Frog Legs, Pigeon Heads and Fond Farewells

One for the road…

Today is Monday 4th week, and also the day that ushers in a new set of volunteers for two weeks while mourning the loss of the last pretty-fantastic set. I’m being a bit anti-social this evening and won’t be meeting the new volunteers until tomorrow, partly because I’m so tired from all the emotional/alcoholic farewells from the weekend.

I was feeling particularly sorry for myself on Sunday morning. Having caught an eye infection from one of the kiddies, my eyes have swollen up, are purple, weepy and I am blind. I am currently stumbling around Hanoi looking like a troll that lost a fight. In my pitifully blind state I smacked my head on the metal frame of our bunk beds leaving another purple mark on my forehead and decided this was due cause to sulk; my friends have left me, I bumped my head and I can’t see. Woe is Tamara. But now it is Monday, my eyes are better and my head has stopped reverberating. Hurrah.

Back on that bloody visa trail

I HAVE A PASSPORT!!! When I initially went to the Embassy (close to tears) and explained my predicament, I was told not to worry because the rest would be simple. Well, that was a lie! I finally received a phone call from the Embassy this Thursday informing me that my passport had arrived from Hong Kong (one of the guys on the Halong Bay boat joked that my passport was traveling further than I was) and jumped for joy and relief at the news! Passport in super-secure money belt I skipped on down to the Vietnamese Foreign Office and Immigration department where I was yelled at and eventually informed (after speaking to three different people) that it would quite simply be impossible to issue a tourist visa for the duration of my visit and that I would require a working visa. Not very simple, and further complicated by the language barrier.

My volunteer coordinator put me in touch with a travel agent who said that he could arrange the Vietnamese and Chinese visas for me. Desperately and fretfully praying he wasn’t another con artist, I handed over a tidy 2.5 million VND ($240) and my precious, precious passport, which travel agent magnifique promptly dropped in a muddy puddle. Yes, I yelled at him and I blame my frayed nerves. Fingers tightly crossed everything will be back to me Friday 10th September, the day before I leave Hanoi. Oh, the anxiety!

“Paris is nice this time of year…”

I came to Asia expecting to eat a lot of rice and noodles. I also came to Asia expecting to tire of eating rice and noodles. This week I well & truly hit carbohydrate fatigue and so have been dirty, sweaty volunteer by day and less dirty, still sweaty restaurant tourist by night.

Hanoi by night is a different and spectacular city. Wandering through the warm evening streets with the unconcerned bustle bustling by, is one of my favourite Hanoi experiences. Another of my favourite Hanoi experiences, and I kid you not, are banana fritters and coconut ice cream!

During rice-avoidance week I have been to some amazing restaurants (& some less so) and I’ve also eaten some “amazing” food. The other evening, feeling adventurous at Restaurant a la Legend Beer (haha oh yes) I ordered roast pigeon. Now the pigeon itself was delicious, tender and quite similar to duck. The problem was it looked like a pigeon that had been plucked and put into an oven. Now I appreciate that’s what actually happened here, but it had a head, which I thought was attached to the rest of the bird, but wasn’t, and to my horror, rolled across my plate as I sliced at the wing! The head was a garnish, and I and my dinner companion were silent with shock.

Equally horrifying recent food experiences include the boiled and salted cow’s tongue available on my lunchtime buffet table today, witnessing the weighing of a very small and cute dog at a food market and fried frogs feet. Frogs legs are delicious (and taste nothing like chicken) but again, I was put off a bit by their little toes curled around looking all frog-like and cute. Seeing the meat prepared road-side every morning has nudged me closer to Vietnam-vegetarianism, and this week hasn’t done much to bring me back.

You might be wondering about the Paris reference at the head of this section. Well, during rice-avoidance week I had a day or two where I was just frankly sick to death of Asia. I wanted to sit in a chair, not a 12” high stool, I wanted to use a knife and fork and drink tea and eat cake et cetera. There is a café on the bank of Lake Hoan Kiem called The Little Kitchen which fulfils Tamtrum’s criteria for escape and my lovely roommate, Jess and I frequent this establishment (rather too frequently) for cake and English tea. We have nicknamed it “Europe” so when it all gets a bit too much (passport day) or we decider we need a treat (most other days) we head for the banks of the Seine.

Another treat that we indulged in before we all went our separate ways was a lavish meal at a restaurant called KOTO. KOTO stands for “Know One, Teach One” and is a program which houses, educates, vocationally trains and employs disadvantaged youth in Hanoi and HCMC. Our waitress for the evening was also called “Tam” which she enjoyed greatly, and along with exceptional service (which surpass my waitressing skills) we enjoyed what I think might be the third best meal I have ever eaten. Highly recommended!

Confessions of a ridiculous backpacker

Confession #1. I am writing to you all from an air-conditioned hotel room with a gorgeous bathroom and crisp white sheets. Yes, the STV house got too much. I am well up for roughing it with the best of them, but I’ve had three weeks of no hot water (it’s not even tepid), a bathroom which I refuse to describe to you and a dirty, messy house. So, for two nights only, one to celebrate Jess’ last night in Hanoi (sniff sniff) and one to restore my sanity and because I cant face another ice-cold shower tomorrow, I am staying in a cheapo hotel, which isn’t fancy but is clean and has hot water and is currently the happiest place on earth! I will be back in STV tomorrow – and do enjoy the perspective you get actually living in a Vietnamese house and commuting with the rest of the city, but that’s for tomorrow and civilization is for tonight.

Confession #2. Vietnamese massages are amazing, and only $3.

Confession #3. I’m sure all backpackers design their own tailored handmade silk evening dresses… no? Well I have, and it’s so cheap I’m contemplating having a few suits tailored and shipped back to England in time for starting at White & Case in February. The dress I designed is round necked, low-backed, knee-length and made of emerald green silk! I am so excited and am going for a fitting tomorrow! My dad thinks that I am copying Clarkson and Co from their trip to Vietnam by hiring a motorbike and having suits tailored… when in Rome!

Confession #4. I have developed a taste for antique Vietnamese statuettes. The good news is that I bought two granite dragon/dog bookends for (only!) $10 and the lovely Spanish boys have even taken them home for me in their underweight luggage and are going to post them to my house from Spain!! Amazing! Thank you, boys!! More good news is that I’ve only bought little Vietnamese ornaments for my Mum and Grandma as gifts, so you won’t have to fake excitement over presents (hopefully), unless I get carried away with the shopping that is.


There’s little else to say, really. The motorbike lessons are temporarily on hold due to blindness but I am going to be back on it ASAP and hopefully road tripping to Nihn Binh (about 60 km southwest of Hanoi) on the weekend. This is weather dependent – the “dry season” in Hanoi has seen 3 monsoon thunderstorms in the last week. If truth be told I don’t mind the rain and enjoy the broken heat, but sadly I am that ridiculous tourist in flip-flops and shorts sloshing through road-rivers whilst all the Vietnamese huddle undercover. Remember I have two black eyes, a bruised forehead and can’t really see much. As if the white-white skin wasn’t attracting enough attention!