Vietnam (4): The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I have, throughout the course of my life, been both commended and also accused, of being an eternal optimist. When presented as a compliment, it has been followed by an appreciation of my tendency to remain ever-hopeful and find the joy and beauty in life. When uttered in cynicism, it has been coupled with nasty doubts as to my sincerely, or snide comments about my (perceived) ignorance. 

In truth, being an optimist is a conscious decision. It's not a natural state of mind, but rather a daily practice which becomes smoother and easier with time... a determination to - even in the face of pain and ugliness - maintain an "attitude of gratitude" (a phrase which I once heard long ago, and which has stayed with me always).

Life is not perfect. Life is not easy. There is pain and suffering in this world on a massive scale, everywhere you look. Injustice is rife, greed is abundant, disregard for other people's humanity is a prevalent feature of both personal and impersonal interactions. 

And yet here we are. Here I am. This life of mine hasn't ever gone according to any plan which I thought I'd made. I look around me and see things that make me sad all the time. But I choose not to dwell on them. For my own peace of mind. And perhaps THAT'S what my special gift is: a fierce determination to live a life of joy. To not allow disappointments to destroy me, to not let heartbreaks crush me, to actively seek out the good bits of life - people, moments, places, foods - and truly APPRECIATE them in all of their glory and goodness rather than drown in the mire of the hardships.

With this all in mind, I present to you: an attempt at a balanced and fair description of the past month of my life, in all of its multifaceted uniqueness. 

1. The Good

Shaun and I moved into our own place on the 1st of March. It's the first home we've properly shared, given that in South Africa his work on the big power plants kept him based far out of town during the week, and we'd only see each other on weekends when he'd come stay at my place, for the most part.

It's been a dream. 

We've absolutely LOVED playing house. We go grocery shopping together, plan our meals together, cook together, clean together. We've fallen into such a comfortable and beautiful rhythm, and it speaks to our relationship with each other how seamlessly this has all taken place. And it's FUN. It's been so loving, so healthy, so happy. We laugh so much together!

I started a keto diet at the beginning of the month, which - in effect - means no sugar, no processed carbs, no alcohol. Shaun hasn't quite managed to stick to it as strictly as I have, but as head chef in the household, he's kept all of our meals strictly on plan, and we've been having such fun shopping together at the fresh produce market and planning our daily meals - every single one of which is consumed with appreciation and active enjoyment. (I love good food. It brings me such joy. I find it to be such a profound pleasure in life.)

And our apartment. Ah, what a GIFT. 

Not only did we stumble upon an absolute little gem - fully furnished in such a tasteful and welcoming and warm manner - but the VIEWS! Our 6th floor balcony runs along the length of our entire apartment, which means that from every room in the house (except the bathrooms), you look out onto the big blue sea.

I cannot accurately explain just what that does to one's soul. I don't really think I need to, though. We all know.

Whether we're quietly sitting on the balcony and staring out at our 180 degree view of the blue - either together or alone, or simply glancing at it as we walk through the house, or catching a glimpse while we're doing something else, or waking up and opening the curtains and taking it in for the magic that it is... the sea has become an integral part of our relationship. A third party in the union, as it were. 

On our days off together, we like to go for long walks along the beach, which usually end with a swim in the warm waters. It's what we dreamed about before we moved here - a chance to live by the sea, to enjoy it every day, to let its flow guide the rhythm of our lives... But I don't think either one of us ever imagined the relationship would be quite so intimate and immediate. How lucky we are!

We've had some friends over for meals, joined in on a pub quiz team one night, and Shaun DJed another fantastically fun party at the Pineapple Bar, but for the most part, this past month has seen us really enjoying and settling into our new space. And it's been wonderful. 

I start work later than back home - on two days I start at 10 a.m, on the other three I only start at 2 p.m, and although it means I finish later, too, I've welcomed the change in routine. There's something quite magical about having the freedom to ease into one's day - waking up naturally, without an alarm clock, slowly going about the morning rituals, preparing for the day's work in one's own time... what a blessing. I'm really, REALLY appreciating that part of this chapter a great deal.

2. The Bad

A big feature of our lives here is the impermanence of it all. We don't know how long we'll be able to stay. We originally came on a 3 month visa, and then went through a difficult period of about 2 weeks where people all around us were unable to renew their visas, which made us start contemplating the possibility that we'd also have to leave by the end of March. Luckily, we managed to score another 3 months, and beyond that, we'll just have to see. Rules keep changing, possibilities keep changing, options keep changing. We're looking into various avenues, but have also made a pact with each other to enjoy every single day for the miracle that it is, and live in the present that has been gifted to us, rather than in an unknowable future.

Secondly, I'm also finding it decidedly difficult to cope without knowing the language. By all accounts, Vietnamese is a terribly complicated language to learn (more from a pronunciation perspective than from a grammatical one), and we hadn't looked into language lessons previously as we didn't know how long we'd be staying. But I think my project for the coming month will be to get that ball rolling. It frustrates me to be unable to communicate even the most basic things, and I feel I owe it to my host country to make an effort in that department. Besides, I'm looking forward to it! With all the languages I've picked up in my life, I'm excited to learn the basics of yet another one. Language is a beautiful thing: it's an insight into culture, and culture is fascinating. The sociologist in me still finds human beings utterly enchanting across all of our differences and similarities.

3. The Ugly

NOISE. 

Ohmygod THE NOISE.

The noise, the noise, the noise. 

It's completely invasive. It permeates our lives in every respect. The rare moments of 'peaceful' are prized and cherished.

Vietnam is, without a doubt, the loudest country I've EVER been to - and I've been to a fair few. If it's not the banging and clanging and sawing and industrial-level smashing of construction EVERYWHERE, it's the constant hooting and beeping of all the cars and motorbikes and trucks and taxis on the roads (and there are MANY, and they beep constantly as a kind of cautionary measure to let each other know they're there).

But the worst - the absolute WORST culprit in the noise pollution nightmare - is the damn karaoke. People are obsessed with singing into microphones here. (I'm being generous with the term "singing", by the way.) But not at any kind of reasonable volume, no. Music is played at MAXIMUM volume, and microphones are adjusted to be even louder than the music. 

And it's EVERYWHERE.

People rig up sing-alongs on the pavement in the street, blasting out of apartments in our building, blaring out of virtually every beach bar and restaurant along the strip directly across the road from our house (this last one is particularly obnoxious, and clearly an attempt to lure customers inside, the louder the better)... It's loud enough to drown out our TV in our own living room unless we shut all the doors and windows, which is not ideal in this hot climate... Sigh.

And it's NOT good, the singing. It's usually the culmination of day-long drunken revelry... over loud, thumping bass. Oh my. 

The only saving grace is that it doesn't ever seem to go past 10 pm. YET.

Coming home to no karaoke music blaring into our home through the sliding doors in the evening is a blessing. Waking up naturally rather than to the sounds of construction from 7 a.m to 7 p.m, 7 days a week, is a blessing. Being surrounded by peace and quiet in the sanctity of our own home for a few hours a day, is a blessing. And we relish every minute of it!

(To be fair, the reason it's particularly noisy where we live is because we live in an area mainly filled with holiday-makers. Most locals live closer to the centre of the town. We chose the outskirts - which are all of 10 minutes further away! - so that we could be near the sea. And we wouldn't change it for a thing.)

.....

So that's the summary, really. Good with bad. Day by day. 

We're LOVING our adventure, and gratefully making the most of our opportunities which we have while we have them. 

Looking forward to what the future holds - whatever and wherever that may be.

With love, always.

xxx

 Watching the sun go down at our favourite sunset spot

 Beach walks in front of our house

  Beach walks in front of our house

  Beach walks in front of our house

 Shaun DJing the St Paddy's Day party at Pineapple Beach Bar

 Sunrise from our balcony

 Pool day with my bae!

Sunset from the pool