Bittersweet

A little over a week ago noodlegirl had her five day old Ericsson T630 cameraphone stolen from a function at the crappy Rex Hotel. The phone had three photos of the toad taken the very day he started walking. We hadn't had time to copy these to a computer before the phone was swifted.

We contacted the phone company and then phoned the number of the nicked phone. And so began a series of bizarre 'silent' phone calls to and from the thief. Two Vietnamese friends said this is normal practice in a theft like this and that the robber was trying to extract a bit of cash in exchange for the safe return of the phone. One of the friends repeatedly phoned to say we just wanted the phone back, were willing to pay a ransom fee, dearly wanted the pics of the toad, blah blah, blah... but nothing, just silence.

So we sent text messages to the mystery caller. Still nothing. Finally, we gave up waiting, bought a new phone and bitched about the unknown thief, the loss of the photos and the phone and generally had a 'bad Vietnam' few days.

The other night noodlegirl was away on a business trip, I went out with the toad for a stroll and a scoff in District 1. We returned home, I read him his fave book (Thanks Michelle;), put him to bed, grabbed myself a wee dram, stuck Force 10 from Navarone in the DVD player and settled down for an evening of high octane entertainment. I marvelled at how a small band of wily British soldiers somehow managed to outfox the formidable Nazi death machine with little more than penknife and the contents of a small suitcase. I gasped as the crack unit initiated an ingenious series of spectacular explosions and reaped untold havoc upon a startled enemy in deepest former Yugoslavia. As three of the finest minutes in Edward Fox's glittering film career approached, the door bell rang.

The taxi driver who had driven us home some hours earlier had discovered the toad's drink bottle, still half filled with diluted pomelo juice, in the back seat of his cab. I'd left it there and hadn't even noticed it was missing. The bottle is worth bugger all, but the fact that this guy, who has never met me before, bothered to swing by my gaff and drop the bottle off while he should really be out looking for customers helped heaps to forget the T630 episode. He works for the Gia Dinh Taxi company. I recommend you use them for your taxi needs in Saigon. They can't magic up missing mobile phones, but they clearly employ nice people. Tel: 08 989 898

Comments

[Giao]

Hi there. I stumbled across your fab blog whilst searching for links to Viet foods I was writing about on my own blog (which holds no candle to yours). Just wanted to let you know your blog is a delight and so sorry to hear of the thieved cameraphone. Total bummer.

[jalberto]

Nice blog, see you at internet.
Regards from Spain.
;-)

[saffron]

At least there are some good people left in this world.

[Lei/cottontimer]

Sorry to hear about the phone and your pics of Toad. If it's any consolation, he'll soon be accomplishing loads of other amazing feats and leave you wondering how you could have been so blown over by the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. ;)

As for the taxi driver, he's a rare one. Not a week goes by in Saigon without a taxi driver trying to charge me twice the proper rate. I usually throw 20,000 VND at them and get out in a huff.

[ecr]

This post struck a chord. Can't imagine there's a single one of us living in VN who doesn't have similar stories. For me the worst is when I believe I've made an acquaintance with someone who doesn't see me as "the foreigner a.k.a. walking dollar sign" ... and then I turn out to be wrong.

We used to say when we lived in China --- it's the kind of place where your best day and your worse day can be the same day. Vietnam's much the same, eh?

[ecr]

uh, make that "worst"

[pieman]

I'd have to disgree with you on the taxi drivers Lei. Very, very, very rarely does anyone try to stiff me or suddenly realise they don't have any change. However, I've been using a taxi card for months now, use only one company and don't pay cash anymore so I don't encounter any 'issues'.

However, never getting offered change is absolutely the norm in Hanoi and would often really annoy me. I would say Saigon is not at all the same and suggest you use a different company as your experience is not at all mine and I use cabs every single day and so does noodlegirl.

The only expat folk who perhaps don't see Vietnam in the light you describe ecr, are either the stupendously naive or those who live in one of the numerous, salient and exceptionally vacuous expat bubbles.

And don't get me started on 'friendships' here. I've met so many expats in Hanoi and Saigon who've told me of their incredible love of living in Vietnam and I always ask them the same question, "Do you have any Vietnamese friends?" The answer is unfailingly "No"

What they really mean is, they like the relatively easy lifestyle in Vietnam. They just confuse that with the country and the people. Maybe I'm the one who's a bit odd, but how can you really love living in a country if the only interaction you have with its people is at work/in bars/restos/shops/taxis and the most social you ever get is a wedding invitation or some such? That's not friendship or love. Well, not as I know it. Like I say, maybe I'm the odd one out.

Maybe I've seen too much, or am too cynical, but in 8 years I've yet to see any evidence to change, what might appear to some, to be quite a damning viewpoint. Still, the food's not too shabby.

[Spring]

RE: Surprisingly thoughtful taxi-drivers

I also have a great taxi driver story. The story is thusly-
while being driven around from hyper expensive/expat friendly restaurant to my parents' hyper expensive/expat friendly home, the taxi driver we had hired for the night was playing the most amazing music. Into my (then 18 year old) homesick, culture shocked ears poured the rhapsodic melodies of Eighties Power Ballads. Leo Sayer, Whitesnake, and a host of other Big Haired Gods keening and ululating about L.O.V.E. Smitten by the music I asked the taxi driver what cassette he was playing and where could I get it? As it turns out - a relative from the states had made it and sent it to him - alas, It. Was. Not. For. Sale. Not that I asked, I'm just sayin'.

Anyhoo, I shrugged it off and went home. Lo and behold, the NEXT DAY, the very same taxi driver stopped by the house with a copy of that tape! A tape I have to this day - and I story I never hestitate telling.

It's not so much the act of kindness that surprises (because vietnamese people are very giving, I ought to know being HCMC born and all) - it was the kindness despite that fact that I was a spoiled (yet morose) teen of some ungodly rich family, throwing our VND around like so much paper money. Not to romanticize (too much), what did this man (whose monthly income was what we had spent on one meal) expect in return? Nothing. He was just being nice.