjoy life to the fullest, brought a fanciful and very funny diversification for paper votive offerings.

It took me while to understand that all those boxes full of paper shapes featuring motorbikes, credit cards, luxury watches, jewels, smartphones, iPads and fancy cars, on sale in the Old Quarter, were not toys for kids, but votive offerings.

Your grand-grand father will love this set!

Either way, beyond the folklore of these customs, I believe this is a very fascinating and meaningful trait of Vietnamese culture, another evidence of their deep-rooted values and unconditional gratefulness, far beyond any God or religion and despite the very young population.

As they say, gratitude is a sign of noble souls.

*Sources: small talk with local people, observation and Google. My apologize for any inaccuracy or misunderstanding.

Everywhere is a bed

Just a few lines of background, as it would be very unfair to convey the idea that Vietnamese people are slackers: they are anything but lazy, actually. Generally speaking, I consider them as very hardworking, with a special mention for women. This is particularly evident in the countryside, where 70% of population still live today: it’s impressive how women, even when looking very old, work in the rice paddies, covered head to toe under the burning sun and bent on crop for hours. Or in water up to thighs, depending on the growth stage of rice. Vietnam is the second exporter of rice in the world, and farm labor is still mainly manual: rice farmers can rely only on water buffalos to plow the soil, the luckiest share one machinery with many other families, for acres of fields. Moreover, in this male-dominated society, women are also in charge of housekeeping , taking care of large families, cooking, raising kids and feeding the animals of the farm. I can only imagine which consequences one day of this life may have on my back pain!

Working hard in Ninh Binh province

Moving to the big cities, in Hanoi, shops are open 7/7 from 7 am to 8 pm and over, you can go to the hairdresser or to the esthetician on Sunday, and in the private sector most of the offices are open on Saturday, and employees are entitled to 12 paid holidays per year. Ok, we could argue on labor productivity and efficiency according to Westerners’ standards, but still, they have a strong work culture.
Anyways, their timings and “routines” at work are quite shoking for an Italian, raised following a set of unwritten rules and social norms that nobody dares to question. So, while I am struggling to change the perspective and accept the way they behave, at the same time, I admire and envy their culture, as an expression of open mind and smartness.
Who said that if you are tired and sleepy, but you are in the office, and you have 5 hours of work to go, you cannot take a short nap to recharge? Why do we take for granted that sales persons must stand waiting for customers all day long? These people have a lot of downtime of course, so what’s wrong with them if they put a cloth on the floor, or – in case they sell clothes – just lay down on fabrics that they have on display, and take some rest?

Ok, now that I looked open minded enough, we can go through my astonishment when on my first day at the office my colleagues kindly invited me to join them on the sofa right after lunch. Or in my early days in Hanoi, when entering a shop and looking around for a sales person, I couldn’t find anyone…at eye level. And I am not only talking about grocery shops, or those “odds and ends” stores, where you typically don’t expect the ultimate shopping experience. Same story when I went to buy an i-Phone, an activity which requires a queue and an appointment in a futuristic space anywhere else. I was in a kind of “Apple Store” (not exactly Steve Job’s concept…) and while I was arguing with the guy about “8” vs ”7”, value for money and performance…out of the blue, somebody from underneath the counter got up and said hello. I leant out of the counter and I saw a bed made of cartons and cloths. Sorry but I couldn’t stop laughing, and luckily the girl didn’t look bothered at all, she just smiled at me. She was actually relaxed after nap time.

You just need a sign with a logo afterall…

People who are spending most of the time on the street, especially when they have a commercial activity, or work as parking attendants or security guards for example, developed a creative talent in putting together any kind of portable bed or solution to nap. Together with the adaptability needed to sleep in any possible position, litterally on any surface. The background helps, as most of the houses here don’t have a proper bedroom, nor they are used to have one bed per person.
And so the motorbike saddle is very popular to lay down, using the steering as a pillow. And with just 2 poles and a net, here you go with a comfy and ready-to-use city-hammock.

Most popular hammock solution – Anyone living in Hanoi, could you please share any info about these vehicles?

I mean…really?

City-hammock, “against the wall” version

He hasn’t move in over 1 hour.

At the market

Mm…should I wake him up or not?

Maybe the other one…mm…no way

Street vendors’ break

It happened many times that I went to pick up the laundry and the lady was sleeping on a deck chair at the entrance, I felt quite uncomfortable waking her up…so in the end I decided that there would be another occasion to pick up the laundry.
This would be totally unacceptable at home, where everybody is always in a hurry, always angry and complaining about traffic, public offices and facilities, people’s incompetence, weather and whatsoever.
I would certainly be outraged and upset if my laundry wasn’t ready by the time the pick-up was planned in my tight schedule.
But this is their country, and you play by their rules. Maybe are better than yours, or at least you can make an effort not to deliberately assume that you are on the right side.
Thank you Vietnam for giving me the chance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sensory overload

If I could express in just one concept the biggest challenge that I had to face over my first six months in Vietnam, I would say “sensory overload”. Maybe it hit me that hard since Hanoi was my first time in South East Asia, a place where all Westerners certainties about how to behave and how a public space should look like are just wiped out, every moment, at every corner. All my senses got overwhelmed by an avalanche of unfamiliar inputs that I was not able to recognize or to frame in any experienced situation.
My first accommodation was located in the old quarter, where my first sight was a lively and dense maze of narrow streets and alleys packed with motorbikes going in every forbidden direction and carrying every possible item/ animal/ number of passengers, chicken and roosters on the loose, food stalls serving meals from 6 am till night, and people living the street as there is no line between private and public life. It was immediately clear that I had to re-think my personal space in the world.
The Hanoians out here are basically spending the day keeping each other company, eating, doing self-pedicure (yes, I would say it’s a public accepted practice, but “the accepted public practices that you wouldn’t expect” might deserve a dedicated post), taking naps in any available spot, eating again, cooking, watching people, or simply looking into the void or at their phone screens, and maybe sometimes selling a piece of the inventory. This last activity is quite hard to figure out when it comes to several “specialties” (each street of the Old Quarter is specialized in a profession or a category of products), for instance the “tape street”, where you can find 10 shops in a row with plenty of rolls of tape in any size on display, that you can assume are not such in high demand. But it looks like they wouldn’t care to enlarge their portfolio, maybe just because that stock is everything they own since ever, those products were passed down through the generations, and it’s part of their identity. But still, they are spending the day sitting by the side of the street, looking not really worried about selling any piece of it, nor bothered to take any action to increase the possibility.

And they look totally carefree and happy. Welcome to Vietnam.

Buttons, anyone?

Grooming

Smell is definitely over stimulated down here. With 5 millions motorbikes hitting the road, the air in Hanoi is so stuffy that after a while hanging around you feel out of breath, like you had a balloon in your lungs, preventing the air to come in properly. Sometimes street barbecues just give a yummy note that would be quite enjoyable, but my sense of self-preservation set my breathe in the anti-pollution mood, and I feel like I am not able to inhale hard, even when the smell is good.
Besides the pollution and the food, this city boasts a wide array of stinks that my nose had never witnessed: sour, pungent, multi-faceted, maybe a combination of rotted and fresh food, and rubbish piled up under the sun for 10 hours, with a touch of standing water plus a hint of some secret ingredients….that put all together create the peculiar Hanoi smell, that words are just not enough to describe.

Coming to sounds, I must say I am from a very loud city, worldwide acknowledged for its noisy inhabitants, and having this benchmark…Hanoi sounds like Spanish quarters after Napoli wins a Champion’s League football match, but all the time, everyday. They have this honking addiction that I found unbearable and very frustrating, especially at the beginning, when I was still looking for a reasonable explanation for everything was happening around. You are on a taxi, you cannot communicate with the driver and the guy is just honking every now and then, even in the unlikely event that there are no cars or motorbikes ahead, or when you take the highway to the airport, just stating that he is passing by, and making you jump out from your seat every time you relax. And you cannot tell him to please stop it, since he wouldn’t even get the point, not to mention the language of course. But in my opinion, being a pedestrian is the most stressful role that you can play on the street: with no sidewalk or clear spot available, if you lose focus for a second you can trip over a basin where people are washing pans and dishes (running water is just for big and fancy restaurants), stumble on a rooster, or on a mound of rubbish. And you walk in the middle of the street, with this continuous honking which should be supposed to advise that a vehicle is approaching…but it’s just the level zero of noise.

On the bright side of this constant over-stimulation, I would definitely mention taste. With a variety of street food, soups, spring rolls, rice and noodles, tropical fruits and vegetables, and ways to prepare meat and fish, Vietnamese cuisine is an explosion of flavor at every bite. Sometimes disappointing, as too strong for an Italian pasta and tomato eater, but as per food, I have to admit that yes, you get used to it. Even if you used to eat max 3 ingredients on average in a dish and you have been taught that you should never mix up meat and fish proteins. Or that you have to cook in different pans to preserve the real flavor of the ingredients, and you were the “plain, please” customer…you end up eating everything together, minced garlic and onions like never before, chilli and spicy, and all those seasoning that you couldn’t even stand the smell. It doesn’t mean that I am not craving for my food, but sometimes (just sometimes) I am able to change the perspective somehow, and guess how tasteless could be an Italian meal for them, and why they need plenty of adds-on when a (almost) authentic Italian dish is served. I never thought I’d enjoy coriander, to me was a kind of parsley tasting more or less like a cleaner, a food ruiner, unfortunately as popular as basel in Italy…but after six months, I love it.

Hope the coriander is just a “starter” in a new stage of adaptation.

It’s all just about getting use to it, they say.

But then, after I proved myself that I can make it, and I took my sensory tolerance to the next level, could we just go back home?

Things I found disgusting just 6 months ago: coriander, fried shallots and fish sauce with chilli