A year ago I foolishly told everyone I was going to write a book, based on my travel blog at the time. I wish I hadn't. Because, although I believe that one day I will, I am in no way ready yet for such a commitment. I'm under no illusion about the hard work involved in such a task.
So, six months has passed without a word and I'm left with egg on my face it seems from such an overzealous, premature claim. Actually, there are pages of scrawled imaginings in my falling-apart diary, which I'll get around to translating one day, but it's only now, five weeks before I leave Vietnam, that I'm finally getting on the keys again and attempting to transcribe the madness that is Saigon, seen through the eyes of an ex-pat.
I always hated that word, 'ex-pat'. Like the word 'blog', it just really annoys me. I've got a thing about certain words - how they sound in the mouth, how they look on the page, and neither of those two really cut it for me. But I'm gonna use them, for lack of better alternatives.
Ex-pats. We're everywhere in this town. In fact, in certain areas, it's quite possible to forget you are in Asia, if that was what you wanted. Certain areas with the same faceless malls I ran away from in the West and the generic chain stores appeal to that familiarity I guess - and 'Vietnam', as a collective force if not an entirely representative one, seems to be gagging for this McDonaldisation of things. When I talk to people who've been here for years, they tell me just how quickly money changed things fifteen or so years ago. And why not, I suppose? These people have been through a lot, so why shouldn't they try on the so-called benefits of a Western society - of capitalism in a Communist country? It's an interesting mix, and one which deserves a much better explanation than I'm capable of this afternoon... However, most of the time I'm more happy buying noodles from my local vendor or getting a coconut to go. Life is better when it's simple - it's just as simple as that.
It's all about the mix for me though. As I write from my high horse about supporting the local businesses and avoiding materialism as much as possible, I look around myself and realise I'm sitting in a wonderfully airconditioned Italian cafe with red leather seats, sipping watermelon juice and eating bruschetta while I watch the motorbikes zoom by outside. Ha ha! Fooled you, Sharon! I'm no purist - it's good to plush it up sometimes - and to lush it up (OH, I'll get to that one...). But the things I'm going to miss most about Saigon are the inexpensive things I can't find anywhere else: tra da (iced tea), beer with ice, the aforementioned coconuts and 50 cent noodles. Being on the back of a motorbike at night and feeling the fumes hollow me out, make me metallic somehow. Plastic chairs on the side of the road. The kids wreaking havoc in the alley I live in. The ability to communicate without more than a few sentences of Vietnamese. I'm going to miss just how EASY it is here. It's been too easy actually, which is part of the reason it took me so long to get back online again. Simply living, and not working towards anything, took over for a while. But today, I've got things to say.
I really believe that Saigon has changed me more than any other place I've been - even India. A friend said to me a few months back that he no longer knew who he was - his old identity didn't fit him anymore. I certainly feel like this - I have done things here I wouldn't dream of doing at home. I danced to Rihanna in a bar last night and bloody loved it. I've tried to eat meat and totally neglected my yoga. I've made bad decisions, ones not befitting a woman of my age and supposed maturity. I've acted ten years younger than I am at least, haven't read any books or kept up with world news, have basically been wrapped up in my little world of work, parties and the occasional acoustic gig. And it wasn't until about a month ago that I realised that 'I', the Sharon I always knew, was... well, LOST. Wandering around somewhere in the tiny alleyways and avoiding the monsoon puddles, but not where I expected her to be. And I don't think this is a bad thing - identity ain't fixed anyway -nothing is! Because, if you'll allow me to go all cosmic on ya for a wee moment, WE AREN'T WHAT WE THINK WE ARE ANYWAY! We aren't these 'teachers' or 'lawyers' or 'professionals' or 'artists' - we're just people. People who shouldn't let themselves be limited by ideas or labels of what we or others think we should be.
Ahhh, this is a big subject for me - identity. Now's not the time or the place however... I just came here to talk about Saigon for god's sake. Consider this a beginning again - I'm back online, trying on my writer's hat to see how out of shape it is. And like the xe om (motorcycle taxi) helmets they give you to wear, it's strap is loose and it'll fall off my head if I drive too fast to begin with. So, I'm gonna leave this trail of rambling thoughts behind today. It's time to leave this cool aired cafe, walk outside and let the hot wall of smoggy air enfold me again. But I'll be back - there are so many stories to tell...
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