HCMC Traffic

Being in Ho Chi Minh City for a day has led me to realise that the rules by which my life is led are very rigid indeed, and from now on I will be adapting some Vietnamese (or perhaps I should say Saigonese) concepts to my life back home.

New Rule #1 – Red traffic lights: A red light will henceforth mean something like “Marvel at our careless abandon as we burn electricity for no apparent purpose. If you see this light, admire its vivid crimson effect, but by all means continue to drive your vehicle forward, even if many hundreds of other vehicles are driving across your path. Have a nice day!”

New Rule #2 – Green traffic lights: A green light will mean “Look upon this glowing emerald illuminance and know that the electric system is still functioning”. It will have no significance in the mediation of traffic.

New Rule #3 – Amber traffic lights: Will be superfluous. These would just confuse people.

New Rule #4 – RRP: If you are selling something and have agreed on a price of, say, two dollars, this is now merely a suggestion. On delivery of the goods and/or services, the real price should most likely be at least double that, but you should at first feel free to multiply it twentyfold. If nothing else, this provides hilarious expressions of outrage from the customer. To help justify this exorbitant increase from the initial price discussed, make sure you explain that you are raising sixteen children, looking after two elderly parents who were in the war and that your wife had her legs blown off with a land mine.* Failing that complain about the heat and how hard it is to work on the streets† When paid, even if you receive ten times the agreed fee, look at the money as if the customer has spat in your hand and is perhaps the most despicable human you’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.

New Rule #5 – Time: ‘Half an hour’ actually means ‘Three hours’ unless there is shouting involved.

New Rule #6 – Logic: ‘No’ actually means ‘Yes’ and vice versa. As in:

“You want to go to the American Market?”

“No” (with head shake)

“American Market, yes?”

“No” (with head shake and hand motions)

“OK, American Market!!”

I don’t want to sound churlish here; most of the people in this town are lovely and seem scrupulously honest. I bought some incense from a woman at a Chinese temple, and she was fastidious about giving me exact change from only $15,000 dong (about one US dollar). And, quite honestly, I can’t blame all the impoverished cyclo and motorbike drivers from trying it on. But all things considered, I’d just prefer that they told you it was gonna cost you ten bucks to go to the War Museum, and that was that. Or at the very least, haggled up front and then stuck to the agreement. In time, they will be their own worst enemies; tourists will become suspicious of them, not trust anything they say, and give their business to the high-end company-run services. Friends say that it’s getting worse in Ho Chi Minh City. That’s a shame.

Tomorrow… further afield.

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*Lest this sound sarcastic even for me, I just want to say that I was most saddened to hear it the first time, slightly suspicious the second time, and after the fourth and fifth times, kinda over it. These people have crap lives I have no doubt, but duplicity, on any level, just breeds mistrust, and after you’ve been burned a few times you end up trusting absolutely no-one. That just makes me feel sad.

†A cyclo driver (who I paid very generously I later discovered, although he made me feel like dirt at the time) cycled me around all morning without even the merest hint of exertion, so much so, that I marvelled at how he could do it. Then, quite uncannily, when it came to payment time, he broke into a copius sweat. It was astonishing.

Saigon Fish

Saigon… shit; I’m still only in Saigon…

Hotel Majestic in the main part of town. It’s hot. The noise of tooting horns is perpetual. It’s an interesting phenomenon really; although there’s a lot of tooting going on, there’s very little aggression. The weaving flowing chaos reminds me of nothing so much as an industrious and purposeful trails of ants, with the constant horn beepings therefore like an audible pheromone system.

I like this city already. It took me about ten minutes to figure it out; there is absolutely and utterly no pretension.

Addendum: Although the unceasing opportunism does grate after a day or so…

Compass

Well, stalwart companions, this time tomorrow I will be in another country. Yes, The Cow and I are going on an adventure. I will be attempting to bring you news and even pictures from this foreign and exotic clime, but that will depend heavily on internet availability. It is, in theory, possible, though I expect it to be a little tricky.

If things go quiet, I apologize in advance, but rest assured, I will be accumulating Signs of the Times from another land for when I return in about two weeks.

Guesses to where I’ll be are now open (those who know just keep yer yaps shut).

Hint: I’m on a plane for about 11 hours.

[Waves goodbye, hoists little checkerd bundle and strides off down the road]

Lime Ring

Y’know, sometimes the modern world is just so bizarre that you really hope someone must be having a good ol’ chuckle at someone else’s expense.

Take the case of mobile phone manufacturer Mobiado, teaming up with perfume company Bissol to create Bissol No. 919 a ‘fragrance for the luxury mobile phone user‘.

WTF?

I don’t think I could have dreamed up that concept in my wildest moment of sarcastic surrealism.

Here, from the press release:

No. 919 is a clean, fresh, youthful scent with top notes of mandarin, juniper berry, elemi; middle notes of white musk, bamboo, oakmoss; and base notes of vanilla, cedarwood, sandalwood. (Mobiado Limited Edition) also has a special addition of Australian lime note, formulated for the elegant mobile phone user.

How is it that Australian Lime, whatever that might be*, bestows some extra power on elegant mobile phone users, whatever they might be?† What the hell is a ‘luxury mobile phone user’ anyway, for that matter?

There certainly is a very strong smell through all of this alright: something like a base-note of fish with a pungent lingering odour of bullshit…
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*Most likely, this is a species of Queensland lime called the ‘Gympie (pron: ‘gimpy’) Lime’ which possibly explains why Bissol has opted for the more general description ‘Australian’

†I guess from now on, at least, we’ll be able to spot them by their smell

Holy Toast

It’s a miracle!

So, I was making toast in The Metropolis and when I took out the perfectly toasted slice, what did I see but an image of the Virgin praying! OMG!!!*

Oh, very well, yes, I admit, first of all I had stamped it with the Holy Toast Bread Stamp from ‘Fred’ so I wasn’t as surprised as all that.

But it does look good in the toast rack.

Now, what to spread on a piece of Virgin toast? Vegemite? Marmalade? Decisions, decisions.

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*Sister Veronica is helping me out with a few tips on making The Cow “really hot and ready to pa-a-a-r-t-y!!!

Thanks go to Our Man in New York, Sarah, for the wonderful Holy Toast Stamp.

It has come to my attention that my readership numbers might be handicapped owing to the fact that I am not a cute twenty-year-old chicky-babe with a MySpace profile and nothing to say.

Now this may appear to be something of an obstacle for a forty-eight-year-old bloke who likes to shoot the breeze about the big topics like religion, science, net politics and accurate spelling, but as the Reverend of The Church of the Tetherd Cow I am ever-mindful that The Cow moves in mysterious ways.

Indeed, even as I was despairing that I may never see the likes of three or four hundred MySpace friends filling my life with inane platitudes and incomprehensible teenspeak, there was a knocking at the cloister door, and a destitute creature with no worldly possessions other than the clothes on her back stumbled in from the driving rain. As I towelled the poor wretch dry in front of the abbey fireplace, I knew that the solution to my increasingly barren Comment pages had been sent to me via a Divine Miracle.

Sister Veronica

So, faithful Acowlytes, let me introduce to you Sister Veronica* who will be popping by from time to time in order to help me make an unashamed grab for increased visitor numbers.

You can even write to her, for advice on personal matters or astrology, a field in which she tells me she is an expert.

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*Sister Veronica’s likeness appears courtesy of Scumbag Russian Spammersâ„¢ and Photoshop

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