Once while professing my love (again) for Vietnam I was asked whether I had visited here first.

First that was, as compared to other South East Asian countries – specifically the usual suspects of Cambodia, Laos and Thailand.

On admitting that, yes, Vietnam had been my first stop (on a backpacking tour in 2002 – see pic) I got a “well, there you go”. The one you love first, apparently, is the one you love longest. First loves, it seems, never ever die.

They may well be right.

Of the above, the only country that I still haven’t visited is Laos. There’s a rational reason for that and and an irrational one too. The first one is that there’s no beach. So, in the past with limited holidays and an escape-the-madness desire, Thai islands were a no-brainer.

The second is – well everyone apparently likes it so much. The people are happy to see you. Everyone smiles. Vietnam – oh it’s okay…but we lovvvved Laos.

Which, of course, is irritating beyond belief and just makes me think…well you can keep yer Laos.  I like Vietnam.

And if I did go – and I did like it? More than Vietnam?

Then what? It’d feel like cheating.

But what of those professional expats? Those on two year posts with homemaking spouses ready to co-ordinate the shipped possessions and hunt out a ready local supply of Marmite, organic vegetables and a palatable red?

What do they make of Vietnamese chaos compared to say, the organisation of Singapore or the big modern cities of Japan? Does culture count for anything, or is it all about standard of living?

What would I make of Vietnam if I’d been sent here and installed in Ciputra? Would I only judge Hanoi on the contents of its supermarkets?

After Vietnam I lived briefly in Nicaragua and later in Cameroon.  But what if they were reversed? Would the older, more tired, more cynical me still appreciate the hard work that Hanoi sometimes can be? Could I ever have fallen in love with Cameroon?

And for those that don’t like Hanoi – is it a case of “it’s not you, it’s me”?

What’s more was Hanoi really more appreciated by those long term expats when “it was all bicycles”, despite there being no chance of  smoked pastrami or soft French cheeses?

Ultimately can you love, for want of a better word, the soul of a country – regardless of how it changes?

And so what is the recipe for a perfect country for expat living?

From Paul Theroux’s Ghost Train to Eastern Star

Most writing about travel takes the form of jumping to conclusions.  And so most travel books are superfluous. The thinnest, most transparent monologuing. Little better than a licence to bore.  Travel writing is the lowest form of literary self indulgence.  Dishonest complaining, creative mendacity, pointless heroics and chronic posturing – much of it distorted with Munchhausen syndrome.

Of course it is much harder to stay at home and be polite to people and face things – but where is the book in that? Better the boastful charade of pretending to be an adventurer. A lusty – “look at me” in exotic landscapes.

***

Little bits of uncompleted life – what the traveller habitually sees – inspires pathos and poetry as well as the maddening sense of being an outsider.  Jumping to conclusions and generalising.  Inventing and recreating places from vagrant glimpses.

The above passages came back to me as I read Lillie’s “Around the World” blog.

After 6 years teaching public school, I’m traveling around the world for a year (or more!) to write spicy stories.

There’s a reason newspapers are going to the wall.  We’re all journalists now.  The industry, if not entirely the profession, is de-skilled.  That’s generally something I choose to see as a positive thing.

But what Paul Theroux said of travel writing is now truer than ever.  You don’t turn up to your potential publishers and have them grill you on where you’ve been and what you’ve written.  You just set up a blog and start writing.

On entering Laos, Lillie reflects on Vietnam:

I am confused. What is this strange upward twist of the lips I am seeing here in Laos? I’ve just been in Vietnam for the past month and this expression is unfamiliar. Wait a minute… it’s coming back to me… this expression is known as a “SMILE”! Glory be, Laos is full of them!

Later she adds:

I nearly hugged the waiters when I realized that they could banter. I love bantering! Vietnam does not do banter.

Now, kudos to Laos, but let me assure that Vietnam does both smiles and banter.  The pic above is of the staff at Old Quarter hang out Le Pub as they were today – having a blast getting ready for their Halloween party.  Banter and smiles aplenty.

Today I had a typical lazy expat Saturday.  Swinging between coffee shops – banter and smiles at each.

But what I will admit is this.  The conclusion that Lillie has jumped to is not unique.  I have read and heard of it before.  I have struggled to entirely understand it because I don’t see it.  But I will try to make sense of it.

Just for a second put yourselves in the position of the Vietnamese dealing with backpackers.  And yes, I mean specifically backpackers.

I used to work in a charity restaurant where the profits went towards keeping street children off the streets.  We had a feedback form and would regularly get messages along the lines of – I am just a backpacker your prices are too expensive for me – there should be a special price for backpackers.

The attitude that somehow the backpacker is both victim and the suggested recipient of charity is not unusual.  Virtually every time I am in Hanoi’s old quarter I see a backpacker blue in the face and arguing with some local person about a price.  Check this also from Lillie.

Now, first of all.  The scamming is ridiculous, should be clamped down on and does Vietnam no favours.  However backpackers answer me this – how do you bargain without knowing the correct price.?

The truth is you don’t.  You can’t.  Instead you pay what you can afford.  Don’t complain that you were scammed because a) you didn’t know the real price b) you could afford the price suggested and c) you are not very good at bargaining.

The other point about bargaining is this.  Bargaining is not them suggesting a price and you calling them a thief and shouting at them.  You smile when you bargain.  You joke.  It’s a dance.  It’s flirting. Every transaction should end with both of you smiling.

Get a sense of perspective.  If you have an around the world ticket you are not poor.  And please..don’t say “but I am on a budget”.  If your cash is so short then perhaps your holiday is too long.

Please – don’t lose your temper and write off a whole country as you wave goodbye to a couple of dollars.  Just put it down to experience.

As for the people who “serve” you. Can you imagine a succession of backpackers demanding accommodation for under $10 a night but then wanting the earth.  Lillie writes:

Sean and I literally investigated 25 hotels over the course of an hour, up and down the sun-glorious, palm-lined main strip of Mui Ne. It was worth it! So what happened? Well, first, everything Lonely Planet suggested was rickety trash. Then, many of the nicer places were a non-negotiable $20 or higher a night: well above of our price cap of $10. Meanwhile, motorbike touts tailed us like wedding car cans, calling, “Come to good hotel! Just six kilometers away!” We declined.

That’s 25 hotels.  Can you imagine having that much time?  Having that much belief that everywhere was “rickety trash”? Can you imagine what it must be like for the hotel owners to have people turn up and screw their nose up and move on?  Do you want them to put their palms together, smile and bow?

(I increasingly think that is exactly what people want in Asia.  Sorry but less than $10 on a room doesn’t quite compensate people enough to bow and scrape in the face of open hostility)

So with locals earning a dollar a day faced with backpackers who’ll drink ten dollars a day and still have faces like thunder – well, you can start to understand their point of view.  As every local is branded a thief and a scammer it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And take a look at your fellow backpackers.  I see hundreds walking around Hanoi as if they are at the beach.  Quite often literally filthy.  Can you imagine what it is like having to deal with the unwashed, breezing through your establishments – arguing that they shouldn’t have to pay much because they are “only backpackers” before turning their nose up and trying out the next establishment.

Have some self-awareness.  Realise that if you are on such a tight budget then goodwill may not come as part of the package.  You’ll have to earn that the old-fashioned way – by treating people with decency and respect.  Lillie may not have noticed it but I find nothing works better here than humour and banter.

Additionally try humility.  It works well in Vietnam.  It works well in travel writing too.

In truth none of us really knows or understands anything here.  I’ve spent a total of three years in Vietnam and all I know is I know nothing.

Sometimes, admitting that, is all it takes.