In Transit: Some Delightful Sights
I am posting from Bangkok, where I arrived early Wednesday afternoon, with a few notes about my trip from VN to here. Once the sun came up (6 am, after we’d been on the road 1.5 hours), I was able to pay attention to scenery and culture on the road from Cantho to HoChiMinh. Once at the airport, I had an unusually quick check-in (no line at immigration!), which made the journey even more pleasant. Here are a two highlights.
1. We stopped for breakfast at the Vietnamese version of a highway rest area – a large, open pavilion restaurant with an impossibly huge number of tables and dozens of attentive waitstaff (at 6 am!). The one we stopped at is new – and we were the only customers there. I suspect this restaurant is hoping to attract travelers on the road to/from HoChiMinh, because it has a tasty menu and the cleanest – no, the FANCIEST and cleanest – restrooms I’ve encountered in Vietnam. Actually, they’re way nicer than most restaurant restrooms in the US. And the hand dryers even work – there may be a law against such strong ones in the US, but it was very nice to have dry hands.
While we sat drinking tea (me) and eating breakfast (my companions), I noticed that dozens of young women and men in what seemed like uniforms were passing by on their bicycles. It turns out that they were high school students and they were in uniform. Now, imagine this, those of you who wear women’s clothes: the uniform is a traditional Vietnamese outfit consisting of loose fitting black cotton pants (easy enough to bike in) and the long tunic-like “au doi” that is tight-fitting silk or satin from neck to waist, with long, tight sleeves and high neck, buttoned to top, and then from the waist down, is a split long skirt-like part that goes down between ankles and knees. The side slits are from bottom to waist, so it’s easy enough to walk in one of these, but imagine BIKING in one. The students had hitched the back “flap” of their tunics up under to form a sort of “half flap” that stayed barely out of the rear bike wheel. The front piece they help up out of spokes and pedals with one hand, which was also used to steer. Once you have that picture in mind (tight, long, top; flaps lifted up out of the way), make it 85 degrees and blindingly sunny. Three or four months a year, make it 85-95 degrees and pouring rain. While you’re biking. And did I mention that these uniforms’ tunics were white? Keeping them clean must be an unbelievable chore.
2. Once I got to the airport and figured out where to check in for my flight, I saw that I was in line behind the Vietnamese men’s soccer team, in nifty red track pants and team polo shirts. And let me tell you, these guys are good looking – “hot” is probably the right word. Of course, like any young, athletic celebrities, they know that they are hot – that attitude is apparently some global testosterone code. But if you have to wait in line, well, you might as well enjoy the view.
The advantage, other than aesthetic, of following the team through check in, customs, and immigration is that I could have walked through with contraband, weapons, and the dreaded “liquids and gels” and no one would have noticed me at all. Women giggled and pointed at them. Middle-age men sucked in their tummies and gave the “Hey, man, it’s cool” nod. Kids approached them for pictures and autographs. The immigration officers even broke their usual “Red Army” scowls. I basked in the afterglow, where no one cared that my bag was a few kilos over the weight limit.
1. We stopped for breakfast at the Vietnamese version of a highway rest area – a large, open pavilion restaurant with an impossibly huge number of tables and dozens of attentive waitstaff (at 6 am!). The one we stopped at is new – and we were the only customers there. I suspect this restaurant is hoping to attract travelers on the road to/from HoChiMinh, because it has a tasty menu and the cleanest – no, the FANCIEST and cleanest – restrooms I’ve encountered in Vietnam. Actually, they’re way nicer than most restaurant restrooms in the US. And the hand dryers even work – there may be a law against such strong ones in the US, but it was very nice to have dry hands.
While we sat drinking tea (me) and eating breakfast (my companions), I noticed that dozens of young women and men in what seemed like uniforms were passing by on their bicycles. It turns out that they were high school students and they were in uniform. Now, imagine this, those of you who wear women’s clothes: the uniform is a traditional Vietnamese outfit consisting of loose fitting black cotton pants (easy enough to bike in) and the long tunic-like “au doi” that is tight-fitting silk or satin from neck to waist, with long, tight sleeves and high neck, buttoned to top, and then from the waist down, is a split long skirt-like part that goes down between ankles and knees. The side slits are from bottom to waist, so it’s easy enough to walk in one of these, but imagine BIKING in one. The students had hitched the back “flap” of their tunics up under to form a sort of “half flap” that stayed barely out of the rear bike wheel. The front piece they help up out of spokes and pedals with one hand, which was also used to steer. Once you have that picture in mind (tight, long, top; flaps lifted up out of the way), make it 85 degrees and blindingly sunny. Three or four months a year, make it 85-95 degrees and pouring rain. While you’re biking. And did I mention that these uniforms’ tunics were white? Keeping them clean must be an unbelievable chore.
2. Once I got to the airport and figured out where to check in for my flight, I saw that I was in line behind the Vietnamese men’s soccer team, in nifty red track pants and team polo shirts. And let me tell you, these guys are good looking – “hot” is probably the right word. Of course, like any young, athletic celebrities, they know that they are hot – that attitude is apparently some global testosterone code. But if you have to wait in line, well, you might as well enjoy the view.
The advantage, other than aesthetic, of following the team through check in, customs, and immigration is that I could have walked through with contraband, weapons, and the dreaded “liquids and gels” and no one would have noticed me at all. Women giggled and pointed at them. Middle-age men sucked in their tummies and gave the “Hey, man, it’s cool” nod. Kids approached them for pictures and autographs. The immigration officers even broke their usual “Red Army” scowls. I basked in the afterglow, where no one cared that my bag was a few kilos over the weight limit.
posted by Kris at 12:42 AM
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