You say Tomato, I say Khoai Tay…….

September 20, 2005

When I worked in Nam my partner in crime was this little Dargon Ball Z Manga Ewok guy called Tri – we pretty much spent every working day in each others company and we didn’t end up killing each other by the time I left, so I’d say we’re pretty good friends – what we did in Vietnam with the business and everything was achieved 50/50 I’d say – I have a lot to thank him for.

So that it could become second nature, I tried to use Vietnamese that I picked up as often as possible. This didn’t help poor Tri who had to distinguish between when I was trying to be a clever foreigner making a mockery meal of his lingo and when I was actually talking English.

“Pass me the John Mayer CD”
“Which?”

“Mayer”
“three hour thirty minutes”
“No – Mayer is the name on the CD”

If you think about it objectively the English language sometimes makes no sense what so ever – for me it’s natural but how other members of the earth habiting jamboree manage to get by will never cease to confound me (many things confound me and this is one of them). I always remember Hanh asking about the rain:

Hanh: You see, if it is raining outside, I can say “look at the rain” – as “rain” refer to all – but if I talk about only one then it is “rain drop” – but I do not say it is “raindropping” – you see?

Me: Yes
So why?
Because that’s just the way it is
But WHY Stupid man?
I don’t know, ask Bruce Hornsby

That I am fluent in my own language but not proficient in understanding its structure is the problem - take the word “Last” for example – if you say “I came last” it means you finished at the end – if you say “I will visit the last week of June”, it refers to the future because of the use of the word “will” - if you say “don’t you remember? we went there last week” it means that of all the weeks that you could be referring to you mean the one that has just occurred because of the use of the word “went” rather than the last week of the month – still with me? OK? Now try explaining that to Tri who just thinks that “last” means “the end” which it does, but which end of what depends what comes with it I guess..... told you I’m not too good at explaining my own lingo.

Tri did his best to explain how Vietnamese worked in return – apparently it’s got seven different tones and it works same as a song – hit the right pitch and note and it all makes sense – these people must not have hangovers I suppose – so many times I’d say the same thing everyday and then the one day I’m feeling rough I get blank faces to the same sentence - if foreign folk mispronounce or mix up sentence structure with English I don’t stand there glum until they get it right - I at least make an effort to figure out what they are trying to say.

I could get by using the basics but as far as figuring out sentences went, I was lost – all our meetings pretty much needed Tri’s translation. With producers, asking “what day the shipment will be ready?” inspired five or ten minutes of nonsense, only for Tri to turn to me and say “Monday”, Why so much talk for such a simple answer I don’t know – either Tri was cutting out the unnecessary or he just didn’t know how to say the rest of it.

For business in Vietnam you had to learn very early on that if someone said “yes” it often meant “No” (they had answered too quickly but didn’t want to disappoint) - and more or less by the same rule, if they “can” do something it actually means only 50% - “maybe” means 80% (shows they are actually thinking about it) and only “sure” or “exactly” are 100%. Leading to many problems as I’m sure you can imagine – once you learn vital Vietnamese word for “100% exactly” you can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel called twaddle.

Out and about little things like replying to “how are you?” with “Not dead yet” inspire smiles and coming out with similar phrases helps you to assimilate and put folk at ease. Tri said that “Don’t tell girls they are good looking, tell them they look young” and this never failed to make any Vietnamese woman joyous in a “oh behave” kinda way - all of whom then enquire if I am thinking of getting married in Vietnam and try to set up a meeting with their daughter etc. which is one of the reasons Hanh always said “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you away from me” – Vietmam was indeed a land of opportunity.

For the likes of Duong (Mr.Fix it in the pic) and Hanh, English seemed to be the same to them as their native tongue – well in so far as they understand the meaning if not the feeling at times. Tri, or Tricket (in honour of his deviousness and his likeness to Wicket from Jedi), had a few problems, usually depending on how fast his brain wanted to work that day. However, he didn’t say “yes” all the time like Bach and always asked “what you say?” if he didn’t understand – he did come out with this a lot though. Sometimes it could be very frustrating and if was in one of my more sadistic moods I’d start talking very fast in a deep Scottish brogue or Scouse drunken Irish - that really freaked him out.

(Whilst we were driving)
“This is Rut Rut”
“No, this is a roundabout”
“No, my teacher say that this is rut rut”
“Is he an English teacher”
“Yes”
“He’s from England?”
“No”

“Ah! Well, who do you think is right then?”
“maybe you”
“Believe me I’m right – it is called a roundabout – not a rut rut”
“what is rut rut?”
“Tri, I don’t think there is such thing as a rut rut, – you can say that you are “stuck in a rut” – as in a hole that you cannot get out of – a bit like this conversation”
“What is this - here (pointing) – the name?”
“This is called a cross roads”
“but....”
“before you ask – no, this does not mean that the road is angry.....”

Generally he was a mini legend – considering the amount of things just the two of us had to take care of, it was remarkable that nothing went severely pear shaped. He was very good at bargaining and he picked up the tea tasting side of things too.

We had an affinity in that when I was younger, I found ways to make extra cash outside of work – notably telling him the story of selling stolen toilet seats, grandfather clocks and golf clubs at Christmas in 1999 – he also had tales of the same, except more constructive – I was trying to earn money to get ruined at Brunel Rooms and stop the bank taking away my Switch card – meanwhile Tri was buying 2nd hand school books by the kilo, setting up an illegal small store on the outskirts of his College and then selling them on individually, based on how much the buyer needed the individual book - Devious and he wouldn’t have got through college without it - makes him a good trader nowadays.

His father was forced/unpolitely coerced to fight on behalf of the south by recruiters working on behalf of the Americans/South Vietnamese - when Saigon fell, his father and many like him had their rights stripped and were sent to re-eductaion camps - once they had completed their time there they were then only allowed to take jobs of certain social standing - Tri’s father became a farmer and the family struggled to make ends meet. Even now in Saigon you can find old guys on peddling tourist cyclo’s who used to be doctors lawyers etc before the war (so Tri says - most of the cyclo drivers I met there were pains in the arse who tried to take me the long way to where ever and sell me mari-jo/hookers).

Tri’s father had a motorcycle accident a few years ago and was left brain damaged - Nam’s roads are a bit lethal and the hospitals are full of bike accidents (50 or 100cc bikes = main mode of trasnport - no licence of course). Even so there is no social security here but friends and family all pitch in - Tri and his sister send half their wages home every month and his mother continues to work here and there while looking after the old man. Family is very strong in Vietnam (as I found to my regret with the whole Hanh Debacle) and the childrens lives are often mapped out for them before the game begins. Bach was 23 and his mother was still making pack lunches for him.

DISCO-BACH-WHERE?
“Bach, is the Queen Bee a discotheque?”
“yes”
“yes, it is a discotheque?”

“No, sorry – you want me to take where?”
“Take where?..... What?”
“I don’t know - you say you want me to go take but not tell me what you want me to take?”
“Ahhhhh......I mean nightclub - Disco – as in place for dancing and drinking – discotheque – not “this go take”
“Ah! Yes”
“so is it?”
“is what?”
“never mind......”

later…

“So Bach, what kind of music do you like?”

“I like Scorpion and erm.......Metallica”
“really!?!”
“Yes very much – very loud”
“anyone else?”
“Yes, Boyzone I like”
“Rigggghhhht........ok...that’s......unusual”
“Yes”

Tri did have a taste for deviousness as I’ve explained - this translated to his driving as well - and like Tuyens cab, Tri’s Honda motorcycle was also a piece of shit - he had no mirrors, fuel gauge or speedometer – in fact he had no indicators, so I had to remember to tell the rest of Hanoi by waving my arms about before he ploughed into a truck or bus etc. He also had a tendency to drive the wrong way into oncoming traffic and liked to jump red lights “if he thought he could make it” – like the jedi speeder bikes - remember what I said about the meaning of “can” in Vietnam?

“Tri, I don’t think you’re gonna make that”
“I can, don’t worry”
“CHRIST ON A BIKE!!!!!”

Another problem is that the use of the Horn in Hanoi is a constant sound needed to alert other riders that you are in their vicinity – Taxi Tuyen explained that when the Government imposed regulations stating that everyone needed Helmets, chaos ensued as no-one could hear the horns and for two weeks accidents went up like 50% - then they said nobody had to bother and they all went back to wearing caps and beeping (Hanoi was a noisy place to live)

Tri – predictably had a horn that sounded like a frog being stamped on – nothing like a horn and also a little embarrassing – so he didn’t like to use it - this meant close calls were very common – so much so that in the end I didn’t even bother getting excited when a truck nearly squashed us for the tenth time in a week – I put my life in the hands of the gods of Karma and trusted that this Ewok speaking manga numpty knew what he was doing.

Tri was from HCMC (Saigon), not Hanoi and therefore initially had as much idea of where he was going as I did – anyone who knows me will appreciate that my sense of direction could be described as somewhat lacking – I now have met my long lost brother and our family name turns out to be “wherethefeckamI”.

One time that sticks in the mind was when we needed to go to a particular market near the centre of the city (15mins away) that sold bags for putting samples in – Mr.T (head of company we shared an office with, not the A-team chap) drew us a map and off we went – without the bloody map.

1 hour later – after stopping to discuss
“Why you leave map at office Tri?”
“Why you leave map”
“Because I’m not riding the motorbike and I wasn’t given the map - you were”

“I think I can remember”
“well I don’t think you can otherwise we’d of been there by now – we’re probably nearly in Hai phong – I’ve never seen this part of Hanoi before”
“I think we go this way”
“wait - don’t you have the other map from Time Out magazine”
“Yes”
“well bloody read it then!”
“it at home – I did not want lose it”
“CHRIST ON A BIKE!”
“what it mean?”
“Its a way of communicating an extenuated form of surprise – as in a lot of surprise - more than normal - if you saw Christ you’d be surprised, if you saw him riding a bike you’d be even more surprised”

“what you say?”
“never mind – ask for directions”

How we managed to turn a 15min there and back journey into an hour and half is best answered by pointing to the fact that Tri was asking me for advice on which turning to take whilst driving too fast down one way streets in the wrong direction. I did get to see more of Hanoi though – the residential areas – no tree lined streets and perfectly laid tarmac, no flash fashion shops and posh restaurants - just dusty, bumpy roads and badly maintained buildings - folk everywhere eating noodles and selling everything you could imagine in densely populated markets that no doubt disappeared as soon as authority came a calling.

After this mini adventure into the unknown, one which led us to return to the office from the other end of the city meaning we had nearly completed a half circle of Hanoi, I tended to take taxi’s rather than trust Tri with getting me anywhere I needed to go that I hadn’t already been.

But although directions were not his strong point - in life I wouldn’t of got to were I am now without his help - he is indeed my ewok brother from another mother.

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Spo | September 20, 2005